For me, anyway.
The start of the Premier League football season begins today with my Manchester United Reds hosting Fulham, a team that sneaks into the top ten on occasion, but are in no danger for the top six spots.
Now, although I am very skeptical about the retention of manager Erik Ten Hag, I have to roll with him because they are my lads.
So I’m still not taking much more of the underperforming teams that have been the hallmark of his start at United.
A great manager can make a great team out of great players.
It’s not like he’s working with unskilled athletes here.
So I will write the rest of this blog after the match concludes, sometime around five o’clock EST.
Good news/Bad news.
I’ll start with the bad.
It doesn’t seem to matter what shuffling of the players or what tactical formations, this team still plays with the same impotent offense that scarred us last year in our worst-ever finish in the history of the Premier League.
Ten Hag doesn’t seem to know how to motivate his team. They played with the same lackluster effort they displayed since he took over.
So, the glory gained with the FA Cup last season, now it’s time to move on and put ourselves in place for the Big Dance—Champions League.
The good news?
Oh yeah, we got an 87th minute goal to win the match.
When I was an Executive Chef, I used to carry around a short list in my pocket for every position in my kitchen. When someone had been caught doing something antithetical to my successful operation, and before they were officially terminated, I would call out to the kitchen.
“Don’t lend (employee’s name) any money.”
The unspoken follow-up was, “because they won’t be around to pay you back”.
Dishonesty—OUT!
Non-adherence to OSHA rules—OUT!
Drinking/drugging on the clock—OUT!
Wasting food—OUT!
Incorrect recipes—OUT!
Incorrect plate presentation—OUT!
Disloyalty—OUT!
Before you think that I was Adolf Hitler in a toque, keep in mind we were plying our craft at a 50.00 per entrée French Restaurant and violations, simply put, cost us money and ate into our share of the pie. (by this stage of my career, I was a contract player and anything that might jeopardize my income stream was met with swiftly)
The only “good for the goose-good for the gander came into play because I continued doing drugs through the end of my chef career and the start of my restaurant management career.
My self-destructive appetites were born in the casinos and restaurants of Las Vegas, polished in France, fine-tuned in Mexico, and then brought to the boutique coastal eateries along the southern California coast.
The only self-destructive action I did (or didn’t) do was cheat on my wife.
I can handle just about anything, but I can’t even imagine looking her in the eye and telling her I had lied and broken the one promise I made to her and God.
Stay well.
