2024-02-18, 06:44 PM - Word count:
It is traditional to wear black to funerals. Black is for death.
It is normal to consider wearing black formal. Black is official.
Black is associated with crime, as crime is often associated with the night, and wearing black makes one harder to spot at night.
Schwarzwald often wears half black, half white. In a German kind of Zen, the jerseys balance light and darkness. Muunokhoi Sarantsatsral, their keeper, does not get to participate in that Zen, despite coming from Mongolia, a nation with rather more Buddhism than Germany. Muuno often gets to wear orange, or green. On good days, the ball stays in the offensive end, and Muunokhoi thinks of his players as jail inmates, violently drubbing the opposition, off in the distance. Muunokhoi gets to look like a six-foot-nine tennis ball in garish colours.
But not this day.
Schwarzwald was up against Tokyo, a city Muunokhoi had lived in for a time. SFV were wearing their zebra stripes, being Zen or convicts or referees from other sports. But on this day, Muunkhoi wore black. All black. Black for death of Tokyo's hopes of victory, black for the formality of playing 90 minutes when victory was assured, black for the crime the SFV jailbirds were showing Zen restraint from overdoing in the offensive end.
Black for Muunokhoi's mood when faced Shinji Kaido cleanly ruined Muunokhoi's clean sheet with a perfect boot to the top corner.
Oh well. Victory consoles. And there is already crime and death.
It is normal to consider wearing black formal. Black is official.
Black is associated with crime, as crime is often associated with the night, and wearing black makes one harder to spot at night.
Schwarzwald often wears half black, half white. In a German kind of Zen, the jerseys balance light and darkness. Muunokhoi Sarantsatsral, their keeper, does not get to participate in that Zen, despite coming from Mongolia, a nation with rather more Buddhism than Germany. Muuno often gets to wear orange, or green. On good days, the ball stays in the offensive end, and Muunokhoi thinks of his players as jail inmates, violently drubbing the opposition, off in the distance. Muunokhoi gets to look like a six-foot-nine tennis ball in garish colours.
But not this day.
Schwarzwald was up against Tokyo, a city Muunokhoi had lived in for a time. SFV were wearing their zebra stripes, being Zen or convicts or referees from other sports. But on this day, Muunkhoi wore black. All black. Black for death of Tokyo's hopes of victory, black for the formality of playing 90 minutes when victory was assured, black for the crime the SFV jailbirds were showing Zen restraint from overdoing in the offensive end.
Black for Muunokhoi's mood when faced Shinji Kaido cleanly ruined Muunokhoi's clean sheet with a perfect boot to the top corner.
Oh well. Victory consoles. And there is already crime and death.
