Anyone for football?

Actually, you guys are bloody lucky to still find me here. Yesterday, I went to watch the semi-finals of the IFA shield between Bayern Munich reserve squad and Mohammedan Sporting. Good ol' JR, Bhoot, Wiz of Az, a friend of his and I were the few enthusiastic losers who went to watch the game. Every time Mohammedan got the ball in the Bayern half (which, thankfully, was only five or six times in the entire game) some wise guy or the other would start a bomb-bursting spree. Let me give you a piece of advice. If you ever visit the Salt Lake Stadium, keep an umbrella handy. Two of those bombs burst within feets of us and the very fact that we were able to survive the first half still amazes me to no end! Wish we had one to cover our heads! By the second half, we had put our tail between our legs and moved our butts halfway across the stadium to a relatively bomb-free area. With our faith in the Kolkata Police we voiced our Bayern chants (though there was the occassional lungie-clad individual who would come, stare at us as if to remember our faces, and then walk away quietly). The game wasn't that great. Actually, it was pretty lousy. By far the most interesting guy on the field (well what's in a couple of feet?) was the Mohameddan physio. Everytime a player got injured (or practised for the 2006 Oscars) this physio dude would run on to the field with a bottle of water and a plastic packet containing borolene. Obviously, the bottle of water never reached the injured (or faking) player, as it got nabbed by someone or the other in between. The physio dude would bend down (the stretcher was brought and placed strategically so that we couldn't see what was going on behind the screen) and then there would be some vigorous movement. The next thing you know - the player is up on his feet and flying around like superman. What went on behind the screen? Your guess is as good as mine.