Thank you Sir Alex Ferguson.

ThankYouSirAlexPrior Warning : This is no way an unbiased article. Anybody reading this expecting it to be neutrally written can doubtlessly find the option to navigate elsewhere  in a variety of buttons like back, close, home or whatever (Honestly, i don’t care).  As I was saying, its written with crystal clear bias, devotion and much fanaticism towards the Manchester United football club, and Sir Alex Ferguson. There might be many statements  in this article that might be open to many conflicts of opinion. But nevertheless, its what I’ve believed, along with billion others.

This is not just a thank you note. Nor a remembrance. Neither is it an argument against anybody with another opinion.

I don’t remember the 1st Manchester United match I saw. All that I remember is the now familiar image of the fat pink faced man chewing gum and pacing on the sidelines. In time the way I’ve seen him has changed. As a budding fan and a kid, I knew him as manager, who I then thought meant he owned the club. Then later on I found out the owners were separate and that he is just the manager of the club, which I then thought meant he coached the team. Then with wisdom came the epiphany that he’s the man behind the curtains. Coaching the team, managing the players, finances, deciding who to buy and who to sell, developing the club as a whole.

Now a decade after I first saw that pink face, Now that I’ve seen that man retire at 71, after achieving everything humanly possible, I know better than that. Sir Alex is not just the manager. That anybody can be. But he’s more than that. Saying he’s the manager of MUFC is putting it so plainly that its a disgrace to his relation to the club.
The blood rushing to his face as he paces the sidelines, the same blood running through his veins as he chewed on the gum every moment with more energy, Its not blood, Its Manchester United. It runs in his veins, as much as he’s the beating heart of Manchester United Football Club.
(*Correction : Has been for 26 years :”(  )

Sir Alex Ferguson needs no introductions, Nor listings of his achievement. Its well documented and heralded. A legendary 13 top division titles. 2 European titles, and countless other trophies totaling to 38 in 26 years. None alive or dead has done it better, or in all probability will never do it better.

But the greatness of Sir Alex Ferguson can never be documented on paper. His Midas touch evident in every single player bought that has payed back his dues by becoming a Star, in every single deal signed with a sponsor making the club the most valuable during his time, until eclipsed finally after decades by a Big spending Real Madrid. Even then, they managed it only after years and years of poaching stars that SAF himself brought to Old Trafford as boys with a football flair, and himself carefully grew to be the finest in the world. And even then, after making cracks upon cracks on the squads that Sir Alex built, the blind fact that in last 10 years, United have had more success in Europe than Real Madrid only shows the genius that this man possesses. No challenger has stood long in front of Sir Alex, and not felt his knees give away. Arsene build his invincibles at Highbury, yet they withered away leaving the Govan born Scot’s Red Devils with no challenge. Then came Mourinho’s Chelsea. For all the legendary title wins of the two seasons, happiness for the Blues could not last long though. By 2006, Ferguson had crafted another title winning squad. And yet again he found the rest of England wanting.

The only adversary that Sir Alex has marginally been unsuccessful against is Guardiola. 9/11 holds a bitter memory for all United fans for a different reason. Guardiolas Barcelona, and his Tiki Taka. European disappointment twice, and against the same team. Not something Ferguson has been used to, nor us fans, seeing he has never gone trophy-less in consecutive seasons in the PL era. Yet domestically, his genius was miles away. With time, Guardiola also grew tired. He had to take a year off to recharge, with 2012 finding his Barcelona fall from grace.
Then came Mancini and the oil-flushed Manchester City. One season is all they’ve lasted against the Old man. All the noise that the neighbors managed and the critics claiming Manchester United is never gonna dominate Manchester again, have all been silenced. The Wily Scot has again found the rest of the world wanting, at 71 years of age. 13 titles in 26 years is not a feat any manager can achieve in any league in the modern era of football. And it was not without competition, he faced the best managers of all time head on, yet came on top. Limiting a historically strong side like liverpool to a 22 year title-less run, or ousting the best sides to ever play the premier league in Chelsea and Arsenal and winning back the title, is an inhuman achievement. Yet Sir Alex stood, tall, proud and the Red Devils crooning behind him. No man, player or manager can stand toe to toe with him. And I’d bet my life on that nobody will ever overturn his records in this age.

Sir Alex’s biggest achievements does not lie in titles, or records. His biggest would be why a man at  39 years of age still does not want to retire from the game. Or why another player who was retired and coaching the squad decided the boots still belong on his feet and came back from retirement to pull the club back up when it was in crisis. Or why the captain of one of the biggest rivals abandoned his club and came to Old Trafford. Its in the spirit. Its in the belief. Its in every fightback in the last 10 minutes of a game. Its in the reason why the same person who came back from retirement to aid the club, decided to hang up his boots the same week his manager and mentor decided to quit as well. Its in the heart of every red devil. Paul Scholes is one among the greatest midfielders of our age( The best for many players),  but SAF made him how he is, how the world has known him to be. The story of Paul Scholes or Ryan Giggs can never be told beyond the first chapter without the story of Sir Alex Ferguson. Countless many follow.

There would be no man whose good health has been prayed for by so many people in the world. Just so that he would go on to manage the club to even greater heights that only he’ll be able to tread. Immortality is something everyone would wish for, but not for another. Unless it was Sir Alexander Chapman Ferguson. Then he’d live eternally, and many times over, cuz we’d all give it to him. Not because he’s our favorite manager. Nor because hes the most successful manager of all time. But because destiny chose him to manage Manchester United in 1986 when he turned down both Arsenal and Tottenham to come to Old Trafford. The story of Manchester United and Sir Alex Ferguson is not just of success, management, or football. Its a legendary romance.

There’s a reason why Manchester United is at the very top of the world, in riches, fame, fandom and achievements.  Theres a reason the city of Manchester turned red with flags and scarves and jerseys sporting Champions on the 13th of May. That its the 20th Title, is not that reason. Nor is it the fact that it was won back from bitter rivals across the city. Nor is it because its his last title, with him still as director, more titles are sure to come by. The reason for it is simple. Its because, every one of them holding a red flag, every one of us in every corner of this world, want to say one simple thing, with tears of gratitude.
Thank you Sir Alex Ferguson.
Old Trafford might be the Theatre of Dreams, but only he could achieve the Impossible Dream.


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Another night and the clock is rapidly approaching 10:30. Nearly a year ago when I started this blog, I promised myself one entry per day, sometime between midnight and 11:59 p.m. The minutes on the clock are dwindling down to my self-imposed deadline, and I sit here with an empty brain. An empty brain is good when you’re trying to fall asleep, which is what I should be doing. An empty brain is a bad thing, however, when you’re 1.5 hours from your writing deadline and no inspiration has arrived all day. Some days, it’s simply a struggle to get through. On those days, when I should be writing, I want nothing more than sleep. Today is one of those days.

To ensure that I get some sleep tonight, I’m going to go back to my mindset 1.5 hours when I was in yoga class. At the end of this…

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The Roads we take !!


The title sounds like something really serious and philosophical, to say the least, to the extremely cockamamie that a very actively meandering imagination might conceive. Yes? Well, for a person with not much of knowledge and quite a limited vocabulary, that was one hell of an opening sentence, was it not? Well, expecting too much only gives you disappointments later on, but then again, if I cannot at least engage the reader enough from the opening sentence to make him expect something from a piece of writing, then why am I, in God’s name, sitting here in my pajamas at the middle of the night severely tired and tested from the past sleepless nights of football watching and partying?

Well i guessed right, you weren’t going to answer that question, yes? Well, you can’t expect the extremely bright, creative and infinitely more talented sane reader to answer any question that a writer, in his bedraggled and possibly drunk state of mind to be posing him, I guess. Well then, I would answer that myself. I am shaken, shaken not as in shaken due to fear, or as in shaken due to the intoxication that is the alcohol burning its way through my digestive walls, presumably the stomach and intestinal ones, fairly affecting the liver and positively the kidneys too, and of course, not in a good way. But I am shaken none the less, due to the cruel punishment that each and every mind of ours inflicts, not on others, not on our enemies or friends, but on ourselves.

To be getting to the point, I stress it again, this piece of writing is nothing psychological, or psychiatric, bless those who can tell the two apart, but moreover on the multiple facades that our mind puts up. Many of you, most of you, nah! All of you reading this will be wiser and much more aware than me pertaining the subject in question. Every single one of us would have, in one moment or the other, felt that urge to consider the other voice of the mind. The one that usually confuses us by suggesting stuff to our brain that run exactly in the opposite lines of what we might be thinking of acting at the moment. Every one of us would have had that urge to doubt ourselves, stop and think for a moment more. Yes, if you still didn’t get it, it IS the matter of indecision, and you ought to be having exactly that in the subject of whether I’m the one drunk, or you.

Indecision, that word itself has a horrific aura to it, doesn’t it? It’s exactly what it sounds like, In Decision. Yeah you don’t have to think about that two words and the relation with the actual word or what I’m suggesting here much, there’s no use at all. You’re stuck in it. The more you think, the more you get tangled. You’re stuck inside the Decision making process, whether you like it or not. And when you finally give up and decide to pick something after minutes and hours, or even maybe days or months or years of thinking over and consensus making and hypothesizing, you still end up picking the wrong one. Perhaps. See? there’s an uncertainty to even that too. Even if you think about it a second, or a year, the chance of picking the right choice is still 50%. Which is pretty bad, coming to think of it, if it was regarding a 10 year wait and confusion on a silly decision, right? Well you ain’t gonna answer that either, are you?, no worries, that is exactly why I’m here, It IS not just pretty bad, it’s mighty well down-to-the-shit-hole-bad.

The evil that is indecision, was not something I think God thought about, when he thought of making thoughts. Because, if he did think about it, maybe he would have gotten stuck in loop of the evil indecision that is the ultimate Satan of all sentient beings, and well, rocks and atoms and molecules and the bozons and gamma rays and whatever else. And then maybe he couldn’t have made us. So in a way Indecision is the Ultimate Curse of the world as we know it. Parents lose their children because of it, because they thought a little bit too much about calling their son’s back when they left their homes for silly reasons, husbands lose their wives because of doubting whether or not to give in to the other and admit that they missed them, businessman lose their money and come to think of it, it can cause damage to everything and anything you can think of. From the lowliest to the unbelievably significant, everyone’s everything’s life at every moment is affected by it. Nothing was made or done or found or learned or discovered or (any other verb in past tense) by the slightest grain of indecision in it.

There is only one way to fight that monster, and that’s trusting your instincts. And for those absolutely illiterate readers who, I have absolutely no idea how they’re reading this, do not know what instinct is other than relating to a fairly well known title of a ’92 crime thriller which had some quite memorable and/ ravishing scenes in it, it means this as of oxford dictionary
Instinct (noun) – a natural or intuitive way of acting or thinking :

which in turn brings in the equally tough, complex and confusing and not so well-known due to the apparent lack of movies in its name, word :

Intuition : the ability to understand something instinctively, without the need for conscious reasoning:

Exactly what the definition says, WITHOUT THE NEED FOR CONSCIOUS REASONING. Pardon me, the capitalized words do not mean any offense or rudeness, but are apparently for emphasizing. Reasoning within our own mind is like calling in all the different religious terrorists together and asking them which religion to wipe out first. You’ll have a hell of a noise, some brawling, quite a lot of ear pulling, biting and what-not ( I’m imagining here. World Powers, do not assume or even grow the slightest of suspicion that I’m gathering a band of all religious terrorists and having a round table conference with them to wipe any religious followers, I am and have always been a peace lover, unless food is involved, or football come to think of it). But you get my point nevertheless I assume, and if you did not, not to worry there pal, I’ll tell you; just so that I can shift the focus from terrorist suspicion which probably arose on me, and i repeat here I AM NOT ONE OF THEM !! ; do not ask advice to anybody, not even your own head if it involves any time more than a second of decision making.

And that is All. Don’t think, Just act. Think and it’s gone. You’re in the tangle. All that you think just adds up on the big loop that you’ve tied around your head, legs, arms and what not. You feel like doing something, Do iT! You feel like telling a person something, however stupid that maybe, Say iT! And that gets us back to the original question, Why this midnight ravings? and yet another time, I answer it for you, to lament the possible chance of loss of a certain special person in my modest little life due a stupid grain of indecision ! The ultimately wrong road that I chose that seemingly is a One-Way road, Let that not be yours, This is a Sign Post just before the intersection warning you not to take it. ‘Cause once you do, it’s pretty much impossible to turn back, unless miracles happen, and I’ll tell you, they wouldn’t be called miracles if they happened in thrice-a-day frequency. So last few words before the ultimately potent drug of the world drags me down to the recesses of snoring/dreaming,

Do iT,

Say iT,

now !!

Dun think ’bout it !!

Insights and Observations: Critical Meditations by D. L. McHale

It is 4 a.m. and once again I am planted before the keyboard attempting to craft words into clever sentences…and there you go, failure in the first keystrokes. The good news, based upon my dearth of hits on WordPress, is that no one will read this anyway.

I once envisioned myself a budding writer, but now I am thoroughly convinced that feeling was nothing more than insomnia in the early morning hours combined with a pot of cheap coffee flushing out last night’s indigestion (don’t worry, that’s as graphic as I am capable of writing!)

I know I could be a good writer, if it wasn’t for all that grammar and words and things. But who am I kidding? It’s all about the words…the fucking words! (Hey, I used “dearth” in my second sentence…doesn’t that count for anything?) Well, I don’t have words or ideas or pesky plots…

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Read Stuff With Me

“I’m struggling to stay in this world, because everything just touches me so deeply. I’m not doing this for attention. I’m doing this to be an inspiration and to show that I can be strong.” 
-Amanda Todd

Do you know Amanda Michelle Todd? Even I didn’t know her until a few days back when the news about her suicide appeared just about everywhere: newspapers, social networking sites or numerous web pages. For the people who have not yet heard of her case, let me brief you regarding her life and the cause of her death. Amanda, a 15 year old Canadian girl, was plainly a victim of cyber-bullying which had its roots in the social networking site, Facebook. It all began close to three years ago when she started video-chatting over the internet to meet new people. She befriended a man who convinced her to flash her breasts…

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those small moments

When the rain is falling outside your window, it’s the perfect time to curl up in your bed, drink some hot chocolate, and get all sentimental as you listen to that CD full of mellow songs, pretending that you are in one of those sad movies where the weather is sympathizing with you in your most recent heartbreak. Either that, or you’re just curling up in your bed and snoring the afternoon away (good for you). I know, I know, you were busy the entire week and you deserve the nap. I wasn’t judging you; don’t feel all guilty. You can sleep as much as you want, and I’ll pretend that I’m not secretly judging you for that. It’s all good, okay?

Rainy days though are more than just the hot chocolate, the cool air, and the opportunity to grab a decent nap. When it’s raining and you’re indoors, there…

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