Sports Betting Addict - My Current Story : problemgambling

Bets and Bravery: Chapter 985!

You know what really grinds my gears? People ditching waifus they liked one season for another they fell for in another anime season. This utter lack of waifu loyalty simply disgusts me. And that's why I'm grateful One Piece is year-round so that seasonal waifus don't distract us here.
Hrm? What's that? There was an oni girl with light-and-dark hair revealed in the latest One Piece chapter? Sorry, Pudding, but I've gotta go!

Links

Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, and everybody in between, welcome back to...

Bets and Bravery!

Welcome one, welcome all, we're glad to have you! If you're new to Bets and Bravery, B&B is a weekly thread on this subreddit where users bet with fake currency, the Beli from in-universe, on what they think will happen in each week's chapter in a series of bets made by yours truly. I keep track of everyone's money in a giant Google Sheet, which is available in the links above. So, if you're new, enjoy your time! But, if you're a regular on this thread, we're glad to see you back at OnePiece's unofficial official pasttime!
I hope you've all had a good week so far with whatever's been happening in your lives. If you haven't had such a good week so far, I'm wishing the best for you and hope I can brighten your day even a little bit with this post.
Before we get started, let's refresh your memory of last chapter to get you back on betting track!

Last Time on One Piece

So let's talk about that chapter.
In proper anime fashion, Page One and Ulti immediately get up completely unscathed from a big attack from our heroes and begin their chase after Luffy and Yamato. Meanwhile, Yamato fends off Luffy's attacks while trying to get him to come along and listen to Yamato's pleas, eventually managing an escape from the scene. Blending in alongside Kaido's men are numerous Kozuki samurai, Nico Robin, and Jinbe, who all decided having a quick drink would be more important than saving Momo from being executed. At the backside of the mountain, Law and the Heart Pirates' Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin use Law's room to teleport to Onigashima's rear shore alongside the Scabbards who stowed away on their ship. Meeting them at the back entrance are Nekomamushi, who now sports a gun on his hand to finally match the cat he was based on, Marco, who immediately dips as though his job at Wano is done, and Izo, who reunites with Kiku for the first time since leaving with Whitey-chan. Kaido and his All-Stars take the stage at Momo's execution to announce the "New Onigashima" Project, but more importantly we finally get some Short King representation with the man, King, himself, as he barely even reaches Kaido's shoulders. Back inside the castle, we learn that Yamato has become a devout Christian and devoted himself to the only God in the One Piece World, Enel Usopp Kozuki Oden, adopting his ideals after witnessing his execution and later discovering his journal. Then, what happens next shocks the world, Oda finally introduces another monster girl waifu in Kaido's oni daughter, Yamato, who declares her joining Luffy's cause.
With that out of the way, let's get right into the real meat of the thread...

Chapter 985 Betting

The Bets of the Week

Bet 390

Making their surprise entrance at the Roast of Kozuki Momonosuke, which frankly was pretty disappointing so far with the biggest stingers being "this little whelp" and the classic "your dad's dead" jokes from Orochi, were Kaido and his All-Stars. Before entering the stage, Kaido asked where Linlin was, only to be informed that she was on her way there despite the very clear dramatic irony in that we know she's too preoccupied with her daily prayer to GoD Usopp to do so. Despite this clear plot hole from Oda, Kaido and his commanders take the stage, deciding to liven up the execution with an exciting announcement.
The "New Onigashima" Project!
Yep, that's all we get. Oda's blue-balled us again by cutting away to a different plotline. But this project of Kaido's could end up being something massive. Considering the Beasts Pirates already know about the Yonkou Alliance between Big Mom and Kaido, it couldn't just be a simple restatement of the fact. And the name's suspect too, "New Onigashima", what does it all mean? Considering Kaido asked for Big Mom, it possibly has something to do with her or her family please not another marriage, Oda. I don't want a repeat of WCI's plot nor could I handle romance when I'm dreadfully single. Either way, you all know the drill by now. Dear audience, what exactly is the "New Onigashima" Project?

Bet 391

Having breached the ocean currents around the wintry backside of Onigashima with the Polar Tang, Law, his most-trusted subordinates, and the Scabbards aboard the ship have finally reached Kaido's back door. Joined by Izo and Nekomamushi, the Scabbards have almost reunited completely for the first time in decades, and their goal of reclaiming Wano by killing Orochi and Kaido is within their grasp. The problem is, there's two pathways at Onigashima's rear, and Law believes the one up top "has to be the way to Kaido". Knowing Oda, that's probably not true, and it's especially unlikely that this plan will actually go off without a hitch.
With swarms of Beasts Pirates all over the island, multiple branching pathways, a hefty surveillance system, Neko and Inu actually having to work together, and One Piece's curse against plans working as intended, there are plenty of obstacles preventing smooth sailing. Dear audience, will Law and the Scabbards be able to reach Orochi and/or Kaido without any troubles?

Bet 392

What's that? A new character has appeared in One Piece, is working parallel to or with the heroes, has a unique design, a backstory, and a dream that can only be fulfilled by working with the Strawhat crew? I guess it's time for another one of these bets, so without further ado, let's get right into it.
Having witnessed Oden's execution 20 years ago, Kaido's daughter Yamato decided to carry on the deceased Kozuki's will. Finding his journal from his voyages at sea and adopting his style, Yamato became the Oden she so admired. She clashed with Ace years ago when he reached Wano himself, she wants to open Wano to the world at large, and she wants to join the Strawhat Alliance to make those ends come to fruition. Is Yamato's role temporary, or will she truly follow in Oden's footsteps and go out to sea just like he did once he found a suitable pirate crew? Dear audience, will Yamato join the Strawhat crew?

Bet 393

This bet is where you can bet how many pages Chapter 985 will feature!
Note: Shounen Jump covers, fan art pages, or translator note pages from early scans or the official release are not counted here. Double page spreads are counted as two separate pages. Color pages and color spreads are counted. Cover story serials and fan-requested cover pages are counted.

Bet 394

Our final bet this week is about the main focus of this week's chapter! The chapter may cover multiple storylines, in which case, the correct answer will be whichever storyline the chapter gave the most attention to in terms of pages or panels, should it get that close!

Weekly Mini-Game

As is customary when I have no clue what the next chapter's going to be about, it's time for your regularly scheduled panel mini-game! Dear audience, I want you to guess how many panels will make up Chapter 985!
Guess 100% correctly on this, and you'll receive a whopping 1,500,000 Beli! If nobody guesses correctly, the closest answer receives 750,000 Beli! If multiple people guess correctly or are evenly close to the correct answer, the bounty is evenly split among them to the nearest 1,000 Beli!

End of Chapter 985 Betting

And with that, we've come to the end of another exciting week of Betting and Bravery! I hope you enjoyed what we had this week, as I enjoyed making B&B for you!
Now, please listen to the following tutorial on how to play:
I can tell that you are very good at gambling... and you haven't even bet your hardest yet!!
200K on 390D!
500K on 391B!
10M on 392A!
2M on 393B!
250K on 394B!
74 panels for the WMG!

Notes and Reminders

Thanks for Participating!

thanks to everyone out there who dropped by to read this thread, whether all the way through, just skimming, or just dropping by to see what this thread was. I'm truly grateful you all come by and support my work here as much as you do, so thank you. I hope I can keep living up to your expectations as host!
I wish you all good luck on this week's bets, and I will see you all back later this week after the chapter drops and the results thread is out for you all to see how you did! Until next time!
-MADKITTIEZ
submitted by MADKITTIEZ to OnePiece [link] [comments]

On the edge of cliff, this could be the end.

I am tired of losing. I am tired of feeling like a sack of shit. This is my story. I moved to Canada from India back in 2015, I was ready to make it big in life and thought life was going to be amazing after moving to Toronto. Enrolled in a post graduate program at a college in Toronto, life was fine as a student. I had never gambled in my life but I was curious about it as I always saw odds being displayed while watching my favorite sports(MMA, Soccer, etc) on TV. In August 2015, I opened an account on a Canadian sportsbook (Sportsinteraction), and I was a low limit player. I would bet on Soccer and MMA. I would bet like 20 bucks on crazy parlays, but it was just once a week so I never felt bad about it. Started dating my wife in 2016 and kind of forgot about gambling for a while as love is something you don't come across all the time. Started gambling again in 2017 and was still a low limit player. In 2018, I realized that I was getting tired of the rat race and I wanted to make big money so I thought maybe gambling would be the way to do it as I was good at predicting outcomes for the sports I was interested in. Problem is , I was always betting on parlays, as greed always beat the shit out of my practicality in my head. I would always go for the higher odds and I would end up Losing. My bets increased from 20$/week to 300$/week. I was still okay because I had a steady job and I had about 40-50k in savings. Then I made the worst decision of my life, I moved from Toronto to a small city in Atlantic Canada (Saint John,NB). New garbage city, no friends, a new high stress job (transportation planning), I wanted to make fast money and buy my wife a house(been her dream since she moved to Canada as well). 2019, I made 60k from my job, I didn't see a single penny from this income end up staying in my bank account for too long as I would gamble 500-1000$ a week on stupid parlays and never win. When I would bet on 1-2 games with heavy favorites, I would still lose as the underdogs would pull off massive upsets and at those moments I would think maybe god/the universe is out to get me. I still had 40-50k left over in savings from the previous years when 2020 came about. I thought to myself that maybe this is the year that i get it all back. Then the coronavirus hit and all sports stopped, i didn't know what to bet on anymore. That's when I discovered blackjack, I don't trust RNG so I thought I would play on the live tables and make some cash. The first two weeks were bad. I lost around 15k in those two weeks and I thought I should stop. But the pain of losing 30-40k in the past 3 years and the idea that I could somehow recover those losses convinced me to give it another shot. I developed a strategy and started playing again. My strategy worked, I made 1500$-2000$ per day and I was up to 20k, I was thinking to myself "I can make 60k per month from this shit". I was going to withdraw 15k the next day, but somehow thought to myself maybe I should play another hand before I withdraw this cash, I lost a couple hundred bucks and wanted to get it back, kept on losing for the next two hours and then lost all of the 20k I had make in the past week. I was so pissed, in those moments you feel like this is a cruel joke being played on you and someone is watching from somewhere and laughing at you. April, May and now June. Every day of the past three months I have been depositing 300-1000k into my account and gambling on blackjack trying to win my money back. Some days, I make 2-3k and end up losing it all a day or two later. I hate myself and feel like shit. My wife keeps reminding that we have to buy a house in Toronto next year as she is sick of this small town and wants to move back to the big city and doesn't want to pay rent anymore. She has no clue that I only have 100$ left in my checking account. I do have some savings in my retirement account (10k) that I cannot touch unless I go to the bank and I don't plan on doing that. But I have effectively destroyed my life. I could have been having 100-130k in savings right now but I am sitting here alone in my kitchen, with nothing left in my bank account. I have been having vivid suicidal thoughts for the past two months and I am very close to writing a suicide note for my family and friends. I don't know how I could break the news to my wife about my gambling addiction as she would probably not be able to handle such devastating news. I have a 2yr old son with her and the only reason I haven't killed myself yet is because of the guilt I feel when I think of abandoning them. I have become a shell of who I used to be, I used to be funny, smart and I could always make people feel comfortable in my presence. Now i don't interact with anyone and am always glued to my phone, gambling my money and possibly my life away. I don't know what to do anymore. This could be the end of my story.
submitted by Gambladdict to problemgambling [link] [comments]

10 years of gambling addiction comes to a close.

Hello,
I thought I would essentially start my journey by posting here so I can get my thoughts written out in black and white. Ultimately my journey began fairly common to others in the UK. I was 17 years of age starting to become interested in going to football with friends and putting on accumulators mostly multiple £1 bets or the odd £5 ones never spending more than £10-£15 pounds over the course of the weekend. Like most I have the fond memory of winning big and still had the screenshot of it until recently when I moved onto betting online when the gambling apps started coming out thick and fast rather than going into the bookmaker shops themselves. £2.50 I had placed on a 250/1 double and at the age of 18 I thought I had won the lottery I did not gamble all the money away I spent it enjoying myself and going out with friends and continued spending small with gambling.
Not long after this it turned into going to the casino every other weekend for something to eat, drink and of course bet. I remember going with a few friends and one of them was starting with £800 which he had in cash. I had never in my life seen this much money in cash before and was just blown away by it. I cannot even remember on the night if he won or lost money all I can remember is that wad of cash and thinking that is what I want to be like and be able to afford to bet that amount. Long story short of course my friend at the time ended up become extremely addicted to gambling as I realised over the years to come.
Roll on 5 years later I have lost endless amounts of money by throwing away my wages every single day. Gambling online week after week, month after month and in turn year after year. Some of the moments that stick out in my mind were when I would sit up and wait for pay to come into my bank at 02:00am when I had work the next day and it would be lost within an hour or 2, an entire months hard work of getting up 5 times a week doing a job for 8-10 hours a day all gone in usually no time at all. Unfortunately for me this is when the real trouble would start. When this would happen I would instantly turn to payday loans to essentially replace my lost wage to live on for that month. I would usually be fairly good I will still gamble but I would try and keep some for getting through the month regarding transport and food etc. Of course the time would eventually roll round where I would need to pay the high interest loan off and it would be sidelined as I had just been paid and the mentality was I can win the money back, pay off the loan and life would be good back to square one. The reality is, the true meaning of square one is something that no real gambling addict has experienced for years. The average person would be fairly unhappy living pay cheque to pay cheque month after month and having no savings, where as I would bite your hand off to be back in that situation debt free and a clean slate.
Unfortunately for me I was extremely good friends with a very disciplined person who I looked up to for all things gambling, the truth is he was a winner and he used to tell me " A good gambler is judged on how they lose not how they win " If you can lose money and accept it and go to your bed knowing you placed a good bet or even a bad bet and it lost and put it behind you and go again fresh the next day you are doing something right. I on the other hand was the chase your loses type. I could not face losing money and it was either win it back there and then or lose the lot and deal with that instead.
My story I feel is a little different from others because at one point I actually had success where I was not working and quite literally gambling for a living (if you can believe that). I essentially saved up and won money creating a fairly large bankroll. I had a spreadsheet where I documented every bet I placed, unit sizes, odds and all the rest and the truth is it worked. I have been an avid follower of a very niche sport all my life my knowledge is very high regarding that particular sport if you mix that in with when I discovered bookmakers starting to offering odds on it that was that I knew my goal. I had a little group where I would post the picks to and obviously done well from it. I experienced having accounts limited and closed by bookmakers while getting the emails saying " The traders have decided as a business decision we regret to inform you we are closing/limiting your account ". Now when you receive emails like this it does something to your ego, you absolutely know you are hurting their business plan of having a full customer base of losers and they no longer want your business. I began starting buying accounts off friends in order to access specific bookmakers so I could place my bets etc. It was a great time and a very successful one. Sadly it did not last, when I was doing this 95% of my time was spent researching, reviewing footage and genuinely digging for all information I could get. The other 5% was looking for the best available odds and placing my bet. I was much more sensible with my stakes because I had a clear head and a free mind to actually think correctly on what I was doing.
Not long after this I began ultimately spending more money than I was making causing a sort of panic to make more but instead of putting more effort into studying my niche sport which I was consistently winning on and looking for a good spot, I would turn to chance and pure luck. Goals bets in football on any random game inplay, Roulette, Blackjack etc etc etc. I would happily place an £800 spin on roulette yet my maximum bet on my niche sport would be £125. A pick where I would be on the value side with a genuine edge against the bookmaker, a bet where I would be placing it at odds of 6/4(2.50) and the bet would close at 8/11(1.72). Utter madness. I put this down to the state of mind I was in. When I was researching I was not getting drawn in by a gambling website I had my little plan in place and I carried it out. I was on gambling websites briefly to place the bet and then log off. But when I was sat on betting sites looking for a bet it would just completely spiral out of control.
I am currently 27 years old and I feel like I have been gambling CONSTANTLY for almost 10 years, which sadly I ultimately have been. I am in debt and although coming out and admitting it to people who care about me there are still secrets I cannot share regarding money owed out etc. I have decimated my credit score, have registered with almost every bookmaker going and I have closed multiple bank accounts over the years that were absolutely littered with betting transactions. I recently found an old statement from 2012 and it was such a surreal situation thinking what age I was back then and yet my bank statements look identical to this day.
I have not posted this for sympathy or anything like that the main reason for posting today is mainly to help other people and for closure. I always take everything with a pinch of salt online like most do but believe me when I say I have experienced every aspect of gambling. The lowest lows of losing, the highest highs of winning big(lucky), the thrill of being extremely disciplined and focused on making money consistently, closing accounts and saying never ever again to finally having accounts limited as mentioned previously for winning.
The bottom line when it comes to gambling is you just simply CANNOT win over your life time so why are you doing it? You are essentially paying a direct debit throughout your life to all these different betting companies for a bit of dopamine to be released in your brain. I manged to clear my debt and had about £10,000 saved £5,000 bankroll and was on cloud 9 and look where I am at now. I have £100 in my bank for the essentials and about £10,000 in debt just 3 odd years later. I have carried on for so long to try and re-live the dream I thought I had but the hard hitting reality is even when I was doing well I was constantly fighting against being banned from shops and having accounts online limited and closed. Even when you win you cannot win for long so it is pointless. I am a risk taker at heart and can be very impulsive which for a gambler is a non starter. It will NEVER end well if you have these types of traits as you could do well for months or years being disciplined but one day that IMPULSE will burst through your body and overcome and ruin all your hard work.
This might come across like I am bitter about the situation but I am not. I actually feel a real sense of relief typing this up today, usually when I read these sorts of posts from other users and it is day 1 for them for quitting gambling I skip over it because I think yeah, you will be back at it tomorrow or when you next get money, not very supportive but it is the truth none the less for most I feel.
One thing that is happening right now within the gambling industry is safer gambling adverts especially in the UK. I realised that what they are doing is the same as what sugary food product companies done with regards to their food stuffs being deemed unhealthy they were ultimately asked to remove certain products but instead they turned it round as said they would introduce more healthier, lower sugafat alternatives instead which resulted in just adding more of their products to the market. That is EXACTLY what the gambling firms are doing just now they have been told about the harm it is doing and have been told to essentially lower the amount of exposure to children/adults alike with these adverts and their response is not to reduce the amount but to introduce safer gambling when the fun stops, stop adverts just increasing the amount of times their logo appears on your screen through multiple more adverts.
Anyway, I would like to think at least one person reads this and it makes them think twice. Maybe somebody who is 18 and has just began gambling or maybe somebody who is similar ages to myself or even older who can relate to my experience in anyway.
If you have managed to read all of this then well done, If I came across a post browsing on this after a loss and seen it was this length I would not bother, I would skip to the end like my impulsive personality would command me to do which is a little reminder as to why I am posting this in the first place being a compulsive and impatience gambler.
To end on a positive note my gambling journey comes to an end today. I am 27 years old and have been at it from 17 and enough is ultimately enough for me. My new goal has been laid out prior to writing this in regards to avoiding temptation, paying off what I owe and what to do with my wages going forward.
I wish anybody reading this who is struggling all the best and if you have any intention to quit and have stumbled across this sub-reddit then it is time to quit or else you would not be here and you know it. As for anybody who reads through this and still gambles themselves then maybe take a look at what you are doing and if you can honestly look yourself in the mirror and admit you have no problem then great and good luck with what you are doing.
If you want to maybe ask more about my situation in relation to your own, have any questions or are just looking for somebody to listen to your story then feel free to message me.
Thanks,
LD.
submitted by LetniyDozihdik to GamblingAddiction [link] [comments]

10 years of gambling addiction comes to a close.

Hello,
I thought I would essentially start my journey by posting here so I can get my thoughts written out in black and white. Ultimately my journey began fairly common to others in the UK. I was 17 years of age starting to become interested in going to football with friends and putting on accumulators mostly multiple £1 bets or the odd £5 ones never spending more than £10-£15 pounds over the course of the weekend. Like most I have the fond memory of winning big and still had the screenshot of it until recently when I moved onto betting online when the gambling apps started coming out thick and fast rather than going into the bookmaker shops themselves. £2.50 I had placed on a 250/1 double and at the age of 18 I thought I had won the lottery I did not gamble all the money away I spent it enjoying myself and going out with friends and continued spending small with gambling.
Not long after this it turned into going to the casino every other weekend for something to eat, drink and of course bet. I remember going with a few friends and one of them was starting with £800 which he had in cash. I had never in my life seen this much money in cash before and was just blown away by it. I cannot even remember on the night if he won or lost money all I can remember is that wad of cash and thinking that is what I want to be like and be able to afford to bet that amount. Long story short of course my friend at the time ended up become extremely addicted to gambling as I realised over the years to come.
Roll on 5 years later I have lost endless amounts of money by throwing away my wages every single day. Gambling online week after week, month after month and in turn year after year. Some of the moments that stick out in my mind were when I would sit up and wait for pay to come into my bank at 02:00am when I had work the next day and it would be lost within an hour or 2, an entire months hard work of getting up 5 times a week doing a job for 8-10 hours a day all gone in usually no time at all. Unfortunately for me this is when the real trouble would start. When this would happen I would instantly turn to payday loans to essentially replace my lost wage to live on for that month. I would usually be fairly good I will still gamble but I would try and keep some for getting through the month regarding transport and food etc. Of course the time would eventually roll round where I would need to pay the high interest loan off and it would be sidelined as I had just been paid and the mentality was I can win the money back, pay off the loan and life would be good back to square one. The reality is, the true meaning of square one is something that no real gambling addict has experienced for years. The average person would be fairly unhappy living pay cheque to pay cheque month after month and having no savings, where as I would bite your hand off to be back in that situation debt free and a clean slate.
Unfortunately for me I was extremely good friends with a very disciplined person who I looked up to for all things gambling, the truth is he was a winner and he used to tell me " A good gambler is judged on how they lose not how they win " If you can lose money and accept it and go to your bed knowing you placed a good bet or even a bad bet and it lost and put it behind you and go again fresh the next day you are doing something right. I on the other hand was the chase your loses type. I could not face losing money and it was either win it back there and then or lose the lot and deal with that instead.
My story I feel is a little different from others because at one point I actually had success where I was not working and quite literally gambling for a living (if you can believe that). I essentially saved up and won money creating a fairly large bankroll. I had a spreadsheet where I documented every bet I placed, unit sizes, odds and all the rest and the truth is it worked. I have been an avid follower of a very niche sport all my life my knowledge is very high regarding that particular sport if you mix that in with when I discovered bookmakers starting to offering odds on it that was that I knew my goal. I had a little group where I would post the picks to and obviously done well from it. I experienced having accounts limited and closed by bookmakers while getting the emails saying " The traders have decided as a business decision we regret to inform you we are closing/limiting your account ". Now when you receive emails like this it does something to your ego, you absolutely know you are hurting their business plan of having a full customer base of losers and they no longer want your business. I began starting buying accounts off friends in order to access specific bookmakers so I could place my bets etc. It was a great time and a very successful one. Sadly it did not last, when I was doing this 95% of my time was spent researching, reviewing footage and genuinely digging for all information I could get. The other 5% was looking for the best available odds and placing my bet. I was much more sensible with my stakes because I had a clear head and a free mind to actually think correctly on what I was doing.
Not long after this I began ultimately spending more money than I was making causing a sort of panic to make more but instead of putting more effort into studying my niche sport which I was consistently winning on and looking for a good spot, I would turn to chance and pure luck. Goals bets in football on any random game inplay, Roulette, Blackjack etc etc etc. I would happily place an £800 spin on roulette yet my maximum bet on my niche sport would be £125. A pick where I would be on the value side with a genuine edge against the bookmaker, a bet where I would be placing it at odds of 6/4(2.50) and the bet would close at 8/11(1.72). Utter madness. I put this down to the state of mind I was in. When I was researching I was not getting drawn in by a gambling website I had my little plan in place and I carried it out. I was on gambling websites briefly to place the bet and then log off. But when I was sat on betting sites looking for a bet it would just completely spiral out of control.
I am currently 27 years old and I feel like I have been gambling CONSTANTLY for almost 10 years, which sadly I ultimately have been. I am in debt and although coming out and admitting it to people who care about me there are still secrets I cannot share regarding money owed out etc. I have decimated my credit score, have registered with almost every bookmaker going and I have closed multiple bank accounts over the years that were absolutely littered with betting transactions. I recently found an old statement from 2012 and it was such a surreal situation thinking what age I was back then and yet my bank statements look identical to this day.
I have not posted this for sympathy or anything like that the main reason for posting today is mainly to help other people and for closure. I always take everything with a pinch of salt online like most do but believe me when I say I have experienced every aspect of gambling. The lowest lows of losing, the highest highs of winning big(lucky), the thrill of being extremely disciplined and focused on making money consistently, closing accounts and saying never ever again to finally having accounts limited as mentioned previously for winning.
The bottom line when it comes to gambling is you just simply CANNOT win over your life time so why are you doing it? You are essentially paying a direct debit throughout your life to all these different betting companies for a bit of dopamine to be released in your brain. I manged to clear my debt and had about £10,000 saved £5,000 bankroll and was on cloud 9 and look where I am at now. I have £100 in my bank for the essentials and about £10,000 in debt just 3 odd years later. I have carried on for so long to try and re-live the dream I thought I had but the hard hitting reality is even when I was doing well I was constantly fighting against being banned from shops and having accounts online limited and closed. Even when you win you cannot win for long so it is pointless. I am a risk taker at heart and can be very impulsive which for a gambler is a non starter. It will NEVER end well if you have these types of traits as you could do well for months or years being disciplined but one day that IMPULSE will burst through your body and overcome and ruin all your hard work.
This might come across like I am bitter about the situation but I am not. I actually feel a real sense of relief typing this up today, usually when I read these sorts of posts from other users and it is day 1 for them for quitting gambling I skip over it because I think yeah, you will be back at it tomorrow or when you next get money, not very supportive but it is the truth none the less for most I feel.
One thing that is happening right now within the gambling industry is safer gambling adverts especially in the UK. I realised that what they are doing is the same as what sugary food product companies done with regards to their food stuffs being deemed unhealthy they were ultimately asked to remove certain products but instead they turned it round as said they would introduce more healthier, lower sugafat alternatives instead which resulted in just adding more of their products to the market. That is EXACTLY what the gambling firms are doing just now they have been told about the harm it is doing and have been told to essentially lower the amount of exposure to children/adults alike with these adverts and their response is not to reduce the amount but to introduce safer gambling when the fun stops, stop adverts just increasing the amount of times their logo appears on your screen through multiple more adverts.
Anyway, I would like to think at least one person reads this and it makes them think twice. Maybe somebody who is 18 and has just began gambling or maybe somebody who is similar ages to myself or even older who can relate to my experience in anyway.
If you have managed to read all of this then well done, If I came across a post browsing on this after a loss and seen it was this length I would not bother, I would skip to the end like my impulsive personality would command me to do which is a little reminder as to why I am posting this in the first place being a compulsive and impatience gambler.
To end on a positive note my gambling journey comes to an end today. I am 27 years old and have been at it from 17 and enough is ultimately enough for me. My new goal has been laid out prior to writing this in regards to avoiding temptation, paying off what I owe and what to do with my wages going forward.
I wish anybody reading this who is struggling all the best and if you have any intention to quit and have stumbled across this sub-reddit then it is time to quit or else you would not be here and you know it. As for anybody who reads through this and still gambles themselves then maybe take a look at what you are doing and if you can honestly look yourself in the mirror and admit you have no problem then great and good luck with what you are doing.
If you want to maybe ask more about my situation in relation to your own, have any questions or are just looking for somebody to listen to your story then feel free to message me.
Thanks,
LD.
submitted by LetniyDozihdik to problemgambling [link] [comments]

A Paladin's Final Sacrifice

This is one of my favorite stories from my time playing DnD, primarily because it emphasizes every player having a fully developed character arc, both in and out of character.
TL;DR: An unexpected shot in the dark becomes one of the greatest RP moments in my life.
The setting: A second run through of Curse of Strahd. Be warned there are technically spoilers for that campaign I guess.
The characters of our story (though not their player names) are as follows.
Current DM: The DM of this adventure
Luke: A lazy, self-centered Air Genasi Swashbuckler Rogue, also DM of our last run of Curse of Strahd
Garrett: A Half-Elf Wild Magic Sorcerer with a gambling addiction
Me: A fallen Aasimar Oath of Redemption Paladin that has fallen from grace.
A bit of backstory on this one. Our group had a great time with the first run of Curse of Strahd that Luke did for us, so much so that we wanted to do it again. Luckily, current DM wanted to run Curse of Strahd himself as DM, and through a few days of brainstorming we ended up coming to the idea of doing a continuation of the story. This would allow us to run the module again, but with a LOT of tweaks to characters and stories, such as our characters from the previous run being added as NPCs. The other thing we decided on was everyone had to write a character for the other players. So the three PCs and the DM created three characters each, one for each player complete with backstory. Each player was then given the race and class of the characters created, and they would then choose which one they wanted to try without knowing anything else. A weird idea I know, but it was fun. The unused characters got tossed into a stack as backups if anyone happened to die so you could just be added back into the game without much of a break in the session. They didn't get used luckily, but we were prepared.
I gave the brief description of the characters we ended up with, but I wanna go more in-depth on them here. I got an aasimar paladin who was originally a great warrior in mount celeste. But my greatness was short lived as I fell into the vices of fighting for sport, and my martial prowess allowed me to rise in the ranks of an arena on the material plane. I feared my position would be lost so I resulted to cheating to ensure my victory, which was quickly revealed. I was cast from mount celeste, and had to redeem myself if I wished to ever return. Thus started my Oath. Now I understand that the book says an Oath of Redemption means you firmly believe anyone can be redeemed no matter how evil, but I thought that someone who believed they were the lowest of scum for what they had done would follow such a path. If they could be redeemed, then certainly anyone could.
Luke's player chose the character I made for him, an air genasi rogue. The thing with this guy was that he did his absolute best to never really put in effort on anything. The only time he would act is if his life depended on it, so outside of deadly situations he would just let the other party members deal with the problem. If they asked him to do something, he would often complain that they're more than capable of it themselves, but would quickly relent as the party got frustrated with his actions. He barely even walked anywhere since, as an air genasi, he could levitate at will so he would just lazily drift around the place. He was a bit of a moocher, a leech, simply finding a group of relatively strong looking people and sticking to them so he could do the least work while still getting paid. That wasn't to say he didn't have his own goals. He sought to be famous, and to have people be grateful for the things he did. It's just that he was bad at actually getting things done in the first place. This fit his real world personality very well, as Luke's player himself is extremely lazy and he often admits to this being the case.
Garrett's player also picked the character I made, a half-elf sorcerer. Garrett's player tended to play characters with more simple backstories that seem complicated until you read through them and realize that it boils down to some core basic ideas. His character was a problem gambler. Anytime there was an option to roll the dice and take a chance he would take it. The character frequented betting rings and casinos, and his above average luck kept him in the running until he got on the wrong side of the owners. He got framed for cheating and so the casino bosses, known for not being subtle, were holding his sister hostage until he returned with enough money to pay them back for all of his "winnings".
This party of fools was to be the grand heroes of this adventure, and hoo boy did it not go well.
The DM is relatively new to running games, and considering this I have to say he did a damn good job of pretty much rebuilding the world of Curse of Strahd from scratch. What he didn't have a good handle of was balancing encounters and traps mid combat, especially when dealing with a group whose luck was abysmal like ours was the first few sessions. We skipped the death house and decided to just start off at level 3. The very first combat encounter, before we even get into the land of Barovia, is a choldrith (CR 3) and two zombies (CR 1/4). This was made as a means of us getting used to our characters. We nearly get TPK'd just because we can't hit anything to save our lives, literally, and the choldrith manages to crit on me twice in a row downing me instantly.
This particular encounter sets the tone for almost every encounter afterwards. I could tell the DM was constantly having to fudge rolls and pull punches just to avoid a TPK nearly every step of the way just because our dice rolls wouldn't allow us to have fun. It was frustrating, and that frustration was made well known during the inter-character banter. The rogue would berate me for not managing to land my attack, the sorcerer would shout for the rogue to get off his lazy ass and help for once. Meanwhile I feel like a substitute teacher trying to keep two unruly kids in check and am starting to slowly lose it. At one point I snapped because both in and out of character I'd had enough of an NPCs antics nearly getting us killed.
There's a girl that goes missing from this caravan and you find her drowning in a lake. In our encounter there's a monster down there and she's protected by some trinket she has. However, because of her constant panicking and squirming we can't manage to get her out of the lake successfully. Eventually we just resort to casting sleep on her so she stays still long enough for us to get out before we're murdered. When she wakes up she continues to sob, and I literally shout at her because she put not just herself but also those sent to rescue her in danger. This just made her cry more, so I just cast sleep again and we delivered her back to the caravan.
Eventually though, as we found out what was going on in this world and began to understand who Strahd was, we started to band together as the group of unlikely heroes this world needed. We went through a lot of perils, a lot of problems, and a LOT of near-death experiences. We opened up to each other, learned the reasons behind each other's actions, and came to find that we had much in common and a reason worth fighting for. This led to the all important result of actually supporting each other in combat. We started to feel like a team who watched each other's backs.
I'm gonna skip ahead here and move more towards the end of the campaign. A lot of stuff happens but most of it isn't super necessary and is really just filler.
Some spoilers ahead for the Curse of Strahd module, though the story itself is modified quite a bit.
So by this point we've figured out that Strahd's curse is that he is in essence trapped in this world, constantly reliving his own nightmare for killing his brother and watching his love die by jumping from his castle. Even when he is killed and his entire realm is destroyed, it just reforms again some time later forcing everyone within it to return to their imprisoned life. Strahd is forced to come back time and time again, and at this point it has started to drive him mad. In our story he's been doing this for several thousand years, trying desperately to find a timeline in which Tatiana, the girl that jumped, loves him again.
At this point, the DM does something that I wasn't expecting. We know the madness that Strahd suffers and we've seen what kind of monster he is. He killed more than a dozen children right in front of us while we were helpless to stop him, he's trumped and taunted us at nearly every turn. He has harassed us, and killed NPCs we actually gave a crap about to the point where it would have been justified for any player to just try and kill the guy on sight. And so without any fanfare, Strahd shows up in front of us and invites us to dinner in his castle. He promises our safety, but more importantly, if we did not accept he would attempt to kill us. We were already beaten down pretty hard from a reworked amber temple, and I as the face of the party made the executive decision of "Screw it, having dinner with the BBEG right now sounds like the thing that might not result in our death".
We hop into his cart, and on the way there each of us PCs receive a private message in discord from the DM. I still have that message so I can share it verbatim.
“I have watched you for a long time. I know why you have come here, and what you seek to do. Know that it won’t be easy. I am ancient. I am the land. Barovia is my home, my domain. The Dark Powers keep me here and they keep a tally. Should you try to kill me, I will only return stronger to seek my vengeance against you, as I have done for so many others before you. I have seen your power grow over time. First, a matchstick; now, a roaring fire. But your quest, even in its success, is doomed to failure. Your victory will be short lived. Instead, I offer you something greater. Take a measure of my power and join me, such that we can bring about a new era to this land. You need only drink the White Wine to give your approval and I shall infuse you with my power.”
I don't know what the other players got, but that's what was sent to me. We all got something different.
At this point I had a lot to think about. I thought about everything we'd gone through as a group. I thought about the challenges we'd weathered together. One small part of me wanted to see this thing through to the end, and hope that his warning was just a bluff. But I knew better. My paladin knew better. Strahd never once lied to us, why would he start now? If he's telling the truth, then what's the point of going through all this hell if its just going to end in disappointment and death while the cycle continues? Is giving up all hope and joining the dark side really the best option? I as a player fought with this in my head for a long time, but eventually I came to a decision and formulated a plan.
I picked the white wine. And I was the only one at dinner who had chosen white wine.
Afterwards, Strahd asked to speak with me privately, and this visibly raised a lot of suspicion with the other party members. The DM and I moved to a private area where the other players wouldn't hear the ensuing talks. While Strahd and I wandered through the halls of his castle our conversation went as such.
Strahd: "So, you wish to take up my offer and rule this land by my side?"
Me: "No, not exactly. I'm going to level with you for a moment Strahd. I generally think I've figured out this whole issue. You screwed up, killed Sergei, and now you're stuck here forced to relive the same thing over and over as you try desperately to get what you want. But... As much as I know you don't want to hear it, it's not going to happen."
Strahd's visage visibly darkens, and an angry snarl rings out from him.
Me: "However, I am willing to help you on my own terms."
Strahd: "Which are?"
Me: "Your curse prevents you from leaving, prevents you from dying, and is the one thing that is keeping you and all these people in Barovia locked in this eternal nightmare. If it means releasing you from this hell hole of a dimension and finally giving you some peace, I'm willing to take on the mantle of your curse. I get it. No one likes to hear about their past mistakes, especially me. But its something we've all got to face. No one is above redemption Strahd. Not even you."
Strahd falls silent for awhile as the DM considers what I've just said. I can tell he wasn't prepared for something like this, but the idea has piqued his interest.
Strahd: "Doing this will allow you to take control of this realm, and will result in my death. Among this land and its people, you will learn everything I have done, good and bad. Every single atrocity that I am responsible for. My magical secrets and dark memories, all yours to live with for eternity. Even knowing this burden, one that would bring most men to their knees, would you still continue on with this path?"
Me: "Strahd, you've been watching us since we got here. You know me. You know what I've been through, you know what I've done, and you know what I want to do. I believe you've suffered enough, and even you deserve to rest. I get that some people don't like you, hell some people believe you deserve even worse than what you're currently getting. But forever is a long ass time as I'm sure you know. My hope is that by releasing you from this curse and taking on the burden I can find my own redemption some day."
Strahd thinks on this for a moment, and I'm actually surprised to see something resembling a genuine smile cross his lips.
And so with the entire party present, Strahd performed a ceremonial ritual in which I as a willing recipient took on the mantle of his curse. I became the new Strahd, as he withered away into dust. In that brief flash I watched as families were slaughtered, homes were torched, terrible creatures were risen from the shadows and hundreds of people fell into despair. I watched this cycle again and again, thousands of years passed through my mind in an instant. It was daunting, terrifying, and had I not passed a wisdom save it could have well and truly broken my character's spirit. But despite all this horror, I gleaned one important piece of information.
The heart of the castle. As part of our DM's story rewrite, he made the heart incredibly important as it is where Strahd's will is entombed and where the curse is focused. We as a group have 1 in-game hour before the curse takes hold entirely and I essentially become Strahd reborn, with all the same mannerisms. If within that time we can destroy the heart in the tower, it will trigger a collapse event. After destroying the heart it will create a black hole portal to a void realm. We'll have enough time to escape, but the void will consume the entire demiplane, erasing everything including Strahd's lingering will and all of the people causing their souls to be lost forever. But there's a catch.
If one person's soul of a non-evil alignment of their own free will is swapped with his, the one sacrificing themselves is lost to the void forever, but everyone and everything can escape safely. The portal closes and cannot be found. Barovia will then be sent to a nearby coast town as a new island about 3 miles away from civilization. The one who commits to this sacrifice freely is left alone for all eternity in the infinite void, with nothing but their own thoughts and memories to keep them company. No means exist for this person to escape, and they are lost forever beyond saving. And if they were to do this while carrying the mantle of Strahd's curse, that meant the curse is locked away forever along with them, forever breaking the cycle.
This is all told to me in private, and so I turn to my close friends and allies and tell them I have a way to fix all of this. We have to get to the heart in the tower and destroy it. Doing so will cause the realm to fall apart and release everyone trapped here including us. Garrett and Luke are both down for this, and we set off one final time, determined to save this world.
The fight was treacherous, but through sheer willpower and a bit of wild magic luck we manage to come out on top. The heart shatters, and a black hole begins to steadily grow and consume anything it touches. I shout to the others to get to safety which they promptly start fleeing from the danger. It's at this point the rogue notices that I'm not following. Instead I'm standing there, facing this black void alone. He calls out to me that I need to get the hell out of there and asks what I'm doing. I describe that my character turns his head back solemnly with a contented smile.
"Thank you, my friends. Luke, keep up the good work. And Garrett? Say hello to your sister for me. Goodbye."
And with that, I threw myself into this void, never to be seen again.
The other players were stunned by this as they listened to the DM detail the sudden collapse of the demiplane as it was shifted into another world entirely. Luke, being played by someone who was a big fan of anime tropes, did the sad/angry shout into the emptiness about my character being a moron and how there had to have been a better way. Garrett had a hard time thinking of something to say about this, more focused on trying to not cry.
The two of them go on about their lives, accomplishing the goals that had originally sent them on this path. But by the time it was all over their memory of me had faded significantly. That didn't stop them from trying to find some way of honoring my character though. A bronze plaque sits up in the ruins of the castle where I was last seen.
"Here lies the memory of a stalwart ally and a close friend. May he find the redemption he seeks."
Afterwards, we all concluded that despite a lot of rough patches throughout the entire campaign, the ending was satisfying to each of us in our own ways. It was a fantastic and wild ride, and one of the only times I've ever had a character death that I was well and truly happy about.
submitted by Flashpoint11 to CritCrab [link] [comments]

Rock Bottom - trying to cope.

Please people, NEVER EVER EVER BET ON CREDIT. Here’s my story:
So last year I got into sports gambling. This is where I have a BIG PROBLEM STARTING. Little Bit of Baseball, Then some NFL and I was doing okay, feeling good. New hobby, fun so far. I’m placing bets on a site with a bookie. I then started losing every week, my initial limit was $500 a week with the bookie.
Starting in January I got in really deep, was calling in to raise my credit limit with the bookie and everything. I always paid very reliably so eventually he let me blow up to $3,000 in a week. Every week was bad.
After about 6 weeks I’m getting very aggravated and scared. I’ve lost probably $20k+ at this point in cash. So I panic and keep chasing it. I lose more and more. So of course when I’m chasing losses and there isn’t a sporting event on I get desperate and go to his online casino. I start playing slots like a mad man and then card games and whatever I can find. Losing more and more. I’m in way too deep at this point. It gets to the point I’m blowing my credit line with the bookie every week within the first two days of the week.
Finally I hit him one week for like $3k. What a false confidence that turned into. Was back to losing again and again and again!!
COVID-19 hits..... no sports. What a blessing for my gambling problem. I know it’s out of hand and I’m looking forward to a forced break. WELL, lucky me I remembered the bookie casino must still be operational. What a Junkie I am. I proceed to play and lose over and over and over. I finally decide I can’t win and it must be rigged somehow. The cards were bad, everything was bad. So I decide to quit. That was three weeks ago...... I just yesterday called the bookie and told him I’m done. I’m tapped. Count me out, close my line of credit.
I’m now awaiting next week when I make my final payment to him of $3k on Friday and walk away. It’s so hard. So so hard but I’m broken, battered, destroyed. I have no other option or I will be homeless and hungry.
I haven’t paid my rent or utility bills this month yet. I went from a savings account of $50k to now $30k in debt. I’m miserable. Just miserable. I feel taken, abused, mistreated and ashamed. I’m now sitting in limbo waiting for my next paycheck so I can pay him and then I’m going to have to wait a week after that to start paying bills and catching up. I’m crushed.
The hard part is sitting here with nothing to do but think about what I’ve done to myself. All my savings gone, all the debt I have to pay off now. I’m ruined. Contemplating what would have happened if I had dug deeper. Feeling hopeless and defeated. No matter who I talk to or hang around I feel alone.
I know I would have never just spent this money, it wasn’t real to me because I was betting on credit. This is the worst I have EVER felt about myself by a long shot. I wish this on nobody. I am posting this out of the need to share and get it off my chest. Trying to cope with loss and having to live with myself.
submitted by SnooWords5041 to GamblingAddiction [link] [comments]

Up and down 6 months

I’ve been reading posts on here for the last couple months and I wanted to share my story as well. It’s been hard to really share with anyone, but I know that it will help people.
Always loved sports, I got into gambling starting in December, I loved hitting college basketball and the nba spreads...even got into MMA and made good money... won everything I lost in January and more on a card....then it started to unravel. I raised my credit limit to above my weekly paycheck, I figured I was making so much doing that that I could even have a second book, I thought I could DOUBLE my money! I then didn’t have a winning week for what felt like months no matter how many bets I won I would always self destruct, it got to a point where I’d care more about my parlays than my social life, the gym, anything I really cared about. should of realized it was bad when I owed both books and lost money on a trip to AC, all in the same weekend. I lost my motivation, I was selling my valuebles to pay off these debts...I couldn’t stop myself, I was playing blackjack on my breaks, live betting during work, checking the scores non stop, I must of lost close to 10 grand.... whole months worth of pay gone because of this disease.
I knew I hit rock bottom when I started betting on esports in late March after most sports had shut down. It crushed me, I wasn’t sure what was wrong with me? Why would I keep doing this? Why am I throwing all my hard work out the window? I’d work so hard to save my money and I literally threw it away when there weren’t real sports to bet on...losing hundreds on video games sickened me but I still did it. Being given an opportunity to save up money or invest it and I blew it all gambling? I was at an all time low, dark dark thoughts entered my head more frequently because I felt like I was throwing my potential away, I felt like I couldn’t do anything right because I crippled by this addiction. Realizing I had an opportunity to use that money to make my life better, and missing out is a feeling I may never get over for as long as I live.
I then stumbled upon this thread and read the stories of others and knew that I wasn’t alone in this fight. The power of people coming here to tell there stories moved me to try and change for the better, It takes a lot to face your problems head on, and so many of these helped me to make a difference in my life. I wanted to share mine to try and help someone else make the decision to try and make that change. I had a few tiny relapses but the days of me throwing away my paycheck are OVER, I haven’t lost money gambling since mid April and while it’s not much I am very proud of myself. Though I will probably bet a little bit when sports come back, I know my journey to battle addiction is far from over and my next step is to try and watch sports without having money on the game.
Thank you to the brave souls who have put there stories out there, our journey to beat this may never end, but you’re never alone in this battle, you helped me and I will always be thankful for this thread.
submitted by Muffin_Cool to problemgambling [link] [comments]

Gambling got me in a huge mess, and I need some advice (21 years old)

Hello dear community,
I've been reading this subreddit for quite some time now, and I believe it's the time I tell my story and ask for a little bid of advice. I'm 21 years old and I'm a student. My losses are not as big compared to the ones suffered by other members of this subreddit, but they are quite major for me, because I'm supported financially by my parents and have no personal income. I won around 2.000 pounds back in December from sports betting. Being happy about it, I started increasing my daily expenses, before I even withdrew that amount. The problem is by the time I tried to withdraw my money, I have already affected my budget in a major way. The real problem? I was never able to withdrew it. I'm living in UK for my studies, but my betting account was registered for my native country (I'm an international student). The betting agency "froze" my betting account because of that, and I was never able to cash it out.
You can probably realise how the story unfolded from this point on. The yearly budget I was receiving from my parents was already in a bad shape when I tried to withdraw the money, and I've spent the rest of it on gambling, trying to recover the losses. Of course it didn't work out, and to make things worse I've also collected debts along the way that are pilling up now. I want to ask you if you believe that I should come clean about it with my parents? They can help me get out of this, but I'm terribly scared of destroying my relationship with them and being a big disappointment for them, because of my gambling addiction. I'm a pretty good student and I don't want this to continue to affect my studies, because I'm very passionate in regards to my degree. But the past 6 months have been so stressful that I just want this whole problem to end, and I can only see ending it by talking to my parents. I'm ready to face their anger, I just don't want this to affect my relationship with them long-term, because I value it a lot. I also don't have any kind of viable explanations for this problem, besides the fact that I fell into a gambling addiction. And I know that this reason is going to be a very bad one for them. Do you think I should them? I don't see any other way around this. If anyone had similar experiences in their personal life, I would be very happy to hear about them. Anything helps.
I'm sorry if my problems do not seem as big as the ones that other members of this subreddit faced. I'm 21, at the beginning of the road basically and have always been financially supported by amazing and understanding parents. Maybe I'm panicking too much, but for me this really seems to be a very big problem.
At this point, I'm not very worried about falling into a gambling addiction again in the future, because for the past few months I've only used it to try and get out of my current situation. I hope I don't lie to myself about this, but I don't see myself gambling once this whole situation settles down.
submitted by Blancone2020 to problemgambling [link] [comments]

Win, Win, Win then Lose Everything *need advice*

Hey everyone, I’ve been using this reddit for a while, mainly to make myself feel better by hearing about others similar (or in many cases, very much worse situations). I’ll give you a short background on myself and gambling;
Since I was about 5 years old I’ve been exposed to gambling. My father bet, my family bet, and anyone close to me gambled. I always knew they lost money but for me it seemed different. After I got older around 16-17 I started gambling on fantasy football leagues. $20 here and $20 there for the potential return of hundreds was amazing. I won a few of those and even won my freshman year of college March madness tournament that raked in $500+! Soon after this I found a bookie that offered online wagering. I won some and loss some, but my weeks never ended with winning or losing more than $200. One week I even won $900 betting NBA, NHL, and NFL was my speciality (I’m a favorites whore to say the least lol) On top of the world and thinking I knew what I was doing I started to increase my wager size. Soon after I realized that my EV (expected value) became negative placing sports wagers and I turned 21 with about a clean slate and $4K saved up. Good summer job that raked in nearly $12k last summer and then I started to go to the casinos...
While I had everything under control and never lost more than $400 in a night and won as much as $1200 in my first night gambling at Atlantic City, I still felt positive that I could beat the house. I knew I loved gambling but never admitted I had a problem. I was winning money for Christ’s sake, but I. Was. Addicted.
Over the last 9 months I was going to the casino 5-6 nights a week. I thought I had things under control by cashing out when I hit my goal $200/300/400 and trying to leave when I would lose my cash I brought with me (usually max $350) BUT I COULDNT ACCEPT A LOSS. I’d say about 75% of nights I would cash out up my goal, but on bad nights...I’d hit the ATM 3 or 4 times until my withdrawal limit of $1000 was reached that night. Going home pissed off and sad was the worst but it made me appreciate winning so much more..and I always seemed to make it back. One night I lost $950 and the following week I won 6 nights in a row pocketing more than $2000. The casino I regularly used told me I was up close to $7000 on their rewards system since I was using them, and I’ve been to casinos across NY, WV, and even PA never being down or up more than $500, but I did have my go to casino which had me UP.
Starting in January things took a turn for the absolute worst. I lost $2500 in 2 weeks at my favorite casino and resorted back to online gambling. I started to win $1000+ a week and some weeks I would lose $1200+ but I still had money in my bank to keep me afloat. A few bad weeks and I started really stressing. My savings hit about $3000 and I graduated college a year ago. Student loans started to hit and my gambling to pay these off got more severe. I started making stupid plays and betting more than anyone should ever have to on basketball lines, tennis sets, and even volleyball. My bank account hit $1500 from the $15k I had less than 9 months prior (rent, student loans, and other expenses was what I attributed it to, but I know I’d have a lot more $ if I didn’t gamble)
Covid-19 quarantine hits and there are no casinos, no sports, and nothing to gamble on. I start going stir crazy as I am 100% addicted. Fanduel and DraftKings offer casino Promotions with their RNG platforms!?
I make my deposits and start winning instantly. $1000 here and $1800 on one of my best nights. I now have $4500 in my bank and can finally relax, right?? No. I start increasing my bets and the random number generator (RNG) turns into a rigged number generator. I start depositing more and more to try and make back the money I had at one point and the system keeps taking my money. One night I deposited $1600 into my account and lost it all. A couple weeks later and trying to stop gambling here and there, but only being successful for 5-6 days at a time before relapsing, I need help.
I want to stop gambling but I feel like that is who I am. I no longer have the funds to gamble and my bank account is at $1000 that I can’t touch. I have 2 jobs right now bringing in close to $2500 a month. I just want to be happy and enjoy life again without the urges to gamble but it’s too accessible. Gambling is a losing hobby, you lose money, friends, relationships, but most importantly your mind. Where do I go from here? How do I stop gambling for longer than a week? What’s life like on the other side of gambling? ...these are questions I ponder everyday. Thanks for reading and I wanted to thank you all for sharing your stories.
submitted by TheHouseAlwaysWinz to problemgambling [link] [comments]

Posting the script to a Simpsons episode everyday till I get bored or forget. Day 12. S1, ep12

Hey, kids!
Who do you love?
With all our hearts!
What would you do if I went off the air?
We'd kill ourselves!
What's that, Sideshow Bob?
This is Brittany and today's her birthday?
Well, happy birthday, Brittany!
How do you want to celebrate? Do you want me to sing you a birthday song?
Or do you want me to shoot Sideshow Bob out of a cannon?
The cannon. The cannon.
Sorry, Sideshow Bob,
but it's her special birthday wish!
You're doomed, Sideshow Bob.
I know we haven't had much luck shooting you out of this cannon,
but maybe that's because we haven't used enough...
gunpowder!
Brittany, do the honors.
Don't blame me.
I didn't do it.
Comedy, thy name is Krusty.
Hey, kids, it's time for Itchy and Scratchy!
They fight, they bite They bite and fight and bite
Fight, fight, fight Bite, bite, bite
The Itchy and Scratchy Show
Oh, my! All this senseless violence.
If cartoons were meant for adults, they'd put them on in prime time.
Y'ello.
Hello, Homie. I was hoping you could pick up...
a half-gallon of premium ice cream on your way home from work.
Ooh, premium-- Wait a minute. Why?
Patty and Selma are coming over to show us slides from their trip to the Yucatan.
Doh!
My sisters are here.
Oh, eight carousels! We're in for a real treat.
Hello, steady customer. How are you this evening, sir?
How ya doin', Apu?
Mmm, chocolate.
Ooh, double chocolate.
New flavor-- triple chocolate!
Perhaps a little something for the trip back to the cash register.
What's the matter, sir?
Never have I seen you look so unhappy while purchasing such a large quantity of ice cream.
The reason I look unhappy is that tonight...
I have to see a slideshow starring my wife's sisters.
Or as I call 'em, the Gruesome Twosome.
Hand over all your money in a paper bag.
Yes, yes. I know the procedure for armed robbery.
I do work in a convenience store, you know.
You can emerge now from my chips.
The opportunity to prove yourself a hero is long gone.
And he had a big nose.
No, bigger. And big red hair that came out to--
It's the guy from TV!
My kid's hero, Cruddy, Crummy-- Krusty the Clown!
Ahh.
Hey, hey, what's goin' on here?
Krusty the Clown, you're under arrest for armed robbery.
You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say--
Send in the clowns.
So, Simpson, which one is it?
Well, if the crime is making me laugh, they're all guilty!
Simpson.
And this is all the mail that awaited us upon our return.
And this is Selma...
dropping of four vacation film to be developed.
Thus concludes our Mexican odyssey.
Hmm. Very thorough.
I'm home, everybody!
-Oh, goody gumdrops. -You missed the whole slide show, Homer.
Oh, fantastic. Marge, you're never gonna believe what happened.
I was down at the Kwik-E-Mart minding my own business when-- Ooh, ooh, ooh, the news!
Springfield's number one news team...
with our Emmy Award-winning anchorman Kent Brockman,
Good evening, I'm Scott Christian. Kent Brockman is off tonight.
Why did the clown cross the road? To rob a Kwik-E-Mart.
The news story behind that enigmatic half-joke right after this commercial message.
Wait a minute. Bart, you know that guy on your lunch box?
Oh, you mean, Krusty the Clown?
He's my idol. I've based my whole life on Krusty's teachings.
after a daring twilight robbery of a local Kwik-E-Mart.
Earlier this evening, the Springfield SWAT team...
apprehended the TV clown, who appears on a rival station...
opposite our own Emmy Award-winning Hobo Hank.
And just in, actual footage of the crime...
taken with the Kwik-E-Mart security camera.
The reason I look unhappy is that tonight I have to see...
a slide show starring my wife's sisters.
Or as I call 'em, the Gruesome Twosome.
I know it looks very bad, honey. Who knows,
maybe it'll turn out he was innocent all along.
Earth to Marge. Earth to Marge.
I was there. The clown is G-I-L-L-T-Y.
Buy my cereal.
Buy my cereal.
I didn't do it!
Oh, I wish I could believe you.
Good evening, again, Springfield. Krusty the Clown,
the beloved idol of countless tots,
now nothing more than a common, alleged criminal.
His trial, which begins tomorrow, has taken center ring in a national media circus...
as children of all ages from eight to 80...
hang on each new development like so many Romanian trapeze artists.
From his humble beginnings as a street mime in Tupelo, Mississippi,
Krusty clowned his way to the top of a personal mini-empire...
with dozens of endorsements, including his own line of pork products.
This may have led to one of television's best-loved bloopers--
Krusty's near-fatal, on-the-air heart attack in 1986.
Wasn't that a great Itchy and Scratchy cartoon, kids?
Well, we've got another one coming right up.
But first, I've got a hankerin'...
for some pork products.
Mmm. Look.
Plump succulent sausage, honey-smoked bacon and glistening, sizzling--
I'm dying. I'm dying.
But a quick triple bypass and a pacemaker later, Krusty bounced back.
However, he was a changed clown.
Where his show had been condemned by parents and educators alike...
as simpleminded TV mayhem,
this new Krusty devoted a small portion of every show...
to stamping out illiteracy in today's anything-for-a-thrill youth.
Give a hoot. Read a book.
Krusty's arrest has sent shockwaves through Springfield, packing its churches,
synagogues and mosques with disillusioned citizeny from all walks of life.
I urge every halfway decent member of our community...
to gather up all merchandise that bears the likeness of Krusty,
that clown prince of corruption,
and join me in a public burning!
So, is Krusty the Clown about to trade in his baggy pants...
for the relatively snug uniform of Springfield Penitentiary?
We'll find out tomorrow when his trial begins.
Will you plead insanity?
Look at him. His clothes are so drab.
His face is so flesh-colored and sad.
And his feet, they're so small.
Say it ain't so, Krusty.
My client has no comment at this time.
I didn't do it.
Oh.
I mean, not guilty. Opening night jitters, Your Honor.
I would like to call to the stand, Homer J.Simpson.
Don't do it, Dad. Please don't do it.
Sorry, son. You'll understand one day.
He's innocent, I tell you. Krusty would never do something like that.
Oh, come on, Dad. You got to listen to me.
Sorry, pal.
Doh!
Mr. Simpson, was that you taking that cowardly dive...
into that display of heavily-salted snack treats?
Okay.
Aaah!
pointed to... Krusty the Clown.
These toys are just adorable.
Who'd have guessed they were inspired by an insane criminal genius?
But, Dad, you're giving in to mob mentality.
No, I'm not! I'm hopping on the bandwagon.
Now, come on, son. Get with the winning team.
Hey, right here! Krusty souvenirs! Buy 'em and burn 'em!
Good people,
I'm so happy you're all here tonight.
But please, just a few words of caution.
Now, we are going to set this pile of evil ablaze,
but because these are children's toys, the fire will spread quickly.
So, please stand back, and try not to inhale the toxic fumes.
Ooh!
Krusty, would you please turn your attention to Exhibit B.
Uh, uh-- Which one do you mean?
The one with the big "B" on it.
No, I can't! I can't read or write! I admit it!
I'm totally illiterate. Now are you happy?
Can it be that the champion of child literacy can't even read himself?
Is it a crime to be illiterate?
All right, all right. See this, Krusty? This is a B.
And this is Exhibit B.
Betting slips-- obtained by this court indicating you have lost...
substantial sums of money on sports gambling.
Is it a crime to bet on sporting events?
We find the defendant, Krusty the Clown...
guilty.
I knew it! This happens to me every time.
My young friends, for years I have been silent...
save for the crude glissandos of this primitive wind instrument.
But now, destiny has thrust me into the center ring.
In the coming weeks, you will notice some rather sweeping changes in our program.
Please do not be alarmed.
Itchy and Scratchy will still have a home here.
But we will also learn about nutrition, self-esteem, etiquette...
I'm watching Sideshow Bob. He's a lot less patronizing than Krusty used to be.
Face the facts. All those hours we spent staring at Krusty, we were staring at a crook.
Look, Lisa. I know Krusty's innocent.
Don't ask me why. It's just a feeling I have.
I think I can prove Krusty's innocent, but I need your help.
You're smarter than me.
Oh, oh. Okay, okay.
Don't try anything funny. I'm armed to the teeth.
Bart, look, over here on the microwave.
So, I don't have a pacemaker.
Come on, Bart. The tape showed that the robber heated up a burrito.
It was after his heart attack...
Wait a minute. Krusty can't read.
Okay! Okay! So the poor guy can't read. Can't we get off his back, already?
No! Don't you get it, Bart?
How could Krusty have been reading a magazine if he can't read?
Hey, hey. This is not a lending library!
If you're not going to buy that thing put it down, or I'll blow your heads off!
Bart, I'm starting to think you're right. Krusty was framed!
But I know someone who would-- Krusty's best friend in the whole world, Sideshow Bob!
"A volley of muskety flamed, thundered, roared."
A profound silence followed,
broken only by the approaching footsteps...
"- of the Third Brigade."
Next week, chapter 35 of The Man in the Iron Mask: "The Death of a Titan."
Well, kids, that's our show for today.
And now, in the words of Mr. Cole Porter.
Evey time we say good-bye
I die a little
Evey time we say good-bye
I wonder why a little
Evey time we say
Good-bye Good-bye.
Great show, Sideshow. Switchboards were jammed. The kids loved it.
Thanks, Ed. I glad we've finally dispelled the myth...
that I'm too uptown for the tots.
And yet, I can't help thinking about poor Krusty.
but I think we'd do well to explore the more upscale market.
For instance, Sideshow Bob limited-edition prints, collector's plates,
Some kids are here to see you, Sideshow Bob. They say it's important.
Ah, well, we can sign these contracts tomorrow.
Certainly. I take great pride in being able to sign my own name.
That's a good one. I gotta tell the wife.
Forgive me. As much as Sideshow Bob would love to chat, he has a show starting.
Here you go-- three tickets. Be my guests.
Hello, children.
Come on, Bart. Go with the flow.
About a zillionth as much as I love Krusty.
Today's show promises to be a marvelous celebration of the human spirit.
But first, I regret to say I see a youngster who looks troubled.
Hmm. Well, perhaps we can shed some light...
on your problem in a new segment exploring preadolescent turmoil.
Bart, I'm reaching out to you.
So, what's on your mind, Bart?
But that doesn't bother me. You see, my sisters and I...
have been doing a little investigating,
and it looks to us like Krusty was framed.
that the thief used the microwave oven at the Kwik-E-Mart.
But Krusty couldn't go near the thing, not with his pacemaker.
Well, you know, Bart. As much as I love Krusty,
he was never one to take doctor's orders too seriously.
Well, maybe, but get this.
Krusty was illiterate, and the guy who robbed the store...
was reading the Springfield Review of Books.
Ah, well, Bart.
The fact is, you don't have to be able to read to enjoy the Springfield Review of Books.
Just look at these amusing caricatures of Gore Vidal and Susan Sontag.
Yeah, I guess those are kind of funny.
Bart, children, this whole sordid affair has been a shock to all of us.
But we must get on with our lives.
Let's try to remember Krusty, not as a hardened criminal,
but as that lovable jester who honked his horn and puttered around in his little car.
Yes, we will never forget that, will we?
Bart, open you heart. I admit I have some mighty big shoes to fill.
Big shoes to fill. Big shoes to fill.
Big shoes to fill. Big shoes to fill.
Big shoes to fill. Big shoes to fill.
Big shoes to fill--
In ancient Greece, there was a school of thought called stoicism.
Wait a minute! You did it!
Krusty didn't rob that store! Sideshow Bob framed him, and I got proof!
Ow! My foot! You lousy, stupid, clumsy--
but he's got little feet like all good-hearted people!
Sideshow Bob really fills his shoes with big ugly feet.
Get off your duffs, boys. Get down to that studio!
Yes, I admit it. I hated him!
His hackneyed shenanigans robbed me of my dignity for years.
I played the buffoon while he squandered a fortune on his vulgar appetites.
That's why I framed Krusty!
And I would have gotten away with it too if it weren't for these meddling kids.
They're people too! They're smarter than you think.
They were smart enough to catch me!
Well, we... made...
a terrible, terrible mistake.
Uh, it won't happen again.
I'm man enough to admit I was wrong, and I'm sorry I fingered you in court.
I sincerely hope that the horrible stories I heard...
about what goes on in prison are exaggerated.
Well, the important thing is that I regain the trust of the children.
But there was one boy who trusted me all along. Bart?
Shh.
submitted by WHT_Spacenut to teenagers [link] [comments]

Explaining BNA: Understanding, Truth and Justification (Warning: the text is longer than the actual series)

I finished BNA yesterday and loved it. I got an urgent need to write something about the show and so I decided to write my interpretation about the main themes and conclusions in episodes 11 and 12 to the dilemmas raised.
Here we are now: I’m glad that I never wanted to be a writer. Christ, over 3000 words. All in all, not an enjoyable work and good part of it was that I'll never have the temptation to do it again.
The quality varies, since I ended writing this at 4 AM hating the fact that I had not gone to sleep hours ago. I make a lot of mistakes when writing English even when I'm not half asleep. On top of that, the text isn't proofread even once, which is the biggest mistake I've done since writing this.
The text from this point onward is written with the assumption that the reader is seen BNA in its entirety, and it will spoil pretty much the whole show.
I start with giving a brief summary of the main duo

The naïve and the hypocrite

Michiru is naïve girl that always makes an effort towards common good, but fails by lack of information (not understanding the whole truth), expects everyone to be same as her and thus is quick to assume that her perspective on a matter is shared by everyone else. This drives her to often force her sense of justice to others.
Shirou is the complete opposite: He knows enough about the truth to know that everyone is different and that humans have done evil. He is a complete pessimist while on the contrary Michiru is an optimist. He fails by using his knowledge as a justifier to judge and punish others becoming a hypocrite. This is also reflected in his name: He has categorized the world to evil and good, black and white, and sees himself as white(=shiro).
At the beginning the biggest flaw of these two is their prejudice. From the first episode Michiru, a good human, gains the meaning of representing “You have no right to judge” to Shirou and Shirou, having a completely different perspective to Animacity and beastmen, becomes the symbol of “try to understand others’ perpectives” to Michiru by the start of second episode.
Next, I’m going to give a very brief summary of the character development in episodes 1-7, since this text is too damn long as it is and I want to focus on the juicier second half dilemma and conclusion.
And so the episodes go:
Episode 2: Michiru’s lack of understanding of Beastmen is emphasized and Shirou learn that Michiru’s intentions are good before getting to know that Michiru really is a human.
Episode 3: The bond of trust between the two gets stronger and Shirou starts his development from being a hypocrite after agreeing that he will not lock Michiru on a warehouse, since he doesn’t want to be connected as being the same as the criminals they captured.
Episode 4: Michiru sees humans from the perspective of beastmen and in the end, decides to not move back to human world (even though gaining the ability to transform into a human form), because she wants to learn more about beastmen and she doesn’t want to go back to being like the naïve people in the party making bad things happen due to their lack of understanding. At the same time, Shirou buries the hatchet with Flip to avoid gang attacking the humans aka. he understands that good outcome is more important than getting the bad people punished.
Episode 5: Funniest episode of the show. Shirou learns through Animacity’s baseball that even when something looks bad on the surface, the essence of the matter can still turn up to be good. However, more than anything the moral of the story is told through Bears’ coach Dante that foreshadows the development of Shirou, when Dante understands that his personal grudge towards baseball is not a reason for him not to let others enjoy baseball: vindictiveness goes against the interest of common good. Michiru learns to love the city. On a side note, great, expressive animation with well executed jokes and the whole episode referencing a certain sports manga & anime classic makes this (along with episodes 11 and 12 + Eizouken’s episode 8) one of my favourite episodes of the year. EDIT: after a quick look back to episode 5 I'm amazed how much foreshadowing the episode had: For example, we have a scene where the public starts to riot at the stadium due being distrust towards the gambling system.
Episode 6: Essential character for the highlight dilemma commented on the show gets introduced and Michiru gets called out for the flaws apparent with her from the start of the show: Michiru goes to denial, but starts her self-improvement for the second half.
Episode 7: Michiru learns from Pinga that humans and beastmen are fundamentally different nullifying the option of beastmen being turned into humans as a valid conclusion. Michiru also learns that there’s also different opinions and perspectives in the world of beastmen.
OH BOY, THE BEST PART IS COMING
In the episodes 8-10, the show turns by its nature less episodic, so I have hard time remembering what happens and in what episode, but since this part builds up a bigger thematical dilemma that only gets resolved at the end of episode 11, I feel it is best to set aside a little the chronological order of the scenes.

THE TRUTH ARC

As Michiru starts aiming to know more about the circumstances of Animacity, the show starts to study more deeply the matter of truth by asking the questions: What is the truth and from what base it is justified to act. Through multiple scenes between Michiru and other characters, the philosophies of other character’s related to the studied questions are told. BNA studies all these approaches to truth and comes to point out a flaw in each of them. The philosophies are:
Mayor: It is best to not act on base of a truth of which you are uncertain on. (Along the lines of what Michiru says to her in rooftop conversation, to what the Mayor comments as being “a perfect” approach)
This philosophy fits to Mayor perfectly as she is the neutral character of the show (with good intentions) and it is easy to see it as the approach to truth a scientist would take. She cooperates with Sylvasta, since the company is willing to make good and she has no proof of Alan having ill intentions: Even though in episode 3 Shirou says out loud that he has doubts about Sylvasta, Mayor does not change her way of treating Alan or the company, since she acts on the base of concrete proof. The flaw of her philosophy is shown in the show with the "evil" side easily making her inactive by feeding her doubt with biased information.
Shirou: You have to see things, feel things for yourself and find answers that convinces you. (Direct quote)
The lone wolf approach. Again, fits the character perfectly, since Shirou bases his stands entirely on first-hand experience. The flaw of this philosophy is shown when right after Michiru gets this advice from Shirou, she sees Nazuna getting into a black car when Michiru has a memory of a similar occasion where Nazuna was kidnapped and decides on that base to “save” Nazuna: It leads to misunderstandings, since you cannot expect to experience the whole truth from first-hand experience: there's a need to trust others and information given by them.
Alan: The truth lies in which you cannot see. (Direct quote)
Perhaps the most important single quote on the show, since it should be remembered every time Alan is on the screen right to the very end. As far as I remember, technically Alan doesn’t say a single lie in the screen: He sure acts with compassion on matters he actually despises, but all what he says is true. He is the perfect villain for this story, since the lies he tells are not based on false information, but by feeding the truth on quantities that form a biased image of the whole matter. This quote also gives some serious 1984 vibes that isn't surprising coming from a show that has Nakashima Kazuki (Kill la Kill among other things) as script writer.
And then we have our dilemma-maker:
Nazuna: A fabricated truth that leads to good outcomes is good enough. (Quite self-explanatory, eh?)
Nazuna lives by this rule on two levels: Firstly, she lies about being a god to bring peace into Animacity with the message of “Be a good beastman”. Secondly, she lies to herself by denying that she is used as a pawn to obtain her dream of becoming an idol. When good results of her actions start to come, BNA raises, on a classic Trigger way, a universal question:
Between a society build on fabricated truth for peace and an honest society having a peace, is the only difference on value the valuation each individual gives to the truth?
Or better put: What is the value of honest society?

Plot before episode 11

When Michiru learns that Nazuna will not stop being Ginrou after learning that Ginrou is real, she gets angry, but after seeing the improvement in Animacity after a god appearing to them, she shows significant character development: She clearly states that she is not part of the cult (Doesn’t share the same opinion as Nazuna), but due Nazuna having good intentions behind it, Michiru supports Nazuna as a friend, since understanding that it’s not right to force own values (valuation of truthfulness) to others.
At the same time, Mayor’s philosophy bites her in the ass, since in the light of new information she is now uncertain about the truth (Beastmen can live in peace together) and thus stops the act (maintaining Animacity). Due his own experiences and valuing less new information coming from other people, Shirou keeps believing that beastmen can live in peace. Since now he doesn’t have the support of the head of the city and is wanted by the police, he becomes desperate to do the right thing for common good and starts to cooperate with people he despises and is willing to act in a way that goes against his own values.
This is the build-up for the big finale

EPISODE 11: THE CONCLUSION TO THE DILEMMA

At idol concert
Wolfman: I kill fox before big reveal
Tanuki *with wolfman’s gun: No don’t kill my friend.
Wolfman: wowwow, ok I won’t kill fox. But no reveal
Tanuki: Lol ok, deal.
Great scene.
The scene slightly improves when Shirou’s and Michiru’s personal flaws, meanings for each other and the themes of the show are added. In the end, we are left with my favourite scene in ages. Shirou’s intention is to kill a person that keeps a fabricated truth alive and justifies it with the greater good. On this matter, everything goes according to the plan: Gun is pointed at a person that intends to keep a fabricated truth alive and justifies it with the greater good. Only difference is that behind that gun is a face that has the symbolistic meaning of “You have no right to judge” and the situation calls out Shirou’s hypocrisy. At the same time for Michiru, the symbol of “try to understand beastmen’s perspective” and the beastman she though she knew the best is acting totally against his own values, so she breaks down crying due the frustration of the feeling of never getting to understand others. I love how the surreal scene with Michiru pointing a gun towards Shirou is made even more surreal with pretty blue lights waving from one side to another while an upbeat song plays on the background.
At the end of the scene, Shirou tells about upcoming beastmen’s shock of being tricked by someone they believe in. Michiru decides to trust Shirou on this and in return Shirou trusts that Michiru can keep Nazuna from confessing. After this, Shirou gets stopped by the Inspector. Shirou says that the city is in danger and that all he really wants is to protect beastmen. Inspector trusts him. At the stadium, Michiru tells Nazuna not to confess and to trust her. Nazuna decides to trust. Can you see a common theme on these couple of minutes about the power of trust? When Boris goes and tells the truth anyways, we go through the nightmare of everyone being filled with anger, city going out of control, Shirou reliving his worst memory and ending up killing Michiru.
And so, Trigger’s answer the questions it had raised earlier:
To be able to have a fabricated truth have power (for good outcomes), there needs to be a wish for knowing the truth, need for having something to trust. A good society based on a lie is unsustainable, since it always coexists with a will to seek the truth and a truth drifting away from good outcomes.
At this point I didn’t care if the last episode would be good, since Trigger and Nakashima hadn’t bottled it with giving a universal question an answer that couldn’t be applied universally - but they really managed to make the last episode good with giving a conclusion to the main duo’s character arcs.

Alan is a mirror

Question time: What shows the truth, but not entirely?... A mirror! I bet you didn’t expect that! A Mirror also shows the person whose looking at it and that is why I felt it was a fitting analogy to Alan.
But let’s track back a little, since we have a topic in our hands thrown by the ending of the 11th episode with the truth having bad outcomes – we have vindictiveness that is also an essential part of Shirou the character. Shirou is also made clear to be the personification of this will for revenge: he has the blood of 1000 rancorous beastmen and leads the pack of Animacity’s angry beastmen with his howling. Serious Nakashima vibes are given from the get go with Shirou getting back to his senses after tasting the blood of his comrade – The spiral of revenge (is that a term in English?) is broken when it’s realised to be hurting the ones close to you, too. Along with the topic of revenge, we are shown the power that comes when sincerely aiming for common good (Slight importance to the whole show’s main message): The “good guys” with a good cause for everyone are helped for the reasons of wish for individual gain (Mink and Flip’s gang) and those who are grateful (Bears towards Nazuna).
But now back to fighting Alan and completing the character arcs of Michiru and Shirou:

Why did Michiru win?

Well she didn’t: Had a critical miss with the mic stand and after that she was a second away from being shot before Shirou saved her.
But she did complete her character development when she found an flaw in Alan that was common for her too at the beginning of the show: She calls out Alan on forcing every beastman to be vaccined turned into a human, understands that this is a decision every beastman should be allowed to make themselves and fights Alan to give every beastmen the freedom to decide.

Why did Shirou win?

Alan reflects Shirou by treating beastmen (hybrids) the same way Shirou treats humans: Full of prejudice. Yet again Shirou watching at Michiru indicates Shirou realizing “You are in no position to judge”: Shirou has a sense of beastmen superiority (right to judge others) justified by the cruelty of humans towards beastmen and Alan justifies the superiority by racial purity. Shirou understands his own hypocrisy before dealing the finishing blow and completes his development from seeing himself as worthy of punishing others to understanding the flaw in separating world to good and evil.
He wins the urge to get a revenge from behalf of the citizens of Nirvasyl and Animacity: In the end after saving Alan he says that he doesn’t want to live with regrets anymore indicating that he did feel regret from what he did after Nirvasyl. The show sends the message that acts of revenge and anger cause regrets and conclusion comes with cutting the endless circle of revenge when on own "turn". With the show already mentioning the concentration camps and World War II earlier in the show as part of beastmen's history and paint Alan as literal nazi, the show emphasizes Shirou's will to revenge by making the act of the target as cruel as possible: By intentionally making the reasoning for revenge as "justified" as possible, the show indicates that its message on revenge is to be interpreted as universal. The message itself isn't that unique as it is the conclusion in great amount of stories that have revenge as a dilemma that needs to be solved, but I believe it was necessary for the show to give this an answer (even an obvious one), since it makes BNA's message "complete" by going through the dilemma of "a truth that justifies punishing" that essentially is dilemma of revenge.

Why did the Alan lose?

Alan lost by not living by the moral he gave to Michiru at the Sylvastar Pharmaceutics: Truth lies in which you cannot see. Alan based purebreds and his own superiority on being different from other beastmen, giving the example of being above Nirvasyl syndrome. However, the fact that he didn’t know any instance of purebred having Nirvasyl syndrome didn’t mean that the truth would be that purebreds are above Nirvasyl syndrome. When the syndrome started for him, he lost the thing he had build on his sense of superiority.
At the same time, the flaw of his philosophy is pointed: Alan needed to fall by being betrayed by something he thought he knew, since a person with the worldview of "Truth lies in which you cannot see" should be an eternal scepticist and never think they would know anything. Thinking that the truth is that purebreds are superior beings means that Alan not only felt he was above other species, but also above the rule he has set to the world.

What I think the final message of BNA is
With the Mayor saying in the end that she will invite humans to the city, too, to raise the understanding between the two species, while noting that it will be difficult, I concluded the moral of the story to be along the lines of:
Prejudice is a bad way to take even when your assumptions of others are optimistic; trying to understand others perspective is difficult, but necessary. While being truthful and aiming for good for all doesn’t guarantee success, it is the strongest foundation: The trustworthy and the kind have many friends.
‘Kind’ and ‘friend’ might not be the most fitting words (I blame my English vocabulary!), but it increased the wholesomeness of the message and made me feel warm from the inside so it stays :) I’ll rewatch this show, since there are some bits and pieces that I didn’t manage to form into clear messages on first watch and intend to go deeper into later.

I don't what this is exactly (reasoned opinion?), but I come to the conclusion that I liked a lot what the show had

As I said in the beginning I personally loved this series: Visually it is among the best I’ve seen: the usage of colours was brilliant with being eye candy when at most bland and intensely striking when the show needed it to be dramatic, expressive animation was exactly what to expect from the LWA director Yoshinari and the presence of Imaishi in action scenes really was there and, oh boy, did this show constantly remind the viewer that you, in fact, are watching a Trigger show. The flashy soundtrack really got me to raise the ranking of Mabanua in my personal list of best anime composers around as the OST really dared to go for the spotlight time to time, which is something that has never gone wrong with Trigger shows.
I do prefer the characters of LWA of BNA’s, but that is mostly because of the lack of Akko in BNA. Loving how flawed the “good” characters are in BNA and how this could very well form into a constant trend in Yoshinari-directed works, since Akko would fit well into this cast in that sense. The sad fish from LWA also got his successor in Jackie.
The style with world building and plot managed to hit the right spot for me, since it took the route of being entertaining instead of realistic and too serious and made it personally easy to focus on the most essential thematically and plot wise: Using common tropes such as mafia boss being a family-oriented man, a cult being a mean to control masses, detective looking always bored and being a neapolitan mastiff, the dehumanized terrorists or other killers not actually being sociopaths, but humane people with concerns based on reality and only desperate ways to get their cause proceeded, a cool-acting and all-knowing character losing their cool due some specific insecurity they have (Mink), idol industry having the dark side of idols being strictly controlled brands and worshipped idol confessing about their personal life leads to some fans act unpredictably due being upset about their image of a flawless idol being shattered are all so common tropes that I personally did not have any problem understanding that these are not topics the show wants to comment further on and the thematic focus of the show is elsewhere.
I am a fan of Nakashima’s writing style in Gurren Lagann and Kill La Kill and ended up loving it with BNA, too. And as you can expect if you really read that long wall of text, I had no problem with the conclusion and pacing. This show managed to be worthy of my hype and there really isn’t much I hope it had done differently.
EDIT: I expect that very few will see this anymore, but I forgot to mention that I did like how a show that has trust and prejudice as big topics doesn't in the end have many instances of people lying, but is portrayed always in a way that makes the viewer doubt everything what suspicious characters said. Although I feel like this aspect of the show made many here draw some big conspiracies about the end twist and might've lead some people to focus on theme-wise and plot-wise on the wrong things (making them not get that much out of the show in the end), I liked it and it was definitely an aspect of the show that made me appreciate the work even more.
At the end, I want to state the obvious to avoid any misunderstandings: This is my own interpretation of BNA's meaning and my own reasoning on why I like this show. I'm not saying that this is the only correct interpretation to have on the show or only valid opinion about it. Everyone else is (as always) free to think whatever they want about the show.
No TL/DR: I'm shit at summaries. This is proved with this text that was intended to be compact and not a pain in the ass to read.
This is something you can download on your phone and read when you are sitting in a toilet: not for the purpose of entertain yourself with my interpretation of BNA’s themes and meaning, but to find the 0–15 Forrest Gump references that are hidden in the text.
submitted by KoalaNugget to anime [link] [comments]

How to Survive Camping: the town should fear me

I run a private campground. Last time I told you about how my parents got together and how the town has a long and colorful history of doing really dumb things. I think the town is back to normal now, though. Last time I went to the grocery store everyone scurried out of my way and no one made eye contact. They’re afraid of me. As they should be. You see, with the town not daring to oppose me and the sheriff gone… I can do whatever I want. And recently that was a bit of kidnapping. (so if you’re new here, you should really start at the beginning)
One thing I want to get out of the way first, though.
I reached out to Turtle to see how she’s doing. A lot of you are concerned about her while she’s been away for the winter so I figured I’d better just confirm for certain if she’s coming back. She’s fine and she is not coming back. She got in touch with someone local whose land just became an old land and they desperately need help. I think it was a bookstore? Or maybe a bakery? I wasn’t paying that close attention, I’m afraid. Some sort of family-owned business that’s been passed down, much like mine has. Anyway, she’s going to work for them and maybe help them figure out the rules of their new status. I swear it was a bookstore but she also said something about “the fires” and that’s why I keep thinking it’s a bakery…
Maybe it’s both? I don’t know. Whatever. I got my own problems here.
Anyway.
I went to the police station on Monday. The old sheriff stopped by my house to pick me up. This is unusual. I don’t typically interact with the police outside of when they’re called to my campground and even then it’s mere formality. I hand off paperwork and sometimes a body. They don’t ask questions. The handful of times I’ve been inside the station were for surprisingly mundane things - like picking up a camper that had gotten a bit too rowdy and had to sleep it off in a cell.
Yes, I pick them up. After the hitchhiking incidents I don’t want to leave them to their own devices on how to get back to the campground.
The old sheriff told me on the drive over that they’d been interviewing everyone that was in the town hall, he said. The local police force was helping. Without an acting sheriff they’ve fallen naturally back into following his lead. I asked him if he was considering running for office once this was all over. He’d get it. Easy. He looked pensive at the question, his eyes softening as he stared at the road ahead of us.
“No,” he finally said. “There’s a lot of power with being sheriff but it’s also a broad area of responsibility. I think I’d prefer to keep my focus local.”
My campground, in other words.
“Who do you think is going to run?”
“Someone from out of town. Everyone around here will be too spooked. The last two sheriffs had something bad happen to them, after all.”
That’s fair, I suppose. It’s a reasonable concern. The unofficial tradition around here is that my family deals with everyone on the campground, the sheriff deals with everything off the campground, and the police deal with speed traps and drunks and everything normal.
The police station is small. There’s a cramped reception and then a hallway leading to where the police have their offices and a single conference room. The jail cells are in the basement. The old sheriff led me to the conference room where a couple officers I recognized were gathered. They nodded at me politely as I entered.
They wanted to review their findings from the interviews. There were a few things of interest to me in particular, they felt. The town had initially been divided over what to do about my campground. The police had even broken up some fights in the bar over it. But at the town hall meeting, they’d all been convinced. The not-brother hadn’t said much, just introduced himself and said he was here to destroy my campground and they’d all agreed that yes, this was the right thing to do.
The people who were convinced prior reported nothing unusual about this.
The people who were on my side recalled that it felt wrong at the time. It grated against the back of their mind, like the same sense of unease that led them to double-check that all the doors were locked late at night. One of them called it an ‘intrusive thought.’ Something that was being forced upon them.
Everyone felt that way when they were willed to stop me. Some of the interviewees said it was like they were trapped inside their own mind, screaming, trying to break through to the surface, but something held them down. Like drowning, like straining to break the surface tension but the water would just not yield and allow them up for air.
If you think none of this matters because the not-brother is dead - I disagree. It matters very much. There is a difference between the not-brother’s control and the man with no shadow’s control. From what I’ve learned of the two, it was the not-brother that had the entire town under his control and he was the one that gave the order for them to try to stop me en masse.
It means that the man with no shadow does not have control of the entire town. He had to rely on the not-brother for that and now the not-brother is dead.
I cannot tell you how relieved I am by this.
The interviewees had another tidbit of information. In the moment of the not-brother’s death they felt something. Snippets of the not-brother’s thoughts, its emotions. Fragments. Not everyone had the same memories. The police were able to piece together a semblance of a coherent narrative. The not-brother died angry, but not at me. At the man with no shadow. In the moment of his death he realized he’d been betrayed - that the man with no shadow valued his life not at all and was willing to gamble with it and the bet had gone against him. He hated us both as he died.
I am less relieved by this information. Perhaps it is satisfying to know the not-brother died this way, but it means that the man with no shadow was willing to risk losing his pawn by exposing him so publicly. It means that the not-brother’s usefulness was dwindling. The man with no shadow doesn’t need the entire town turned against me.
I didn’t reveal these thoughts to the police. I just quietly listened, thanked them for their work, and left. The old sheriff told me when we got into his car that he’d brought me out to the police station for another purpose. He wanted a plausible reason to get me out of the house. There was somewhere else he wanted to visit but he didn’t want to draw attention to it. He didn’t trust anyone in town.
The arrest of the pharmacist that tried to poison me had sent ripples through the local medical community. These ripples had unearthed someone that wanted to speak to us. He was frightened, though, and so we were going to meet him someplace discreet. Someplace where neither us nor him would be easily recognized by the locals.
Outside a bowling alley in another town, to be specific. The sheriff pulled up next to a young man wearing a bright red t-shirt and he got in the backseat and then the sheriff drove off. I glanced back at him. He looked frightened and avoided making eye contact with me. I introduced myself, just to relieve the tension, and he said that he knew who I was. Or at least, he knew me by reputation.
“I work in the hospital,” he said. “I don’t want to tell you my name. But I need to tell you about something that’s been going on for a long time now.”
It started years ago. I pressed the young man for an exact date and he couldn’t give me one, as he’d only pieced the timeline together from records. But roughly speaking it was after the man with no shadow’s second release from the campground. The man worked in the ER as a nurse. Or at least, he did for a while. Not anymore, he transferred after he noticed what was happening. He suspected it was still going on. But every now and then they’d get someone in the ER from my campground that was desperately sick. There would be no physical injuries, but the person’s heart rate would be erratic, their oxygen count was low, and they’d soon go into cardiac arrest and succumb. It was a pattern. Not many, perhaps two a year. He’d only noticed because after one incident he’d started looking through the records and then tracking them going forwards.
The hospital recorded their deaths as from underlying health issues. He’d accessed the health history of one such patient and didn’t find anything to indicate this was the case.
I knew the people he was talking about. I’d made the decision to call 911 on some of them. At the time, I’d also assumed it was some underlying health condition and the hospital had confirmed with me it was natural causes when I followed up.
He hesitated a moment in his story, staring out the window and fidgeting. I gently reminded him that I see a lot of weird shit and nothing he said would be unbelievable to me.
There was one patient, he said. A young man. Looked healthy, not the kind you’d expect to find gasping for air on a gurney. They’d given him epinephrine, thinking it was an allergic reaction. Then, right before his heart stopped, the young man sat straight up in the bed and grabbed the nurse.
“I’m scared,” he gasped, clutching at the nurse’s arm. “There’s something - in the woods.”
The campground. The monsters it harbored. And the nurse noticed - just before he collapsed again and before the heart monitor sounded its alarm - that the young man’s shadow wasn’t right.
It was almost gone. What little remained was tattered, like it’d been torn to shreds.
After that he began to look at the shadows of all the people that died of natural causes in the ER. Most were normal. Very few were not. And of those few, he noticed another pattern.
The final cause of death was always written by the same doctor. It didn’t matter who had actually been present. The electronic record was always entered or amended by the same person.
The old sheriff thanked him for his courage in telling us what was happening inside the hospital. It was hard enough to recognize the patterns, he said, and even harder to jeopardize his position by coming forwards. He gently suggested the nurse look for a position elsewhere. In another county, perhaps. Just to be safe. Or at the very least, take a vacation until this was all over. Then he dropped him off back at the bowling alley and we sat in silence for a little bit as he drove back towards the campground.
“The man with no shadow has a doctor under his control,” I said. “So what? I think we knew he had people in the medical profession when that pharmacist tried to poison me.”
“Look at the big picture,” the old sheriff replied gently. “Think of the timeline. This doctor started covering for the man with no shadow’s victims after his second release. I think the important takeaway from this is he didn’t just visit the sheriff or the woman your uncle was having an affair with.”
I was quiet for a moment. His words conjured a terrible reality, one that I did not feel ready to confront.
“I can’t trust anyone,” I whispered. “He could have gone to all the key people around town in the time allowed him.”
I glanced sideways at the old sheriff suspiciously. He didn’t take his gaze off the road, but I think he noticed nonetheless.
“He can’t control me, Kate,” he said gently.
“Are you like Bryan, then? Some distant ancestor that wasn’t human?”
“No. But let’s just say there’s someone that protects me and leave it at that.”
Sometimes I wonder if my campground draws in humans as well. People that don’t quite fit in with the rest of the world because there’s a spark of something unnatural in them.
And I know there’s been some speculation about this so let me reiterate: my family line is 100% human. Believe me, we checked. And we didn’t trust that everyone was telling the truth, infidelity is obviously a thing after all, we got an actual source that could tell. I’m ordinary. Just a girl with a gun and a list of rules.
“Let’s go visit the doctor,” the old sheriff suggested.
“And… kill him?”
“No.” He paused. “Well, maybe. But let’s keep that as the last resort.”
I called the police station and a few minutes later we had an address and thirty minutes later we were pulling into the driveway of the doctor’s house. It was a long drive, winding through a grassy yard to a three-car drive. We have clusters of these sorts of houses in scenic areas. You know how groups of animals have their own names? A murder of crows. A conspiracy of ravens. What do you call a group of rich people with big houses sporting too many gables?
Around here, they’re called ‘easy targets’, especially when the police have told you they’ll ignore any alerts from the security system company.
We went in through a window when he didn’t answer the door. The old sheriff took a rifle from the back of the truck and bashed in the glass with the stock. That set off the alarm, as we expected, and the old sheriff ignored it and tossed his jacket over the ledge to cover the broken glass and we climbed in.
The interior was dark. None of the lights were on. And the furniture… it looked ransacked. Everything was pushed away from the windows, to the far end of the room. Piled against the wall, sofa upended to make room for chairs, possessions stacked on top of seat cushions and littering the floor underneath the end table to leave the rest of the floor barren.
“This is… weird,” I whispered uneasily.
We cleared the first floor. Every room was the same - all the contents stacked as far from the windows as possible. Then we went upstairs. The stairway ascended into darkness. It was an unnatural gloom, deeper than merely having the lights off. The old sheriff switched on a flashlight and peered into the first room. The windows were covered with layers of black plastic. The edges were sealed over and over with duct tape. No sunlight was able to get through. He cleared that room while I stood watch at the doorway. There was no furniture. The rooms were completely barren.
We found the doctor in the second to last room. The old sheriff had hesitated before entering, only because he was looking into the master bedroom. That was where all the furniture from the second floor was. It was stacked up to the ceiling. It cast long, jagged shadows on the far wall as the old sheriff’s flashlight beam played over the interior. I admit that I was being careless - I was looking too, wondering what drove the doctor to do such a thing. I wasn’t watching the room we were about to enter.
The doctor emerged from the darkness at a run. He bodily hit the sheriff, who staggered back a pace with a grunt. The doctor’s hands were wrapped around some kind of weapon. His eyes were wide and unfocused. He ripped it free and waved it wildly in front of him, panting desperately with fear.
“Get out!” he shrieked. “GET OUT!”
The old sheriff backed away, telling him easy, easy, just calm down. We weren’t here to hurt him. The doctor lunged again with his knife, screaming that we had to get out, that we were going to get him killed. And all the while the old sheriff was trying to talk him down.
I didn’t feel we were getting anywhere with that.
I took careful aim and kicked, driving my heel into his knee. He shrieked and went down and then the old sheriff smashed his flashlight on the back of the man’s head. A box knife fell from his hands and onto the carpet.
The sheriff handcuffed him while he recovered his senses and I took the opportunity to tear the plastic off the windows. Sunlight poured in. And the doctor began to shriek, screaming that the shadows were going to devour him. The sheriff stared dubiously at the wall where his shadow stood. I peeled back the old sheriff’s shirt to look at the wound in his arm. It wasn’t too deep. Might need a stitch or two though.
“Do you think we should be concerned about the shadows?” he asked nervously.
“We’d be fucked if the man with no shadow could control shadows outside the campground,” I said scornfully. “Boundaries are special, though, and my campground has borders. He can’t get out.”
We hauled the doctor downstairs and to the yard. Then I waited while the old sheriff got the first aid kit out to bandage his wound. If it weren’t for Perchta, I might have slit the doctor’s throat and dumped his body within eyeshot of the man with no shadow’s grove. I had to be content with merely kicking him a few times while he was down, just to hear him yell. I was wearing my work boots, too. Probably cracked at least one rib before the old sheriff gruffly told me to knock it off.
“He made a lot of trouble for me,” I complained as we wrestled him into the car.
“If I beat the shit out of everyone that ever caused me trouble I would not have this cordial of a relationship with your family.”
I didn’t really have a way to reply to that.
We took him to the old sheriff’s property and dumped him in an empty shed in the backyard. The old sheriff went to the ER to get his arm stitched up and I waited with his wife. She’s a pleasant lady. She’s his second wife. The first died and a year and a day after her death, he married again, to a stranger no one in town had met before. I hadn’t really sat down and talked to her before and we had coffee and I can’t remember much of the conversation for some weird reason.
When the old sheriff returned, he said we’d go talk to the doctor now. See if we could get anything useful out of him.
“Am I bad cop? What do I do?” I asked as we crossed the yard.
“Just stand there and look like yourself. You don’t need to say anything. In fact… please don’t.”
I felt a little offended.
The doctor was huddled in the darkest corner of the shed. All the fight was gone from him. He was willing to talk. Unfortunately, It was a lot of hysterical babbling. Something about how the shadows were watching him and how he saw their faces. I can only assume that the faces are of the people who died and whose records he falsified and his guilt has finally broken him. After a lot of prodding, the old sheriff got a few things of use from him. A man had come to his office at the hospital. He’d been startled by the intrusion at first and stood, meaning to tell the stranger to leave, but then the stranger had greeted him and sat down and said he just wanted to have a conversation. He just had a few questions. The doctor decided to indulge him and the man asked about his work a bit and then the doctor belonged to the man with no shadow.
After that, the man with no shadow introduced himself as something from the campground. He’d gloated, briefly, that everything was in motion and he’d had a very successful day of getting all his pawns in order. And the doctor would be one of his pawns, wouldn’t he? There was an important job for him.
“That family doesn’t trust me,” he hissed. “Understandable, but let’s keep it at that, shall we? Make sure they never find out what else I can do.”
Then I inherited the campground and things changed for the man with no shadow.
“He’s angry,” the doctor wept. “I feel it. So angry. Ever since you wrote the rules.”
Because I included him in them. My breath caught in my chest. He’d been hoping to remain largely ignored all this time, understood to be malicious, but perhaps not as great a threat as some of the other campground denizens. But what he did with my friends had left quite the impression and instead of merely avoiding him myself, I’d written him down and told everyone to avoid him.
I’d robbed him of his prey and his power.
No wonder he wanted me gone.
After that, the doctor settled on one thought and that consumed what was left of his mind.
“He eats them,” he wept, over and over. “He’s going to eat me too.”
That’s it. That’s all we could get from him. As we were leaving, the doctor begged us to seal off all the cracks and leave the lights off. No light could get in, he babbled. He’s powerless in the darkness. The old sheriff obligingly stuffed a bunch of ragged towels under the crack of the door to block out the light, which was far more courteous than anything I would have done.
“Is it safe to leave him here?” I asked, as he did this. “What if he gets out and you’re not around? What about your wife?”
He smiled faintly.
“She’s safer than I am,” he said.
And I knew exactly the nature of his protection with that small statement. I will not tell you what it is, for while I believe I am enough removed from the agreement that it wouldn’t matter, I do not wish to take chances. If you figure it out, please keep it to yourself. I don’t think you’ll do any harm, but let’s be polite.
For your own safety.
I’m a campground manager. I’m angry at myself for missing the signs. The man with no shadow has been preying on my campers all along and I never realized it. I thought we were losing people to normal reasons: severe allergies, dehydration, heart problems. And perhaps we were, but there were also some that were being devoured. I think about what it was like when he ripped my shadow’s arm off. I remember how much it hurt.
I can’t imagine how they suffered before they died.
It’s time to put an end to the man with no shadow. Finally, I think I’ve got the leverage with the town to do it. The police are on my side, after the incident at the town hall. The general public won’t interfere. The doctor said the man with no shadow is powerless in the darkness, but frankly there’s not a lot I can do with that. So I’m going to contact the fire department to get them out here with their trucks and then with them standing by to contain it - I’m going to burn his grove to ash.
This didn't go well.
Read the full list of rules.
Visit our campground's website.
submitted by fainting--goat to nosleep [link] [comments]

Kubala, the path to glory of Barcelona's most loved legend: A story of overcoming, adventures, crazy nights, majestic matches and of a good man who made everybody around him happy.

Nothing in Kubala's life was normal. Now that TV series about sportsmen are fashionable, the one that could be made about the adventures of Ladislao Kubala Stecz (Budapest, 1927) would raze through many seasons. In one season we could go deeper into his facet of legendary footballer, capable of changing the way of playing this sport, how he saved his life at the very last moment by not getting on the Torino plane that crashed in Superga, or how he was ten minutes away from signing for Real Madrid or enrolling in the Pirate League of Colombia, all of this in order to end being Barcelona's biggest icon... who ended playing for Espanyol.
We could add a season of adventures due to his incredible escape from communist Hungary. His journey through Italy with a football team, the Hungaria, of stateless people in which in addition to Hungarians also played Croats, Albanians, Romanians and Serbs who were looking for a life as good as they could get. One could also add to this the facet of the social phenomenon that dazzled a country during the dark years of Franco's regime by becoming a pop star, and end up with another season about the legends, real, invented or simply exaggerated, of his adventures in Barcelona's nightclubs.
Everything about Kubala is like a movie.

The legend of the escape.

Born in Budapest to a Hungarian man and a Slovakian woman, he always considered himself as both Hungarian and Slovakian, even when this republic was part of the now extinct Czechoslovakia. By the age of 20, Kubala was a football star known for his performances with Slovan Bratislava and Vasas Budapest. In fact, he had already been capped by Czechoslovakia and Hungary. Later, he would go on to play for Spain, and is still the only player to have been capped by three countries. But fed up with the system that was preventing him from developing his professional football career, he embarked on an escape proper of a movie to the West. He contacted a human trafficking organisation, a mafia that, in exchange for a large amount of money, facilitated a partial escape. As is now the case with criminals who gamble with the lives of people who want to cross the Mediterranean from Africa to Europe or pass to the United States through the southern border, the smugglers did not secure anything. The last part of the journey depended on the luck and expertise of the escapees and often ended tragically.
"I remember that when I escaped from Hungary I was just a kid. The traffickers left us in the middle of a mountain to do the last stretch on foot. We were a large group. The adults gathered the children and gave us palinka. A liquor similar to brandy to get us drunk and fall asleep. A child's cry could alert the border guards patrolling the mountain. And they had orders to shoot to kill. The group split in two. My group was lucky and we were able to win the Austrian border. Once we were safe, we learned that the other group that had travelled with us and took another road was discovered and killed." The chilling story is that of Zoltan Czibor, the son of the former Barça player who tells how he had to flee Hungary with his family to join his father in Italy. The odyssey of Kubala, six years earlier, was mirrored.
The traffickers disguised Kubala as a Russian soldier and put him in a truck that would leave the escapees at an undetermined point in the mountains so that they could cross the border into Austria on their own. Kubala remembered that this journey scared him to death because unlike his comrades, he was a national celebrity and any soldier who checked the military truck would recognize him. He was endangering his life and the lives of those who accompanied him.
When they were left in the mountain on January 27, 1949, Kubala walked, and crossing a river helped by a tire that carried him, managed to reach Innsbuck, Austria, without any documentation. He was a stateless man starting from scratch.
In Austria he managed to sign with Pro Patria, a team from Milan, but he could only play friendly matches. His escape provoked the anger of the Hungarian regime, which denounced him and blocked his registration. Kubala had married Anna Daucik two years earlier, sister of Fernando Daucik, a veteran player of the era who would later become a famous coach. When Kubala fled, he left behind his family, whom he was unable to reunite with until six months later, when Anna was able to cross the border and meet Ladislao in Udine. He arrived with one more member of the family. A baby, her firstborn, whom Kubala did not yet know.
While he is irregularly enrolled in the Pro Patria, he gets the chance to sign with Torino, Italy's dominant team at the time. He is offered a trial match. Nothing better than a friendly match that Il Grande Torino had in Lisbon as a tribute to Xico Ferreira. However, when the Turin team's plane is about to take off, the president of Torino prevents Kubala from boarding because he fears a federal sanction. On the return flight, on 4 May 1949, the Fiat G 212 of Avio Linee Italiana crashed into the retaining wall of the Basilica of Superga due to the wind, poor visibility and an error in the altimeter of the aircraft. At 180 kilometres per hour and with a visibility of 40 metres, the pilot saw the stone wall of the basilica too late when he thought the plane was at 2,000 metres and was actually at 690 metres above sea level. The 31 people who were travelling in that aircraft died. Kubala had saved his life again.

The legend of Hungaria.

With no possibility of playing in Italy because the back then very powerful Italian Communist Party was pressing to prevent people fleeing from countries in the orbit of the USSR from taking refuge in Italy, Kubala had no choice but to form a team of stateless people who hired their services throughout Europe to play friendly matches against whoever hired them.
The team was called Hungaria, was managed by his brother-in-law Fernando Daucik and was mainly made up of Hungarians, although there were also players of other nationalities. It was made up of: Kis, Marik, Torok, Mogoy, Lami, Rákosi, Hrotko, Majteny, Nagy, Kubala, Otto, Licker, Turbeky, Monsider (Croatian), De Lorenzi (Albanian), Szegedi (Romanian) and Arangelovic (Serbian).
They played their first match against Italy's B team, but again pressure from the PCI forced them to play outside Italy. And that is how they arrived in Spain, hired by Santiago Bernabéu. On June 5, 1950, they faced Real Madrid in Chamartin, losing 4-2, but with a stellar performance by Kubala, who scored both of his team's goals. Three days later, they beat the Spanish team that was preparing for the World Cup in Brazil, where they came in fourth, 1-2 again with a great performance by Kubala, who received an offer from Real Madrid to be signed.
Kubala requires that to join the team, Madrid must also hire Daucik as a coach, something that Bernabéu does not agree to. The Madrid coach at that time was the Briton Keeping, a great connoisseur of WM tactics. Daucik is offered to train the Plus Ultra, a Madrid branch that plays in the third division. That negative and the federative problems that drags Kubala cause that Madrid becomes disinterested in his transfer, that was already agreed lacking of some fringes that turned out to be determinant.
The Hungaria moves two days later to Barcelona, where on June 10 plays against Espanyol losing 6-4 in a match with Pepe Samitier, the technical secretary of Barça, in the stands. It is necessary to emphasize that Hungaria had been playing three matches in five days with a very short team and without being able to make substitutions. Even so, Kubala amazes and Samitier does not mess around. Six days after that match, on 16 June 1950, at half past six in the evening, Kubala signed his three-year contract with Barça at the Pasaje Méndez Vigo. Obviously, with Fernando Daucik as coach. President Montal, Sr., signed him as an "amateur player" in order to avoid any trouble for the federation.
Real Madrid rages and is shocked. Pablo Hernández, general secretary of the white entity and Santiago Bernabéu's right hand, assures that Barça had broken a non-aggression pact between both teams and had hired a player with whom they were in talks. Samitier, who was unbeatable in the media, declares that he had been following Kubala for months and that the pact had not been broken because it referred only to players who played in Spanish teams. And Hungaria was not Spanish. In fact, it wasn't from anywhere.
But Kubala's problems didn't end there. He still didn't have a registration card or an international certificate. Vasas in Budapest and the Hungarian Federation had reported him to FIFA. Barça used the weak argument that since professionalism had been abolished in Hungary, any amateur player could choose his destiny. But the fight was not going to be so easy.
Barça, it is fair to say, had the total support of the regime and the Federation to carry out the transfer. At the level of anti-communist propaganda, Kubala was perfect. A young and extraordinary sportsman who fled from the red hell to take refuge in Franco's Spain was a candy too sweet to let go. Muñoz Calero, president of the Federation, rowed in favor of Barça as did Ricardo Cabot, secretary of the organization, who, in addition to his affection for the regime, was a well-known Barcelona supporter.
But the procedures were very slow and Kubala could only play friendly matches. He made his debut against Osasuna on 12 October, scoring two goals on the day the Barça fans knew instantly that they had just signed a star. Then he played against Zaragoza, Frankfurt twice, Girona and the Badalona. In six friendlies he scored 11 goals. The fans and the player himself were eager to meet in an official match. For all this, the Federation to play the role with FIFA fined Barça every time he lined up Kubala with the symbolic figure of 50 pesetas.
It is at this time that Kubala is about to leave everything and go away from Barça. He needed the money and wanted to play at the highest level and in Colombia he was offered the chance to do so. The South American country had organised the so-called Pirate League outside FIFA and many of the world's biggest stars joined, including Alfredo Di Stefano who went to Millonarios in Bogota. Kubala had a tempting offer from Atletico Bucaramanga. With the option of Kubala leaving, events accelerated. To begin with, Barça fixed his financial situation by means of a peculiar amateur contract in which they paid him 1,200 pesetas for "compensation" and 3,800 for "encouragement and overfeeding".
On April 2, 1951, he was granted the status of political refugee as a stateless person, which was a step towards granting him Spanish nationality. But for this step, Kubala first had to be converted to Catholicism through the sacrament of baptism. Every Spaniard had to be a Catholic. Kubala was baptized in Aguilas, Murcia, the birthplace of Muñoz Calero, president of the Federation. It is then when Barça, to avoid problems, settles its differences economically with Vasas, which despite being against capitalism accepts a payment of 300,000 pesetas to provide the transfer, while the Pro Patria, which also complained, is satisfied with 12 million lire.
The Kubala era could now really commence.

The legend on the field.

Kubala made his official debut with Barcelona in Sevilla in a cup match. The Sevillistas at that time were one of the best teams. Sevilla and Barça had developed in that period a great rivalry in the high places of the table. In 1946 Sevilla had stolen the possibility of winning the championship from Barça by drawing in Les Corts on the last day, in 1948 Barça beat the Sevillians in the final of the Eva Perón Cup (which would be the current Supercup) and in that campaign a Barça without Kubala had lost all its options to win La Liga after losing 4-0 in Nervión three days before the end of the season.
The Cup, by that time was played once the regular season was over and in those circumstances the official debut of Kubala took place. On April 29th in Nervion, Barça arrived to play against Sevilla in the middle of a difficult atmosphere. The Andalusians had lost the league in a dramatic outcome when they drew at home in the last match against Atletico Madrid with a refereeing performance that the locals judged scandalous. For further concern, the Federation allowed Kubala to line up with Barça in the first round of the Cup, which in Sevilla was taken as a surprise.
With the stadium full to the flag, Barcelona defeated Sevilla in an exhibition of Kubala. He wasn't just the best of the match but he showed Spain a way of playing football unthinkable until that time: chest controls, shots with curve, millimetric changes of play of 40 meters, protection of the ball with his back, use of the body in the shot and touches with the heel.
Domenech, Sevilla's attacker who was the direct protagonist of that match, explained years later how he remembered that day.
"It was something never seen before. Ramallets kicked it and he would receive her with his chest, or with either of his legs. If you tackled him he would dribble you in a brick. He'd put the ball where he wanted her. Besides, from time to time he changed with César, he'd be a center forward and César would be a midfielder. They drove us crazy. The anger of the people became clamours. We were witnessing something extraordinary. It was like going from black and white cinema to colour," explained the former Sevilla player. The Sevilla crowd, who had welcomed Barça and its new superstar with anger, ended up giving Kubala a standing ovation for every action as if they were watching a glorious bullfighting performance.
Kubala's actions on the field change football forever. Since there was no television, his exploits are reported orally. There is no other way to see it than to go to the field of Les Corts, which is packed for every game Barça plays as a local. It is a very common argument to say that Kubala forced Barça to build the Camp Nou because the old Les Corts was not enough to accommodate all the people who wanted to admire him. Maybe he had an influence, but as the journalist Frederic Porta, author of an interesting biography of Kubala (Kubala, l'heroi que va canviar la història del Barça. Ed. Saldonar) explains, "the truth is that Barça had already bought the land to build the Camp Nou two years before and the idea of making a bigger field already existed, but Kubala advanced everything and justified the change".
Blessed with brutal technique, a sensational strike of the ball and an unusual physical strength, Kubala changed football. He would throw free-kicks over the wall with curve or by making the ball bounce in front of the goalkeeper, he would take penalties (he was practically infallible) with what was later called paradinha and was credited with the Brazilians although he was the first in Europe to do so. Physically he was a bull. In his youth he had practiced boxing and if he didn't become a recognized fighter with a great career it was because he had short arms. His lower body was sensational. He had a butt and legs that allowed him to protect the ball like no one else. Frederic Porta says that "in his time of splendour they measured his thighs and each one had a circumference of 69 centimetres, which would be the waist of one of his companions". He was also capable of running the 100 metres in less than 11 seconds. A total athlete with a very refined technique.
However, that physical strength and the confidence he had in her, for he never avoided a collision, were his downfall. Kubala became the target of a hunt by rival defenders. He never went into hiding and that's why in eleven years at Barcelona he suffered up to eleven injuries of some seriousness. With matches without television, the harshness that bordered on violence was the order of the day. He was being kicked to death.
But Barça was living its most golden period to date. Moreover, the club revolved around Kubala. Frederic Porta compares it with the present time: "Now they say that Messi commands the club and surely he commands, but nothing to do with the influence that Kubala had. Kubala was the boss and even the one who decided the transfers. And no one was surprised. That Barça adopted the socks with the horizontal stripes blaugrana is his imposition. He saw them on the rugby team, liked them and incorporated them into the football team by decree. In fact, it is he who insists on signing Luis Suarez when he impresses him in a match against Deportivo. Kubala was Suarez's first fan, but what happened in the stands, which was divided between Suaristas and Kubalistas, is another matter.
Suarez was eight years younger than Kubala. He arrived at Barcelona at the age of 19, Kubala was 27 and his physique was very punished by his injuries and the life he was living, as he did not deprive himself of anything. If he held out, it was because of privileged genetics.
Therefore, there never was a real competition between them, but there was a lot of influence here from the figure of Helenio Herrera, the Barça manager, who saw Kubala as older and slower and was looking forward to a quick change by the young Galician as the leader of the team. The debate reached the stands and the media. It was an absurd debate, because they didn't play in the same position, with whom Kubala really had a certain rivalry with Eulogio Martínez, who was the one with whom he alternated the position.
Kubala's physical problems were not only due to injuries. He had the whole of Spain in suspense when he suffered a tuberculosis that could have cost him his life. There are apocryphal versions that explain that this tuberculosis was actually a stab wound he suffered in a fight in a cheap pub in the fifth district (Barcelona's Chinatown) and he has to retire to Montseny to recover. Nobody is betting on his return to the pitch if he survives a "hole in the lung the size of a silver bullet" according to the chronicles of the time. But once again, Kubala's ability to survive prevails. He returns to the pitches, but already heavily punished and slowed down.
It is against this backdrop that the 1961 European Cup final arrives, with Kubala arriving at the age of 34 with a herniated disc that barely allows him to walk, but he wants to play. He knows that the club is going through a critical situation despite having reached the final of the maximum trophy for the first time: the club is bankrupt because of the construction of the Camp Nou, the fights in the board of directors are chaotic, Luis Suarez has signed for Inter (the one in Bern will be his last game with Barça), which was where Helenio Herrera had left the team in the hands of Enrique Orizaola.
Kubala tells Orizaola to line him up, that like all the Portuguese will go for him and he can barely move because of the back pain and will play with painkillers, it will give more opportunities to his teammates. But the match is a pile of misfortunes for Barcelona. Ramallets scores an own goal, Barça shoots three times to the damn square posts of the goals (from then on they would change their shape) even Kubala kicked a ball that hit a post, went through the goal line until it hit the other post and came out repelled. Barça lost and Kubala's time at Barcelona came to an end.

The man of the year.

Kubala's significance goes beyond the playing field. According to a vote made for Radio Barcelona by journalist Joaquín Soler Serrano in the mid-50s, the Catalans most loved by their fellow citizens were Doctor Barraquer and Ladislao Kubala.
"He was literally the most famous person in the city, people really venerated him, and even Messi's influence cannot be compared to that of Kubala in those years," explains Porta.
His life off the field was notorious. An unrepentant night owl, it was common to see him in Barcelona's fashionable coffee shops and nightclubs. He was a man who stood out. Alfredo Relaño defines him in some of his articles as "a demigod. Tall, strong, blond with blue eyes and an overflowing personality. He aroused the admiration of men and women alike. An idol". Frederic Porta sums it up with the argument that "he would be the sum of Messi and Beckham and on top of that, he would go out every night".
Faced with Kubala's disorganised life, the Barcelona management decided to set up a private detective agency to follow him at night. The reports of the detectives are still in the Centre de Documentació del FC Barcelona and Frederic Porta published them in the history magazine 'Sàpiens'. In them, he gives a detailed account of the nocturnal wanderings of "Mr. K.", the code name of the Blaugrana star in an exercise in absurd discretion. There is also a letter from a Sabadell businessman in the club's archives, expressing concern that Kubala and Czibor had been "found in a Sabadell establishment after 2.30 in the morning accompanied by some of those ladies who were once gentlemen, I don't know if you understand". What the businessman doesn't explain in the letter is what he was doing in the same place.
Kubala's fondness for drinking was no secret. Helenio Herrera explains in a television interview that "one day at an airport in customs they asked Kubala if he had anything to declare and he said two bottles of whisky. The official asked him to show them to him and he, laughing, touched his belly and said: 'X-ray, I have them inside'. On another occasion, in the same situation, but carrying the bottle in the bag, he was told to leave it at the airport because no alcoholic drinks were allowed to be taken on board. Neither shy nor lazy, he drank it in front of the astonished official.
The legends about the occasions when the night was made longer and he did not arrive at training sessions or matches were recurrent. In that case, he called on the services of Angel Mur Sr., the team masseur who knew where to find him. He would start a pilgrimage through the usual places or floors until he found him, took him to the changing room, gave him a cold shower, a coffee with salt, a massage and played. The fans forgave him everything and were aware that their star was a man of joyful life. But he never failed on the field. Among the crowd at the time there were comments about the Kubala ritual in those games that followed a busy night. "He started off badly, and vaguely, but the signal was when, ten minutes into the game, he rolled up his sleeves as if to say 'I'm here, let's start, I've already cleared off', and the machine started to work.
You can't find anyone in the world who speaks ill of Kubala. Absolutely no one. Everyone highlights his huge heart and that despite being by far the highest paid player of the time (he earned six times more than his teammates) he didn't have a no for anyone. His detachment from money was legendary.
As proof, the anecdote explained by his biographer Porta: "one day he arrived at the dressing room and commented that his car had been stolen and that in the glove compartment he was carrying an envelope with 200,000 pesetas, which was a fortune for the time (a good apartment could cost 130,000 pesetas). When his colleagues tried to encourage him, he simply said: someone who needs it more than I do must have taken it".
It was also usual for him to take off his coat and give it to a poor man who begged in Barcelona's winter, or to take in any Hungarian who came to Barcelona asking for help in his house in Carrer Duquesa d'Orleans. Kubala, remembering his times as a stateless refugee without papers, asked nothing. He would take them home and pay them a boat ticket to America. The motto among the refugees fleeing the Iron Curtain was that "if you get to Barcelona, look for Kubala, he will help you". He never failed.
Later, now retired, he set up a bar next to Czibor in Capitan Arenas Street, the mythical Kep Duna (blue Danube in Hungarian) that became an unofficial refugee reception centre that was monitored by the secret services of the United States, the USSR and the Spanish police. Something like the Rick's Café in the film Casablanca, but in the upper area of Barcelona.
He was the great character of Barcelona loved by all, but there was a moment when this was almost broken, strange as it may seem. It coincided with the defeat in Bern, when a part of the press came to write that "Barça must be de-Kubalized as the Soviet Union must be de-Stalinized" and, especially, when he signed for Espanyol. The earthquake was a huge one.

From the bench to Sarrià.

After the defeat in Bern's final, Kubala announced his retirement from the fields. He had taken the coaching course and was ranked number one in his class. He made a pact with the president Llaudet, who was also an interesting character as we will see, that in principle he would take charge of the footballers' school of the club and that in a couple of years he would be in charge of the first team.
Meanwhile, Barcelona is directed by Lluís Miró who faces a team in disarray. Suarez has been transferred to Inter in the worst decision in the club's history and myths such as Ramallets, Tejada and Czibor were in the decline of their careers. The season starts badly and after losing at Mestalla to Valencia by a humiliating 6-2 that forces the resignation of Miro. It was time for Kubala, who was promoted to the first team in front of the joy of the fans. And the project results from the beginning. The Barça of the second part of season 61-62 recovers in La Liga and finishes second (the distance with the white ones when Kubala arrived was almost insurmountable) and avenges the 6-2 of Mestalla beating Valencia in the Camp Nou 4-0.
Facing the next season, the 62-63, Kubala can make his team by giving painful drops of some of his former teammates as it is the case of Eulogio Martinez or Evaristo. One of Llaudet's reluctances to give Kubala the job of coach was that he would have to manage some of his former teammates.
The positive expectations about Kubala's first full project were frustrated at first when the Blaugrana team had to play the final of the Copa de Ferias against Valencia, the team that caused the fall of Miró and the promotion of Kubala. And the history, by rare that it seems, repeats: Valencia returns to him to put 6-2 to the Barça. The fans explode against the team. In the return match, obviously, there is nothing to do, but Llaudet's ability to self-flagellation has no limits. As Alfredo Relaño writes, the Blaugrana president calls a dinner with the press the day before the game and makes this statement that if it happened today would open all the news.
Llaudet, in front of the press and accompanied by the coach Kubala and Gràcia as captain, asks the fans to forgive him and announces changes in the protocol of the start of the second leg. "Valencia will go out first to receive the applause, then Barcelona, to receive the whistles. Then Kubala will come out, so he can get the thunders. And finally me, so that all the whistles fall on my person, because I am the barcelonist who loves the club the most and who is destined to die on the pitch, if necessary...". He ends his speech crying. As we can see, Gaspart didn't invent anything.
The match ended in a draw and Kubala's project as Barça's coach was doomed. The manager is fired in the middle of the season and then a bomb explodes in Barcelona. Kubala accepts the offer to return to the pitch, but not as a coach, will be as a player and nothing more and nothing less than in Espanyol, Barça's eternal rival.
On 3 September 1963 Espanyol, then Español, announced that Kubala would be hired as a player. At 36 years of age, he was capable of being competitive.
His decision divides the public opinion. On the one hand, Federico Gallo and Juan José Castillo support his decision, on the other hand, Carlos Pardo or Ibáñez Escofet shoot at him. They call him a "Jew who sells himself for a plate of beans", a "traitor" and they see political interests in his decision.
Kubala explains that he wanted to continue playing and that he saw himself capable of doing so, although he accepted that he was not at Barcelona's level. He had received offers from important clubs, including River Plate and Juventus, but he doesn't want to leave Barcelona, where he feels like another Barcelonian. The Espanyol meets his expectations.
His start of the season is not bad, on the contrary, he scores in his first two games, but the team doesn't work out. The coexistence between the veteran newcomer Kubala and the team's symbol, Argilés, is not easy. Scopelli is dismissed as coach and de facto command of the team is given to the two team leaders despite their differences. The crisis erupts when the Spaniard visits the Camp Nou. The periquitos lose by 5-0 in a match in which the Barcelona crowd booed Kubala who they are eager to humiliate with his new team. Even so, at the end of the match, Kubala has a gesture to his former team that shows that he does not hold any grudge against what he has heard from the stands. At the end of the match, he organizes his teammates to make the corridor to Barça applauding the rival in recognition of the exhibition made. That gesture feels bad among the Espanyol fans and among some of his teammates. Argilés does not make the corridor and goes straight to the changing rooms.
The following year, Kubala becomes a manager-player and among the departures that he causes, there is the one of Argilés, but by contrast, Di Stéfano arrives, also hurt by his bad exit from Madrid fighting against Bernabéu.
Di Stefano and Kubala are like brothers. Even though they haven't officially played together, they have a special chemistry. A friendship that is forged when the Argentinian is about to sign for Barcelona.
When Di Stéfano arrives in Barcelona to sign for Español, he stays first at the Avenida Palace Hotel, but after a month he is living in Kubala's house as one of the family. The children of both always maintained a relationship as if they were brothers.
One of the players under Kubala's command was Jose Maria Rodilla, one of the players who would soon form the famous 'Dolphins' forward line. At 80 years of age, Rodilla remembers Kubala.
"I have a wonderful memory of Kubala, I always had a special affection for him. Not in vain, he was the one who signed me for Espanyol", he remembers when answering the call of this newspaper to which he confesses that* "normally I do not make declarations, but to speak about Kubala I do whatever is needed"*.
Rodilla, former teammate at Espanyol, has clear that "he was the best player in the world in terms of technique. Di Stéfano was the best footballer, but he didn't have his technique. Alfredo was more intense and more player of the whole field, but he could not do things that Kubala did"
Those who had the privilege of playing with both of them remember that "for example, Di Stefano wouldn't leave you alone for a minute, he was all over you and the fights were intense, but he always set an example, he never asked you for anything that he didn't do. Kubala was more paternalistic and tolerant. For example, he would ask us to do as he did in training, and while sitting down he would be able to make 3,000 touches on the ball without dropping it. Only he could do that."
Rodilla adds a story that explains Kubala's quality as a player-coach at the age of 38: "We went to play a friendly at Amposta and they called a foul on the edge of the box. Kubala takes the ball and whacks it into the corner. The referee made him repeat it because someone had moved or I don't know what. Kubala takes the ball and wham, back to the square. And the referee tells him that he has to repeat. That day Kubala got angry and left the field."
Rodilla recalls that Kubala's move from Barça to Espanyol created controversy in the city, but that he was oblivious to it. "He was still a magnificent person, I never heard him say a bad word against anyone. He never got into an argument, he was goodness personified, he was unlucky in his time as a coach, but as a coach he is one of the best I've ever had, with a great love for young players and always trying to help you improve."

Boys well, optimal morale.

He extended his playing career for a couple more years by playing for Zurich and even trying out the American adventure at the Toronto Falcons, where he coincides with Branko and Daucik's son. At the age of 40 he played 19 games and scored 5 goals.
In 1968 he returned to Spain and trained the Córdoba team for a short period of time until he was called up to the national team. Kubala will manage the Spanish team until 1980, when he signs for Barcelona again as a coach.
Kubala's debut with Spain was, once again, a propaganda match for the regime. It was played in the Estadio de la Línea de la Concepción against Finland and Spain beat their rivals 6-0 in a match that was no longer useful. Spain had missed out on qualifying for the Mexico '70 World Cup, but the idea of that game was to showcase a great field that could be seen from Gibraltar as if to give jealousy to those in the Rock for the sports culture of Spain. Dictatorship things.
It's true that at that time Spain was struggling more than anything else on the international scene. It did not qualify for the 1974 World Cup because of Katalinski's goal in the play-off match in Frankfurt, and in both the 1978 World Cup and the 1980 European Championship the team fell in the first round, but there is still no one from that era who will make a judgement against Kubala.
"Kubala, one ahead of his time. No doubt he had a lot to do with his past as a footballer. And not just like any other player, like the best! I remember him always saying to me: 'Ruben, you have to get out of the way on the other side of the ball. Look for the space, not the ball. The goal I scored in Yugoslavia has to do with everything he taught me," he told Fermin de la Calle in an interview with AS Ruben Cano, the hero of the famous 'Battle of Belgrade' in the match that took Spain to the World Cup in Argentina. Yes, the one with the goal by Cardeñosa that could have changed Kubala's record with the national team.
He did a lot to improve Spanish football and his idea regarding the incorporation of foreigners to improve the level of Spanish football was key in the future development of the Spanish competitive level.
His players remember him as a didactic person, tactically bold and very close. At a time when fury was the hallmark of the game, Kubala never forgot that he was the heir to the Magyar tradition of the Honved and the Hungary who, by moving the ball, shocked the world the day they destroyed England at Wembley 3-6.
For the average football fan, Kubala may have been a half-hearted coach who embodied an era of the national team in which nothing was won, as has been the case most of the time, and he became popular for his expressions that would now be meme material on social networks. The national team was known as the 'Kubala boys' and the coach's catchphrase before the matches saying "boys well, optimal morale" was the fashionable phrase in the coffee shops of the 70s in Spain.
But among his colleagues, Kubala still deserved reverential respect. "The first goal was authentically Latin, cunningly scored and perfectly studied. I can only congratulate Kubala on his previous tactical work," said German boss Helmut Schön after facing and losing to Spain in a friendly in which the recent world semi-finalist and next world champion fell to the Kubala boys at the Sanchez Pizjuan with two strategic goals from Arieta. Yes, Arieta against Müller. Seeler, Beckembauer, Maier, Netzer and company.
He left the national team in 1980 to join Barça as the coach of Núñez's second project in an operation that was the prelude to what would happen in the World Cup in Russia with Lopetegui. Kubala committed to Barça while he was coach and tried to alternate functions, but Porta refused. Finally, on 8 June 1980, four days before the start of the European Championship, Kubala signed for the Blaugrana team, which he would join after the European Championship.
His second spell at the head of Barça did not go well either and he was dismissed mid-season. He continued his adventure on the bench as coach of Saudi Arabia (in that he was also a pioneer), training Malaga and the Paraguayan national team before retiring from football on the bench of Elche.
He spent his final years in Barcelona as active as ever. Playing with Barça veterans, helping his teammates, not having a no for anyone and playing tennis every day or going for a run or cycling routes exhibiting an enviable physical condition.
Until the light of genius and the glory faded away 18 years ago. A degenerative brain disease put an end to the adventure, but not to the legend of a world football myth. An icon that changed the lives of so many people that they wouldn't fit even in a stadium.
The coffin with the mortal remains of Kubala was carried on shoulders, amidst the applause of the fans who gathered at the doors of the church of Santa Tecla, by Alfredo Di Stéfano, Gustau Biosca, Eduardo Manchón, Estanislao Basora, Joan Segarra, Josep Bartomeu, Luis Suárez, Antoni Ramallets and Gonzalvo III.
He rests in the cemetery of Les Corts, next to the Camp Nou because that is what he left written in his will, while Serrat sang to him about how...
...Pelé was Pelé and Maradona was the one and that's it. Di Stéfano was a pit of mischief. Honour and glory to those who made the sun shine on our football. Everyone has his merits; to each his own, but for me none is like Kubala. Respectable silence is requested, for those who haven't enjoyed him, I'll say four things: he stops it with his head, he drops it on with his chest, he sleeps it off with his left, crosses the pitch with the ball attached to the boot, leaves the midfield and enters the box showing the ball, hides it with his body, pushes with his ass and gets in with his heels. He pisses on the centerback with a dedicated piece. and touches her gently to put her on the path to glory.

by Santi Gimenez for AS.com (2020)

submitted by HippoBigga to Barca [link] [comments]

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