David Beckham - My Fake Diary

Monday, 7 January 2008

Man, I miss Vic. I miss her little laugh, that cheeky grin. I don't miss her voice, strangely. Life in LA is a lot differenter from what is was in Spain. In spain, right, they speak Spanish. All the time. Even when I am around, and they know I don't get what they are on about. But here...they speak Spanish, but they call it Mexican. Like the beans. That jump. But it's a whole language apparently, from Portugal or something.

The team has now come back from their winter break and I got to say they are really getting into the game. Yeah. Training hard. Turning up. Yeah. We are going to be like that John Candy film, where he coaches that team...but with no snow, no sticks and very little John Candy. The odds may be against us, but I like to see myself as the Equaliser. Whatever the odds, I even them up. at the moment we're 22,348 to 1.

There are two players here I have my eye on. Domingo Preraz, who handles the ball with the deft skill of a young Peter Beardsley. He has a fiery temper and a dedication to the beautiful game few could question. And Sanchez Roman, who I am watching very closely since my wallet vanished.

Yeah, got a film deal in the offing. It's been brewing for sometime. All about my life story. A real raggs to riches tale. Like cinderella but with footballs. And I don't eat no glass slipper! The script has been in progress for sometime now since I suggested it to a Hollywood mogul at a party who said he would get right on it. I should hear something any day now. Any day.

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