Chelsea at home, Wigan away

This has been a weird week all around, just to begin with, 2 matches within 3 days time. I know there are those who side with, well they get paid a shit ton of money to look like shit, but it's seriously a lot to ask especially in the premiership.

Boxing Day
Have to admit this was one of the worst Boxing day turn outs I've ever witnessed. It may have been for a lack of quality games on the screens or just no one cares about tradition.

The shitty faithful were streaming their gave across the internet and putting it on the big screen upstairs. I will give proper respect to them for doing that. Downstairs, if I had thrown Mount Everest at the pub I don't think I would have hit a Manc fan/supporter at all.

Now I understand people are out of town for the holidays and all but really, not even a fair-weather or at least one that I knew of. Thank the gods for the local hooligans meandering in and having a few together. For lack of quantity there were a good lot of us surrounding the back tables not paying much attention to the screens at all.

Monday
There we go. A much better turn of events. I have never seen that much red and white in the pub since before the splitters left. Some of the Chelski lads also showed up, nice turn out for them.

So as I've been informed by the man himself, I've never mentioned Shorts in my blog. Shorts, he's a good lad as they would say and yes I know it's a weak nickname for him but it's also early in the morning for me to be typing. I promised him a few lines as well. As I was saying, Shorts has been instrumental in the instigation and creation of new songs and chants for the pub. This, to me, makes him a real pub hero, have a beer Shorts and be kind to those who are shorter.

I swear I must have said something about him at one time or the other. Oh wells, after the game we all headed over to the dollar store for some post match bevvies. LilblondieGooner was trying to figure out if MiniMo was going to let her back into the apartment. I think we all offered a place to stay but we knew he would anyways.

Wednesday
Let us just say it was not as delicious as Monday. Things started off bad, got better and settled into what can only be disappointing but not the worst thing that could happen. It was just weird.

Arsenal on the big screen, Chelski in the back (cough cough where they belong). The Librarian mentioned it was interesting that there was an actual divide in the pub, like an imaginary line that neither side ventured cross. Or maybe I was watching a documentary on North Korea last night. No I'm sure she said something to that affect.

We all spent most of the matches giving each other some friendly abuse. At one point something was said between LilblondieGooner and LilblondieChelski. I still have no idea what was said but I think the west coast is softening LilblondieGooner.

I spent the rest of the night sulking in my own self misery. I even gave up a short trip to the dollar store, just didn't feel like being around people. Like I said, strange night all around; who would give up a trip to the dollar store?

~LeChat

s-NOOOOOOOO Football

Surprise!
I heard a rumour of 3 inches in one hour around the Grove. I mean that's what I heard so I'm not going to question it. It must be true.

My weekend consisted of going to see Tron in 3D. It's a decent remake/sequel of the old movie. I'm not going to give a full review cause it has nothing to do with football at all.

Well I suppose it has something to do with my life... and this blog is related to my life and it's parallel dimension to the world of football.

Saturday morning I woke up, as usual, bright and early. I took a nice shower, and did the things you normally do after you wake up. I hop on the good old computer thing and take a look at the action.

I knew some things might be canceled because of the recent English weather but I couldn't believe almost everything was canceled. I had to take a quick look at my day and figured that this weekend would be a bust football wise, at least.

Sunday was spent doing much the same. Not much. As expected, more cancellations. I did however get to catch up on some video watching. By the way, the discovery channel 2008 Iditarod series, not really worth it. While I do enjoy my sled dog racing, the low raspy talking "expect something bad to happen" commentator needs to go. Give me the nasally Alaskan in the helicopter any day. OVER-Produced.

Much like what ESPN has tried to do to proper football; Over produce the crap out of it and then spoon feed it to the unwashed. I know it's all about viewership and making it feel comfortable to Joe and Mary America. However, you alienate the same who actually got you to put the game on the television to begin with.

Reminds me of the time Fox took over the NHL and started doing the glowing puck thing. What a disaster! The glow was never where it was supposed to be and served more of a distraction to the regular watchers of the sport than to the new viewership that it was trying to capture and that never would stick around to begin with.

My thing is, if you want to get into something, really want to understand the world around you. You take your time, pay your dues and come out a whole lot better than having it given to you by god, er I mean Corporate Run Media Conglomerates.

I know you can call me a hypocrite because the same could be said about the BBC, however the BBC has had match of the day in place since forever and a day and that is the formula.

I'm not knocking media coverage in general, just specific things. CBC had hockey night, so Fox, buy a clue. BBC has match of the day, so ESPN, buy a clue. There's a reason these things work. I wouldn't ask either of those broadcasters to reinvent Baseball or American Football coverage, especially when they have no history with it. So, FOX and ESPN, have your field day with that.

If you want people to be into the sport and really be into it and watching it. It's not in game day presentation. It is in the grassroots. Why don't you start reaching down a little bit, college games or even sponsor some childrens' leagues? Why don't you give back to the community that you force to watch your stupid ass commercials and dancing robots. Your revenue is nothing without a good foundation.

~LeChat

United Away and the forgotten CL

Yes, that's right. I forgot the Champions League-midweek the week before. It didn't really matter much anyways. There wasn't much to say about it. It was just another game that took way too long to finish. So let's just put that to rest and on to more recent things.

I dropped down the pub on Saturday for the Liverpool match at the behest of ScouseDrummer. I wasn't going to, just because I was watching the Habs the night before lose to Detroit. So I eyed up the weekend as not to have to pay attention to any sport, for that matter.

It was also the first time I seen ManCity himself after the Station show. He survived and I think made an impression on the local punk crowd that frequents the bar we play at on occasion. It was nice of him to show up and support.

Anyways, Saturday I sat along the back bench with ScouseDrummer and family, hoping for a Newcastle loss, just because they had fired Chris Hughton, for doing a respectable job. I hate to say I would rather see them dive into the relegation zone but they did look sharp against Liverpool.

However, keeping in mind, they were still running under the Hughton formula. The genius he is, Pardew hasn't been able to instill his special brand of stupidity. HEY didn't he manage WestHam before the slippage?

In the 2006–07 season Pardew was criticised after seeing West Ham through their worst run of defeats in over 70 years which included an exit from the UEFA Cup to Palermo in the very first round[10] and a League Cup defeat to Chesterfield. [11]

Thank you Wikipedia. I only use this to prove a point. Honestly, Hughton didn't deserve to be treated like that. So in short, unlucky Hughton and an unlucky Liverpool.

Back to proper football though, not that Newcastle - Scouse wasn't proper but it wasn't ManScum - Arsenal. I think the week/weekend prior I kept getting asked my opinion on the thing. In my heart of hearts I knew what the result would be but I just kept saying, "we will see, we will see."

I'm not saying my beloved club was going to lose, but I can at least be honest about football. This season, and as pointed out in the Guardian, the last 7 meetings between the Arsenal and ManScum or Chelski; the Arsenal has failed to come away with 3 points.

That's called reality. With the tools in the shed, it is possible, but there's this consistency that seems to be lacking, an end product. Reminds me of my project for Senior seminar at University. I did enough, with the right tools to come away with something that was more than passable, however it still remains an unfinished body of work.

It wasn't a training ground project, as Evra (that gape hole) would have you think, but it wasn't the quality finished project which was envisioned. That's the reality when we look at Ashburton Grove for the moment.

The ball can be stroked along the carpet in the most smooth and silky way but when the end product is not being produced, it's only nice. Not great, not wonderful, not enough to really not worry about being 2-nil up.

LilWestCoastGooner had sent me a few messages about my depressive ways at looking at the club recently. It's not really depressive but I've seen this spell before; I've lived through it, around the time I first started supporting. It came again a few years after Graham took over. It started to hit right before the "Invincibles" season. It just exists.

United has always been a hard club to deal with in the Wenger/Fergie era. I don't see much changing, as they are men cut from the same cloth, managing teams with like dispositions when it comes to building, promoting instead of buying and replacing like a sidewalk whore does with her diaphragms.

Give me 3 more weekends of Arsenal - ManScum! I'll watch it over and over.

~LeChat

Fulham at home

Sometimes even in victory, there can be a kind of sadness or despair. As you know, I don't like to harp on team or individual performance, so I'm not really going to start. However, I'll leave it at this one remark; having one or two good cylinders is not the way to run your four cylinder car.

I've been keeping my profile low as of late. I'm really not in the mood for dealing with any kind of nonsense, even the good kind. I wish I could pinpoint what the exact issue is, as to come to some kind of realistic conclusion but that's not an easy thing to do.

I could point to having a weak defence but all that does is make up another excuse for not being able to finish when you're up at the half, when finishing is necessary. Honestly, what's the point in making up some sad excuse. There's always a cog missing for some odd reason.

Have you ever built something from one of those DIY stores. They give you this pile of parts in the bag and a couple of doo-dads and whizz-bangs. If you're lucky and it's one of the nicer DIY projects you even get a little wrench or special screwdriver type tool as well.

At the end of the project, you look back at your well put together whojamabob and pat yourself on the back. Hell, even take some pictures to show off to your friends on FB or whatever. Then you look at the ground, in the bag with all the doo-dads and whizz-bangs in it and you notice a couple of them that didn't make it into the whojamabob.

You push on it... it seems sturdy. You put your weight on it... it's holding it. You scratch your head, shrug and either toss the bag or put it in that one drawer; you know the one drawer that holds every left over thing that you fear throwing out. Well you never know when you may need those whizz-bangs and doo-dads.

At the end of the day, your project is still standing but for some reason you get the feeling it's incomplete. You know, at least in the back of your head, something is missing. Possibly, it's in the drawer or maybe not. However, it's still standing with a semi-vacant hole where that last doo-dad was supposed to go in.

~LeChat

Wigan at home (Carling Cup)

Another mid-week gone by and what is there to say? Not much I suppose. As usual I found myself dealing with work stuff. Good thing is, the phone lines went down, so most of the morning was spent actually doing my job, rather than returning calls from over-needy clients.

ArseBob and PastryMan had some little bet going on FB about starting lineups. I popped my head in on it but wasn't really up for the challenge. I'm not that good at picking starting lineups. Years and years of ChampMan has taught me that. One day Bristol City will be the powerhouse team, with my cyber-self as manager.

So I had the gamecast all set up at work. Then like 101 things happened and I totally forgot about it. The more annoying thing, at least at the time, was the Guardian had the play by play only for the MancScum game. In the end however, it turned out to be a boon rather than a bust.

WestHam had it's way with United like Giggs on a sheep farm. At least that's the analogy I was given. I actually didn't find out the final tally until I was about to leave work. The same time I remembered I had the gamecast going on for the Arsenal match.

Yes, that's right, I can be brain dead at times. It just happens.

All in all, with a nice little berth into the semi-finals of the Carling, I can be at least a tad bit happy for the moment.

~LeChat

Villa Away

The weekend was shaping up to be a bad case of déjà vu. Or I should say more like a nightmare experience all around, but it ended up being just really tame. It was a holiday weekend here, so that meant it was extra long.

Thursday, also known as (American) Thanksgiving, was a bit a strange to begin with. Usually there is a fair number of family around but this year that seemed to be lacking. I spent most of the day pretending to know what I was talking about when it came to American Football. My mother joked with me and reminded me that I never was a big fan of the sport anyways.

I decided to ditch the family festivity and headed to the pub for a couple of drinks. SlainteLOSC had sent out a message earlier about being down there for the evening, so I decided to drop by and say hi. For as dead as the point looked, there were plenty of punters milling around the pub that evening. No one special, just completely random.

Friday I had a show so kept a low profile most of the day. I made a decision to buy a new bass, but I haven't felt like whipping out the card and actually paying for it. For those who care, 5 string - fretless.

Station had a mediocre show. We got our new singer up to speed, sort of burn or blaze. Our previous singer had caught the baby disease and his (wife) had him on lockdown. For a while, we had two singers which was an interesting dynamic.

There's another show coming up this Saturday, which is ScouseDrummer's birthday show. That should be pretty good, and the new singer should be fitting in much better now that the first jitters are out.

Mentioning Saturdays, this past one was a scare and a half for the boys in red and white. I don't really like this whole going 2-nil into the second half and letting the opposition take over the game. IF Villa had been a better squad then we'd be in some trouble.

I stayed around the pub for a bit, as Sheffield's parents were in town. I hadn't seen them since the wedding and they are great people. Sheffield and I had a bit of a clockwatch going on as well. His club was playing my lower division club, Bristol City. Vinnie had also stopped down and was streaming the Reading game.

It was a great reunion in some ways. Plus we did have a bit of entertainment by way of the MancScum game. The ManShitty game on the other hand, well, I guess shitty about explains it.

I took my leave after the games in order to get some much needed rest. It was becoming a much longer weekend without much sleep. Thank god I didn't try and deal with the shopping stupidity that affects this country. I can't believe what people will do for a 50 cent discount on shit they don't really need.

I'm too annoyed about it to rant at the moment. I'll just leave it.

OH Barça, how I adore you. Not only did one of your crews throw rocks at REAL Facist's motorbus but you did it on the field. BRILLIANT!

~LeChat

Sporting Braga Away (CL) - Thanksgiving Issue

...

I wasn't going to write anything but I figured that would be unfair, not only to myself but to the greater cosmos. I mean it's one thing for me to put in half ass performance, but I'm not getting paid for it. This is more of an intellectual exercise than anything else.

Dissatisfaction seems to be an appropriate word. The sky is not really blue. The sea is polluted by a floating island of garbage. Putin is asking for help to save the tigers. The poor tigers, over hunted and decimated.

Babies are being born. The lights still come on after the storm. The roads are quite nice. Scientist are curing the incurable.

Life goes on; Win, Loss, or Draw.

In the US it is Thanksgiving evening. A day/night to be thankful for the bounty that has been given to us. However, in the US there is also an overwhelming degree of self-entitlement in the form of stupidity and ignorance as well.

I'm sure it's happening in other places, but I can only speak of things I deal with on a daily basis. So in essence, thankful for what has been given, obtained and shared; annoyed by what stands in the way of progress and human empathy.

Win...Loss...Draw

~LeChat

SP*RS at home

I'm just going to gloss over the reality of what actually happened and concentrate on positive things. I figure through positive thought good things will happen. When good things start happening then I can relax my positive thinking. Sort of like being 2-nil up.... OH wait... fuck.

Friday was good. I went and saw Brian Poshean or however you spell his name. I ran into the Librarian and T-Bone. It seemed like I hadn't seen T-Bone in quite a while but I know it had only been a few weeks. All and all a good comedy night.

Saturday morning, however, I should have just stayed in bed. The pub enjoyed quite a lively crew, even if I was half asleep and feeling the effects of the night before. I know at one time I had done a cartwheel across Howard Street. I distinctly remember that and running away from ScouseDrummer as he was trying to jump on me. I can't even remember why.

In essence, me and a rolled up hoodie found a comfortable spot to enjoy a nice easy Saturday morning. And like most things in my life, it started out well, shiny and bright. The sun rose in the east and the moon set in the west.

However the bane of my existence decided it would monkey-wrench my good feelings. If ten tons of bricks could come down and knock me in my head, I would call it the second half at Ashburton Grove on 20 November 2010. My own personal disaster.

I remember leaning over to GrumpyGooner at one point and making the statement of how those people had done this before. How the singular instance of stupidity residing in North London had come back from a 2-nil deficit and stole points.

I shouldn't just vent my anger, but in short, it ruined the rest of the weekend. I became physically sick and stayed in bed the rest of the day, dancing between sleep and mild annoyance. Thank the gods for Ken Burns Jazz streaming on Netflix.

The only consolation was a Chelski loss, which I had forecast before walking out the door at the pub. I guess not all is loss then.

QUICK non-football update, for those who care.
STATION, otherwise known as my band, will be playing Sidebar on 26-NOV-10 and 4-DEC-10, for those who care. 4-DEC-10 is ScouseDrummer's birthday show, so make it an effort and show for that one or both if you really like us.

And for sticking around, here's some video from the Barclay Show.



~LeChat

Wolves Away and Everton Away

It seems like I've been writing this blog forever and a day. There have been highs and there have been lows. The best part of it all is I keep giving. However, I've noticed I missed a couple of midweeks lately. I'm going to say it was fatigue. Things have just been piling up like a big old elephant after eating laxatives.

So what's the good. Two wins in the past 7 days. I can't complain about that. There's all this talk about having a fighting spirit. You lose it.. You gain it... at the end of the day it just matters about who is really up for it and who has fallen complacent.

It's a truism, when you are on top, it's easy to coast along until you have a challenger; Someone to push you to the final hurdle, someone to kick you while you're down and not just roll over and lay beside you. Without this challenge, what have you? A whole lot of nothing really, a bunch of patsys just nodding yes to everything you do, until you finally realise the new clothes are not really invisible and your jewels have been swinging in the bright sun all afternoon.

High dollar fashion does have it's risk with very little reward. Towards the end of last week we've seen the dismantling of those who might be giants by a swarm of minnows. In short, there be parity in the league. And no matter how much you sulk and complain, this is a good thing. It always has been, always will be.

I remember growing up and hearing the yabbing about this and that, OH Newcastle, OH Forest, OH LEEDS and now look where they sit. And in the case of Leeds, the bigger the star the quicker the fall.

I guess what I'm getting it is there is whole bunch of consistency with certain squads, many of them mid-table, while others fluctuate between leagues or yo-yo as they say. Those that tend to rise quickly, also tend to fall quickly. It's just a word of caution, nothing more, nothing less.

Football in itself, can be used a reflection upon real life. If you really think about it, well you can fit rectangles into square holes, if need be, but there are those days where everything is just going right. The incredible shot was stopped, the ball dished off to the backs, pumped into the mid-field that runs rampant down the wings, floating a perfect ball into the box that's latched onto and put pass an awestruck opposing number one.

I wish all days could be like that. The reality of it all is that it's more about the aforementioned fighting spirit. You have a bad week, lose the ball and the plot on numerous occasions. The press seems to be misprinting every word you say and John Terry and Ashley Cole just roasted your page 3 wife; the same one who gets the house in Nice and 25% of your future earnings in the pre-nup.

However, the game goes on. The ball is round. The game is 90 minutes.

Play to the whistle.

~LeChat

Shaktar (CL) midweek and Newcastle at Home

What a pitiful display last week was. I am not even going to get into it. Midweek was the same old story. I was at work, unable to phone Wenger and get the right team on the pitch. Only if I truly had that power, however I don't think it would matter either way.

So let's flog the dead horse and call her November.

Saturday, I'll be honest. I completely checked out of the world. I had awoken about 5 AM to take my relatives to the airport. Must be nice to be retired and travel down to the Outer Banks or wherever, whenever you desire. I think they're all going on a cruise sometime soon as well.

Well, in order to keep my insanity, I just checked out. A few rounds of Football Manager on the good old computer, a big mug of Theraflu to make sure I wasn't coming down with something and some mid-day napping. Ah, how I love my siestas.

It became apparent on Sunday, that I missed some good football from the previous day. As I have said, it doesn't really matter. It's November!

Sunday was rather crisp in the morning with the overarching gloom hanging in the air. For some reason, I decided I would have a bit of hope this morning. I should start at the beginning when I woke up and forgot to switch my clock back. That should have been the first omen.

Then my drive down, while uneventful, was an exercise in patience. I really wonder where people learn how to drive. I mean, I by far am not the most rules aligned driver in the world but at least, or so I feel, I have an iota of common sense when behind the wheel.

Who knows maybe I don't but I do remember watching a driving instruction video with I believe Senna or someone of note about controlling your car. It had to do with imagining it as an extension of your body and such; that you should never make a sharp manoeuvre that it all should be a natural flow, from acceleration to braking to taking a curve. Makes sense to me, so why all the panicking? Why the slamming of brakes on the middle of an empty highway? WHY and why in hell all the distractions in the cockpit?

It is sort of like life. I know the footballers themselves go through a massive amount of distractions in their daily lives. Many of the distractions keep them from doing their jobs. And really that's what football is for them, a job. A job, that they may be passionate about, excessively trained for, but at the end of the day it's a job.

I know myself, I hate when people judge the quality of my job and never had worked a day in their life in my job. It's one thing if you have at least a notion of what I go through on a daily basis but most people don't and that's a plain fact.

So here we sit, November. The pear shaped queen of the Arsenal calendar. I can't fathom an idea of what is going on with the boys. I certainly wish I could. I certainly wish I had a direct line to Arsene and Rice.

I might bitch and moan about the lack of this or that. How complacency has reared it's ugly head early in the season. How the desire for a real cup should exceed all but at the end of the day I remain steadfast and loyal to my oddly shaped queen, cause she makes the best pumpkin pies.

I had planned on going into my loyalty rant. I really wanted to blast the splitters again but that is as futile as expecting a win at home during the first week in November or something else.. blah blah blah.

It's unnecessary and over done. There is a certain lack of loyalty amongst a certain group or groups of so called "soccer fans." AND Yes I did use that exact term for that exact reason. They're not football supporters. I don't believe the grand lot of them would shed blood for their club or take abuse when losing to a newly promoted yo yo club.

They can go fuck themselves just like the bad drivers on a Sunday morning. Don't expect anything from me; you've dug your own hole, go lay down in it.

~LeChat

Newcastle Away (Carling) and West Ham at Home

I am doing the double, as mid-week I had little to say. Mind you I did have healthy fear of Newcastle away but it was much ado about nothing. For once, I was able to catch the second half of a mid-week.

The night before was the annual awards ceremony for my work. We had a certain gentleman who was fired from NPR just days before speaking. Long story short, the boss said we could either come in late or leave early the next day. I prefer leaving early in general.

I made it home to catch the second half. Right good timing. At one point I sent littleblondiegooner a text, to which she replied with pure vitriol and venom. I don't know but I think being in Beverly Hills affected her somehow. Not my fault you're on the west coast. The text simply stated BENDTNER by the way.

Onward ho towards the Premiership.

Saturday was spent as many other Saturdays, with the exception of it being the day before Halloween. Which, by the way, is not the greatest of holidays for black cats as they tend to be tortured and killed around this time of year by true assholes.

ManShitty, Chelski and the Arsenal all had games on at the same time so it was a battle of wills for the main screen. ManCityhimself offered up for the Arsenal crowd, as he thought it would be the better game. I didn't really care and conceded since there were definitely going to be more of them than us. No Chelski had shown up at this point.

HalfArseDean popped in wearing an Incredibles costume. I didn't even recognize him at first as he had this big afro wig on his usually shaven head. The pub started to fill up slowly, mostly Arsenal and the rest of ManCity.

Right before kick off the Chelski boys rolled in with big grins and their usual jovial spirits. They stood about for a few minutes and found that their game had been relegated to the back. Mind, they were a bit crossed and decided to hump it upstairs.

I have to admit the ManShitty game was actually pretty enjoyable. It's going to be sad when they aren't in Europe. Um, nevermind, I lied as I won't be sad. Big team that one is, right. Right?!

Actually just got done reading an article about how they are becoming as much of a threat as MancScum. It's not that important of an article, so I'm not going to link it. Mentioning MancScum however reminds me of that Nani goal.

That goal has received almost as much attention as some others, which we won't be mentioning. Really it's not that big of a deal, is it?

Play to the whistle, the mantra that is drilled into as a 6 year old on a chilly rainy fall morning, wherever it is you were. PLAY TO THE WHISTLE!

One of the Guardian blogs quoted a Graham Poll Daily Mail column with this diddy.

Unusually this situation had two alternative endings, both right in law - let the goal stand or give a free-kick for the missed handball after consultation with Beck. Personally I would have done the latter. Of course that would have saved Gomes the embarrassment that his stupidity perhaps deserved.

Well no one really likes Graham Poll but he does make some sense here. You don't have to like him to agree with him.

It's like the conversation I was having with the Grue about German engineering and science in the early 20th century. While that end of the deal was pretty good, the engineering and technology bit; the shit that surrounded regarding the treatment of non-German peoples really screwed the whole pooch, inside out and backwards.

Seriously, good things from bad people, it really does happen that way sometimes. Not that Graham Poll is Hitler or anything like that, please don't get me wrong on that one. But there's an actual poll or was on Monday about whether the refs are biased for MancScum.

It wasn't an overwhelming majority who believed so but it was still a majority. A poll that has mysteriously disappeared, unlike Graham Poll.

Spooky, isn't it.

~LeChat

Man City Away

11 men went to play.. went to play at City!

Ah, what a great way to end the week. THREE points, unbelievable three points but three points none the less. I was convinced of the draw, even after City went down a man. Statistics has it that once a team goes down, usually the team with advantage has a hard time getting to goal.

However, like everything else, the Arsenal flaunts its shoulders against all odds. Watching the boys get out there and start kicking back, as well as gently caressing the ball along the pitch in that silky smooth way was a joy.

I swear a slight tear formed in my eye as this was starting to look like the team of old. By old, I mean even before Wenger was a household name in Islington. Ye Olde Arsenal was a tough nugget, hated throughout the league, known for kicking the sin out of all heretics and punching one in before the 90 was up.

I could wax on and on about this and that, about when George Graham took over, about when Wenger took over and changed the league, about the emergence of unknowns to penultimate super stardom, about the nastiness given to the club in the media; YEARS and years of it.

Now it looks as if a perfect storm of good ol'English stick a boot in with the smooth flavour of continental passing and speed of fleet footed footballers on beautifully manicured pitches has come to fruition.

I can really only get into the Sunday action at the pub though. Saturday was spent at my cousin's wedding. I watched the morning games from bed or on the tubes. I did download the Football Manager demo, which is pure class. If you ever were a proponent of the old SI Champ Manager, then this is the series you want to play.

So Sunday it is, made it down for the second half of the ManYoo game, which I paid about five minutes of attention to. I think I was talking to the Deputy about food or something, when the Sheriff turned around and said one of the best lines of the week.

I just love Gary Neville's balls.

YES a direct quote. He tried to recover but I know what I heard. It kind of reminded me of this picture.

 

Classic! Need a say more? Sorry Sheriff, told you it was blog worthy and so is that picture. I think it's from one of the cups but I can't remember I must have used it in a previous blog. It just goes to prove something, doesn't it.

(self edit due to the amount of emo suicides lately, don't want to be blamed)

Fine, don't get all mad at me but it's the truth. Now personally I have no problems with you loving on each other like so, that's all well and good. I mean didn't the Greeks do that as well? Just keep it in Manchester.

Anyways, by the time the ManShitty game came on, ManCity himself was quite a few sheets to the wind. He reminded me of the gentleman's wager we had going on and was proper fired up for the match. Too bad it wasn't going to be his day. Originally he was going to head to the bistro to cause a riot but he didn't feel like dealing with the American Football traffic on the south-side.

There was a good crowd on hand for both clubs, which was good to see. HalfArseDean was slumped in the corner being angry. I swear it's quite unusual for him. Myself, or so ManCity himself kept telling me, was out of sorts as well. I don't know.. I think my cousin's wedding killed my spirit. It's the middle of the first half of the football season and you're going to get married. WHAT? Anyways that's all said and done.

So today as I was doing my daily perusal of the Guardian. I found this equally brilliant quote. Now me and Michel P aren't always on the same side of the ball but this is one issue I think we both agree on. I'm just going to totally lift it, damn you copyright.

Uefa's president, Michel Platini, has claimed introducing goal-line technology will lead to "PlayStation football" but admits that referees have to be masochists to cope with all the criticism thrown at them.

He goes on to say;

One referee is not enough, not in the modern era where you have 20 cameras. It is unfair: the cameras can see everything but the referee only has one pair of eyes. Every time he makes a mistake, those cameras are there to focus on it.

Which, like I said, I completely agree with. His idea is to put goal line assistants, right behind the net. While it may be better on paper than actually in practice, I think it's not a bad idea. Ice hockey has something similar going on and it seems to work out, at least they used to, I know they review stuff every now and again but then again Ice Hockey has more play stoppages than Football.

The one true beauty in football is the flow of the game, end to end. The rules, as the Argentines and Italians would say, are a mere suggestion. It is possibly one of the most natural of all the regulated sports, in my opinion.

Joga Bonito?


~LeChat

Shakhtar Donetsk at HOME (CL)

A bit of group H action happening yesterday as the beloved Arsenal delivered the quality that they are capable of. Mind you, I haven't even looked at the game yet. I don't really see the point. I guess I could peruse the highlights but in all honesty, group fixtures really just seem pointless sometimes.

I know that's unfair statement to make, because in some ways it does matter. It matters to the teams that on paper may not look like they have any reason for being where they are. They get to prove themselves. They get to show us their mettle so to speak.

The reality of it is that while they may drag a competition out for a long, long time, it has become a necessary evil. The big boys can't just flash around the money and top named stars. They have to prove it where it counts... on the pitch.

Fairness, equality, brotherhood? Oh that all sounds too familiar doesn't it. Simply put; life is not fair, all are not created equal and brotherhood is a two way street that many simply won't cross.

It's pitiful that lofty principles and ideals are thrown to the wayside. However, it can all be sorted out with these lengthy group stages. I think there need to be more group stages, even though, like I said, they do become tedious.

Yes, that's right I am speaking in complete circles.

Could you imagine though. You arrive at the DMV/MVA and instead of waiting in line because you showed up 2 minutes after the 20 other people in line. You had a group stage to determine your final place in line. I mean it would take just as long but I don't know what kind of competition you could have at the MVA. Maybe based on how big of a fine you had to pay versus some other factor divided by your known emotional quotient multiplied by the IQ of the supervisor on duty.

I think you could get quite a few upsets out of that. OH the guy with the lost tags just dropped to 14th in line, losing to the grandma who hasn't had insurance for the 20 years. What a dramatic turn around we have here. Just goes to show, grandma sincerity trumps douchebags self-entitlement every day. She's worked hard at it.

Oh by the way, YAY EDUARDO! Nice goal and welcome back!
(I took a peek at the goals.)

Well here's hoping for a better world... tomorrow. Now back to my wine.

~LeChat

Birmingham at HOME

Suffice us to say, I just wanted to begin with that phrase. There's nothing in it, kind of like the bleating over Chamakah's penalty...there was nothing in it.

Friday

I usually don't start with my Friday revelry but I must say, the bandmates and myself found our way to Zella's (correct my spelling if needed). It's a rather nice, off the beaten path type of place in the SouthWest. The one thing I will say is definitely good, besides the lack of crappy of people, is the food. Seriously had a wonderful capri sandwich with prosciutto. I've been into eating Italian sandwiches lately, not sure why though.

Saturday

The morning started off well enough. Alright, let's say my phenomenal driving abilities and a pinch of luck allowed me to drive from one side of the city to the other with only a modicum of hiccups.

Yes the ever city clogging marathon event was occurring. I had words with one of the Arsenal faithful about heading down and she was saying it was probably a no go because of that. In my brief memory, I think the Arsenal have had games on marathon day for the last couple of years. Plus I do enjoy finding new routes and testing my tetris like mind upon the nonsensical patterns of the charmed city.

In short, it took me about 10 extra minutes, because of one wrong turn down the road of hope, which resulted in deft manoeuvre that only the Transporter is capable of. A quick trip down the expressway, double back along to Broadway and getting the wave through from the police cadet. Package delivered, i.e. myself.

The pub, of course was low on people, due to the above mentioned marathon. After a certain hour, it's about gridlock, so trip planning is crucial. However, that is not to say there weren't quite a few in there. It was a variety pack of supporters.

HalfArseDean made it in and was not his usual self. I think he threw around a cup of tea, cursed out someone and possibly even ran around with his pants about his ankles. Alright none of that actually happened, well except for the tea part but he wasn't in a good mood.

I mentioned to him that my disillusionment must be rubbing off on him. His reply was something along the lines of "Nah, people are just not right." I'm paraphrasing of course but you get the gist of it.

Later on, A Certain Scouser and the LondonTiger showed up. It was good to see him as he had been doing somethings back home for a bit. Klank and MiniMo came stumbling in for the Chelski match. They were their usually lovable selves.

Sunday

Well it was a different day to begin with all together. No marathon, just the good enjoyment of the Battle o'Scouse. A few of the regulars showed up, eventhough it may not have been their match, it's still a big match.

While I can't say I was wholly satisfied with the result. It was nice to give it out to the Red Scouse. I was suprised by the actual number of Toffees in the place though. They seem to be multiplying as well.

Mentioning the roaches now known as ManShitty, they had a great showing. A few new faces even unrelated to ManCity himself. I think they are doing a great job at promoting the pub, which is always welcomed. There was even a guy who from New York who had left a wedding so he could catch the game. Much props to him, whoever he was... he was scum anyway.

MONDAY!
! YES !
I'm including a MONDAY. If you haven't heard, Shrek Rooney is a bit perturbed at old red nose. He may be walking and I wonder to where? It would be nice for him to return to Everton but I think he's going to end up overseas. Let's just see.

~LeChat

Chelsea Away

OH how I wish this weekend panned out better. I don't really have much to say about it to be honest. Needless to say it was a good time.

The pub was chock full of people. It was essentially alive with song. Which for being a festival weekend, this was a good thing. I think it kept out the little tourist people.

So, without much to say where does that leave me? No where... that's where.

I took a look at the Guardian's analysis which was interesting, for about 2 minutes. Maybe I'm just bitter.. and angry.. no how about disappointed in the whole affair.

Here's a video


~LeChat

Partizan Belgrade Away (CL)

Lackluster and I really don't care. I mean that's what it's become. I just really don't care. I didn't rush home to take a look at the score... because I really just don't care anymore.

How in the world would you throw your soul behind our keepers?

Don't answer that?

I really don't care.

Life's funny like that, things just keep going no matter what. To tell you the truth, nothing really surprises me anymore. Well I mean I can be surprised when things go right but honestly nothing really ever goes perfect.

So you go into the game and you got 10 men, all of the sudden. You're away and what happens? OH yah, you turn it around to a 3-1 victory. However, playing a relegation bound team at your home ground you bottle like a bunch of... I'll just leave it at that.

Coincidentally, I just want to commend Chelski on it's open armed approach at accommodating OM at Stanford Bridge. It just goes to show money don't buy you class. It barely buys you trophies.

On the other hand, Tottenham are shit!

Yes.. welcome to my hate-filled Wednesday!

~LeChat

West Brom at Home

REALLY! Chelski drops points a few moments before kick off and what does the good ol'Arsenal go off and do. You know what they didn't do. Couldn't even manage a draw against a side that does the good old up and down.

My usual pub forays are becoming more or less the cause of a bad heart condition. I think this whole having hope for some silverware thing is really not good for my health. I know I sound like a pessimistic person but did you watch the game this weekend.

So what else is new? Nothing.

There was an interesting article about Anelka on CNN, no less, today. It goes on about how despite his nickname, "Le Sulk", that he really is a man of principle who let's his football do the talking for him.

They went on to compare him with the likes of Cantona and Keane. You know, I personally stood behind Nico's act of telling Domenech what he thought of him. I wish more people would have done that earlier and France, just maybe, would have done a tad bit better.

Principle, such a strange concept in today's world. For example, not to belabor a point, but it's a matter of Principle that I don't even fathom the thought about going to a certain bistro to watch my football.

I know I'm not god's gift to Arsenal supporters or any kind of supporters for that sake, but there is no way I'm going to acknowledge that place as any football pub. Hell, it's not even a pub... it's a bistro.

ManCity Himself was letting me know this weekend that we should go terrorize the place but honestly, I can't do it. It's like giving in, like saying I know that you exist and that you actually have an effect on my world. Whatever, I spent too many pixels even typing about that place.

Mentioning places to watch football, the pub recently celebrated like 7 years since being open. It's kind of interesting that I've been watching football there that long as well. Myself, GrumpyGooner and a few others of our old crew started coming down to Fells as we had grown tired of the constant annoyance known as Canton.

One of my fondest memories of the old days is sitting at bar, just me and GrumpyGooner, watching Arsenal - Chelski (before they had big money). MiniMourinho was at the other end, venting and turning seven shades of blue as The Arsenal strolled up and down the pitch.

Grumpy and I were of course having a good old laugh about the game. It's always good when you are winning. At one point, MiniMourinho slaps the bar, lets out an expletive or two, pays his tab and walks out. We knew what he was thinking and what he felt. We'd been there before as well.

I don't know why that image and day sticks out in my head so much. The emptiness of the pub or the fact that we had an unspoken conversation with another supporter, whom we didn't know from Sam or Adam.

All I know is that it, the pub, has become this place where football does reside in a city which is now beginning to have a few other options.

~LeChat

Sunderland Away then Spurs Away (Carling)

In not keeping with traditions, I'm writing this today/night. The usual Monday rants got bumped due to me laying in bed with the covers pulled over my head and feeling like some miniature mountain climber was using my esophagus as his Mount Everest.

I am not a big fan of internal pain. External pain, the stuff you can see what's going on, like a skinned up knee or what have you. I can even deal with the pain of a bruise that you get from when someone kicks you in the shin, cause you know what caused it.

I just can't deal with that weird internal stuff caused by whatever flying rhino hypno virus decides to deal you. Call it what you will but all in all the common cold sucks beans.

You know things are just going along fine, just like Saturday. Things are going along fine, never mind the missed penalty. Then all of the sudden, in the 94th minute, you're struck out of nowhere. There is nothing to do but lay under the covers and wish it all away.

Sunday, I personally was not in a cheerful mode. I decided to get up early and make my way to the Manchester - Liverpool tie. There were times I wish I had just stayed in bed. The only consolation to the whole effort was a very beautiful goal by a vampire looking of a man.

I think it was pure dumb luck that I walked back into the pub and glanced at the screen to see it happen in real time. A volley, a touch and a drop of the shoulder putting the ball over his head, off the cross bar and across the line.

Pure beauty. It's what made the other 90 minutes worth sitting through.

All I can say is that while we can watch a player on match day play absolutely horrid, we never have a clue on why the manager keeps picking him. We pray and hope that the boss knows what he's doing but we question it. We all do.

Then one play, amongst the others, shines a brilliant light through the fog that has obfuscated our vision and gives us a glimpse of what the manager sees day in and day out.

Since, I'm cheating a bit and doubling up. All I really have to say about S*urs right now is fuck off. Seriously... fuck off. I won't get to see the highlights until later and frankly knowing the scoreline. I really don't care.

Scum 1 - Gunners 4

It really would be nice if they would just fuck off. Seriously... fuck off.

~LeChat

Sporting Braga at home - CL

Funny thing about Champions league ties; you realize that there are these other leagues out there vying for something big. I don't mean the likes of Spain, France, Germany or even the Dutch. I am talking about the likes of Portugal and Russia and Scotland.

I don't mean to discount these leagues but you tend to forget that they exist at times. It's like you know there are these little bugs that eat all kinds of deterious matter but you forget they exist until they become a problem.

Somehow these little bugs will grow and grow in number. Then you have this clump of strange bugs eating at whatever these bugs eat. They start to slowly become a problem and then you go and get the exterminator.

There are times when the exterminator works fast, making short work of the bugs clumping around the object of their feast. Eventually these little bugs start to die off, leaving just a few carcass of what was once a great clump of bugs.

These bugs, maybe a few will survive and try to raise their heads. Maybe they say to themselves, "Remember the good old days. We championed over that one foot square piece of carpet. Do you remember?"

The exterminator, with all his tools continues to squirt and squirt until the bug resurgence is nothing but a stained memory on the carpet.

~LeChat

Bolton at Home

I've come to realise after my many many years of supporting a club; just how deeply my affiliation and, for lack of a better word, obsession can be.

Saturday morning, I was headed down to the pub, as usual. I had took a scant glance at the United game before leaving the homestead and not really caring about the scoreline at all. I took the not so usual path down through some of the county roads, as I needed to fuel my car up.

Now, if it isn't obvious to those that read this or know me, I am a pretty way left of center person. One thing I have no care for is the flagrant posting of your cookie cutter political beliefs on your bumper, no matter what your party affiliation.

I don't mean things like "Save the Whales" or "Protect my Guns" or anything with a direct, well intended statement of cause. I'm talking about the stupid "I'm a repub/dem/whatever nonsensical party you choose to make sure everyone else knows you are part of." Honestly, if that is how you fixate your little life, that's all on you.

Yes there is a point to all this, patience.

So I pull up to the stoplight and ahead of me is some yokel with GOP stickers plastered along the back of his not quite full grown SUV. I chuckled a bit cause it's an SUV instead of Fuckemup Pickuptruck. Now it didn't really raise my ire, as stupidity usually does but you know, it was just like, what are you really saying? Do you really believe in all this? Do you just tow the party line without thought or consequence?

Then I come to realise it is an election year, so I let it go. I will give him credit for having a sticker that said, "I'm a Reagan Republican" which was a bit different from the usual milieu of shite.

We pull up to the next light and he pulls into the lane beside another mini SUV. This one had a big old St. George on the back with England in bold letters scribed in the center. I smile, comparing the two vehicles, now I sit behind a fellow football supporter.

Not so fast, sir! 'Lo and behold, next to the St. George resided a Union Jack... and... unfortunately... it held a 10 letter word, which I can only say with the greatest disgust. He was not a football supporter. He was fucking MANC SCUM!

I sat there, gripping my steering wheel and gritting my teeth. I stared into his rear view, calling him all sorts of dirty words, hoping he would look up so I could introduce him to some sign language.

I started noticing other stickers on the back of his piece of crap SUV. MancShit this MancScum that. He had a baby on board sign that said something like Careful Little Piece of Shit Supporter on Board.

The light was starting to last too long. It finally changes and I follow him closely, hoping once he would look up. My eyes drilling into his rearview, thinking to myself, "Comeon you fuck, turn around, so I can call you a FUCK!"

I had to put this mong in his place. I looked back at the GOP SUV and shook my head. He was lucky he didn't have any MancScum shit on his vehicle. I would have probably been arrested if he did.

My attention returns fully to the MancScum SUV in front of me. I start praying he turns into the station up ahead. I was a bit low on gas, so I didn't want to risk following him all over the city, just to tell him to fuck off.

He keeps driving straight. I pull into the station, and start looking for a new victim. I had a lot of pure rage going on at this point. I ended up just angrily swiping my card and calling the gas pump a cunt, cause it started making weird noises as I was refueling.

It made me think as I drove onwards to the pub. I have always taken into account what club someone supports and use that to form the basis of opinion about that person.

Don't get me wrong, I do have a few very good friends who are MancScum supporters. I have even spoken to a couple, yah just one or two, decent, proper Scum supporters. Individually, I can say they are all good people. They know the game. They love their club. You can even have a few beers with them. They just picked the wrong ones to support.

It's a funny disease, football. If you try and get away from it, somehow it just keeps creeping back in. If you don't ever have that feeling, then you're not a proper football supporter.

Yes I am judging you.

You may watch the sport. Play the sport. You may even go take in a game or two every year, but if it doesn't affect so that others may see you as even slightly disturbed or refer to you as "the soccer guy" or some other stupid nickname. Then don't ever dare call yourself a supporter; a fan, yes, but not a supporter.

I'm going to go out on a limb and say this is probably why there is so much distaste for the American support. Yes, they did well in WC2010. The team played much better than expected. The pub was chocked full of punters, however where are those crowds now?

Someone on the street last week spotted me wearing my French kit. He made a comment about something and WC2010. I just nodded and smiled. I think he even asked something along the lines of why I was wearing it, since the World Cup was over.

I just smiled again and said, "I support France."

I didn't feel like explaining Euros to the guy. He was being nice and starting conversation but as a supporter, in general, you just grit your teeth and wish they just didn't say anything at all.

It would be like me discussing the difference between a west coast offence and nickel defence. I could tell you that one means you're attacking and the other means you're defending. I have very little idea on the intricacies of American Football and won't pretend like I do. That's just me though.

Life is funny, so is football. I am glad that I get to enjoy both.

~LeChat

Blackburn Away

I really don't know what's going on here anymore. I am totally underwhelmed at the prospect of the new season. I mean, yes it's here already. Yes, I've watched a few games. Yes, I have even jotted a few words in this space about it. However, it is a very strange feeling to it.

My hope is to have my finger on it some time in the near future because I don't like this strange unfeeling that I have going on right now. It is as if my football soul has taken a vacation, or worst has died.

I try and pick the specific date, maybe when France imploded, a little piece of LeChat also went on strike. I would have at least gotten a 4 game international ban. I am sure of that.

My rugby supporting cousin told me one time after he came back from basic training, "I think you would have hit the drill sergeant or at least let him know how you felt more than once. I don't think you would have made it out of basic without being recycled a few times."

I may be paraphrasing, as he did say it over a decade ago now, but I guess that about sums it up, so to speak.

This weekend, being only Saturday for me, saw the usual amount of revelry. I'mOnTV-gooner and Slainte Chef had a slab of breakfast food prepared, and by slab I mean a large 2 foot by 2 foot wooden board of food; which was a nice treat. I didn't ask questions about it. Someone called my name, I walked over, gave my blessing over the food, then we all dug in.

After the Arsenal had done what they were paid to do, a bunch of us hung around for the Chelski match. Like I said, nothing special happened. I guess I should say LilnotsoblondieGooner's dad was there. He had come up to hang out with the crew for a bit.

Honestly, I wish there was something spectacular or interesting to convey but really there wasn't. It was a normal-ish weekend. We were graced by the presence of DCManc and all her radiant beauty. It's always a bit of nice surprise when she makes it up. She was trying to convince me I should get on Twitter but I don't think it's a good forum for myself. I may be a bit too wordy at times or vague at others.

There was a singing out for lilnotsoblondiegooner, as she will be leaving us for the west coast in few weeks. It really says something when various affiliated supporters can get together and wish each other well. There's a certain, and I hate to say it, family feel to the whole pub culture that we've lent ourselves to.

Which reminds me of the conversations I have been having with a few of you lately. I love the feedback. Seriously though, feel free to post in the comments, whatever is appropriate. I do check every so often and will respond. I know that some prefer to blow up my FB page (is that what the kids say now-a-days) but there are those who do read who may not have access to my FB, please think of them as well.

Actually my blogger stats tell me there are quite a few hits that I know aren't bots. On that note as well, feel free to share. I am the worst self promoter in the world. Hopefully with the international lull, I'll be able to hit my normal scathing and acerbic style and give you a bit more to think about.

~LeChat

Blackpool at Home

Ah my trickery has succeeded. It was my plan all along to write on Tuesday. It was, I assure you. This weekend provided not much in the way of excitement or joviality at all. I can say it was pretty boring, in a nut shell.

It's common to assume that a win with such a big scoreline would have oneself much overjoyed but due to the lack of real teeth in the attack and a lackluster showing in the middle and back, it wasn't.

Saturday

The pub was actually quite full. There seem to be a lot more Arsenal showing up. Several faces that I have never spied before. This is definitely a good thing. They all seemed to enjoy the atmosphere from the usual suspects.

I, myself, had been in a rather quiet mode. I had things to do, places to be in the afternoon and decided it would best be to save my energy. However, it was also the last weekend for Bayern to be in town before heading to Afghanistan.

Maybe this is why there was a sort of solemn like atmosphere, even in celebration. Or the simple fact that we were running roughshod over Blackpool, who if they were a better quality team, may have given the Arsenal some trouble.

I guess the only thing that gave any real pleasantry was a small clop of Scum supporters had wallowed their way in. With out much haste, they were all seen to the second floor. Funny thing that, they seem to be multiplying like the ManShitty whorde.

I stuck around a bit for the Chelski game, just to see, or hope for a minor upset. However, we know how that ended up. Bayern had left right before kickoff and the pub faithful in attendance sung him out. It was a touching moment, but since he made mention of tearing up on FB, he's officially a poof!

I do hope he does alright and makes it back in one piece. There seem to be a lot more than usual dropping off lately.

After the half of the Chelski game, I was well tired. It was quite a bore to be honest, or I have given up on football. That I seriously doubt. I think I left around 4-nil, at that point, there is none.

I celebrated the evening with the family, being my mother's 76th and all that. It was quite nice, sitting around, making fun of everyone and just doing nothing.

Sunday

If I said I was hungover, that would be a plain lie. My cousins decided that Saturday evening would be best spent on the back porch with a bottle of 100 proof rum. I chose not to imbibe, as I was still a bit done in from the pub earlier that day.

I just hung around in my room, peeking at the MancScum score, but not really caring. I had an itch to go the pub but decided against it. I tend to spend too much money and not have much recollection of the entire process. The weekend tends to fly by, way too fast.

I decided to curl up with my laptop and watch American History X. Well I watched half of it before going to band practice. I swear I hadn't had so much anger in my mind in a very long time.

At one point, I remember sitting in a chair talking to ScouseDrummer and going in a full tilt rant about how screwed up things are with the whole political climate in the United States. How the same anti-immigrant rant done by Ed Norton in American History X was the exact same one I heard from some fat sweaty politico on the news, and the fact that racist drek is fully accepted now.

I know, preaching to the choir.

Monday

All be it an over-exhilarating day at the work place; Understaffed, OVER busy followed by computers crashing right after lunch. GrumpyGooner gives me a call and for some reason I answer it. Well it is quite odd for him to call me during the middle of the workday and figuring that nothing else bad could happen. So, I answer.

Bad Manners were playing an underground show at an undisclosed warehouse. He made it clear that it would be in my best interest to show up. I usually take him at his word.

After I got off work, I gave ScouseDrummer a call, he'd heard about it from another source and we were both trying to figure out whether we were heading down. He hadn't seen the result of the Liverpool match and I was biting my tongue not to let it blurt out.

I got to the space a bit early, so drove around the corner for a pint. By the time I came back, there were quite a few more cars outside. Walking in I was greeted by GrumpyGooner and ChelskiJohn.

ScouseDrummer had been milling about with some of the other skins and I caught up with him for a bit. It was a pretty good crowd. In the corner, on a set of couches, was NorthLondonYid and crew. He came over and we talked a bit about the Bale goal and games this upcoming week.

He went on about the Young Boys pitch being a bit dodgy and that half the squad had succumb to injuries because of it. I made mention that it must be something in the water or air or something to that effect, as the Arsenal is well aware of playing with half the starting XI out due to injury.

The show was pretty good, even though Bad Manners took their time getting on the stage to play. Scotch Bonnets, the only other band to play, had been done their set about 2 hours prior. GrumpyGooner finally went over and whispered something into someone's ear and they were up on stage... Nice one.

So that is what happened to not publishing on Monday. If anyone really cared. And for my finalé, some old school Bad Manners.



~LeChat

Liverpool Away

YES! It has finally arrived. Opening weekend of the EPL season. So enough with the frivolity, let's get down to business, shall we?

Friday

It was a really non-plus type of night. I headed home after a long day of work, sat down in front of the computer and zoned out into my own megalomaniac session of Tropico. For some reason I am finding this game to be very addicting. I think it's the fact that I can have people assassinated at my whim. As you can see, I live an exciting life.

Saturday

Bright and early sunshine. I headed my way down to the pub for the breakfast and to watch Shitty and Scum take on each other. I didn't really care who won but I will admit the atmosphere was sorely lacking and for one semi-annoying reason. MANCITY himself was not there.

I will take a minute to congratulate him for his nuptials and hope he had a wonderful time on his honeymoon.

The ManCity gremlin horde was out in force, which is a good thing, mind you they don't have the presence of ManCity Himself though.

After a bit, I decide to wander up to meet some of the Chelski lads with T-Bone at the dollar store. We took a few shots and then I remembered I left my drink with A Certain Scouser and headed back to the pub. Things have a tendency to disappear around that girl.

Drink intact, I found a standing room spot and watched the obliteration of that fine West Brom team by the Chelski. It's a bit of a shame though, when you think about it. They shouldn't have been outclassed as such.

The Chelski lads were of course in full chorus. I reminded them repeatedly that you just beat West Brom on the first day of the league... is it really appropriate? They didn't seem to care. My only hope is that Blackpool or Newcastle stick it to them. Now that would be a good day.

I spent the rest of the evening in bed. I can't even recall how that happened. I got home, passed out, woke up for about an hour and then just slept. I think I got a good 12 hours... very nice.

Sunday

People keep saying this thing about Christmas day. You know I'd been terrorizing the cyber-world with videos of Michael Thomas and the end bit to Fever Pitch (the proper one), for the whole weekend. So yah, there was a bit of anticipation for the first match.

I journeyed down early, just to get more of the free buffet. I am not going to lie about it but if I can get free Eggs Benedict with a side of bacon and breakfast tortilla, it's going to happen. I laid off the bevvy for a bit, however I found myself with a bloody mary in my hand at some point.

Rumour has it that there has been a slight Scouse division, which may be a good thing because it was still (inappropriate comment) packed in the pub. There was some strange guy there that was a suppos-ed friend of Arse St. Nick's and he was a bit off the rocker. He kept trying to trade shirts with people, very odd indeed. I had to explain why I was wearing Arsenal yellow and why it wasn't a Brasil kit.

Good news! We get to keep Bayern for another week. I need to tell him that the middle east just doesn't want him. Either way, wish him well, here or there.

Yah I know this seems a bit disjointed. I have a feeling it will all come together in the end.

Anyways, I've just been offered sushi and you know who can't resist a bit of raw fish!

~LeChat

Charity Shield (a bit late)

It's not like I really cared about it anyways. I mean it doesn't protect against dragons or anything cool like that. It's not even a real shield, just a flat plate, or so I think. I can't remember, who cares? Not I. And I'm not going to sour grapes it either.

This past weekend presented some interesting things, a warm-up for the season. Friday eve, I found myself seated in the Sidebar listening to some decent bands, along with ScouseDrummer. It was interesting to spy that the obscenely tall guitarist in one of the bands had a Leeds sticker on his guitar.

I have to admit it was a total distraction. I'd be listening to a song, bobbing my head along and then that LEEDS sticker would just pop into my view. I don't harbour any particular ill will to Leeds but I don't have any particular good will either.

Shortly, thereafter, another bloke comes strolling in the back door wearing a Chelski kit. I take note of him and his entourage and figured he was just a fly by night fan. ScouseDrummer and I gave each other a look as they walked by and both kind of chuckled. I think at one point he was daring me to go up and say something but I declined, let the boy enjoy his night, as I wasn't really in the mood for starting football trouble.

On Saturday, the Sheriff and the Deputy had a few of the locals over to celebrate pre-season/charity shield. I was thinking about just staying in but A Certain Scouser asked me for a ride up. So I swung around picked her up, we gathered some refreshments, then stopped by for Sheffield and gathered a few more refreshments.

We make it over to the wrong side of the peninsula and A Certain Scouser precedes to tell me how difficult parking is going to be, so me and infinite wisdom decided to listen. BAD MOVE. I parked my maybe 7 foot long car in a 7 1/2 foot long spot, not much room for error.

As we walked down towards the Sheriff's house, there were no less than 3 extremely large parking spots right in front. I cursed the wind and the seven seas as I walked back to my car to move it. A Certain Scouser, the whole time, assuring me that it was not like this the last time.

Anyways, the night goes on, the usual suspects arrive, Franco's Son, mentions that it's like returning back to school from summer break. I started trying to sing one of those sappy 60's surfer ballads but couldn't remember the words.

There came a time and no other glorious time in the history of being at a party when someone says, HEY what happened to the fridge magnet? Who stole it?

Everyone looks around, confused and waiting for the culprit to cough up the magnet. I hate to say that some stereotypes are hard to deny but, A Certain Scouser slowly raises her hand as she dips her head down, pulling the magnet out.

WOW!

I don't think anymore needs to be said on the subject.

We all kept the jokes going for the rest of the evening and had a wonderful time, getting back into the groove, singing songs and chants at each other, vibing on one another's affiliations and just enjoying the company of like minds.

Sunday morning saw myself roll into the pub on three wheels. It was a tricycle type of morning, as a combination of the weather, red stripe and bottle of wine from the previous night had taken a toll on my sinuses.

I sat in a half daze as Sheffield, Bayern, Klank and I watched the early Sheffield United match. It was a little lopsided on the referee's part but ended in a draw. By the time the Charity Shield started, my head was in a full uproar. I felt as if I was only half there.

I watched the first half, with not much interest and sauntered my way out of the pub and off to band practice. My head still feeling like it was 10 feet wide. I never had a migraine but I think this might have qualified for one.

So what is there to look forward to? Another season of EPL, some ups, some downs, good times and bad, with hopefully a nice piece of silver for the Arsenal.

~LeChat

Emirates Cup o' Noodles

Ahhh the first brilliant weekend of the return of some preseason club football. I have to say, in general the weekend in the city proved to be a very interesting confluence of absurdity.

To begin with, there as the anime convention, which brought out a whole lot of people carrying very large swords and wigs with spiky hair. I think Chamakh was trying to do the same thing with his excessively moussed hairdo.

Then there was the ManShitty - Inter game, which welcomed the antics of some very odd acting football supporters. There is one thing I can say about some of the Mancs that did appear around the pub.

There were no surprises... none at all.

Friday Night
I took in the atmosphere surrounding the unveiling of the ManShitty plaque in the pub. The night started off slow enough but there were good times to be had. My plan was to get there early and hang out a bit.

SlainteLOSC greeted me at the door and we sat near the front waiting for some others to show. I think he was working but you never know with him.

We were plotting on finding Materrazzi and giving him a Baltimore Welcome.

SlainteLOSC made a few phone calls, however, the cheating Italian piece of shit was up in Philadelphia. I think they realized the French Resistance was out for blood or there were too many things named after Lafayette, either way they were not in town until right before the game.

Je t'aime Zizou!

TheCleanOne showed up in his normal cheery mode with Chelski hat fondly on display. Sheffield and WestBrom popped in a few moments later and the corner was now secured. A few Mancs had wandered in from the docks; I only assume that's where they come from.

A few more of the local crew dropped in and that's about the time some of the songs started going on. I think there were some ManShitty uppity folks in suits that assisted with the unveiling but the corner didn't really seem to pay it much mind. We were all busy catching up and prattling on about whatever it is we prattle about.

After the whole ceremony, there were some pictures taken and Blue Moon was sung about 20 times. By this point, Brendan Pelan had set up his guitar and amplifiers, as it was the night he usually plays music, and at that point T-Bone and the Librarian decided to take flight.

Brendan picked up on the Shitty fans singing Blue Moon and started playing along and they started singing a bit louder. I think another couple of songs were played and in one of the breaks You Fill Up My Senses came out of the locals. Brendan also picked up on that as well.

I think he said something to the point of, "Hey I like that song." It was about 5 minutes later, he started playing the original song (Annie by John Denver) and invited us to sing You Fill Up My Senses again. I think we did about 3 times in a row before he went back into singing Annie.



Now you will not get that song out of your head. You're very welcome.

Saturday
Last season the pub showed the Emirates cup. This season, the pub showed the Emirates cup. It's always nice to see some pre-season stuff, sort of puts the taste in your mouth.

When I arrived ArsenalSteve was already sitting there. He had just came back from New York. I didn't ask why, figured it was best that way. We talked a bit about the upcoming season and after a short bit a journalist with cameraman come into the pub. I thought I had seen them outside but didn't pay much mind.

I was in no mood to deal with journos at this time of the morning. They interviewed ThePantsManager and he sent them our way. I remember the journo shaking my hand and quickly declining camera time, shoving it upon ArsenalSteve. My excuse was he's much better looking than me in the morning and the reality of me actually being to shy to talk about football on camera.

I stood in the background with MySonWill pretending to have a conversation about the game on the screen. The whole time we were just making fun of the reporter and the fact that IrishDave kept flirting with her.

My understanding is there is some footage of me that made it onto the television. I still haven't seen it but wish I could find it, just to link it.

Saturday Night
The actual night of the ManShitty-Inter game. I had a show, which I do thank the gods for that. I am so glad I was unable to join in the shit show that was to be. My understanding is that later, after the game, some ManShitty scum had a few too many, jumped up and ripped down the MancScum flag from outside.

Seriously, I, myself have joked about it but find no good reason to do something like that, in a pub on Thames in Baltimore... seriously?

I know, club is important but sometimes you need to keep that and yourself in check. From what I've been told, his friends were a might bit embarrassed and put him in a cab on his way home.

Sunday
Emirates cup glory once again. I got to watch a bit of O'Lyon play. I still love that team. I remember I had a chance to get a kit from a silent auction a couple years ago and flubbed on it.

MySonWill expressed his frustration about the Shitty game from the night before. He said his biological dad, who I think is from Charlton, was very annoyed at the whole game and atmosphere. That seems to be the general consensus.

While I was hoping for something along the lines of the Chelski-Milan match, for the sake of football itself, it seems that did not happen. There was less excitement, less hype and lot less to be desired.

At the end of the day, ManShitty is not a big club and Inter is a shadow of its former self and then there is the World Cup factor. It was broadcast at more or less appropriate times, so there may have just been an over-saturation of football, for a country that doesn't know how to cope with it or even begin, or want to begin, to understand the game.

Anyways, club has started to sow its seeds back into every day life. I can start breathing again. 90 minutes on a Saturday afternoon, that is the life!



~LeChat

FAILURE

-interview excerpt clipped from Arseloba Magazine.

M. LeChat, apparently you failed at picking who would come out of group and beyond. Can you explain this to us?

That's correct. I am no ocotopus. I can't believe I got beat on my picks by an 8 armed freak that lives in an aquarium. Seriously, who would have thunk it.

Is that your excuse or better, the reason for your failure?

What do I have to say for myself, absolutely nothing. The cup this year had a fair number of surprises and we're edging up to a final that is probably the least enthralling since... I don't know when. I am not that old, even though there are some who may beg to differ.

What was your desire for the final?

I was really hoping for a minnows versus shark final. Now, we have a bloated whale versus whale plankton eating fest. *le sigh*

Can you hear the whale song?
HOoOOOOOoooland.. spAIIIIIIIIIIINN.... ppppsshshhhhhhh
Last bit is blowhole noise, if you don't know what whales sound like, I suggest you go to one of those new age hippie shops and buy a soundtrack.

Do you at least plan to watch the game?

I will take my normal stroll and head to the pub for the action on the weekend. I will just be there for the football though. I don't really care which side ends up with the cup. Sure, it would be nice for Spain to bring it and it will make me stop with all my paella and gazpacho jokes.

So, any regrets M. LeChat?

My only regret is I didn't get to watch enough games with the local crew. Well that and having to endure the incessant babble from the rabble, which more or less subsided once certain squads got knocked out.

So the crowds were mostly rabble?

No, not at all. It was a good crowd for most every game, that I attended. You know this is good for football in general. I would love to see a regular crowd show up in August when the EPL kicks off but that is just mere wishful thinking on my part.

You don't see the crowds being around come start of the European seasons?

Meh, maybe for the first couple, as it will be right after the ManShitty and Inter game on July 31st. It would be nice if the football fever stuck around, but come the middle of November, they'll be gone. You may get one or two, but it would be a pleasure to have a few more.

Mentioning the EPL and European seasons, what is your take on the Arsenal transfers?

I don't discuss those until I see the man kick the ball in red and white.

There have been two confirmed signings, what are your thoughts?

I do not discuss those.
*glaring at the reporter*

Well, um, alright, what are your feelings on the French meltdown?

The FFF meltdown was bound to happen. Domenech should have been fired years ago. Gallas has a short blurb in the Guardian about it. I mean, he's not the say all and be all of French football but he does make the point I've been making for the last few years.

So mentioning the French, how do you think Koscielny will pair with Vermaelen?

*throws litter box at reporter*

~LeChat

Implosions and Classic French Novellas

I've been keeping my head low on the whole thing. Yes, I've got your messages and texts and fb posts and e-mails. I just haven't cared to respond to anyone on this at all besides a nod and a smile.

When it first went down, was I surprised? NON!

Should I have been? NON!

Should anyone have been? NON!

Why in the world am I here then? Typing this thing that's been done to death like the off-sides call that wasn't because the ref didn't call it. Those things don't beat your team, not scoring long before the call even mattered are the things that beat your team.

Referees are human, however highly or lowly you think of them. They miss calls.

Managers are for the most part human with the same caveat.

Players who make millions off the backs of supporters.... are human and are prone to err. Whether through their inane personas, lack of purpose in big games or general overall stupidity, these things are the things that remind us that they are human.

Professional and World class football has a way of making us, as animalistic and barbaric as we can be at at times, forget that these people are in fact just like us in many ways. They have fears and regrets, moments of clarity and insanity, loves and hates. They bleed when cut, perspire when hot, and after a long night of drink and curry... their shit does stink and probably burns if it is the hot Thai curry that tastes so good.

All that I am saying is that when a squad has lost its faith in the leadership, things do happen. It is a pity that it happened on the big stage with the lights shining down and the curtain wide open during a public dress rehearsal but that's life, isn't it?

The fact that these things happen to teams all the time, usually in a more private matter. I am betting no one remembers the year Brasil struggled through the group stages and barely made it into the Eight... I remember.

What happened? Brasil had a big collapse and lost faith in the manager. The squad had a ton of infighting and as usual, politics were playing a major role, instead of the football. These things happen to every team and many times, not usually at the final tournament but it does happen.

There is no team that wears a mighty armor that can not be undone by the tiniest of thorns.

So where does this leave me? Who shall I be supporting now that Les Bleus are gone? I have no idea and I need to wait until the dust settles.

Je me souviens.

~LeChat

England - US WC2010

The day started off quite good enough. HalfArseDean gave me a call about 5:30 so that we could stake claim to the regulars section. After doing all the regular morning rituals, I found myself meeting up with him, ManCity himself and The Manager in Black. Apparently MIB was still working from the night before, so it was a bit of a surprise.

It was interesting to see a few US supporters straggling in at the early hour. Actually it was more than a few, quite a bit I must say. At this point in time, the pub was beginning to look like a normal Saturday. The bar was full, a few of the regulars were spread amongst the couches, a murmured anticipation for a match to be shown and A Certain Scouser, who said she would be there... was still not there. The Librarian even called her... no answer.... typical!

Right around kick off for the first game, we had added a few Greek fans and a nice bunch of Korea supporters. They were all keen on watching the game, which was a brilliant show for the South Korean lads. It was a good mood all about.

By the end of that game, many more US supporters had come through the door. A few more of the regulars had shown, thus establishing the corner under the big screens and the couches for the late comers. It was a victory in our minds at least. This way we'd all be together.

A comment was made to me about myself and the regulars were being a bit "snooty", after I had mentioned not being fond of particular supporters. I shrugged and said "it's not really that but the attitudes of some of the newer people, especially supporters of a certain national team, is a lot less to be desired."

I was then pressed a bit to give a more elaborate answer, which I avoided. Honestly, I just like watching football with those who I know understand the game, have serious passion for the game and for the most part, live the game.

So, do we as regulars have an Us vs. Them complex at times, in short, Yes. Football is a territorial sport to begin with. In it's simplest form, it's all about controlling your territory and pushing the enemy or opponent back deep into theirs, overcoming their defensive line and putting one through past the minder.

You could use that analogy for many sports but it actually fits rather perfectly for Football and the derivatives or cousins, depending with whom you are speaking, that being American Football and Rugby.

So, I wouldn't say the regulars are "snooty" because we are a rather welcoming group. I know there were a few sitting with us who were not regulars but may have showed up for a game over the season or just met one of their friends down there once or twice. I'm sure they would have a very different take on the territorial regulars. Basically it comes down to being respectful of the game, the pub and the people, not very hard but some people can't help but to be an ass.

By the middle of the Argie - Nigeria game, the pub was beginning to meet maximum capacity. I think the fire marshal even peeked his head in for a few minutes. Our corner actually waved to him and he nodded and laughed. It was nice to see Nigeria not doing half bad and their keeper was on spot. It would have been even more beautiful to have seen them with a bit more bite in the final third.

After the game, came the long wait for the matinee match. I believe all the English regulars had shown up by this time and a few who were not but they joined us up in the front. The songs began flowing, most of it was one way traffic. However, the extreme number of US supporters did bring their couple of chants to a deafening level. I will say that was quite brilliant.

At some point in time, SlainteLOSC dragged me outside to be interviewed for some documentary that was being done by the pub. I was totally unprepared and hate being on the wrong side of the camera. I can't even actually remember what I said, besides my name and that I supported Arsenal and France and that the pub was a great place to watch the games.

It's funny. I can ramble on and on about the game and the cup and all sorts of things but put a camera in front of my face, without any prompts and being by myself. It does become rather odd for me. I think he was trying to capture my soul.

I spent a few hours trying to settle in to a good spot in the middle of the crowd, so I could see the game and be able to speak to some of the crew. It was nice that some of my mates that I had been watching football with since 2000-2001(?) season were there. Some of the original 6, three had moved away and one had a couple of kids. GrumpyGooner and myself were the only two left that show up for games on the regular now. However, Jazz was able to put the tykes in England kits and leave them with mom and Derm had some work in the area.

I remember when we all really became close after watching a couple of seasons in Canton (the pub had not opened yet and was another bar). We had found ourselves watching the Euros in Si's basement. England-France and England were up for most of the game. The texture of the game turned in a matter of moments. Mind you this was the France of Zizou and Henry, which had the capability of scoring at any given moment. I won't relive the whole show but let's just say the originals all have a healthy respect for each other and thank god for that. France won 2-1 in extra time after being 1-nil down the whole game.

So it was nice to see the lads gathered together. However, like I have been saying without saying it, the game would be tainted by some of the supporters. First instance, which happened during the Nigeria game, was one of the more annoying fans, who had been there since 630 or so, decided to walk up to Girlfriend, who just happened to be the only obvious England supporter at the pub at the time.

Girlfriend was ready for something to happen as the guy seemed a bit aggressive for no reason at all. At this time, I had returned to the table and Bayern started removing his sunglasses and watch. The guy was blabbering on about something and Girlfriend nodded his head a few times, then the guy's posture changed and he wished him luck.

However, instead of leaving it at that, the guy goes into some weird Irish accent and said a few more things before walking away. We all look at each other and were completely dumbfounded. We chuckled as the tension for a possible aggro situation died down.

A second situation came about during the match. I'm sure there were some minor ones in the middle there but nothing as egregious as this one. I was standing near the front of one of the tables and one of the random US supporters was near me, he kept bumping into me, which wasn't a big deal at all, just a bit annoying, but it was crowded so benefit of the doubt.

At one point in time, this dude, who looked like a cheap copy of Johnny from the Karate Kid, turns around and is asking about people supporting England. He then goes on to say something to the effect of "There aren't any black players on the English team." DJM and myself were like "What did you say?" in unison, none the less. I am quite glad that DJM also heard the guy, so I didn't think I was going crazy.

Fake Johnny goes on with, "Well there's Ledley King but that's it."

I am looking at him like he's gone completely nuts, I think DJM might have said there were plenty of black guys on the English team and that Fake Johnny was crazy. Fake Johnny, however, insisted on continuing and turns to ask me "Who else?"

I point up to the screen and told him, "You are blind, just look." And I kid you not, there were three black English players on the screen at the time, as if on cue. I shake my head at him and start naming them but the guy would not let the conversation go.

He started telling me something about his adopted brother who was black. I'm just looking at him, trying not to hit him and shaking my head. I let him know, under no uncertain terms that I basically did not care and to drop the conversation and watch the game. I may have said it to him about 3 or 4 times but he was testing my patience.

He asked me if I knew someone that played in Germany. I told him I didn't because I don't watch German football and could care less. Still this dude was trying to have a conversation, in which I just ended it by telling him to "fuck off and watch the game," then I removed myself as it and myself was about to go off.

I squeezed pass the Evertonian and put myself in the corner with the Originals, Sheffield and T-bone. They immediately caught wind of what was going on from the look of my face and my balled up fist. I explained the situation and one or two stated that if he keeps it up, we'd have him a bit later but just enjoy the match for now.

The most brilliant moment came when Heskey slid into Howard and giving him a bit of cleat to the chest. One of the originals started in with, "HESKEY IS A BLACK MAN" chant, to which the whole English corner joined in, as we all glared at the back of Fake Johnny's head.

I noticed shortly after Fake Johnny was outside speaking with DJM, not sure what was being said but I'm hoping he understands that just because you have an adopted black brother who plays some football, does not preclude you from being the typical idiot that you are.

I hate to say this is what I usually run into with US fans. They automatically look at me and assume I'm a US fan, like them. My only guess is because I have dark skin and speak English at least this one notion that my mother keened me into, wise woman that she is. I ran into a couple more situations, not as grand as the one with Fake Johnny, but very similar.

Some dude, and yes I'm calling all the ones that bothered me dude as it's so appropriate, stops me on my way back from the toilets. He said something about who I was supporting and then something about communists. Once again, where do these things come from? I must have gave him a strange look and told him I was Canadien and not to bother me which threw him off as he didn't know what else to say except "Fuck you." When I looked back at him he threw up his hands and said he was kidding.

Honestly, come on now, this is the way the rest of the world views the US Soccer nation, Sam's Army or whatever name they are going by at this time. It was a very poor showing. I remember another US fan grabbing me and talking to me for a brief few moments. A very nice guy, yes there were a few, actually he reminded me of ArsenalBob. I'm guessing he figured I wasn't there for the US and he asked me why I looked so angry. I told him that some of his other US supporters were in short, "a bunch of dicks." He reassured me that not all of them were like that, I nodded and we shook hands wishing each other luck and good times.

All in all, despite the minor headache of dealing with the general rabble of US supporters displaying their typical selves, it was a good time. Watching football with some of the Originals and many of the regulars. It's nice that we don't have to wait the 2 1/2 months to see some good games. Let's hope the rest of the days are equally fun, with a lot less stupidity.

~LeChat