Thirsty Thursday and the Singapore Prison Whore

Thursdays at PGE park, regardless of the sport being played, are $2 beer nights.
Cheap beer + soccer = great night, bad morning. [that's two posts in a row now with math equations in the first paragraph. that's a trend that needs to stop. I apologize.]

I got to the pub a little early and without a group of friends to blend with, I was immediately roped into conversation with an older gentlemen at the bar (this week I seem to be flypaper to extremely talkative strangers) and it wasn't until the end of a two-beers-long tirade on George Bush that my friends showed up to the rescue, full of snark, of course ("*snort* Sorry to interrupt things with your boyfriend there," etc). As they had catching up to do we didn't get to the park until a few minutes before game time, and were caught in the aisle when the national anthems played.

A little background on the post title: Vancouver's keeper awhile back played with our current manager for a team in Singapore. During that gig he was arrested and convicted of match fixing and spent 100 days in a Singapore prison. Newspapers have him as practically innocent and a scapegoat, but our manager isn't so lenient (although, I think this is just mind games with the other team, not necessarily his actual opinion), saying he cost their former team in money and reputation. In any case, this made the perfect fodder for many chants throughout the evening, particularly in the second half when he was posted directly in front of the supporters. The most popular one went like this:

Singapore prison whore
How many goals will you let us score?

Genius.

The answer to that question, by the way, is two. Although Vancouver scored first, no one seemed to be that concerned as unlike the previous game we were playing extremely well, actually passing and dribbling as opposed to chasing down long balls. Not long later our captain put in the equalizer and sometime in the second half (things started to get fuzzy for me about then) the SPW let a ball slip past him, right in front of all of us (haaaaaaaha!). Nothing seemed threatening from then on, even in the ridiculous four minutes of stoppage time.

Afterwards, I was dragged to the post-match bar and was forced to drink many more pitchers than I intended, despite telling everyone that I had a paper to write. Band practice was the excuse they used to justify their sudden inability to consume the large quantities of beer they'd just purchased, so apparently their priorities and commitments outweigh my paper. Bah to them.

My head was grateful this morning for the complete lack of sunlight, the low temperatures, and the on and off rain showers. However, after worming my way into an additional twelve hours for my paper, it's one in the morning and I have to spend the day tromping around the mountain again for class, which starts too, too soon.