Newcastle Away (Carling) and West Ham at Home

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

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

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

Onward ho towards the Premiership.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spooky, isn't it.

~LeChat

Internationals or How I plot my move to Faroe Islands!

YES YES it's another INTERNATIONAL WEEKEND!
Throw on your favorite country's colours and dance like you want to...

I took a rare and I mean rare Friday night out. I found myself in my normal spot, amongst the strangers, tourists and ne'er do wells at the bottom end of the Point. I had nothing else better to do and the weather was kind.

All in all uneventful, minus the fact that one of the ne'er do wells and a restaurant next door patron decide to come to a few shoves and a bunch of yelling. Apparently, calling someone's significant other a whore is grounds for an ass kicking. Now I don't make judgments on one's whoredom or lack of whoredom but it really isn't a nice thing to say on a beautiful Friday evening.

ChelskiGirl popped down for her usual Magners shortly after the excitement. BlackSpy joined up and we sat for a few before deciding to move to a different spot. I was still suffering the ill effects of last week's chest cold and the cuba libres weren't doing the job, so I dumped out before turning into a pumpkin.

SATURDAY or better known as my plot to move to Faroe Islands

MiniMourinho gives me a call in the morning to let me know he's heading out for the pub and to warn me about the marathon. We discuss the finer points of avoiding the hassles of getting to the pub and I make the decision to wait about half an hour longer before leaving. I wasn't in much of a hurry to see the Germany game and the England game was more of a "well if I make it down there in time" sort of thing.

You know, whoever was the genius to create a marathon in the middle of football season should be shot. No, really.

I make it down to the pub and am greeted by the trio of ChelskiGirl, MiniMourinho and Pretzels. They had been in there for a while watching the German Russian game. I took a seat down towards the other end with Shane who recounted his hour and half journey into the city because of the marathon. It's usually a 20 minute trip or thereabouts.

After the match, Pretzels and I decided we were hungry and decided to grab burgers next door. He had never had a burger from there or the Chowhound so what better time than now. We headed over and sat at Jonfromnextdoor's bar. It's always nice and laid back up there.

Pretzels and I had a good conversation about internationals, military school, people with security clearances, Afghanistan and crazy girls from central Europe. Jonfromnextdoor, of course, entertained with his usual comedy routine.

We headed back over to the pub for the Faroe Islands game. Well Pretzels had to meet some people for the Hungarian game and I was more interested in the clinical dispatching of my newly adopted island country.

I walked in and Jersey was there, whom I forgot moved back to Jersey, and theBlondeguy, whose name I always forget. Nice to see familiar faces for the Faroe Islands match. I sat along the back wall, while Pretzels and friends were in the first booth.

I was soon joined by a nice gentleman who greeted me with a handshake and cheery "Bon Jour". He took the seat next to me and we had a few good exchanges about the surgical slicing of the French attack on the hapless journeymen from the Faroe Islands. It was nice to sit with the FrenchUncle and enjoy the game.

Yes I know I should not gloat about beating the Faroe Islands but I seriously love the idea of that place. I don't know why. I do know that the only legal way to hunt Harbor Dolphins in the Faroe Islands is by shotgun. While I am not a big fan of hunting in general, you have to admit that's a really interesting, if not bizarre, way to hunt a water dwelling mammal.

ACMILAN decides to show up about halftime. He was making his way to the Ireland Italy match. So I wished him bad luck. They were drawn at the half and I was not so secretly wishing for the Irish to actually do something.

While I was in discussion with ACMilan, Pretzels crew consisting of M and TinyScouser were trying to get Irish to switch to the Hungarian game. I, of course, protested stating that the game is 90 minutes and the French have not won just yet.

I won and delicate dismantling of the Faroe Islands continued.

As the game is ending I get a text from ChelskiGirl about how her beloved Serbia just dispatched the Romanians in a much similar way. A few shouts and groans from the upstairs bar could be heard. Apparently the Italians kept their first spot in the group.

ACMilan comes down and confirms the truth. We both acknowledge the Irish fans as they are leaving. A few jokes pass back and forth and good laughs had by all.

TinyScouser decided to make her voice heard for about 5 minutes, apparently she didn't even see the game but insisted the Italians cheated. ACMilan didn't like this one bit. I think I missed half of what happened because of leaving in the middle of it all. I wanted to catch a nap before coming back out that night for the US game.

I got a few updates about it from ACMilan after I got back home. I couldn't tell if it got intense or not but I am guessing TinyScouser had a few drinks in her.

Saturday NIGHT

The pub was one of six places across the country hosting the actual game. I think we were suppose to have it in English but we had the Spanish feed. It didn't matter too much anyways, the English feed had lame commentators and it was really more exciting just to watch the game.

I, myself, am not a big fan of the US Team to begin with. I was really there to hang out with the locals and absorb the atmosphere. Plus what else is there to do on a Saturday night but enjoy some International football.

It was crowded in the Point. I drove around for about 30 minutes before biting the bullet and paying a fiver at the garage. ManCity was out in front of the pub, nice to see a familiar face, we greeted each other and chatted for a few. I walk in and get the star treatment by the ManagerInBlack. ManCity balked about it and I smiled and said I'm a VIP.

The pub itself was chock full when I arrived. I ended up with the round table in the back, soon to be joined by ChelskiDaddy. It was nice to see him out on Saturday night. DJM showed up with M and a couple other locals were around. However, there were plenty of punters I had never seen before.

TinyScouser had some ID issues and ManagerInBlack pulled me up to find out who she was and if she was a regular. I guess VIP status has some responsibilities.

VinnyReading comes in with IrishJim and they head upstairs. Something about a jacket and making sure IrishJim didn't get into any trouble. They had been drinking at IrishJim's bar since the end of the Ireland Italy game. All I know is there is like a ton of whiskey behind that bar, a dangerous place.

ChelskiGirl showed up some time after that and continued to ramble on about Serbs. Then the fact that I was surrounded by Chelski supporters. Which my response is how is that any different from any other Saturday.

Around the half ACMilan comes strolling in wearing a shirt and tie. I didn't ask what he had been up to but I am sure someone is currently in the harbor wearing cement shoes. (I tell a joke.)

ACMilan and I start discussing the finer points of the game and dissecting all the international teams. What makes them tick? We were both in agreement over the lack of creativity in the US side. They have the players but they play a very vertical game. I think they could contend with the likes of some of the top teams and even with a little luck bring themselves home a cup, but they need to be smarter and a whole hell of a lot more creative.

Sometime during the game, ManCity and friends started singing Who the Fahk are Man United. This did not sit well with M and she gave him the business apparently. I could not see the full action but it was pretty funny. I had never seen her without a smile, so that was interesting.

Overall the night went smoothly, no craziness but the overall good feeling you get from Internationals. A ton of people who you don't know, all united in the spirit of the beautiful game.

There is nothing else like it. Football.

~LeChat