Portsmouth Away (New Years Eve)

Alright, alright.

First of all I want to wish everyone a Happy New Year. I hope all your celebrations went well and you are looking forward to the fun of the weekend. My celebrations will be tame by virtue of falling ill once again with a cold. Figures, the last day of the year, I spend half of it in bed. However, the second half is proving to be more of the usual show.

(I believe it was the shot of Brugal in the tea.)

Quick reminder, for those who are coming. Station (my band) is playing the Sidebar on the 2nd. I hope that you all can make it out, but if not, so be it.

So Portsmouth, a team I actually feel kind of bad for, is having tons of issues both on and off the pitch. I hope they can get it together. Here is to wishing Pompey a better new year and to a great escape out of relegation.

I remember, fondly, Leeds dropping... dropping... dropping and I really didn't care too much. They, well didn't deserve to drop, but I had no real feelings for it either way. Portsmouth on the other hand I have a soft spot for.

Play up Pompey. Play up!

So shall I do a quick look back? Well not really, nothing exciting is happening. I started this blog on a whim, well a well thought out whim. I felt like there were stories from a supporter's perspective that needed to be told. We all hear about this player and that, this coach and that, but we seem to forget about what makes the teams keep going.

They cynic in me would say, the all mighty pound, dollar, euro or what have you. In essence though, the bare bottom of it, is heart. Now I sound like one of the Cantona Joga Bonito adverts.



The fact of the matter is, if there wasn't this heart, passion or rabid spirit for these teams/leagues. There would be no teams/leagues. For comparison, while the MLS is still a toddler there is not as much support, even in comparison to say Coca Cola division 2. Better yet, let's talk about the defunct NASL.

The NASL had names with star power, even changed some of the rules to accommodate the masses, however it did not enjoy the same support as some of the European and South American leagues and teams. It's this support, the cogs in the wheel that keep things going.

The only time you hear about supporters of proper football, it is usually in the light of "hooliganism" reported by some short-sighted journo who needs a story before their deadline. While I'm not against like minded individuals stomping the shit out of each other on a Saturday afternoon. I am against the over-simplification and denegration of the wide range of supporters that do exist.

This is why I do this blog. Hopefully someone will stumble across it and it will open their eyes and they will go "Hey, this doesn't seem all that bad Martha." They will come to understand that because someone puts on a kit and scarf and sings mildly offensive songs at the top of their lungs at 9 AM on a Saturday morning, that they are not bad people or even miscreants or soccer hooligans, as a woman put it to me a few seasons ago.

Well here's to a new decade and hopefully an excellent finish to an already surprising EPL season. I hope to see those that are near soon and those that are far, some time later.

Bonne Annee

~LeChat

Villa at Home (and other holiday stuff.. so it is long)

Alright, here we go. I was debating on whether I should start this from mid-week or not. I decided, probably against my better intuition, why not... funny things did happen. So grab a cup of tea and some warm slippers.

Christmas Eve-Eve

The night prior my old indoor friends were looking for people to fill in for their match at local indoor arena. I had nothing better to do so figured I would make an appearance and run around a bit. I jotted out a quick, "I'll be there," and that was done.

After work, I decided it would be best for me not to travel all the way to the homestead and go have some food and drinks at one of the fine establishments between the arena and work. I made some calls and met up with ChelskiGirl for a couple. She was filling me in on her trip, since I hadn't heard anything from her since she had returned.

Somewhere along the second cocktail or so, a bright idea came across to go see this Polish Christmas Carole Parade. We met up with a couple of her friends and ended up amongst a mob of Polish/Semi-Polish or whatever. There was a truck pulling a guy with an accordian, a drummer with a full drum set and a couple of horn players.

I mean it had to have been well over 100 people all massed on Broadway singing Jingle Bells. When we got up there with the santa hat wearing friends, it was just in time for the critical mass to begin its movement.

Things to note: Christmas Eve Eve was bloody cold, well bloody cold to be walking around and caroling. I just wanted a beer. Apparently, there are other people who really like this sort of thing. Correction: A shit ton of people who like said thing.

That's me hiding my face with one of the Santa Hat wearing friends.

Well after following the procession around for five more minutes, ChelskiGirl and I ducked out to her other place of employment to imbibe in some Chocolate Stouts. It was just the thing needed for a cold winter night.

My infinite wisdom, having about 3 of these Stouts, was in a mood to go play some football. I was tip top as they say. I make it to the arena and play had already started. I changed into the old uniform, felt good, made my way to the floor and hopped on as a sub. Less than 1 minute on, the other team wanted me to change, for kit clashing. The ref was even a little confused and whispered a comment as such.

Being the uniformly anal person I am about my kits, I put on the other black one, without the white fade and all was good. There's not much to mention of the game. I stumbled around for a bit, shoved a couple of people but didn't gain any cards.

I was having a good time though, so I hope I can fill in some other time. My ankle didn't even bother me, which is always double plus good. Now if I could only get the defense to pump the ball forward to me, then maybe I could have one of my little cheeky goals that I like.

On the way home, in my mind... I started calling randomly selected people from my phone. I still don't know why. A Certain Scouser was the unlucky one who answered. We talked for a bit, apparently she was in Buffalo robbing houses or something. That's all I can really remember her saying and something about not driving crazy, still unsure on that last part.

Actual Christmas Eve

The day started out nice. I was surprised that my ankle wasn't giving it to me, which had me overjoyed. That evening, some of us were getting together for a Christmas Eve dinner. I was bringing the eggnog or so it had been decided over Chocolate Stouts the night before or somewhere along the line.

I will point out two cool things, besides giving ChelskiGirl her BFF mug, which was more embarrassing to buy than anything else. A big giant pink mug for my BFF, I know the girl at the register was thinking I had some issues. Well I did get this great Madness tea towel. I need to figure out where to put it, but that's the first cool thing.

Second cool thing was Birmingwho coming in late, a bit well for the wear. He offered some vodka that he had but there was less than a quarter of the bottle left. He was in rare form and kept saying "Arsenal are going to lose to Villa, you know that right." He must have repeated it like 5 times before knocking over several glasses of water and then passing out on the couch.

Christmas Day

Two words: BRUGAL RUM!

My Real (facist) loving cousin's wife had me in the family Christmas exchange. We cracked it open and had cuba libre's all afternoon. Beauty, eh?

Boxing Day!!! (St. Stephen's Day)

This has seriously become my favorite holiday, especially over the most recent years since you can get so many games on the satellite now. It's footballing heaven. Well, the Arsenal weren't playing til Sunday, due to whatever genius who created the schedule. However, the day did hold some nice points dropping surprises and a Scouser win. You don't see too many of those lately.

I just realized my speakers have gone to shit on my desktop. It took an Untouchables song to realize it. Hmm, surround sound here I come.



Boxing day had a weird non-influx of people. HalfArseDean pointed it out but I hadn't noticed. It was a significantly smaller crowd than in the past. Maybe the weather, maybe people traveling cause of the weekend being long but it still had an energy about it in my opinion.

I LOVE BOXING DAY!

St. John the Apostle's Day (otherwise known as the day after Boxing Day)

Did I ever tell you I love the Saint's calendar? It's a very interesting hodge podge of people who have been beatified. Now don't think I'm some over zealous religious nut but I do find the subject interesting to say the least. I blame it on Art History, you can't escape the subject.

The Arsenal were playing early, so as normal I did not go out late the night before. I make it into the pub to be greeted by an overly jovial GrumpyGooner. Well with a very loud, "Yah fahkin Cunt!"

His excuse is that he had been up all night, enjoying the life and got zero sleep. I do feel bad that his girl had to wake him up and drag his big ass down to the pub. GrumpyGooner was in rare form, even tried picking a fight with a 4 year old, who probably could have taken him in his state. The 4 year old was non-plussed to say the least. His mum is a Gooner, so she made sure GrumpyGooner didn't get the bottle to the head.

Well the pub Gooners are starting to have some injury woes as well, LilBlondieGooner broke her clavicle or something. She's in a brace, but seriously, don't help her cut her French Toast. She was about to stab NightCaller.

HalfArseDean wound her up a little bit as well. I thought she was going to have him. I thought they gave you pain medication to sedate you. I mean she's small and all, would figure she'd be half knocked out.

Bayern gave me a nice shirt. I felt kind of bad, cause as usual I was present-less. I just wanted to give a big hearty thanks mate and seriously...

Who the Fuck Are MAN UNITED?

I am going to give it to Hull, making them bastards work for their points. I just wanted them to drop two. I hadn't counted on a Hull win but it would have been nice. It would have been nice. It would have been nice. MancScum!

Oh and for those that read this and like American Football.

FUCK PITTSBURGH! FUCKING SCUM!

MONDAY (Sorry I am not looking up the Saint)

OK, I know it's not the day after but this is comedy gold, and I quote, The Guardian of course,...

Roberto Mancini, the new Manchester City manager, predicted his side could catch Chelsea at the top of the Premier League after their 3-0 defeat of Wolverhampton Wanderers maintained his immaculate start as Mark Hughes's replacement.

DUDE, you beat Wolves! Calm down. Calm Down.

Ciao
~LeChat

Hull at Home

This weekend I found myself stuck in quite a bit of snow. I would like to say it was about 12 inches on the ground before I even ventured out but I wouldn't be exactly truthful, as I didn't measure. I spent half the morning trying to order the game package from local cable company, to no avail.

Everyone was probably doubling up on some channels at the same time and I'm impatient when it comes to myself buying stuff. If I'm ready to buy, give me service and give it to me now. Otherwise, I am just window shopping so don't bother me.

I got a few messages from A Certain Scouser inquiring why I wasn't at the pub. My answer, of course was along the lines of, "Do you see all that snow on the ground?"

That went back and forth for a few moments, but basically I was stuck. One bad thing about living just outside the city, no way to get to the city. I could have tried to find a bus running or called a cab but it's not worth it. Most people in the general area don't know or simply can't understand the concept of driving in weather; snow, rain, fog, or otherwise. I'd rather take my chances on my own and decided it would better be spent doing fuck all.

Anyways, DJM told me to order by remote on my cable box. ALSO, to no avail... about this time I was purely frustrated with my local cable monopoly. I hopped onto Arsenal.com and forked over a few quid for ArsenalTV.

Have you ever felt like a junkie, needing to get your fix somehow? I even endured the early game on ESPN2 with Mr. ONION BAG Smyth. Now I was dropping my hard earned bucks on the choppy picture from Arsenal.com. It was like watching a slideshow with audio commentary, except with no "oops I didn't mean to snap a picture of that woman's bikini clad bottom" pictures.

By the way, some "Stephen Hunt" fan decided to take the piss out of me on my mobile as well. I still can't figure out who it is. I wish they would step forward before I start prank calling them from various other phones. So in short, Mr. or Ms. Stephen Hunt fan, HA fucking HA!

or as ChelskiGirl put it, "Hunt's a dirty cunt."

SUNDAY

Much of the same, absolutely nothing. I spent the good portion of the morning digging out from the 20 odd inches of snow in my backyard, plus the 50 foot of driveway. This is the one time I miss living in the condo, well this and the cats but that's a different story.

Luckily my RealMadrid loving cousin came out to assist and we ended up with a 3 man shovel brigade with the one kid up the street. I still owe that kid a couple of bucks, he worked like a "insert whatever cultural stereotype you would like" trying to "insert whatever direct object you think that above said stereotype would work very hard for or against."

Am I being PC? Not at all, just I have to many I can throw out there and I want to make sure I offend everyone equally. I have a long list of things but it doesn't matter. They are all bad.

ACMilan gives me a call about going stir crazy and that he was thinking of heading up to the pub. I let him know that I was worn out from all the shoveling, that being two long ass driveways and a couple of cars. At first, I thought I would make it out but my body hit the bed and the next thing I know it was once again dark outside.

I do love the snow, but I do love football in the pub, with my mates, much better.

~LeChat

Burnley Away

DRAW!

Yes I should pull out all my guns on this one. However, as usual, I was working, so I only saw replays. It is not like it matters much, because, from what I understand it was nothing.

I actually enjoy my job. So I really don't mind that I miss these mid-week fixtures at times. The one thing I can say is that my work is never boring. Most of my days, in general, end up in draws.

The crux of my employment is connecting low income people with pro-bono attorneys. While on the surface it doesn't sound hard but it is one of those things you have to experience.

Some of the folks that call in are pretty normal and just ran into a spot of bad luck, like losing to Sunderland. On paper, you should walk all over life but reality is, you dropped the points. You dropped points at the most inopportune time, for whatever reason.

You might blame it on the economy and not having enough to spend. You might blame it on not having the right tools to compete. In the end, it doesn't really matter because now you are in the situation that you are in and it's time to fix it.

Now the normal ones will say, "Hey, I just need a little help. I can get back in the game," or "If I can just get past this," or something along those lines. Those are the people that realize that most of their situation is combination of this bad luck, improper planning or simply being unrealistic and coming to terms with what needs to be done.

So, if that is normal, by my definition, then there must be a non-normal, or as I like to say KORAZIE. Fine, you got me, I've never said anything like that in my life before.

Now crazy comes in all kinds of flavors, just to keep it interesting. I wish I could break it down into digestible slices but at this time I don't think it's possible, but here are a few examples.

Tim "Fucking" Howard - Now Tim is not really crazy, on his own accord but he does suffer from Tourette's or so it's said. This means sometimes he has this little tick thing going on that he can't control. Now Tim Howard crazy is mild, not really his fault, just happens that way. This I feel for because there's not much you can do but deal with it in your own way. Plus, Tim Howard is still great because he knows what's going on and is working with it.

Jens "Mad German" Lehmann - Unpredictable crazy. Poor Jens, you never know what he's going to do next. First he's world class, the kind of bloke you would love to have a beer with, then... he's totally lost the plot, punching people in the face, swearing like an Austrian, drop kicking like an Angry Samoan. This is the kind of crazy I am terrified of because you never know when it's going to kick off.

Sepp Blatter - This is sort of an "out of touch" with reality crazy. Do I really need to explain this one? I mean the man just doesn't have a bloody clue. Typical politican. Another example of this would be Harry Rednapp, who insists that Scum will be a top 4 club. Crazy innit.

Arsene Wenger - I love Arsene. He's one of the best managers around, but you know sometimes, just sometimes, his paranoia even gets to me. I like talking to this type of crazy when they call into my work. As long as you aren't the one who is the "cause" of their issues, they can bring some interesting insights to what is usually just routine to every one else. I welcome this crazy.

The Whole of WALES - Yah, you're not really a real country. Pure delusional, sorry, it's not going to happen, just deal with it and speaking in foreign tongues does you no service. That's like hanging out with Tolkein elves at Ren-fest, just deluded. No one wants to understand you anyways.

Beckham - Another type of delusional. Constantly told he's great and a superstar but when reality comes knocking, he hasn't produced in quite some time. When he does produce, then maybe we can call him great, but until that time, you're not really that good or as good as you used to be. Get used to it.

The list, as I said, can go on and on. I didn't even approach the whole Bellamy thing. However, like I said, just a sampling of the types of crazy I have to deal with on a regular basis.

Anyways, here is to hoping that the wintry mix doesn't ruin a footballers weekend.

~LeChat

Liverpool Away

What a glorious weekend! I will admit my memory of certain said events have faded due to the Sunday Funday Good Luck Day of events that transpired. However I believe I should keep this in some kind of chronological format.

Saturday

I found myself putting up the lights for Christmas, one of my least favorite activities. I really don't see much point in it anymore, they're just stupid little lights. Maybe it is others that find this to be of some enjoyment, personally I feel it's an act of futility.

However, the fact of the matter is that I need to play nice to keep a roof over my head and not pay rent. So, my Saturday was to be spent putting up these bloody lights and sitting around in my room playing video games.

Yes, this was my big plan. I am not that interesting of a person. Give me a web connection and a fast computer and I will hole up for days living off of microwave meals, coffee and other refreshing beverages.

Fine, I will leave out for some Chick-fil-a or to get more beer/rum/grey goose.

I am about to settle in and then I get the miracle text -
(by the way I apparently can't spell miracle correctly in 3 tries)

10.56AM ChelskiGirl: Well this isn't good. Angry Chelsea fans.

My interest is peaked. I realized I hadn't looked at any scores at this time. I had just got in from hanging the lights and was just settling down in my chair for a day of gaming fun.

10.57AM LeChat: Oh Yah?

I hop on the laptop, click click click, Guardian football scores.
CONFIRMED! Chelski was bottling it big time against Everton. Which serves ChelskiGirl right for going to London and seeing Madness.

There is a GOD and he/she/it loves the Arsenal.

I dropped whatever it was that I was planning, put my shoes, coat and gloves back on and headed towards the promised land, or as I call it the pub.

11.08AM ChelskiGirl: Sad quiet and grunting

All I can say is that I made it to the pub in record time. Schumacher would have been proud. I walked in just as the second half was starting and IrishDave is giving it up big time to the ChelskiBoys. I got a few glaring but welcoming nods and I think someone may have told me to go home. I just smiled and found a spot to watch the dismantling of the glorious Chelski at the hands of a mid-table Everton.

11.18AM LeChat: hehe

Chelski scores one shortly into the second. The Boys were doing their little dance and song. I quietly vowed to myself not to come down for any more Chelski games, since it must be me who is giving them luck.

11.22AM ChelskiGirl: Better now!

At this point in time, I am figuring this will just end up being another shit weekend. I got my hopes up only to have them shattered, once again. Then in the glory of a once most hated and now semi-liked striker who shall go by the name of SAHA. Saha salvation is now upon us in 4 minutes.

11.26AM LeChat: Yes much better

11.27AM ChelskiGirl: Fuck you

Such harsh words. I, however, was more than content with the draw. I couldn't help but not wipe the Chesire grin off my face. The ChelskiBoys for the most part consigned themselves to the result as we all focused on bewitching the MancScum.

Word around the pub about this time is that Wolves had stuffed Scum, 1-Nil. ManShitty, which had a small vocal crowd in the back section had also drawn to Bolton.

Quick note: There was a random Scum supporter. I hadn't really been paying attention but assumed he was ManShitty from the bluish colour of his kit. He mentioned something about covering it up. I looked at him after he had pulled his jacket closed and said something to the effect of Bolton being a tough team.

He chuckled nervously and said "OH, no, we lost to Wolves," then showed me the badge.

I laughed, "Ha! Fucking scum deserved it."

We spoke a little bit about league positions and then he had to leave. I took the table he was sitting at, just to have a good view of the televisions and optimum abuse hurling positioning.

There was actually a good number of United supporters. HalfArseDean and I were making comments how the one guy looked like the blonde kid from the Karate Kid movie. This led to several movie quotes between the two of us and the Sheriff.


Villa go up with the Agbonlahor strike and I kid you not, more than half the pub started cheering. However, it was a nervous second half. MancScum has the ability to turn a 1-nil first half into a 1-4 second half rather quickly or as ChelskiGirl put it, "London is waiting with baited breath... VillaVillaVilla."

To add to my mood, the fat C*nt Rooney gets a card for diving. I felt like I was in an alternate universe. I think everyone did, about fucking time.

The second half seemed to drag on forever and 3 days. When it was all said and done and the final whistle was blown, the scoreline stood. One Nil to the Villa!

I found the exit, as I had plenty to do and didn't want to kill my bank account before the Scouser match on Sunday.

SUNDAY SUNDAY SUNDAY!

Live at the pub, Thames Street, Baltimore.

In this corner, wearing the red. The Red tide of money snatching, granny mugging, hubcap robbing, ice pick striking northern bastards.... SCOUSERS!

In the opposite corner, wearing the away blue. The youthful and rather short side, visiting from the beautiful Ashburton Grove, North London... The Royal ARSENAL!

For those who don't know, well if you are reading this, you probably do know, that Gunner-Scouse fixtures are a big deal, no matter when they come on the calendar. They are akin to any of the big 4 meetings, more respectful and sporting than say a Gunner-MancScum fixture and less one-sided than Gunner-Scum fixtures.

Ahh, I remember the snatching the league at Anfield, 1989.
10 minutes for you to enjoy. A moment I can relive over and over.
Thank GOD for YouTube, seriously.



I appeared at the pub early, to get some breakfast in and find a good seat, as I expected the Red Scouse Tide to takeover the pub, as usual. HalfArseDean had beaten me there and I settled down at the booth with him.

It was actually quite quiet for some time. WestsideScouser came in shortly after and grabbed the small table where he's usually sitting. We all joked around for a bit, no one really expecting anything to happen.

WestsideScouser was telling us about one of the ChelskiBoys that he's good friends with. Apparently, he takes quite some time getting all primmed up before he comes out. I vow to start calling him Girlfriend from now on.

WestsideScouser agrees that it is spot on. Girlfriend shows up about 10 minutes after, and is greeted by his new nickname, taking it in stride like a good woman should.

He's always quick on the quips anyways so he gives it as much as he takes it. Hmm, talking about a ChelskiBoy like that makes me feel kind of gross.

Gooners started coming in about 30 minutes before kick off, Scousers seemed to be running late. It was really odd. However, the usuals were in place. GrumpyGooner, HalfArseDean, LilBlondieGooner, Nightcaller, Bistroboys(Yes, some have come back and I know they probably hate that I refer to them that way but I never have been to the Bistro, they have) and several others.

A good Arsenal showing I must say. We understand the importance of every point at this point in the season. It has come to a do or die situation and with the results from Saturday, now we have the drivers seat.

Scousers were still a little thin. A Certain Scouser hadn't even showed up. The Librarian had sent out a text with no response. MancDJ had also popped in looking for her as well. Time was counting down and I have to admit I was a bit surprised she hadn't shown up, so I called.

No answer. Very odd but I figured she was being her usual self, whatever that is. I swear the girl has multiple personality disorder but I'm going to leave it at that. I think she would swear to it as well.

All in all it was a decent game, with a semi-decent gathering. I got really angered by the first Scouse goal and paced all over the place during the half-time break. I knew the weekend had gone too well and the Arsenal had bottled it, like everyone else.

Then lo and behold, like the savior he did not wish to become, Glen Johnson (own goal). Followed by the beauty and precision of a finely tuned automobile, er... Russian fashion designer, Yes! Little Arshavin puts in the most beautiful goal that I have witnessed in ages.

Overjoyed does not describe the feelings that yours truly had at the moment. HalfArseDean was there to whisper "Calm down, Calm down," to me just because it wasn't over yet. Let's just see it was a good finish.

2 crucial goals at Anfield, 20 years and 6 1/2 months later.

After the match, most of the crowd dispersed. Happy Gooners, disappointed Scousers and the few random usuals hanging about. MiniMourhino, Sheffield, ACMilan, LilBlondieGooner, NightCaller and myself hung around for a bit. DoratheExplorer joined us for a bit, which is always a fun time.

NightCaller and I decided to give ScouseDrummer some abuse. I dialed his number and before a word could be spoken he answered. FUCK OFF!

You got to love your mates, even if they are Scouse.

Our little crowd, with the encouragement of Irish started doing football chants during the Ravens game. It was pretty hilarious. The normals who had come in, either laughed or looked in pure shock at us. Someone commented "Isn't their game over?", which was promptly followed by It's ARSELOBA LALALALALA!

Some abuse was hurled around and a lot of laughter. One couple after a rather course round of abuse between myself and Irish decided they had enough, quickly paid their tab and fucked off. We all knew it was a small victory and laughed amongst ourselves.

All good things must come to an end. I agreed to take NightCaller and LilBlondieGooner up to NightCaller's restaurant. LilBlondie and I sat and ate some food that NightCaller had prepared for us. Good times!

By the way, spot on suggestion on the meal NightCaller! Cheers!

I headed back to my hovel, satiated and in a brilliant mood. A great weekend with good mates and wonderful results all around.

It's AR-SE-LO-BA LALALALALALA! ARSELOBA FC! The greatest team that no one has ever seen!

~LeChat

Midweek - Radio Show - Olympiakos Away (CL)

Same day post, now what do we owe this pleasure?

Well, to be honest, it's a post the day after the remote broadcast from the pub. Which I must say was an interesting little happening. I'll take a moment to mention the Champions League in brief because really not much happened from the Arsenal point of view.

The Arsenal fielded a young side and took a reasonable loss. The scoreline justly reflects that. Of course, I am only going off of highlight reels and not the whole match. However, what is slightly more interesting is the Scousers fell once again. It is really not their year. I would say my heart goes out to that lot but I wouldn't really be sincere with it at this time.

Radio...... life transmission.....

As many of you may or may not know, one of the local sports shows decided to do a remote broadcast from the pub. The focus was on the World Cup draw and impressions from some of the pundits and players, more like two or three. Little to my knowledge, the extremely talkative Manc chap who was at Grant Wahl's reading was the radio host.

Early Monday evening, SlainteLOSC was sending me messages about this thing. Apparently there was an FB invite to it but I don't recall ever receiving it. I agreed to show up, just to represent and see what was really happening.

After work on Tuesday, I head over to the pub. The downstairs was bare, maybe 2 or 3 random people but nothing exciting. I take a few moments to harass Little sister and say hey to Bridge then head up.

Little sister was warning me that they all looked like skinheads. I laughed and said they were probably all balding and shaved the rest off to look cool. She wasn't convinced, so I started singing some lines from some random old school dirty reggae song as I headed upstairs.

Exactly as expected, just a couple of random guys. I immediately recognized the talkative Manc and put it all together about him hosting the radio show. Part of me knew how this was going to play out but I would endure it either way.

Manager in Black came over and was talking me up to the TalkativeManc. We nodded and he asked if I had any questions for Alexi Lalas. I bit my tongue and just said no but I was thinking "What the fuck would I ask that dude a question for?"

Yes I am being nice today, can you tell?

It was more interesting that Grant Wahl was going to be there. I'll say it again, very cool guy. Now if I had a question to ask, that is the man to ask the questions.

Grant came in and talked to me for a bit about the Arsenal. TalkativeManc came over and started yapping his ear off. I will say Grant is a patient man. They went over to the broadcast set up to begin the show and go over some of the talking points.

I took a seat at the bar, SlainteLOSC joined me and we perused some scores from Europa and he gave me a little jibe about Lyon losing to Lille. The Manager in Black sat on the other side of me just as the show began.

The first bit was a little interesting, however the three stooges began our own conversation. All I can remember is there was a discussion about the Revolutionary War, Lafayette, and something about how come the French got their asses kicked by the English.

My response -> We did not cheat. followed by a Gallic shrug.

Somehow, I hope none of that got picked up on the mics. The show continued, one of the DC United players was on for a bit, talking about things and then some more commercial breaks. Grant and TalkativeManc, with his sidekick, got into a decent discussion about the African teams.

HOWEVER, after the 10th commercial break, they had to start talking about American Football, to keep their numbers up, or so they say. I really think there needs to be a proper football show, if you are going to call yourself a sports radio station.

One show where it is on target, that would help raise the level of interest. People just aren't exposed to the beautiful game like they should be and when they are, it's by some semi-supporter of (insert the club everyone supports). It gives a very skewed vision of the dynamics that reside in the game and within the greater culture surrounding the game.

So, there were like about 20 people scattered around the pub, they all converged for the Ravens segment, like flies to shit. It was really odd. SlainteLOSC and myself moved to the corner by the bar supplies and talked about the crowd. We also decided to stack a bunch of the kiddie cups and thought of other ways to entertain ourselves at the expense of others.

Final segment was with the gentleman from the Baltimore Brigade. One of the US supporters club that is based in Baltimore, of course. I bet you had trouble figuring that one out. They are trying to connect with one of the national groups, forget which one but it's not Sam's Army.

So the broadcast ends and that is my cue to head home. Like I said, it was interesting and now I understand why TalkativeManc is the way he is. I don't think he has an off button.

They are planning on doing some more remote broadcasts closer to WC2010, so we will see.

Final Note

I actually failed in my radio bombing. The only thing I really did was yell WOOOO really obnoxiously whenever they mentioned pub on the air. I know, not exciting, should have broken into some vulgar football songs and see how many F-words I could get away with before being carded.

Such is my life!

~LeChat

Stoke at Home *yawn*

The fine month of Decembre rolls in with out much a hitch. I guess the small exception of the left over funk that I have been in, hangover from last month. I won't dwell on the negatives though. Positive thoughts, positive actions.

Who the hell am I kidding?

Saturday

Let's start this out properly by saying there are better things to watch than Pompey v. Burnley, but then I'd be lying. I made it down for at least the second half if my memory serves correctly. I wasn't in much of a hurry to catch the beginning but it was nice to see Pompey deliver some points.

There is something about that club that I like. I don't know what IT is though.

I also don't know if it is the holidays or what lately. The pub has been a little thinner crowd wise. I think I may have mentioned this before but it may have just been the games being shown.

Since, Scousers were on the big screen, I went to the Arsenal section. Yes, the official Arsenal section, in the back with the big comfy booths and the small telly that sits at an angle. It has a certain quaintness about it, if you ask me. I know some will disagree but honestly I don't give a fuck what they think.

My blog, my opinion. Piss off.

The Arsenal section, believe it or not, was more abuzz with WC2010 conversations than actual paying attention to game. It wasn't that exciting of a tie. The Gunners just aren't about playing their usual beautiful football lately. Quite depressing when you really think about when it is all clicking together.

At one point in time, we were trying to pull up the groups. For some reason my phone, which has been crappy ever since the new WinMobile came out, wasn't able to pull anything worthwhile across. ChiTownGooner pulls out her I-phone and started trying to locate it as well. She kept pulling up articles related to people's opinions on the draw and not the actual draw itself.

Finally, I mentioned that the FIFA site should have it. I still don't know why we were looking in other places for it. Anyways, after searching for about 10 minutes, TheFlanneledGooner says, "OH we found out what we were looking for, just wanted to see how long it would take you guys."

Yah, thanks mate.

The other portion of time spent in the Arsenal section was trying to pull off the best imitations of ManCity himself. The more Chelski supporters that started arriving, the more we started bellowing out "CITEEEEHHHHH!"

I believe B-boy started that but it was fun to say the least. So ManCity, we of the Arsenal section salute you. At least when you're playing Chelski and MancScum and proper Scum. I don't really know about other times.

OH and by the way, I do not look like SWP.

Now for the fun!

Chelski, HAHAHA, you bitches loss to City.

The only bad part is the solid drubbing that MancScum gave to WestHam. It was interesting to see as many WestHam supporters as MancScum.

Ah, I remembered there was a positive to all this... ChelskiGirl being the good friend she is, downloaded some Madness for me and put it on a CD. It's good to have a thoughtful friend, who is still trying to bribe me.

However, with every positive there is a negative. I made the mistake of trying to wind up SlainteLOSC and paid for it. O'Lyon took a shot to the head and were deflated by Lille. This was made very clear on my FB page.

After the Chelski game, I had to break out west to attend my littlest cousin's Princess Party. Let me tell you, it is an odd feeling going from pub to hanging out with family and trying to keep it all under your hat, so to speak.

It was a nice little soiree but the lure and drag of more football being shown was pulling me back towards the pub. Alright it was a call from ACMilan who was watching the Italian Oscars by himself. I headed down and kept him company for a bit before turning in for the evening.

Sunday

I had a rather sour morning. I learned that depending on people to do things is something that I am at fault at and should not set myself up for that kind of disappointment. Anyways enough about all that noise cause it has nothing to do with football at all.

However, ChelskiGirl had my CD all done and I was to meet her down for the second half of the Everton-Scum game. The Scum had a 2-nil lead at one point and the one Yid who looks like he'd kill you if given half a chance was down at the opposite end of the bar.

All I remember hearing was something about how the Scum would be in 3rd above the Arsenal. It is not something I like to hear on a Sunday morning. Mind you, I am sure this guy is a nice enough bloke but we have never said two words to each other. I am not sure if it's because of our allegiances or just, who the fuck am I kidding?

So 1 Yid and 1 Toffee are sitting there, plus myself and ChelskiGirl who believes throwing a CD at me is the best way to greet me. It was a Madness CD so all is forgiven on that account.

Now, like I said I was having a shit day to begin with and watching the fucking Scum being up 2-nil was not making it much better. I took a deep breath and was about to begin resigning myself and the Arsenal to fourth.

But, OH how does the patience pay off for M. LeChat?

Yakuba and Saha, my new best mates.. oh and Timmy "FUCKING" Howard, saving against the Defoe penalty. Saha with what would have been Goal of the Year had he scored it and a reignited Everton squad dismantling Good Ol'Arry's piece of shit SCUM!

So all in all the Sunday turned out so-so.

Shyte morning with slight downpour followed by the glorious sun arising and drying everything out. Itsy-Bitsy spider climbing the bloody fahkin rain spout.

And a Madness CD!

~LeChat

Midweek - ManCity Away (Carling Cup)

I am out of witticisms like the Arsenal in the Milk Cup. Lately writing these blogs have been a great chore. I don't mean like washing dishes or mopping the floor. I am talking about stripping the walls, putting on a base coat and then covering that with a nice warm red currant with gold accents. I can't even make it pretty anymore.

A week or so ago, I didn't feel up to doing a mid-week. It didn't really matter much anyways but A Certain Scouser reminded me of it. I don't know whether to damn her for actually pointing out the fact or thank her for actually being an avid follower.

I know I've strayed from my usual blogginess as well, for that I do apologize but November is a not so good month for me traditionally. I can't even blame it on the form of my beloved Arsenal but on more personal matters that I don't really care to go into on such a public forum.

So, lets take a little time and reflect on the recent past and look at what lies in the near future. It's December now, so we can do that whole Charles Dickens Christmas Tale type of thing.

Past or as I like to call it, November and before

The outrage over a certain HANDsome gentleman and his marvelous skills lending a HAND to a lackluster display by LesBleus. I really like how this seems to be the main focus of everything with the world cup, never mind the band of marauding Gibbons or whatever that are terrorizing South Africa right now.

Despite that everything about the pub has been pretty much status quo; too many Scousers, not enough MANCScum, One very enthusiastic ManShitty supporter and a couple of his friends... and the Chelski lads with all their phones on vibrate.

LoudmouthGooner has gone missing, possibly found the Bistro, not that I care but it is interesting. What is more interesting is the number of Bistro boys that end up at the pub anyways since they want to see some other game.

Present (like the last week or so)

I had the great pleasure of watching American College Football with T-Bone, Grubbs and MiniMourhino at an undisclosed location just outside of the Point. I have to admit I have never seen T-Bone so ramped up over anything. It was a serious twilight zone moment.

And I quote, "RUN MOTHERFUCKER RUN!"

I discovered in order to make me not hate her for going to London/Dublin as well as going to see Madness, ChelskiGirl can be really nice. I know that you have been bribing me but it's all good. Cheers! Have a good trip!



Love that song.

FUTURE (December and Beyond)

I do look forward to Boxing Day. I don't know why but it's just a thing that I always look forward to, as far as football goes. I am not even sure what the ties are that day.

Oh to rewind a bit, ACMilan sent me a text about the pots being chosen for WC2010. I think FIFA has a good system for it but I really don't like the pot system to begin with. I like complete randomness. However, like he said, it will be very interesting to see how things work out.

The Guardian ran an article about how there will be a serious group of death this time, if the balls bounce the right way. My only hope is that with all the controversy and conspiracy theories that...

1. France makes it out of the Group stage;
2. England does not go out on penalties, and;
3. South Africa (as a country) does not have any major problems with crime, government collapsing, marauding wild animals or any of the other things that might otherwise distract the rest of the world from the beautiful game.

On a more personal note:

My glorious musical group will be playing a couple of shows at the Sidebar. So mark your calendars friends or enemies and come out for a night of angry music.

January 2, 2010 - it's a week after Boxing Day!

Here's to hoping the train gets back on track and see you all at the pub.

SALUT!

~LeChat

An Open Letter. (Chelsea at HOME)

To the team I love,

It has come to my attention that my affections and prayers that I have sent out to you have now been returned in a manner not much unlike the days of the past. Unrequited I sit here, staring blankly into space at the disastrous lapse or shall I say unfortunate misjudgment beneath the hands of the BlueScum.

At first, I could feel the utter disappointment when you faltered and let the candy cane stripped Sunderland have a few cheap feels. I shrugged and declared that you must have been drunken from the previous international foray. This, I concede, is not unusual for yourself.

I will also admit that this time of year usually produces a string of disappointments, especially in recent years, concerning our relationship. Whatever you may call it, I have accepted it in the past. It is just Arsenal being Arsenal, and loved you no matter what minor indiscretions that November wrought upon us.

Why is it that November is such a hard month for us?

I know I know, you have always come back around by Boxing day but I walk through the whole month a hollow shell of myself. Wanting, desiring, impatiently biding my time when I can celebrate a complete month of you not just being you but being the Arsenal that I know you can be.

Yes. It is a tough life loving you but it's been twenty odd years now.

I remember our younger days. A double here, a league cup there, dropping points to teams that have come and gone. And recent times, remember that run of unbeaten games that was horribly undone by an ogre named Rooney and his accomplice Riley.

Oh those were wonderful times.

Now you know I will be with you forever. It is a promise I made to you a long time ago on a warm spring day from three thousand miles away. It is a promise I will keep.

So no matter what Arsenal. I LOVE YOU!

~LeChat

Sunderland Away

This is going to be quick and painless. I am none too happy about the results this weekend at all. NONE.

My first inclination was to avoid writing about anything pertaining to Saturday, but then I thought better.

SATURDAY

The usual suspects abound. I made it down to the pub for the ManShitty - Scousers tie and was bored. Not even a slight bit of excitement. *sigh*

Then the Arsenal match. Watching Nightcaller get drunk and still being pissed about a dubious hand ball was more exciting than the match. Let's just say the chants of Boring Boring Arsenal seemed more appropriate than ever.

I was actually so annoyed and bored. I left during the middle of the MancScum game. I think Saturday was the worst day in a long time. The only thing that kept me from going insane was the usual suspects.

It's always good to have a few good mates around. Especially when it rains the shit cloud of boredom that Saturday had become.

UGH I WANT TO STAB MY EYES OUT!

SATURDAY NIGHT

Boredom turned to anger froth and venom. I had to deal with the local cable company and their shenanigans for half the night. I decided it was better for me to avoid any and all groups of people trying to have a good time.

SUNDAY

The sun came out. I decided against my better judgment to head down to the pub and watch the Italian Oscars with ACMILAN. I had nothing better to do.

Now here is the WHAT THE HELL moment for the week. I was actually entertained by Italian football. WHAT? Yah I know. After watching the boring draws on Saturday I was thinking of quitting. Never watching another game again.

Bonus Feature: ACMilan is celebrating his win, mind you, we are the only two in the pub really watching the game. A bunch of normals are sitting around at the various tables, grazing on their morning meals.

ACMilan is clapping, turns around and tells everyone to join in because Milan just won. I jest not. The whole pub was clapping in unison to the win. I believe one person even inquired about why they were clapping. It was a bright spot on the day.

Afterwards, I bought some pants. They are very nice pants.

Yah this is short. I am not recounting anything else. I am still bored, angered and disappointed in this weekend. Not for my friends, mind you not, but for the stupidity of the football media. Hell the stupidity of the media in general.

*sigh*

Dreaming of a time when Irish people and French people can walk hand in hand together.

~LeChat

Allez Les Bleus! - Midweek WC2010 qualifier

Well, where to begin? Where to begin?

As many of you already know, there was a sleight of hand that allowed Les Bleus to go through. There are arguments about how the game should be replayed, about how Henry has tainted his soul and the such. I think what everyone is truly forgetting here, being a voice of reason, is that it is FOOTBALL!

We know this game. We love this game. We hate this game. We take this game out for dinner, grope it in the backseat and do that thing we are not suppose to do, then profess we didn't mean to do it this time and later that evening tell it about how sexy it's younger sister is in that mini-skirt she wore at Christmas last year.

See that is what the handball is, telling the love of your life how hot the younger sister is in the mini-skirt. Yes it may be true but no you really shouldn't say things like that. Sometimes you get lucky and end up in a threesome, however most of the time it is a right cross to the jaw and being very lonely.

Let me spell it out for the Scum...

You win some. You lose some. Either way, you're still a sneaky bastard.

In some quarters, you may be seen as clever, but that's only if you win. In others, well, I am sure there are some who can come up with better words than I can at the moment. For France, Henry was clever. For Ireland, he's a cheating sneaky bastard.

I could use this on other players, in other situations but what's the point? There is none. WHY? Because it's fucking football, a fucking beautiful game played by artist, judged by those who have a passion for the art.

Wait, I lie.

I will make another reference, one that the Sheriff might appreciate. A young big eared Scouse bastard who looks like Shrek will be our villain or hero, however you want to put it. On the other end, there is this beautiful team in Red and White who have gone unbeaten for several games, hell they may have even broken a few long standing records.

Now our hero/villain decides to take a run into the box. The big eared man is not known for taking advantage of the rules, being English and all that. Now during his run the Shrek-like lummox decides to go against his usual nature (chuckle) and takes a spill. The man in black points to the spot and the beautiful team in Red and White has given up a penalty. This penalty basically ends the longest unbeaten streak by the team in Red and White.

HOWEVER, no one will put our hero in stocks for this, and the fucking scum does it again a couple seasons later and again to another team and again and again. He is lauded by his followers as a hero and by supporters of the beautiful team in Red and White as a sneaky fucking bastard.
Fuck Rooney!

So, I do not blame the Irish for saying, "Fuck Henry!", as I know they will. I can only shrug at that, because it could have easily gone the other way and I'd be saying, "Fuck Keane!", actually I say that all the time cause he is a sneaky little bastard who couldn't cut it at Liverpool.

The reality is, I actually missed the whole thing.

I do want to take a moment and thank all my comrades for sending me updates while I was trying to save people from their legal messes. Good looking out!

I headed down to the pub right after work. I found it to be one of the longest drives that I have ever endured. I parked and metered my car, of course my card wasn't working in the stupid pass machine, so I grabbed some assorted coins and dropped them in, not paying too much attention to how much time I really had. I ran down the street, into the pub and bounded up the steps, knowing the scoreline was 1-1(2-1 agg). I got a ticket, later in the evening.

Some of the Irish supporters that were familiar with me either gave me a solemn nod or a glare followed by something along the lines of cheating bastards. ChelskiGirl and Irish both gave me shit for about 10 seconds and all I could do was shrug and say "I didn't see a thing."

I braved the mass of angry green and found myself in the French Quarter. A very different mood all together. I kept my head low, but had a big grin on my face as I watched the clock keep on ticking. I was really hoping Les Bleus would put in another, just so the one goal would be a mere footnote but to no avail.

Peep. Peep. Peep. It's all over in Paris.

The rest of the evening was spent imbiding Carlsbergs with Vinny, MiniMourhino and the eventual arrival of Sheffield. We kept it going for some time and finally I was able to see the play. Yes about 2 hours after the game was over.

I can say this. Yes, it was a handball.

~LeChat

Internationals/WC 2010 Qualifiers at Dublin

One thing about World Cup, which I still can't figure out. I tend to spend a lot of money. Well beyond my usual amount. I am trying to wrap my head around how it happens but I blame the atmosphere.

SATURDAY
Ireland - Les Bleus: Dublin.

The morning started off with the usual foray onto the good old social network site. Posting some videos, commenting and rallying the troops. I think I spent about a good hour or two playing around on YouTube.

I found myself bored so traveled towards the pub. I figured I had roused and instigated enough on the good old social network site. I had forgotten the US game was on early but it was only a friendly. Upon entering the pub, it was a strange site. There was no one that I even knew by face on the first floor. That is how it is with the US crowd, various people at various times, nothing consistent but a whole lot of them.

To be honest, the morning did start out strange. Irish was in a bad mood unlike his normal bad mood. I figure it had to do with the amount of non-regulars in the pub or some other things going on. We greeted each other with caution.

2-1 and accepting nods.

2-1 is the score of respect. It basically means your team is good but mine is just better. And with the way the France squad was selected, I was a tad bit nervous of who would be the 2 and who would be the 1.

As I settled in and watched the Russian game, I was joined by a strange older man who had a wobbly walk. He asked to sit at the round table where I was since there was nothing at the bar. My first inclination was to be annoyed but after decided that it was a free seat and it had something to do with a greater good.

My mind, however was more focused on the impending game. The old man asked a bit about the Russian game, so I gave him a little knowledge on the game. Doing my duty for the footballing world. The old man left after a while to visit some more pubs, I presume.

ChelskiGirl popped in and gave a little hello. She found a seat at the bar. SlainteLOSC had also come in and told me about claiming some seats near the big television towards the back of the second floor. I guess it would be appropriate to call it the French Quarter.

I found my way upstairs after talking with ChelskiGirl for a few moments. It was early, hours before the game was suppose to start. A few supporters on both sides started showing up. SlainteLOSC and I were joined by a nice couple. Between our small group, we concurred that there would be about a dozen France supporters and a ton of Irish.

ChelskiGirl dropped off some fries that she didn't want but decided to head home to watch the game on her computer. Serbia was already in, so she really didn't want to pay to see the qualifier. ACMilan arrived about the time she left.

ACMilan sat in the French Quarter, chatted and hypothesized about the game and selections with us for a bit. He headed down about the time the second floor started to fill up. The French supporters quickly filled the Quarter. The Irish surrounded us but we were content in our own little bilingual section.

LilBlondieGooner showed up with her boyfriend, NightCaller. Yes, that's right, finally a nick for him, which will be discussed in a minute. It was his birthday, so I will give him a little leeway.

The game was good. It was well worth the Setanta fee and the atmosphere was amazing. I will say it again and again, there is nothing like watching Internationals in a pub. Even if your team comes out on the bad end, there's still that feeling of good will and a unity amongst supporters.

It is sad that sometimes that good will does not always extend out on to the pitch.

A fair result, since the Irish were playing an Italian game. I was walking out and one of the random Arsenal supporters thought I was a Chelski boy. I was nice about it but have to admit I was very much offended. I even exposed my Arsenal shirt to her, just to hammer home the point. We talked for a while and she showed me a picture of her son that the father wouldn't let her name Thierry Henry. She then said she was going to name her daughter that but he wouldn't allow it either. Hater.

I joined ACMilan, Vinny and MiniMourhino downstairs. MiniMourhino had been upstairs enjoying the match but I did not get much chance to talk to him. We all had a few drinks and joked around for a bit. ACMilan and I headed towards Meli for a quick bite to eat and then back to the pub.

After hanging around for some more time and watching Hockey with the ManagerInBlack, I decided it was time to head out. I started down the road back to the car and ended up following Vinny into a surprise party. I ended up back at the pub shortly after and sat around talking to MiniMourhino and T-Bone for a bit.

That is when the Zyedco music began. There was once a time I could enjoy it a little bit but I have come to despise it. I don't know why, it just grates on me like bad beer and annoying American Football supporters in obnoxious Canton bars.

It was finally time to leave. I headed towards home and got a call from ACMilan. He was at his usual antics of yelling at people while being on the phone. I knew it was trouble when he said "Hey this girl is wearing an Inter jersey."

I have to admit that it was hilarious, to say the least.

Saturday Night

I made it home and was out by 930. It was a long day and I was exhausted. Around 230AM I woke up to my cell ringing. I looked down and it was LilBlondieGooner's number so I thought something bad had happened to her boyfriend. He was a bit toasted when I had last seen him and I am sure he was worst for the wear.

I answer and it was the NightCaller himself. Apparently he was trying to get in touch with the ScouseDrummer from my band. Somehow the conversation, and I mean conversation ended up having to do something with the Ireland France game. Something about a goal that wasn't a goal and a little bit of "I don't mind because we support the same club."

I gave him the number and called the ScouseDrummer. He was at some party but I figure everything got settled. Well at least I hope it all is.

Before I was able to get back to sleep, I took a look at my phone and there was a message from A Certain Scouser. (I know I am surrounded by them, like rats.)

Drunk!Yay!

As a matter of fact, I've been getting random texts asking if she was mentioned this week. Seeing that the Scouser couldn't muscle it down to the pub, I guess I can give full harassment. I mean showing up just like her squad does for big games.

HAHA!

Back to normal football next weekend. Here is hoping mid-week brings World Cup spot to Les Bleus.

ALLEZ! ALLEZ!

~LeChat

Wooooooolves (Away)

I can not say there is much joy happening right now. I am in nervous anticipation for the next weekend. WC2010 qualifiers, France-Ireland. I am usually not too nervous about such affairs but it began preoccupying my mind late Sunday after getting off the phone with ACMilan.

It is funny how a wonderful weekend can turn into a "wonder what the hell next weekend will bring", in a matter of moments. So, does Ireland make me nervous? Yes, I just said that. I wish I really could put my finger on why without resorting to my old stand by of,

Domenech can not be trusted with the national team and he must have some naked pictures of someone in the FFF to have had this job for so long because he has really fucked it up royally on more than one occasion.

SATURDAY

It started off alright... down the pub... have some pints, so to speak. ManCity himself was center stage prior to me getting there. For some reason or another, he kept insisting I looked like Shawn Wright-Phillips. I think I am buying him a pair from Lenscrafters for Christmas.

A couple of the part-time bistro boys came in and were going to take him over to the Bistro for the Arsenal game. They had plans to meet up with someone there, so I forgave them, this time. I also thought it would be hilarious for ManCity and his usually vocal self to be surrounded by a bunch of Gooners (at least they call themselves that) watching the Arsenal play.

I hope to run into him soon to find out how it all went. He was saying he didn't have any issues with going over there and being himself, as the bistro Gooners are a little soft. Everyone nodded in agreement.

The three headed off about the time HalfArseDean came in. It was good to see him as he had not been around for some time. ChelskiGirl showed up shortly after kick off, followed by MiniMourhino after the half. The crowd in general was a little thin but that is to be expected for late games.

Somehow a conversation was started about opening up a Relegation pub. It would be for those who are in the bottom 4 or Championship. No big teams, only BIG games. It would be a neat idea and give people like Sheffield and our local Geordies a place to watch their matches without jockeying for position against the likes of Scousers and Mancs.

After the game, I somehow found myself at the barnextdoor with ChelskiGirl and Jonfromnextdoor. The rest of the day was a bit blurry after that, with the exception of me getting nachos at Friends and running into a kid I hadn't seen in like 12 years.

SUNDAY

I expected this day to be more fun and excitement than what it was. I popped down to the pub a bit early, as I was bored and there was nothing else better to do. ACMilan was there, so we decided to grab a bite to eat and watch his game in the back section, as someone found the vapid Hull Stoke tie to be more entertaining.

I will admit, I am usually not a big fan of Italian football but it was a fairly interesting match. You had your choice between Milan and Lazio. I would have rather eaten a dog bone but choose to at least show a little support to ACMilan and not the facist. Which brings up the question of how can you tell which team is more facist in Italy? I know there is a joke in there somewhere.

Pasta, Spaghetti, Rigatoni. Don't talk about my mama's Lasagna!
That is ACMilan's joke, not mine, so no one come after me with the concrete shoes.

We sat in the back for the United Chelsea tie. We were joined by various others at various times, some just to say hello and some to stay for a while and join in our random commentary on the state of the match. We were like the two grumpy guys on the muppet show.

It was nice to see one of my original Manc friends there, but he disappeared before the end of the match. He tends to get a little riled up when Mancs or England are losing. One time I had to throw him in the back of my car and take him cross town so he didn't throw any more bottles at anyone. Funny thing is, he's one of the best lads there is out there, genuine and true.

Weird moment of the day:
Some random MancScum, actually I know exactly who he is... had some words with M. He didn't like the way she was singing with the Chelski bunch after the game. He actually threatened physical harm to her. I was standing about 1o feet away, waiting for him to take a step, which never appeared.

I figured most of it was just drunken rambling but he had a lot of balls to say some of the things he did. I think M would have handled herself though, maybe even pulled him down ala Elizabeth Lambert style.



MONDAY

I can not believe not a single Scouser gave me a score update today. I'm lumping you all back together. One big old lump of scouse, some friends you are. And by the way, if you are going to dive, at least - A. make it look good. - B. win the bloody game.

halfasses

~LeChat

Midweek - AZ Alkmaar Home (CL)

I know I know I usually do this the day after but I'm working on doing this today instead. When I first started this blog, I had mentioned that I would be writing on the day of eventually. I don't want to say this is the start of that veiled promise because it really isn't.

Tuesday

Better known as the retaliation from ACMilan. I'll mention it again. ACMILAN is not a turncoat or traitor or Chelski in disguise. He loves ACMilan so much. ACMilan is ACMilan even when faced with a train full of Roma supporters. Ask him about it, great story.

Tuesday Evening

Tuesday is burger night at the barnextdoor, so I was in the mood for a bleu burger, a nice pint and to pop by the pub to say "Hello" to the locals. I decided to head over after work and had a nice smooth drive. I got a decent parking spot and argued with one of the local beggars, actually the one I went Warrior of God on and doesn't seem to remember what I told him about bothering me.

I casually stroll by the pub and the Chelski locals are stumbling out. T-Bone gave me his normal greeting and started rattling off some of the high points of the CL games. MiniMourhino and Klanksy follow out a moment later with a Chelski geezer who was over for some conference on trees and had stumbled upon the pub.

We all exchanged pleasentries and I popped in to speak with the staff, who for some reason a majority of their names start with the letter "B". It's kind of odd. I know that in itself is not real strange per se, but it is a strange little pattern. I remember having a discussion with 3 out of the 4 one night when they were all working as well. Some customer or something kept getting two of them mixed up, which after thinking about it for a few minutes, you could see it and it didn't help that their names both began with "B".

Pub conspiracy or someone has taken their hiring patterns from the way Wenger buys players. (That's a little joke for those that get it.)

I go back out to the cafe tables where the Chelski boys are holding court and start saying my farewells and glad to meet yas, when it happens. For some reason, there is this vortex around the Chelski boys that sucks you in. MiniMourhino insisted I have a beer with them. I shrugged and went back in and ordered one.

What was suppose to be one beer ended up being another and listening to that infernal One Man went to mow song like 30 times. The Chelski geezer was pretty interesting though. He had grown up during the 70's in the terraces. He and I did sing Tottenham went to see the pope, which was fun in itself.

One of the local beggars came over, a bit drunken and started talking to us. He had some Ravens song, which I think he made up on the spot. He had to leave after a while though. MiniMourhino wasn't having it with him and words were thrown back and forth. The last thing I remember the guy saying to Mini was something along the lines of, "the next time I see you, you better not make me mad."

Eventually, I found my way out of the Chelski vortex. Leaving them with my Arsenal FC song and stumbling up the steps to the barnextdoor. I still had not had my burger yet and my stomach was about to remind me of that.

It appears the power of the Arsenal is very strong in this one.

Wednesday

Well we know the outcome of this glorious side that has now trounced upon whatever that team is called again. The next stages should be fun for the boys in red and white. I do understand though that my Ligue 1 team, Lyon, has created some problems for the Scousers.

I spent the better part of the game at work. I know it's very exciting. However, today was probably one of the better days for getting a lot stuff done at work. I wish every Wednesday was like today.

Fantastic result - Decent day at work - Funny texts from friends

What more is there to ask for?

~LeChat

SCUM! at Home (and I forgot the Milk Cup tie)

First of all, I want to apologize for missing the mid-week Milk Cup blog. I don't think it would have made much difference anyways. I did think about it. I watched the highlights but last week was trying, to say the least... and I'm sure my Scouse loving friends won't want me to mention too much about it. SO, I present a totally unrelated to anything football or Scouse blog filler video.



HALLOWEEN or the day The Arsenal stomped on the spirit of good ol' 'Arry!

It's not my fault you wanted to manage a shit team, mate. Scum *visibly shaking my head even as I type this.* Fahkin Scum. There is nothing more disgusting than the Scum, well Rooney had a kid but it's really not the kids fault though, is it? Not to mention that Rooney's kid came out of the womb with the Doctor's wallet and house keys.

What? I'm just saying.

The pub was a bit thin, as there was the Halloween tents and things going on the Thames but it was a decent crowd to say the least, for an early game. Gooners were a bit happier after the first 42 minutes but there were no Sp*rs supporters to be found.

I remember an email or something going about, trying to figure out the exact number of supporters that they have. I think we came up with the number 3, really 2 1/2 because the old guy with the beard is only a supporter because he's Jewish and doesn't know much about the game, but he tries.

And yes, before the Sheriff calls me anti-Semitic again for saying YIDS last week, that is why he told me he was a Sp*rs supporter. I can not make these things up. Anyways, where does MancScum get off calling me out on saying Yids...

They are the Yid Army. I didn't make that one up either, they did.
(It is a predominately Jewish area of North London.)
Wiki links.

Anyways, I'm done with the Scum as they take their rightful place below us on the table.

Fast Fact - Sp*rs have not beaten The Arsenal this century. (I know we are only 9 years into it but it's a nice little fact)

I won't mention the Scousers game too much but I do feel a tad bit of sorrow for their lot in life right now. It goes to show there are only 2 things are certain in football, and one of those is still under question.

I ended up arguing with one of the Scousers calling for Benetiz's job. I had to explain that if the players can't play because the manager is in their head, maybe they should find a new vocation. It's obvious something is going on at that club but to say that it's all Benetiz is a fahkin joke.

A few of the regular Scousers, seemed to be backing me up on my stance. I think he understood that not everything coming out of the Journo's pens is word of God because usually it's far off the mark. I may have been a little harsh but it's an argument that I find unfounded and without substance.

We shook hands and gave each other respect. I'm not a total piece of sh!t. I can respect the opinions of others, just that I'm usually right.

The Chelski game was interesting and quite a few of the blue crew showed up. The Gooners had stuck around mostly to harass everyone else and get drunk off the solid drubbing of the Scum.

When Chelski went up, the songs began flying back and forth. 3 - nil to the Arsenal was holding strong against whatever dribble was spewing from the Chelski boys and girls.

Then they got the fourth.

It was fun while it lasted. The songs and jokes continued into the MancScum game. Someone pointed out there were actually no Mancs in the pub. I think a friend of the BigAustrian showed up with some people and she may have been a Manc supporter, probably akin to having pimples I suppose. There's always one, somewhere, even if it's on your ass.

I remember some pictures being taken and a lot more singing and acting up among the regular crew. Pretzels was missed and his name was mentioned quite a few times but I'm sure he was enjoying the revelry from his spot in the terraces.

SUNDAY

Not much to mention. It was chilly and rainy. I didn't go out Halloween night, as I didn't feel like dealing with the randomness of Halloween, plus had fallen asleep around 6PM and woke up around 10PM and was overall lazy.

I had woken up earlier than usual, due to the time change. I headed down to the barnextdoor and enjoyed a good breakfast while talking with Jonfromnextdoor about the festivities of the night before, since he was working the secondfloornextdoor.

ChelskiGirl came along after a bit. Headache in tow, apparently her and A Certain Scouser got into some scotch or something at Birminghams house. Oh excuse me, BirMigHam or was it BirmingWho? Actually that works. The evolution of your blog name is now finished, in real time at that.

After a while, I went up to visit Barca, then came back to find the barnextdoor had become an American Football paradise. I had run into ManCity himself on the way back and decided to pop into the pub for the City/Shitty game. Which was a tad bit of a surprise. I figured it would be a one sided affair, so had not paid much attention to it.

I will say that with a total of maybe 10 people in the pub, that there is no doubt in my mind, that ManCity has a true passion for his club. I mean I knew it before but it's a good scene to see him being the only person screaming, or better yet encouraging his side to put one in and get it over with.

It was also probably the first time I actually sat and watched a game with really just him. Well there was a friend of his that had shown up just before I did and I believe one of the random Gooners that I am not too acquainted with but only by face, was sitting in the corner booth. It was a good random time though.

Sunday Evening
(liberties were taken with the conversation per my artistic license)
*musical ringtone*
me - Hey Milan.
AC - HEY! Man you should be here. OH my God this girl is hot.. she can't be with that dude. (yelling at couple) HEY is that your daughter? She's too hot for you!
me - Where?
AC - South Beach
(yelling at couple) No is that really your girlfriend? What does she... Are you sure?
me - You're so getting your ass kicked.
AC - It's like 80 here, I bet you are freezing your ass off.
me - meh, 50's and you're a dick for calling me from South Beach
AC - huh... oh man I swear that fat ugly guy can't be with that girl.

~Random talk about football and the weekend~

AC - OH you know that picture of me with the Chelski jersey, don't show that to anyone ok. It might ruin my reputation.
ME - Sure thing.

How's the weather in South Beach now?

~LeChat

West Ham Away

This weekend was a difficult one all the way around and I'm not just talking about the draw. However, since I just mentioned the elephant in the room, I will say that it is a game of 2 halves and playing for the win in the first half does not mean running around the pitch with a finger up your ass the second half until the other side draws a red card and goes down 10 men.

We all know that a team down to 10 men is much harder to play against than a full squad...
Don't we?

Or am I mistaken and am one of the few people who pay attention to that stat?

Anyways enough on lackluster performances and blaming the referee for giving soft penalties. The Arsenal should be used to that by now.
Shouldn't we?

Alright now that is out of my system.

Saturday

I decided it was best for me to be away. I couldn't handle the idea of showing up to the Chelski match and not seeing Pretzels there with the rest of the Chelski crew. I understand it was a nice showing of people and the match final did them well. Pretzels must have been dancing in the terraces for this one.

Sunday

Waking up was a little tougher than usual. I found myself dragging as I got out of bed and headed to the pub. I was suppose to be doing some family stuff at the good old church but canceled out. I didn't really feel like being fake nice to anyone. Good thing though. I probably would have to contend with being purged or something if I walked through the door.

Football is my religion. Same God, just different scripture.

Actually it's all the same but I'm not going to wax philosophical on it but the season does play out like some strange parable with it's heroes, villains, anti-heroes and clubs in distress. A great myth being told over and over, of which we follow with baited breath, vile curses and celebratory cheer.

I made my way into the pub. Scousers had already taken over most of the seating. ScouseGrubs offered me a spot on the bench seats amongst the red tide. It was strange to say the least to be sitting amongst the Scousers and not getting anything nicked from me. Honestly though, they are a good group, even A Certain Scouser.

Sunday I will admit I was an honorary Scouser for all of 100 minutes. I even tried nicking some of the LFC stuff from the Librarian, whom I didn't know was a librarian but may have known that and forgotten it. Things like that happen with me.

Apparently, the Librarian did forget to give someone their change from signing up for their supporters club. Typical. Typical.

MiniMourinho did an announcement to raise some money for the Chelski kit that is going to have Pretzel's name on it. It's going to be framed and put up in the pub. A fitting tribute. I will admit I was shocked by just how generous people were in giving. MiniMourinho pointed out that most of the people weren't even the regular non-regulars, which made it even more touching.

Cheers for the pub and everyone pulling together in a time such as this.

Now back to the elephant in the room. We already mentioned it at the beginning. 2-nil and the Arsenal fucked it up... again. Alright, I'm done with that. BLAH.

The African contingent was upstairs. I think some of them snuck in the other door. I had gone upstairs to check on Ying. I forgot to mention Ying. Ying gets no cool name because Ying is cool enough. Plus there is no other way to describe Ying besides Ying. Anyways the upstairs was a little crazy, to say the least but B-Dawg and Brit seemed to have held it down.

The rest of the day was spent doing the typical Sunday-Funday stuff. I ran into an old acquaintance who was at the pub with his Irish brother-in-law watching the matches. We caught up a bit and had a laugh with some of the crew. Good times...

Miss you Pretzels.

~LeChat

There's only one Nick Dauner!

I probably shouldn't be writing a blog post in the state that I am in right now. The reality is that I lost a good mate. Someone that you could totally rely on. A true supporter of the game today. I write these words in the spirit of himself. Nick Dauner aka Pretzels.

I do realize that I am a shot and a couple pints of Magner's into my evening, just had a few with some of the faithful at the pub. I don't think Pretzels would have had it any other way. Great guy this one was, is, and always will be.

It was nice to see the good bunch out in force, taking over the cafe seating on a very warm October night. It was good to share a few jokes and a few memories. Like a private memorial for a good person who touched all our lives.

I am just glad I had him get a Kooper's burger. It's all about the oppurtunities, you may miss them if you don't grab them. I do hate the whole "seize the day! I just watched that Robin Williams movie bullshit! The reality of it all is that ones flame can be snuffed in an instance.

I know I probably shouldn't be writing anything right now. I said that in the beginning. However, I lost a mate, so please forgive me and indulge my selfish babbling.

Sometimes you are up, sometimes you are down. Sometimes you are relegated.

I'll be seeing Pretzels on the terraces, one day, I know that's an immortal truth.

There's only one Nick Dauner
There's only one Nick Dauner
walking along, singing a song
walking in a Dauner wonderland!

Love ya Nick, even if you were a Chelski blue!

~LeChat

p.s. fuck editing, I don't care if it looks good.

Midweek - Alakazaaam! AZ Alkmaar Away

Champions league mid-week group stages for me only mean one thing and one thing only... I will not and can not call out sick to enjoy a few pints at the pub. From what I understand though. This mid-week might have been one to enjoy at least for 92 minutes.

A Certain Scouser decided to give me a few updates, while I was deciding on whether or not a few clients actually qualified as low income or trying to pull one over on good ol' LeChat. The texts started off friendly enough. I mean what more can you ask for. Good friends sending you updates.

Oh, apparently, ChelskiGirl was sending text but I didn't get them because they went to my email. In an effort to save face, she blamed the I-Phone.

I'm looking at you! ChelskiGirl!

So, like Liverpool's chances at winning the league, A Certain Scouser's texts went from this nice friendly tone to garbled letters to rumblings of suicidal tendencies. I tried to give some reassurance but the Scousers were playing O'Lyon.

In order to keep some semblance of mental notes that I try to gather here and espouse onto my causal and not so casual readers, I must admit I am partial to Lyon in Ligue 1. However at the time, I did not realize who the Scousers were playing. My condolences were heart-felt though.

OL OL OL

Anyways, let me get away from Scousers for a moment. I do value my life and wallet and recently did get my car back from the mechanic. All wheels are currently attached and I still have my stereo.

Monday evening, I want to definitely give a shout out to Sheffield. Texting You Fill Up My Senses made for a better day than the one I was actually having. Cheers Mate!

OH! Interesting news. I don't know how many of you follow the Show Racism the Red Card campaign but it is one of the few movements out there that I actually give a care about. It seems that after the Rangers lost to whoever they were playing, there was some amount of racial abuse hurled towards Maurice Edu as he was getting into his car to go home.

Here you have a case of a player at his home ground receiving racial abuse from the knuckle dragging miscreants who consider themselves supporters of their club. Now I know I am not holier than thou or anything like that and I've said a few things myself but nothing of this kind of magnitude. Here's the article, if you care.

Oh and thanks to a good friend of mine for showing me this article as well. Not to change the subject but I'll just quote part of it from the IrishTimes.

French soccer manager Raymond Domenech is public enemy number one in Ireland after dismissing the Irish soccer team as second-rated has-beens.

"They are the England Bs,” he told an Irish journalist with a Gallic shrug.

"There won’t be any surprises in the World Cup play-offs," he sniffed. "We know precisely what to expect.”

And on that note. Au revoir.

~LeChat

BIRMINGHAM at HOME and WC2010 Playoff Draw

Where shall I begin?

This weeks blog, like my beautiful little Volkswagen, is having a hard time starting. I am sure that the finishing will be much better than what the Scousers had going on this weekend however.

(Apologies to all my Scouse friends, you may want to stop reading now.)
I believe there was some kind of benefit or get-together on Friday. I only picked up a smattering of what was going on from A Certain Scouser after I was a couple beers into a happy hour before band practice. Needless to say I was unable to attend. I do enjoy their little soirees.

However, I will admit. The beach ball party on Saturday morning was a lot more fun.

Alright, alright, I can feel the ice-picks being thrown across the intertubes now.

So I wasn't in a hurry to watch the first match. I really didn't care too much, either way. I slept in for a few and luckily my car decided to start. So far it was appearing to be a good day.

Making my way into the pub, I get stopped by some of the Chelski jokers about my blue colored jacket. It happens all the time. I quickly opened up and pointed to the cannon on my old school top and laughs were had. I was then told to not turn around and look at the screen.

With confusion on my face, I slowly peer over my shoulder and see it. Villa up and Chelski making very little impact. I smiled, yes only smiled and maybe chuckled a bit and waved myself on. I spoke to ChelskiGirl and Mini-Mourinho before heading down to the Arsenal end of the pub.

I am seriously just going to claim the whole back booth area. For some reason, all our games seem to be on at the same time as the Scousers. And with Irish being a Scouse loving Irishman, we know whose going to be on the main screen. No offense on that, like I've said before, hardest working man in the business. Plus the Scousers do have a rather large contingent, even on beach ball day.

LilBlondieGooner and her man were at the end of the bar. First thing that comes out of her mouth was something along the lines of 'You're late, I expected you to be here already.' Not much I could say, except I decided to sleep in and no one cares about Chelski playing Villa. I now stand corrected.

Also, apparently you can order fruit and toast. Yes, fruit and toast. Go figure.

Well I settle down in the back booths after making some Joe Cole comments and order up some breakfast. A little more substantial than fruit and toast. However this prompts LilBlondieGooner into calling me fat. So I am keeping that one in a little notebook. She will get hers. *insert evil laughter*

I have to admit, nothing too exciting happened. The Gunners showed up, a little sloppy to say the least. Someone started singing 99 Red Balloons after Sunderland scored against the Scousers. Well it was sung quite a few times but no one could get past the beginning of the song.

I did give consolations to my Scouse friends. It was really a dubious decision by the Ref, who by the way, is always a bastard. I was reading in the Guardian about how it should have been disallowed, which is what my immediate thought was.

I might be an annoying Gooner sometimes, but HEY, I do know what's fair and what some of the more obscure rules of the game, for the most part. It is nice to have some kind of confirmation of the fact without having to look it up in a rule book.

Anyways, it was a positive, albeit London weather like, Saturday for the pub and football, and most of all the Arsenal. Everyone dropping points, except for the bloody Scum. I still can't believe they are one point ahead of us.

Yah, Game in Hand, I know. Still Scum sit above The Arsenal in the table.

Sunday

My Sunday was suppose to be heading down to the pub to harass City and catch up with ACMilan. However, German engineering sought to derail my attempts at forming a resistance by staging an occupation of my back yard. Or the Scousers nicked my starter. Someone is plotting against me. So I spent most of the day figuring out that my battery was not the issue and that I would have to go to a real mechanic.

What do you Germans and Scousers have in common...


The English version. You know, whatever you do, don't mention the war.

OH I need to pass on this story, as well. ACMilan, which I must mention, calls me late in the day with a wonderful tale that needed to be witnessed. He sends me an MMS with himself posing with a bunch of guys from a reggae band. He calls it his good luck charm.

Apparently, when all hope was lost. These guys started setting up to perform at the pub that night. ACMilan asked if they could hold off for a bit while the game was finishing. They agreed and were messing around a bit. ACMilan said they started playing Three Little Birds, and Milan started playing like they were all a bunch of 20 year olds, coming back and winning their match against Roma.

He said the music just fit, everything was just working, clicking on all cylinders. Then he started singing, "Don't worry bout a thing, cause every little thing, is going to be alright." Which I will admit, hearing ACMilan singing Bob Marley, was a highlight on a rather dismal Sunday.

MONDAY - World Cup Playoff Draw

As many of you may or may not know, I do not get much time to access the intertubes from work. Today, during my lunch, half not thinking, I decide to have a look at the good old Guardian. The Guardian goes well with cheesesteak subs apparently.

My bookmark is actually on the football page. Top story just happened to be this one.
France will not intimidate Irish

Very interesting indeed. I was expecting the draw to go a little different. I did not expect to be drawn against the Irish. It's going to make for a very uncomfortable mid-November at the pub. My only consolation is knowing that the French games will be on the big screen. I hope that SlainteLOSC does decide to turn up. United we must stand in a sea of green.

I must point out that this still does not discredit my World Cup conspiracy theory. It just proves it, more or less. Ireland could actually be a contender but what would FIFA do if they actually took the thing? Seriously, if Ireland does get lucky and beat France, then at least they can say they beat one of the better teams out there and have proof that they are a serious contender. My guess is there is always wishful thinking or luck of the Irish. HA!

Allez les Bleus!

~LeChat