its well over seven years since i kicked the sauce and given that the first one to two years that it was an absolute nightmare not knowing when or where a craving of "just a tipple" would flash across my own internal cine screen just like the 70s intro to the main feature at the Saturday matinee of what was pearl and dean .
since my fantastic second chance in life lottery win the years pass by and the merseyside teams including tranmere dont get there act together our and each season there are glimpses of greatness in individual games ( and from a blue i do mean little teeny weeny glimpses) , but i do get my act together and i do get stronger and i know that my infrastructure is getting bigger and bigger so going on holiday to lovely Italy that i would not have any thoughts of going back into the piss bucket . there i was wandering around the lovely Tuscany town of siena where once yearly they race around on horses which goes back years, i glanced at the other tourist relaxing in the baking sun partnered with that cloudy coloured beer that's imported from Germany , you know the stuff ,its the liquor that has a effect like a thomas hearns right cross that goes right down the pipe ! this stuff will meter out its own justice on the recipient and make a a quite passive person think he could even knock out mr hearns or any other pugilistic legend or anyone if it comes to that matter. i wandered a bit further and there where more drinkers knocking back everything from vino to your Italian peroni then boom right out of no-where he was there ! the person or monster who puts us down at any given moment " mr negative " my thoughts went from thinking boy i could murder a drink to really feeling damned right sorry for myself !
i needed a buzz ,i needed to centre myself so i found a cafe and there i practiced my Italian limited language skills and quickly ordered a stiff espresso....... ah that's better now, where the hell did that thought come from i chuckled to my self , i didn't even think he had a passport .
two hours latter we where back in the pleasant town of poggibonsi where i threw my training gear on and got out for a run stroke bear crawl stroke burpee work-out that i performed on a pathway next to a busy carriageway and a Italian version of a uk burger van , the heat was un bearable 34 degrees but it had to be done , this was my pleasure ,this was my vice and this love was my sanctuary . as i performed my last fifty meter sprint i hit the deck to knock out eight burpees and i could see a shadow in the asphalt as i looked up the well muscular Italian gent who could of easily doubled for a sopranos extra the way he was dressed he muttered something then clapped his hands together then gave me the thumps up even though i could not grasp what had come from his lips i had that instinct feeling that he was a fellow man of my own , and all of a sudden in that Tuscan town baking in the sun shattered weary and near vomit stage i felt that everything was just super dooper dander in my world , everything was deffo A OK ,
i thought yeah i had my day month year ( 20 odd years ) of being out of my face but this feeling i had inside was a intense feeling of being strong being centered and being positive it was better than any afternoon in the Yankee bar better than any drug on the market and dare myself to say better than any afternoon or night at goodison park ( something i would never thought i would ever say ) yes like the crap phony band from across the Irish sea would tell us all i did find something what i was looking for, that was a strange trippy afternoon deep down in a Italian town thanks for reading
