And the hits keep a coming...

Yah I know the titles have left their usual format. Does it really matter? Perhaps no.

It comes down to a win away and a champions league draw to OM. I can't complain about that. OM is a tough team on a bad day. In their honor, I will listen to Keny Arkana, which seems quite appropriate at this juncture in time.



By the way, I find it astounding how many people simply have no clue about what is going on in the world around them, even in their own backyards. Quite disappointing really, this is why I put no faith in people who only wish to rise to the top without stopping to actually smell the daisies. It's all about how fast and not about having any kind of quality to life.

I, myself, am not the be all and know all of anything. However, I will not shrink away from enjoying my life instead of not enjoying it only to earn a few platitudes. The platitudes will fade and become fading script on an old newspaper or useless data on some computer disk somewhere in the world. It's all for naught if life is never enjoyed.

Anyways, enough of my raging. The future is here. HA! The future is fucked.

Come first of the year, maybe before or after depending on my level of lazy, the blog will hopefully be moving to my own domain. The plan is actually to do a 365 blog, for a number of reasons but there is a lot to say, er write.

I actually need to do some planning, sit down and decide which way I want it to look and feel. As you may have figured it will be a bit away from this one, yes there will still be the Football connections as well as some other things; Music, Art, Technology, Commentary, Politics, Philosophy, but most of all simply me and everything that means.

I think therefore I am; I write because I fucking can.

-LeChat

What? They won? YES!

Well what a dynamic weekend!

First things first, Saturday, I was working. Now I really do enjoy the fact that may job is meant to help out the less fortunate, however weekends... working... well I do need money from somewhere. I shouldn't bellyache about things like that and just get on with it.

Mind you I do have a soft spot in my heart for Norwich... go'on Canaries! 'ave em!

Sunday was a much more productive day. The Arsenal faithful were dealt the normal cards and seated in the Arsenal section, in the back of the pub. While the main event, MancScum v. Shitty was appearing on the bigger screens.

It was well worth it.

Since ManCity Himself decided to take a vacation to a small Caribbean territory, the One and Only decided to take his place. It was quite funny from where I sat. You could hear her voice above all the rest. The normal, quiet, reserved English lass had dropped the gloves and was out swinging.

Honestly, she made up for the lack of ManCity Himself not being there. Johnny and the boys couldn't piece together a proper song to save their lives. Well seeing that I never spied half of them before and that goes for both sides of the ScummyShitty fence.

I do want to give a hearty congrats to the Shitty though, still not a big team but keep it up and some day you'll be like your more well known and overly marketed cousin. I dare not call them brothers or the whole of Manchester would probably burn down. Aw what the hell, cousin-brothers!

The rest of the afterglow was spent chatting with Vincenzo and Camo about various things before and after the dismantling of Chelski at the hands of who? I don't know some Park Rangers or something, haven't been in the league in 15 odd years or so. Bad thing is, I actually remember when they were in the top flight. Back before the money moved in and the chairman lost his soul. Back when I could play 90 minutes and not complain about my ankles the next morning. Back when I was satisfied reading the Monday paper on Tuesday for match reports of the past weekend.

I could go on but that would be pointless.

One that note.. did anyone notice Wright-Phillips played on the left and Joey Barton on the right wing! I could tell my other joke but it's not good for mixed company.

Now for Girls Aloud! (aka The One and Only and her crew)
I know half the pub didn't get that joke, which is even funnier!




c'est la vie
~LeChat

Sunderland at Home

Another pleasant weekend goes by, and the Arsenal take three points. I would guess that I should be taking away some satisfaction but the reality of it all is that it feels quite hollow. Three points is three points, no matter what, right? I don't give in easily with that philosophy but I do understand it.

Saturday at the pub was quite fun. The Scousers and Mancscum seemed to make it a game. Which at the end of the day, is what you really want to see. The mega blow out things are a bit... lacking... For lack of a better word.

The marathon kept a couple people pinned in to our little bubble which wasn't a bad thing. It's nice when folks stick around a bit. That hasn't been happening much at all lately. Myself, Camo, and HalfArseDean made a day of it though, even caught up with ACMilan, who was his usual self.

Sunday... well outside of the fact that I thought the game was at 10, was pretty nice. All the regular cast of characters, who jeered me for showing up in the middle of the second half, so sort of a homecoming, in an odd sort of way.

Afterwards, I found myself, Ginger, and SlainteLOSC surrounded by Geordies and Scum. Some new scum, I'd never spied before. They seemed a nice enough lot but not ones who have been bled upon the altar before.

One, who I know was kidding, asked if I had Adebayor's name on my kit. Of course I sneered in my sneery way and said, “I don't put anyone's name on my back, least of all a mercenary like half your lot.”

He laughed a bit nervously. Maybe between that and me saying earlier that he was lucky I couldn't find a knife fast enough to stab him when he had sat down next to me. Albeit they did put the one lads girlfriend between me and them. I don't think it was on purpose but it did happen.

Whilst I was waiting for my check, this guy comes up to me, introduces himself and starts asking about the game. I mention that I only made it down for the second half. Then he asks where I watch the Arsenal games. My reply of course was “Here, This is my home-bar.”

The next words that come out of his mouth were something something bistro. I took a deep breath and shook my head, “I don't go to that place.”

This led into a long conversation. He explained that he actually helps out preparing the place for the games and what not. He also mentioned how a certain person has made himself quite a few enemies. I explained to him the reasons why I don't patron that place and how I felt about, in gentle terms.

Mind you, the guy was simply a nice guy but he kept trying to convince me to go over to the bistro for a game. I tried being a nice and diplomatic as I could about it before finally tiring of the conversation, but it kept going for some odd reason.

Now I know exactly how it feels to be tapped up when your happy playing for your own club or in this case watching the football at your home-bar.

Ginger had been waiting patiently, while me and the bistroguy chatted, so I conveniently slipped in that we both needed to go and nodded towards her. He let me escape,  but seriously it made me wonder if he had come over on a recruitment mission and I just happened to be the only one left.

Who knows? All I can say, as I have said before, I will never be setting a foot in that bloody place.

~LeChat

Tottenham Away

From the looks of it, the wheels have fallen off.

All in all, amongst other things. The weekend was not half bad. I have to admit the festival was pretty nice, not a lot of big crowds and plenty of fun times. I guess at these moments of time, you have to stick with the positives.

I am really at a lost of words. I don't want to dwell on the failings because that does no one any good at the moment. I could whine and moan and grumble about sorts of things... things that have just been repeated ad nauseum.

It is a great big sigh.

So what now?

I watched the Cass Pennant movie the other day. Worth a look, if you're interested in football, ICF, and just an overall story of being black in the western world. 

OH! I did have this wonderfully big cheese steak on Saturday. Also a cat just licked my face. Then there were the pit beef sandwiches. Tasty as usual. I guess that is the best thing about the festival: the food.

I really had an inkling to get some stuff from the latin garden or whatever they were calling the upper area this year. It smelled so good plus I dig some bachata music.

I don't know. This has become a pure non-sensical ramble.
 


~LeChat

Some stuff and some other things.

I don't even know where I am on the season any longer. I suppose there is a champions league thing going on within the next day or so. That's nice.

All in all, this perspective has got me thinking. I think a lot and it usually gets me into trouble. However, I am beginning to understand how certain club players feel at the end of the day.

You sit there, give your all for your club; maybe some internationals thrown into the mix. Then for some reason, things going on in your life or whatever, start distracting you. Your 20+ goal season in the league has now become around 8 - 10 and you're just feeling like you're on cruise control. You've taken the playmaker role and have started to drop a little deep while a younger more pacey finisher has come up from the academy.

You shrug, the captain's band graces your arm. You deserve it. Showing the strength and leadership throughout the seasons, even when the tide of good fortune is rolling out.

Then some yokel starts complaining about you being half the player you used to be and how you haven't scored in a month of Sundays. That setting up plays doesn't make goals.

You scratch your head and look around. Isn't this a team sport? Don't we depend on each other working like a cog to get a final result?

So you thought, as the nimble toed winger dances through the box and you hit the ball just within his reach, so he can round the keeper and put another one into row z. At the end of the day, somehow this is all your fault; a working cog in the machine that has just gone off rails.

Hmm, maybe I should put in that transfer request. I only have 2 years on my contract and it could all end next week by being the recipient of someone's badly time challenge... now where is my agent?

~LeChat

Swansea at Home, Borussia Dortmund (CL)

So much talk, still, about the 8-2 dismantling of the Arsenal by the hands or should I say feet of the MancScum that you would think the season was over... in September. It can be like that, life, over-dramatic and unnecessarily inaccurate (double negative, I know). We tend to forget about what will happen the next week or the week after that. It's not all fatalistic.

I have a grand idea, let's keep watching until May, then decide what the story was/is going to be.

The next week has happened. It wasn't the overwhelming success that one would think for a top whatever side against a newly promoted Swansea but there is that shred of hope. Even in the darkest hour there shall be light.

I never quite understood how one can have some thing that at the time seemed so debilitating, so overwhelming, so dreadful, be the end all and be all. It may have been about 3 years ago now, during the apex of the whole mortgage foreclosure crisis in the US. A woman decided to throw herself off the topish floor of a garage downtown. It caused a bit of a mess.

Now, that is a way to go, about 10 floors of just free-fall and hitting the ground. While, I never got a full clear story about why she did it, the only thing I could think is, “what was the trigger that made her do it.” I have no idea whether she was married or had children or even elderly parents to look after. The whole thing comes off as a really selfish act, albeit, quite a dramatic one.

At the end of the day, you have to ask yourself, were the problems she had really that bad? Did the issues she have really affect her in a way that there was no other way out? Like I said, I'm not her and I couldn't have any possible way to know what was going through her mind or what pushed her over the edge in such a manner. I wonder if anyone ever helped put it all in perspective.

Perspective, I guess that is the most important thing. Keeping everything in perspective. Sure an 8-2 loss seems like the end of the world. Sure 6 seasons with no proper silverware seems like an end to an era but the reality of it is... it's not.

A few trades, Swansea and Borussia Dortmund later, there is a whole new look, a beacon at the end of a really long and dark tunnel. The only hope is that the beacon of light is not a train but actual light.

Funny thing about that analogy, I've been hiking through a tunnel when a train decided to come by. Mind you and me, not the most fun thing in the world to have happen. However, it could have been worst...much worst.

~LeChat

Udinese CL and United Away

My mind says I should have written this about a week ago. My heart says I was right to wait a bit before putting something down. I'm not going to dwell on the victory or the loss. What's the point in doing that now?

So here we are, the close of the transfer window that had quite a few last minute decisions made. I can't say either way but sometimes in life you got to make decisions. Sometimes you have to say am I going to keep letting this happen or do I just make a firm decision. I assume the later happened for now we see Benayoun and Arteta pulling on the red and white.

I can neither be shocked nor surprised. In reality, I care about as much as... wow, can't even come up with a proper analogy. By the way, I'm about to drop kick blogger in a minute; keeps refreshing in the middle of sentences.

Two weeks ago, whilst watching the utter demise of the sp*rs followed by the superior drubbing of the Arsenal. It was quite interesting to have this odd fellow go on a tirade about spending for players and having a plan and other such nosh. When in fact the only way to get his point across was to get exponentially louder when anyone offered any differing opinion. No sense in trying to have a practical conversation about football at that point.

It is as if the blinders had been put in place and there was nothing you could say or suggest that would make a difference. I don't want to compare that with a current political rhetoric that is occurring right now and has been for the last 10 years or so. I really don't understand it nor shall I try.

Full circle and I still lack an analogy for not caring and wanting to drop kick something for the sake of just drop kicking something. The dull thud of foot to body contact or better yet the hollow thunk of hitting someone directly in the chest cavity.

Anyways, the last couple of weeks; a sound thrashing at the hands of MancScum, an earthquake, a hurricane (that wasn't too bad), a few decent trades, and a grand prix that people decided to complain about. I like to agree with one observant fellow who stated, "you knew about it for over a year!"

Thank you and good night.


~LeChat

3 games 1 blog

Well 2 plus one qualifier have passed. And yes this is my first actual blog of the season. I wasn't up to writing at all this summer or even towards the end of the season. Isn't it time for us to get reacquainted. This blog itself became a concept in my mind several years ago, after my umpteenth reading of Fever Pitch. If you haven't read it and claim to be a football supporter, then I'd put it on your summer/autumnal reading list. Basically, the author parallels his ups and downs in his life with the ebb and flow of a certain North London club's season. I'll just say it's a good read and there have been two movies made out of it. (One for an American audience with the Red Sox as the team... *grumble*)

Now that was not my only inspiration, or should I say push to make the concept come to fruition. There have been several other books written on the discourse of how society and culture relate to football. And there is no denying that it has become so entwined in the very lives of some peoples that it permeates every aspect of culture.

Why is this important? 

It is what this blog is about; my society, my culture, my life and how football impregnates it, parallels it and frankly can make a right mess of it. I don't really care about how many kilometers player x ran or whether or not player y got traded on for 50 million quid and a very nice looking sheep. There is plenty of coverage of that... stuff... is it necessary to have another blog about it?

So here, I lay out my life, my thoughts and my general ideas about everything and it's relationship with the one thing. It would be easy to say that I have some clearly obsessive tendency but that is not the case. However, it should be noted that football is the glue that can bring some very divergent minds together. It's a beautiful thing.

I can have a conversation with the rest of the world; agree, disagree, or come to an agreement to disagree, yet at the end of the day, still respect that opinion. That's the real beauty of it. The game itself is just a backdrop. It would be nice if we could all sit down for a pint, maybe those in white castles could have a better understanding of those in the favela, perhaps?

Who knows?

What I do know is that I spent the last two weekends at the pub. Back in action with a few familiar faces and some that I have never seen before and more than likely not see much often after. While I might pretend to not want any newbies showing up, it really is a good thing. It shows there are those out there who just might get drawn into the fold. Someone for whom a spark will light off in their dim, mundane, every day existence and will finally be welcomed as an us, rather than a them.

I might get accused for treating football supporters like an exclusive club, but it's obvious, there is a certain pretext to it, an underlying evolution that has occurred in each and every supporter at one time or another. It is the glue that binds as well as causes cruddy things to stick, whether we like it or not; drunken, violent, territorial, loud and sophomoric. I stop short of moronic because that is simply unfair; morons receive benefits and treatment.

These are the things that football supporters are accused of around the world; not to mention homophobia, xenophobia, nationalism and racism. We, ourselves, know this to be a minority and shouldn't let it taint our love and love others have for the game.

It is quite sad that this is on my mind at the start of a season. It is a bitter reality, a pill to swallow. In order to know beauty, one must also know ugliness. Another cliché would be that beauty will prevail above all else. Let's hope it does and the rest of the season is a beautiful one.

Bridesmaids!

I bet that is how the old MancScum are feeling about now. I know this blog is about a day late and always a dollar short. This weekend did prove quite interesting overall.

Saturday started off with a few coordination issues but eventually we all ended up where we needed to be at the right time. Champions League final at the pub. It was also the pre-celebration of HalfArseDean's birthday.

The few of us who had met up at the dollar store rolled around to the pub. The pub was packed. A lot of familiar faces showed up. It was like an end of the year homecoming, if that homecoming had a ton of MancScum that you've never really spied before.

I'm not complaining, just making a point. Most of us did our best to ensure there was an atmosphere of sorts. Even Karate Kid Johnny decided to give it a go and tried to get his fellow Scum supporters into it. He was a bit successful and now a bit more respected.

That's all it takes, really. If you show up, support your club and take your lumps, you get the respect. If you show up, act like an ass when your lumps are given to you, then you can fuck off to the bistro.

At the end of the day, we decided to keep the party going a bit for HalfArseDean. He's a good person and an impromptu party/bar crawl is what he needed. Good times.

Monday saw what was to be a disappointing promotion final for Reading. Myself, Ginger, the Librarian and HalfArseDean showed up at the pub to support. Vinnie, found himself in a seat at Wembley. We were hoping to spot him on the television but weren't so lucky. I guess it wasn't anyone's day, well except Swansea who will probably pick up a point at the Grove next season.

So a weekend of ups and downs, good friends and better drinks. One can't complain about that. Now off to the summer things...

....whatever that is.



You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you. You'd be like heaven to touch. I want to hold you so much. At long last love has arrived. I thank God I'm alive. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you.

Pardon the way I stare. There is nothing else to compare. The sight of you leaves me weak. There are no words left to speak. But if you feel like I feel. Please let me know that it's real. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you.

Bahdah Bahdah Bah dah da da da, Bahdah Bahdah Baaaah!

IT'S AR-SE-LOBA la la la laaa lalaa
It's Arseloba la la la laaa lalaa
It's Arseloba, Arseloba FC

The GREATEST team, that no one has ever seen!

(just a frame of reference. let's get the shirts started)


~LeChat

And now what?

So a fourth place for the Gunners. I could go on and on about things being unacceptable this season but why beat the horse.

The last EPL weekend at the pub saw most of the regulars there. However, the lack of a decent game being shown was disappointing. Myself, well I was more interested in some of the more important relegation battles.

The major networks decided that ManYoo game should be shown. I guess they were playing Blackpool but really? There were many more interesting match-ups this Sunday.

Saturday was a more positive day overall. Met up with SlainteLOSC and a few others to watch Lille solidify Ligue 1. It was a good day for him and I was pretty happy to spend it with the crew that showed up and supported.

Anyways, continuing on, the after-party on Sunday was quite fun. It was a fond farewell to some of the faithful who will not be with us next season. And, overall, it was nice to be surprised by the MancScum at the dollar store.

Now thinking about next week, there will be a fun CL final. I know where my non-Arsenal allegiances lie. Here's hoping for a good quality final and not a boring 9 men behind the ball affair that is just plain boring.

~LeChat

37 and done!

Well I cannot leave for long. I know some people have been asking what happened to the blog. Well the answer was/is simple... I had quit. I don't remember, probably the last one, you can go back and read, if you would like.

On a more serious note, there's been a lot happening in the world. I'm not going to rehash it right now but just a simple nod at it and know that it has been addressed. I know there is place in the after for us all and that's good enough for me.

The pub has been quite a bit active lately. I must have been missing something for quite a few weeks as the attendance had been lacking. However, it's good to see a few new faces, hopefully these will stick around and learn the secret ways of the pub.

Honestly, there are no secrets.

So you all may know of my dislike for the Bistro and some of it's denizens. Well prince of the bistro who apparently enjoys the nightlife on this side of the Patapsaco decided to make a royal ass of himself, as usual.

I'm not one to launch bricks for no proper reason, but this guy is aiming to get himself done. First he goes off and yobs off after the sheriff as he happened to be walking the bar next-door. Later he tries to front up on the manager in black. History should tell you a little bit but I'm not even one to push my luck with the manager in black. He's a shady enough mid-western character to begin with and only, well nothing good comes out of Detroit.

Anyways, enough of dealing with stupidity.

Congrats to LOSC for winning something or the other. heehee

Congrats to ManYoo on winning the league... 19. And a proper nod to the ones who unfurled the banner in Anfield.

Congrats to ManShitty for being not so shitty and getting the Fuck All cup.

And a big cake to West Ham, sorry my friends. I understand there was a bit of a fracas at the end of season dinner. I don't see Ba staying there.

Well next week should see the final nails in the coffin for some. It will also be the return of the Crescendo!

Next grand plans... thinking of moving the blog, but still undecided.

We will see... we will see...

~LeChat

Barcelona Away (CL) ManYoo Away (FA)

I don't have much to say. Really nothing to say at all.

To be honest, I've given up on things to say. It's really indefensible.

Two competitions in one week. What is there to be said? Nothing at all.

My CD player has stopped working in my car. My laptop has a virus and won't let me restore. Japan got wiped out and there was not a large monster in sight!

Will something restore my faith?

Wait? What's this? JENS? You've got to be kidding.



I don't really care anymore.

~LeChat

Orient at Home (FA) and Sunderland at Home

My what a lackluster week. To be honest, I could care less about either tie. It's kind of funny how one can be a hero on a Wednesday and a complete muppet by the weekend.

Nicklas Bendtner, please stand up!

Fact of the matter is you may think you're the bees knees but your consistency is severely lacking. The big head and the big feet need to be in communication.

Ahh, I'm not here to slag off on poor Nicky alone. Honestly there's no reason, no concrete reason to drop points at this stage of the season. With the United scum falling prey to the team that once was Liverpool, the Arsenal would be 1 point, ONE BLOODY SODDING POINT off the title.

However, this is not the team to do things the easy way. Let's not revisit the should have, could have and would haves of these last couple of weeks. It's trying. A man could be dying slowly in a pool of quicksand and you have about 33% chance of the Arsenal throwing the rope within arms reach, whether or not the rope doesn't break is a different story.

I know there are some reading this saying, "What kind of fan are you, slagging off your own squad like this? Are you some kind of glory hunter? If they don't win, you just whine."

To those I say, when you've been doing this as long as I have, you would understand the intimate and almost salacious relationship you have with your club. How that club comes to define your very being to the point of perversion. How, if you come up to my face and say those words to me, that I might actually haul off and hit you with nary hesitance or judiciousness.

When you have paid your dues and have been allocated your time, in that case, you may question my loyalty as I would question yours. In short, that is not for me to decide nor care about your loyalties or lack thereof.

I'm just saying, I've walked the valley of death and am prepared to stride once more with my head held high, in spite of what mine enemies and detractors would throw down upon me.




Oh to... Oh to be... Oh to be a Gooner!

~LeChat

Stoke at Home (EPL), Birmingham Carling Cup Final

Midweek fixtures, well as usual, not much to say. Three points to the good and that's about it. I have to admit that I myself was not in form at all this week. This flu thing seems to be wiping out whole offices as we speak. It sort of reminds me of 28 Days Later or some other zombie apocalypse type story. Everyone is infected.

I end up with a 2 day work week and the Carling cup final to look forward to. I took it easy on Friday and spent most of the day in bed on Saturday. I was not going to let this flu hold me back from watching a cup final, so head it off at the pass, so to speak.

Sunday, woke up, not in the best of moods and feeling a bit wonky at best. I headed down to the pub, walked in and said hello to the ManShitty crew before ducking back out and over to the Gooner pre-game at the Inn.

Bakerman and ArseBob had set up a room to have a few drinks and get everyone loose for the cup final. It was nice. I only had a coffee as my body was still not used to what I would call normalcy.

We all start heading to the pub around 10 of for the kickoff. There were several strange punters that I'd never spied before, but that's what you can expect for a cup final; a bunch of johnny-comes as ACMilan would say.

**editor note**
There was just a loud explosion and the electricity went out at the end of the previous sentence. That was really odd. I'm thinking a transformer blew or we are now under attack by martians. The former more likely but the latter, with my luck is quite plausible.
**/editor note**

I was standing next to GrumpyGooner and mentioned to him that there was a strange vibe in the air, almost ominous. I don't know if he really heard me or if I was just talking to myself but something was not feeling right.

Like most games, there was an ebb and flow. They scored, we scored and then the clock starts ticking. The game is 90 minutes; the only thing certain in football. A miscalculation, a bobble and an easy tap in from a seasoned striker settled the cup and lack thereof for the Arsenal once again.

Surprised? No, not at all.

Shocked? Not really.

Disappointed? Of course, who wouldn't be, unless you were a Birmingham fan. It was a real shot to the heart.

I know one thing is for certain, at least in my opinion, if I wanted things to come easy, all the time then I would have choose something more certain. However, I did not.

Every failure makes every success that much sweeter. Two more cups and a league to go.

~LeChat

Barcelona at Home (CL) and Leyton Orient Away (FA)

Well a bunch more of the expected.

Earlier in the week, someone had asked me why I hadn't done a write up after the Barca game. Simple reason, I'm only doing the one a week, on the traditional football Monday. I certainly could have but why change?

In all honesty, while Barca are well on form for the last couple of seasons; they are not the be all and end all of the world of football. At the end of the day, they play a game that is determined within 90 minutes, with only one certainty.

The Ball is round.

In the next decade, or maybe in the next couple of years, there will be a new squad on the block that is just clicking and everything is falling down in all the right places.

For every rise, there must be a fall.

I read an article, somewhere that I can't remember, talking about the Dutch total football system and how Ajax employed it for several years cementing their name in the annals of club football history.

So, now while Ajax brings a weepy tear of good time memories to their supporters/fans/wannabes, they're just memories of a once great team. This will too be the fate of Barca and all great teams. Much like the Roman Empire, some nice sculptures and a legacy but little more than a bunch of white marble lying in the sun.

In short, there is no reason to be celebrating until the job is done. And by done, I mean there is still a second half of a series to be played in Camp Nou. The odds stand against the Arsenal but we will see.

Now for the Leyton Orient, another I couldn't really be bothered with. I knew the outcome before I laid my head on the pillow the night before. I'm not a pessimist but a shocking realist, true unto myself.

A game that's supposed to be won, isn't. Simple and true. I have nothing else to say about it but it gives another replay and a bunch of tired millionaires. As a good friend in high school told me once about a girl who would yell at her lovers, "If you're not going to do it right, then why bother?" Truer words have never been spoken. Mind you the girl mentioned above was a bit of a loose one in all honesty.

As many of you may know, this weekend was my birthday as well. If you couldn't make out, than you missed a good time or so I've been told.

Saturday evening I met up with Sheffield and surprised guest appearances by ArsenalBob, The Bakerman and SlainteLOSC. Let's say it was supposed to be a bit of a quiet drink or two before heading up to ChelskiGirl's surprise party.

Little did I know, ArsenalBob had other plans. I think in total it was about 40 odd shots bought and shared amongst a little group that varied in size throughout the early evening hours.

Sheffield, Vinnie, Gingerette and myself decided it was time to go, so we headed up towards the surprise party. Rumour has it that ArsenalBob colourized someone's car and left the Bakerman with a rather large bill.

The surprise for ChelskiGirl went off well. She was late, as usual, but then again it was a surprise so you can never expect those things to go as planned.

Sunday night there was the big party. There are several amongst the pub regulars who share birthdays within the same week, myself included. The birthday extravaganza keeps getting bigger and bigger.

This year, we made sure to grab the society room. Someone asked how many did I expect, but as usual, I had no idea. It's hard to tell 30 odd may respond but you may end up with a lot more or a lot less. One of those things, human nature.

We had some good numbers. I was feeling a bit under the weather, so was not my usual self. To be honest, I was feeling well out of sorts. It appears the flu monster has taken another victim.

I also received some rather sad news on the weekend as well. The man, who I called Santa Claus, a good friend of mine, will be sipping his pints with St. Peter and Gabriel. He lived life to his fullest and was one of the more inspirational people I have ever known.

May the gods bless him and may his soul have a wonderful journey.

~LeChat

Wolves at Home

Happy St. Valentine's day to you and yours or it, or whatever you decide to declare your romantic interests to. Whether it be an actual living breathing human being, a sheep or that nice soft sock/pillow, etc.. and so on.

This weekend we were met with the MancScum v. ManShitty derby. However, for myself, it was at a very inconvenient time in the morning. I decided it would best be spent getting myself ready for the proper match and not deal with the fair-weather rabble that tends to show up for these things.

Did I ever tell you how much I detest many MancScum so called fans? I'm not talking about the ones that I actually call friends, albeit in the loose vernacular term. I mean the ones who discovered United when xxx played for them or they won the double or the store down the street sold Beckham kits and he was/is still the best player ever.

You know the people I'm talking about. All clubs, at least on this side of the world have them; the glory hunter fan. There are a ton of these people, who don't know the history, only understand the geographical significance of this weekend's derby and only show up for the big games... when they're winning.

Now, I'll give you the respect if you just happened upon the sport at such a time and it is the reason you became interested, but don't feign interest when it's convenient. If I can't hold a conversation with you about the tactical significance of Coventry's midfield when they are playing Doncaster during a mid-table skirmish during a rainy boring nil nil on a Wednesday night, then we have nothing to go on about, do we?

Don't get me wrong, like I said, if you want to learn and spend time in the salt mines, like we all have, then much respect. However, you need to show up for more than the just the big games, when you are on top of the league.
/rant

The Arsenal match just happened to be on during the same time as the Liverpool match, so we were regulated to the side screen without sound. It didn't matter much to me as it was a much more comfortable match for the boys in red and white.

The Liverpool affair, I must say, was quite fun. At some point during the match, Shorts decided that Wigan needed some props, so to speak. He carefully blended a little ditty off of a Wu-Tang Clan chant, which started to bug a Scouser I'd never seen before. It was kind of funny but to his credit.

WIGAN ATHLETIC AIN'T NOTHING TO FUCK WITH!

He was all about it until he found out that it was the 'latics was just short for athletics and had nothing to do with milk, courtesy of the Lady of Manchester. We'll accept that as true.

This morning was filled with an unusual surprise. Ronaldo (the real one or the fat one, whichever you prefer) is retiring. I remember when he first stepped out for Brasil and was a complete phenom. I even bought his biography, something I never do for footballers but it's an interesting story.

Actually, if Anelka wrote one, I'd buy that too, because I'm sure that's an interesting story. Also, I still haven't seen the Zidane movie, a 21st century portrait. If anyone can get your hands on it, I'd be truly grateful.

Anyways, I knew he'd been hurt and not playing much, definitely not playing to his full 100%. I can admit I actually shed a small tear. The goofy smile, big head and funky hairdo will be missed. I don't see him staying in football, maybe in a back office, running some camps or scouting or something but not as manager.

So to Ronaldo Luis Nazario de Lima, BOA SORTE!
(that bloody well better be correct!)

~LeChat

Everton at Home and Newcastle Away

Well Tuesday was Tuesday. There isn't too much to say about it. It was a mid week game. The Arsenal played... won... 3 points to the good.

Now Saturday was a whole new ball of wax.

LilBlondieGooner sent me an early morning text. She was still jet-lagging from the wrong coast and was wondering when people were coming down. I let her know I'd be right around game time. I couldn't see myself getting there any earlier.

I arrived to the general milling around of the ManShitty by the door, followed by a few of the faithful. Gingerette and I grabbed a booth and invited LilBlondie to come over for a seat. She reminded us that it was MiniMo's birthday.

After a few, some Geordies started filing in. I have to admit I don't have a problem with the Geordie lot from the pub. Most of them are nice guys, at least from my experience with them. They know their football and are proud of their team. One can't complain about that.

However, somewhere along the line, there must be something that happened that a few others make comments about them. I usually just shake my head because I've never had any bad experiences with them. At least not with this lot.

Someone had mentioned they come off a little brusque and boisterous. I am going to chalk it up to people forgetting that they existed. I mean, they are Newcastle fans, what can one expect. It just goes back to my supporters are a reflection of their team and vice-versa. They're honest, I like that.

The first half was good. I can't complain one bit. I did see Shorts walking a small dog in the rain. It was an odd sight.

At halftime, there was cake to be had. The Bakerman, had done up a nice rich chocolate thing and we sang Happy Birthday to MiniMo. It was all quite nice.

The second half, well, how do I say this? I don't know. It happened. I think all my vulgarities for the week left my mouth within a span of 10 minutes.

Later that day, I had gone shopping with Gingerette. While she was in line waiting, I was standing around, checking scores on the phone and just trying not to be in the way. I was the typical guy waiting around the girly section of the store, while stuff was being purchased, not that I really mind or anything.

This lad comes up to me, we give each other the nod, it was obvious he was looking for something but what I didn't know. Somehow he spied enough of my kit, which was half hidden by my jacket.

"Eh? Ya Arsenal mate?" He had a thick London accent that caught me off guard.

"Yah..." I must have looked utterly confused

"Gutted, simply gutted."

"True. It was a different second."

He quickly chimed in, "Ya see United lost."

Nodding and smiling, "2-1 Wolves, just saw it on my phone."

He then asked for the lift, then correcting himself and saying elevator, to which the cashier pointed out. We nod and express good wishes to each other. Funny how you can randomly run into someone and have this random conversation about something completely relevant to your life.

I don't know, maybe I read too much into it. There is something about sport in general though that can make two random people, all of the sudden relate to some particular thing. It's hard pressed to find anything else like it, devoid of race, creed and religion.

In some circles, there are those that say sport is religion. Or you could have one of those shirts from the 90's that read along the lines X is life, the rest is just details.

The fact is, it's a leveling factor in many of our lives, at least for those reading this blog. I guess I'm saying that my life has been enriched by those I've come into contact with through football, the pub and sheer randomness.

For good and for bad, the world keeps getting smaller.

By the way, someone just hacked my yahoo account and spammed from it. Watch your passwords and change them often.

~LeChat

Ipswich Home (Carling) and Huddersfield Home (FA)

CUP CUP CUP

The Arsenal are still in some cups. It should be an exciting time, a real chance for some silverware after such a long drought and the continuous bridesmaid finishes for the last half decade.

I haven't and well couldn't be assed with going to the pub this week. To be honest, getting up for Huddersfield at 7:30 Eastern was not in the books. I should plan my Saturday evenings out a bit better.

Meanwhile (imagine funky comic book script)

The closing of the mid-season transfer has come and now gone, as it was today. There wasn't much in it for the Arsenal, no surprise there. However, it appears the Scousers may have got one over on Newcastle. I swear Newcastle must be giving a lesson on how to yo-yo between leagues at the moment. Not a good move, once again.

Seriously though, what do I know. I'm not the manager or the owner but from a layman's vantage point; It. No. Good.

Now let's get on with the proper stuff. This whole mid-season transfer market stuff really screws my head. Honestly, I think there should be something done about it. In my heart of hearts, would love to be done with the whole thing but I have a feeling that's not going to happen.

The month of February does give us a bit to look forward to though. There's the Barcelona Champions League tie and um my birthday. Yes, I know. Something good and something, well we will see the outcome of it.

This year the party will be moving back to the Pub, second floor, Society Room. We're going to do it on Sunday 20 Feb at 8 PM. (Monday is a holiday)

Remember it's not just me but also ChelskiGirl and the Toffee's birthday as well. Don't bring presents, just bring yourselves.

~LeChat

Leeds Away (FA) and Wigan at Home

Well FA is said and done. Well Leeds got done, something to be said in that. It's always a good day when Leeds gets done. I spent my fine afternoon at work, looking at the Guardian play by play concerning the doing of Leeds.

Funny part about it, the Guardian is not allowed in Elland Road. It has something to do with reporting a story about the shadowy ownership of Leeds a few years back. There was a call for transparency which was met with a "you're not allowed in here, again, ever." Real mature but it is Leeds, should you expect more.

So, the weekend comes with no real surprises. Somehow along the way I had picked up a cold from someone. I don't want to point any fingers but someone did shake my hand and explain to me how they were sick all week. To that person, thanks a mil brutha, now I got this bloody cold.

It was bound to happen one way or another. It's the sickness time of year.

There was a fair number of MancScum supporters out this weekend, which was nice to see. It wasn't even a big game or anything, even a newer face. It's always good when someone new comes in and just jumps right in, like they belong; none of this trying hard to impress drek or any sort of thing like that. Hop up on a couch/stool or what have you, give a friendly nod and on with the football. Too bad everyone can't be like that.

I was going to do a whole rant about the sexism thing. The female linesman and what the two numptys on Sky had said. Honestly, it's been beaten to death already. The problem is inherent in the system, not to paraphrase Monty Python, but it is.

There is no need for the degradation of anyone based on gender, race, sexual or religious preference. It should be about doing the job. Apparently, the young woman in question does her job better than most of the men out there. I would like to add a plus she's much better looking but that just adds to the sexism fire.

I myself can often give into lad culture as well. I'm not going to pretend to be holier than thou or anything like that. However, in my heart of hearts, the referee is still a bastard, the linesman/woman is blind and Chelsea is a bunch of pillow-biting tossers.

In all seriousness though, there is no room for what those announcers did. There is no room for anything like that.

Is it destroying football?
That I do not know because it's been there and is still an ugly mark upon it's face.

Is there an easy solution?
No, there is never an easy solution.

Well what should we do?
Start subtly reminding everyone that they are probably an asshole, just like everyone else and get on with it. It's unnecessary to continue with ideas like that in this century. Whether the person is man/woman/black/white/Muslim/Hindu or whatever they may be; It has no bearing on the scoreline, well, unless the linesman/woman is truly blind.

~LeChat

Ipswich Away (Carling) and West Ham Away

Another week goes by and two more games. I can't really say much about the mid-week, so I won't. Ipswich took the advantage and ran with it, while The Arsenal did what they do best, bottle it against a much less talented opponent.

This weekend, well was a slightly different story. I made my way down to the pub with Gingerette in tow. She hadn't been down for a game yet, so figured it would be as good a time as any to introduce her to a few of the faces.

After the usual welcome from Irish, we had a few words with the Chelski boys. Apparently, due to whatever scheduling reasons, the game was not being shown. Is it me or does it feel like they are getting done in just as their performance is starting to slip.

Part of me would like to say, good riddance to blue scum, but at the pub, I really do like their supporters. I can't speak for the ones that I don't know but as supporters go, top notch. Anyways, after a bit of chatting with those lot, and making my way through the lighter blue ManShitty scum, I found a nice table at the back to eat my breakfast in peace.

It was a bit of the usual back and forth. The Chelski lot had disappeared to where ever they had come from. The ManShitty crew just seemed to be getting bigger and bigger. That's when I realised it was the National College Coaches Convention or some other crap going on in the city.

Who would have thunk that a bunch of scum would be in the city under the auspice of being coaches? Well I guess you have to get them from somewhere. I mean life on the dole can be hard, or so I hear.

After the ManShitty game, we hung around for some proper football. ChelskiGirl wandered in with her normal state of bliss from just getting back from London and about to leave again. She's got to be adding pages to her passport cause that book is getting stamped more than bonehead at an anti-fa rally.

By the way, Bakerman needs to be thanked for bringing in some fine quality pastries. I really need to remind myself to give him much respect. I always think of it after the fact. This time I will not forget. He and Arsebob secured some seats at the bar for the Arsenal match. Which I can say, was a delight after some of the others that have been bandying themselves about as proper matches.

We had a good little crowd come in, one of the coaches asked if this was a usual amount of supporters. Which I replied, sometimes we get a few more but this is the core. And in fact, it was the core; Shorts even broke out the new Djourou song.

About half time, I tracked down the BigManager. I had to make the arrangements for the annual party, which lately has turned into the joint birthday of myself and ChelskiGirl. This year, however, we're going to include the Toffee. He let us know that him and I actually share the same day. On top of that, I think we are going to get a tasty cake made by the Bakerman. It should be a good time.

Tenative date, well the date that's been put in the book is for Sunday 20 February at 8PM in the Society Room/2nd Floor Pub. There is a holiday on the Monday, so no real excuses for you. Pencil it in now. Honestly, don't worry about presents, just showing up and celebrating with the three of us is a gift in itself. I should say four, because I think Usual Server might be jumping on this train too. Her birthday is somewhere in the mix as well. So a quadruple celebration it is.

Final note: Happy MLK, Jr. Day. Let's think about the racism that still tears through the professional leagues and terraces. We shouldn't think about it just on today but every day. I know this is some cliche tripe but it something that affects each and every one of us that pretends to have a righteous soul. 

From 2006, probably been shown 101 times but until the problem is fixed. It will be shown again. Mind you, it's a slanted American view, where ESPN pretends the problem doesn't exist here. It may be subtle but it does exist.



~LeChat

ManCity at Home (EPL) Leeds at Home (FA)

January and the games come fast and furious, however the blog comes slow and almost on-time. If you haven't noticed, it's easier for me to just combine the mid-weeks in with the weekend games. Keeping up is a test of my mental capacity right now and to be honest I just don't feel like it. This is a work of love and inspiration so it comes when it comes.

Now check these apples. The mid-week affair left little to be desired. I know there were plenty of arguments from all sides. I believe ACMilan even called me to give me his two lire about the game.

(musical interlude - Cloud 9 by Bob Marley followed with)

(Country Roads by Toots and The Maytals)

So where was I? Oh ManShitty came and played like their namesake, well shitty. Shut the door, parked the bus, acted Italian, however you want to say it. Mind you, no disrespect to the Italians but they do play a good defensive game... almost too good.

And that about sums it up. It was a whole lot of nothing. Nil-NIL

The weekend looked more promising, but I should never get my hopes up. I do follow the Arsenal and have been following them for 20 odd years too long to be deceived by what looks like a skip through the park.

Leeds has always been a team that gives issues. Way back when they were in the olde Division 1, they were a team that caused problems. *cue grainy film clip*

I wasn't feeling up for going to the pub and took in the game on the laptop from my very warm bed. I must say, it was a good idea. Just closed my eyes and listened to it like an old radio show.

Saturday evening, Station played for my friend Matt's benefit. We were the last band so most people had left before we started playing. Oh wells, MiniScouse had shown up and we were talking about the Liverpool United cup tie.

There was a side bet made that if Liverpool didn't lose, I'd get to punch her in the face. Something I was looking forward to in more of a non-serious way. She was being very pessimistic and that is only reserved for Gooners and Brummies. Wouldn't you just be depressed if you were a Brummie?

(musical interlude - Day On The Town by Madness)

By the way, let's talk about a proper surprise or well not really a surprise but Stevanage with a victory over Newcastle. I'm still pissed at Newcastle for getting rid of a decent bloke for whatever they put in his place. OH I know exactly what it is but really, was it worth it now? Talk about shit owners.

It reminds me of what was said about the African teams at WC2010 and well all previous World Cups. They have this manager, a good manager knows the team well, gets them through Africa Nations, gets them through Cup qualifiers and looks to give them a good run at the cup and maybe even the finals.

So what do they do when they get ready to go to the group stages. They replace him some Dutch twat that doesn't know a hippo from rhino and thinks that those drums sound really scary like in a movie with cannibals.

Seriously if the man had been there from the beginning, built the team, had dinner with the midfielders and their families, knows that the striker prefers Congolese rap music as opposed to Somali pirate songs, then I'd have no problem with it.

However, it never happens that way. Only a few managers are allowed to build, shape and mold a team. It's not surprising that teams look to have promise and fail, never to meet any kind of potential or consistency, even if that consistency is finishing mid-table year in and year out.

Whatever, fuck it.

~LeChat
(musical finish - Life's Lonely Road by Gregory Isaacs)

Birmingwho? at Home

LittleblondieGooner took some time out of her busy west coast schedule to remind me that I failed to keep her informed on the inner workings of my stream consciousness also known as this blog.

I kindly informed her that I would not fail again at providing her with the much needed entertainment that she needs, apparently Hollywood and Vine is just not enough for her.

HAPPY NEW YEAR Friends! Let the transfer window open!

Friday - New Year's Eve

It started at 2pm with myself and Sheffield at the pub. We planned on one or two, just to catch up, as we hadn't been able to hang out since the fall of the Roman empire. However, things do change. After a bit, Vinnie came down, need I say things got blurry after such.

We declared a toast to Italy, since it was New Year's there, mind you this was after a few earlier toasts. I believe MiniMo and LittleBlondieGooner had shown up by this time.

Sheffield, Vinnie and myself had taken a few hits of helium from the New Year's eve balloons and tried singing Fill Up My Senses. Another round of shots and I decided it was probably best to go stumbling up the street with Vinnie and GingerCousin who had come in at some point.

By the time we made it up to GingerCousin's place, I was handed some chicken from a Columbian, ate it, and promptly fell asleep on someone's bed. I remember Vinnie coming in and telling me it was New Year's and get my ass up for some sparkly but I wasn't having it. I was snuggled up and not about to move.

Saturday - New Year's Day

All was quiet on New Year's Day as I did my walk of shame through the North end of the point back to my car. I was half inclined to poke my head into the pub to check the MancScum game and say Hi to the sheriff but knew that was a bad idea.

I took in a quick nap and morning ritual back at the homestead and made it down for the second half of some other shit game. Surprised to see an actual Blackpool supporter sitting amongst Shitty faithful.

Some of the same faces from the night before had not gone home, like myself. That was an enjoyable scene. I felt like a ton of bricks, ended up taking a seat next to ArsenalNick on the couches, who at one point disappeared during the half and came back well done.

Shorts came in and had taken up the other seat beside me on the couches. He ordered a chicken sandwich that smelled like the best chicken sandwich ever. It was doing me no good, stole a fry and the night before threatened to come back and visit.

Just a word about the actual game. We were watching it this time. Like recovering from a bad hangover (in other words Wigan) The boys showed there mettle and was able to do over a very harsh Birmingham squad. Those fahkin cunts! Seriously, I'd never seen that much outrageous violence, except in the movies, you know the one where Rambo is like going ape shit on some stupid hick cops.

ArsenalNick kept repeating the quote, "They drew first blood Captain." I don't even know if that's the right quote but it's damn close enough and proved a point. The boys have grown up and now they are the men who play beautiful ball and not afraid to get stuck in as well.

In short, FUCK 'EM ALL LADS!

Build, instead of buy. Assemble and create instead of prefabricated and microwaved. I don't mean to laugh but have you seen the implosions happening with teams wearing blue? I don't see Chelski falling but so far, however maybe they will settle back into the place where they belong.

And now for the best present of the New Year's. HANDBAGS between Ade and, well just about everyone. However, he crossed the line today in my opinion; had a go at King Kolo. Seriously, going after Kolo Touré, in practice! Adebayor, need I say it again? You, my good sir, waste of money, time, space and talent... you fahkin cunt!

Seriously good bye get out of the league and play in Poland or better yet Russia. Hopefully that big head of yours can fit in the Kremlin.

Dear readers, I do apologise for my uncivil tongue. I just can't stand certain people and their certain self-entitled egos; at least you can laugh at Bendtner, the muppet.

~LeChat