The Finance Guys beat me and David from HR easily. In fact, they were almost nonchalant about it. It's no surprise really, given that they play every lunchtime. Time and time again, the ball smashed into the goal, we fished it out, span it in and watched it ricochet through our players as though they weren't even there. 10-3 in the first game, 10-0 in the second. Oh well.
The table-football competition seems to have captured everyone's imagination. I overheard someone the other day chatting to his team-mate about tactics, about how they needed to practice, even though they'd be OK against 'ordinary teams'. I chortled to myself at the seriousness of it. Meanwhile, there's worry etched into the faces of certain other people as their matches crop up.
So, my duty making up the numbers is done. The Finance Guys zip into the second round while the plucky underdogs retire defeated. It's not the way Hollywood would have done it.
I was thinking earlier about that, actually. How come dogs in Hollywood always know who the bad guys are, long before the main characters have figured it out? You want to know who's going to turn the gun on you in the stand-off? Ask your poodle - they have a way of working it out.
It must be the same sixth sense that enables Hollywood dogs to somehow survive any natural disaster. From floods to alien invasions, tornadoes to CGI apocalypses, Hollywood dogs have been surviving the end of the world somehow, for years. The President gets crushed by an upturned battle-cruiser, but hey it's alright, that nice lady's dawg jumped out of the way in time. What's that, Lassie? The kids are stuck in old man Smithers's well and the water's filling up and they might drown? How did you get out? And how is your coat dry? There's an explosion ripping through a tunnel? Will Boomer make it out OK? What's that? Boomer's in a chick-flick with Jennifer Aniston and Owen Wilson? Ah...
No, in Hollywood, the story would have been much more David and Goliath than David and Matt and the Finance Goliaths. 9-9 in the deciding game, the whole company crowd round the table-football table in a hushed silence. Slow motion, the sound of hearts pounding as the Finance Guys spin the ball in. It bounces around, off the sides and trickles along the goal line until with one swift motion, David from HR flicks a wrist and the goalkeeper spins the ball upfield. Matt's forwards bounce it off each other, the ball bounces into the air, and down and then on the volley... boom... into the back of the Finance Guys' goal!
Cue the cheering crowd, high-fiving each other in delight. Cue the disgruntled Finance Guys slinking off under the cheesy eighties music. Roll credits.
Yeah, it didn't happen like that. It never does.
Except in Hollywood.
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