Better Best Forgotten

What is this country thinking?  I am, of course, referring to George Best – a man made famous for no reason.  Did he cure a disease?  No.  Raise awareness for something worthwhile?  No.  Change the world for the better?  No.  Kill someone?  We’ll come back to that one in a minute.

No, ladies and gentlemen – he is famous for playing football.  A little ball filled with air, kicked around on a field by a couple of blokes who then get homoerotic in the showers afterwards.  Let’s get this straight – I don’t like football, I DETEST it!  Please can someone explain why watching an hour and a half of angry Neanderthals run aimlessly around is considered entertainment, whilst their every action is commented on by more Neanderthals?  Not forgetting of course the Neanderthals who discuss in great detail before, halfway through and after a match, all the intricacies of said actions.  It’s a corrupt business of backhanders and deals that if ever taken to court would lock a lot of people away for a long period of time.  It also promotes aggression and rivalry with rival teams, and this leads us nicely to the hooligan, a product born out of the ‘beautiful game’.  What a wretched class of beings.  Unless a footballer is very good looking, then I’m not interested in the slightest.

George Best certainly didn’t catch my interest, so I fail to understand the obsession people have with him.  Unless you’ve had your fingers in your ears you’ll know he’s dead, but why all the commotion?  As soon as the media caught wind that he was ill, they were like vultures circling wounded prey, yet praising his accomplishments.  What accomplishments?  He kicked a ball!  Big whoop!  Who gives a doodle?  Counting the minutes till his death touched a nerve with me – I never liked the man, but this was just wrong.  And what an outpour of emotion when he finally did go – grown men crying, celebrities saying what a great man he was.  Was he the saviour reborn?  No, so shut up!

Let’s take a look shall we?  Firstly, he played football – no need for idolism here.  Best British player – what a clever play on words too.  We’ve already established the insignificance of football.  Let’s move on.  Next, he was a bloody alcoholic.  Again people – AN ALCOHOLIC!  Should you see someone without the limelight he undeservedly garnered, you too would be less blinded by the lights and look on in disgust.  Drunks are disgusting, violent and need to be rehabilitated – not worshipped.  He was also Irish, fuelling a long-running stereotype that all Irish men are alcoholics – not very nice at all.  He gambled and womanised.  Yes, this truly is a role model for our children.  Here you go little Jimmy, here’s a couple of quid – go bet on a few horses and rob women of their dignity by sleeping with them and leaving them for the next one.  He was also convicted twice for drink driving, 20 years apart.  Lord knows how many times he wasn’t caught, and what damage he could have (or did) do.

The thing that really grates on me though is that he had liver failure.  Really?  You don’t say!  Serves him right.  But what happens, he gets a transplant.  This poor excuse of a man is given a second chance of life.  Don’t get me wrong,  I would have respected him if he had learned the error of his ways, and lived his life after this a bit better.  But what does he do with his brand new liver and life?  Goes out and gets drunk, and acts like a vile human being.  Well, that was great use of an organ – give it to someone who will appreciate life with every breath they take, or shove it in the waste bin that is/was George Best.  Way to go there fellas whoever made that decision.

So here we are, three days on since his death, and he’s still idolised, still making headlines and still on the TV.  When will the people of this once great country open their eyes and realise what a waste he was.

Until next time – if you’re given a second chance, use it – don’t abuse it