Today was nearly a completely football-game-free post. In fact, I toyed with the idea of there being no post at all.
But this very Wednesday morning, with a spare twenty minutes, I powered up the PS3 and played one match of the game currently in the tray: PES2012. Hurrah!
That’s a picture of Regen Hagi at the top. He’s still only 18, but closing in on 80OVR and starting to develop some ‘whip’ in that left foot.
My current First XI and squad on the left here. It’s a bit threadbare, like this post.
20 players only, now. I had to get rid of Barnes and Sibon and Neeskens and others. Finance reasons.
While walking along the street the other day I had a fantastic idea for a football game in the spirit of New Star Soccer. Like NSS, it’d be browser/smartphone-level only. The idea I had hasn’t been done before, from what I can see. Time to dust down my Sinclair BASIC.
I’m still not greatly attracted to going back to any structured daily football gaming.
I can feel football gaming slipping further away from me day by day.
It could be that what happened to many footy gamers years ago, when PES2008 on next-gen landed with such a sickening thud—i.e., a ‘gradually sudden’ estrangement from football gaming—is happening to me now.
I no longer feel nauseous at the thought of playing a football game. Instead I just feel nothing at all. Neither attraction nor repulsion. I suppose it’s an improvement. Isn’t it?
Not playing has let me see how the other half live—how people who actually get to read books and watch films and play other games that they want to play (currently Civilization, in my case) must feel, i.e. fulfilled and happy that they’ve put their free time to good use.
Perhaps we all have an Expiry date for the things we like to do. A date that we’re ticking inexorably towards every day, like death.
I’ve previously used the example of ‘going out’ (i.e. pubbing and clubbing it).
For most of my late teens and twenties and early thirties, there I was, boozing and carousing with the best of them.
Then suddenly, BLAMMO. Door slammed. No more pubbing and clubbing. Suddenly just didn’t want to go. Had enough of it. Seen and done and felt everything I was ever going to see and do and feel, hundreds if not thousands of times over. Didn’t need it—whatever it was—any more.
Maybe I’ve hit a similar stage in football gaming.
After making 50,000 passes, after scoring 20,000 goals, or whatever it’s all been, maybe my time as a football gamer is simply up.