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为了你，我不出去，护送任何女人，也没有任何一个女人会不会为你，我会做，你在我心中有多大的差别！ “精明的男人，说女人的嫉妒。
This question is different for me, an American. I’ve seen New York Yankees fans wander into bars just outside Fenway Park after a heated game. They’ll get dirty looks and maybe a little shit talked to them here and there. But they don’t need a police escort from the park. They aren’t held escort service guangzhou back in the stadium while the home fans filter out. Hell, home fans and away fans are not even separated in our stadia as they are in so many football grounds around the world. No, there are longstanding deep-rooted feelings in other parts of the football world, those epic animosities that, growing up Stateside, I can only appreciate from distance. I can’t completely wrap my mind around them. With huge historic overtones fueling the biggest rivalries (Arsenal v Tottenham… The Old Firm…) and with the sense of tribal loyalty that is embedded in world football culture, there’s something out of reach for me even living in Boston, a deeply passionate sports town in its own right with diehard fans, a long, angst-ridden sports history and police who come out in riot gear every time one of our big teams looks like they might win the title.
yzzsjc0928ypj I don’t really hate anybody in my immediate world (except, of course, my old landlord, Dick Dumont – yeah: he knows what he did). But it’s easy enough to drop the word hate into conversation. “Oh, I hate that” and “Don’t you just hate him/her?” We do it all the time, but do we truly hate the thing or person? Most of the time it is purely a conversational device. An overemphasis to make a point felt with the force of a sledgehammer rather than a mallet. Hatred – real hatred – is an awful thing to muster up. Especially against people. I should emphasize – in case my mother is reading this – it goes against my upbringing, moral code, inner life, and all that. It’s the thing that – if allowed to run wild – can eat up at somebody until they turn into a mass-murderer – or at the very least a cranky old bastard. I don’t want to be either.
But Sports Hatred - well – that’s different, isn’t it? I mean I HATE the New York Yankees. But as a concept. It’s in the escort service guangzhou vein of hating brussel sprouts or going to the dentist. I don’t know the players as people. I’d have to know them to be able to truly hate them. Similarly, I hated Cristiano Ronaldo as a concept – when he was in England (now I feel indifference creeping in) – and of course Manchester United. But I don’t hate the friends I have who follow United or who adore C Ronaldo (and do they even still adore him? the next time he flops over and earns a penalty against Sevilla or Barcelona or Atletico, will they defend him as if it was against Chelsea, Spurs, Blackburn, Liverpool? Off topic. Sorry.)
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This question is different for me, an American. I’ve seen New York Yankees fans wander into bars just outside Fenway Park after a heated game. They’ll get dirty looks and maybe a little shit talked to them here and there. But they don’t need a police escort from the park. They aren’t held escort service guangzhou back in the stadium while the home fans filter out. Hell, home fans and away fans are not even separated in our stadia as they are in so many football grounds around the world. No, there are longstanding deep-rooted feelings in other parts of the football world, those epic animosities that, growing up Stateside, I can only appreciate from distance. I can’t completely wrap my mind around them. With huge historic overtones fueling the biggest rivalries (Arsenal v Tottenham… The Old Firm…) and with the sense of tribal loyalty that is embedded in world football culture, there’s something out of reach for me even living in Boston, a deeply passionate sports town in its own right with diehard fans, a long, angst-ridden sports history and police who come out in riot gear every time one of our big teams looks like they might win the title.
yzzsjc0928ypj I don’t really hate anybody in my immediate world (except, of course, my old landlord, Dick Dumont – yeah: he knows what he did). But it’s easy enough to drop the word hate into conversation. “Oh, I hate that” and “Don’t you just hate him/her?” We do it all the time, but do we truly hate the thing or person? Most of the time it is purely a conversational device. An overemphasis to make a point felt with the force of a sledgehammer rather than a mallet. Hatred – real hatred – is an awful thing to muster up. Especially against people. I should emphasize – in case my mother is reading this – it goes against my upbringing, moral code, inner life, and all that. It’s the thing that – if allowed to run wild – can eat up at somebody until they turn into a mass-murderer – or at the very least a cranky old bastard. I don’t want to be either.
But Sports Hatred - well – that’s different, isn’t it? I mean I HATE the New York Yankees. But as a concept. It’s in the escort service guangzhou vein of hating brussel sprouts or going to the dentist. I don’t know the players as people. I’d have to know them to be able to truly hate them. Similarly, I hated Cristiano Ronaldo as a concept – when he was in England (now I feel indifference creeping in) – and of course Manchester United. But I don’t hate the friends I have who follow United or who adore C Ronaldo (and do they even still adore him? the next time he flops over and earns a penalty against Sevilla or Barcelona or Atletico, will they defend him as if it was against Chelsea, Spurs, Blackburn, Liverpool? Off topic. Sorry.)
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