What was it Patton once said … “Fatigue makes cowards of us all?” Buddy could relate. After hours of battle, he had reached the point where victory no longer seemed to matter – nor did survival, really.
His own lack of sleep and the animal’s seemingly constant motion had finally worn him down. In this battle of man versus beast, the beast was winning – and had almost won. And that was fine because one way or another, this all had to end.
Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Threads @sladamson1960 and Adamsonmedia on Facebook.
Before entering the arena, he had been warned. He was too old, too weak, too unprepared to take on something that was simply too, too much to handle. But in his mind, he knew he still had one more fight in him. Well, he thought he did, anyway.
After all, he had done this before – many times, in fact. And there had been myriad occasions when he was so exhausted he could barely hold his head up. Yet somehow, he endured. Day after day, night after night, he tried to break what appeared to be an unbreakable foe.
Had he thought of giving up?
Sure. Honorable or otherwise, sometimes defeat is inevitable.
But he never tapped out, and because he didn’t, his enemies of the past ultimately became his friends for life. And that’s why these battles were irresistible.
So, here he was again, sprawled on the ground and devoid of energy. Coming towards him was the creature – razor-sharp teeth glistening … its eyes bright with mischief. If the man just gave up, perhaps it would all be over.
Yet, he didn’t.
Instead, Buddy reached out with the rope, waved it wildly, and coerced the predator into clamping down on it.
The critter shook it vigorously, growled, and then collapsed.
Why?
The man had no clue.
It seemed to have boundless energy, only to stop briefly and abruptly start back again. Thus, Buddy knew the reprieve would be ever so brief.
The opportunity to take flight was there; he could run, he could hide – he could even race outside, get into his car, and drive away.
Instead, he crawled over to the puppy, kissed it on the head, and managed a smile.
Some things are always worth fighting for, no matter how tiring.
I don’t like to brag, but in the world of association football I’m something of a tycoon. You see, I’m part-owner of not one, not two, but three professional soccer clubs.
There’s Celtic FC, members of the Scottish Premiership and my most favored side.
Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Threads @sladamson1960 and Adamsonmedia on Facebook.
I am the proud owner of one ordinary share of one pence – fully paid – in Celtic PLC (subject to the articles of association of the company, of course). I even get an annual vote on who should serve as board members.
Celtic open against Kilmarnock today to start the 2024-25 season, and I’ll be dressed for the occasion as I cheer on the 54-time Scottish champions.
Manchester United?
Yep … they’re mine. I became fascinated by the Red Devils when I first read about them in a book I found in my grammar school’s library. I’m the holder of one fully paid and non-assessable share of Class A ordinary shares, which is $0.0005 value per share.
I get voting privileges and each year the Premier League club sends me a check for nine cents. It goes directly into savings because I try to be responsible with my money.
And finally, I possess one share of Class S stock in Chattanooga FC, who started in the National Premier Soccer League (NPSL), moved to the National Independent Soccer Association (NISA), and now compete in MLS Next Pro. Saturday night they played Toronto FC II to a 1-1 draw, but picked up an additional point by winning on penalties.
I have a framed certificate, yard sign and T-shirt that says “Chattanooga FC Owner,” so you know it’s legit.
While I’m honored to have a piece of these clubs, my first love – the New York Cosmos – remain in limbo. And I truly wish I had a financial stake in their future.
You remember the Cosmos … the team that won five championships and once featured the likes of Pele, Franz Beckenbauer, Giorgio Chinaglia and Carlos Alberto. They drew more than 77,000 to Giants Stadium during a North American Soccer League playoff game in 1977 (and averaged more than 42,000 spectators per home match that season).
Ah, those were the glory days.
The last competition for a Cosmos-branded team was September 28, 2020 – a 2-1 loss to the Los Angeles Force in the NISA Fall Tournament played at Keyworth Stadium in Hamtramck, Michigan. Attendance was zero since it was contested during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Not long after that defeat, the Cosmos canceled their spring season, went on hiatus, and haven’t been heard from since.
And this makes me sad, especially since I have a closet full of caps, T-shirts and jerseys that make it quite obvious I’m still a supporter.
The first version of the Cosmos folded in 1985, along with the rest of the NASL. The “retirement league” stocked with aging international stars finally fell out of favor with American soccer fans, who moved on to – well, things other than soccer.
But the Cosmos were reborn in 2010 in the modern version of the NASL. It was a second-tier league below Major League Soccer in the pyramid, but aspired to grow into a real competitor. I liked that circuit a lot and hoped it would ultimately reach First Division status and give MLS headaches.
The new NASL wasn’t the same as the old NASL, but I still embraced it – and the Cosmos. They reminded me of my younger days when I first became a fan of the Beautiful Game, and their iconic logo – colorful blades surrounding a ball –remains one of my favorite badges.
Sadly, NASL 2 died in 2017 after losing a lengthy legal battle with the United States Soccer Federation involving PLS (Professional League Standards), so I’d had the Cosmos taken from me for a second time.
But wait!
They kinda/sorta lived on in the fourth tier NPSL as a reserve team (New York Cosmos B) starting in 2015, and in 2019 they lost the “B” and became part of NISA.
And, technically, I guess they still are members of the independent circuit. But since they haven’t taken the field in nearly four years, that hiatus is starting to look more and more like a permanent vacation … a bye-atus, if you will.
And the guy who owns them, Rocco B. Commiso, has pretty much forgotten about them now that he’s owner/chairman of ACF Fiorentina of Serie A.
I certainly understand why he’d put all his energies into “La Viola” … the Italian league has a tad more juice than little ‘ol NISA. But if he isn’t going to do anything with the Cosmos, I wish he’d sell them.
And considering I have a claim in two international clubs and one domestic team, I humbly request that he sell them to me.
If you’re reading this Mr. Commiso, I currently have $147.26 in my checking account, and I can Venmo you $140 by Monday (I’m holding back the other $7.26 because I’m running low on bananas and need to make a quick run to the store).
As a billionaire, you don’t even need my money, which is what makes it such a lovely gesture on my part. And if you no longer care about the Cosmos, put them in the care of someone who does.
No, I don’t have a league to put them in, a place for them to play, or a coaching staff and players. I haven’t had time to research any of that because I didn’t even come up with this column idea until late last night. But what I do offer is a real passion for the club.
I might own some other teams, but this is the one that still owns my heart.
Anyway, I hope you’ll consider my offer. Because when I say “Cosmos Forever,” I really do mean it.
Any time Olympus Tyrrhena walked through the wide double-door of the shelter, his olfactory sense was hit with a chemical-like agent that – while often unsuccessful – was designed to mask odors. Still, for him it was a familiar and welcoming aroma, and one that accompanied a genuine feeling of excitement.
The smell meant there were cages, and cages meant there were animals in them, and those animals were always ready for adoption.
Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Threads @sladamson1960 and Adamsonmedia on Facebook.
“My friend!” shouted the greeter, Tharsis Cimmeria. “So glad to see you again. We have some new arrivals I’m sure you’ll be interested in.”
“You always do, Tharsis,” Tyrrhena said. “Truthfully, I’m not even sure what I’m looking for today. Hopefully I’ll know it when I see it.”
The Noachis Shelter was the largest in what was once the West Coast of the United States. An old naval barracks that had been converted into an adoption center, it could house as many as 3,000 animals at one time. And it was almost always filled to capacity. It seemed that for every one that was taken away to its forever home, another five were corralled while running wild outside the facility. In a perfect world, all the adoptees would be carefully matched with the adopters, but in recent times officials at Noachis Shelter simply wanted to make sure business ran smoothly – and quickly.
If you had the resources to get an animal, the animal was yours with no questions asked.
“Now, the last time you were here you got Eddie, the male, right?” Cimmeria asked. “I remember him well … always banging against the cage and howling. Not a lot of our customers would take a chance on an animal like that. I hope he’s working out for you.”
Tyrrhena sighed.
“Unfortunately, I had to have him put down,” he said. “I gave him as much time as I could to adjust to his new surroundings, but he could never do it. He was extremely violent and very disruptive. I had to have him destroyed because I was afraid he was going to hurt the other animals, as well as himself. It’s a shame, but when you go through as many as I have in the last couple of years, you get used to it. Well … you never get used to it, but you learn to live with it. Anyway, that’s why I’m here today, to see if I can find one to replace the one I lost.”
With Cimmeria providing a loose follow, Tyrrhena walked down the aisles of the shelter and carefully eyed each individual cage. It was rare when one of the animals made eye contact with him, and when they did it was always fleeting. What he enjoyed most was seeing the ones who were curled up sleeping. Whether true or not, he believed those who were slumbering in the cages would be easier to tame.
Finally, Tyrrhena found what he was looking for. An animal with bushy red hair, and so new to the shelter he still had on his uniform.
“We call him Captain,” Cimmeria said. “We think he was in that group of resistance fighters we captured just last week, but we couldn’t find any identification on him. Now that we’ve all assumed humanoid form and characteristics, they don’t even know who to fight anymore. Soon we’ll have complete control of this hemisphere, so we’re going to need even more shelters.”
Two staffers quickly joined Cimmeria, who prepared to open the cage and quickly tie up Captain.
“So … are you going to keep him at your Earth dwelling or take him back to Mars?”
“By the looks of him, he’ll be more of a labor animal, so I’ll probably leave him here to work the fields,” Tyrrhena said. “Besides, Promethai would kill me if I brought another pet home.”
