I've been keeping my head low on the whole thing. Yes, I've got your messages and texts and fb posts and e-mails. I just haven't cared to respond to anyone on this at all besides a nod and a smile.
When it first went down, was I surprised? NON!
Should I have been? NON!
Should anyone have been? NON!
Why in the world am I here then? Typing this thing that's been done to death like the off-sides call that wasn't because the ref didn't call it. Those things don't beat your team, not scoring long before the call even mattered are the things that beat your team.
Referees are human, however highly or lowly you think of them. They miss calls.
Managers are for the most part human with the same caveat.
Players who make millions off the backs of supporters.... are human and are prone to err. Whether through their inane personas, lack of purpose in big games or general overall stupidity, these things are the things that remind us that they are human.
Professional and World class football has a way of making us, as animalistic and barbaric as we can be at at times, forget that these people are in fact just like us in many ways. They have fears and regrets, moments of clarity and insanity, loves and hates. They bleed when cut, perspire when hot, and after a long night of drink and curry... their shit does stink and probably burns if it is the hot Thai curry that tastes so good.
All that I am saying is that when a squad has lost its faith in the leadership, things do happen. It is a pity that it happened on the big stage with the lights shining down and the curtain wide open during a public dress rehearsal but that's life, isn't it?
The fact that these things happen to teams all the time, usually in a more private matter. I am betting no one remembers the year Brasil struggled through the group stages and barely made it into the Eight... I remember.
What happened? Brasil had a big collapse and lost faith in the manager. The squad had a ton of infighting and as usual, politics were playing a major role, instead of the football. These things happen to every team and many times, not usually at the final tournament but it does happen.
There is no team that wears a mighty armor that can not be undone by the tiniest of thorns.
So where does this leave me? Who shall I be supporting now that Les Bleus are gone? I have no idea and I need to wait until the dust settles.
Je me souviens.
~LeChat
Showing posts with label US. Show all posts
Showing posts with label US. Show all posts
22 June 2010
13 June 2010
England - US WC2010
The day started off quite good enough. HalfArseDean gave me a call about 5:30 so that we could stake claim to the regulars section. After doing all the regular morning rituals, I found myself meeting up with him, ManCity himself and The Manager in Black. Apparently MIB was still working from the night before, so it was a bit of a surprise.
It was interesting to see a few US supporters straggling in at the early hour. Actually it was more than a few, quite a bit I must say. At this point in time, the pub was beginning to look like a normal Saturday. The bar was full, a few of the regulars were spread amongst the couches, a murmured anticipation for a match to be shown and A Certain Scouser, who said she would be there... was still not there. The Librarian even called her... no answer.... typical!
Right around kick off for the first game, we had added a few Greek fans and a nice bunch of Korea supporters. They were all keen on watching the game, which was a brilliant show for the South Korean lads. It was a good mood all about.
By the end of that game, many more US supporters had come through the door. A few more of the regulars had shown, thus establishing the corner under the big screens and the couches for the late comers. It was a victory in our minds at least. This way we'd all be together.
A comment was made to me about myself and the regulars were being a bit "snooty", after I had mentioned not being fond of particular supporters. I shrugged and said "it's not really that but the attitudes of some of the newer people, especially supporters of a certain national team, is a lot less to be desired."
I was then pressed a bit to give a more elaborate answer, which I avoided. Honestly, I just like watching football with those who I know understand the game, have serious passion for the game and for the most part, live the game.
So, do we as regulars have an Us vs. Them complex at times, in short, Yes. Football is a territorial sport to begin with. In it's simplest form, it's all about controlling your territory and pushing the enemy or opponent back deep into theirs, overcoming their defensive line and putting one through past the minder.
You could use that analogy for many sports but it actually fits rather perfectly for Football and the derivatives or cousins, depending with whom you are speaking, that being American Football and Rugby.
So, I wouldn't say the regulars are "snooty" because we are a rather welcoming group. I know there were a few sitting with us who were not regulars but may have showed up for a game over the season or just met one of their friends down there once or twice. I'm sure they would have a very different take on the territorial regulars. Basically it comes down to being respectful of the game, the pub and the people, not very hard but some people can't help but to be an ass.
By the middle of the Argie - Nigeria game, the pub was beginning to meet maximum capacity. I think the fire marshal even peeked his head in for a few minutes. Our corner actually waved to him and he nodded and laughed. It was nice to see Nigeria not doing half bad and their keeper was on spot. It would have been even more beautiful to have seen them with a bit more bite in the final third.
After the game, came the long wait for the matinee match. I believe all the English regulars had shown up by this time and a few who were not but they joined us up in the front. The songs began flowing, most of it was one way traffic. However, the extreme number of US supporters did bring their couple of chants to a deafening level. I will say that was quite brilliant.
At some point in time, SlainteLOSC dragged me outside to be interviewed for some documentary that was being done by the pub. I was totally unprepared and hate being on the wrong side of the camera. I can't even actually remember what I said, besides my name and that I supported Arsenal and France and that the pub was a great place to watch the games.
It's funny. I can ramble on and on about the game and the cup and all sorts of things but put a camera in front of my face, without any prompts and being by myself. It does become rather odd for me. I think he was trying to capture my soul.
I spent a few hours trying to settle in to a good spot in the middle of the crowd, so I could see the game and be able to speak to some of the crew. It was nice that some of my mates that I had been watching football with since 2000-2001(?) season were there. Some of the original 6, three had moved away and one had a couple of kids. GrumpyGooner and myself were the only two left that show up for games on the regular now. However, Jazz was able to put the tykes in England kits and leave them with mom and Derm had some work in the area.
I remember when we all really became close after watching a couple of seasons in Canton (the pub had not opened yet and was another bar). We had found ourselves watching the Euros in Si's basement. England-France and England were up for most of the game. The texture of the game turned in a matter of moments. Mind you this was the France of Zizou and Henry, which had the capability of scoring at any given moment. I won't relive the whole show but let's just say the originals all have a healthy respect for each other and thank god for that. France won 2-1 in extra time after being 1-nil down the whole game.
So it was nice to see the lads gathered together. However, like I have been saying without saying it, the game would be tainted by some of the supporters. First instance, which happened during the Nigeria game, was one of the more annoying fans, who had been there since 630 or so, decided to walk up to Girlfriend, who just happened to be the only obvious England supporter at the pub at the time.
Girlfriend was ready for something to happen as the guy seemed a bit aggressive for no reason at all. At this time, I had returned to the table and Bayern started removing his sunglasses and watch. The guy was blabbering on about something and Girlfriend nodded his head a few times, then the guy's posture changed and he wished him luck.
However, instead of leaving it at that, the guy goes into some weird Irish accent and said a few more things before walking away. We all look at each other and were completely dumbfounded. We chuckled as the tension for a possible aggro situation died down.
A second situation came about during the match. I'm sure there were some minor ones in the middle there but nothing as egregious as this one. I was standing near the front of one of the tables and one of the random US supporters was near me, he kept bumping into me, which wasn't a big deal at all, just a bit annoying, but it was crowded so benefit of the doubt.
At one point in time, this dude, who looked like a cheap copy of Johnny from the Karate Kid, turns around and is asking about people supporting England. He then goes on to say something to the effect of "There aren't any black players on the English team." DJM and myself were like "What did you say?" in unison, none the less. I am quite glad that DJM also heard the guy, so I didn't think I was going crazy.
Fake Johnny goes on with, "Well there's Ledley King but that's it."
I am looking at him like he's gone completely nuts, I think DJM might have said there were plenty of black guys on the English team and that Fake Johnny was crazy. Fake Johnny, however, insisted on continuing and turns to ask me "Who else?"
I point up to the screen and told him, "You are blind, just look." And I kid you not, there were three black English players on the screen at the time, as if on cue. I shake my head at him and start naming them but the guy would not let the conversation go.
He started telling me something about his adopted brother who was black. I'm just looking at him, trying not to hit him and shaking my head. I let him know, under no uncertain terms that I basically did not care and to drop the conversation and watch the game. I may have said it to him about 3 or 4 times but he was testing my patience.
He asked me if I knew someone that played in Germany. I told him I didn't because I don't watch German football and could care less. Still this dude was trying to have a conversation, in which I just ended it by telling him to "fuck off and watch the game," then I removed myself as it and myself was about to go off.
I squeezed pass the Evertonian and put myself in the corner with the Originals, Sheffield and T-bone. They immediately caught wind of what was going on from the look of my face and my balled up fist. I explained the situation and one or two stated that if he keeps it up, we'd have him a bit later but just enjoy the match for now.
The most brilliant moment came when Heskey slid into Howard and giving him a bit of cleat to the chest. One of the originals started in with, "HESKEY IS A BLACK MAN" chant, to which the whole English corner joined in, as we all glared at the back of Fake Johnny's head.
I noticed shortly after Fake Johnny was outside speaking with DJM, not sure what was being said but I'm hoping he understands that just because you have an adopted black brother who plays some football, does not preclude you from being the typical idiot that you are.
I hate to say this is what I usually run into with US fans. They automatically look at me and assume I'm a US fan, like them. My only guess is because I have dark skin and speak English at least this one notion that my mother keened me into, wise woman that she is. I ran into a couple more situations, not as grand as the one with Fake Johnny, but very similar.
Some dude, and yes I'm calling all the ones that bothered me dude as it's so appropriate, stops me on my way back from the toilets. He said something about who I was supporting and then something about communists. Once again, where do these things come from? I must have gave him a strange look and told him I was Canadien and not to bother me which threw him off as he didn't know what else to say except "Fuck you." When I looked back at him he threw up his hands and said he was kidding.
Honestly, come on now, this is the way the rest of the world views the US Soccer nation, Sam's Army or whatever name they are going by at this time. It was a very poor showing. I remember another US fan grabbing me and talking to me for a brief few moments. A very nice guy, yes there were a few, actually he reminded me of ArsenalBob. I'm guessing he figured I wasn't there for the US and he asked me why I looked so angry. I told him that some of his other US supporters were in short, "a bunch of dicks." He reassured me that not all of them were like that, I nodded and we shook hands wishing each other luck and good times.
All in all, despite the minor headache of dealing with the general rabble of US supporters displaying their typical selves, it was a good time. Watching football with some of the Originals and many of the regulars. It's nice that we don't have to wait the 2 1/2 months to see some good games. Let's hope the rest of the days are equally fun, with a lot less stupidity.
~LeChat
It was interesting to see a few US supporters straggling in at the early hour. Actually it was more than a few, quite a bit I must say. At this point in time, the pub was beginning to look like a normal Saturday. The bar was full, a few of the regulars were spread amongst the couches, a murmured anticipation for a match to be shown and A Certain Scouser, who said she would be there... was still not there. The Librarian even called her... no answer.... typical!
Right around kick off for the first game, we had added a few Greek fans and a nice bunch of Korea supporters. They were all keen on watching the game, which was a brilliant show for the South Korean lads. It was a good mood all about.
By the end of that game, many more US supporters had come through the door. A few more of the regulars had shown, thus establishing the corner under the big screens and the couches for the late comers. It was a victory in our minds at least. This way we'd all be together.
A comment was made to me about myself and the regulars were being a bit "snooty", after I had mentioned not being fond of particular supporters. I shrugged and said "it's not really that but the attitudes of some of the newer people, especially supporters of a certain national team, is a lot less to be desired."
I was then pressed a bit to give a more elaborate answer, which I avoided. Honestly, I just like watching football with those who I know understand the game, have serious passion for the game and for the most part, live the game.
So, do we as regulars have an Us vs. Them complex at times, in short, Yes. Football is a territorial sport to begin with. In it's simplest form, it's all about controlling your territory and pushing the enemy or opponent back deep into theirs, overcoming their defensive line and putting one through past the minder.
You could use that analogy for many sports but it actually fits rather perfectly for Football and the derivatives or cousins, depending with whom you are speaking, that being American Football and Rugby.
So, I wouldn't say the regulars are "snooty" because we are a rather welcoming group. I know there were a few sitting with us who were not regulars but may have showed up for a game over the season or just met one of their friends down there once or twice. I'm sure they would have a very different take on the territorial regulars. Basically it comes down to being respectful of the game, the pub and the people, not very hard but some people can't help but to be an ass.
By the middle of the Argie - Nigeria game, the pub was beginning to meet maximum capacity. I think the fire marshal even peeked his head in for a few minutes. Our corner actually waved to him and he nodded and laughed. It was nice to see Nigeria not doing half bad and their keeper was on spot. It would have been even more beautiful to have seen them with a bit more bite in the final third.
After the game, came the long wait for the matinee match. I believe all the English regulars had shown up by this time and a few who were not but they joined us up in the front. The songs began flowing, most of it was one way traffic. However, the extreme number of US supporters did bring their couple of chants to a deafening level. I will say that was quite brilliant.
At some point in time, SlainteLOSC dragged me outside to be interviewed for some documentary that was being done by the pub. I was totally unprepared and hate being on the wrong side of the camera. I can't even actually remember what I said, besides my name and that I supported Arsenal and France and that the pub was a great place to watch the games.
It's funny. I can ramble on and on about the game and the cup and all sorts of things but put a camera in front of my face, without any prompts and being by myself. It does become rather odd for me. I think he was trying to capture my soul.
I spent a few hours trying to settle in to a good spot in the middle of the crowd, so I could see the game and be able to speak to some of the crew. It was nice that some of my mates that I had been watching football with since 2000-2001(?) season were there. Some of the original 6, three had moved away and one had a couple of kids. GrumpyGooner and myself were the only two left that show up for games on the regular now. However, Jazz was able to put the tykes in England kits and leave them with mom and Derm had some work in the area.
I remember when we all really became close after watching a couple of seasons in Canton (the pub had not opened yet and was another bar). We had found ourselves watching the Euros in Si's basement. England-France and England were up for most of the game. The texture of the game turned in a matter of moments. Mind you this was the France of Zizou and Henry, which had the capability of scoring at any given moment. I won't relive the whole show but let's just say the originals all have a healthy respect for each other and thank god for that. France won 2-1 in extra time after being 1-nil down the whole game.
So it was nice to see the lads gathered together. However, like I have been saying without saying it, the game would be tainted by some of the supporters. First instance, which happened during the Nigeria game, was one of the more annoying fans, who had been there since 630 or so, decided to walk up to Girlfriend, who just happened to be the only obvious England supporter at the pub at the time.
Girlfriend was ready for something to happen as the guy seemed a bit aggressive for no reason at all. At this time, I had returned to the table and Bayern started removing his sunglasses and watch. The guy was blabbering on about something and Girlfriend nodded his head a few times, then the guy's posture changed and he wished him luck.
However, instead of leaving it at that, the guy goes into some weird Irish accent and said a few more things before walking away. We all look at each other and were completely dumbfounded. We chuckled as the tension for a possible aggro situation died down.
A second situation came about during the match. I'm sure there were some minor ones in the middle there but nothing as egregious as this one. I was standing near the front of one of the tables and one of the random US supporters was near me, he kept bumping into me, which wasn't a big deal at all, just a bit annoying, but it was crowded so benefit of the doubt.
At one point in time, this dude, who looked like a cheap copy of Johnny from the Karate Kid, turns around and is asking about people supporting England. He then goes on to say something to the effect of "There aren't any black players on the English team." DJM and myself were like "What did you say?" in unison, none the less. I am quite glad that DJM also heard the guy, so I didn't think I was going crazy.
Fake Johnny goes on with, "Well there's Ledley King but that's it."
I am looking at him like he's gone completely nuts, I think DJM might have said there were plenty of black guys on the English team and that Fake Johnny was crazy. Fake Johnny, however, insisted on continuing and turns to ask me "Who else?"
I point up to the screen and told him, "You are blind, just look." And I kid you not, there were three black English players on the screen at the time, as if on cue. I shake my head at him and start naming them but the guy would not let the conversation go.
He started telling me something about his adopted brother who was black. I'm just looking at him, trying not to hit him and shaking my head. I let him know, under no uncertain terms that I basically did not care and to drop the conversation and watch the game. I may have said it to him about 3 or 4 times but he was testing my patience.
He asked me if I knew someone that played in Germany. I told him I didn't because I don't watch German football and could care less. Still this dude was trying to have a conversation, in which I just ended it by telling him to "fuck off and watch the game," then I removed myself as it and myself was about to go off.
I squeezed pass the Evertonian and put myself in the corner with the Originals, Sheffield and T-bone. They immediately caught wind of what was going on from the look of my face and my balled up fist. I explained the situation and one or two stated that if he keeps it up, we'd have him a bit later but just enjoy the match for now.
The most brilliant moment came when Heskey slid into Howard and giving him a bit of cleat to the chest. One of the originals started in with, "HESKEY IS A BLACK MAN" chant, to which the whole English corner joined in, as we all glared at the back of Fake Johnny's head.
I noticed shortly after Fake Johnny was outside speaking with DJM, not sure what was being said but I'm hoping he understands that just because you have an adopted black brother who plays some football, does not preclude you from being the typical idiot that you are.
I hate to say this is what I usually run into with US fans. They automatically look at me and assume I'm a US fan, like them. My only guess is because I have dark skin and speak English at least this one notion that my mother keened me into, wise woman that she is. I ran into a couple more situations, not as grand as the one with Fake Johnny, but very similar.
Some dude, and yes I'm calling all the ones that bothered me dude as it's so appropriate, stops me on my way back from the toilets. He said something about who I was supporting and then something about communists. Once again, where do these things come from? I must have gave him a strange look and told him I was Canadien and not to bother me which threw him off as he didn't know what else to say except "Fuck you." When I looked back at him he threw up his hands and said he was kidding.
Honestly, come on now, this is the way the rest of the world views the US Soccer nation, Sam's Army or whatever name they are going by at this time. It was a very poor showing. I remember another US fan grabbing me and talking to me for a brief few moments. A very nice guy, yes there were a few, actually he reminded me of ArsenalBob. I'm guessing he figured I wasn't there for the US and he asked me why I looked so angry. I told him that some of his other US supporters were in short, "a bunch of dicks." He reassured me that not all of them were like that, I nodded and we shook hands wishing each other luck and good times.
All in all, despite the minor headache of dealing with the general rabble of US supporters displaying their typical selves, it was a good time. Watching football with some of the Originals and many of the regulars. It's nice that we don't have to wait the 2 1/2 months to see some good games. Let's hope the rest of the days are equally fun, with a lot less stupidity.
~LeChat
01 March 2010
Stoke Away
Every Monday I seem to forget what happened on Saturday. This Monday being no exception. I won't tell you my secret on how I figure things out but somehow I do.
Saturday
The morning started out well enough. Earlier the previous evening, I believe, ManCity himself sent me a message concerning my allegiances for the days early game. I did not declare one but did let him know that the ball is round and he shouldn't worry too much of the result.
So Chelsea City it was. All nice and lined up for a proper little show. I will admit ChelskiBoys v. ManCity himself was going to make an entertaining breakfast treat.
I took a seat at one end of the bar, just to get a good view. To be honest, all I can remember is several chants about random things. ChelskiGirl looking particularly angry and about to glass ManCity himself. I believe MiniMourhino made a good day out of it either way. He had started the day out quite a bit bouncy and was well on his way shortly after.
Myself, well lately I have found my way into a more frilly drink, or so I've been told. Something happened to me after getting sick when it had snowed. I have not been able to drink more than one or two beers, so I've found solace in Cuba Libres. When I know it's going to be a specially long day, as Saturday was, sometimes... yes sometimes I do have a Malibu and Coke. However, some times has turned into quite often.
I think I was drinking Mount Gay and Coke, which by the way is a horrible rum to order. I almost whisper it under my breath, but when you have friends like Irish, everyone is going to know what you order.
Ah WHAT?.... Mount GAY!..... Do you want an umbrella with that?
Cheers mate, how's the world cup going for ya? OH, yah, that's right France won and we did not cheat. The ref did not blow the whistle. I do not control his whistle.
Alright, we did have a motley mob assembled for the proper match. A Certain Scouser and Pimms had shown up. I believe the Librarian, HalfArseDean, the Sheriff and Arse St. Nick rounded out the table. I may be a little foggy on this but somehow we got the Deputy to leave her beauty rest and join us as well. I think she was promised lunch and ended up with cottage chips.
All I can say is that a political conversation was started. I was told I was preaching to the choir. A Certain Scouser said that she wanted to be the Angry Black Man and somehow I became the Suburban White Chick. There was a half ton of laughter for a few hours on that one.
In character, I offered to make out the Angry Black Man but I couldn't date because my parents would kill me. Then I asked if Angry Black Man could get me a drink. To which the retort was something along the lines of "No Bitch! Get ME a drink!"
Yes, that's right, we went there several times. However, all our revelry was stopped short by a freight train of a tackle by the hand of Mr. Shawcross. I am not going to go into the whole STICK A BOOT IN ON ARSENAL rant. That was saved for Sunday but it was a horror show tackle.
Saturday Night
Clash Tribute at the Sidebar. I will say one thing. What a great show by my little band. It shaped up to be a great day. LilBlondieGooner and NightCaller showed up and had a good time, from what I understand. OH by the way, NightCaller needs a new nickname, as in he has reformed his ways but I need to think of one. Personally, I love his nickname but I did promise to give it a new look.
Anyways, funny thing happened to me at the show. I was sitting in a corner after getting off stage, talking to LilBlondieGooner, NightCaller and friends. This young girl comes up to us and starts to ask someone, thinking it was ScouseDrummer, some questions.
I noticed they were actually about me but I was in post-stage haze. She then started asking about me playing in some band I had never heard of and I guess tried to have a conversation with me. I guess I just wasn't grabbing a clue. After she leaves, LilBlondieGooner pushes me and tells me I have a groupie and should go after her.
I just shrug and say to her, Well she needs to try harder.
I thought it was funny. That's all that matters. Kind of like my other quote of the day.
I'm golden in the box but can't always finish.
I really just need to make a book of quotes. There is always the classic.
My god is a vengeful god and I'm warrior of god. I will chop your fucking head off!
Despite my lack of perception, this girl did try hard. There were some great bands and I did a lot of dancing, fueled by Captain Morgan Spiced Rum. Every time I turned around, she was beside me. ScouseDrummer even pushed me into her at one point in time. I was still on my she needs to try harder soapbox.
I will admit, it was a cute little gesture from a cute little girl. It didn't get creepy or anything and maybe I will be nicer the next time. Otherwise, my weekends are for being a complete cunt to all but my closest. Hell, I can even a bit of a twat to them as well but it's born out of pure love.
Sunday
I could be found, at the same approximate table, with the same approximate people, TWENTY FOUR FUCKING HOURS later. I have to admit, another good time watching the Scousers play. ScouseDrummer, his dad and sis showed up and joined the rowdy bunch on the couches.
MancScum were told to fuck off upstairs for the Milk Cup. I did go up and give some abuse but man it was way too depressing up there. I swear, the Scousers were lively, the game was lively and the atmosphere was a bit more than fun.
Mancs... well it was mighty grim upstairs. Their game was worst than watching paint dry on a humid mid-Atlantic day. The Villa fans were smart and stayed downstairs in the Arsenal section watching the game.
Notes of interest: I had an interesting conversation with one of the bistro boys who was there with his woman. We were just comparing the two places but understood where each other were coming from. I reiterated the story about running into the BigBistroBoy during the Canada-Russia (olympic hockey) match and how he re-introduced himself. I had shook his hand and told him I knew exactly who he was. I don't know if it came off the exact way that it had in my mind but it does make me wonder if you supposedly dislike a place so much, why do you keep showing your face in it?
I don't go and shit on the counter of your Bistro but you say all kinds of shit out of your mouth about how bad people are treated in my pub. If you don't like it, don't come here. Plain and fucking simple. Now I am not trying to start an Us v. Them type of scenario but as I explained to the bistro boys, there is nothing for me at that place. My mates who support other sides, some of whom I've been watching football with for like 7 or 8 years, plus or minus, wouldn't be welcomed there and couldn't watch FuckOff United v. SheepShagger FC at 7 AM for the Godknowswhat Cup.
That's my piece on it. My pub is a football pub, the long and short of it. As a football supporter, I will support my pub until it stops supporting me. At that time, maybe I will look for a new ground. There is still a thing called loyalty, especially when no one else in this fucking city would keep football on the television at any hour of the fucking day from 7AM to 2AM.
Prime example, the pub is showing Hockey in the evenings now. Sunday, OLYMPIC GOLD, CANADA v. USA (I do fly the Quebec flag). ACMilan comes in to watch his game. Do you know what happened? ACMilan got his game on a corner television! ONE lonely fucking ACMilan in a pub filled to the brim with Olympic Hockey fans.
Respect. Football.
oh and the puma Hard chorus....
~LeChat
OH subnote... before I forget.
Crystal Palace supporters group the 35ers are getting a good deal on season tickets. These are good games to go to and something fun to do, especially after WC2010 is done. The 35ers put other supporters to shame. In short, Let me know if you want the Crystal Palace US tickets, plus a free Crystal Palace scarf and a chance to win a trip to LONDON to see Palace at home.
Saturday
The morning started out well enough. Earlier the previous evening, I believe, ManCity himself sent me a message concerning my allegiances for the days early game. I did not declare one but did let him know that the ball is round and he shouldn't worry too much of the result.
So Chelsea City it was. All nice and lined up for a proper little show. I will admit ChelskiBoys v. ManCity himself was going to make an entertaining breakfast treat.
I took a seat at one end of the bar, just to get a good view. To be honest, all I can remember is several chants about random things. ChelskiGirl looking particularly angry and about to glass ManCity himself. I believe MiniMourhino made a good day out of it either way. He had started the day out quite a bit bouncy and was well on his way shortly after.
Myself, well lately I have found my way into a more frilly drink, or so I've been told. Something happened to me after getting sick when it had snowed. I have not been able to drink more than one or two beers, so I've found solace in Cuba Libres. When I know it's going to be a specially long day, as Saturday was, sometimes... yes sometimes I do have a Malibu and Coke. However, some times has turned into quite often.
I think I was drinking Mount Gay and Coke, which by the way is a horrible rum to order. I almost whisper it under my breath, but when you have friends like Irish, everyone is going to know what you order.
Ah WHAT?.... Mount GAY!..... Do you want an umbrella with that?
Cheers mate, how's the world cup going for ya? OH, yah, that's right France won and we did not cheat. The ref did not blow the whistle. I do not control his whistle.
Alright, we did have a motley mob assembled for the proper match. A Certain Scouser and Pimms had shown up. I believe the Librarian, HalfArseDean, the Sheriff and Arse St. Nick rounded out the table. I may be a little foggy on this but somehow we got the Deputy to leave her beauty rest and join us as well. I think she was promised lunch and ended up with cottage chips.
All I can say is that a political conversation was started. I was told I was preaching to the choir. A Certain Scouser said that she wanted to be the Angry Black Man and somehow I became the Suburban White Chick. There was a half ton of laughter for a few hours on that one.
In character, I offered to make out the Angry Black Man but I couldn't date because my parents would kill me. Then I asked if Angry Black Man could get me a drink. To which the retort was something along the lines of "No Bitch! Get ME a drink!"
Yes, that's right, we went there several times. However, all our revelry was stopped short by a freight train of a tackle by the hand of Mr. Shawcross. I am not going to go into the whole STICK A BOOT IN ON ARSENAL rant. That was saved for Sunday but it was a horror show tackle.
Saturday Night
Clash Tribute at the Sidebar. I will say one thing. What a great show by my little band. It shaped up to be a great day. LilBlondieGooner and NightCaller showed up and had a good time, from what I understand. OH by the way, NightCaller needs a new nickname, as in he has reformed his ways but I need to think of one. Personally, I love his nickname but I did promise to give it a new look.
Anyways, funny thing happened to me at the show. I was sitting in a corner after getting off stage, talking to LilBlondieGooner, NightCaller and friends. This young girl comes up to us and starts to ask someone, thinking it was ScouseDrummer, some questions.
I noticed they were actually about me but I was in post-stage haze. She then started asking about me playing in some band I had never heard of and I guess tried to have a conversation with me. I guess I just wasn't grabbing a clue. After she leaves, LilBlondieGooner pushes me and tells me I have a groupie and should go after her.
I just shrug and say to her, Well she needs to try harder.
I thought it was funny. That's all that matters. Kind of like my other quote of the day.
I'm golden in the box but can't always finish.
I really just need to make a book of quotes. There is always the classic.
My god is a vengeful god and I'm warrior of god. I will chop your fucking head off!
Despite my lack of perception, this girl did try hard. There were some great bands and I did a lot of dancing, fueled by Captain Morgan Spiced Rum. Every time I turned around, she was beside me. ScouseDrummer even pushed me into her at one point in time. I was still on my she needs to try harder soapbox.
I will admit, it was a cute little gesture from a cute little girl. It didn't get creepy or anything and maybe I will be nicer the next time. Otherwise, my weekends are for being a complete cunt to all but my closest. Hell, I can even a bit of a twat to them as well but it's born out of pure love.
Sunday
I could be found, at the same approximate table, with the same approximate people, TWENTY FOUR FUCKING HOURS later. I have to admit, another good time watching the Scousers play. ScouseDrummer, his dad and sis showed up and joined the rowdy bunch on the couches.
MancScum were told to fuck off upstairs for the Milk Cup. I did go up and give some abuse but man it was way too depressing up there. I swear, the Scousers were lively, the game was lively and the atmosphere was a bit more than fun.
Mancs... well it was mighty grim upstairs. Their game was worst than watching paint dry on a humid mid-Atlantic day. The Villa fans were smart and stayed downstairs in the Arsenal section watching the game.
Notes of interest: I had an interesting conversation with one of the bistro boys who was there with his woman. We were just comparing the two places but understood where each other were coming from. I reiterated the story about running into the BigBistroBoy during the Canada-Russia (olympic hockey) match and how he re-introduced himself. I had shook his hand and told him I knew exactly who he was. I don't know if it came off the exact way that it had in my mind but it does make me wonder if you supposedly dislike a place so much, why do you keep showing your face in it?
I don't go and shit on the counter of your Bistro but you say all kinds of shit out of your mouth about how bad people are treated in my pub. If you don't like it, don't come here. Plain and fucking simple. Now I am not trying to start an Us v. Them type of scenario but as I explained to the bistro boys, there is nothing for me at that place. My mates who support other sides, some of whom I've been watching football with for like 7 or 8 years, plus or minus, wouldn't be welcomed there and couldn't watch FuckOff United v. SheepShagger FC at 7 AM for the Godknowswhat Cup.
That's my piece on it. My pub is a football pub, the long and short of it. As a football supporter, I will support my pub until it stops supporting me. At that time, maybe I will look for a new ground. There is still a thing called loyalty, especially when no one else in this fucking city would keep football on the television at any hour of the fucking day from 7AM to 2AM.
Prime example, the pub is showing Hockey in the evenings now. Sunday, OLYMPIC GOLD, CANADA v. USA (I do fly the Quebec flag). ACMilan comes in to watch his game. Do you know what happened? ACMilan got his game on a corner television! ONE lonely fucking ACMilan in a pub filled to the brim with Olympic Hockey fans.
Respect. Football.
oh and the puma Hard chorus....
~LeChat
OH subnote... before I forget.
Crystal Palace supporters group the 35ers are getting a good deal on season tickets. These are good games to go to and something fun to do, especially after WC2010 is done. The 35ers put other supporters to shame. In short, Let me know if you want the Crystal Palace US tickets, plus a free Crystal Palace scarf and a chance to win a trip to LONDON to see Palace at home.
16 November 2009
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.)
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
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
12 October 2009
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
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
27 July 2009
LONG Football WEEKEND
Well Friday started off well enough. My cousin and I headed down to the pub for some pre-game lunch. Then a small amount of the regular crew showed up. It was a Friday, so someone had to work I suppose, plus a fraction of the regulars were somewhere on the west-side near the stadium.
I never did figure out exactly where because I wasn't giving up the money for the VIP passes. Anyways, we took up a corner in the society room next to the buffet. The author of Beckham Experiment was there, very nice guy. He had recently moved into or back into the area and was doing some signings. I didn't talk to him about the book because the last thing on my mind was Mr. Beckham and his experiment.
I have to remind you I was a few pints into the world at this point in time. Someone in our corner grabbed the poor DC United representative and harassed her for about 5 minutes. She kept insisting she wasn't anyone important but I think the boys didn't mind that one bit. She eventually found her way to where she was suppose to set up, right next to us.
About halfway through the afternoon, some Arsenal boys showed up and I joined them for a couple of pints and general harassment of the Chelsea crew that was sitting around my table.
A news crew and camera showed up as well. There is a 10 second clip of me chanting, probably something totally inappropriate. Afterwords, we hiked across the harbor to meet up with the Chelsea boys and girls across from the stadium. As soon as we get there, they decide to go to the VIP tent. I wasn't feeling it, so hung out with some old Gooner friends and a couple of West Ham supporters. Two of the Chelsea crew stuck around, as they didn't feel very VIP-ish either.
The crowd outside the stadium was going well, lots of chanting, lots of beers and just general good feeling. I think we may have jumped into a picture with some Brasilians and had a good laugh.
Now nevermind we had seats way up top, my cousin and I, but it was a great view. There were a few faces from the pub with us and a couple of crazy Greeks. I saw one of the local skins and we both began singing one of the local chants as he made his way to his seat.
Chelsea-Milan, quality football in Baltimore. Nice. Reeaaaal nice. Halftime a little squabble almost kicked off between my skinhead friend and some tourist yahoo in blue. I, of course tapped my cousin and we made sure the gentleman knew he was in Baltimore. It settled really quick. I go back to my seat and I notice a big contingent of Tattoo museum people right across the aisle. I have a little talk with Bill and then off to the pisser.
Second half was gentle. We decided it would be best to run out at 83 because Chelsea was already up and Milan looked tired. I didn't really care about the scoreline anyways. I tried to get a drink back at the pub but I was so tired that I just hopped into the VW and went home.
The best thing was it was a decent showing and a good weekend overall. Saturday was a little more drinking and carousing with friends from out of town. I crashed out on a couch and headed home the next morning.
Sunday, nice and refreshed, headed to the pub and to watch a solid trouncing of the United States v. Mexico. Unbelievable. I'm not a big US fan but that was tragic to say the least. Overall it was a quiet Sunday compared to the Friday/Saturday revelry.
I should probably plan on doing these more or less as things happen. My mind is slowly fading and I figured a Monday wrap up would be nice but my mind is fading.
See!
I never did figure out exactly where because I wasn't giving up the money for the VIP passes. Anyways, we took up a corner in the society room next to the buffet. The author of Beckham Experiment was there, very nice guy. He had recently moved into or back into the area and was doing some signings. I didn't talk to him about the book because the last thing on my mind was Mr. Beckham and his experiment.
I have to remind you I was a few pints into the world at this point in time. Someone in our corner grabbed the poor DC United representative and harassed her for about 5 minutes. She kept insisting she wasn't anyone important but I think the boys didn't mind that one bit. She eventually found her way to where she was suppose to set up, right next to us.
About halfway through the afternoon, some Arsenal boys showed up and I joined them for a couple of pints and general harassment of the Chelsea crew that was sitting around my table.
A news crew and camera showed up as well. There is a 10 second clip of me chanting, probably something totally inappropriate. Afterwords, we hiked across the harbor to meet up with the Chelsea boys and girls across from the stadium. As soon as we get there, they decide to go to the VIP tent. I wasn't feeling it, so hung out with some old Gooner friends and a couple of West Ham supporters. Two of the Chelsea crew stuck around, as they didn't feel very VIP-ish either.
The crowd outside the stadium was going well, lots of chanting, lots of beers and just general good feeling. I think we may have jumped into a picture with some Brasilians and had a good laugh.
Now nevermind we had seats way up top, my cousin and I, but it was a great view. There were a few faces from the pub with us and a couple of crazy Greeks. I saw one of the local skins and we both began singing one of the local chants as he made his way to his seat.
Chelsea-Milan, quality football in Baltimore. Nice. Reeaaaal nice. Halftime a little squabble almost kicked off between my skinhead friend and some tourist yahoo in blue. I, of course tapped my cousin and we made sure the gentleman knew he was in Baltimore. It settled really quick. I go back to my seat and I notice a big contingent of Tattoo museum people right across the aisle. I have a little talk with Bill and then off to the pisser.
Second half was gentle. We decided it would be best to run out at 83 because Chelsea was already up and Milan looked tired. I didn't really care about the scoreline anyways. I tried to get a drink back at the pub but I was so tired that I just hopped into the VW and went home.
The best thing was it was a decent showing and a good weekend overall. Saturday was a little more drinking and carousing with friends from out of town. I crashed out on a couch and headed home the next morning.
Sunday, nice and refreshed, headed to the pub and to watch a solid trouncing of the United States v. Mexico. Unbelievable. I'm not a big US fan but that was tragic to say the least. Overall it was a quiet Sunday compared to the Friday/Saturday revelry.
I should probably plan on doing these more or less as things happen. My mind is slowly fading and I figured a Monday wrap up would be nice but my mind is fading.
See!
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