Video Game Sandwich

*throws on two tribes by frankie goes to hollywood*

 

There’s a battle raging, sailors. It’s a war unlike any worldly conflict you’ve ever known. It blazes throughout my humble abode like some sort of virtual hellfire. It’s the timeless fight of British man versus American football. American visitors who happen to see this may be taken completely by surprise to learn that over here it’s practically non-existent. In fact, we treat the sport like small children do monsters, or the police do crime: if we don’t see it, then fella it ain’t there! And should a misguided individual utter its very being a grown man will cower in the corner, covering his eyes and humming. It’s a sad, unfortunate sight, I must admit.

 

That said, here I am. I will make the call now: the existence of American football is very real, dammit! I don’t care of the reprucusssions; be I pelted with stones and booed as I walk down my very own street, or peed on from a great height by angry young men in treetops. As far as myself and my XBOX 360 are concerned… we believe! But damn does my belief frustrate me. I just don’t get it! What is the trick to this Madden 08 malarkee? How does one unlock the secret to success? Is it based purely on my blatant lack of NFL knowledge? I can play things by ear on ROOKIE difficulty; in that comfort zone things are nice and snug. But as soon as I tear off that cotton wool kevlar boy am I drowning! Blitz, did we? Wide reciever, was he? Lost by 60 points to 3, do I? Suddenly I get an overwhelming sense of British, as this American jungle of playbooks and third downs eats me alive. “I don’t belong here,” I tell myself, and suddenly all too easily Tiger Woods 08 finds its way back into the disc tray. The rules: hit ball near hole… Yes, I’m safe now.

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