As the season progresses the players seem to acquire greater skill and nimbleness in their ability to dribble the ball and so their potential value as a play-maker or striker gains increasing promise.
Inter-club transfers are possible even in mid-season. And the club celebrations grow ever more glittery and flamboyant with flags, lights, and floating confetti to give shimmer to the ambiance as the stage lights illuminate them. The garlands put around the neck of new entrants, the hand holdings that accompany victory chants and the time at the podium to voice the rationality of their new decisions -- whether it be their discovery of a new winning formula or philosophy in the present club, or the high decibel affirmation of their secret past yearnings to be amongst those who have proven to be the sustaining force of perseverance, or that the revelation of a past friendship they harboured with the new club’s managers are all expositions of the hypocrisy that are voiced to melt the heart of the followers and propel hurt to the club they left behind.
All through the glitter of this celebration is the silent message of condoning hypocrisy. That betrayal is all right as long as a rival argument can be voiced with consummate oratory skill. The club members are jubilant and hear the affirmation with delight while some in the spectators are aghast at the unfolding of these events that seem to signal to the next generation of players that everything is fair in life as long as there is possible benefit to the perpetrator to be ferreted out in any way possible. Life is to be lived in the spirit of deceptive competition they say, and the call for perfidy needs to be celebrated -- not shunned.