WORLD CUP I am in constant fear for my World Cup prospects, addendum

At Euro 2008, I attended the Holland vs. Russia match in Basel, Switzerland with three of my buddies.  My girlfriend was with us, too, though she didn't have tickets.  Instead, she sat in a bar by herself with hundreds of Dutch soccer fans, all men, all drunk, all certain she, too, was Dutch.  If you've never had the pleasure of being around them, Dutch soccer fans are an infestation dressed in orange.  Following the path of their team, they occupy every available resource until it's exhausted and then, like locusts, they disappear, gone by the next morning.  She was alone amongst this for about 4 hours.  I have a very tolerant girlfriend.  


We would have tried to scalp an extra so she could go but my pal Danny was offered €1000 for his ticket for his ticket only a few days earlier.  I've infected her with at least mild passion for the game, but €1000?  The offer not only killed any hope of her attending the match but it also made it feel like we were smuggling blood diamonds across Europe.  My bag grew heavy with the weight of them before we even got to Basel.  Obviously,  walking into that plague with our gemstones hanging loosely in our pockets was out of the question.  We put them in Dave's man-purse with our money and passports; certainly important articles in their own right but only with the addition of those tickets was "The Bag of Life" truly born.  It was as if we all turned over our beating hearts into a single vessel, invested them into a singular source of protection and care.  Certainly, a risky decision but one we felt we had to take.  Independently, we were vulnerable, susceptible to lapses in concentration, general carelessness and the guile of others.  Together, we were constantly focussed on the bag—that assembly of all things vital.  We each took turns standing sentry to it and whoever was its protectorate was guarded by the other four, only half jokingly doing their best In the Line oF Fire bit.  "At all costs, protect the bag.  Protect.  The Bag."   (Below is a photo of Dave being completely careless with The Bag of Life.  Hey jackass, that's my heart you have in there!)

For World Cup 2010, they're not distributing paper tickets.  Instead, they'll be available for successful ticket applicants at kiosks throughout South Africa starting this upcoming May. This means the buyer must be ALIVE and PRESENT to receive his or her tickets.  Since last April when it was revealed that I my application for tickets to the FINALS was successful, I have ostensibly become The Bag of Life.  I am the sole protectorate of this far fetched dream or ours, one we've invested so much in.  Our collective hope rests not in the safety of a beige man-satchel, but ME, my fragile body and my largely questionable decision making.  Danny has even suggested that I write out a will, "just in case."


As you can imagine, this isn't the salve I need for the paranoia I outlined in the previous post.  It's all the more reason to play prevent, to avoid the Tenderloin, long car rides and open water.  Perhaps this Bag of Life needs some hired protection.