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

Bolton at home (Haiti Relief)

Chim Chim!

Top of the league but the blue scum have a game in hand. As usual, did not see the match because of it being a mid-week but thanks to my trusty handy dandy mobile, I was able to keep up with all the scores. I mean all the scores from all the leagues, seriously I considered turning it off for a moment but I did not.

Yes, I'm addicted.

I did head down to the pub after work. A Certain Scouser sent me a couple texts about watching the Liverpool replay. As I figured it, there would be at least something to do on a Wednesday evening that didn't have anything to do with me computer games and this gigantic bottle of Brugal.

I already knew the outcome but thought I'd have a pint anyways. MiniMourhino was walking his dog by and had a few words with him. He had to do a few things so he headed off into the sunset that had already set.

GingerScouse popped by. We discussed the Haiti United shirts, of which he had already received a couple of his. Then he was telling me about the fundraiser the Point Scousers are putting on at Alexander's Tavern.

Let me make sure I get it straight, from 4pm-10pm on Saturday 23 Jan 2010. For a minor donation that goes to the Red Cross Haitian Relief Fund, you get happy hour prices and for a bigger donation, I believe there is a door prize.
(Rumour has it, Scousers have nicked some sweet merch for the door prize)

I really expect all that read this, to try and be there. Haiti has gotten the bad end of the global stick for a long time and is currently being date raped by mother nature. We are all one people in one world and need to look out for each other.

OH and by they way.... this and this. Two class designed shirts in which all proceeds go to Haiti Relief Funds.

~LeChat

Liverpool Away

What a glorious weekend! I will admit my memory of certain said events have faded due to the Sunday Funday Good Luck Day of events that transpired. However I believe I should keep this in some kind of chronological format.

Saturday

I found myself putting up the lights for Christmas, one of my least favorite activities. I really don't see much point in it anymore, they're just stupid little lights. Maybe it is others that find this to be of some enjoyment, personally I feel it's an act of futility.

However, the fact of the matter is that I need to play nice to keep a roof over my head and not pay rent. So, my Saturday was to be spent putting up these bloody lights and sitting around in my room playing video games.

Yes, this was my big plan. I am not that interesting of a person. Give me a web connection and a fast computer and I will hole up for days living off of microwave meals, coffee and other refreshing beverages.

Fine, I will leave out for some Chick-fil-a or to get more beer/rum/grey goose.

I am about to settle in and then I get the miracle text -
(by the way I apparently can't spell miracle correctly in 3 tries)

10.56AM ChelskiGirl: Well this isn't good. Angry Chelsea fans.

My interest is peaked. I realized I hadn't looked at any scores at this time. I had just got in from hanging the lights and was just settling down in my chair for a day of gaming fun.

10.57AM LeChat: Oh Yah?

I hop on the laptop, click click click, Guardian football scores.
CONFIRMED! Chelski was bottling it big time against Everton. Which serves ChelskiGirl right for going to London and seeing Madness.

There is a GOD and he/she/it loves the Arsenal.

I dropped whatever it was that I was planning, put my shoes, coat and gloves back on and headed towards the promised land, or as I call it the pub.

11.08AM ChelskiGirl: Sad quiet and grunting

All I can say is that I made it to the pub in record time. Schumacher would have been proud. I walked in just as the second half was starting and IrishDave is giving it up big time to the ChelskiBoys. I got a few glaring but welcoming nods and I think someone may have told me to go home. I just smiled and found a spot to watch the dismantling of the glorious Chelski at the hands of a mid-table Everton.

11.18AM LeChat: hehe

Chelski scores one shortly into the second. The Boys were doing their little dance and song. I quietly vowed to myself not to come down for any more Chelski games, since it must be me who is giving them luck.

11.22AM ChelskiGirl: Better now!

At this point in time, I am figuring this will just end up being another shit weekend. I got my hopes up only to have them shattered, once again. Then in the glory of a once most hated and now semi-liked striker who shall go by the name of SAHA. Saha salvation is now upon us in 4 minutes.

11.26AM LeChat: Yes much better

11.27AM ChelskiGirl: Fuck you

Such harsh words. I, however, was more than content with the draw. I couldn't help but not wipe the Chesire grin off my face. The ChelskiBoys for the most part consigned themselves to the result as we all focused on bewitching the MancScum.

Word around the pub about this time is that Wolves had stuffed Scum, 1-Nil. ManShitty, which had a small vocal crowd in the back section had also drawn to Bolton.

Quick note: There was a random Scum supporter. I hadn't really been paying attention but assumed he was ManShitty from the bluish colour of his kit. He mentioned something about covering it up. I looked at him after he had pulled his jacket closed and said something to the effect of Bolton being a tough team.

He chuckled nervously and said "OH, no, we lost to Wolves," then showed me the badge.

I laughed, "Ha! Fucking scum deserved it."

We spoke a little bit about league positions and then he had to leave. I took the table he was sitting at, just to have a good view of the televisions and optimum abuse hurling positioning.

There was actually a good number of United supporters. HalfArseDean and I were making comments how the one guy looked like the blonde kid from the Karate Kid movie. This led to several movie quotes between the two of us and the Sheriff.


Villa go up with the Agbonlahor strike and I kid you not, more than half the pub started cheering. However, it was a nervous second half. MancScum has the ability to turn a 1-nil first half into a 1-4 second half rather quickly or as ChelskiGirl put it, "London is waiting with baited breath... VillaVillaVilla."

To add to my mood, the fat C*nt Rooney gets a card for diving. I felt like I was in an alternate universe. I think everyone did, about fucking time.

The second half seemed to drag on forever and 3 days. When it was all said and done and the final whistle was blown, the scoreline stood. One Nil to the Villa!

I found the exit, as I had plenty to do and didn't want to kill my bank account before the Scouser match on Sunday.

SUNDAY SUNDAY SUNDAY!

Live at the pub, Thames Street, Baltimore.

In this corner, wearing the red. The Red tide of money snatching, granny mugging, hubcap robbing, ice pick striking northern bastards.... SCOUSERS!

In the opposite corner, wearing the away blue. The youthful and rather short side, visiting from the beautiful Ashburton Grove, North London... The Royal ARSENAL!

For those who don't know, well if you are reading this, you probably do know, that Gunner-Scouse fixtures are a big deal, no matter when they come on the calendar. They are akin to any of the big 4 meetings, more respectful and sporting than say a Gunner-MancScum fixture and less one-sided than Gunner-Scum fixtures.

Ahh, I remember the snatching the league at Anfield, 1989.
10 minutes for you to enjoy. A moment I can relive over and over.
Thank GOD for YouTube, seriously.



I appeared at the pub early, to get some breakfast in and find a good seat, as I expected the Red Scouse Tide to takeover the pub, as usual. HalfArseDean had beaten me there and I settled down at the booth with him.

It was actually quite quiet for some time. WestsideScouser came in shortly after and grabbed the small table where he's usually sitting. We all joked around for a bit, no one really expecting anything to happen.

WestsideScouser was telling us about one of the ChelskiBoys that he's good friends with. Apparently, he takes quite some time getting all primmed up before he comes out. I vow to start calling him Girlfriend from now on.

WestsideScouser agrees that it is spot on. Girlfriend shows up about 10 minutes after, and is greeted by his new nickname, taking it in stride like a good woman should.

He's always quick on the quips anyways so he gives it as much as he takes it. Hmm, talking about a ChelskiBoy like that makes me feel kind of gross.

Gooners started coming in about 30 minutes before kick off, Scousers seemed to be running late. It was really odd. However, the usuals were in place. GrumpyGooner, HalfArseDean, LilBlondieGooner, Nightcaller, Bistroboys(Yes, some have come back and I know they probably hate that I refer to them that way but I never have been to the Bistro, they have) and several others.

A good Arsenal showing I must say. We understand the importance of every point at this point in the season. It has come to a do or die situation and with the results from Saturday, now we have the drivers seat.

Scousers were still a little thin. A Certain Scouser hadn't even showed up. The Librarian had sent out a text with no response. MancDJ had also popped in looking for her as well. Time was counting down and I have to admit I was a bit surprised she hadn't shown up, so I called.

No answer. Very odd but I figured she was being her usual self, whatever that is. I swear the girl has multiple personality disorder but I'm going to leave it at that. I think she would swear to it as well.

All in all it was a decent game, with a semi-decent gathering. I got really angered by the first Scouse goal and paced all over the place during the half-time break. I knew the weekend had gone too well and the Arsenal had bottled it, like everyone else.

Then lo and behold, like the savior he did not wish to become, Glen Johnson (own goal). Followed by the beauty and precision of a finely tuned automobile, er... Russian fashion designer, Yes! Little Arshavin puts in the most beautiful goal that I have witnessed in ages.

Overjoyed does not describe the feelings that yours truly had at the moment. HalfArseDean was there to whisper "Calm down, Calm down," to me just because it wasn't over yet. Let's just see it was a good finish.

2 crucial goals at Anfield, 20 years and 6 1/2 months later.

After the match, most of the crowd dispersed. Happy Gooners, disappointed Scousers and the few random usuals hanging about. MiniMourhino, Sheffield, ACMilan, LilBlondieGooner, NightCaller and myself hung around for a bit. DoratheExplorer joined us for a bit, which is always a fun time.

NightCaller and I decided to give ScouseDrummer some abuse. I dialed his number and before a word could be spoken he answered. FUCK OFF!

You got to love your mates, even if they are Scouse.

Our little crowd, with the encouragement of Irish started doing football chants during the Ravens game. It was pretty hilarious. The normals who had come in, either laughed or looked in pure shock at us. Someone commented "Isn't their game over?", which was promptly followed by It's ARSELOBA LALALALALA!

Some abuse was hurled around and a lot of laughter. One couple after a rather course round of abuse between myself and Irish decided they had enough, quickly paid their tab and fucked off. We all knew it was a small victory and laughed amongst ourselves.

All good things must come to an end. I agreed to take NightCaller and LilBlondieGooner up to NightCaller's restaurant. LilBlondie and I sat and ate some food that NightCaller had prepared for us. Good times!

By the way, spot on suggestion on the meal NightCaller! Cheers!

I headed back to my hovel, satiated and in a brilliant mood. A great weekend with good mates and wonderful results all around.

It's AR-SE-LO-BA LALALALALALA! ARSELOBA FC! The greatest team that no one has ever seen!

~LeChat