How Manchester United Helped Yoosof Farah Overcome His Problems

(Photo by Jamie McDonald/Getty Images)

To quote the famous Bob Marley: "Don't worry about a thing, 'cos every little thing is gonna be alright."

These words couldn't be any more appropriate than on Sunday, April 19, 2009, where Manchester United took on Everton in the semifinal of the FA Cup.

Despite seeing my team Manchester United lose on penalties, and have their hopes of an unprecedented quintuple evaporate into thin air, from the game at Wembley Stadium I experienced an epiphany.

For the first time, I realised the true power of football. For the entire 90 minutes and the 30 minutes of extra time, all my troubles were gone.

These have been troubles that for the past week have plauged my life.

One, my uncle suffered a stroke last Thursday. I will not write down his condition as it'll push my troubles deeper.

Two, I have that clichéd pressure of exams coming up soon to add on to what has happened to my uncle. My mother expects me to do well; my father demands success. It's like Brazilian midfielder Anderson when he took the last and decisive penalty in the 2009 Carling Cup Final. He had a considerable amount of pressure on him then.

Three, girl problems. Little Yoosof broke up with his sweetheart of four years; in other words, he split up with his girlfriend he had been with for four years, something he never ever wanted to happen.

Back to first-person narrative, and four, I've had connections with my life-long friend Pedro Gonzalez severed. Pedro is upset at me and I cannot calculate why. The man that has been like a brother to me for 11 years has gone as far as saying he hates me.

It's a bitter pill to swallow, almost like for the French in the 2006 FIFA World Cup Final, where Zinedine Zidane infamously got sent-off and France went on to lose the most prestigious trophy in the world's greatest sport, football.

The above are troubles that have plagued me for the past week, or an eternity it has seemed like, and have been like a spectre lurking not at the back, but the very front and most conscious part of my mind.

I just couldn't find a cure for my problems, until the events at Wembley Stadium on Sunday were shown to the world.

I can't generalise the cure to sport in general, and I'll tell you why.

I'm an avid Formula One fan, and after going out on Friday and Saturday nights and coming back into the unsocial hours of the morning, I am always determined to get up early and limit myself to two or three hours sleep in the night, so I can watch the Grand Prix live from wherever the far-flung exotic place it's at this time.

But after watching the 2009 Chinese Grand Prix in Shanghai, that spectre lurking in my mind would not go away.

What if my uncle dies? Is it my fault? Did I not pray to God enough? God, what have I done wrong?

My exams are coming up soon. I haven't revised enough, I know I haven't! Yoosof you fool, enjoy life on the streets...

Why? Just why? What have I ever done to make her feel that way?

After all I've done for him, after all we've been through over the years, is this really the end? He's been like a brother to me, and he hates me! God, I swear I've done nothing wrong, honestly.

These thoughts are all that dominated my conscious mind watching the F1 this morning.

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