Had to do it - WC 2010 preview

AHHH! I can't do it... I swore to myself I was going to leave it... let it be... not even poke my head in on the pub blog... but god be damned curiosity and bloody fucking cats!

As of late, for those of you who don't know. I did take a venture across the pond to watch Sheffield and the lovely now Ms.Sheffield (formerly WestBrom) tie the knot, jump the broom and release some doves. It was my first trip to Italy, in any way shape or form, and I have to admit it was pretty nice. It totally changed my perspective on the boot shaped nation.

Don't get me wrong though, as far as I'm concerned they are still a bunch of diving, whining, wind up merchants who compete with the Argies on how far they can bend the rules of the game. I mean seriously only an Argie could hit someone with a car and back up and tell them it was their fault for getting in the way. HI DIEGO!

So, the question on everyone's mind, probably not, what's the WC2010 looking like for LeChat? I'm figuring it's going to be something very interesting. I've been asked on two different continents and an island, my thoughts so far. I, of course, hmmm and haaa, and try and get out of those conversations rather quickly; with the exception of ACMilan who has a way of interviewing me like a Daily Mail reporter at a press event.

Summed up... I pegging a dark horse to ask some questions this year.

Hold on, that didn't come out right. Let's take a look at the groups.

A - South Africa, France, Uruguay, Mexico
First off.. I spelled Uruguay correctly the first time. To be honest, I don't see South Africa making it out of this stage. Secondly, I think, with a bit of luck Uruguay could and will make it hard for Mexico and France.
At the end of the day - Mexico and France, no clear favorite (Allez Les Bleus)

B - Argies, Nigeria, Korea, Greece
I think this is pretty much done. Two of these squads have a good history of succeeding on the international level. The other two, I'm sorry to say, have been lucky in their runs. The only thing that could really put a damper on it, would be a finding the kryptonite that works on the Argies.
At the end of the day - Argies followed by Greeks

C - England, Estados Unidos, Algeria, Slovenia
Both England and the US have had a few players go down like zeppelins. I think one of the dark horses could come out of this group. It's hard to pick which one though, while not necessarily a group of death as everyone likes to use that stupid term. It's hard to see the two English speaking squads both moving on for me.
At the end of the day - England and someone else

D - Germany, Australia, Ghana, Serbs
This is probably one of the tougher ones. Germany is missing a key player but they should be safe, to say the least. Ghana is also missing a key player. The Serbs put up a good fight during the run up to the cup but from what I understand, the wind may be gone from their sails. Australia is, well, a bit cute isn't it. *pinches Australia's cheeks*
At the end of the day - Germany and either Ghana or Serbs as a dark horse

E - Netherlands, Denmark, Japan, Cameroon
Well with Van Der Sloot about to serve a sentence, oh wait, I mean Robben out of the Cup... well to be honest, it shouldn't have too much of a lasting effect. I have to say I'm pulling for Cameroon to do what they got to do, just so Eto'o can smile. He never smiles. Well maybe once he did.
At the end of the day - DUTCH and Cameroon

Coffee Break - Now why did I actually decide to do this, type all these things... I don't know.... By the way, does anyone know where to get a good espresso downtown. Caribou Coffee is horrendous and I don't want to go into Java Joes twice a day.

F - Italy, Paraguay, New Zealand, Slovakia
Do I really need to continue the exercise with this one? Honestly? It's all about who will come in second. Italy has the easiest draw since Simon picked up chalk and the pictures came to life. I see the cheaters burning bright for the group, the 16 and quarters but feel they will not make further than that. I wasn't really paying much attention to the other three in this training ground selection.
At the end of the day - Italia and reader's choice



G - Brasil, Other Korea, Cote d'Ivoire, Portugal
When I was a wee kitten, my mom had a thing for a certain man named Pele. I should ask my mom why she didn't just runaway and take me to Brasil. Damn her and being sensible. Of course I'd probably be running with the less than legal crowd if that did happen. Anyways, enough dreaming of beautiful Rio beaches, carnival and Ronaldhino, because none of those will be in South Africa. So I have a soft spot for Brasil, it's something that relates to my youth, as opposed to those who go to the local sports store and put on the colors because it's easily recognizable and acceptable in mainstream US of A. (le sigh) My second soft spot is Cote d'Ivoire. I think they will do well despite the loss of the Drogba. Portugal will be a non-threat as they do very poorly against their South American cousins and as long as Cote d'Ivoire don't allow them to play. The only thing I'm allowed to say about Other Korea is they will win, no matter the result. I only joke about these things. They will put up a good fight but don't have the passion or creativity to deal with the other three in their group.
At the end of the day - Brasil, Cote d'Ivoire or a surprise Portugal

H - Spain, Switzerland, Honduras, Chile
I know Spain is tapped as the favorite by all the media. I think they've been in that position before... many times before. I love Spanish football, don't get me wrong but they do have this thing about choking towards the very end of the tournament. I don't know whether it's an internal thing, the longing for paella and gazpacho or something else. I think Honduras is a tough team who should do well. Switzerland and Chile could go either way, but Honduras is going to be my dark horse out of this group.
At the end of the day - Spain and Honduras

Final Whistle - I figure since World Cup has now become so cliched I might as well keep it up in the blog, no? Like I said, and probably have said once or twice, the final is going to be one of the big boys, either from Europe or South America, your choice and some one unexpected. I don't see my beloved Les Bleus making it to the final and I am hoping Domenech.. never mind I was told not to ever wish ill on someone, no matter how inept they are.

Like Eto'o said, "The question we have all the time is whether an African team is able to win the World Cup. But the real question is whether the world is ready for an African team to become champions." (guardian)

It would be nice to see Cameroon or Cote d'Ivoire take it to the final. It will finally prove that Africa, as a continent has finally, without a doubt arrived. It has to be done with style and substance though. I see both of these teams having it, on their better days.

Serbia, might just be another surprise. If they can get back up to pace, they should at least make the 8 and possibly the 4. It would also be nice to see someone like Algeria, or Uruguay make it out of the 16 as well but that's really stretching a wish.

Since, I can't keep from typing these damned things, expect some more.

Ciao!
LeChat

Fulham at home...

YES! I know... I WAS NOT AT THE PUB!
The half a dozen text messages I also received let me know as well. It was mother's day! And I for one am grateful for my mother, cause if it wasn't for her I don't know if I'd be as big of a supporter of the beautiful game as I am today.

So, that's where I was, spending Sunday with my mom, my aunt and bits and pieces of the extended family. I have to mention, constantly getting score updates on the phone while attending Sunday morning services shows my level of addiction, er... dedication.

At one point, my mother looks at me and asks if someone keeps calling me. I just shook my head and said, End of season, we need a draw. My mom just nods, knowingly. That's the beauty of it.

Remember, this is the same woman who one day randomly decided to tell me Beckham is crap and why she thought he was crap.

End of Season Reflection
So, looking back at the season, what do I glean out of it. To be honest, nothing spectacular or unknown from the beginning of the season. I am still the same person, for better or worst, with a few less Warrior of God moments in the last 9 months.

The club, well they still need a decent keeper, a better/more consistent defensive mid, and a sturdy back 4 with the left and rights being fully capable overlapping the wings. Is that too much to ask for?

I keep hearing names being bandied about like bikini tops during spring break in Florida. They exist but until you actually see it being pulled off, it's a whole lot of nothing and wishful thinking. In short, I don't really care right now.

WORLD CUP 2010
I'm totally not sure what to do. Someone suggested that I do a preview on the groups but that seems like it would be major work. I think I might just enjoy and not worry too much about the blog until EPL starts back up.

I am still flirting with the idea of keeping it up during the cup but it does take a lot of effort for no compensation. However I need to say, I do it for love of the sport, the club, the pub, just to write at times.

The PUB
There is a bunch I could say, but I won't say much at all. The rumours of the sound and HD are to be fully realised prior to the WC2010 matches. That does not give them much time, let's hope they can get it done and get it done right.

Sheffield and WestBrom are to be wed, shortly prior to the start of WC2010. I hope to be able to party on the beaches of Italy alongside of them for that. I know a few of the regular crew will be there, so that should be a good time.

I believe our good friend Bayern is taking a trip back to the Middle East. He will surely be missed but I wish him safe travels. I know it's not his intention to return to this area but it would be nice if he did. Good luck good friend.

LilBlondieGooner is taking a bit of time to finish her studies and is Go(ing) West.

Everyone should at least recognize the tune, from various chants, especially the One Nil to the Arsenal.

Last and most of important of all, the loss of a great supporter is still deeply heartfelt. I don't know what to say without being cliche about the whole thing. It is great that our pub even extended a spot for us to put up the framed kit with Pretzel's name across the back. There was truly only one Nick Dauner and I think he may have had a hand in Chelski winning the league.

It also makes me remember a few years ago, a good Gooner mate of mine who also fell ill and passed away a bit too soon. There are things like that which always tugs at your heart.

We have all been united by this one thing, as MiniMourinho would say, it has nothing to do with geography, race, religion or background but the very love of a single sport. I may have it slightly off but the sentiment is there.

Here's to a good FA Cup, next week... a good World Cup, starting in June... a decent season for Crystal Palace-Baltimore!

~LeChat

Burnley at home

I have to admit, this weekend was the absolute bore when it came to football. I do not know what's going on, is it just me or am I just in need of more entertainment. I mean I can't always be this angry and unfulfilled? Can I?

Saturday

Wake me up when someone decides to actually play football. I figured catching the last bit of the first half of an FA cup tie would be exciting. PLEASE next time remind me to scratch my eyes out with rusty forks.

I guess the good thing is.. Pompey won.

Gooners did show up for the game. It was a nice handful of us for Burnley, but nothing to write home about. The game was lackluster and uneventful for a full 3 points. I wasn't too plussed about it but could have been more enthralled if a certain Muppet could hit the broad side of a barn from 6 yards away.

As I was saying, nothing exciting happened at all. We all gathered round, watch the match and that was it. The MancScum match was even more tedious, to say the least. After which, due to my lack of anything else better to do I sat with ACMilan and watched his match as well.

I will just say that the rest of my day consisted of me sitting in my room and playing video games. YES, that's right, it just ended up being underwhelming, football drove me to become a hermit.

Sunday

My day of being a hermit was now over and decided to give football another chance. I made my way to the pub to enjoy another fine spectacle of a day, Chelski FA cup match. There just did not seem to be much happening this weekend. I said it once and I'll say it over and over. NOTHING!

Of interesting note, I decided to vent my rage of nothingness on someone who had called the pub to ask some inane question that could have been answered had they just got off their fat asses and came down to the point and enjoyed the day. Why on God's greenest would you take the liberty and call a pub at noon and ask if they are open and what specials they have? Seriously? Are you brain dead?

The long and short is I gave my 2 cents but I wasn't the one who actually answered the phone, just venting my anger towards the person who called. If that makes any sense at all.

MiniMourhino looked at me and asked if Warrior of God mode was being reinstated. The only thing I could do was nod my head.

~LeChat

Stoke Away

Every Monday I seem to forget what happened on Saturday. This Monday being no exception. I won't tell you my secret on how I figure things out but somehow I do.

Saturday

The morning started out well enough. Earlier the previous evening, I believe, ManCity himself sent me a message concerning my allegiances for the days early game. I did not declare one but did let him know that the ball is round and he shouldn't worry too much of the result.

So Chelsea City it was. All nice and lined up for a proper little show. I will admit ChelskiBoys v. ManCity himself was going to make an entertaining breakfast treat.

I took a seat at one end of the bar, just to get a good view. To be honest, all I can remember is several chants about random things. ChelskiGirl looking particularly angry and about to glass ManCity himself. I believe MiniMourhino made a good day out of it either way. He had started the day out quite a bit bouncy and was well on his way shortly after.

Myself, well lately I have found my way into a more frilly drink, or so I've been told. Something happened to me after getting sick when it had snowed. I have not been able to drink more than one or two beers, so I've found solace in Cuba Libres. When I know it's going to be a specially long day, as Saturday was, sometimes... yes sometimes I do have a Malibu and Coke. However, some times has turned into quite often.

I think I was drinking Mount Gay and Coke, which by the way is a horrible rum to order. I almost whisper it under my breath, but when you have friends like Irish, everyone is going to know what you order.

Ah WHAT?.... Mount GAY!..... Do you want an umbrella with that?

Cheers mate, how's the world cup going for ya? OH, yah, that's right France won and we did not cheat. The ref did not blow the whistle. I do not control his whistle.

Alright, we did have a motley mob assembled for the proper match. A Certain Scouser and Pimms had shown up. I believe the Librarian, HalfArseDean, the Sheriff and Arse St. Nick rounded out the table. I may be a little foggy on this but somehow we got the Deputy to leave her beauty rest and join us as well. I think she was promised lunch and ended up with cottage chips.

All I can say is that a political conversation was started. I was told I was preaching to the choir. A Certain Scouser said that she wanted to be the Angry Black Man and somehow I became the Suburban White Chick. There was a half ton of laughter for a few hours on that one.

In character, I offered to make out the Angry Black Man but I couldn't date because my parents would kill me. Then I asked if Angry Black Man could get me a drink. To which the retort was something along the lines of "No Bitch! Get ME a drink!"

Yes, that's right, we went there several times. However, all our revelry was stopped short by a freight train of a tackle by the hand of Mr. Shawcross. I am not going to go into the whole STICK A BOOT IN ON ARSENAL rant. That was saved for Sunday but it was a horror show tackle.

Saturday Night

Clash Tribute at the Sidebar. I will say one thing. What a great show by my little band. It shaped up to be a great day. LilBlondieGooner and NightCaller showed up and had a good time, from what I understand. OH by the way, NightCaller needs a new nickname, as in he has reformed his ways but I need to think of one. Personally, I love his nickname but I did promise to give it a new look.

Anyways, funny thing happened to me at the show. I was sitting in a corner after getting off stage, talking to LilBlondieGooner, NightCaller and friends. This young girl comes up to us and starts to ask someone, thinking it was ScouseDrummer, some questions.

I noticed they were actually about me but I was in post-stage haze. She then started asking about me playing in some band I had never heard of and I guess tried to have a conversation with me. I guess I just wasn't grabbing a clue. After she leaves, LilBlondieGooner pushes me and tells me I have a groupie and should go after her.

I just shrug and say to her, Well she needs to try harder.

I thought it was funny. That's all that matters. Kind of like my other quote of the day.
I'm golden in the box but can't always finish.

I really just need to make a book of quotes. There is always the classic.
My god is a vengeful god and I'm warrior of god. I will chop your fucking head off!

Despite my lack of perception, this girl did try hard. There were some great bands and I did a lot of dancing, fueled by Captain Morgan Spiced Rum. Every time I turned around, she was beside me. ScouseDrummer even pushed me into her at one point in time. I was still on my she needs to try harder soapbox.

I will admit, it was a cute little gesture from a cute little girl. It didn't get creepy or anything and maybe I will be nicer the next time. Otherwise, my weekends are for being a complete cunt to all but my closest. Hell, I can even a bit of a twat to them as well but it's born out of pure love.

Sunday

I could be found, at the same approximate table, with the same approximate people, TWENTY FOUR FUCKING HOURS later. I have to admit, another good time watching the Scousers play. ScouseDrummer, his dad and sis showed up and joined the rowdy bunch on the couches.

MancScum were told to fuck off upstairs for the Milk Cup. I did go up and give some abuse but man it was way too depressing up there. I swear, the Scousers were lively, the game was lively and the atmosphere was a bit more than fun.

Mancs... well it was mighty grim upstairs. Their game was worst than watching paint dry on a humid mid-Atlantic day. The Villa fans were smart and stayed downstairs in the Arsenal section watching the game.

Notes of interest: I had an interesting conversation with one of the bistro boys who was there with his woman. We were just comparing the two places but understood where each other were coming from. I reiterated the story about running into the BigBistroBoy during the Canada-Russia (olympic hockey) match and how he re-introduced himself. I had shook his hand and told him I knew exactly who he was. I don't know if it came off the exact way that it had in my mind but it does make me wonder if you supposedly dislike a place so much, why do you keep showing your face in it?

I don't go and shit on the counter of your Bistro but you say all kinds of shit out of your mouth about how bad people are treated in my pub. If you don't like it, don't come here. Plain and fucking simple. Now I am not trying to start an Us v. Them type of scenario but as I explained to the bistro boys, there is nothing for me at that place. My mates who support other sides, some of whom I've been watching football with for like 7 or 8 years, plus or minus, wouldn't be welcomed there and couldn't watch FuckOff United v. SheepShagger FC at 7 AM for the Godknowswhat Cup.

That's my piece on it. My pub is a football pub, the long and short of it. As a football supporter, I will support my pub until it stops supporting me. At that time, maybe I will look for a new ground. There is still a thing called loyalty, especially when no one else in this fucking city would keep football on the television at any hour of the fucking day from 7AM to 2AM.

Prime example, the pub is showing Hockey in the evenings now. Sunday, OLYMPIC GOLD, CANADA v. USA (I do fly the Quebec flag). ACMilan comes in to watch his game. Do you know what happened? ACMilan got his game on a corner television! ONE lonely fucking ACMilan in a pub filled to the brim with Olympic Hockey fans.

Respect. Football.

oh and the puma Hard chorus....


~LeChat

OH subnote... before I forget.
Crystal Palace supporters group the 35ers are getting a good deal on season tickets. These are good games to go to and something fun to do, especially after WC2010 is done. The 35ers put other supporters to shame. In short, Let me know if you want the Crystal Palace US tickets, plus a free Crystal Palace scarf and a chance to win a trip to LONDON to see Palace at home.

Chelsea Away

Ah, once again stuck in the homestead because of another weekending snowstorm. I'll just keep it short, not to bore you with the details of my ordeals. Thank goodness for the ample supply of food, rum and cola that resides in my home.



Saturday started out as a white wash. I watched the Scousers play on ESPN while trying not to fall asleep. It wasn't the game, just me hibernating as much. Most of my day was filled looking for free movies on the internet and playing video games.

A few of the crew either gave a call or sent a text. Nothing too exciting. Of course, I decided it was better to sip on Brugal most of the day anyways. I had a cold, well the remnants of a cold from earlier in the week and was not feeling much for shoveling either.

As for Sunday, it ended up being much of the same. I started out the morning with a small bit of shoveling around the car, just so I could at least start it. For some reason, I didn't think about parking at the end of the 40 foot driveway, even if it would block in the neighbors.



I guess that is the bad thing about a shared drive, but it was eventually shoveled. After the debacle of Chelsea Arsenal. I had ArsenalTV to thank for broadcasting the audio. ACMilan also gave a call to give me a few updates. He had made the drive up from DC but he also didn't have a 40 foot drive to help with shoveling out.

I knew it was a lost cause and am kind of glad to be snowed in. Depression is so much better when you are alone. The only thing to hope is that the Arsenal will pull it through the rest of the season.

Now to look forward to the next big snow. A few more inches on Wednesday just to kick a supporter while he's down.

~LeChat

Villa Away Mid-week

SAD SAD SAD day it shall be. I am not one to complain but so much, so I won't. Where was I? I was sitting at my desk, at work, being annoyed by an annoying person who doesn't understand the meaning of the words/phrases: patience, free service and no guarantee. Yes, I do have issues with self-entitled stupidity.

Another mid-week and I was stuck working. I should be used to that by now, you'd think. I also forgot to turn on the score notifier application on my phone. Yes, that's right, I was so annoyed I forgot that an important game of football was being played. Right now all games for the Arsenal are important. As it looks now, I might even be missing the match on Sunday, at least the second half of it, which is probably when all the action will be. DAMN my cluttered schedule!

Let me tell you how out of touch with football I was. A Certain Scouser had sent me a couple texts but my mobile was not vibrating enough for me to notice. In order they read.

-Fucking Red Devil scum
-TEVEZ!
-Holy shit. rooney fuuuuuuuck

I will admit, yes I will admit. I totally forgot Mancscum and ManShitty were playing for the Carling. I was dumbfounded after reading the series of messages. It was only the last one.

Scum in the 91st

That clued me into what I was missing. Then I was still trying to cobble together that proper Scum was not playing or were they, can't keep up with them and that the Scousers were not playing MancScum. I kid you not, it took me a whole 5 minutes to put it all together. My mind is complete mush.

When I finally made it home and got a good look at the Guardian, I realized that calling out sick may have been a good option. I am saving those up for world cup though. I might have to pull a couple extra hours at the office for that.

The Crow caught me on FB with an inquiry over the RIOoooOOoo issue. I'll just put it out there, so there is no misunderstanding. The man was good, probably one of the better Centerbacks for England in a long long time. Trust me, he gave the Arsenal some headaches as well. However, since this last set of injuries he hasn't been the same. Honestly, will he return to the England squad, maybe, but will he be the same man he was 4 years ago or even 2 years ago. Nah, not at all I am afraid. I think the star has faded on this one, supernova and out, in my opinion.

Does the penalty and ban surprise me? Not at all on that account either. Rio is a great player. A great player has a fire in them to keep playing, it's their life's blood. He is probably more than frustrated that he's half the player that he used to be and unfortunately has taken it out on a colleague. It happens.

OH and the Bellamy incident. I actually feel a bit bad for him, cause it must have hurt but part of me giggled seeing the photo of him laid on the ground. I never wish harm on anyone but sometimes it is funny. Seriously though, people need to stop throwing crap and trying to hurt the players. If you want a bit of the violence go join a firm and knock the shit out of like minded individuals. That's your thing, don't invite the uninitiated into it, don't invite the players into it.

PLAIN AND FUCKING SIMPLE, NO?

I mean if you are in a bar/pub, where ever and player x comes up to you and tries and make you change the television/radio station/jukebox, grabs on your girl, knocks over your drink and/or various other obnoxious things that players have been known to do... Then by all means give him one or two, he deserves it but not while they are on the field, playing the game. That's just crass. I don't care where you are from and I'm glad that someone is facing charges for it.

If you haven't checked out CNN lately, they do have a good section on football and the world cup, some interesting stuff but a lot of fluff as well. Good old CNN, proper journalism for the world. (yes that is written sarcasm)

Also, you all who comment on FB can feel free to comment here, as I know there are some who are reading this that I am not friends with on FB and I am sure they would love to enjoy the witty convos that we all have. Try and use your nick, if you do comment unless you don't want to protect your identity. I don't care, just don't blame me when your boss googles your ass.

Well I am off the grid this weekend. Enjoy yourselves.

~LeChat

Stoke Away (FA Cup)

Greetings.

Well we all know of the unceremonious exit of the Arsenal from the FACup this weekend by the hands of a very capable Stoke. I can't be ashamed of the loss because it was a hard fought battle of which the scoreline belies.

The pub, however, was full of some interesting happenings this weekend.

Saturday

I entered the pub around 8 or so to be greeted by the smiling Reading fan. There were quite a few of the Chelsea lads in attendance as well. There was a good footballing vibe going on. I took my seat next to Reading and we started discussing the finer points of the match.

ChelskiGirl was stuck in her bed, being lazy. I called her and informed all the lads of such. There were many volunteers who wished to join her but she left her cocoon and joined the rest of us shortly by the half.

Reading and I decided that we were only cheering on underdogs for the rest of the day. We were transfixed to the Accrington Stanley - Fulham match, just because it was more interesting than the Everton - Birmingham tie that was also being shown.

My original plan was to take my leave prior to the end of the match but Leeds was taking on Scum. They had already eliminated MancScum so let's see if they could do the proper Scum.

The pub was still full, much fuller than it had been in the most recent weekends. I was half done with what seemed to be bottomless pints of New Castle, as was Reading. Sheffield and WestBrom pop by and it just continued.

The four of us caught up and chatted, killing time before the Haiti fundraiser. I am still trying to remember if that was even a good idea. All I can say, is some money left my pocket and ended up in the hands of some Scousers.

The event was not at the pub so we did enter some foreign territory. And as followers of the English game, we did what we knew best... found a dart board. The setup was close to the kitchen so the food runners had to keep cutting through. Which at first wasn't that bad but as the night creeped on.

BC/BC bounced up the stairs in the middle of our darts game and I think we all tried to explain it to her but it wasn't working. They also had a Wii, which someone had the brilliant idea of quickly finishing darts and starting Wii-Bowling.

I sat out of that, as I am not biggest fan of bowling to begin with. I believe WestBrom came from behind and beat everyone. It was an enjoyable time. However, like all good things, it had to come to an end.

A Certain Scouser would not believe I was fine. I kept telling her I was just tired, so on the way home I ended up with about 10 text. It would have probably been smarter not to answer all of them but I did.

Safe and sound I found my bed, after about a 12 hour bender, where I believe I ended up more sober by the time I made it home than I started out the day.

SUNDAY

It was to be a short morning, whether or not the result of the match should be considered. My band had to move it's practice space and time, which Sunday afternoon was the final result.

It mattered much not anyway. The Arsenal crew was cynical from the drop of the ball. I think we all had a sneaking suspicion of what type of day it was going to be after the first goal. I have to admit, we are quite a hilarious group even in the midst of a loss. It's been quite some time since we've even sneezed on a trophy, I suppose.

There was a positive side to this all. LittleWill was on his last day before heading back to school. He's a pretty funny kid. We spent a good half hour teasing LittleSister before I had to take my leave.

I guess in summation it was not a bad weekend but not quite a good one. A win would have been nice but now The Arsenal boys can concentrate on the league, which is much more important in my opinion.

The other thing that made the weekend much more pleasurable was being able to spend it with the good folks I have grown to be as close to as members of a large family. There is something unique and special about this football crowd. It may seem insular and strange to an outsider but some of the most generous and open people that I have ever come to know stand beside me on a weekend morning at 8 am swearing at a referee 2000 miles away.

I would not care to be with anyone else but my extended crew.

~LeChat

Bolton Away (MLK, Jr. Day)

I swore that today, in celebration of Martin Luther King, Jr. Day in the United States I would actually be nice, for once. That means, no sideways comments about how much I despise certain squads and their cretinous ways. No comments on how a certain someone shags their mum up the shitter. No comments on why having a crap load of money does not make one a big club. Yes that's right, no comments as of such, so as you can imagine this will probably be a short blog.

Saturday

It started off as a nice enough day. The weather was a tad above freezing and there was some football on the telly at the pub. I was surrounded by some of my best mates, so who could ask for anything more.

The top two dispatched their adversaries with not much between them. Even though I would hate to admit it, the Chelsea contest was something to behold. The onslaught of goals that were obtained versus Sunderland was, in short keen. I will even concede the point that the young Mr. Ashley Cole, former Arsenal man and supporter, who left for a small sum to the Blues a few seasons ago, had a cracker of a goal. Whilst I do harbor ill feelings for the lad, they are best not expressed under the circumstances.

The public house had the usual crowd of well-doers as well. There was a great banter going betwixt the Liverpool lads and lasses with the Chelsea boys. After which a few of the Manchester supporters appeared. They are short in number in these waning days of the once great Manchester United team who has won a great many trophies in years past. I do hope their form does not slip too bad. I do not know what the Premiership would be like without their constant challenge to keep the Gunners on their toes.

In a more somber yet still celebratory fashion, the kit with Mr. Dauner's name and number went up in the pub this day as well. I was able to capture a simple photograph with a very nice reflection in it. I present such image to you.

There's only one Nick Dauner...

SUNDAY

I made my way to the public house a tad bit early, as I was getting calls from ACMilan and BC/BC. They wanted me to enjoy the privilege of observing, as the Italians call it, Calcio. Now I will say, calcio is very similar to the game of proper association football that we have call come to enjoy, however there are some more or less very specific differences of which I do not have much time to entertain at this precise moment. I will say the Brazilian was a joy to watch as he found his stride in a match against a very defensive minded opponent.

It was time to head down to the pub's main floor for the proper entertainment of the mighty Arsenal taking on the football club of Bolton. Sunday, as was Saturday, had the usual milieu of punters who had arrived for the match. All in good spirits with jovial mocking all about. In short it was a good time.

I will say, lilblondiegooner is no longer blond but now an intriguing shade of brunette. It does suit her well and we all acknowledged it. I do not believe there is a style the young woman could not wear and look more than presentable.

After the match I headed home for some much needed rest. These weekends do become quite long, to say the least. It is as I have a second job, just keeping up with all the goings on and excitement that there is to partake in. I enjoy it, to be honest.

Later on Sunday evening, I received a surprising call on my mobile. It was from Sheffield who had been gone for quite some time. He had arrived back to the colonies in one piece. I met up with him and his betrothed at the public house and had a grand conversation of the month and fortnight they had been away.

It was a good evening. Now, as I said earlier, I must be off. I do wish for all those reading my words to at least consider the disaster that has struck the western side of the Isle of Hispaniola and the Haitian peoples. There is a lovely shirt that can be found here, in which all the proceeds go towards the relief effort.

Also, in celebration of the legacy of the late Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., I would like to mention, once again, Show Racism the Red Card, as it combines the efforts of creating racial and ethnic harmony amongst people and preserves the quality of the beautiful game.

Your peaceful author,

LeChat

Everton at Home

Londontown is very cold.

I believe those are the lyrics to some song or another. I actually know which song but I can't be bothered in telling you at this moment simply because.

Anyways, as the big freeze is happening across merry old Enger-land and parts of the continent, many games have been postponed. There is this whole thing about fixture congestion that starts to become more and more an issue around this time of the year and the weather is currently not helping.

Meanwhile, across the pond, in a little pub on Thames Street was seated your faithful author. Why? Because he has fuck all to do on a Saturday morning except wait for some damn football to be played.

I hadn't realized the damage the snow and ice had wrought upon the isles, when I had left my house for the pub, nor did I really care. I was hungry. I believe the breakfast is the reason I am getting a little bit more pudge as of late.

I sat down with a few others who had not checked the over-seas weather reports and chatted for a bit. A few of us were checking out various websites to see which games were actually going to be played.

Conclusion. A whole 2. Arsenal v. Everton and Birmingham v. MancScum.

Let's just say, had I known the Everton game was going to be such, I would have just stayed home. The only thing that made it interesting was NightCaller was in a rage and ManCity himself was playing the comedian and talking about perfumes at one point in time.

Grant Wahl did make an appearance. We spoke for a bit on the Togo tragedy and security in South Africa. He had an interesting story about Landon Donovan being put up in an airport Marriott in Manchester and not the good one, mind you. It is always nice to get a little personal insight into how the players are living life without it being all tabloid fodder.

Now the Arsenal Everton tie was at least tolerable for the last 10 minutes but the sleep inducing Birmingham United match, well let's just say if I had a gun I would have put it to my head and wished for the chamber with the bullet.

To be honest, at least it was proper football and I am sure the weather had a bit to do with not only the pace of the games but the stand offish nature of the whole thing. There were a few "injuries" that probably were more superficial, just because of the weather.

Also, I can say, at least I had the enjoyment of the pub crew to keep me entertained. There is nothing more entertaining then a bunch of supporters, slightly tipsy at 10AM and bored. The amount of crap that comes out of one's mouth would make a catholic priest blush. I hope that's the right analogy, I'm reaching here.

Needless to say, Sunday was not happening.

All Games Postponed.

I did head to the pub and ventured up to the 3rd floor where brownchicken/browncow was working. I thought I'd take in a bit of the throwball and have a few rum drinks whilst keeping her company. FancyPants manager came up and put the Milan game on the closest television. ACMilan appeared shortly after with his drink in hand.

He had never been up to the third floor and was shocked at the view. I will admit that it is probably one of the nicer views down the point. The only problem with the third floor is that it becomes the epicenter of pure douchebaggery in the summer and is not much fun for anyone with more than two brain cells.

The three of us, after BC/BC shift was finished, waited with her to get her cellphone that had been "found" by someone else the night before. We then headed over to another spot and had a couple of more drinks while listening to one of the funniest musicians that I have had the pleasure to meet. Well it was an unintentional funny, not like a comedy routine just him being himself.

So all in all, not too bad. Throwball team is in the playoffs I believe. Premiership remains where it was before the weekend began and fucking Patrick Viera signed for ManShitty... wait, what? Oh it's looks like he's injured. Sorry guys.

~LeChat

West Ham away (FA Cup) and the New Year.

A New Year and a new blog post!

Thursday (New Year's Eve)

My plans, well there were none technically. I never make concrete plans but I think we all know that. My New Year's usually ends up with me going to the pub and hanging around to watch the fireworks across the harbor.

However, I was blindsided, waylaid, mugged by the most annoying cold that I have ever been on the receiving end of. I woke up and decided it was going to be a thera-flu morning. Which I do highly recommend for all your cold/flu needs.

Now only if I could figure out a way to get paid for my name dropping.

I was finally able to rouse myself from tomb of blankets, as it has been Frostbite Falls cold lately. I am waiting for Boris and Natasha to come ask me if I have seen moose and squirrel. These are the times I miss the husky.

So I kept my profile low and celebrated the New Year with my band mates at the guitarist's home. Quiet, mellow and breaking it down to some good old Michael before he became a shadow of his former self.

Friday (New Year's Day)

Equally quiet. There was nothing happening on the football front. I decided to go join T-Bone at the bar across the way and watch some good old American College Football.

I wasn't good luck for his home team this time. ScouseGrubs came by as well. I think I waited half an hour for some breadsticks but they were worth it. I need to remember when going into foreign territory to order before I think I need to order. There's nothing like a slow ass kitchen.

I headed to band practice after the game. I find out at practice the band that was scheduled first for Saturday canceled out. Between myself and ScouseDrummer, we were scrambling to find a replacement.

Thank goodness for a couple of comedian friends, who just happen to be 35ers (Crystal Palace USA supporters).

Saturday

FA Cup Third Round. I do not know of a more interesting competition besides the FA Cup. It pits the minnows of the lower leagues against some of the big boys. It separates those who have heart from those who are just going through the motions. It is the great equalizer and my this weekend no exception.

Third Round, of course, is when the Premiership squads start playing. This is when you get to see sides like Torquay taking on Everton and the like. Well this year I believe Torquay played Brighton Hove Albion but it could have been Everton on any other day.

So Saturday brings us the glory of mighty Reading taking on the minnows, now known as Liverpool. It was really a lopsided draw in my opinion, now I didn't discount the Scousers but This. Is. READING! It was good to see Vinny out for a bit, plus he had a beautiful winterized Reading team anorak to fight off the cold and protect his wallet.

Let's just say it was a just score line and leave it at that.

Saturday Night (Station Debut)

WELL first of all I would like to thank all my football friends that braved the sub-zero temps and joined me at the Sidebar. It was really wonderful to see all of you out there. Seriously thank you from the bottom of my heart and I do hope you all enjoyed the show.

For those that missed, let's just say it was a good debut. From what I hear, many enjoyed it. GrumpyGooner was even impressed, which is a huge compliment coming from him.

I was getting stick all night from ScouseDrummer for wearing my Arsenal top, since we both promised not to wear kits on stage. I promised that I wouldn't and I had my Who the Fuck are Man United, shirt on underneath, complements of BayernMunich.

When we hopped on the stage, I pulled off my kit as promised. ScouseDrummer on cue started singing very quietly, Who the Fuck are Man United, which made me start in on full chorus.

The singer thrusts the mic in my face, cause I had half forgotten about the mic on stage for me and I was still in the midst of strapping my bass on. All I can say is that I was ready to go now. From the crowd came a shout from the Sherrif to shut the fuck up or something of that sort.

Like I said, it was a good show.

Sunday more FA Cup

I had left out early Saturday evening/Sunday morning after the show. I am not really a hang out person unless there is some football on the television. Plus I had still been feeling rather under the weather from the New Year's cold that was bogging me down.

I woke up four hours later and found myself at the pub staring at an HD feed of MancScum discussing the previous night with HalfArseDean. Must I say, this was a very nice Sunday treat. Leeds, which I am not a big fan of either, taking it to those gits. It was a thoroughly impressive showing and to watch old Fergie's head explode was an even better treat.

I spent the better half of the match chatting with HalfArseDean and trying to help LittleSister do a crossword. ChelskiGirl came in and joined us a bit later as well, let's just say all had a bit of a laugh at the Manc's expense.

My thing is, I want to see some of the CCTV feeds from the streets of Manchester. I know there had to be some running battles. Come on, Leeds v United, classic.

So the real match's time was upon us. Some of the usual suspects strolled in at their leisure. GrumpyGooner, quite a bit better than the last weekend. LilBlondieGooner still with her arm in a sling. So like I said, nothing unusual.

To my surprise though, Jazz pops in, without a jacket, walks over to the bar and orders a Stella from Irish. What is this, a New Year's miracle? GrumpyGooner and I get a few jibes in about Leeds on him, as we all settled in for a heart stopping match.

All I am going to say is that the Arsenal were very lucky to come out of this. They really need to do themselves a little better in the favor department. I know someone might nail me on my subject verb agreements above but it's my blog and I can be ungrammatical if I want to.

Monday the unexpected.

First day back to work. That's not what was interesting.

What was interesting is that I got a message from one of Pretzel's armed forces mates. He was looking him up and stumbled across the blog. He was unaware of what had happened and contacted me to get some details. It made me feel good to give him what I knew and that somewhere a interweb spider has linked me to one of the nicest and coolest people that I have had the pleasure of meeting and then giving me a way to share that information with others.

It also made me think about how temporal everything is in this world. I don't mean to sound cliche but sometimes you must seize the moment without regrets.

Live your life as you will not have any other.

or in my usual tongue...

TAKE THE FUCKING SHOT! BLOODY FUCKING HELL!

~LeChat

Portsmouth Away (New Years Eve)

Alright, alright.

First of all I want to wish everyone a Happy New Year. I hope all your celebrations went well and you are looking forward to the fun of the weekend. My celebrations will be tame by virtue of falling ill once again with a cold. Figures, the last day of the year, I spend half of it in bed. However, the second half is proving to be more of the usual show.

(I believe it was the shot of Brugal in the tea.)

Quick reminder, for those who are coming. Station (my band) is playing the Sidebar on the 2nd. I hope that you all can make it out, but if not, so be it.

So Portsmouth, a team I actually feel kind of bad for, is having tons of issues both on and off the pitch. I hope they can get it together. Here is to wishing Pompey a better new year and to a great escape out of relegation.

I remember, fondly, Leeds dropping... dropping... dropping and I really didn't care too much. They, well didn't deserve to drop, but I had no real feelings for it either way. Portsmouth on the other hand I have a soft spot for.

Play up Pompey. Play up!

So shall I do a quick look back? Well not really, nothing exciting is happening. I started this blog on a whim, well a well thought out whim. I felt like there were stories from a supporter's perspective that needed to be told. We all hear about this player and that, this coach and that, but we seem to forget about what makes the teams keep going.

They cynic in me would say, the all mighty pound, dollar, euro or what have you. In essence though, the bare bottom of it, is heart. Now I sound like one of the Cantona Joga Bonito adverts.



The fact of the matter is, if there wasn't this heart, passion or rabid spirit for these teams/leagues. There would be no teams/leagues. For comparison, while the MLS is still a toddler there is not as much support, even in comparison to say Coca Cola division 2. Better yet, let's talk about the defunct NASL.

The NASL had names with star power, even changed some of the rules to accommodate the masses, however it did not enjoy the same support as some of the European and South American leagues and teams. It's this support, the cogs in the wheel that keep things going.

The only time you hear about supporters of proper football, it is usually in the light of "hooliganism" reported by some short-sighted journo who needs a story before their deadline. While I'm not against like minded individuals stomping the shit out of each other on a Saturday afternoon. I am against the over-simplification and denegration of the wide range of supporters that do exist.

This is why I do this blog. Hopefully someone will stumble across it and it will open their eyes and they will go "Hey, this doesn't seem all that bad Martha." They will come to understand that because someone puts on a kit and scarf and sings mildly offensive songs at the top of their lungs at 9 AM on a Saturday morning, that they are not bad people or even miscreants or soccer hooligans, as a woman put it to me a few seasons ago.

Well here's to a new decade and hopefully an excellent finish to an already surprising EPL season. I hope to see those that are near soon and those that are far, some time later.

Bonne Annee

~LeChat

Villa at Home (and other holiday stuff.. so it is long)

Alright, here we go. I was debating on whether I should start this from mid-week or not. I decided, probably against my better intuition, why not... funny things did happen. So grab a cup of tea and some warm slippers.

Christmas Eve-Eve

The night prior my old indoor friends were looking for people to fill in for their match at local indoor arena. I had nothing better to do so figured I would make an appearance and run around a bit. I jotted out a quick, "I'll be there," and that was done.

After work, I decided it would be best for me not to travel all the way to the homestead and go have some food and drinks at one of the fine establishments between the arena and work. I made some calls and met up with ChelskiGirl for a couple. She was filling me in on her trip, since I hadn't heard anything from her since she had returned.

Somewhere along the second cocktail or so, a bright idea came across to go see this Polish Christmas Carole Parade. We met up with a couple of her friends and ended up amongst a mob of Polish/Semi-Polish or whatever. There was a truck pulling a guy with an accordian, a drummer with a full drum set and a couple of horn players.

I mean it had to have been well over 100 people all massed on Broadway singing Jingle Bells. When we got up there with the santa hat wearing friends, it was just in time for the critical mass to begin its movement.

Things to note: Christmas Eve Eve was bloody cold, well bloody cold to be walking around and caroling. I just wanted a beer. Apparently, there are other people who really like this sort of thing. Correction: A shit ton of people who like said thing.

That's me hiding my face with one of the Santa Hat wearing friends.

Well after following the procession around for five more minutes, ChelskiGirl and I ducked out to her other place of employment to imbibe in some Chocolate Stouts. It was just the thing needed for a cold winter night.

My infinite wisdom, having about 3 of these Stouts, was in a mood to go play some football. I was tip top as they say. I make it to the arena and play had already started. I changed into the old uniform, felt good, made my way to the floor and hopped on as a sub. Less than 1 minute on, the other team wanted me to change, for kit clashing. The ref was even a little confused and whispered a comment as such.

Being the uniformly anal person I am about my kits, I put on the other black one, without the white fade and all was good. There's not much to mention of the game. I stumbled around for a bit, shoved a couple of people but didn't gain any cards.

I was having a good time though, so I hope I can fill in some other time. My ankle didn't even bother me, which is always double plus good. Now if I could only get the defense to pump the ball forward to me, then maybe I could have one of my little cheeky goals that I like.

On the way home, in my mind... I started calling randomly selected people from my phone. I still don't know why. A Certain Scouser was the unlucky one who answered. We talked for a bit, apparently she was in Buffalo robbing houses or something. That's all I can really remember her saying and something about not driving crazy, still unsure on that last part.

Actual Christmas Eve

The day started out nice. I was surprised that my ankle wasn't giving it to me, which had me overjoyed. That evening, some of us were getting together for a Christmas Eve dinner. I was bringing the eggnog or so it had been decided over Chocolate Stouts the night before or somewhere along the line.

I will point out two cool things, besides giving ChelskiGirl her BFF mug, which was more embarrassing to buy than anything else. A big giant pink mug for my BFF, I know the girl at the register was thinking I had some issues. Well I did get this great Madness tea towel. I need to figure out where to put it, but that's the first cool thing.

Second cool thing was Birmingwho coming in late, a bit well for the wear. He offered some vodka that he had but there was less than a quarter of the bottle left. He was in rare form and kept saying "Arsenal are going to lose to Villa, you know that right." He must have repeated it like 5 times before knocking over several glasses of water and then passing out on the couch.

Christmas Day

Two words: BRUGAL RUM!

My Real (facist) loving cousin's wife had me in the family Christmas exchange. We cracked it open and had cuba libre's all afternoon. Beauty, eh?

Boxing Day!!! (St. Stephen's Day)

This has seriously become my favorite holiday, especially over the most recent years since you can get so many games on the satellite now. It's footballing heaven. Well, the Arsenal weren't playing til Sunday, due to whatever genius who created the schedule. However, the day did hold some nice points dropping surprises and a Scouser win. You don't see too many of those lately.

I just realized my speakers have gone to shit on my desktop. It took an Untouchables song to realize it. Hmm, surround sound here I come.



Boxing day had a weird non-influx of people. HalfArseDean pointed it out but I hadn't noticed. It was a significantly smaller crowd than in the past. Maybe the weather, maybe people traveling cause of the weekend being long but it still had an energy about it in my opinion.

I LOVE BOXING DAY!

St. John the Apostle's Day (otherwise known as the day after Boxing Day)

Did I ever tell you I love the Saint's calendar? It's a very interesting hodge podge of people who have been beatified. Now don't think I'm some over zealous religious nut but I do find the subject interesting to say the least. I blame it on Art History, you can't escape the subject.

The Arsenal were playing early, so as normal I did not go out late the night before. I make it into the pub to be greeted by an overly jovial GrumpyGooner. Well with a very loud, "Yah fahkin Cunt!"

His excuse is that he had been up all night, enjoying the life and got zero sleep. I do feel bad that his girl had to wake him up and drag his big ass down to the pub. GrumpyGooner was in rare form, even tried picking a fight with a 4 year old, who probably could have taken him in his state. The 4 year old was non-plussed to say the least. His mum is a Gooner, so she made sure GrumpyGooner didn't get the bottle to the head.

Well the pub Gooners are starting to have some injury woes as well, LilBlondieGooner broke her clavicle or something. She's in a brace, but seriously, don't help her cut her French Toast. She was about to stab NightCaller.

HalfArseDean wound her up a little bit as well. I thought she was going to have him. I thought they gave you pain medication to sedate you. I mean she's small and all, would figure she'd be half knocked out.

Bayern gave me a nice shirt. I felt kind of bad, cause as usual I was present-less. I just wanted to give a big hearty thanks mate and seriously...

Who the Fuck Are MAN UNITED?

I am going to give it to Hull, making them bastards work for their points. I just wanted them to drop two. I hadn't counted on a Hull win but it would have been nice. It would have been nice. It would have been nice. MancScum!

Oh and for those that read this and like American Football.

FUCK PITTSBURGH! FUCKING SCUM!

MONDAY (Sorry I am not looking up the Saint)

OK, I know it's not the day after but this is comedy gold, and I quote, The Guardian of course,...

Roberto Mancini, the new Manchester City manager, predicted his side could catch Chelsea at the top of the Premier League after their 3-0 defeat of Wolverhampton Wanderers maintained his immaculate start as Mark Hughes's replacement.

DUDE, you beat Wolves! Calm down. Calm Down.

Ciao
~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

Wooooooolves (Away)

I can not say there is much joy happening right now. I am in nervous anticipation for the next weekend. WC2010 qualifiers, France-Ireland. I am usually not too nervous about such affairs but it began preoccupying my mind late Sunday after getting off the phone with ACMilan.

It is funny how a wonderful weekend can turn into a "wonder what the hell next weekend will bring", in a matter of moments. So, does Ireland make me nervous? Yes, I just said that. I wish I really could put my finger on why without resorting to my old stand by of,

Domenech can not be trusted with the national team and he must have some naked pictures of someone in the FFF to have had this job for so long because he has really fucked it up royally on more than one occasion.

SATURDAY

It started off alright... down the pub... have some pints, so to speak. ManCity himself was center stage prior to me getting there. For some reason or another, he kept insisting I looked like Shawn Wright-Phillips. I think I am buying him a pair from Lenscrafters for Christmas.

A couple of the part-time bistro boys came in and were going to take him over to the Bistro for the Arsenal game. They had plans to meet up with someone there, so I forgave them, this time. I also thought it would be hilarious for ManCity and his usually vocal self to be surrounded by a bunch of Gooners (at least they call themselves that) watching the Arsenal play.

I hope to run into him soon to find out how it all went. He was saying he didn't have any issues with going over there and being himself, as the bistro Gooners are a little soft. Everyone nodded in agreement.

The three headed off about the time HalfArseDean came in. It was good to see him as he had not been around for some time. ChelskiGirl showed up shortly after kick off, followed by MiniMourhino after the half. The crowd in general was a little thin but that is to be expected for late games.

Somehow a conversation was started about opening up a Relegation pub. It would be for those who are in the bottom 4 or Championship. No big teams, only BIG games. It would be a neat idea and give people like Sheffield and our local Geordies a place to watch their matches without jockeying for position against the likes of Scousers and Mancs.

After the game, I somehow found myself at the barnextdoor with ChelskiGirl and Jonfromnextdoor. The rest of the day was a bit blurry after that, with the exception of me getting nachos at Friends and running into a kid I hadn't seen in like 12 years.

SUNDAY

I expected this day to be more fun and excitement than what it was. I popped down to the pub a bit early, as I was bored and there was nothing else better to do. ACMilan was there, so we decided to grab a bite to eat and watch his game in the back section, as someone found the vapid Hull Stoke tie to be more entertaining.

I will admit, I am usually not a big fan of Italian football but it was a fairly interesting match. You had your choice between Milan and Lazio. I would have rather eaten a dog bone but choose to at least show a little support to ACMilan and not the facist. Which brings up the question of how can you tell which team is more facist in Italy? I know there is a joke in there somewhere.

Pasta, Spaghetti, Rigatoni. Don't talk about my mama's Lasagna!
That is ACMilan's joke, not mine, so no one come after me with the concrete shoes.

We sat in the back for the United Chelsea tie. We were joined by various others at various times, some just to say hello and some to stay for a while and join in our random commentary on the state of the match. We were like the two grumpy guys on the muppet show.

It was nice to see one of my original Manc friends there, but he disappeared before the end of the match. He tends to get a little riled up when Mancs or England are losing. One time I had to throw him in the back of my car and take him cross town so he didn't throw any more bottles at anyone. Funny thing is, he's one of the best lads there is out there, genuine and true.

Weird moment of the day:
Some random MancScum, actually I know exactly who he is... had some words with M. He didn't like the way she was singing with the Chelski bunch after the game. He actually threatened physical harm to her. I was standing about 1o feet away, waiting for him to take a step, which never appeared.

I figured most of it was just drunken rambling but he had a lot of balls to say some of the things he did. I think M would have handled herself though, maybe even pulled him down ala Elizabeth Lambert style.



MONDAY

I can not believe not a single Scouser gave me a score update today. I'm lumping you all back together. One big old lump of scouse, some friends you are. And by the way, if you are going to dive, at least - A. make it look good. - B. win the bloody game.

halfasses

~LeChat

Internationals or How I plot my move to Faroe Islands!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I won and delicate dismantling of the Faroe Islands continued.

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

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

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

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

Saturday NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is nothing else like it. Football.

~LeChat

Blackburn HOME (Mr. Wenger's 13th anniversary)

Where to begin, where to begin?

A little background for those who don't know.
Mr. Wenger began his Arsenal career v. Blackburn at home.
Mr. Wenger celebrates his anniversary v. Blackburn at home.
Mr. LeChat fondly remembers a George Graham led Arsenal kicking the yarbels out of same said club at home. (little fuzzy on details, not even sure if it was a league game the more I think about it.)
Blackburn brings me the happy.

Friday Evening
...began with a call from Sheffield. Calls from Sheffield on a Friday usually start out with, "let's have a pint and call it an early evening." However, he and I both know that is not the way it ends, ever. I took a rain check and headed home for a restart in the morning.

SATURDAY
Ahhh the Fun Festival. Nothing butters up your day as a million lost souls looking for worthless trinkets sold by some vendors. There is only one, well a few good things about the Fun Festival. PIT BEEF being the first and second.

The local crew were around, as there weren't many interesting games on in the morning. It started off with just myself, MiniMourinho and ChelskiGirl. We demanded the Burnley game but were given Scum v. Bolton, which was only down to Scum being near the top of the table. (I refuse to acknowledge their place in the league)

I also believe Irish was trying to make me suffer, cause he did ask me which game for the big screen. Bastard.

A Birmingham supporter came in but that didn't persuade him any either. Irish told him the game was upstairs, so he went on up. We all chuckled about it. Honestly, I don't think anyone of the three of us cared which match was on, just nice to sit with old friends talking about inane things.

11AM rolls around and it was decided that the time was nigh for PIT BEEF. Step outside and standing on the curb is Sheffield with Brummie. Brummie was digging into some Pad Thai she got from one of the booths and Sheffield had already began the PIT BEEF mission. Needless to say ChelskiGirl and I hit up the first PIT BEEF stand we saw. Sheffield had a secret spot, that he waited until after we had gotten ours and then decides to go there. Bastard.

It did not matter. There was PIT BEEF and it was GOOD.

Back at the pub, MiniMourinho decided to call it early and jostled off to home. The rest of the crew stuck about for the MancScum match. MancSheriff shows up but was really the only one to actually show up for the screening. He had been up the street and walked down.

I have to say, Sunderland put on a great show for the first half. ChelskiGirl is hungry and decides Pad Thai sounds good. I agree to share it, just because neither one of us are big eaters but enjoy a good meal. Brummie's Pad Thai had looked so delicious as well. I believe Sheffield might have also taken a bite or two. Community eating while watching MancScum drop points to Sunderland.

AHHHHH Saturday.

SUNDAY SUNDAY SUNDAY the main event. 830AM

Let's just say I won't discuss my Saturday evening but I had the fond memory of being reminded that I was still suffering from a mild chest cold. Sleep what is that thing you call sleep. Half-a-dozen Carlsbergs... BAD IDEA.

However, I awaken to nice crisp, not quite Autumn day. It was beautiful. The sun was shining. It was nice light jacket weather. I woke up at 630 or so... popped my Pandora on the laptop -Ska/Dirty Reggae station, which decided to play like a dozen of my favorite songs in a row... drive down to the point in 15 minutes... find parking at the corner of Wolfe and Aliceanna (free!)... walk to the pub, whistle happy song!

HalfArseDean was at the pub, apparently he was there on Saturday as well but was across the street when I was leaving. Anyways, Irish starts trying to work his wit against me but I pull out my rapier.. touche touche... I score a few good ones.

The room starts to fill. GrumpyGooner has a seat next to me and HalfArseDean. ArseSaintNick rolls in, late as usual. Half way through the first half LilBlondieGooner is texting me like crazy about wanting to miss work. She actually sneaks down and catches the end of the half before running out the door.

A Certain Scouser was trying to get me to save some seats for her and her friend. However I sent her a text back saying that all the seats were nicked by Scousers. I am sure she found that amusing. Anyways the surge of non-Arsenal red was penetrated by the ever jovial Chelski bunch.

And were they penetrated!

Highlight reel moment: ScouseGrubs was standing in the corner, being mellow, as usual. The Chelski bunch are singing One man went to Mo and ScouseGrubs, like a man possessed, leaps over a table, knocks over like 10 people and starts in with You Ain't Got No History. The next thing I notice the pub was at a deafening pitch; Scousers, Chelski trying to out sing each other.

THIS. IS. FOOTBALL.

ScouseGrubs turns around with his normal half smiling look, so I give him a guyshake, you know the half hug handshake. He departed along with most of the others. A Certain Scouser stuck around with a pouty face, tried to cheer her up a little bit but I think the under-performance of her club had her down.

By the way, I am still taking offers on a proper Red & White shirt.

MiniMourinho was his old self, which was good to see. Overall the Sunday afternoon was a good time. The crew decided to try and stick around for the American game, which was fun for about 10 minutes.

There were a couple of people that came into the pub from the Fun Fest to watch the game. We let them come to the understanding that this was a proper football pub. A few choruses of some delightful songs began with You Fill Up My Senses, followed by the ARSELOBA melodies. Irish began doing a jig. Some of the outsiders paid their tab and left quickly thereafter.

Mission Accomplished.

If your friends can't sing and if they don't sing then they're no friends of mine!

~LeChat