Champions League: The Honeymoon is Over

Oh Champions League,

This is awkward. Our honeymoon period has been shorter than Britney and K-Fed’s marriage. Is it because I even know who Britney and K-Fed are? And technically, technically Champions League we’re still together. Until May! I’ve now had to update our status on Facebook to ‘It’s Complicated’. After such a long courtship (and the breakups), I thought surely you’d want us to stay together for more than the year.

Admittedly, I’ve let myself go a bit. Putting on a few extra pounds. Not fitting into the tight little black number that I used to. It’s not my fault that Dolce and Gabanna refuse to re-tailor it. And sure, I clearly made a muck of my wrongly coloured accessories. But somewhere deep down, I really thought that tie would draw your attention to what was on the pitch.

Look how happy we were together

But that’s all now. You really bailed on me long before that happened. In fact, I actually blame you for the current state of affairs. That’s right. This is your fault. I mean, I tried Champions League. Oh yes, I tried!! 

Munich was amazing. Best day of my life - and probably will be for some time to come. I thought I could keep the momentum going. People were in your ear that you were crazy to get together with me, that I was getting a bit rough around the edges - but you ignored them. But I thought I’d keep you happy and get a little nip and tuck. And what better way to keep the notion of temptation than to use The Garden of Eden (Hazard) as inspiration. And of course keep things really fresh with a brand new Brazilian. How could you resist?

But resist you did Champions League.

Our very first guests as a couple and you go and muck everything up. It all started so well with that beautiful goal from Oscar, quickly followed by one of the best things you’ll see this year. Don’t deny it. But then you had to have one chianti too many. Just because they brought it with them didn’t mean you had to partake. And if I’m being honest, I was quite jealous. And you very obviously favoured the Italians. I wasn’t looking forward to our trip for that very reason. 

The kind of sparkle that every engagement ring
should have.

And it was this that drove me to get complacent. It became a vicious cycle Champions League. The more I felt you pulling away, the poorer my performances were. My head was in Munich - when things were at their best, wondering where it all had went so wrong. I know I said I’d do anything - and did - for us to get together in May. And I wouldn’t change that for anything. But for you to embarrass me like this so soon after our romance cuts deep Champions League.

So now you’ve forced my hand. I showed you what I could do on Wednesday night. It’s some of the best you’ve had from me, and you know it. So good you got it twice - from Torres. Although, technically we’re a couple until May 25^th where you’ve decided to add insult to injury by finishing me off in my own hometown, I’m already moving on. That’s right Champions League, I’ve started an affair with your younger brother - The Europa League.

Sure, he’s not as glamorous and he’s ridiculously named. But he’s promised to take me to places I’ve never been before. He’s also without the ego that has clearly consumed you - with your arrogance. You may have used me Champions League, but you’re now officially a notch on MY belt. That’s right. Say what you want, embarrass me now all you want, but there’s no separating us. Everyone knows we’ve had you. And there’s nothing you can do that to take that away from me. While you’re flirting with someone who you’ll never enjoy the same way you did last year in London - we could be off in Amsterdam with your brother.

And not to rub it in, but I’ve now received nearly £1 million worth of jewelry to commemorate our relationship. I don’t think any of your other relationships have ever sparkled quite so brightly.

The next few months are going to be awkward, but I still wouldn’t have changed anything about last May for the world. You’re going to miss me.

Looking forward to your frantic calls for next year. I might take them - if you’re lucky.

jb xx