Beyond the Ordinary

Here's a documentary about stuff.
First of all, in all likelihood, this will get you dizzy.
Second, try to focus on just one thing. Life is too short anyways.
Third and last, enjoy (although I assume you already are...).



Made by Jae Gyoung Oh, Manuela Lizarralde, Eugenia Camargo


Welcome to my life.

Some Serious $H!T

Yay, Asians.

We start seeing the overlying nature of these groups, such that one of their principles is that "with numbers there are no laws." Ah, what words to live by.

And yet, despite the ultra-violence I was expecting, there has yet to be a proper hooligan, and I couldn't have phrased it better than Buford did:
"People had been loud, grotesque, disgusting, rude, uncivilized, unpleasant to look at, and in some instances, explicitly repellent - but not violent."

Never mind, here comes the violence. When beer bottles rain from the sky and strike the English fans in the head, no one does anything, except the fans themselves. No innocent bystander wants to get involved and no policeman wants to get involved.

Due to the social nature of these groups, they have, in a way, been isolated from the rest of the world in such a way that problems have to be internally solved (which isn't too hard since there is power in numbers).

In the middle of all this, again, is the narrator, who still seems to be at some sort of limbo between being an innocent journalist (hah, oxymoron) and a fervid football fan. Yes, he's in the middle of all this, but as a reader, he still seems like that-one-guy-who-happened-to-be-there. This of course, was more accentuated by his inner chanting of "I will not $H!T myself, I will not $H!T myself," when things start to get violent. There are firecrackers, eggs, and wifi routers being thrown everywhere, stuff getting lit on fire, and possible bowel activities getting warmed up right under Buford.

And still, in the middle of all this, "nobody did a thing".

Then the police. Then a goal. Then another goal. Euphoria. Disappointment. Pride. Screaming. Shove. Counter-shove.

There's just so much action, and everything seems to accelerate as the adrenaline jumps out of the book and shoves itself up my eye sockets, threatening to keep my brain cells hostage.

Wow. Soccer is some serious $H!T.

Among Them

It's apparently quite easy to become one of them if you're a journalist.

Bill Buford is asked whether he was from the Express. He's not. He's asked if he's here to write about the football supporters. He is. He's told that they're not hooligans. He says he knows. At this point, they were probably very doubtful, questioning the reason this guy could even possibly be here.

Anyways, back to the first statement. One sentence was enough for the narrator to become one of them. When asked what he was doing here, he answered that he was here to "get very, very pissed."

Enough said.
Welcome to the club.

After being admitted into the gang, the narrator starts learning of the Manchester United fanbase hierarchy, among other things.

At this point, I seriously question myself: why go through all this trouble? Aren't journalists supposed to be leading a dull life, waiting in front of Chris Brown's house to ask him why he- you know, never mind.

Don't forget the Leprechaun costume.

Why is he doing this? He's obviously not a football fan. Not yet, at least. What's his point?

Yes, this is going to help him write an article (or a book in this case), but what is the purpose? There must be something.

He wants to show.

Show what?

"Them."

Where's the Mean Guy?

Have you ever had one of those days when you were expecting to have a great day, and suddenly a bunch of football hooligans come out of nowhere, proceeding to urinate out of a bus while chanting "Fudge the Pope"? Me neither.

Bill Buford had one of those days, and surprisingly enough, he wasn't being urinated on (nor was he the Pope). As our narrator gets slowly assimilated into being a "thug", he starts to learn their ways, consequently learning how to urinate out of the window with the most optimal aim. While this doesn't actually happen, being among "them" is teaching the narrator how things work in this new community he now finds himself in. 

Despite this, I think he hasn't met the most hardcore of said fans, because so far, I haven't seen anyone get beat up and frozen into a grape-flavored popsicle for supporting Chelsea. I can safely deduce this because we've only heard stories, through other people such as Roy, about people getting savagely assaulted for picking up a stick to defend himself.

Before ending this post, I got to think: when the author says "among the thugs", is he implying that he is among them, but not actually one of them?