Bucky writes – the 24th man, the gastronomic journey of a useless gambler

WRITING BY BAKY – Every Wednesday, our columnist Bakary Meite discusses hot topics… or not! In this new column, the former third line recalls those long weekends of alternating between hot baths, cold buffets and sleepy TV series. But without the game. “24th man”, or when traveling to a match you won’t be playing.

I am 24 years old today. We play outside.

This means that instead of being at home at game time, I’ll be on the bench cheering on my teammates with the enthusiasm of a one-legged man juggling against Mbappe (which is a total lie, I’d skip Ninja Warrior). substitutes. Cursing the coach who didn’t understand the importance to me of a race between two bare-chested boys, still braving the obstacles of unparalleled poverty, under the pouring and horizontal rain, under the awe of TF1 master Denis Brogniart.

So I arrived at the hotel, I am happy to be there. I know I’m on vacation unless my teammate/friend/rival has lightning dysentery. Therefore, I should use the opportunity and not pay attention to tomorrow’s game.

“Isn’t it too bad not to play? A worried teammate asks me.

“No, don’t worry! I’m already happy to be in the group. I lie with unusual humility. I’m already sorry for Denis Brogniart’s bowel movements.

At the salon, the receptionist is impressed by this array of sportswear, each more robust than the other. Some voluntarily bulge their biceps. To prolong the unconsciousness of the receptionist.

As soon as I enter my room, I immediately go to the bathroom. Yes! Bathroom! My environmental conscience allows me to take a bath, allowing me to sort my waste and humbly and humbly take back all that doesn’t. But be careful, only on the way to the hotel.

So I planned to heat it in warm, soapy water until it was warm and salty.

In the meantime, I have to join the others for lunch. At least we can say that I am not making the trip in vain. A cold buffet of assorted and varied starters will feel my passing. Other than that, there is absolutely nothing different about it. And even less diverse than Homer Simpson’s wardrobe. The buffet is not like that. A plate of raw vegetables and its vinaigrette. I think of the nutritionist behind the menu for a sports meal. I tell myself he must contact one of the big groups in the food industry. I see no other explanation.

I don’t mind helping myself between two rantings. Last I heard, my teammate/friend/rival’s colon has charm. I won’t play tomorrow. So the penne and chicken can take all their weight on my belly, I won’t blame them. I hope they are hydrophilic because the digestion will be under water…

I skip breakfast the next day. I go straight to a neural activation session prepared by a physical trainer. The only reason I’m attending this session, which will nervously prepare me for a match I won’t be playing, is because it’s before lunch.

After lunch, I ask my teammate/friend/rival how his gut is, as if aware of my concerns about his hypothetical bloody diarrhea. »

“Hey, why are you calling me a colon? you ah! “. The misunderstanding only made me laugh, I decided to take my leave and go home. The afternoon promises to be productive. The goal is to manage to fall asleep before the happy ending of the episode That day everything changed there is no need to demonstrate its soporativeness anymore. Then there will be a snack, where I will fill myself up according to my stay. Then a famous conversation in one of the hotel lounges. You will have to be born with a dis-ci-pli where the coach will press every syllable to get into the heads of the players we didn’t come here to lose and win!

Finally, the bus heads to the stadium for the match. I hope that Denis Brogniart will forgive me for my infidelity. I do this for the band…

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