A Different Perspective On the CL Semi-finals

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Franzesca

First off, what a devastating outcome this CL story turned out to be. It's like watching a marvel movie where the superhero isn't really "super". Or an even more bizarre brand new iPhone 5, which you just took out of the see-through, plastic casing, turned out to be broken. Agh! I at least hoped Barca would score! I (and probably many other fans) were already depressed coming into the second leg match against Bayern. My thoughts: "Gawd the first leg was depressing". My prayers, "Please don't let it be a shutout. Don't let them be embarrassed!" The results: "LIFE JUST GOT REAL." Ughh, the score line almost got me as pale as Iniesta.

But HEY! It's all over. Blood supply came back to my face. So we can jump the bandwagon and start pointing fingers and saying who played over there, when they should've been playing over here. Or my favorite, "if only such and such were playing…" *ahem!* YES. You know who youz are. Then maybe, JUST MAYBE, our hole of depression can be lessened. But if you feel depressed, imagine how the actual players feel! Seriously, do you want to know? Then keep reading.

Do you ever wonder what goes on in the inner workings of a genius's mind? Probably not, unless you are THAT genius. But you do know the inner workings of a kid's mind because you were one. What if I told you they're one in the same? Does it make you a genius? Mind-blowing right?! For a moment close your eyes and imagine you're Lionel Messi. Actually…keep them open because you'll still need to read what I have to tell you to imagine when you close your eyes.

Imagine you're Lionel Messi playing in the Champions League.

You're so strong. So fast. And you know it because everyone in the whole-wide-world said it. Every move, every pass, every shot--perfect. So fast that you leave every defender on their backs before you took that perfect shot in that very wide open net. You're so good that when you play a match, you're literally just "playing" during that match. And did I mention how fast you were?

You got past the group stages.

As the League weeded out the weaker teams you face bigger challenges. Good right? Of course! You finally get to test out your true potential. But then you hit your first setback and realize it was impossible to get past the opposition's wall of defense. Later, those fans that love you so much, aren't so friendly after all.

It's ok, because there's always a second leg.

So the challenge presents itself at home. You can't lose. Your own people will devour you if you lose. So why not imagine yourself as someone else. Someone invincible who definitely can't get hurt. Like Ironman in his first mission. You actually like that simile so much you turn it into a metaphor. You are Ironman on his first mission. You score within the first 5 min because you were so fast. You can't be beaten because you've already won.

You got past 1/8 finals.

The armor works! So you fly it to a distant land far from yours where you walk in streets stanched with bread under a tower of lights. As you play the match you realize the armor isn't so tough. And that your not that fast. And maybe there's a chance you can't win.

But it's ok, there's always a second leg.

You come back home and train. You're going to win. For your team. For your ideology. It's destiny and destiny is bigger than anything PSG will ever be. So you throw away your silly imaginations of Ironman. It's just a distraction. "Playtime" is over. Focus on getting faster. Because that's what got you there in the first place. And that's whats going to get you through the next round. Even if it's due to away goals.

You got past the quarter finals.

Now you face giants. Not just any other giants, Bavarian giants. They are truly superhuman and you're just a man. A man an without an iron suit. This time you couldn't even "play". You couldn't show how fast you were because they didn't let you. You see the faces of your coach, your teammates, your fans…and you knew the match was horrendous.

But there's always a second leg.

This time the coach doesn't even start you. You see your home where you've made every impossible situation possible. Where glory and destinies co-exsist, as long as the net is as open as you first imagined it to be. But this time it's different. Somehow that very wide open net seems smaller. So small that its physically impossible to shove a ball in it. If only you were still a kid. Because everything seemed bigger as a kid. And you were so fast. And everything seemed possible. Unlike like this match.



But there's always tomorrow.






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