I have always been a “dreamy eyed, star gazing, lost in my own thoughts” sort of a woman. Often laughable, largely misunderstood, many a times lovable, aligned with very few. When it rains, I stare at the small fountains formed when the big rain drops hit the muddy puddles. I can sit next to the river for hours reading a romantic novel. More than five minutes of banter bores me to death, although my true friends and family know me as a chatterbox. Long story short, I am a timid person, easily falling prey to extroverts, keeping to myself, over-sensitive, die hard romantic. Well, you got the point.
So why am I telling all this to you?
Last week was V’s 8th birthday. He is a die-hard sports fanatic. He lives and breathes cricket, football, rugby, American football, athletics etcetra. You name the sport, and he can rattle off history geography about the sport. Keeping this in mind, we thought of taking him to a trip to Manchester, visiting the famous Manchester United and Manchester City football clubs, their grounds, and not to miss Lancashire Cricket County Ground at Old Trafford. This trip was bound to make him ecstatic. A dream come true. Meanwhile, I was ready to get bored to death, hence carried a few books and my laptop, whilst researching some good places to shop, and location for Waterstones in Manchester.
On V’s constant insistence, I accompanied him to the Old Trafford Football stadium tour. The tour started with a short introduction to the club’s history whilst we sat in a hall full of historical evidence of the glorious achievements of the club. Astonishing was the fact that I started feeling a bit mesmerized. Suddenly I wanted to know more. Starting from the seeding of the club, to the devastating effects of world war on the stadium and team’s morale, Sir Alex Ferguesson’s magnificent era, Louise Van Haal’s infamous management to the recently appointed and infamous for his antics, Jose Mourinho. All of this gripped my attention. I started absorbing every word said by the tour manager.
But the extreme was still awaited. We headed towards the ground and as I climbed the staircase to pass the tunnel, to my utter disbelief, my heart started pounding. I felt like a small kid about to get a glimpse of her favourite toy. The lavish green ground emerged, bedazzling me to bits. The sight enthralled me. What an exhilarating experience it was. It spoke to me with a mix of dignity and chutzpah, “So, you thought you could stay away?”. With a sheepish smile, I clicked some pictures and I drank in the grandeur.
Stranger than fiction as this is, the fondness seems to grow. I bought a lovely ManU sweatshirt, and a coffee mug. Wonder this came from my son’s obsession for the 90 minute adrenaline rush, or my dad’s incessant passion for the game?
This post has been written for BAR-A-THON by Blog-A-Rhythm.
Day 1 Prompt – Stranger than Fiction