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The Cup of Success
by Amit Parmessur

I just didn’t know the revelation in my latest press conference would create such a commotion in the NBA world. I’ve only reinforced the idea that I am the perfect embodiment of contrariness, which is getting more marked as I reach an age fit to stay at home to run after my toddling grandchildren.

I just revealed the root of my philosophies, how I wouldn’t be the manager I am today were it not for my upbringing in a small Amsterdam pub. I’m all down to the simple fact that my father ran a pub and as a silly kid I was subjected to the endless drunken drooling and rantings of his clientele.

Juggling glasses from table to table I would listen to their meticulous discussions on formations about the local town team, promptly realizing the best course of action was to do the exact opposite of what the drunkards suggested. Throughout my managerial career this has been my sole methodology.

Now people have understood why I’m a man passionately opposed to alcohol, a successful foreign manager seeing absolutely no profit in an athlete touching that worthless liquid. The press funnily now considers me as a terrorist brought up by pacific parents, or an atheist brought up by ardent missionaries.

Witnessing people gulping death at a tender age also explains why I’m exceedingly against retirement. Like a couple of my aging rivals I’ve decided I’m not going to surrender. As long as my health allows me, I shall carry on. The joke is going around that even if my eyesight declines to the point I can no longer even see my own team winning I’m here to stay. I love that joke.

History barely counts in sports. Criticism has it that my team is losing stylishly nowadays. Why should I spend the club’s money unnecessarily when I still believe home-grown talents have the same match-winning qualities as the foreign finished article? Certainly I have won so much during a decade for this club that no one will dare move me out before I decide to call it a day.

I’m not stubborn. It’s just unfortunate that a two-year lack of silverware has quickly made people forget that I’ve won so much following the same principles. Winning is everything in sports, I haven’t yet forgotten this. Those who are convinced I’m passed it and I have already said my last word let me politely tell them I haven’t yet spoken my first words. I’m ready to share a drink with them, provided they let me foot the bill.

95 percent of the country’s clubs would murder to have me at the helm, for those who are not statistically up-to-date. I myself don’t have the faintest intention of stepping away. Not even the bravest soul at my club would ship me away. My detractors would better head to the nearest bar. At least that way they know they won’t see my face for a while.

The coming season shall be mine.