Internationals/WC 2010 Qualifiers at Dublin

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

SATURDAY
Ireland - Les Bleus: Dublin.

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

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

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

2-1 and accepting nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Saturday Night

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

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

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

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

Drunk!Yay!

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

HAHA!

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

ALLEZ! ALLEZ!

~LeChat

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