Tuesday, August 21, 2007

It's 3am.
Somewhere.
And someone who's sold his soul to the game
has just got out of bed.
Propelled by a new way of inflicting pain.
On himself.

We are not talking about a particular game here.
Like hockey. Or soccer. Or tennis.
We're talking sport.
And why, like a restless worm.
it gnaws into a man's soul.
Pushing him to run 0.025 seconds faster.
Or jump 0.5 centimeters higher.
Or shave all his body hair to
gain 0.01 seconds in the pool.

Is this a form of madness?
Hardly.
It's worse.
It's more like a disease.

Undeterminable.

Incurable.

And contagious.