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
Showing posts with label EPL. Show all posts
Showing posts with label EPL. Show all posts
02 November 2011
24 October 2011
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
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
17 October 2011
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
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
27 September 2011
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
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
14 September 2011
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
05 September 2011
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
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
22 August 2011
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.
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.
23 May 2011
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
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
16 May 2011
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
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
07 March 2011
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
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
28 February 2011
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
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
14 February 2011
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.
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
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
07 February 2011
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
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
24 January 2011
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
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
17 January 2011
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
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
10 January 2011
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.
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?
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)
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)
30 December 2010
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
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
14 December 2010
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?
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
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
06 December 2010
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
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
29 November 2010
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
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)