My name is Rafeeq Cariem I am 24 years old, living in South Africa (Cape Town) and currently studying public relations. I’ve been worshipping PES for 13 years; I always had this burning desire to become more involved within the PES community in any way possible. I am extremely grateful to have been given this opportunity to write for this fantastic blog. PESGaming was the first PES fan site that I came across and it will always hold a special place in my heart.
Before I stumbled across any PES fan-site I had this impression that I was the only person in the world to love the game to such an extent that it led me to behave in a way that can only be described as obsessive-bordering-on-mentally-unstable. Example of said behaviour: I was playing the last game of the season, Master League mode (Master League default players); I needed a win to gain promotion to the Premier League. I was having one of those games that could be likened to an action movie where the main character never gets hit in a gun fight no matter how easy of a target he makes of himself. In this case the role of the protagonist was played by my opponent’s goal net; I felt as if my players were conspiring against me, mutiny, a coup d’etat trying to overthrow me such was the quality or lack thereof, of their finishing.
In the 90th minute, scores tied at 0-0, I was able to fortuitously carve out a 1 on 1 opportunity, I confess it was born from the element in the game that is a disease that vitiates the beauty of PES 2013: the laser-full bar-no-look-through-ball that players abuse online like a drug that they are addicted to, for what? For the brief high provided by winning a match. You, the readers, my fellow parishioners of PES and my jury, will probably find me guilty of bringing the game into disrepute. In my defence I was playing for promotion, playing for the only way out of the depths of the sewers that is Master League lower division football and not only for a single win.
Engulfed by feelings of desperation as well as frustration I pressed down, without any conviction or real hope, the through ball button which released the leader of my teams coup d’etat against me, the “striker” by the name of Rustwyth I was striding towards goal with renewed belief, heart beating as if I just drank 5 cans of Red-Bull which was imbued with the power-filled urine of Bruce Lee, Vinnie Jones and Chuck Norris. I could already picture my beloved low-life of a team ending their epoch in the lower division and slaying the likes of Chelsea and Manchester United next season, just as I was about to pull the trigger the moment that will forever haunt me occurred.
My sister’s kitten decided that now was the time to get his daily dose of pleasure from one of his servants and he subsequently attempted to plop himself onto my lap. I firmly believe that no striker in the world would be able to finish off a one on one opportunity while having his testicles crushed by a kitten. The keeper gratefully smothered the ball at my striker’s feet, the full time whistle sounded signalling the end of the match as well as letting me know I would have to spend another season in the sewers.
I blamed the kitten (a cat never lands anywhere else besides his intended destination) going into a truculent state filled with uncontrollable rage it made me want to kick him with such force that would make Adriano of PES 6 and 5 extremely proud.
My failure to acquire promotion to the Premier League caused me to go into a state of depression for at least a week which prompted my mother to send me to a shrink (only went for one session). “Obsessive-bordering-on-mentally-unstable” is a description that aptly applies to my thought processes and behavior brought about by Konami and the love-hate relationship we have with their product.
The articles I will be writing will not contain perfect grammar or elaborate use of words. They will not revolve around the nuances of the game like the legendary commentator by the name of Amateur (love reading your comments mate even if it takes me a few minutes to decipher the meaning of them). My articles will solely be for entertainment purposes. I will be writing about any strange and funny stories that occurred within the football fraternity in the past as well as any Master League stories I have come across.
Next time on “Cleared Off the Line” you’ll have the pleasure of meeting a German goalkeeper that was once declared dead during a match only to wake up alive and well in hospital, he also spent 101 days in a Singapore prison accused of match-fixing because he played too well (true story).
If you readers have any entertaining “PesRage” stories leave them in the comment section below! How did it happen?? What caused you to lose your sanity??