The shattered knee

Yesterday, I ruined my knee again. I don't think it's too serious; it'll probably get better in a few days. The body always finds ways to heal itself, even when one doesn't want it to.

To distract myself from the pain and boredom of the night, I watched a documentary about the mafia of football leaders. I spent about four hours on that. Later, I watched the news, and they only mentioned the boycott of the World Cup. I didn't understand anything; they mixed social inclusion, human rights, political systems, corruption, and human decay with football. In other words, all these topics intertwined with twenty-two people running after a ball.

I felt bad because I've always been a rather basic fan. When I watch a game, I spend most of the time drinking and chatting about anything else. However, I like football because it gives me the impression that life is that simple, that the only important thing is to feel happy after scoring a great goal. Of course, you have to be careful not to let the defender come in hard and kick you.

Yesterday, I ruined my knee again. I don't think it's too serious. I think the poor defender was worse off.