Season Highlights

A strange blog update today.  In honor of the last day of the 2010 V-League Season.  It's no co-incidence I decide to update today, it just feels appropriate considering most of the last 6 or 7 months has revolved around football in every aspect of my life.

Before arriving in Vietnam, my association with football... soccer that is.. was...well...   zero.  Being an Aussie girl I was brought up on Rugby.  I worked at league clubs whilst studying and my brother and Dad are both Rugby boys (League & Union).  Mum, being from Victoria, was only interested in AFL, and even then only in the 'short shorts and lean legs'.

Anyone who has followed this blog from my arrival will know I met my first footballer within weeks.   He later moved to Hong Kong to play there, we got engaged and he cheated.  In the numb time that followed that the dissolution of my engagement, I found myself swept up in a new relationship with another Nigerian footballer, his friend/enemy who spun me into a whirlwind of what I thought was true love.  Within months he has spun himself out of my arms and back into those of his previous Vietnamese bar girl/girlfriend.  It was then that two things happened.  Firstly, I actually had to face what had happened and deal with my broken heart (now broken twice) and secondly, as I had attended a few of his 1st Division games here in Vietnam... I actually stopped taking books to football games and started to pay attention.

Months went by, tears were shed, weight was gained.  My job seemed to only get better, my heart only hurt more.  I'd had crap relationships in the past, in fact, I am a serial loser boyfriend kind of girl.  From hit men to pilots, prisoners to porn kings....I've dated them all.   Since arriving in Saigon however... it's just been footballers.... of the African variety.

So after two gorgeous footballers, both Nigerians, breaking my heart... you would think the last person I would fall for is... another Nigerian Footballer.. right?  Wrong.  O sure, I resisted.  I swore I'd never date another one, I knew it would look crazy... but he was sweet, and gorgeous and he seemed like a simple guy with solid morals and I liked that.

Wrong again.

This one started at the end of the 2009 Season.  He played in the north of Vietnam but signed a contract with a big team just outside of Saigon.  The one guy I trusted (yes, another Nigerian Footballer... but cut of a far different cloth and for now still not exposed on this blog) vouched for him and told me to go for it so I did.   The 'high moral code' was endearing at first, but suffocating soon after.   God fearing is one thing, and as a church going Catholic I like to think I have some understanding of what being Christian is... but this guy made me feel... and told me often... that I was a terrible person and must become 'a better woman'.  From my weight, to my friends and family, to the way I worshipped.  He would often spend entire nights 'at his hotel in deep prayer' and arrive in the early hours to tell me about it.  Needless to say I started to lose my sense of worth and it was only when on the eve of 2010, when I found out he had a less than 'moral' Vietnamese girlfriend that I came to my senses.   Apparently his long nights 'in prayer' were actually 'in her'.

So that brings us to the year of the Tiger, well... a bit before actually.   My major client was investing massively in a World Cup campaign as they are an official partner of FIFA.  Of course, my 'knowledge' of football came in quite handy and I even managed to sign on two handsome and successful top grade footballers to be the faces of our campaign.  A South African dreamboat who also just happened to play in the same team as mr Moral high ground and a gorgeous local national player who played for another team, also just outside of Saigon, on the other side of town.  I wish I could say 'the rest is History'.. and it is... but not quite yet.   I'll let some pictures tell the rest of the story as always:

I couldn't resist starting with this one.  My all time favourite photo from the season.   Boyfriend number 3, getting a red card and told to get off the pitch.  I did the same when I found out about his little local friend.  Only in my league, he was not only suspended but cancelled.

My new wheels.   Most girls get their hair cut or eat chocolate, I decided the best way to move on was to buy some fast wheels.  Nothing makes me feel as good as flying through the streets of Saigon on this baby.  It's been pimped since this photo and is smokin hot.

World cup started early for us in Vietnam.  The trophy arrived on it's world tour stop in January.   I had spent the best part of Christmas and the New Year finalising getting these two hot guys to front our campaign and then making sure they made it worth it.  Dealing with the handsome South African was difficult at first as I was still in shock that his team mate had been Jekyll and Hyde.  However, as one door closes, another opens.   As I painfully dealt with the club of my recent ex, I also dealt with the other club, and ran into an old friend in the process.   A guy I met through my first footballer, in my first weeks in Vietnam.  A guy I always referred to as 'my fantasy' only because he was so ridiculously good looking, with a smile to die for and possible the nicest guy you could ever meet. He also just happened to be one of the best footballers in Vietnam, everyone seemed to know and adore him... and he spoke French as he was from Congo.  PHWA

Tshamala.   Yep, he even had a name that sounded like a sweet dessert.  My fantasy boy.   When I first ran into him again via my work I was surprised at how he still managed to render me speechless.  Not an easy feat and I found myself unable to speak and just staring at him.  I invited him (and other footballers) to come and see the World Cup trophy and K'Naan sing 'Wavin the flag'.  At the time I was thinking more about the PR we could get from having top footballers at our event, but secretly I also just wanted to see him.   It didn't take long before I could see the feeling was mutual and then I was really in a pickle.   Could I really handle a 4th footballer?  What about my work association with his club?  Not to mention if my ex-fiance found out I was in love with yet another one of his friends... but... it was Tshaaaaamala.

I decided if I was going to be stupid enough to do this, I might as well dive in the deep end.  So I found myself not only going to football games again, but supporting Manchester United to please him, and although everyone who knew me thought I was crazy, I only knew I was crazy in love.

He seemed to be suffering the same symptoms.  For the first time in a long time, I could see that this guy was truly in love with me.  Throw away the 'he's just not that into you' books, this guy was not only my ultimate fantasy, he was clearly, very very into me.  It was all too good to be true... and it unfortunatey was.  O sure, we may have been madly in love, and if this was a movie we would have eloped to Vegas and got married by elvis.  But that was never going to happen.  It wasn't going to happen because... he was already married.  An issue that, once out in the open, resulted in me constantly fighting with my Catholic beliefs and at the same time trying to be realistic about the situation.  I mean, this happens all the time right?  And he'd lived in Vietnam for 5 years, only going home once a year for a few weeks.  My heart and my head were at war... and so far neither have won and peace is yet to be declared.

So this is how I found myself in the role of a WAG once again, but this time at the top level, and as an illegitimate version.  I met the other wives and girlfriends.  Mostly beautiful foreigners.  They had serious relationships with their professional football men.  They had children or had travelled across the world to be with them.  I was neither... and I was the girlfriend... but not the wife.   I attended the games, I sat with the other girls, I liked them, I hoped they liked me... but we all knew the situation for what it was.  I no longer attended church and started to question my own moral beliefs and values

Life went on, I didn't think too hard about it.  The football campaign was going well, we had a brand new office at work and we celebrated with a big party.   Tsha was invited and loved by all as he always is.  He fitted in well, he made me proud and I let myself forget about the issue of his wife as we just had such a great time and fell more in love and I could see him starting to talk more and more about our future together.

Of course, there were still days where she would ring, and as I quietly left the room so he could talk to her and his kids (o yeah.. 3 of them)... I would again wonder what the hell I was doing and finally I dgave him the ultimatum.   Agree to divorce or set me free.  Of course I didn't expect it to happen any time soon.. I just needed to know it would.. one day.

In April, I went home to Australia.  My father was very sick and my brother had a new 6 week old daughter I had never met.   I spent 2 and a half weeks driving my mother to hospital in a city one hour from our town, cooking dinner and just trying to give whatever family support I could.  My Dad recovered pleasingly fast, my brother brought his beautiful and cheeky kids for the weekend and I remember just how much I love my family and how different life can be.

You see, other than myself, my immediate family don't really have 'drama'.  They are all married, stable and have been with the same partner most of their life.  Everything happened in the right order, no one had illegitimate children or sordid affairs.  I'm the 'entertainment' as my Mum so unkindly put it one day.   I am the one living in Vietnam, working in Advertising... and dating a married footballer.

I had told Tshamala he must make his decision by the time I returned from Australia as I knew I would feel stronger after being home and more able to handle it if the news was bad.

I returned from Australia, happy to see my man, happy to throw myself back into work/football but missing my family and my animals.  Tshamala asked for more time to make his decision but then caught me by surprise one day by tell me he had decided to stay with me, but just was not yet sure how to leave his wife as he had not seen her in two years, and there were children involved... and it was Africa.  

He also got me a cat.  A kitten we called Frank as he played a friendly match against a team from Frankfurt the night before we picked him up. A cheeky, vocal, little devil of a thing.

At first they were both terrified of each other.  Should they happen to fall asleep near each other, as this photos shows, when they work up they both leaped 10 feet in the air.   Within weeks however they were best buddies and bonded over their mutual love of kicking small balls all around the house.  Just what I needed in my life, a footballer cat.

Before I knew it, World Cup had arrived.  I was fortunate enough to be sent to experience it for myself in South Africa as part of my work.   The handsome South African brand ambassador required my 'supervision' as did the the TV crew we hauled with us.  I'm going to be honest and say it wasn't an experience I would ever want to repeat in my life, but there were some highlights.

I got to go to cheer on two games and hear the deep hum of Vuvuzela's for myself.  I also got to see the shy South African footballer who I had practically begged to be part of our campaign, become a professional media darling.  He made me so proud and I will be enternally grateful.  Thank you Philani.  You are amazing.

I got to meet and interview Bebeto.   That was pretty cool.    ESPN, CNN and  me on behalf of Vietnam.  I also got a special little Autograph for Tshamala.  He loved it.

I also got to meet Tsha's twin brother.  Aghhh yes.  You see, just when you think this can't possibly get more complicated, it does.  You see, Tshamala use to play in South Africa.  In fact, he played in the same team as Philani.  So his 'home' in Africa is not Congo, but Johannesburg.

It is in Jo'burg that his wife and family live, and also his twin brother who is lumped with the responsibility of taking care of them whilst his brother lives an entirely different life in South East Asia... with me and Frank the cat.  And as much as I loved my mr Wonderful, I loved his twin like he was my own brother.   I just wanted to pack him in my suitcase and bring him back to Vietnam and dreamed that we would all live happily ever after.

But my life is no fairytale.

Back in Vietnam, I returned from South Africa what I can only describe as traumatised.   The trip has been exhausting, disorganised, stressful and FUCKING COLD.

I moved to Vietnam because I hate the cold weather, so on top of everything, climbing into bed every night in jeans, tights, 3 jumpers and gloves only made me more distraught.  It's been two months since I returned and I still don't think I have fully recovered. 

I was however... very happy to come back to my man.   Unfortunately, he was now hesitating about what the future held as he suspected his wife had found out I had been hanging out with his twin during World Cup.   His deep fear of losing his children started to become a reality and he became torn.

Life continued.  Home games. Away games.  Watching games on TV with the other girlfriends.   My life seemed to only move from one Sunday to the next as it was only when I saw Tshamala that I didn't feel like an insane women stuck on a rollercoaster I was no longer enjoying.  Emotions ran high, drama ensured, it was no longer the 'fantasy' but a reality I could hardly bare to live through.  Most days I wanted to run and hide, and at least once a week I ended it with him and convinced myself I could walk away.  Within 24 hours we were always back again.  I had been through enough shit relationships to know the difference between infatuation and love... and for the first time, I believed someone loved me as much as I loved them - if not more.

I would see a picture of him, like the one above, and my heart would ache.  So graceful, so powerful and yet so kind and sweet.  Unfortunately this picture was attached to an article where he was quoted as saying he loved his family more than anything and it was this loyalty that kept him from 'promiscuity' in his life.  I felt like I had been stabbed in my heart.   I get the 'media relations' thing, I know it was his club that set it up.. I mean I work in Advertising after all.  It's why I've been so hesitant to update this blog.  It's why I've waited. But now the season is over.

This blog is meant to be my story.  My story of my life in Vietnam.  Although it was common knowledge we were together and we never tried to hide it... putting it out there in a public blog is a different matter... and then there was of course the issue of his wife.

So why now?  Why on the last day of the Season have I gone 'public' and decided to do the whole story?  Well... to be honest, now I am at a point where it can't possibly get worse.  The club no about me, after all, I attended every home game for the entire season.  He would walk off the field and embrace and kiss me.  We would leave together.  Yes tonight, I am not at the end of season official party with all the other WAG's because, well, because I am not official.  They know he is married.  It wouldn't be 'right'.

The press know about me, I was with half of them in South Africa, and as I said... we never tried to hide our love.

On top of that - she knows.

Yup.  We still don't know how, but she not only knows about me, she calls me.

Naturally the conversations are one way and usually involve her hurling insults at me and attacking me on everything she can think of, from my skin colour to my age to my looks.   His family seem to be under the impression I am some kind of football harlet who targeted him and is set on destroying his family, in reality I had agreed months ago that he may have at least another year to decide what to do to ensure he was making the right decision for his family (and for me).

It's been a tough season, I've lost a lot of friends, I've lost the one thing that always kept me grounded (church) and I am still not even sure when this ride will stop.   For now, he is in damage control with his family, but still unable to walk away from what we have.   I'm just a lost soul who hangs on to whatever threads of belief I still have that we can make this all worth it.  Every day I still have with him is treasured.

Vietnam has lost all it's appeal and where the craziness and wild pace once excited and inspired me, it now just irritates and frustrates me.   I just want to get off the ride now, I just want to feel like myself again but I'm not sure I even not who that is anymore.  I know need to go find out again, with or without my true love.

But most of all...  I just need to THANK GOD the bloody football season is over.

Here is little something that I'll always remember this 'season' for...