Yah I know the titles have left their usual format. Does it really matter? Perhaps no.
It comes down to a win away and a champions league draw to OM. I can't complain about that. OM is a tough team on a bad day. In their honor, I will listen to Keny Arkana, which seems quite appropriate at this juncture in time.
By the way, I find it astounding how many people simply have no clue about what is going on in the world around them, even in their own backyards. Quite disappointing really, this is why I put no faith in people who only wish to rise to the top without stopping to actually smell the daisies. It's all about how fast and not about having any kind of quality to life.
I, myself, am not the be all and know all of anything. However, I will not shrink away from enjoying my life instead of not enjoying it only to earn a few platitudes. The platitudes will fade and become fading script on an old newspaper or useless data on some computer disk somewhere in the world. It's all for naught if life is never enjoyed.
Anyways, enough of my raging. The future is here. HA! The future is fucked.
Come first of the year, maybe before or after depending on my level of lazy, the blog will hopefully be moving to my own domain. The plan is actually to do a 365 blog, for a number of reasons but there is a lot to say, er write.
I actually need to do some planning, sit down and decide which way I want it to look and feel. As you may have figured it will be a bit away from this one, yes there will still be the Football connections as well as some other things; Music, Art, Technology, Commentary, Politics, Philosophy, but most of all simply me and everything that means.
I think therefore I am; I write because I fucking can.
-LeChat
Showing posts with label arsenal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label arsenal. Show all posts
02 November 2011
24 October 2011
What? They won? YES!
Well what a dynamic weekend!
First things first, Saturday, I was working. Now I really do enjoy the fact that may job is meant to help out the less fortunate, however weekends... working... well I do need money from somewhere. I shouldn't bellyache about things like that and just get on with it.
Mind you I do have a soft spot in my heart for Norwich... go'on Canaries! 'ave em!
Sunday was a much more productive day. The Arsenal faithful were dealt the normal cards and seated in the Arsenal section, in the back of the pub. While the main event, MancScum v. Shitty was appearing on the bigger screens.
It was well worth it.
Since ManCity Himself decided to take a vacation to a small Caribbean territory, the One and Only decided to take his place. It was quite funny from where I sat. You could hear her voice above all the rest. The normal, quiet, reserved English lass had dropped the gloves and was out swinging.
Honestly, she made up for the lack of ManCity Himself not being there. Johnny and the boys couldn't piece together a proper song to save their lives. Well seeing that I never spied half of them before and that goes for both sides of the ScummyShitty fence.
I do want to give a hearty congrats to the Shitty though, still not a big team but keep it up and some day you'll be like your more well known and overly marketed cousin. I dare not call them brothers or the whole of Manchester would probably burn down. Aw what the hell, cousin-brothers!
The rest of the afterglow was spent chatting with Vincenzo and Camo about various things before and after the dismantling of Chelski at the hands of who? I don't know some Park Rangers or something, haven't been in the league in 15 odd years or so. Bad thing is, I actually remember when they were in the top flight. Back before the money moved in and the chairman lost his soul. Back when I could play 90 minutes and not complain about my ankles the next morning. Back when I was satisfied reading the Monday paper on Tuesday for match reports of the past weekend.
I could go on but that would be pointless.
One that note.. did anyone notice Wright-Phillips played on the left and Joey Barton on the right wing! I could tell my other joke but it's not good for mixed company.
Now for Girls Aloud! (aka The One and Only and her crew)
I know half the pub didn't get that joke, which is even funnier!
c'est la vie
~LeChat
First things first, Saturday, I was working. Now I really do enjoy the fact that may job is meant to help out the less fortunate, however weekends... working... well I do need money from somewhere. I shouldn't bellyache about things like that and just get on with it.
Mind you I do have a soft spot in my heart for Norwich... go'on Canaries! 'ave em!
Sunday was a much more productive day. The Arsenal faithful were dealt the normal cards and seated in the Arsenal section, in the back of the pub. While the main event, MancScum v. Shitty was appearing on the bigger screens.
It was well worth it.
Since ManCity Himself decided to take a vacation to a small Caribbean territory, the One and Only decided to take his place. It was quite funny from where I sat. You could hear her voice above all the rest. The normal, quiet, reserved English lass had dropped the gloves and was out swinging.
Honestly, she made up for the lack of ManCity Himself not being there. Johnny and the boys couldn't piece together a proper song to save their lives. Well seeing that I never spied half of them before and that goes for both sides of the ScummyShitty fence.
I do want to give a hearty congrats to the Shitty though, still not a big team but keep it up and some day you'll be like your more well known and overly marketed cousin. I dare not call them brothers or the whole of Manchester would probably burn down. Aw what the hell, cousin-brothers!
The rest of the afterglow was spent chatting with Vincenzo and Camo about various things before and after the dismantling of Chelski at the hands of who? I don't know some Park Rangers or something, haven't been in the league in 15 odd years or so. Bad thing is, I actually remember when they were in the top flight. Back before the money moved in and the chairman lost his soul. Back when I could play 90 minutes and not complain about my ankles the next morning. Back when I was satisfied reading the Monday paper on Tuesday for match reports of the past weekend.
I could go on but that would be pointless.
One that note.. did anyone notice Wright-Phillips played on the left and Joey Barton on the right wing! I could tell my other joke but it's not good for mixed company.
Now for Girls Aloud! (aka The One and Only and her crew)
I know half the pub didn't get that joke, which is even funnier!
c'est la vie
~LeChat
17 October 2011
Sunderland at Home
Another pleasant weekend goes by, and the Arsenal take three points. I would guess that I should be taking away some satisfaction but the reality of it all is that it feels quite hollow. Three points is three points, no matter what, right? I don't give in easily with that philosophy but I do understand it.
Saturday at the pub was quite fun. The Scousers and Mancscum seemed to make it a game. Which at the end of the day, is what you really want to see. The mega blow out things are a bit... lacking... For lack of a better word.
The marathon kept a couple people pinned in to our little bubble which wasn't a bad thing. It's nice when folks stick around a bit. That hasn't been happening much at all lately. Myself, Camo, and HalfArseDean made a day of it though, even caught up with ACMilan, who was his usual self.
Sunday... well outside of the fact that I thought the game was at 10, was pretty nice. All the regular cast of characters, who jeered me for showing up in the middle of the second half, so sort of a homecoming, in an odd sort of way.
Afterwards, I found myself, Ginger, and SlainteLOSC surrounded by Geordies and Scum. Some new scum, I'd never spied before. They seemed a nice enough lot but not ones who have been bled upon the altar before.
One, who I know was kidding, asked if I had Adebayor's name on my kit. Of course I sneered in my sneery way and said, “I don't put anyone's name on my back, least of all a mercenary like half your lot.”
He laughed a bit nervously. Maybe between that and me saying earlier that he was lucky I couldn't find a knife fast enough to stab him when he had sat down next to me. Albeit they did put the one lads girlfriend between me and them. I don't think it was on purpose but it did happen.
Whilst I was waiting for my check, this guy comes up to me, introduces himself and starts asking about the game. I mention that I only made it down for the second half. Then he asks where I watch the Arsenal games. My reply of course was “Here, This is my home-bar.”
The next words that come out of his mouth were something something bistro. I took a deep breath and shook my head, “I don't go to that place.”
This led into a long conversation. He explained that he actually helps out preparing the place for the games and what not. He also mentioned how a certain person has made himself quite a few enemies. I explained to him the reasons why I don't patron that place and how I felt about, in gentle terms.
Mind you, the guy was simply a nice guy but he kept trying to convince me to go over to the bistro for a game. I tried being a nice and diplomatic as I could about it before finally tiring of the conversation, but it kept going for some odd reason.
Now I know exactly how it feels to be tapped up when your happy playing for your own club or in this case watching the football at your home-bar.
Ginger had been waiting patiently, while me and the bistroguy chatted, so I conveniently slipped in that we both needed to go and nodded towards her. He let me escape, but seriously it made me wonder if he had come over on a recruitment mission and I just happened to be the only one left.
Who knows? All I can say, as I have said before, I will never be setting a foot in that bloody place.
~LeChat
Saturday at the pub was quite fun. The Scousers and Mancscum seemed to make it a game. Which at the end of the day, is what you really want to see. The mega blow out things are a bit... lacking... For lack of a better word.
The marathon kept a couple people pinned in to our little bubble which wasn't a bad thing. It's nice when folks stick around a bit. That hasn't been happening much at all lately. Myself, Camo, and HalfArseDean made a day of it though, even caught up with ACMilan, who was his usual self.
Sunday... well outside of the fact that I thought the game was at 10, was pretty nice. All the regular cast of characters, who jeered me for showing up in the middle of the second half, so sort of a homecoming, in an odd sort of way.
Afterwards, I found myself, Ginger, and SlainteLOSC surrounded by Geordies and Scum. Some new scum, I'd never spied before. They seemed a nice enough lot but not ones who have been bled upon the altar before.
One, who I know was kidding, asked if I had Adebayor's name on my kit. Of course I sneered in my sneery way and said, “I don't put anyone's name on my back, least of all a mercenary like half your lot.”
He laughed a bit nervously. Maybe between that and me saying earlier that he was lucky I couldn't find a knife fast enough to stab him when he had sat down next to me. Albeit they did put the one lads girlfriend between me and them. I don't think it was on purpose but it did happen.
Whilst I was waiting for my check, this guy comes up to me, introduces himself and starts asking about the game. I mention that I only made it down for the second half. Then he asks where I watch the Arsenal games. My reply of course was “Here, This is my home-bar.”
The next words that come out of his mouth were something something bistro. I took a deep breath and shook my head, “I don't go to that place.”
This led into a long conversation. He explained that he actually helps out preparing the place for the games and what not. He also mentioned how a certain person has made himself quite a few enemies. I explained to him the reasons why I don't patron that place and how I felt about, in gentle terms.
Mind you, the guy was simply a nice guy but he kept trying to convince me to go over to the bistro for a game. I tried being a nice and diplomatic as I could about it before finally tiring of the conversation, but it kept going for some odd reason.
Now I know exactly how it feels to be tapped up when your happy playing for your own club or in this case watching the football at your home-bar.
Ginger had been waiting patiently, while me and the bistroguy chatted, so I conveniently slipped in that we both needed to go and nodded towards her. He let me escape, but seriously it made me wonder if he had come over on a recruitment mission and I just happened to be the only one left.
Who knows? All I can say, as I have said before, I will never be setting a foot in that bloody place.
~LeChat
22 August 2011
3 games 1 blog
Well 2 plus one qualifier have passed. And yes this is my first actual blog of the season. I wasn't up to writing at all this summer or even towards the end of the season. Isn't it time for us to get reacquainted.
This blog itself became a concept in my mind several years ago, after my umpteenth reading of Fever Pitch. If you haven't read it and claim to be a football supporter, then I'd put it on your summer/autumnal reading list. Basically, the author parallels his ups and downs in his life with the ebb and flow of a certain North London club's season. I'll just say it's a good read and there have been two movies made out of it. (One for an American audience with the Red Sox as the team... *grumble*)
Now that was not my only inspiration, or should I say push to make the concept come to fruition. There have been several other books written on the discourse of how society and culture relate to football. And there is no denying that it has become so entwined in the very lives of some peoples that it permeates every aspect of culture.
Why is this important?
It is what this blog is about; my society, my culture, my life and how football impregnates it, parallels it and frankly can make a right mess of it. I don't really care about how many kilometers player x ran or whether or not player y got traded on for 50 million quid and a very nice looking sheep. There is plenty of coverage of that... stuff... is it necessary to have another blog about it?
So here, I lay out my life, my thoughts and my general ideas about everything and it's relationship with the one thing. It would be easy to say that I have some clearly obsessive tendency but that is not the case. However, it should be noted that football is the glue that can bring some very divergent minds together. It's a beautiful thing.
I can have a conversation with the rest of the world; agree, disagree, or come to an agreement to disagree, yet at the end of the day, still respect that opinion. That's the real beauty of it. The game itself is just a backdrop. It would be nice if we could all sit down for a pint, maybe those in white castles could have a better understanding of those in the favela, perhaps?
Who knows?
What I do know is that I spent the last two weekends at the pub. Back in action with a few familiar faces and some that I have never seen before and more than likely not see much often after. While I might pretend to not want any newbies showing up, it really is a good thing. It shows there are those out there who just might get drawn into the fold. Someone for whom a spark will light off in their dim, mundane, every day existence and will finally be welcomed as an us, rather than a them.
I might get accused for treating football supporters like an exclusive club, but it's obvious, there is a certain pretext to it, an underlying evolution that has occurred in each and every supporter at one time or another. It is the glue that binds as well as causes cruddy things to stick, whether we like it or not; drunken, violent, territorial, loud and sophomoric. I stop short of moronic because that is simply unfair; morons receive benefits and treatment.
These are the things that football supporters are accused of around the world; not to mention homophobia, xenophobia, nationalism and racism. We, ourselves, know this to be a minority and shouldn't let it taint our love and love others have for the game.
It is quite sad that this is on my mind at the start of a season. It is a bitter reality, a pill to swallow. In order to know beauty, one must also know ugliness. Another cliché would be that beauty will prevail above all else. Let's hope it does and the rest of the season is a beautiful one.
Now that was not my only inspiration, or should I say push to make the concept come to fruition. There have been several other books written on the discourse of how society and culture relate to football. And there is no denying that it has become so entwined in the very lives of some peoples that it permeates every aspect of culture.
Why is this important?
It is what this blog is about; my society, my culture, my life and how football impregnates it, parallels it and frankly can make a right mess of it. I don't really care about how many kilometers player x ran or whether or not player y got traded on for 50 million quid and a very nice looking sheep. There is plenty of coverage of that... stuff... is it necessary to have another blog about it?
So here, I lay out my life, my thoughts and my general ideas about everything and it's relationship with the one thing. It would be easy to say that I have some clearly obsessive tendency but that is not the case. However, it should be noted that football is the glue that can bring some very divergent minds together. It's a beautiful thing.
I can have a conversation with the rest of the world; agree, disagree, or come to an agreement to disagree, yet at the end of the day, still respect that opinion. That's the real beauty of it. The game itself is just a backdrop. It would be nice if we could all sit down for a pint, maybe those in white castles could have a better understanding of those in the favela, perhaps?
Who knows?
What I do know is that I spent the last two weekends at the pub. Back in action with a few familiar faces and some that I have never seen before and more than likely not see much often after. While I might pretend to not want any newbies showing up, it really is a good thing. It shows there are those out there who just might get drawn into the fold. Someone for whom a spark will light off in their dim, mundane, every day existence and will finally be welcomed as an us, rather than a them.
I might get accused for treating football supporters like an exclusive club, but it's obvious, there is a certain pretext to it, an underlying evolution that has occurred in each and every supporter at one time or another. It is the glue that binds as well as causes cruddy things to stick, whether we like it or not; drunken, violent, territorial, loud and sophomoric. I stop short of moronic because that is simply unfair; morons receive benefits and treatment.
These are the things that football supporters are accused of around the world; not to mention homophobia, xenophobia, nationalism and racism. We, ourselves, know this to be a minority and shouldn't let it taint our love and love others have for the game.
It is quite sad that this is on my mind at the start of a season. It is a bitter reality, a pill to swallow. In order to know beauty, one must also know ugliness. Another cliché would be that beauty will prevail above all else. Let's hope it does and the rest of the season is a beautiful one.
14 March 2011
Barcelona Away (CL) ManYoo Away (FA)
I don't have much to say. Really nothing to say at all.
To be honest, I've given up on things to say. It's really indefensible.
Two competitions in one week. What is there to be said? Nothing at all.
My CD player has stopped working in my car. My laptop has a virus and won't let me restore. Japan got wiped out and there was not a large monster in sight!
Will something restore my faith?
Wait? What's this? JENS? You've got to be kidding.
I don't really care anymore.
~LeChat
To be honest, I've given up on things to say. It's really indefensible.
Two competitions in one week. What is there to be said? Nothing at all.
My CD player has stopped working in my car. My laptop has a virus and won't let me restore. Japan got wiped out and there was not a large monster in sight!
Will something restore my faith?
Wait? What's this? JENS? You've got to be kidding.
I don't really care anymore.
~LeChat
07 March 2011
Orient at Home (FA) and Sunderland at Home
My what a lackluster week. To be honest, I could care less about either tie. It's kind of funny how one can be a hero on a Wednesday and a complete muppet by the weekend.
Nicklas Bendtner, please stand up!
Fact of the matter is you may think you're the bees knees but your consistency is severely lacking. The big head and the big feet need to be in communication.
Ahh, I'm not here to slag off on poor Nicky alone. Honestly there's no reason, no concrete reason to drop points at this stage of the season. With the United scum falling prey to the team that once was Liverpool, the Arsenal would be 1 point, ONE BLOODY SODDING POINT off the title.
However, this is not the team to do things the easy way. Let's not revisit the should have, could have and would haves of these last couple of weeks. It's trying. A man could be dying slowly in a pool of quicksand and you have about 33% chance of the Arsenal throwing the rope within arms reach, whether or not the rope doesn't break is a different story.
I know there are some reading this saying, "What kind of fan are you, slagging off your own squad like this? Are you some kind of glory hunter? If they don't win, you just whine."
To those I say, when you've been doing this as long as I have, you would understand the intimate and almost salacious relationship you have with your club. How that club comes to define your very being to the point of perversion. How, if you come up to my face and say those words to me, that I might actually haul off and hit you with nary hesitance or judiciousness.
When you have paid your dues and have been allocated your time, in that case, you may question my loyalty as I would question yours. In short, that is not for me to decide nor care about your loyalties or lack thereof.
I'm just saying, I've walked the valley of death and am prepared to stride once more with my head held high, in spite of what mine enemies and detractors would throw down upon me.
Oh to... Oh to be... Oh to be a Gooner!
~LeChat
Nicklas Bendtner, please stand up!
Fact of the matter is you may think you're the bees knees but your consistency is severely lacking. The big head and the big feet need to be in communication.
Ahh, I'm not here to slag off on poor Nicky alone. Honestly there's no reason, no concrete reason to drop points at this stage of the season. With the United scum falling prey to the team that once was Liverpool, the Arsenal would be 1 point, ONE BLOODY SODDING POINT off the title.
However, this is not the team to do things the easy way. Let's not revisit the should have, could have and would haves of these last couple of weeks. It's trying. A man could be dying slowly in a pool of quicksand and you have about 33% chance of the Arsenal throwing the rope within arms reach, whether or not the rope doesn't break is a different story.
I know there are some reading this saying, "What kind of fan are you, slagging off your own squad like this? Are you some kind of glory hunter? If they don't win, you just whine."
To those I say, when you've been doing this as long as I have, you would understand the intimate and almost salacious relationship you have with your club. How that club comes to define your very being to the point of perversion. How, if you come up to my face and say those words to me, that I might actually haul off and hit you with nary hesitance or judiciousness.
When you have paid your dues and have been allocated your time, in that case, you may question my loyalty as I would question yours. In short, that is not for me to decide nor care about your loyalties or lack thereof.
I'm just saying, I've walked the valley of death and am prepared to stride once more with my head held high, in spite of what mine enemies and detractors would throw down upon me.
Oh to... Oh to be... Oh to be a Gooner!
~LeChat
21 February 2011
Barcelona at Home (CL) and Leyton Orient Away (FA)
Well a bunch more of the expected.
Earlier in the week, someone had asked me why I hadn't done a write up after the Barca game. Simple reason, I'm only doing the one a week, on the traditional football Monday. I certainly could have but why change?
In all honesty, while Barca are well on form for the last couple of seasons; they are not the be all and end all of the world of football. At the end of the day, they play a game that is determined within 90 minutes, with only one certainty.
The Ball is round.
In the next decade, or maybe in the next couple of years, there will be a new squad on the block that is just clicking and everything is falling down in all the right places.
For every rise, there must be a fall.
I read an article, somewhere that I can't remember, talking about the Dutch total football system and how Ajax employed it for several years cementing their name in the annals of club football history.
So, now while Ajax brings a weepy tear of good time memories to their supporters/fans/wannabes, they're just memories of a once great team. This will too be the fate of Barca and all great teams. Much like the Roman Empire, some nice sculptures and a legacy but little more than a bunch of white marble lying in the sun.
In short, there is no reason to be celebrating until the job is done. And by done, I mean there is still a second half of a series to be played in Camp Nou. The odds stand against the Arsenal but we will see.
Now for the Leyton Orient, another I couldn't really be bothered with. I knew the outcome before I laid my head on the pillow the night before. I'm not a pessimist but a shocking realist, true unto myself.
A game that's supposed to be won, isn't. Simple and true. I have nothing else to say about it but it gives another replay and a bunch of tired millionaires. As a good friend in high school told me once about a girl who would yell at her lovers, "If you're not going to do it right, then why bother?" Truer words have never been spoken. Mind you the girl mentioned above was a bit of a loose one in all honesty.
As many of you may know, this weekend was my birthday as well. If you couldn't make out, than you missed a good time or so I've been told.
Saturday evening I met up with Sheffield and surprised guest appearances by ArsenalBob, The Bakerman and SlainteLOSC. Let's say it was supposed to be a bit of a quiet drink or two before heading up to ChelskiGirl's surprise party.
Little did I know, ArsenalBob had other plans. I think in total it was about 40 odd shots bought and shared amongst a little group that varied in size throughout the early evening hours.
Sheffield, Vinnie, Gingerette and myself decided it was time to go, so we headed up towards the surprise party. Rumour has it that ArsenalBob colourized someone's car and left the Bakerman with a rather large bill.
The surprise for ChelskiGirl went off well. She was late, as usual, but then again it was a surprise so you can never expect those things to go as planned.
Sunday night there was the big party. There are several amongst the pub regulars who share birthdays within the same week, myself included. The birthday extravaganza keeps getting bigger and bigger.
This year, we made sure to grab the society room. Someone asked how many did I expect, but as usual, I had no idea. It's hard to tell 30 odd may respond but you may end up with a lot more or a lot less. One of those things, human nature.
We had some good numbers. I was feeling a bit under the weather, so was not my usual self. To be honest, I was feeling well out of sorts. It appears the flu monster has taken another victim.
I also received some rather sad news on the weekend as well. The man, who I called Santa Claus, a good friend of mine, will be sipping his pints with St. Peter and Gabriel. He lived life to his fullest and was one of the more inspirational people I have ever known.
May the gods bless him and may his soul have a wonderful journey.
~LeChat
Earlier in the week, someone had asked me why I hadn't done a write up after the Barca game. Simple reason, I'm only doing the one a week, on the traditional football Monday. I certainly could have but why change?
In all honesty, while Barca are well on form for the last couple of seasons; they are not the be all and end all of the world of football. At the end of the day, they play a game that is determined within 90 minutes, with only one certainty.
The Ball is round.
In the next decade, or maybe in the next couple of years, there will be a new squad on the block that is just clicking and everything is falling down in all the right places.
For every rise, there must be a fall.
I read an article, somewhere that I can't remember, talking about the Dutch total football system and how Ajax employed it for several years cementing their name in the annals of club football history.
So, now while Ajax brings a weepy tear of good time memories to their supporters/fans/wannabes, they're just memories of a once great team. This will too be the fate of Barca and all great teams. Much like the Roman Empire, some nice sculptures and a legacy but little more than a bunch of white marble lying in the sun.
In short, there is no reason to be celebrating until the job is done. And by done, I mean there is still a second half of a series to be played in Camp Nou. The odds stand against the Arsenal but we will see.
Now for the Leyton Orient, another I couldn't really be bothered with. I knew the outcome before I laid my head on the pillow the night before. I'm not a pessimist but a shocking realist, true unto myself.
A game that's supposed to be won, isn't. Simple and true. I have nothing else to say about it but it gives another replay and a bunch of tired millionaires. As a good friend in high school told me once about a girl who would yell at her lovers, "If you're not going to do it right, then why bother?" Truer words have never been spoken. Mind you the girl mentioned above was a bit of a loose one in all honesty.
As many of you may know, this weekend was my birthday as well. If you couldn't make out, than you missed a good time or so I've been told.
Saturday evening I met up with Sheffield and surprised guest appearances by ArsenalBob, The Bakerman and SlainteLOSC. Let's say it was supposed to be a bit of a quiet drink or two before heading up to ChelskiGirl's surprise party.
Little did I know, ArsenalBob had other plans. I think in total it was about 40 odd shots bought and shared amongst a little group that varied in size throughout the early evening hours.
Sheffield, Vinnie, Gingerette and myself decided it was time to go, so we headed up towards the surprise party. Rumour has it that ArsenalBob colourized someone's car and left the Bakerman with a rather large bill.
The surprise for ChelskiGirl went off well. She was late, as usual, but then again it was a surprise so you can never expect those things to go as planned.
Sunday night there was the big party. There are several amongst the pub regulars who share birthdays within the same week, myself included. The birthday extravaganza keeps getting bigger and bigger.
This year, we made sure to grab the society room. Someone asked how many did I expect, but as usual, I had no idea. It's hard to tell 30 odd may respond but you may end up with a lot more or a lot less. One of those things, human nature.
We had some good numbers. I was feeling a bit under the weather, so was not my usual self. To be honest, I was feeling well out of sorts. It appears the flu monster has taken another victim.
I also received some rather sad news on the weekend as well. The man, who I called Santa Claus, a good friend of mine, will be sipping his pints with St. Peter and Gabriel. He lived life to his fullest and was one of the more inspirational people I have ever known.
May the gods bless him and may his soul have a wonderful journey.
~LeChat
10 January 2011
ManCity at Home (EPL) Leeds at Home (FA)
January and the games come fast and furious, however the blog comes slow and almost on-time. If you haven't noticed, it's easier for me to just combine the mid-weeks in with the weekend games. Keeping up is a test of my mental capacity right now and to be honest I just don't feel like it. This is a work of love and inspiration so it comes when it comes.
Now check these apples. The mid-week affair left little to be desired. I know there were plenty of arguments from all sides. I believe ACMilan even called me to give me his two lire about the game.
So where was I? Oh ManShitty came and played like their namesake, well shitty. Shut the door, parked the bus, acted Italian, however you want to say it. Mind you, no disrespect to the Italians but they do play a good defensive game... almost too good.
And that about sums it up. It was a whole lot of nothing. Nil-NIL
The weekend looked more promising, but I should never get my hopes up. I do follow the Arsenal and have been following them for 20 odd years too long to be deceived by what looks like a skip through the park.
Leeds has always been a team that gives issues. Way back when they were in the olde Division 1, they were a team that caused problems. *cue grainy film clip*
I wasn't feeling up for going to the pub and took in the game on the laptop from my very warm bed. I must say, it was a good idea. Just closed my eyes and listened to it like an old radio show.
Saturday evening, Station played for my friend Matt's benefit. We were the last band so most people had left before we started playing. Oh wells, MiniScouse had shown up and we were talking about the Liverpool United cup tie.
There was a side bet made that if Liverpool didn't lose, I'd get to punch her in the face. Something I was looking forward to in more of a non-serious way. She was being very pessimistic and that is only reserved for Gooners and Brummies. Wouldn't you just be depressed if you were a Brummie?
By the way, let's talk about a proper surprise or well not really a surprise but Stevanage with a victory over Newcastle. I'm still pissed at Newcastle for getting rid of a decent bloke for whatever they put in his place. OH I know exactly what it is but really, was it worth it now? Talk about shit owners.
It reminds me of what was said about the African teams at WC2010 and well all previous World Cups. They have this manager, a good manager knows the team well, gets them through Africa Nations, gets them through Cup qualifiers and looks to give them a good run at the cup and maybe even the finals.
So what do they do when they get ready to go to the group stages. They replace him some Dutch twat that doesn't know a hippo from rhino and thinks that those drums sound really scary like in a movie with cannibals.
Seriously if the man had been there from the beginning, built the team, had dinner with the midfielders and their families, knows that the striker prefers Congolese rap music as opposed to Somali pirate songs, then I'd have no problem with it.
However, it never happens that way. Only a few managers are allowed to build, shape and mold a team. It's not surprising that teams look to have promise and fail, never to meet any kind of potential or consistency, even if that consistency is finishing mid-table year in and year out.
Whatever, fuck it.
~LeChat
(musical finish - Life's Lonely Road by Gregory Isaacs)
Now check these apples. The mid-week affair left little to be desired. I know there were plenty of arguments from all sides. I believe ACMilan even called me to give me his two lire about the game.
(musical interlude - Cloud 9 by Bob Marley followed with)
(Country Roads by Toots and The Maytals)
So where was I? Oh ManShitty came and played like their namesake, well shitty. Shut the door, parked the bus, acted Italian, however you want to say it. Mind you, no disrespect to the Italians but they do play a good defensive game... almost too good.
And that about sums it up. It was a whole lot of nothing. Nil-NIL
The weekend looked more promising, but I should never get my hopes up. I do follow the Arsenal and have been following them for 20 odd years too long to be deceived by what looks like a skip through the park.
Leeds has always been a team that gives issues. Way back when they were in the olde Division 1, they were a team that caused problems. *cue grainy film clip*
I wasn't feeling up for going to the pub and took in the game on the laptop from my very warm bed. I must say, it was a good idea. Just closed my eyes and listened to it like an old radio show.
Saturday evening, Station played for my friend Matt's benefit. We were the last band so most people had left before we started playing. Oh wells, MiniScouse had shown up and we were talking about the Liverpool United cup tie.
There was a side bet made that if Liverpool didn't lose, I'd get to punch her in the face. Something I was looking forward to in more of a non-serious way. She was being very pessimistic and that is only reserved for Gooners and Brummies. Wouldn't you just be depressed if you were a Brummie?
(musical interlude - Day On The Town by Madness)
By the way, let's talk about a proper surprise or well not really a surprise but Stevanage with a victory over Newcastle. I'm still pissed at Newcastle for getting rid of a decent bloke for whatever they put in his place. OH I know exactly what it is but really, was it worth it now? Talk about shit owners.
It reminds me of what was said about the African teams at WC2010 and well all previous World Cups. They have this manager, a good manager knows the team well, gets them through Africa Nations, gets them through Cup qualifiers and looks to give them a good run at the cup and maybe even the finals.
So what do they do when they get ready to go to the group stages. They replace him some Dutch twat that doesn't know a hippo from rhino and thinks that those drums sound really scary like in a movie with cannibals.
Seriously if the man had been there from the beginning, built the team, had dinner with the midfielders and their families, knows that the striker prefers Congolese rap music as opposed to Somali pirate songs, then I'd have no problem with it.
However, it never happens that way. Only a few managers are allowed to build, shape and mold a team. It's not surprising that teams look to have promise and fail, never to meet any kind of potential or consistency, even if that consistency is finishing mid-table year in and year out.
Whatever, fuck it.
~LeChat
(musical finish - Life's Lonely Road by Gregory Isaacs)
04 January 2011
Birmingwho? at Home
LittleblondieGooner took some time out of her busy west coast schedule to remind me that I failed to keep her informed on the inner workings of my stream consciousness also known as this blog.
I kindly informed her that I would not fail again at providing her with the much needed entertainment that she needs, apparently Hollywood and Vine is just not enough for her.
HAPPY NEW YEAR Friends! Let the transfer window open!
Friday - New Year's Eve
It started at 2pm with myself and Sheffield at the pub. We planned on one or two, just to catch up, as we hadn't been able to hang out since the fall of the Roman empire. However, things do change. After a bit, Vinnie came down, need I say things got blurry after such.
We declared a toast to Italy, since it was New Year's there, mind you this was after a few earlier toasts. I believe MiniMo and LittleBlondieGooner had shown up by this time.
Sheffield, Vinnie and myself had taken a few hits of helium from the New Year's eve balloons and tried singing Fill Up My Senses. Another round of shots and I decided it was probably best to go stumbling up the street with Vinnie and GingerCousin who had come in at some point.
By the time we made it up to GingerCousin's place, I was handed some chicken from a Columbian, ate it, and promptly fell asleep on someone's bed. I remember Vinnie coming in and telling me it was New Year's and get my ass up for some sparkly but I wasn't having it. I was snuggled up and not about to move.
Saturday - New Year's Day
All was quiet on New Year's Day as I did my walk of shame through the North end of the point back to my car. I was half inclined to poke my head into the pub to check the MancScum game and say Hi to the sheriff but knew that was a bad idea.
I took in a quick nap and morning ritual back at the homestead and made it down for the second half of some other shit game. Surprised to see an actual Blackpool supporter sitting amongst Shitty faithful.
Some of the same faces from the night before had not gone home, like myself. That was an enjoyable scene. I felt like a ton of bricks, ended up taking a seat next to ArsenalNick on the couches, who at one point disappeared during the half and came back well done.
Shorts came in and had taken up the other seat beside me on the couches. He ordered a chicken sandwich that smelled like the best chicken sandwich ever. It was doing me no good, stole a fry and the night before threatened to come back and visit.
Just a word about the actual game. We were watching it this time. Like recovering from a bad hangover (in other words Wigan) The boys showed there mettle and was able to do over a very harsh Birmingham squad. Those fahkin cunts! Seriously, I'd never seen that much outrageous violence, except in the movies, you know the one where Rambo is like going ape shit on some stupid hick cops.
ArsenalNick kept repeating the quote, "They drew first blood Captain." I don't even know if that's the right quote but it's damn close enough and proved a point. The boys have grown up and now they are the men who play beautiful ball and not afraid to get stuck in as well.
In short, FUCK 'EM ALL LADS!
Build, instead of buy. Assemble and create instead of prefabricated and microwaved. I don't mean to laugh but have you seen the implosions happening with teams wearing blue? I don't see Chelski falling but so far, however maybe they will settle back into the place where they belong.
And now for the best present of the New Year's. HANDBAGS between Ade and, well just about everyone. However, he crossed the line today in my opinion; had a go at King Kolo. Seriously, going after Kolo Touré, in practice! Adebayor, need I say it again? You, my good sir, waste of money, time, space and talent... you fahkin cunt!
Seriously good bye get out of the league and play in Poland or better yet Russia. Hopefully that big head of yours can fit in the Kremlin.
Dear readers, I do apologise for my uncivil tongue. I just can't stand certain people and their certain self-entitled egos; at least you can laugh at Bendtner, the muppet.
~LeChat
I kindly informed her that I would not fail again at providing her with the much needed entertainment that she needs, apparently Hollywood and Vine is just not enough for her.
HAPPY NEW YEAR Friends! Let the transfer window open!
Friday - New Year's Eve
It started at 2pm with myself and Sheffield at the pub. We planned on one or two, just to catch up, as we hadn't been able to hang out since the fall of the Roman empire. However, things do change. After a bit, Vinnie came down, need I say things got blurry after such.
We declared a toast to Italy, since it was New Year's there, mind you this was after a few earlier toasts. I believe MiniMo and LittleBlondieGooner had shown up by this time.
Sheffield, Vinnie and myself had taken a few hits of helium from the New Year's eve balloons and tried singing Fill Up My Senses. Another round of shots and I decided it was probably best to go stumbling up the street with Vinnie and GingerCousin who had come in at some point.
By the time we made it up to GingerCousin's place, I was handed some chicken from a Columbian, ate it, and promptly fell asleep on someone's bed. I remember Vinnie coming in and telling me it was New Year's and get my ass up for some sparkly but I wasn't having it. I was snuggled up and not about to move.
Saturday - New Year's Day
All was quiet on New Year's Day as I did my walk of shame through the North end of the point back to my car. I was half inclined to poke my head into the pub to check the MancScum game and say Hi to the sheriff but knew that was a bad idea.
I took in a quick nap and morning ritual back at the homestead and made it down for the second half of some other shit game. Surprised to see an actual Blackpool supporter sitting amongst Shitty faithful.
Some of the same faces from the night before had not gone home, like myself. That was an enjoyable scene. I felt like a ton of bricks, ended up taking a seat next to ArsenalNick on the couches, who at one point disappeared during the half and came back well done.
Shorts came in and had taken up the other seat beside me on the couches. He ordered a chicken sandwich that smelled like the best chicken sandwich ever. It was doing me no good, stole a fry and the night before threatened to come back and visit.
Just a word about the actual game. We were watching it this time. Like recovering from a bad hangover (in other words Wigan) The boys showed there mettle and was able to do over a very harsh Birmingham squad. Those fahkin cunts! Seriously, I'd never seen that much outrageous violence, except in the movies, you know the one where Rambo is like going ape shit on some stupid hick cops.
ArsenalNick kept repeating the quote, "They drew first blood Captain." I don't even know if that's the right quote but it's damn close enough and proved a point. The boys have grown up and now they are the men who play beautiful ball and not afraid to get stuck in as well.
In short, FUCK 'EM ALL LADS!
Build, instead of buy. Assemble and create instead of prefabricated and microwaved. I don't mean to laugh but have you seen the implosions happening with teams wearing blue? I don't see Chelski falling but so far, however maybe they will settle back into the place where they belong.
And now for the best present of the New Year's. HANDBAGS between Ade and, well just about everyone. However, he crossed the line today in my opinion; had a go at King Kolo. Seriously, going after Kolo Touré, in practice! Adebayor, need I say it again? You, my good sir, waste of money, time, space and talent... you fahkin cunt!
Seriously good bye get out of the league and play in Poland or better yet Russia. Hopefully that big head of yours can fit in the Kremlin.
Dear readers, I do apologise for my uncivil tongue. I just can't stand certain people and their certain self-entitled egos; at least you can laugh at Bendtner, the muppet.
~LeChat
30 December 2010
Chelsea at home, Wigan away
This has been a weird week all around, just to begin with, 2 matches within 3 days time. I know there are those who side with, well they get paid a shit ton of money to look like shit, but it's seriously a lot to ask especially in the premiership.
Boxing Day
Have to admit this was one of the worst Boxing day turn outs I've ever witnessed. It may have been for a lack of quality games on the screens or just no one cares about tradition.
The shitty faithful were streaming their gave across the internet and putting it on the big screen upstairs. I will give proper respect to them for doing that. Downstairs, if I had thrown Mount Everest at the pub I don't think I would have hit a Manc fan/supporter at all.
Now I understand people are out of town for the holidays and all but really, not even a fair-weather or at least one that I knew of. Thank the gods for the local hooligans meandering in and having a few together. For lack of quantity there were a good lot of us surrounding the back tables not paying much attention to the screens at all.
Monday
There we go. A much better turn of events. I have never seen that much red and white in the pub since before the splitters left. Some of the Chelski lads also showed up, nice turn out for them.
So as I've been informed by the man himself, I've never mentioned Shorts in my blog. Shorts, he's a good lad as they would say and yes I know it's a weak nickname for him but it's also early in the morning for me to be typing. I promised him a few lines as well. As I was saying, Shorts has been instrumental in the instigation and creation of new songs and chants for the pub. This, to me, makes him a real pub hero, have a beer Shorts and be kind to those who are shorter.
I swear I must have said something about him at one time or the other. Oh wells, after the game we all headed over to the dollar store for some post match bevvies. LilblondieGooner was trying to figure out if MiniMo was going to let her back into the apartment. I think we all offered a place to stay but we knew he would anyways.
Wednesday
Let us just say it was not as delicious as Monday. Things started off bad, got better and settled into what can only be disappointing but not the worst thing that could happen. It was just weird.
Arsenal on the big screen, Chelski in the back (cough cough where they belong). The Librarian mentioned it was interesting that there was an actual divide in the pub, like an imaginary line that neither side ventured cross. Or maybe I was watching a documentary on North Korea last night. No I'm sure she said something to that affect.
We all spent most of the matches giving each other some friendly abuse. At one point something was said between LilblondieGooner and LilblondieChelski. I still have no idea what was said but I think the west coast is softening LilblondieGooner.
I spent the rest of the night sulking in my own self misery. I even gave up a short trip to the dollar store, just didn't feel like being around people. Like I said, strange night all around; who would give up a trip to the dollar store?
~LeChat
Boxing Day
Have to admit this was one of the worst Boxing day turn outs I've ever witnessed. It may have been for a lack of quality games on the screens or just no one cares about tradition.
The shitty faithful were streaming their gave across the internet and putting it on the big screen upstairs. I will give proper respect to them for doing that. Downstairs, if I had thrown Mount Everest at the pub I don't think I would have hit a Manc fan/supporter at all.
Now I understand people are out of town for the holidays and all but really, not even a fair-weather or at least one that I knew of. Thank the gods for the local hooligans meandering in and having a few together. For lack of quantity there were a good lot of us surrounding the back tables not paying much attention to the screens at all.
Monday
There we go. A much better turn of events. I have never seen that much red and white in the pub since before the splitters left. Some of the Chelski lads also showed up, nice turn out for them.
So as I've been informed by the man himself, I've never mentioned Shorts in my blog. Shorts, he's a good lad as they would say and yes I know it's a weak nickname for him but it's also early in the morning for me to be typing. I promised him a few lines as well. As I was saying, Shorts has been instrumental in the instigation and creation of new songs and chants for the pub. This, to me, makes him a real pub hero, have a beer Shorts and be kind to those who are shorter.
I swear I must have said something about him at one time or the other. Oh wells, after the game we all headed over to the dollar store for some post match bevvies. LilblondieGooner was trying to figure out if MiniMo was going to let her back into the apartment. I think we all offered a place to stay but we knew he would anyways.
Wednesday
Let us just say it was not as delicious as Monday. Things started off bad, got better and settled into what can only be disappointing but not the worst thing that could happen. It was just weird.
Arsenal on the big screen, Chelski in the back (cough cough where they belong). The Librarian mentioned it was interesting that there was an actual divide in the pub, like an imaginary line that neither side ventured cross. Or maybe I was watching a documentary on North Korea last night. No I'm sure she said something to that affect.
We all spent most of the matches giving each other some friendly abuse. At one point something was said between LilblondieGooner and LilblondieChelski. I still have no idea what was said but I think the west coast is softening LilblondieGooner.
I spent the rest of the night sulking in my own self misery. I even gave up a short trip to the dollar store, just didn't feel like being around people. Like I said, strange night all around; who would give up a trip to the dollar store?
~LeChat
14 December 2010
United Away and the forgotten CL
Yes, that's right. I forgot the Champions League-midweek the week before. It didn't really matter much anyways. There wasn't much to say about it. It was just another game that took way too long to finish. So let's just put that to rest and on to more recent things.
I dropped down the pub on Saturday for the Liverpool match at the behest of ScouseDrummer. I wasn't going to, just because I was watching the Habs the night before lose to Detroit. So I eyed up the weekend as not to have to pay attention to any sport, for that matter.
It was also the first time I seen ManCity himself after the Station show. He survived and I think made an impression on the local punk crowd that frequents the bar we play at on occasion. It was nice of him to show up and support.
Anyways, Saturday I sat along the back bench with ScouseDrummer and family, hoping for a Newcastle loss, just because they had fired Chris Hughton, for doing a respectable job. I hate to say I would rather see them dive into the relegation zone but they did look sharp against Liverpool.
However, keeping in mind, they were still running under the Hughton formula. The genius he is, Pardew hasn't been able to instill his special brand of stupidity. HEY didn't he manage WestHam before the slippage?
Back to proper football though, not that Newcastle - Scouse wasn't proper but it wasn't ManScum - Arsenal. I think the week/weekend prior I kept getting asked my opinion on the thing. In my heart of hearts I knew what the result would be but I just kept saying, "we will see, we will see."
I'm not saying my beloved club was going to lose, but I can at least be honest about football. This season, and as pointed out in the Guardian, the last 7 meetings between the Arsenal and ManScum or Chelski; the Arsenal has failed to come away with 3 points.
That's called reality. With the tools in the shed, it is possible, but there's this consistency that seems to be lacking, an end product. Reminds me of my project for Senior seminar at University. I did enough, with the right tools to come away with something that was more than passable, however it still remains an unfinished body of work.
It wasn't a training ground project, as Evra (that gape hole) would have you think, but it wasn't the quality finished project which was envisioned. That's the reality when we look at Ashburton Grove for the moment.
The ball can be stroked along the carpet in the most smooth and silky way but when the end product is not being produced, it's only nice. Not great, not wonderful, not enough to really not worry about being 2-nil up.
LilWestCoastGooner had sent me a few messages about my depressive ways at looking at the club recently. It's not really depressive but I've seen this spell before; I've lived through it, around the time I first started supporting. It came again a few years after Graham took over. It started to hit right before the "Invincibles" season. It just exists.
United has always been a hard club to deal with in the Wenger/Fergie era. I don't see much changing, as they are men cut from the same cloth, managing teams with like dispositions when it comes to building, promoting instead of buying and replacing like a sidewalk whore does with her diaphragms.
Give me 3 more weekends of Arsenal - ManScum! I'll watch it over and over.
~LeChat
I dropped down the pub on Saturday for the Liverpool match at the behest of ScouseDrummer. I wasn't going to, just because I was watching the Habs the night before lose to Detroit. So I eyed up the weekend as not to have to pay attention to any sport, for that matter.
It was also the first time I seen ManCity himself after the Station show. He survived and I think made an impression on the local punk crowd that frequents the bar we play at on occasion. It was nice of him to show up and support.
Anyways, Saturday I sat along the back bench with ScouseDrummer and family, hoping for a Newcastle loss, just because they had fired Chris Hughton, for doing a respectable job. I hate to say I would rather see them dive into the relegation zone but they did look sharp against Liverpool.
However, keeping in mind, they were still running under the Hughton formula. The genius he is, Pardew hasn't been able to instill his special brand of stupidity. HEY didn't he manage WestHam before the slippage?
In the 2006–07 season Pardew was criticised after seeing West Ham through their worst run of defeats in over 70 years which included an exit from the UEFA Cup to Palermo in the very first round[10] and a League Cup defeat to Chesterfield. [11]Thank you Wikipedia. I only use this to prove a point. Honestly, Hughton didn't deserve to be treated like that. So in short, unlucky Hughton and an unlucky Liverpool.
Back to proper football though, not that Newcastle - Scouse wasn't proper but it wasn't ManScum - Arsenal. I think the week/weekend prior I kept getting asked my opinion on the thing. In my heart of hearts I knew what the result would be but I just kept saying, "we will see, we will see."
I'm not saying my beloved club was going to lose, but I can at least be honest about football. This season, and as pointed out in the Guardian, the last 7 meetings between the Arsenal and ManScum or Chelski; the Arsenal has failed to come away with 3 points.
That's called reality. With the tools in the shed, it is possible, but there's this consistency that seems to be lacking, an end product. Reminds me of my project for Senior seminar at University. I did enough, with the right tools to come away with something that was more than passable, however it still remains an unfinished body of work.
It wasn't a training ground project, as Evra (that gape hole) would have you think, but it wasn't the quality finished project which was envisioned. That's the reality when we look at Ashburton Grove for the moment.
The ball can be stroked along the carpet in the most smooth and silky way but when the end product is not being produced, it's only nice. Not great, not wonderful, not enough to really not worry about being 2-nil up.
LilWestCoastGooner had sent me a few messages about my depressive ways at looking at the club recently. It's not really depressive but I've seen this spell before; I've lived through it, around the time I first started supporting. It came again a few years after Graham took over. It started to hit right before the "Invincibles" season. It just exists.
United has always been a hard club to deal with in the Wenger/Fergie era. I don't see much changing, as they are men cut from the same cloth, managing teams with like dispositions when it comes to building, promoting instead of buying and replacing like a sidewalk whore does with her diaphragms.
Give me 3 more weekends of Arsenal - ManScum! I'll watch it over and over.
~LeChat
06 December 2010
Fulham at home
Sometimes even in victory, there can be a kind of sadness or despair. As you know, I don't like to harp on team or individual performance, so I'm not really going to start. However, I'll leave it at this one remark; having one or two good cylinders is not the way to run your four cylinder car.
I've been keeping my profile low as of late. I'm really not in the mood for dealing with any kind of nonsense, even the good kind. I wish I could pinpoint what the exact issue is, as to come to some kind of realistic conclusion but that's not an easy thing to do.
I could point to having a weak defence but all that does is make up another excuse for not being able to finish when you're up at the half, when finishing is necessary. Honestly, what's the point in making up some sad excuse. There's always a cog missing for some odd reason.
Have you ever built something from one of those DIY stores. They give you this pile of parts in the bag and a couple of doo-dads and whizz-bangs. If you're lucky and it's one of the nicer DIY projects you even get a little wrench or special screwdriver type tool as well.
At the end of the project, you look back at your well put together whojamabob and pat yourself on the back. Hell, even take some pictures to show off to your friends on FB or whatever. Then you look at the ground, in the bag with all the doo-dads and whizz-bangs in it and you notice a couple of them that didn't make it into the whojamabob.
You push on it... it seems sturdy. You put your weight on it... it's holding it. You scratch your head, shrug and either toss the bag or put it in that one drawer; you know the one drawer that holds every left over thing that you fear throwing out. Well you never know when you may need those whizz-bangs and doo-dads.
At the end of the day, your project is still standing but for some reason you get the feeling it's incomplete. You know, at least in the back of your head, something is missing. Possibly, it's in the drawer or maybe not. However, it's still standing with a semi-vacant hole where that last doo-dad was supposed to go in.
~LeChat
I've been keeping my profile low as of late. I'm really not in the mood for dealing with any kind of nonsense, even the good kind. I wish I could pinpoint what the exact issue is, as to come to some kind of realistic conclusion but that's not an easy thing to do.
I could point to having a weak defence but all that does is make up another excuse for not being able to finish when you're up at the half, when finishing is necessary. Honestly, what's the point in making up some sad excuse. There's always a cog missing for some odd reason.
Have you ever built something from one of those DIY stores. They give you this pile of parts in the bag and a couple of doo-dads and whizz-bangs. If you're lucky and it's one of the nicer DIY projects you even get a little wrench or special screwdriver type tool as well.
At the end of the project, you look back at your well put together whojamabob and pat yourself on the back. Hell, even take some pictures to show off to your friends on FB or whatever. Then you look at the ground, in the bag with all the doo-dads and whizz-bangs in it and you notice a couple of them that didn't make it into the whojamabob.
You push on it... it seems sturdy. You put your weight on it... it's holding it. You scratch your head, shrug and either toss the bag or put it in that one drawer; you know the one drawer that holds every left over thing that you fear throwing out. Well you never know when you may need those whizz-bangs and doo-dads.
At the end of the day, your project is still standing but for some reason you get the feeling it's incomplete. You know, at least in the back of your head, something is missing. Possibly, it's in the drawer or maybe not. However, it's still standing with a semi-vacant hole where that last doo-dad was supposed to go in.
~LeChat
01 December 2010
Wigan at home (Carling Cup)
Another mid-week gone by and what is there to say? Not much I suppose. As usual I found myself dealing with work stuff. Good thing is, the phone lines went down, so most of the morning was spent actually doing my job, rather than returning calls from over-needy clients.
ArseBob and PastryMan had some little bet going on FB about starting lineups. I popped my head in on it but wasn't really up for the challenge. I'm not that good at picking starting lineups. Years and years of ChampMan has taught me that. One day Bristol City will be the powerhouse team, with my cyber-self as manager.
So I had the gamecast all set up at work. Then like 101 things happened and I totally forgot about it. The more annoying thing, at least at the time, was the Guardian had the play by play only for the MancScum game. In the end however, it turned out to be a boon rather than a bust.
WestHam had it's way with United like Giggs on a sheep farm. At least that's the analogy I was given. I actually didn't find out the final tally until I was about to leave work. The same time I remembered I had the gamecast going on for the Arsenal match.
Yes, that's right, I can be brain dead at times. It just happens.
All in all, with a nice little berth into the semi-finals of the Carling, I can be at least a tad bit happy for the moment.
~LeChat
ArseBob and PastryMan had some little bet going on FB about starting lineups. I popped my head in on it but wasn't really up for the challenge. I'm not that good at picking starting lineups. Years and years of ChampMan has taught me that. One day Bristol City will be the powerhouse team, with my cyber-self as manager.
So I had the gamecast all set up at work. Then like 101 things happened and I totally forgot about it. The more annoying thing, at least at the time, was the Guardian had the play by play only for the MancScum game. In the end however, it turned out to be a boon rather than a bust.
WestHam had it's way with United like Giggs on a sheep farm. At least that's the analogy I was given. I actually didn't find out the final tally until I was about to leave work. The same time I remembered I had the gamecast going on for the Arsenal match.
Yes, that's right, I can be brain dead at times. It just happens.
All in all, with a nice little berth into the semi-finals of the Carling, I can be at least a tad bit happy for the moment.
~LeChat
29 November 2010
Villa Away
The weekend was shaping up to be a bad case of déjà vu. Or I should say more like a nightmare experience all around, but it ended up being just really tame. It was a holiday weekend here, so that meant it was extra long.
Thursday, also known as (American) Thanksgiving, was a bit a strange to begin with. Usually there is a fair number of family around but this year that seemed to be lacking. I spent most of the day pretending to know what I was talking about when it came to American Football. My mother joked with me and reminded me that I never was a big fan of the sport anyways.
I decided to ditch the family festivity and headed to the pub for a couple of drinks. SlainteLOSC had sent out a message earlier about being down there for the evening, so I decided to drop by and say hi. For as dead as the point looked, there were plenty of punters milling around the pub that evening. No one special, just completely random.
Friday I had a show so kept a low profile most of the day. I made a decision to buy a new bass, but I haven't felt like whipping out the card and actually paying for it. For those who care, 5 string - fretless.
Station had a mediocre show. We got our new singer up to speed, sort of burn or blaze. Our previous singer had caught the baby disease and his (wife) had him on lockdown. For a while, we had two singers which was an interesting dynamic.
There's another show coming up this Saturday, which is ScouseDrummer's birthday show. That should be pretty good, and the new singer should be fitting in much better now that the first jitters are out.
Mentioning Saturdays, this past one was a scare and a half for the boys in red and white. I don't really like this whole going 2-nil into the second half and letting the opposition take over the game. IF Villa had been a better squad then we'd be in some trouble.
I stayed around the pub for a bit, as Sheffield's parents were in town. I hadn't seen them since the wedding and they are great people. Sheffield and I had a bit of a clockwatch going on as well. His club was playing my lower division club, Bristol City. Vinnie had also stopped down and was streaming the Reading game.
It was a great reunion in some ways. Plus we did have a bit of entertainment by way of the MancScum game. The ManShitty game on the other hand, well, I guess shitty about explains it.
I took my leave after the games in order to get some much needed rest. It was becoming a much longer weekend without much sleep. Thank god I didn't try and deal with the shopping stupidity that affects this country. I can't believe what people will do for a 50 cent discount on shit they don't really need.
I'm too annoyed about it to rant at the moment. I'll just leave it.
OH Barça, how I adore you. Not only did one of your crews throw rocks at REAL Facist's motorbus but you did it on the field. BRILLIANT!
~LeChat
Thursday, also known as (American) Thanksgiving, was a bit a strange to begin with. Usually there is a fair number of family around but this year that seemed to be lacking. I spent most of the day pretending to know what I was talking about when it came to American Football. My mother joked with me and reminded me that I never was a big fan of the sport anyways.
I decided to ditch the family festivity and headed to the pub for a couple of drinks. SlainteLOSC had sent out a message earlier about being down there for the evening, so I decided to drop by and say hi. For as dead as the point looked, there were plenty of punters milling around the pub that evening. No one special, just completely random.
Friday I had a show so kept a low profile most of the day. I made a decision to buy a new bass, but I haven't felt like whipping out the card and actually paying for it. For those who care, 5 string - fretless.
Station had a mediocre show. We got our new singer up to speed, sort of burn or blaze. Our previous singer had caught the baby disease and his (wife) had him on lockdown. For a while, we had two singers which was an interesting dynamic.
There's another show coming up this Saturday, which is ScouseDrummer's birthday show. That should be pretty good, and the new singer should be fitting in much better now that the first jitters are out.
Mentioning Saturdays, this past one was a scare and a half for the boys in red and white. I don't really like this whole going 2-nil into the second half and letting the opposition take over the game. IF Villa had been a better squad then we'd be in some trouble.
I stayed around the pub for a bit, as Sheffield's parents were in town. I hadn't seen them since the wedding and they are great people. Sheffield and I had a bit of a clockwatch going on as well. His club was playing my lower division club, Bristol City. Vinnie had also stopped down and was streaming the Reading game.
It was a great reunion in some ways. Plus we did have a bit of entertainment by way of the MancScum game. The ManShitty game on the other hand, well, I guess shitty about explains it.
I took my leave after the games in order to get some much needed rest. It was becoming a much longer weekend without much sleep. Thank god I didn't try and deal with the shopping stupidity that affects this country. I can't believe what people will do for a 50 cent discount on shit they don't really need.
I'm too annoyed about it to rant at the moment. I'll just leave it.
OH Barça, how I adore you. Not only did one of your crews throw rocks at REAL Facist's motorbus but you did it on the field. BRILLIANT!
~LeChat
25 October 2010
Man City Away
11 men went to play.. went to play at City!
Ah, what a great way to end the week. THREE points, unbelievable three points but three points none the less. I was convinced of the draw, even after City went down a man. Statistics has it that once a team goes down, usually the team with advantage has a hard time getting to goal.
However, like everything else, the Arsenal flaunts its shoulders against all odds. Watching the boys get out there and start kicking back, as well as gently caressing the ball along the pitch in that silky smooth way was a joy.
I swear a slight tear formed in my eye as this was starting to look like the team of old. By old, I mean even before Wenger was a household name in Islington. Ye Olde Arsenal was a tough nugget, hated throughout the league, known for kicking the sin out of all heretics and punching one in before the 90 was up.
I could wax on and on about this and that, about when George Graham took over, about when Wenger took over and changed the league, about the emergence of unknowns to penultimate super stardom, about the nastiness given to the club in the media; YEARS and years of it.
Now it looks as if a perfect storm of good ol'English stick a boot in with the smooth flavour of continental passing and speed of fleet footed footballers on beautifully manicured pitches has come to fruition.
I can really only get into the Sunday action at the pub though. Saturday was spent at my cousin's wedding. I watched the morning games from bed or on the tubes. I did download the Football Manager demo, which is pure class. If you ever were a proponent of the old SI Champ Manager, then this is the series you want to play.
So Sunday it is, made it down for the second half of the ManYoo game, which I paid about five minutes of attention to. I think I was talking to the Deputy about food or something, when the Sheriff turned around and said one of the best lines of the week.
YES a direct quote. He tried to recover but I know what I heard. It kind of reminded me of this picture.
Fine, don't get all mad at me but it's the truth. Now personally I have no problems with you loving on each other like so, that's all well and good. I mean didn't the Greeks do that as well? Just keep it in Manchester.
Anyways, by the time the ManShitty game came on, ManCity himself was quite a few sheets to the wind. He reminded me of the gentleman's wager we had going on and was proper fired up for the match. Too bad it wasn't going to be his day. Originally he was going to head to the bistro to cause a riot but he didn't feel like dealing with the American Football traffic on the south-side.
There was a good crowd on hand for both clubs, which was good to see. HalfArseDean was slumped in the corner being angry. I swear it's quite unusual for him. Myself, or so ManCity himself kept telling me, was out of sorts as well. I don't know.. I think my cousin's wedding killed my spirit. It's the middle of the first half of the football season and you're going to get married. WHAT? Anyways that's all said and done.
So today as I was doing my daily perusal of the Guardian. I found this equally brilliant quote. Now me and Michel P aren't always on the same side of the ball but this is one issue I think we both agree on. I'm just going to totally lift it, damn you copyright.
The one true beauty in football is the flow of the game, end to end. The rules, as the Argentines and Italians would say, are a mere suggestion. It is possibly one of the most natural of all the regulated sports, in my opinion.
Joga Bonito?
~LeChat
Ah, what a great way to end the week. THREE points, unbelievable three points but three points none the less. I was convinced of the draw, even after City went down a man. Statistics has it that once a team goes down, usually the team with advantage has a hard time getting to goal.
However, like everything else, the Arsenal flaunts its shoulders against all odds. Watching the boys get out there and start kicking back, as well as gently caressing the ball along the pitch in that silky smooth way was a joy.
I swear a slight tear formed in my eye as this was starting to look like the team of old. By old, I mean even before Wenger was a household name in Islington. Ye Olde Arsenal was a tough nugget, hated throughout the league, known for kicking the sin out of all heretics and punching one in before the 90 was up.
I could wax on and on about this and that, about when George Graham took over, about when Wenger took over and changed the league, about the emergence of unknowns to penultimate super stardom, about the nastiness given to the club in the media; YEARS and years of it.
Now it looks as if a perfect storm of good ol'English stick a boot in with the smooth flavour of continental passing and speed of fleet footed footballers on beautifully manicured pitches has come to fruition.
I can really only get into the Sunday action at the pub though. Saturday was spent at my cousin's wedding. I watched the morning games from bed or on the tubes. I did download the Football Manager demo, which is pure class. If you ever were a proponent of the old SI Champ Manager, then this is the series you want to play.
So Sunday it is, made it down for the second half of the ManYoo game, which I paid about five minutes of attention to. I think I was talking to the Deputy about food or something, when the Sheriff turned around and said one of the best lines of the week.
I just love Gary Neville's balls.
YES a direct quote. He tried to recover but I know what I heard. It kind of reminded me of this picture.
Classic! Need a say more? Sorry Sheriff, told you it was blog worthy and so is that picture. I think it's from one of the cups but I can't remember I must have used it in a previous blog. It just goes to prove something, doesn't it.
(self edit due to the amount of emo suicides lately, don't want to be blamed)
(self edit due to the amount of emo suicides lately, don't want to be blamed)
Fine, don't get all mad at me but it's the truth. Now personally I have no problems with you loving on each other like so, that's all well and good. I mean didn't the Greeks do that as well? Just keep it in Manchester.
Anyways, by the time the ManShitty game came on, ManCity himself was quite a few sheets to the wind. He reminded me of the gentleman's wager we had going on and was proper fired up for the match. Too bad it wasn't going to be his day. Originally he was going to head to the bistro to cause a riot but he didn't feel like dealing with the American Football traffic on the south-side.
There was a good crowd on hand for both clubs, which was good to see. HalfArseDean was slumped in the corner being angry. I swear it's quite unusual for him. Myself, or so ManCity himself kept telling me, was out of sorts as well. I don't know.. I think my cousin's wedding killed my spirit. It's the middle of the first half of the football season and you're going to get married. WHAT? Anyways that's all said and done.
So today as I was doing my daily perusal of the Guardian. I found this equally brilliant quote. Now me and Michel P aren't always on the same side of the ball but this is one issue I think we both agree on. I'm just going to totally lift it, damn you copyright.
Uefa's president, Michel Platini, has claimed introducing goal-line technology will lead to "PlayStation football" but admits that referees have to be masochists to cope with all the criticism thrown at them.He goes on to say;
One referee is not enough, not in the modern era where you have 20 cameras. It is unfair: the cameras can see everything but the referee only has one pair of eyes. Every time he makes a mistake, those cameras are there to focus on it.Which, like I said, I completely agree with. His idea is to put goal line assistants, right behind the net. While it may be better on paper than actually in practice, I think it's not a bad idea. Ice hockey has something similar going on and it seems to work out, at least they used to, I know they review stuff every now and again but then again Ice Hockey has more play stoppages than Football.
The one true beauty in football is the flow of the game, end to end. The rules, as the Argentines and Italians would say, are a mere suggestion. It is possibly one of the most natural of all the regulated sports, in my opinion.
Joga Bonito?
~LeChat
04 October 2010
Chelsea Away
OH how I wish this weekend panned out better. I don't really have much to say about it to be honest. Needless to say it was a good time.
The pub was chock full of people. It was essentially alive with song. Which for being a festival weekend, this was a good thing. I think it kept out the little tourist people.
So, without much to say where does that leave me? No where... that's where.
I took a look at the Guardian's analysis which was interesting, for about 2 minutes. Maybe I'm just bitter.. and angry.. no how about disappointed in the whole affair.
Here's a video
~LeChat
The pub was chock full of people. It was essentially alive with song. Which for being a festival weekend, this was a good thing. I think it kept out the little tourist people.
So, without much to say where does that leave me? No where... that's where.
I took a look at the Guardian's analysis which was interesting, for about 2 minutes. Maybe I'm just bitter.. and angry.. no how about disappointed in the whole affair.
Here's a video
~LeChat
27 September 2010
West Brom at Home
REALLY! Chelski drops points a few moments before kick off and what does the good ol'Arsenal go off and do. You know what they didn't do. Couldn't even manage a draw against a side that does the good old up and down.
My usual pub forays are becoming more or less the cause of a bad heart condition. I think this whole having hope for some silverware thing is really not good for my health. I know I sound like a pessimistic person but did you watch the game this weekend.
So what else is new? Nothing.
There was an interesting article about Anelka on CNN, no less, today. It goes on about how despite his nickname, "Le Sulk", that he really is a man of principle who let's his football do the talking for him.
They went on to compare him with the likes of Cantona and Keane. You know, I personally stood behind Nico's act of telling Domenech what he thought of him. I wish more people would have done that earlier and France, just maybe, would have done a tad bit better.
Principle, such a strange concept in today's world. For example, not to belabor a point, but it's a matter of Principle that I don't even fathom the thought about going to a certain bistro to watch my football.
I know I'm not god's gift to Arsenal supporters or any kind of supporters for that sake, but there is no way I'm going to acknowledge that place as any football pub. Hell, it's not even a pub... it's a bistro.
ManCity Himself was letting me know this weekend that we should go terrorize the place but honestly, I can't do it. It's like giving in, like saying I know that you exist and that you actually have an effect on my world. Whatever, I spent too many pixels even typing about that place.
Mentioning places to watch football, the pub recently celebrated like 7 years since being open. It's kind of interesting that I've been watching football there that long as well. Myself, GrumpyGooner and a few others of our old crew started coming down to Fells as we had grown tired of the constant annoyance known as Canton.
One of my fondest memories of the old days is sitting at bar, just me and GrumpyGooner, watching Arsenal - Chelski (before they had big money). MiniMourinho was at the other end, venting and turning seven shades of blue as The Arsenal strolled up and down the pitch.
Grumpy and I were of course having a good old laugh about the game. It's always good when you are winning. At one point, MiniMourinho slaps the bar, lets out an expletive or two, pays his tab and walks out. We knew what he was thinking and what he felt. We'd been there before as well.
I don't know why that image and day sticks out in my head so much. The emptiness of the pub or the fact that we had an unspoken conversation with another supporter, whom we didn't know from Sam or Adam.
All I know is that it, the pub, has become this place where football does reside in a city which is now beginning to have a few other options.
~LeChat
My usual pub forays are becoming more or less the cause of a bad heart condition. I think this whole having hope for some silverware thing is really not good for my health. I know I sound like a pessimistic person but did you watch the game this weekend.
So what else is new? Nothing.
There was an interesting article about Anelka on CNN, no less, today. It goes on about how despite his nickname, "Le Sulk", that he really is a man of principle who let's his football do the talking for him.
They went on to compare him with the likes of Cantona and Keane. You know, I personally stood behind Nico's act of telling Domenech what he thought of him. I wish more people would have done that earlier and France, just maybe, would have done a tad bit better.
Principle, such a strange concept in today's world. For example, not to belabor a point, but it's a matter of Principle that I don't even fathom the thought about going to a certain bistro to watch my football.
I know I'm not god's gift to Arsenal supporters or any kind of supporters for that sake, but there is no way I'm going to acknowledge that place as any football pub. Hell, it's not even a pub... it's a bistro.
ManCity Himself was letting me know this weekend that we should go terrorize the place but honestly, I can't do it. It's like giving in, like saying I know that you exist and that you actually have an effect on my world. Whatever, I spent too many pixels even typing about that place.
Mentioning places to watch football, the pub recently celebrated like 7 years since being open. It's kind of interesting that I've been watching football there that long as well. Myself, GrumpyGooner and a few others of our old crew started coming down to Fells as we had grown tired of the constant annoyance known as Canton.
One of my fondest memories of the old days is sitting at bar, just me and GrumpyGooner, watching Arsenal - Chelski (before they had big money). MiniMourinho was at the other end, venting and turning seven shades of blue as The Arsenal strolled up and down the pitch.
Grumpy and I were of course having a good old laugh about the game. It's always good when you are winning. At one point, MiniMourinho slaps the bar, lets out an expletive or two, pays his tab and walks out. We knew what he was thinking and what he felt. We'd been there before as well.
I don't know why that image and day sticks out in my head so much. The emptiness of the pub or the fact that we had an unspoken conversation with another supporter, whom we didn't know from Sam or Adam.
All I know is that it, the pub, has become this place where football does reside in a city which is now beginning to have a few other options.
~LeChat
21 September 2010
Sunderland Away then Spurs Away (Carling)
In not keeping with traditions, I'm writing this today/night. The usual Monday rants got bumped due to me laying in bed with the covers pulled over my head and feeling like some miniature mountain climber was using my esophagus as his Mount Everest.
I am not a big fan of internal pain. External pain, the stuff you can see what's going on, like a skinned up knee or what have you. I can even deal with the pain of a bruise that you get from when someone kicks you in the shin, cause you know what caused it.
I just can't deal with that weird internal stuff caused by whatever flying rhino hypno virus decides to deal you. Call it what you will but all in all the common cold sucks beans.
You know things are just going along fine, just like Saturday. Things are going along fine, never mind the missed penalty. Then all of the sudden, in the 94th minute, you're struck out of nowhere. There is nothing to do but lay under the covers and wish it all away.
Sunday, I personally was not in a cheerful mode. I decided to get up early and make my way to the Manchester - Liverpool tie. There were times I wish I had just stayed in bed. The only consolation to the whole effort was a very beautiful goal by a vampire looking of a man.
I think it was pure dumb luck that I walked back into the pub and glanced at the screen to see it happen in real time. A volley, a touch and a drop of the shoulder putting the ball over his head, off the cross bar and across the line.
Pure beauty. It's what made the other 90 minutes worth sitting through.
All I can say is that while we can watch a player on match day play absolutely horrid, we never have a clue on why the manager keeps picking him. We pray and hope that the boss knows what he's doing but we question it. We all do.
Then one play, amongst the others, shines a brilliant light through the fog that has obfuscated our vision and gives us a glimpse of what the manager sees day in and day out.
Since, I'm cheating a bit and doubling up. All I really have to say about S*urs right now is fuck off. Seriously... fuck off. I won't get to see the highlights until later and frankly knowing the scoreline. I really don't care.
Scum 1 - Gunners 4
It really would be nice if they would just fuck off. Seriously... fuck off.
~LeChat
I am not a big fan of internal pain. External pain, the stuff you can see what's going on, like a skinned up knee or what have you. I can even deal with the pain of a bruise that you get from when someone kicks you in the shin, cause you know what caused it.
I just can't deal with that weird internal stuff caused by whatever flying rhino hypno virus decides to deal you. Call it what you will but all in all the common cold sucks beans.
You know things are just going along fine, just like Saturday. Things are going along fine, never mind the missed penalty. Then all of the sudden, in the 94th minute, you're struck out of nowhere. There is nothing to do but lay under the covers and wish it all away.
Sunday, I personally was not in a cheerful mode. I decided to get up early and make my way to the Manchester - Liverpool tie. There were times I wish I had just stayed in bed. The only consolation to the whole effort was a very beautiful goal by a vampire looking of a man.
I think it was pure dumb luck that I walked back into the pub and glanced at the screen to see it happen in real time. A volley, a touch and a drop of the shoulder putting the ball over his head, off the cross bar and across the line.
Pure beauty. It's what made the other 90 minutes worth sitting through.
All I can say is that while we can watch a player on match day play absolutely horrid, we never have a clue on why the manager keeps picking him. We pray and hope that the boss knows what he's doing but we question it. We all do.
Then one play, amongst the others, shines a brilliant light through the fog that has obfuscated our vision and gives us a glimpse of what the manager sees day in and day out.
Since, I'm cheating a bit and doubling up. All I really have to say about S*urs right now is fuck off. Seriously... fuck off. I won't get to see the highlights until later and frankly knowing the scoreline. I really don't care.
Scum 1 - Gunners 4
It really would be nice if they would just fuck off. Seriously... fuck off.
~LeChat
16 September 2010
Sporting Braga at home - CL
Funny thing about Champions league ties; you realize that there are these other leagues out there vying for something big. I don't mean the likes of Spain, France, Germany or even the Dutch. I am talking about the likes of Portugal and Russia and Scotland.
I don't mean to discount these leagues but you tend to forget that they exist at times. It's like you know there are these little bugs that eat all kinds of deterious matter but you forget they exist until they become a problem.
Somehow these little bugs will grow and grow in number. Then you have this clump of strange bugs eating at whatever these bugs eat. They start to slowly become a problem and then you go and get the exterminator.
There are times when the exterminator works fast, making short work of the bugs clumping around the object of their feast. Eventually these little bugs start to die off, leaving just a few carcass of what was once a great clump of bugs.
These bugs, maybe a few will survive and try to raise their heads. Maybe they say to themselves, "Remember the good old days. We championed over that one foot square piece of carpet. Do you remember?"
The exterminator, with all his tools continues to squirt and squirt until the bug resurgence is nothing but a stained memory on the carpet.
~LeChat
I don't mean to discount these leagues but you tend to forget that they exist at times. It's like you know there are these little bugs that eat all kinds of deterious matter but you forget they exist until they become a problem.
Somehow these little bugs will grow and grow in number. Then you have this clump of strange bugs eating at whatever these bugs eat. They start to slowly become a problem and then you go and get the exterminator.
There are times when the exterminator works fast, making short work of the bugs clumping around the object of their feast. Eventually these little bugs start to die off, leaving just a few carcass of what was once a great clump of bugs.
These bugs, maybe a few will survive and try to raise their heads. Maybe they say to themselves, "Remember the good old days. We championed over that one foot square piece of carpet. Do you remember?"
The exterminator, with all his tools continues to squirt and squirt until the bug resurgence is nothing but a stained memory on the carpet.
~LeChat
13 September 2010
Bolton at Home
I've come to realise after my many many years of supporting a club; just how deeply my affiliation and, for lack of a better word, obsession can be.
Saturday morning, I was headed down to the pub, as usual. I had took a scant glance at the United game before leaving the homestead and not really caring about the scoreline at all. I took the not so usual path down through some of the county roads, as I needed to fuel my car up.
Now, if it isn't obvious to those that read this or know me, I am a pretty way left of center person. One thing I have no care for is the flagrant posting of your cookie cutter political beliefs on your bumper, no matter what your party affiliation.
I don't mean things like "Save the Whales" or "Protect my Guns" or anything with a direct, well intended statement of cause. I'm talking about the stupid "I'm a repub/dem/whatever nonsensical party you choose to make sure everyone else knows you are part of." Honestly, if that is how you fixate your little life, that's all on you.
Yes there is a point to all this, patience.
So I pull up to the stoplight and ahead of me is some yokel with GOP stickers plastered along the back of his not quite full grown SUV. I chuckled a bit cause it's an SUV instead of Fuckemup Pickuptruck. Now it didn't really raise my ire, as stupidity usually does but you know, it was just like, what are you really saying? Do you really believe in all this? Do you just tow the party line without thought or consequence?
Then I come to realise it is an election year, so I let it go. I will give him credit for having a sticker that said, "I'm a Reagan Republican" which was a bit different from the usual milieu of shite.
We pull up to the next light and he pulls into the lane beside another mini SUV. This one had a big old St. George on the back with England in bold letters scribed in the center. I smile, comparing the two vehicles, now I sit behind a fellow football supporter.
Not so fast, sir! 'Lo and behold, next to the St. George resided a Union Jack... and... unfortunately... it held a 10 letter word, which I can only say with the greatest disgust. He was not a football supporter. He was fucking MANC SCUM!
I sat there, gripping my steering wheel and gritting my teeth. I stared into his rear view, calling him all sorts of dirty words, hoping he would look up so I could introduce him to some sign language.
I started noticing other stickers on the back of his piece of crap SUV. MancShit this MancScum that. He had a baby on board sign that said something like Careful Little Piece of Shit Supporter on Board.
The light was starting to last too long. It finally changes and I follow him closely, hoping once he would look up. My eyes drilling into his rearview, thinking to myself, "Comeon you fuck, turn around, so I can call you a FUCK!"
I had to put this mong in his place. I looked back at the GOP SUV and shook my head. He was lucky he didn't have any MancScum shit on his vehicle. I would have probably been arrested if he did.
My attention returns fully to the MancScum SUV in front of me. I start praying he turns into the station up ahead. I was a bit low on gas, so I didn't want to risk following him all over the city, just to tell him to fuck off.
He keeps driving straight. I pull into the station, and start looking for a new victim. I had a lot of pure rage going on at this point. I ended up just angrily swiping my card and calling the gas pump a cunt, cause it started making weird noises as I was refueling.
It made me think as I drove onwards to the pub. I have always taken into account what club someone supports and use that to form the basis of opinion about that person.
Don't get me wrong, I do have a few very good friends who are MancScum supporters. I have even spoken to a couple, yah just one or two, decent, proper Scum supporters. Individually, I can say they are all good people. They know the game. They love their club. You can even have a few beers with them. They just picked the wrong ones to support.
It's a funny disease, football. If you try and get away from it, somehow it just keeps creeping back in. If you don't ever have that feeling, then you're not a proper football supporter.
Yes I am judging you.
You may watch the sport. Play the sport. You may even go take in a game or two every year, but if it doesn't affect so that others may see you as even slightly disturbed or refer to you as "the soccer guy" or some other stupid nickname. Then don't ever dare call yourself a supporter; a fan, yes, but not a supporter.
I'm going to go out on a limb and say this is probably why there is so much distaste for the American support. Yes, they did well in WC2010. The team played much better than expected. The pub was chocked full of punters, however where are those crowds now?
Someone on the street last week spotted me wearing my French kit. He made a comment about something and WC2010. I just nodded and smiled. I think he even asked something along the lines of why I was wearing it, since the World Cup was over.
I just smiled again and said, "I support France."
I didn't feel like explaining Euros to the guy. He was being nice and starting conversation but as a supporter, in general, you just grit your teeth and wish they just didn't say anything at all.
It would be like me discussing the difference between a west coast offence and nickel defence. I could tell you that one means you're attacking and the other means you're defending. I have very little idea on the intricacies of American Football and won't pretend like I do. That's just me though.
Life is funny, so is football. I am glad that I get to enjoy both.
~LeChat
Saturday morning, I was headed down to the pub, as usual. I had took a scant glance at the United game before leaving the homestead and not really caring about the scoreline at all. I took the not so usual path down through some of the county roads, as I needed to fuel my car up.
Now, if it isn't obvious to those that read this or know me, I am a pretty way left of center person. One thing I have no care for is the flagrant posting of your cookie cutter political beliefs on your bumper, no matter what your party affiliation.
I don't mean things like "Save the Whales" or "Protect my Guns" or anything with a direct, well intended statement of cause. I'm talking about the stupid "I'm a repub/dem/whatever nonsensical party you choose to make sure everyone else knows you are part of." Honestly, if that is how you fixate your little life, that's all on you.
Yes there is a point to all this, patience.
So I pull up to the stoplight and ahead of me is some yokel with GOP stickers plastered along the back of his not quite full grown SUV. I chuckled a bit cause it's an SUV instead of Fuckemup Pickuptruck. Now it didn't really raise my ire, as stupidity usually does but you know, it was just like, what are you really saying? Do you really believe in all this? Do you just tow the party line without thought or consequence?
Then I come to realise it is an election year, so I let it go. I will give him credit for having a sticker that said, "I'm a Reagan Republican" which was a bit different from the usual milieu of shite.
We pull up to the next light and he pulls into the lane beside another mini SUV. This one had a big old St. George on the back with England in bold letters scribed in the center. I smile, comparing the two vehicles, now I sit behind a fellow football supporter.
Not so fast, sir! 'Lo and behold, next to the St. George resided a Union Jack... and... unfortunately... it held a 10 letter word, which I can only say with the greatest disgust. He was not a football supporter. He was fucking MANC SCUM!
I sat there, gripping my steering wheel and gritting my teeth. I stared into his rear view, calling him all sorts of dirty words, hoping he would look up so I could introduce him to some sign language.
I started noticing other stickers on the back of his piece of crap SUV. MancShit this MancScum that. He had a baby on board sign that said something like Careful Little Piece of Shit Supporter on Board.
The light was starting to last too long. It finally changes and I follow him closely, hoping once he would look up. My eyes drilling into his rearview, thinking to myself, "Comeon you fuck, turn around, so I can call you a FUCK!"
I had to put this mong in his place. I looked back at the GOP SUV and shook my head. He was lucky he didn't have any MancScum shit on his vehicle. I would have probably been arrested if he did.
My attention returns fully to the MancScum SUV in front of me. I start praying he turns into the station up ahead. I was a bit low on gas, so I didn't want to risk following him all over the city, just to tell him to fuck off.
He keeps driving straight. I pull into the station, and start looking for a new victim. I had a lot of pure rage going on at this point. I ended up just angrily swiping my card and calling the gas pump a cunt, cause it started making weird noises as I was refueling.
It made me think as I drove onwards to the pub. I have always taken into account what club someone supports and use that to form the basis of opinion about that person.
Don't get me wrong, I do have a few very good friends who are MancScum supporters. I have even spoken to a couple, yah just one or two, decent, proper Scum supporters. Individually, I can say they are all good people. They know the game. They love their club. You can even have a few beers with them. They just picked the wrong ones to support.
It's a funny disease, football. If you try and get away from it, somehow it just keeps creeping back in. If you don't ever have that feeling, then you're not a proper football supporter.
Yes I am judging you.
You may watch the sport. Play the sport. You may even go take in a game or two every year, but if it doesn't affect so that others may see you as even slightly disturbed or refer to you as "the soccer guy" or some other stupid nickname. Then don't ever dare call yourself a supporter; a fan, yes, but not a supporter.
I'm going to go out on a limb and say this is probably why there is so much distaste for the American support. Yes, they did well in WC2010. The team played much better than expected. The pub was chocked full of punters, however where are those crowds now?
Someone on the street last week spotted me wearing my French kit. He made a comment about something and WC2010. I just nodded and smiled. I think he even asked something along the lines of why I was wearing it, since the World Cup was over.
I just smiled again and said, "I support France."
I didn't feel like explaining Euros to the guy. He was being nice and starting conversation but as a supporter, in general, you just grit your teeth and wish they just didn't say anything at all.
It would be like me discussing the difference between a west coast offence and nickel defence. I could tell you that one means you're attacking and the other means you're defending. I have very little idea on the intricacies of American Football and won't pretend like I do. That's just me though.
Life is funny, so is football. I am glad that I get to enjoy both.
~LeChat
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