Well what a dynamic weekend!
First things first, Saturday, I was working. Now I really do enjoy the fact that may job is meant to help out the less fortunate, however weekends... working... well I do need money from somewhere. I shouldn't bellyache about things like that and just get on with it.
Mind you I do have a soft spot in my heart for Norwich... go'on Canaries! 'ave em!
Sunday was a much more productive day. The Arsenal faithful were dealt the normal cards and seated in the Arsenal section, in the back of the pub. While the main event, MancScum v. Shitty was appearing on the bigger screens.
It was well worth it.
Since ManCity Himself decided to take a vacation to a small Caribbean territory, the One and Only decided to take his place. It was quite funny from where I sat. You could hear her voice above all the rest. The normal, quiet, reserved English lass had dropped the gloves and was out swinging.
Honestly, she made up for the lack of ManCity Himself not being there. Johnny and the boys couldn't piece together a proper song to save their lives. Well seeing that I never spied half of them before and that goes for both sides of the ScummyShitty fence.
I do want to give a hearty congrats to the Shitty though, still not a big team but keep it up and some day you'll be like your more well known and overly marketed cousin. I dare not call them brothers or the whole of Manchester would probably burn down. Aw what the hell, cousin-brothers!
The rest of the afterglow was spent chatting with Vincenzo and Camo about various things before and after the dismantling of Chelski at the hands of who? I don't know some Park Rangers or something, haven't been in the league in 15 odd years or so. Bad thing is, I actually remember when they were in the top flight. Back before the money moved in and the chairman lost his soul. Back when I could play 90 minutes and not complain about my ankles the next morning. Back when I was satisfied reading the Monday paper on Tuesday for match reports of the past weekend.
I could go on but that would be pointless.
One that note.. did anyone notice Wright-Phillips played on the left and Joey Barton on the right wing! I could tell my other joke but it's not good for mixed company.
Now for Girls Aloud! (aka The One and Only and her crew)
I know half the pub didn't get that joke, which is even funnier!
c'est la vie
~LeChat
Showing posts with label manchester. Show all posts
Showing posts with label manchester. Show all posts
24 October 2011
17 October 2011
Sunderland at Home
Another pleasant weekend goes by, and the Arsenal take three points. I would guess that I should be taking away some satisfaction but the reality of it all is that it feels quite hollow. Three points is three points, no matter what, right? I don't give in easily with that philosophy but I do understand it.
Saturday at the pub was quite fun. The Scousers and Mancscum seemed to make it a game. Which at the end of the day, is what you really want to see. The mega blow out things are a bit... lacking... For lack of a better word.
The marathon kept a couple people pinned in to our little bubble which wasn't a bad thing. It's nice when folks stick around a bit. That hasn't been happening much at all lately. Myself, Camo, and HalfArseDean made a day of it though, even caught up with ACMilan, who was his usual self.
Sunday... well outside of the fact that I thought the game was at 10, was pretty nice. All the regular cast of characters, who jeered me for showing up in the middle of the second half, so sort of a homecoming, in an odd sort of way.
Afterwards, I found myself, Ginger, and SlainteLOSC surrounded by Geordies and Scum. Some new scum, I'd never spied before. They seemed a nice enough lot but not ones who have been bled upon the altar before.
One, who I know was kidding, asked if I had Adebayor's name on my kit. Of course I sneered in my sneery way and said, “I don't put anyone's name on my back, least of all a mercenary like half your lot.”
He laughed a bit nervously. Maybe between that and me saying earlier that he was lucky I couldn't find a knife fast enough to stab him when he had sat down next to me. Albeit they did put the one lads girlfriend between me and them. I don't think it was on purpose but it did happen.
Whilst I was waiting for my check, this guy comes up to me, introduces himself and starts asking about the game. I mention that I only made it down for the second half. Then he asks where I watch the Arsenal games. My reply of course was “Here, This is my home-bar.”
The next words that come out of his mouth were something something bistro. I took a deep breath and shook my head, “I don't go to that place.”
This led into a long conversation. He explained that he actually helps out preparing the place for the games and what not. He also mentioned how a certain person has made himself quite a few enemies. I explained to him the reasons why I don't patron that place and how I felt about, in gentle terms.
Mind you, the guy was simply a nice guy but he kept trying to convince me to go over to the bistro for a game. I tried being a nice and diplomatic as I could about it before finally tiring of the conversation, but it kept going for some odd reason.
Now I know exactly how it feels to be tapped up when your happy playing for your own club or in this case watching the football at your home-bar.
Ginger had been waiting patiently, while me and the bistroguy chatted, so I conveniently slipped in that we both needed to go and nodded towards her. He let me escape, but seriously it made me wonder if he had come over on a recruitment mission and I just happened to be the only one left.
Who knows? All I can say, as I have said before, I will never be setting a foot in that bloody place.
~LeChat
Saturday at the pub was quite fun. The Scousers and Mancscum seemed to make it a game. Which at the end of the day, is what you really want to see. The mega blow out things are a bit... lacking... For lack of a better word.
The marathon kept a couple people pinned in to our little bubble which wasn't a bad thing. It's nice when folks stick around a bit. That hasn't been happening much at all lately. Myself, Camo, and HalfArseDean made a day of it though, even caught up with ACMilan, who was his usual self.
Sunday... well outside of the fact that I thought the game was at 10, was pretty nice. All the regular cast of characters, who jeered me for showing up in the middle of the second half, so sort of a homecoming, in an odd sort of way.
Afterwards, I found myself, Ginger, and SlainteLOSC surrounded by Geordies and Scum. Some new scum, I'd never spied before. They seemed a nice enough lot but not ones who have been bled upon the altar before.
One, who I know was kidding, asked if I had Adebayor's name on my kit. Of course I sneered in my sneery way and said, “I don't put anyone's name on my back, least of all a mercenary like half your lot.”
He laughed a bit nervously. Maybe between that and me saying earlier that he was lucky I couldn't find a knife fast enough to stab him when he had sat down next to me. Albeit they did put the one lads girlfriend between me and them. I don't think it was on purpose but it did happen.
Whilst I was waiting for my check, this guy comes up to me, introduces himself and starts asking about the game. I mention that I only made it down for the second half. Then he asks where I watch the Arsenal games. My reply of course was “Here, This is my home-bar.”
The next words that come out of his mouth were something something bistro. I took a deep breath and shook my head, “I don't go to that place.”
This led into a long conversation. He explained that he actually helps out preparing the place for the games and what not. He also mentioned how a certain person has made himself quite a few enemies. I explained to him the reasons why I don't patron that place and how I felt about, in gentle terms.
Mind you, the guy was simply a nice guy but he kept trying to convince me to go over to the bistro for a game. I tried being a nice and diplomatic as I could about it before finally tiring of the conversation, but it kept going for some odd reason.
Now I know exactly how it feels to be tapped up when your happy playing for your own club or in this case watching the football at your home-bar.
Ginger had been waiting patiently, while me and the bistroguy chatted, so I conveniently slipped in that we both needed to go and nodded towards her. He let me escape, but seriously it made me wonder if he had come over on a recruitment mission and I just happened to be the only one left.
Who knows? All I can say, as I have said before, I will never be setting a foot in that bloody place.
~LeChat
14 September 2011
Swansea at Home, Borussia Dortmund (CL)
So much talk, still, about the 8-2
dismantling of the Arsenal by the hands or should I say feet of the
MancScum that you would think the season was over... in September. It
can be like that, life, over-dramatic and unnecessarily inaccurate
(double negative, I know). We tend to forget about what will happen
the next week or the week after that. It's not all fatalistic.
I have a grand idea, let's keep
watching until May, then decide what the story was/is going to be.
The next week has happened. It wasn't
the overwhelming success that one would think for a top whatever side
against a newly promoted Swansea but there is that shred of hope.
Even in the darkest hour there shall be light.
I never quite understood how one can
have some thing that at the time seemed so debilitating, so
overwhelming, so dreadful, be the end all and be all. It may have
been about 3 years ago now, during the apex of the whole mortgage
foreclosure crisis in the US. A woman decided to throw herself off
the topish floor of a garage downtown. It caused a bit of a mess.
Now, that is a way to go, about 10
floors of just free-fall and hitting the ground. While, I never got a
full clear story about why she did it, the only thing I could think
is, “what was the trigger that made her do it.” I have no idea
whether she was married or had children or even elderly parents to
look after. The whole thing comes off as a really selfish act,
albeit, quite a dramatic one.
At the end of the day, you have to ask
yourself, were the problems she had really that bad? Did the issues
she have really affect her in a way that there was no other way out?
Like I said, I'm not her and I couldn't have any possible way to know
what was going through her mind or what pushed her over the edge in
such a manner. I wonder if anyone ever helped put it all in
perspective.
Perspective, I guess that is the most
important thing. Keeping everything in perspective. Sure an 8-2 loss
seems like the end of the world. Sure 6 seasons with no proper
silverware seems like an end to an era but the reality of it is...
it's not.
A few trades, Swansea and Borussia
Dortmund later, there is a whole new look, a beacon at the end of a
really long and dark tunnel. The only hope is that the beacon of
light is not a train but actual light.
Funny thing about that analogy, I've
been hiking through a tunnel when a train decided to come by. Mind
you and me, not the most fun thing in the world to have happen.
However, it could have been worst...much worst.
~LeChat
05 September 2011
Udinese CL and United Away
My mind says I should have written this about a week ago. My heart says I was right to wait a bit before putting something down. I'm not going to dwell on the victory or the loss. What's the point in doing that now?
So here we are, the close of the transfer window that had quite a few last minute decisions made. I can't say either way but sometimes in life you got to make decisions. Sometimes you have to say am I going to keep letting this happen or do I just make a firm decision. I assume the later happened for now we see Benayoun and Arteta pulling on the red and white.
I can neither be shocked nor surprised. In reality, I care about as much as... wow, can't even come up with a proper analogy. By the way, I'm about to drop kick blogger in a minute; keeps refreshing in the middle of sentences.
Two weeks ago, whilst watching the utter demise of the sp*rs followed by the superior drubbing of the Arsenal. It was quite interesting to have this odd fellow go on a tirade about spending for players and having a plan and other such nosh. When in fact the only way to get his point across was to get exponentially louder when anyone offered any differing opinion. No sense in trying to have a practical conversation about football at that point.
It is as if the blinders had been put in place and there was nothing you could say or suggest that would make a difference. I don't want to compare that with a current political rhetoric that is occurring right now and has been for the last 10 years or so. I really don't understand it nor shall I try.
Full circle and I still lack an analogy for not caring and wanting to drop kick something for the sake of just drop kicking something. The dull thud of foot to body contact or better yet the hollow thunk of hitting someone directly in the chest cavity.
Anyways, the last couple of weeks; a sound thrashing at the hands of MancScum, an earthquake, a hurricane (that wasn't too bad), a few decent trades, and a grand prix that people decided to complain about. I like to agree with one observant fellow who stated, "you knew about it for over a year!"
Thank you and good night.
~LeChat
So here we are, the close of the transfer window that had quite a few last minute decisions made. I can't say either way but sometimes in life you got to make decisions. Sometimes you have to say am I going to keep letting this happen or do I just make a firm decision. I assume the later happened for now we see Benayoun and Arteta pulling on the red and white.
I can neither be shocked nor surprised. In reality, I care about as much as... wow, can't even come up with a proper analogy. By the way, I'm about to drop kick blogger in a minute; keeps refreshing in the middle of sentences.
Two weeks ago, whilst watching the utter demise of the sp*rs followed by the superior drubbing of the Arsenal. It was quite interesting to have this odd fellow go on a tirade about spending for players and having a plan and other such nosh. When in fact the only way to get his point across was to get exponentially louder when anyone offered any differing opinion. No sense in trying to have a practical conversation about football at that point.
It is as if the blinders had been put in place and there was nothing you could say or suggest that would make a difference. I don't want to compare that with a current political rhetoric that is occurring right now and has been for the last 10 years or so. I really don't understand it nor shall I try.
Full circle and I still lack an analogy for not caring and wanting to drop kick something for the sake of just drop kicking something. The dull thud of foot to body contact or better yet the hollow thunk of hitting someone directly in the chest cavity.
Anyways, the last couple of weeks; a sound thrashing at the hands of MancScum, an earthquake, a hurricane (that wasn't too bad), a few decent trades, and a grand prix that people decided to complain about. I like to agree with one observant fellow who stated, "you knew about it for over a year!"
Thank you and good night.
~LeChat
31 May 2011
Bridesmaids!
I bet that is how the old MancScum are feeling about now. I know this blog is about a day late and always a dollar short. This weekend did prove quite interesting overall.
Saturday started off with a few coordination issues but eventually we all ended up where we needed to be at the right time. Champions League final at the pub. It was also the pre-celebration of HalfArseDean's birthday.
The few of us who had met up at the dollar store rolled around to the pub. The pub was packed. A lot of familiar faces showed up. It was like an end of the year homecoming, if that homecoming had a ton of MancScum that you've never really spied before.
I'm not complaining, just making a point. Most of us did our best to ensure there was an atmosphere of sorts. Even Karate Kid Johnny decided to give it a go and tried to get his fellow Scum supporters into it. He was a bit successful and now a bit more respected.
That's all it takes, really. If you show up, support your club and take your lumps, you get the respect. If you show up, act like an ass when your lumps are given to you, then you can fuck off to the bistro.
At the end of the day, we decided to keep the party going a bit for HalfArseDean. He's a good person and an impromptu party/bar crawl is what he needed. Good times.
Monday saw what was to be a disappointing promotion final for Reading. Myself, Ginger, the Librarian and HalfArseDean showed up at the pub to support. Vinnie, found himself in a seat at Wembley. We were hoping to spot him on the television but weren't so lucky. I guess it wasn't anyone's day, well except Swansea who will probably pick up a point at the Grove next season.
So a weekend of ups and downs, good friends and better drinks. One can't complain about that. Now off to the summer things...
....whatever that is.
You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you. You'd be like heaven to touch. I want to hold you so much. At long last love has arrived. I thank God I'm alive. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you.
Pardon the way I stare. There is nothing else to compare. The sight of you leaves me weak. There are no words left to speak. But if you feel like I feel. Please let me know that it's real. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you.
Bahdah Bahdah Bah dah da da da, Bahdah Bahdah Baaaah!
IT'S AR-SE-LOBA la la la laaa lalaa
It's Arseloba la la la laaa lalaa
It's Arseloba, Arseloba FC
The GREATEST team, that no one has ever seen!
(just a frame of reference. let's get the shirts started)
~LeChat
Saturday started off with a few coordination issues but eventually we all ended up where we needed to be at the right time. Champions League final at the pub. It was also the pre-celebration of HalfArseDean's birthday.
The few of us who had met up at the dollar store rolled around to the pub. The pub was packed. A lot of familiar faces showed up. It was like an end of the year homecoming, if that homecoming had a ton of MancScum that you've never really spied before.
I'm not complaining, just making a point. Most of us did our best to ensure there was an atmosphere of sorts. Even Karate Kid Johnny decided to give it a go and tried to get his fellow Scum supporters into it. He was a bit successful and now a bit more respected.
That's all it takes, really. If you show up, support your club and take your lumps, you get the respect. If you show up, act like an ass when your lumps are given to you, then you can fuck off to the bistro.
At the end of the day, we decided to keep the party going a bit for HalfArseDean. He's a good person and an impromptu party/bar crawl is what he needed. Good times.
Monday saw what was to be a disappointing promotion final for Reading. Myself, Ginger, the Librarian and HalfArseDean showed up at the pub to support. Vinnie, found himself in a seat at Wembley. We were hoping to spot him on the television but weren't so lucky. I guess it wasn't anyone's day, well except Swansea who will probably pick up a point at the Grove next season.
So a weekend of ups and downs, good friends and better drinks. One can't complain about that. Now off to the summer things...
....whatever that is.
You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you. You'd be like heaven to touch. I want to hold you so much. At long last love has arrived. I thank God I'm alive. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you.
Pardon the way I stare. There is nothing else to compare. The sight of you leaves me weak. There are no words left to speak. But if you feel like I feel. Please let me know that it's real. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you.
Bahdah Bahdah Bah dah da da da, Bahdah Bahdah Baaaah!
IT'S AR-SE-LOBA la la la laaa lalaa
It's Arseloba la la la laaa lalaa
It's Arseloba, Arseloba FC
The GREATEST team, that no one has ever seen!
(just a frame of reference. let's get the shirts started)
~LeChat
23 May 2011
And now what?
So a fourth place for the Gunners. I could go on and on about things being unacceptable this season but why beat the horse.
The last EPL weekend at the pub saw most of the regulars there. However, the lack of a decent game being shown was disappointing. Myself, well I was more interested in some of the more important relegation battles.
The major networks decided that ManYoo game should be shown. I guess they were playing Blackpool but really? There were many more interesting match-ups this Sunday.
Saturday was a more positive day overall. Met up with SlainteLOSC and a few others to watch Lille solidify Ligue 1. It was a good day for him and I was pretty happy to spend it with the crew that showed up and supported.
Anyways, continuing on, the after-party on Sunday was quite fun. It was a fond farewell to some of the faithful who will not be with us next season. And, overall, it was nice to be surprised by the MancScum at the dollar store.
Now thinking about next week, there will be a fun CL final. I know where my non-Arsenal allegiances lie. Here's hoping for a good quality final and not a boring 9 men behind the ball affair that is just plain boring.
~LeChat
The last EPL weekend at the pub saw most of the regulars there. However, the lack of a decent game being shown was disappointing. Myself, well I was more interested in some of the more important relegation battles.
The major networks decided that ManYoo game should be shown. I guess they were playing Blackpool but really? There were many more interesting match-ups this Sunday.
Saturday was a more positive day overall. Met up with SlainteLOSC and a few others to watch Lille solidify Ligue 1. It was a good day for him and I was pretty happy to spend it with the crew that showed up and supported.
Anyways, continuing on, the after-party on Sunday was quite fun. It was a fond farewell to some of the faithful who will not be with us next season. And, overall, it was nice to be surprised by the MancScum at the dollar store.
Now thinking about next week, there will be a fun CL final. I know where my non-Arsenal allegiances lie. Here's hoping for a good quality final and not a boring 9 men behind the ball affair that is just plain boring.
~LeChat
16 May 2011
37 and done!
Well I cannot leave for long. I know some people have been asking what happened to the blog. Well the answer was/is simple... I had quit. I don't remember, probably the last one, you can go back and read, if you would like.
On a more serious note, there's been a lot happening in the world. I'm not going to rehash it right now but just a simple nod at it and know that it has been addressed. I know there is place in the after for us all and that's good enough for me.
The pub has been quite a bit active lately. I must have been missing something for quite a few weeks as the attendance had been lacking. However, it's good to see a few new faces, hopefully these will stick around and learn the secret ways of the pub.
Honestly, there are no secrets.
So you all may know of my dislike for the Bistro and some of it's denizens. Well prince of the bistro who apparently enjoys the nightlife on this side of the Patapsaco decided to make a royal ass of himself, as usual.
I'm not one to launch bricks for no proper reason, but this guy is aiming to get himself done. First he goes off and yobs off after the sheriff as he happened to be walking the bar next-door. Later he tries to front up on the manager in black. History should tell you a little bit but I'm not even one to push my luck with the manager in black. He's a shady enough mid-western character to begin with and only, well nothing good comes out of Detroit.
Anyways, enough of dealing with stupidity.
Congrats to LOSC for winning something or the other. heehee
Congrats to ManYoo on winning the league... 19. And a proper nod to the ones who unfurled the banner in Anfield.
Congrats to ManShitty for being not so shitty and getting the Fuck All cup.
And a big cake to West Ham, sorry my friends. I understand there was a bit of a fracas at the end of season dinner. I don't see Ba staying there.
Well next week should see the final nails in the coffin for some. It will also be the return of the Crescendo!
Next grand plans... thinking of moving the blog, but still undecided.
We will see... we will see...
~LeChat
On a more serious note, there's been a lot happening in the world. I'm not going to rehash it right now but just a simple nod at it and know that it has been addressed. I know there is place in the after for us all and that's good enough for me.
The pub has been quite a bit active lately. I must have been missing something for quite a few weeks as the attendance had been lacking. However, it's good to see a few new faces, hopefully these will stick around and learn the secret ways of the pub.
Honestly, there are no secrets.
So you all may know of my dislike for the Bistro and some of it's denizens. Well prince of the bistro who apparently enjoys the nightlife on this side of the Patapsaco decided to make a royal ass of himself, as usual.
I'm not one to launch bricks for no proper reason, but this guy is aiming to get himself done. First he goes off and yobs off after the sheriff as he happened to be walking the bar next-door. Later he tries to front up on the manager in black. History should tell you a little bit but I'm not even one to push my luck with the manager in black. He's a shady enough mid-western character to begin with and only, well nothing good comes out of Detroit.
Anyways, enough of dealing with stupidity.
Congrats to LOSC for winning something or the other. heehee
Congrats to ManYoo on winning the league... 19. And a proper nod to the ones who unfurled the banner in Anfield.
Congrats to ManShitty for being not so shitty and getting the Fuck All cup.
And a big cake to West Ham, sorry my friends. I understand there was a bit of a fracas at the end of season dinner. I don't see Ba staying there.
Well next week should see the final nails in the coffin for some. It will also be the return of the Crescendo!
Next grand plans... thinking of moving the blog, but still undecided.
We will see... we will see...
~LeChat
14 March 2011
Barcelona Away (CL) ManYoo Away (FA)
I don't have much to say. Really nothing to say at all.
To be honest, I've given up on things to say. It's really indefensible.
Two competitions in one week. What is there to be said? Nothing at all.
My CD player has stopped working in my car. My laptop has a virus and won't let me restore. Japan got wiped out and there was not a large monster in sight!
Will something restore my faith?
Wait? What's this? JENS? You've got to be kidding.
I don't really care anymore.
~LeChat
To be honest, I've given up on things to say. It's really indefensible.
Two competitions in one week. What is there to be said? Nothing at all.
My CD player has stopped working in my car. My laptop has a virus and won't let me restore. Japan got wiped out and there was not a large monster in sight!
Will something restore my faith?
Wait? What's this? JENS? You've got to be kidding.
I don't really care anymore.
~LeChat
07 March 2011
Orient at Home (FA) and Sunderland at Home
My what a lackluster week. To be honest, I could care less about either tie. It's kind of funny how one can be a hero on a Wednesday and a complete muppet by the weekend.
Nicklas Bendtner, please stand up!
Fact of the matter is you may think you're the bees knees but your consistency is severely lacking. The big head and the big feet need to be in communication.
Ahh, I'm not here to slag off on poor Nicky alone. Honestly there's no reason, no concrete reason to drop points at this stage of the season. With the United scum falling prey to the team that once was Liverpool, the Arsenal would be 1 point, ONE BLOODY SODDING POINT off the title.
However, this is not the team to do things the easy way. Let's not revisit the should have, could have and would haves of these last couple of weeks. It's trying. A man could be dying slowly in a pool of quicksand and you have about 33% chance of the Arsenal throwing the rope within arms reach, whether or not the rope doesn't break is a different story.
I know there are some reading this saying, "What kind of fan are you, slagging off your own squad like this? Are you some kind of glory hunter? If they don't win, you just whine."
To those I say, when you've been doing this as long as I have, you would understand the intimate and almost salacious relationship you have with your club. How that club comes to define your very being to the point of perversion. How, if you come up to my face and say those words to me, that I might actually haul off and hit you with nary hesitance or judiciousness.
When you have paid your dues and have been allocated your time, in that case, you may question my loyalty as I would question yours. In short, that is not for me to decide nor care about your loyalties or lack thereof.
I'm just saying, I've walked the valley of death and am prepared to stride once more with my head held high, in spite of what mine enemies and detractors would throw down upon me.
Oh to... Oh to be... Oh to be a Gooner!
~LeChat
Nicklas Bendtner, please stand up!
Fact of the matter is you may think you're the bees knees but your consistency is severely lacking. The big head and the big feet need to be in communication.
Ahh, I'm not here to slag off on poor Nicky alone. Honestly there's no reason, no concrete reason to drop points at this stage of the season. With the United scum falling prey to the team that once was Liverpool, the Arsenal would be 1 point, ONE BLOODY SODDING POINT off the title.
However, this is not the team to do things the easy way. Let's not revisit the should have, could have and would haves of these last couple of weeks. It's trying. A man could be dying slowly in a pool of quicksand and you have about 33% chance of the Arsenal throwing the rope within arms reach, whether or not the rope doesn't break is a different story.
I know there are some reading this saying, "What kind of fan are you, slagging off your own squad like this? Are you some kind of glory hunter? If they don't win, you just whine."
To those I say, when you've been doing this as long as I have, you would understand the intimate and almost salacious relationship you have with your club. How that club comes to define your very being to the point of perversion. How, if you come up to my face and say those words to me, that I might actually haul off and hit you with nary hesitance or judiciousness.
When you have paid your dues and have been allocated your time, in that case, you may question my loyalty as I would question yours. In short, that is not for me to decide nor care about your loyalties or lack thereof.
I'm just saying, I've walked the valley of death and am prepared to stride once more with my head held high, in spite of what mine enemies and detractors would throw down upon me.
Oh to... Oh to be... Oh to be a Gooner!
~LeChat
14 February 2011
Wolves at Home
Happy St. Valentine's day to you and yours or it, or whatever you decide to declare your romantic interests to. Whether it be an actual living breathing human being, a sheep or that nice soft sock/pillow, etc.. and so on.
This weekend we were met with the MancScum v. ManShitty derby. However, for myself, it was at a very inconvenient time in the morning. I decided it would best be spent getting myself ready for the proper match and not deal with the fair-weather rabble that tends to show up for these things.
Did I ever tell you how much I detest many MancScum so called fans? I'm not talking about the ones that I actually call friends, albeit in the loose vernacular term. I mean the ones who discovered United when xxx played for them or they won the double or the store down the street sold Beckham kits and he was/is still the best player ever.
You know the people I'm talking about. All clubs, at least on this side of the world have them; the glory hunter fan. There are a ton of these people, who don't know the history, only understand the geographical significance of this weekend's derby and only show up for the big games... when they're winning.
Now, I'll give you the respect if you just happened upon the sport at such a time and it is the reason you became interested, but don't feign interest when it's convenient. If I can't hold a conversation with you about the tactical significance of Coventry's midfield when they are playing Doncaster during a mid-table skirmish during a rainy boring nil nil on a Wednesday night, then we have nothing to go on about, do we?
Don't get me wrong, like I said, if you want to learn and spend time in the salt mines, like we all have, then much respect. However, you need to show up for more than the just the big games, when you are on top of the league.
/rant
The Arsenal match just happened to be on during the same time as the Liverpool match, so we were regulated to the side screen without sound. It didn't matter much to me as it was a much more comfortable match for the boys in red and white.
The Liverpool affair, I must say, was quite fun. At some point during the match, Shorts decided that Wigan needed some props, so to speak. He carefully blended a little ditty off of a Wu-Tang Clan chant, which started to bug a Scouser I'd never seen before. It was kind of funny but to his credit.
He was all about it until he found out that it was the 'latics was just short for athletics and had nothing to do with milk, courtesy of the Lady of Manchester. We'll accept that as true.
This morning was filled with an unusual surprise. Ronaldo (the real one or the fat one, whichever you prefer) is retiring. I remember when he first stepped out for Brasil and was a complete phenom. I even bought his biography, something I never do for footballers but it's an interesting story.
Actually, if Anelka wrote one, I'd buy that too, because I'm sure that's an interesting story. Also, I still haven't seen the Zidane movie, a 21st century portrait. If anyone can get your hands on it, I'd be truly grateful.
Anyways, I knew he'd been hurt and not playing much, definitely not playing to his full 100%. I can admit I actually shed a small tear. The goofy smile, big head and funky hairdo will be missed. I don't see him staying in football, maybe in a back office, running some camps or scouting or something but not as manager.
So to Ronaldo Luis Nazario de Lima, BOA SORTE!
(that bloody well better be correct!)
~LeChat
This weekend we were met with the MancScum v. ManShitty derby. However, for myself, it was at a very inconvenient time in the morning. I decided it would best be spent getting myself ready for the proper match and not deal with the fair-weather rabble that tends to show up for these things.
Did I ever tell you how much I detest many MancScum so called fans? I'm not talking about the ones that I actually call friends, albeit in the loose vernacular term. I mean the ones who discovered United when xxx played for them or they won the double or the store down the street sold Beckham kits and he was/is still the best player ever.
You know the people I'm talking about. All clubs, at least on this side of the world have them; the glory hunter fan. There are a ton of these people, who don't know the history, only understand the geographical significance of this weekend's derby and only show up for the big games... when they're winning.
Now, I'll give you the respect if you just happened upon the sport at such a time and it is the reason you became interested, but don't feign interest when it's convenient. If I can't hold a conversation with you about the tactical significance of Coventry's midfield when they are playing Doncaster during a mid-table skirmish during a rainy boring nil nil on a Wednesday night, then we have nothing to go on about, do we?
Don't get me wrong, like I said, if you want to learn and spend time in the salt mines, like we all have, then much respect. However, you need to show up for more than the just the big games, when you are on top of the league.
/rant
The Arsenal match just happened to be on during the same time as the Liverpool match, so we were regulated to the side screen without sound. It didn't matter much to me as it was a much more comfortable match for the boys in red and white.
The Liverpool affair, I must say, was quite fun. At some point during the match, Shorts decided that Wigan needed some props, so to speak. He carefully blended a little ditty off of a Wu-Tang Clan chant, which started to bug a Scouser I'd never seen before. It was kind of funny but to his credit.
WIGAN ATHLETIC AIN'T NOTHING TO FUCK WITH!
He was all about it until he found out that it was the 'latics was just short for athletics and had nothing to do with milk, courtesy of the Lady of Manchester. We'll accept that as true.
This morning was filled with an unusual surprise. Ronaldo (the real one or the fat one, whichever you prefer) is retiring. I remember when he first stepped out for Brasil and was a complete phenom. I even bought his biography, something I never do for footballers but it's an interesting story.
Actually, if Anelka wrote one, I'd buy that too, because I'm sure that's an interesting story. Also, I still haven't seen the Zidane movie, a 21st century portrait. If anyone can get your hands on it, I'd be truly grateful.
Anyways, I knew he'd been hurt and not playing much, definitely not playing to his full 100%. I can admit I actually shed a small tear. The goofy smile, big head and funky hairdo will be missed. I don't see him staying in football, maybe in a back office, running some camps or scouting or something but not as manager.
So to Ronaldo Luis Nazario de Lima, BOA SORTE!
(that bloody well better be correct!)
~LeChat
07 February 2011
Everton at Home and Newcastle Away
Well Tuesday was Tuesday. There isn't too much to say about it. It was a mid week game. The Arsenal played... won... 3 points to the good.
Now Saturday was a whole new ball of wax.
LilBlondieGooner sent me an early morning text. She was still jet-lagging from the wrong coast and was wondering when people were coming down. I let her know I'd be right around game time. I couldn't see myself getting there any earlier.
I arrived to the general milling around of the ManShitty by the door, followed by a few of the faithful. Gingerette and I grabbed a booth and invited LilBlondie to come over for a seat. She reminded us that it was MiniMo's birthday.
After a few, some Geordies started filing in. I have to admit I don't have a problem with the Geordie lot from the pub. Most of them are nice guys, at least from my experience with them. They know their football and are proud of their team. One can't complain about that.
However, somewhere along the line, there must be something that happened that a few others make comments about them. I usually just shake my head because I've never had any bad experiences with them. At least not with this lot.
Someone had mentioned they come off a little brusque and boisterous. I am going to chalk it up to people forgetting that they existed. I mean, they are Newcastle fans, what can one expect. It just goes back to my supporters are a reflection of their team and vice-versa. They're honest, I like that.
The first half was good. I can't complain one bit. I did see Shorts walking a small dog in the rain. It was an odd sight.
At halftime, there was cake to be had. The Bakerman, had done up a nice rich chocolate thing and we sang Happy Birthday to MiniMo. It was all quite nice.
The second half, well, how do I say this? I don't know. It happened. I think all my vulgarities for the week left my mouth within a span of 10 minutes.
Later that day, I had gone shopping with Gingerette. While she was in line waiting, I was standing around, checking scores on the phone and just trying not to be in the way. I was the typical guy waiting around the girly section of the store, while stuff was being purchased, not that I really mind or anything.
This lad comes up to me, we give each other the nod, it was obvious he was looking for something but what I didn't know. Somehow he spied enough of my kit, which was half hidden by my jacket.
"Eh? Ya Arsenal mate?" He had a thick London accent that caught me off guard.
"Yah..." I must have looked utterly confused
"Gutted, simply gutted."
"True. It was a different second."
He quickly chimed in, "Ya see United lost."
Nodding and smiling, "2-1 Wolves, just saw it on my phone."
He then asked for the lift, then correcting himself and saying elevator, to which the cashier pointed out. We nod and express good wishes to each other. Funny how you can randomly run into someone and have this random conversation about something completely relevant to your life.
I don't know, maybe I read too much into it. There is something about sport in general though that can make two random people, all of the sudden relate to some particular thing. It's hard pressed to find anything else like it, devoid of race, creed and religion.
In some circles, there are those that say sport is religion. Or you could have one of those shirts from the 90's that read along the lines X is life, the rest is just details.
The fact is, it's a leveling factor in many of our lives, at least for those reading this blog. I guess I'm saying that my life has been enriched by those I've come into contact with through football, the pub and sheer randomness.
For good and for bad, the world keeps getting smaller.
By the way, someone just hacked my yahoo account and spammed from it. Watch your passwords and change them often.
~LeChat
Now Saturday was a whole new ball of wax.
LilBlondieGooner sent me an early morning text. She was still jet-lagging from the wrong coast and was wondering when people were coming down. I let her know I'd be right around game time. I couldn't see myself getting there any earlier.
I arrived to the general milling around of the ManShitty by the door, followed by a few of the faithful. Gingerette and I grabbed a booth and invited LilBlondie to come over for a seat. She reminded us that it was MiniMo's birthday.
After a few, some Geordies started filing in. I have to admit I don't have a problem with the Geordie lot from the pub. Most of them are nice guys, at least from my experience with them. They know their football and are proud of their team. One can't complain about that.
However, somewhere along the line, there must be something that happened that a few others make comments about them. I usually just shake my head because I've never had any bad experiences with them. At least not with this lot.
Someone had mentioned they come off a little brusque and boisterous. I am going to chalk it up to people forgetting that they existed. I mean, they are Newcastle fans, what can one expect. It just goes back to my supporters are a reflection of their team and vice-versa. They're honest, I like that.
The first half was good. I can't complain one bit. I did see Shorts walking a small dog in the rain. It was an odd sight.
At halftime, there was cake to be had. The Bakerman, had done up a nice rich chocolate thing and we sang Happy Birthday to MiniMo. It was all quite nice.
The second half, well, how do I say this? I don't know. It happened. I think all my vulgarities for the week left my mouth within a span of 10 minutes.
Later that day, I had gone shopping with Gingerette. While she was in line waiting, I was standing around, checking scores on the phone and just trying not to be in the way. I was the typical guy waiting around the girly section of the store, while stuff was being purchased, not that I really mind or anything.
This lad comes up to me, we give each other the nod, it was obvious he was looking for something but what I didn't know. Somehow he spied enough of my kit, which was half hidden by my jacket.
"Eh? Ya Arsenal mate?" He had a thick London accent that caught me off guard.
"Yah..." I must have looked utterly confused
"Gutted, simply gutted."
"True. It was a different second."
He quickly chimed in, "Ya see United lost."
Nodding and smiling, "2-1 Wolves, just saw it on my phone."
He then asked for the lift, then correcting himself and saying elevator, to which the cashier pointed out. We nod and express good wishes to each other. Funny how you can randomly run into someone and have this random conversation about something completely relevant to your life.
I don't know, maybe I read too much into it. There is something about sport in general though that can make two random people, all of the sudden relate to some particular thing. It's hard pressed to find anything else like it, devoid of race, creed and religion.
In some circles, there are those that say sport is religion. Or you could have one of those shirts from the 90's that read along the lines X is life, the rest is just details.
The fact is, it's a leveling factor in many of our lives, at least for those reading this blog. I guess I'm saying that my life has been enriched by those I've come into contact with through football, the pub and sheer randomness.
For good and for bad, the world keeps getting smaller.
By the way, someone just hacked my yahoo account and spammed from it. Watch your passwords and change them often.
~LeChat
24 January 2011
Leeds Away (FA) and Wigan at Home
Well FA is said and done. Well Leeds got done, something to be said in that. It's always a good day when Leeds gets done. I spent my fine afternoon at work, looking at the Guardian play by play concerning the doing of Leeds.
Funny part about it, the Guardian is not allowed in Elland Road. It has something to do with reporting a story about the shadowy ownership of Leeds a few years back. There was a call for transparency which was met with a "you're not allowed in here, again, ever." Real mature but it is Leeds, should you expect more.
So, the weekend comes with no real surprises. Somehow along the way I had picked up a cold from someone. I don't want to point any fingers but someone did shake my hand and explain to me how they were sick all week. To that person, thanks a mil brutha, now I got this bloody cold.
It was bound to happen one way or another. It's the sickness time of year.
There was a fair number of MancScum supporters out this weekend, which was nice to see. It wasn't even a big game or anything, even a newer face. It's always good when someone new comes in and just jumps right in, like they belong; none of this trying hard to impress drek or any sort of thing like that. Hop up on a couch/stool or what have you, give a friendly nod and on with the football. Too bad everyone can't be like that.
I was going to do a whole rant about the sexism thing. The female linesman and what the two numptys on Sky had said. Honestly, it's been beaten to death already. The problem is inherent in the system, not to paraphrase Monty Python, but it is.
There is no need for the degradation of anyone based on gender, race, sexual or religious preference. It should be about doing the job. Apparently, the young woman in question does her job better than most of the men out there. I would like to add a plus she's much better looking but that just adds to the sexism fire.
I myself can often give into lad culture as well. I'm not going to pretend to be holier than thou or anything like that. However, in my heart of hearts, the referee is still a bastard, the linesman/woman is blind and Chelsea is a bunch of pillow-biting tossers.
In all seriousness though, there is no room for what those announcers did. There is no room for anything like that.
Is it destroying football?
That I do not know because it's been there and is still an ugly mark upon it's face.
Is there an easy solution?
No, there is never an easy solution.
Well what should we do?
Start subtly reminding everyone that they are probably an asshole, just like everyone else and get on with it. It's unnecessary to continue with ideas like that in this century. Whether the person is man/woman/black/white/Muslim/Hindu or whatever they may be; It has no bearing on the scoreline, well, unless the linesman/woman is truly blind.
~LeChat
Funny part about it, the Guardian is not allowed in Elland Road. It has something to do with reporting a story about the shadowy ownership of Leeds a few years back. There was a call for transparency which was met with a "you're not allowed in here, again, ever." Real mature but it is Leeds, should you expect more.
So, the weekend comes with no real surprises. Somehow along the way I had picked up a cold from someone. I don't want to point any fingers but someone did shake my hand and explain to me how they were sick all week. To that person, thanks a mil brutha, now I got this bloody cold.
It was bound to happen one way or another. It's the sickness time of year.
There was a fair number of MancScum supporters out this weekend, which was nice to see. It wasn't even a big game or anything, even a newer face. It's always good when someone new comes in and just jumps right in, like they belong; none of this trying hard to impress drek or any sort of thing like that. Hop up on a couch/stool or what have you, give a friendly nod and on with the football. Too bad everyone can't be like that.
I was going to do a whole rant about the sexism thing. The female linesman and what the two numptys on Sky had said. Honestly, it's been beaten to death already. The problem is inherent in the system, not to paraphrase Monty Python, but it is.
There is no need for the degradation of anyone based on gender, race, sexual or religious preference. It should be about doing the job. Apparently, the young woman in question does her job better than most of the men out there. I would like to add a plus she's much better looking but that just adds to the sexism fire.
I myself can often give into lad culture as well. I'm not going to pretend to be holier than thou or anything like that. However, in my heart of hearts, the referee is still a bastard, the linesman/woman is blind and Chelsea is a bunch of pillow-biting tossers.
In all seriousness though, there is no room for what those announcers did. There is no room for anything like that.
Is it destroying football?
That I do not know because it's been there and is still an ugly mark upon it's face.
Is there an easy solution?
No, there is never an easy solution.
Well what should we do?
Start subtly reminding everyone that they are probably an asshole, just like everyone else and get on with it. It's unnecessary to continue with ideas like that in this century. Whether the person is man/woman/black/white/Muslim/Hindu or whatever they may be; It has no bearing on the scoreline, well, unless the linesman/woman is truly blind.
~LeChat
10 January 2011
ManCity at Home (EPL) Leeds at Home (FA)
January and the games come fast and furious, however the blog comes slow and almost on-time. If you haven't noticed, it's easier for me to just combine the mid-weeks in with the weekend games. Keeping up is a test of my mental capacity right now and to be honest I just don't feel like it. This is a work of love and inspiration so it comes when it comes.
Now check these apples. The mid-week affair left little to be desired. I know there were plenty of arguments from all sides. I believe ACMilan even called me to give me his two lire about the game.
So where was I? Oh ManShitty came and played like their namesake, well shitty. Shut the door, parked the bus, acted Italian, however you want to say it. Mind you, no disrespect to the Italians but they do play a good defensive game... almost too good.
And that about sums it up. It was a whole lot of nothing. Nil-NIL
The weekend looked more promising, but I should never get my hopes up. I do follow the Arsenal and have been following them for 20 odd years too long to be deceived by what looks like a skip through the park.
Leeds has always been a team that gives issues. Way back when they were in the olde Division 1, they were a team that caused problems. *cue grainy film clip*
I wasn't feeling up for going to the pub and took in the game on the laptop from my very warm bed. I must say, it was a good idea. Just closed my eyes and listened to it like an old radio show.
Saturday evening, Station played for my friend Matt's benefit. We were the last band so most people had left before we started playing. Oh wells, MiniScouse had shown up and we were talking about the Liverpool United cup tie.
There was a side bet made that if Liverpool didn't lose, I'd get to punch her in the face. Something I was looking forward to in more of a non-serious way. She was being very pessimistic and that is only reserved for Gooners and Brummies. Wouldn't you just be depressed if you were a Brummie?
By the way, let's talk about a proper surprise or well not really a surprise but Stevanage with a victory over Newcastle. I'm still pissed at Newcastle for getting rid of a decent bloke for whatever they put in his place. OH I know exactly what it is but really, was it worth it now? Talk about shit owners.
It reminds me of what was said about the African teams at WC2010 and well all previous World Cups. They have this manager, a good manager knows the team well, gets them through Africa Nations, gets them through Cup qualifiers and looks to give them a good run at the cup and maybe even the finals.
So what do they do when they get ready to go to the group stages. They replace him some Dutch twat that doesn't know a hippo from rhino and thinks that those drums sound really scary like in a movie with cannibals.
Seriously if the man had been there from the beginning, built the team, had dinner with the midfielders and their families, knows that the striker prefers Congolese rap music as opposed to Somali pirate songs, then I'd have no problem with it.
However, it never happens that way. Only a few managers are allowed to build, shape and mold a team. It's not surprising that teams look to have promise and fail, never to meet any kind of potential or consistency, even if that consistency is finishing mid-table year in and year out.
Whatever, fuck it.
~LeChat
(musical finish - Life's Lonely Road by Gregory Isaacs)
Now check these apples. The mid-week affair left little to be desired. I know there were plenty of arguments from all sides. I believe ACMilan even called me to give me his two lire about the game.
(musical interlude - Cloud 9 by Bob Marley followed with)
(Country Roads by Toots and The Maytals)
So where was I? Oh ManShitty came and played like their namesake, well shitty. Shut the door, parked the bus, acted Italian, however you want to say it. Mind you, no disrespect to the Italians but they do play a good defensive game... almost too good.
And that about sums it up. It was a whole lot of nothing. Nil-NIL
The weekend looked more promising, but I should never get my hopes up. I do follow the Arsenal and have been following them for 20 odd years too long to be deceived by what looks like a skip through the park.
Leeds has always been a team that gives issues. Way back when they were in the olde Division 1, they were a team that caused problems. *cue grainy film clip*
I wasn't feeling up for going to the pub and took in the game on the laptop from my very warm bed. I must say, it was a good idea. Just closed my eyes and listened to it like an old radio show.
Saturday evening, Station played for my friend Matt's benefit. We were the last band so most people had left before we started playing. Oh wells, MiniScouse had shown up and we were talking about the Liverpool United cup tie.
There was a side bet made that if Liverpool didn't lose, I'd get to punch her in the face. Something I was looking forward to in more of a non-serious way. She was being very pessimistic and that is only reserved for Gooners and Brummies. Wouldn't you just be depressed if you were a Brummie?
(musical interlude - Day On The Town by Madness)
By the way, let's talk about a proper surprise or well not really a surprise but Stevanage with a victory over Newcastle. I'm still pissed at Newcastle for getting rid of a decent bloke for whatever they put in his place. OH I know exactly what it is but really, was it worth it now? Talk about shit owners.
It reminds me of what was said about the African teams at WC2010 and well all previous World Cups. They have this manager, a good manager knows the team well, gets them through Africa Nations, gets them through Cup qualifiers and looks to give them a good run at the cup and maybe even the finals.
So what do they do when they get ready to go to the group stages. They replace him some Dutch twat that doesn't know a hippo from rhino and thinks that those drums sound really scary like in a movie with cannibals.
Seriously if the man had been there from the beginning, built the team, had dinner with the midfielders and their families, knows that the striker prefers Congolese rap music as opposed to Somali pirate songs, then I'd have no problem with it.
However, it never happens that way. Only a few managers are allowed to build, shape and mold a team. It's not surprising that teams look to have promise and fail, never to meet any kind of potential or consistency, even if that consistency is finishing mid-table year in and year out.
Whatever, fuck it.
~LeChat
(musical finish - Life's Lonely Road by Gregory Isaacs)
14 December 2010
United Away and the forgotten CL
Yes, that's right. I forgot the Champions League-midweek the week before. It didn't really matter much anyways. There wasn't much to say about it. It was just another game that took way too long to finish. So let's just put that to rest and on to more recent things.
I dropped down the pub on Saturday for the Liverpool match at the behest of ScouseDrummer. I wasn't going to, just because I was watching the Habs the night before lose to Detroit. So I eyed up the weekend as not to have to pay attention to any sport, for that matter.
It was also the first time I seen ManCity himself after the Station show. He survived and I think made an impression on the local punk crowd that frequents the bar we play at on occasion. It was nice of him to show up and support.
Anyways, Saturday I sat along the back bench with ScouseDrummer and family, hoping for a Newcastle loss, just because they had fired Chris Hughton, for doing a respectable job. I hate to say I would rather see them dive into the relegation zone but they did look sharp against Liverpool.
However, keeping in mind, they were still running under the Hughton formula. The genius he is, Pardew hasn't been able to instill his special brand of stupidity. HEY didn't he manage WestHam before the slippage?
Back to proper football though, not that Newcastle - Scouse wasn't proper but it wasn't ManScum - Arsenal. I think the week/weekend prior I kept getting asked my opinion on the thing. In my heart of hearts I knew what the result would be but I just kept saying, "we will see, we will see."
I'm not saying my beloved club was going to lose, but I can at least be honest about football. This season, and as pointed out in the Guardian, the last 7 meetings between the Arsenal and ManScum or Chelski; the Arsenal has failed to come away with 3 points.
That's called reality. With the tools in the shed, it is possible, but there's this consistency that seems to be lacking, an end product. Reminds me of my project for Senior seminar at University. I did enough, with the right tools to come away with something that was more than passable, however it still remains an unfinished body of work.
It wasn't a training ground project, as Evra (that gape hole) would have you think, but it wasn't the quality finished project which was envisioned. That's the reality when we look at Ashburton Grove for the moment.
The ball can be stroked along the carpet in the most smooth and silky way but when the end product is not being produced, it's only nice. Not great, not wonderful, not enough to really not worry about being 2-nil up.
LilWestCoastGooner had sent me a few messages about my depressive ways at looking at the club recently. It's not really depressive but I've seen this spell before; I've lived through it, around the time I first started supporting. It came again a few years after Graham took over. It started to hit right before the "Invincibles" season. It just exists.
United has always been a hard club to deal with in the Wenger/Fergie era. I don't see much changing, as they are men cut from the same cloth, managing teams with like dispositions when it comes to building, promoting instead of buying and replacing like a sidewalk whore does with her diaphragms.
Give me 3 more weekends of Arsenal - ManScum! I'll watch it over and over.
~LeChat
I dropped down the pub on Saturday for the Liverpool match at the behest of ScouseDrummer. I wasn't going to, just because I was watching the Habs the night before lose to Detroit. So I eyed up the weekend as not to have to pay attention to any sport, for that matter.
It was also the first time I seen ManCity himself after the Station show. He survived and I think made an impression on the local punk crowd that frequents the bar we play at on occasion. It was nice of him to show up and support.
Anyways, Saturday I sat along the back bench with ScouseDrummer and family, hoping for a Newcastle loss, just because they had fired Chris Hughton, for doing a respectable job. I hate to say I would rather see them dive into the relegation zone but they did look sharp against Liverpool.
However, keeping in mind, they were still running under the Hughton formula. The genius he is, Pardew hasn't been able to instill his special brand of stupidity. HEY didn't he manage WestHam before the slippage?
In the 2006–07 season Pardew was criticised after seeing West Ham through their worst run of defeats in over 70 years which included an exit from the UEFA Cup to Palermo in the very first round[10] and a League Cup defeat to Chesterfield. [11]Thank you Wikipedia. I only use this to prove a point. Honestly, Hughton didn't deserve to be treated like that. So in short, unlucky Hughton and an unlucky Liverpool.
Back to proper football though, not that Newcastle - Scouse wasn't proper but it wasn't ManScum - Arsenal. I think the week/weekend prior I kept getting asked my opinion on the thing. In my heart of hearts I knew what the result would be but I just kept saying, "we will see, we will see."
I'm not saying my beloved club was going to lose, but I can at least be honest about football. This season, and as pointed out in the Guardian, the last 7 meetings between the Arsenal and ManScum or Chelski; the Arsenal has failed to come away with 3 points.
That's called reality. With the tools in the shed, it is possible, but there's this consistency that seems to be lacking, an end product. Reminds me of my project for Senior seminar at University. I did enough, with the right tools to come away with something that was more than passable, however it still remains an unfinished body of work.
It wasn't a training ground project, as Evra (that gape hole) would have you think, but it wasn't the quality finished project which was envisioned. That's the reality when we look at Ashburton Grove for the moment.
The ball can be stroked along the carpet in the most smooth and silky way but when the end product is not being produced, it's only nice. Not great, not wonderful, not enough to really not worry about being 2-nil up.
LilWestCoastGooner had sent me a few messages about my depressive ways at looking at the club recently. It's not really depressive but I've seen this spell before; I've lived through it, around the time I first started supporting. It came again a few years after Graham took over. It started to hit right before the "Invincibles" season. It just exists.
United has always been a hard club to deal with in the Wenger/Fergie era. I don't see much changing, as they are men cut from the same cloth, managing teams with like dispositions when it comes to building, promoting instead of buying and replacing like a sidewalk whore does with her diaphragms.
Give me 3 more weekends of Arsenal - ManScum! I'll watch it over and over.
~LeChat
01 December 2010
Wigan at home (Carling Cup)
Another mid-week gone by and what is there to say? Not much I suppose. As usual I found myself dealing with work stuff. Good thing is, the phone lines went down, so most of the morning was spent actually doing my job, rather than returning calls from over-needy clients.
ArseBob and PastryMan had some little bet going on FB about starting lineups. I popped my head in on it but wasn't really up for the challenge. I'm not that good at picking starting lineups. Years and years of ChampMan has taught me that. One day Bristol City will be the powerhouse team, with my cyber-self as manager.
So I had the gamecast all set up at work. Then like 101 things happened and I totally forgot about it. The more annoying thing, at least at the time, was the Guardian had the play by play only for the MancScum game. In the end however, it turned out to be a boon rather than a bust.
WestHam had it's way with United like Giggs on a sheep farm. At least that's the analogy I was given. I actually didn't find out the final tally until I was about to leave work. The same time I remembered I had the gamecast going on for the Arsenal match.
Yes, that's right, I can be brain dead at times. It just happens.
All in all, with a nice little berth into the semi-finals of the Carling, I can be at least a tad bit happy for the moment.
~LeChat
ArseBob and PastryMan had some little bet going on FB about starting lineups. I popped my head in on it but wasn't really up for the challenge. I'm not that good at picking starting lineups. Years and years of ChampMan has taught me that. One day Bristol City will be the powerhouse team, with my cyber-self as manager.
So I had the gamecast all set up at work. Then like 101 things happened and I totally forgot about it. The more annoying thing, at least at the time, was the Guardian had the play by play only for the MancScum game. In the end however, it turned out to be a boon rather than a bust.
WestHam had it's way with United like Giggs on a sheep farm. At least that's the analogy I was given. I actually didn't find out the final tally until I was about to leave work. The same time I remembered I had the gamecast going on for the Arsenal match.
Yes, that's right, I can be brain dead at times. It just happens.
All in all, with a nice little berth into the semi-finals of the Carling, I can be at least a tad bit happy for the moment.
~LeChat
29 November 2010
Villa Away
The weekend was shaping up to be a bad case of déjà vu. Or I should say more like a nightmare experience all around, but it ended up being just really tame. It was a holiday weekend here, so that meant it was extra long.
Thursday, also known as (American) Thanksgiving, was a bit a strange to begin with. Usually there is a fair number of family around but this year that seemed to be lacking. I spent most of the day pretending to know what I was talking about when it came to American Football. My mother joked with me and reminded me that I never was a big fan of the sport anyways.
I decided to ditch the family festivity and headed to the pub for a couple of drinks. SlainteLOSC had sent out a message earlier about being down there for the evening, so I decided to drop by and say hi. For as dead as the point looked, there were plenty of punters milling around the pub that evening. No one special, just completely random.
Friday I had a show so kept a low profile most of the day. I made a decision to buy a new bass, but I haven't felt like whipping out the card and actually paying for it. For those who care, 5 string - fretless.
Station had a mediocre show. We got our new singer up to speed, sort of burn or blaze. Our previous singer had caught the baby disease and his (wife) had him on lockdown. For a while, we had two singers which was an interesting dynamic.
There's another show coming up this Saturday, which is ScouseDrummer's birthday show. That should be pretty good, and the new singer should be fitting in much better now that the first jitters are out.
Mentioning Saturdays, this past one was a scare and a half for the boys in red and white. I don't really like this whole going 2-nil into the second half and letting the opposition take over the game. IF Villa had been a better squad then we'd be in some trouble.
I stayed around the pub for a bit, as Sheffield's parents were in town. I hadn't seen them since the wedding and they are great people. Sheffield and I had a bit of a clockwatch going on as well. His club was playing my lower division club, Bristol City. Vinnie had also stopped down and was streaming the Reading game.
It was a great reunion in some ways. Plus we did have a bit of entertainment by way of the MancScum game. The ManShitty game on the other hand, well, I guess shitty about explains it.
I took my leave after the games in order to get some much needed rest. It was becoming a much longer weekend without much sleep. Thank god I didn't try and deal with the shopping stupidity that affects this country. I can't believe what people will do for a 50 cent discount on shit they don't really need.
I'm too annoyed about it to rant at the moment. I'll just leave it.
OH Barça, how I adore you. Not only did one of your crews throw rocks at REAL Facist's motorbus but you did it on the field. BRILLIANT!
~LeChat
Thursday, also known as (American) Thanksgiving, was a bit a strange to begin with. Usually there is a fair number of family around but this year that seemed to be lacking. I spent most of the day pretending to know what I was talking about when it came to American Football. My mother joked with me and reminded me that I never was a big fan of the sport anyways.
I decided to ditch the family festivity and headed to the pub for a couple of drinks. SlainteLOSC had sent out a message earlier about being down there for the evening, so I decided to drop by and say hi. For as dead as the point looked, there were plenty of punters milling around the pub that evening. No one special, just completely random.
Friday I had a show so kept a low profile most of the day. I made a decision to buy a new bass, but I haven't felt like whipping out the card and actually paying for it. For those who care, 5 string - fretless.
Station had a mediocre show. We got our new singer up to speed, sort of burn or blaze. Our previous singer had caught the baby disease and his (wife) had him on lockdown. For a while, we had two singers which was an interesting dynamic.
There's another show coming up this Saturday, which is ScouseDrummer's birthday show. That should be pretty good, and the new singer should be fitting in much better now that the first jitters are out.
Mentioning Saturdays, this past one was a scare and a half for the boys in red and white. I don't really like this whole going 2-nil into the second half and letting the opposition take over the game. IF Villa had been a better squad then we'd be in some trouble.
I stayed around the pub for a bit, as Sheffield's parents were in town. I hadn't seen them since the wedding and they are great people. Sheffield and I had a bit of a clockwatch going on as well. His club was playing my lower division club, Bristol City. Vinnie had also stopped down and was streaming the Reading game.
It was a great reunion in some ways. Plus we did have a bit of entertainment by way of the MancScum game. The ManShitty game on the other hand, well, I guess shitty about explains it.
I took my leave after the games in order to get some much needed rest. It was becoming a much longer weekend without much sleep. Thank god I didn't try and deal with the shopping stupidity that affects this country. I can't believe what people will do for a 50 cent discount on shit they don't really need.
I'm too annoyed about it to rant at the moment. I'll just leave it.
OH Barça, how I adore you. Not only did one of your crews throw rocks at REAL Facist's motorbus but you did it on the field. BRILLIANT!
~LeChat
01 November 2010
Newcastle Away (Carling) and West Ham at Home
I am doing the double, as mid-week I had little to say. Mind you I did have healthy fear of Newcastle away but it was much ado about nothing. For once, I was able to catch the second half of a mid-week.
The night before was the annual awards ceremony for my work. We had a certain gentleman who was fired from NPR just days before speaking. Long story short, the boss said we could either come in late or leave early the next day. I prefer leaving early in general.
I made it home to catch the second half. Right good timing. At one point I sent littleblondiegooner a text, to which she replied with pure vitriol and venom. I don't know but I think being in Beverly Hills affected her somehow. Not my fault you're on the west coast. The text simply stated BENDTNER by the way.
Onward ho towards the Premiership.
Saturday was spent as many other Saturdays, with the exception of it being the day before Halloween. Which, by the way, is not the greatest of holidays for black cats as they tend to be tortured and killed around this time of year by true assholes.
ManShitty, Chelski and the Arsenal all had games on at the same time so it was a battle of wills for the main screen. ManCityhimself offered up for the Arsenal crowd, as he thought it would be the better game. I didn't really care and conceded since there were definitely going to be more of them than us. No Chelski had shown up at this point.
HalfArseDean popped in wearing an Incredibles costume. I didn't even recognize him at first as he had this big afro wig on his usually shaven head. The pub started to fill up slowly, mostly Arsenal and the rest of ManCity.
Right before kick off the Chelski boys rolled in with big grins and their usual jovial spirits. They stood about for a few minutes and found that their game had been relegated to the back. Mind, they were a bit crossed and decided to hump it upstairs.
I have to admit the ManShitty game was actually pretty enjoyable. It's going to be sad when they aren't in Europe. Um, nevermind, I lied as I won't be sad. Big team that one is, right. Right?!
Actually just got done reading an article about how they are becoming as much of a threat as MancScum. It's not that important of an article, so I'm not going to link it. Mentioning MancScum however reminds me of that Nani goal.
That goal has received almost as much attention as some others, which we won't be mentioning. Really it's not that big of a deal, is it?
Play to the whistle, the mantra that is drilled into as a 6 year old on a chilly rainy fall morning, wherever it is you were. PLAY TO THE WHISTLE!
One of the Guardian blogs quoted a Graham Poll Daily Mail column with this diddy.
Well no one really likes Graham Poll but he does make some sense here. You don't have to like him to agree with him.
It's like the conversation I was having with the Grue about German engineering and science in the early 20th century. While that end of the deal was pretty good, the engineering and technology bit; the shit that surrounded regarding the treatment of non-German peoples really screwed the whole pooch, inside out and backwards.
Seriously, good things from bad people, it really does happen that way sometimes. Not that Graham Poll is Hitler or anything like that, please don't get me wrong on that one. But there's an actual poll or was on Monday about whether the refs are biased for MancScum.
It wasn't an overwhelming majority who believed so but it was still a majority. A poll that has mysteriously disappeared, unlike Graham Poll.
Spooky, isn't it.
~LeChat
The night before was the annual awards ceremony for my work. We had a certain gentleman who was fired from NPR just days before speaking. Long story short, the boss said we could either come in late or leave early the next day. I prefer leaving early in general.
I made it home to catch the second half. Right good timing. At one point I sent littleblondiegooner a text, to which she replied with pure vitriol and venom. I don't know but I think being in Beverly Hills affected her somehow. Not my fault you're on the west coast. The text simply stated BENDTNER by the way.
Onward ho towards the Premiership.
Saturday was spent as many other Saturdays, with the exception of it being the day before Halloween. Which, by the way, is not the greatest of holidays for black cats as they tend to be tortured and killed around this time of year by true assholes.
ManShitty, Chelski and the Arsenal all had games on at the same time so it was a battle of wills for the main screen. ManCityhimself offered up for the Arsenal crowd, as he thought it would be the better game. I didn't really care and conceded since there were definitely going to be more of them than us. No Chelski had shown up at this point.
HalfArseDean popped in wearing an Incredibles costume. I didn't even recognize him at first as he had this big afro wig on his usually shaven head. The pub started to fill up slowly, mostly Arsenal and the rest of ManCity.
Right before kick off the Chelski boys rolled in with big grins and their usual jovial spirits. They stood about for a few minutes and found that their game had been relegated to the back. Mind, they were a bit crossed and decided to hump it upstairs.
I have to admit the ManShitty game was actually pretty enjoyable. It's going to be sad when they aren't in Europe. Um, nevermind, I lied as I won't be sad. Big team that one is, right. Right?!
Actually just got done reading an article about how they are becoming as much of a threat as MancScum. It's not that important of an article, so I'm not going to link it. Mentioning MancScum however reminds me of that Nani goal.
That goal has received almost as much attention as some others, which we won't be mentioning. Really it's not that big of a deal, is it?
Play to the whistle, the mantra that is drilled into as a 6 year old on a chilly rainy fall morning, wherever it is you were. PLAY TO THE WHISTLE!
One of the Guardian blogs quoted a Graham Poll Daily Mail column with this diddy.
Unusually this situation had two alternative endings, both right in law - let the goal stand or give a free-kick for the missed handball after consultation with Beck. Personally I would have done the latter. Of course that would have saved Gomes the embarrassment that his stupidity perhaps deserved.
Well no one really likes Graham Poll but he does make some sense here. You don't have to like him to agree with him.
It's like the conversation I was having with the Grue about German engineering and science in the early 20th century. While that end of the deal was pretty good, the engineering and technology bit; the shit that surrounded regarding the treatment of non-German peoples really screwed the whole pooch, inside out and backwards.
Seriously, good things from bad people, it really does happen that way sometimes. Not that Graham Poll is Hitler or anything like that, please don't get me wrong on that one. But there's an actual poll or was on Monday about whether the refs are biased for MancScum.
It wasn't an overwhelming majority who believed so but it was still a majority. A poll that has mysteriously disappeared, unlike Graham Poll.
Spooky, isn't it.
~LeChat
25 October 2010
Man City Away
11 men went to play.. went to play at City!
Ah, what a great way to end the week. THREE points, unbelievable three points but three points none the less. I was convinced of the draw, even after City went down a man. Statistics has it that once a team goes down, usually the team with advantage has a hard time getting to goal.
However, like everything else, the Arsenal flaunts its shoulders against all odds. Watching the boys get out there and start kicking back, as well as gently caressing the ball along the pitch in that silky smooth way was a joy.
I swear a slight tear formed in my eye as this was starting to look like the team of old. By old, I mean even before Wenger was a household name in Islington. Ye Olde Arsenal was a tough nugget, hated throughout the league, known for kicking the sin out of all heretics and punching one in before the 90 was up.
I could wax on and on about this and that, about when George Graham took over, about when Wenger took over and changed the league, about the emergence of unknowns to penultimate super stardom, about the nastiness given to the club in the media; YEARS and years of it.
Now it looks as if a perfect storm of good ol'English stick a boot in with the smooth flavour of continental passing and speed of fleet footed footballers on beautifully manicured pitches has come to fruition.
I can really only get into the Sunday action at the pub though. Saturday was spent at my cousin's wedding. I watched the morning games from bed or on the tubes. I did download the Football Manager demo, which is pure class. If you ever were a proponent of the old SI Champ Manager, then this is the series you want to play.
So Sunday it is, made it down for the second half of the ManYoo game, which I paid about five minutes of attention to. I think I was talking to the Deputy about food or something, when the Sheriff turned around and said one of the best lines of the week.
YES a direct quote. He tried to recover but I know what I heard. It kind of reminded me of this picture.
Fine, don't get all mad at me but it's the truth. Now personally I have no problems with you loving on each other like so, that's all well and good. I mean didn't the Greeks do that as well? Just keep it in Manchester.
Anyways, by the time the ManShitty game came on, ManCity himself was quite a few sheets to the wind. He reminded me of the gentleman's wager we had going on and was proper fired up for the match. Too bad it wasn't going to be his day. Originally he was going to head to the bistro to cause a riot but he didn't feel like dealing with the American Football traffic on the south-side.
There was a good crowd on hand for both clubs, which was good to see. HalfArseDean was slumped in the corner being angry. I swear it's quite unusual for him. Myself, or so ManCity himself kept telling me, was out of sorts as well. I don't know.. I think my cousin's wedding killed my spirit. It's the middle of the first half of the football season and you're going to get married. WHAT? Anyways that's all said and done.
So today as I was doing my daily perusal of the Guardian. I found this equally brilliant quote. Now me and Michel P aren't always on the same side of the ball but this is one issue I think we both agree on. I'm just going to totally lift it, damn you copyright.
The one true beauty in football is the flow of the game, end to end. The rules, as the Argentines and Italians would say, are a mere suggestion. It is possibly one of the most natural of all the regulated sports, in my opinion.
Joga Bonito?
~LeChat
Ah, what a great way to end the week. THREE points, unbelievable three points but three points none the less. I was convinced of the draw, even after City went down a man. Statistics has it that once a team goes down, usually the team with advantage has a hard time getting to goal.
However, like everything else, the Arsenal flaunts its shoulders against all odds. Watching the boys get out there and start kicking back, as well as gently caressing the ball along the pitch in that silky smooth way was a joy.
I swear a slight tear formed in my eye as this was starting to look like the team of old. By old, I mean even before Wenger was a household name in Islington. Ye Olde Arsenal was a tough nugget, hated throughout the league, known for kicking the sin out of all heretics and punching one in before the 90 was up.
I could wax on and on about this and that, about when George Graham took over, about when Wenger took over and changed the league, about the emergence of unknowns to penultimate super stardom, about the nastiness given to the club in the media; YEARS and years of it.
Now it looks as if a perfect storm of good ol'English stick a boot in with the smooth flavour of continental passing and speed of fleet footed footballers on beautifully manicured pitches has come to fruition.
I can really only get into the Sunday action at the pub though. Saturday was spent at my cousin's wedding. I watched the morning games from bed or on the tubes. I did download the Football Manager demo, which is pure class. If you ever were a proponent of the old SI Champ Manager, then this is the series you want to play.
So Sunday it is, made it down for the second half of the ManYoo game, which I paid about five minutes of attention to. I think I was talking to the Deputy about food or something, when the Sheriff turned around and said one of the best lines of the week.
I just love Gary Neville's balls.
YES a direct quote. He tried to recover but I know what I heard. It kind of reminded me of this picture.
Classic! Need a say more? Sorry Sheriff, told you it was blog worthy and so is that picture. I think it's from one of the cups but I can't remember I must have used it in a previous blog. It just goes to prove something, doesn't it.
(self edit due to the amount of emo suicides lately, don't want to be blamed)
(self edit due to the amount of emo suicides lately, don't want to be blamed)
Fine, don't get all mad at me but it's the truth. Now personally I have no problems with you loving on each other like so, that's all well and good. I mean didn't the Greeks do that as well? Just keep it in Manchester.
Anyways, by the time the ManShitty game came on, ManCity himself was quite a few sheets to the wind. He reminded me of the gentleman's wager we had going on and was proper fired up for the match. Too bad it wasn't going to be his day. Originally he was going to head to the bistro to cause a riot but he didn't feel like dealing with the American Football traffic on the south-side.
There was a good crowd on hand for both clubs, which was good to see. HalfArseDean was slumped in the corner being angry. I swear it's quite unusual for him. Myself, or so ManCity himself kept telling me, was out of sorts as well. I don't know.. I think my cousin's wedding killed my spirit. It's the middle of the first half of the football season and you're going to get married. WHAT? Anyways that's all said and done.
So today as I was doing my daily perusal of the Guardian. I found this equally brilliant quote. Now me and Michel P aren't always on the same side of the ball but this is one issue I think we both agree on. I'm just going to totally lift it, damn you copyright.
Uefa's president, Michel Platini, has claimed introducing goal-line technology will lead to "PlayStation football" but admits that referees have to be masochists to cope with all the criticism thrown at them.He goes on to say;
One referee is not enough, not in the modern era where you have 20 cameras. It is unfair: the cameras can see everything but the referee only has one pair of eyes. Every time he makes a mistake, those cameras are there to focus on it.Which, like I said, I completely agree with. His idea is to put goal line assistants, right behind the net. While it may be better on paper than actually in practice, I think it's not a bad idea. Ice hockey has something similar going on and it seems to work out, at least they used to, I know they review stuff every now and again but then again Ice Hockey has more play stoppages than Football.
The one true beauty in football is the flow of the game, end to end. The rules, as the Argentines and Italians would say, are a mere suggestion. It is possibly one of the most natural of all the regulated sports, in my opinion.
Joga Bonito?
~LeChat
18 October 2010
Birmingham at HOME
Suffice us to say, I just wanted to begin with that phrase. There's nothing in it, kind of like the bleating over Chamakah's penalty...there was nothing in it.
Friday
I usually don't start with my Friday revelry but I must say, the bandmates and myself found our way to Zella's (correct my spelling if needed). It's a rather nice, off the beaten path type of place in the SouthWest. The one thing I will say is definitely good, besides the lack of crappy of people, is the food. Seriously had a wonderful capri sandwich with prosciutto. I've been into eating Italian sandwiches lately, not sure why though.
Saturday
The morning started off well enough. Alright, let's say my phenomenal driving abilities and a pinch of luck allowed me to drive from one side of the city to the other with only a modicum of hiccups.
Yes the ever city clogging marathon event was occurring. I had words with one of the Arsenal faithful about heading down and she was saying it was probably a no go because of that. In my brief memory, I think the Arsenal have had games on marathon day for the last couple of years. Plus I do enjoy finding new routes and testing my tetris like mind upon the nonsensical patterns of the charmed city.
In short, it took me about 10 extra minutes, because of one wrong turn down the road of hope, which resulted in deft manoeuvre that only the Transporter is capable of. A quick trip down the expressway, double back along to Broadway and getting the wave through from the police cadet. Package delivered, i.e. myself.
The pub, of course was low on people, due to the above mentioned marathon. After a certain hour, it's about gridlock, so trip planning is crucial. However, that is not to say there weren't quite a few in there. It was a variety pack of supporters.
HalfArseDean made it in and was not his usual self. I think he threw around a cup of tea, cursed out someone and possibly even ran around with his pants about his ankles. Alright none of that actually happened, well except for the tea part but he wasn't in a good mood.
I mentioned to him that my disillusionment must be rubbing off on him. His reply was something along the lines of "Nah, people are just not right." I'm paraphrasing of course but you get the gist of it.
Later on, A Certain Scouser and the LondonTiger showed up. It was good to see him as he had been doing somethings back home for a bit. Klank and MiniMo came stumbling in for the Chelski match. They were their usually lovable selves.
Sunday
Well it was a different day to begin with all together. No marathon, just the good enjoyment of the Battle o'Scouse. A few of the regulars showed up, eventhough it may not have been their match, it's still a big match.
While I can't say I was wholly satisfied with the result. It was nice to give it out to the Red Scouse. I was suprised by the actual number of Toffees in the place though. They seem to be multiplying as well.
Mentioning the roaches now known as ManShitty, they had a great showing. A few new faces even unrelated to ManCity himself. I think they are doing a great job at promoting the pub, which is always welcomed. There was even a guy who from New York who had left a wedding so he could catch the game. Much props to him, whoever he was... he was scum anyway.
MONDAY!
! YES !
I'm including a MONDAY. If you haven't heard, Shrek Rooney is a bit perturbed at old red nose. He may be walking and I wonder to where? It would be nice for him to return to Everton but I think he's going to end up overseas. Let's just see.
~LeChat
Friday
I usually don't start with my Friday revelry but I must say, the bandmates and myself found our way to Zella's (correct my spelling if needed). It's a rather nice, off the beaten path type of place in the SouthWest. The one thing I will say is definitely good, besides the lack of crappy of people, is the food. Seriously had a wonderful capri sandwich with prosciutto. I've been into eating Italian sandwiches lately, not sure why though.
Saturday
The morning started off well enough. Alright, let's say my phenomenal driving abilities and a pinch of luck allowed me to drive from one side of the city to the other with only a modicum of hiccups.
Yes the ever city clogging marathon event was occurring. I had words with one of the Arsenal faithful about heading down and she was saying it was probably a no go because of that. In my brief memory, I think the Arsenal have had games on marathon day for the last couple of years. Plus I do enjoy finding new routes and testing my tetris like mind upon the nonsensical patterns of the charmed city.
In short, it took me about 10 extra minutes, because of one wrong turn down the road of hope, which resulted in deft manoeuvre that only the Transporter is capable of. A quick trip down the expressway, double back along to Broadway and getting the wave through from the police cadet. Package delivered, i.e. myself.
The pub, of course was low on people, due to the above mentioned marathon. After a certain hour, it's about gridlock, so trip planning is crucial. However, that is not to say there weren't quite a few in there. It was a variety pack of supporters.
HalfArseDean made it in and was not his usual self. I think he threw around a cup of tea, cursed out someone and possibly even ran around with his pants about his ankles. Alright none of that actually happened, well except for the tea part but he wasn't in a good mood.
I mentioned to him that my disillusionment must be rubbing off on him. His reply was something along the lines of "Nah, people are just not right." I'm paraphrasing of course but you get the gist of it.
Later on, A Certain Scouser and the LondonTiger showed up. It was good to see him as he had been doing somethings back home for a bit. Klank and MiniMo came stumbling in for the Chelski match. They were their usually lovable selves.
Sunday
Well it was a different day to begin with all together. No marathon, just the good enjoyment of the Battle o'Scouse. A few of the regulars showed up, eventhough it may not have been their match, it's still a big match.
While I can't say I was wholly satisfied with the result. It was nice to give it out to the Red Scouse. I was suprised by the actual number of Toffees in the place though. They seem to be multiplying as well.
Mentioning the roaches now known as ManShitty, they had a great showing. A few new faces even unrelated to ManCity himself. I think they are doing a great job at promoting the pub, which is always welcomed. There was even a guy who from New York who had left a wedding so he could catch the game. Much props to him, whoever he was... he was scum anyway.
MONDAY!
! YES !
I'm including a MONDAY. If you haven't heard, Shrek Rooney is a bit perturbed at old red nose. He may be walking and I wonder to where? It would be nice for him to return to Everton but I think he's going to end up overseas. Let's just see.
~LeChat
21 September 2010
Sunderland Away then Spurs Away (Carling)
In not keeping with traditions, I'm writing this today/night. The usual Monday rants got bumped due to me laying in bed with the covers pulled over my head and feeling like some miniature mountain climber was using my esophagus as his Mount Everest.
I am not a big fan of internal pain. External pain, the stuff you can see what's going on, like a skinned up knee or what have you. I can even deal with the pain of a bruise that you get from when someone kicks you in the shin, cause you know what caused it.
I just can't deal with that weird internal stuff caused by whatever flying rhino hypno virus decides to deal you. Call it what you will but all in all the common cold sucks beans.
You know things are just going along fine, just like Saturday. Things are going along fine, never mind the missed penalty. Then all of the sudden, in the 94th minute, you're struck out of nowhere. There is nothing to do but lay under the covers and wish it all away.
Sunday, I personally was not in a cheerful mode. I decided to get up early and make my way to the Manchester - Liverpool tie. There were times I wish I had just stayed in bed. The only consolation to the whole effort was a very beautiful goal by a vampire looking of a man.
I think it was pure dumb luck that I walked back into the pub and glanced at the screen to see it happen in real time. A volley, a touch and a drop of the shoulder putting the ball over his head, off the cross bar and across the line.
Pure beauty. It's what made the other 90 minutes worth sitting through.
All I can say is that while we can watch a player on match day play absolutely horrid, we never have a clue on why the manager keeps picking him. We pray and hope that the boss knows what he's doing but we question it. We all do.
Then one play, amongst the others, shines a brilliant light through the fog that has obfuscated our vision and gives us a glimpse of what the manager sees day in and day out.
Since, I'm cheating a bit and doubling up. All I really have to say about S*urs right now is fuck off. Seriously... fuck off. I won't get to see the highlights until later and frankly knowing the scoreline. I really don't care.
Scum 1 - Gunners 4
It really would be nice if they would just fuck off. Seriously... fuck off.
~LeChat
I am not a big fan of internal pain. External pain, the stuff you can see what's going on, like a skinned up knee or what have you. I can even deal with the pain of a bruise that you get from when someone kicks you in the shin, cause you know what caused it.
I just can't deal with that weird internal stuff caused by whatever flying rhino hypno virus decides to deal you. Call it what you will but all in all the common cold sucks beans.
You know things are just going along fine, just like Saturday. Things are going along fine, never mind the missed penalty. Then all of the sudden, in the 94th minute, you're struck out of nowhere. There is nothing to do but lay under the covers and wish it all away.
Sunday, I personally was not in a cheerful mode. I decided to get up early and make my way to the Manchester - Liverpool tie. There were times I wish I had just stayed in bed. The only consolation to the whole effort was a very beautiful goal by a vampire looking of a man.
I think it was pure dumb luck that I walked back into the pub and glanced at the screen to see it happen in real time. A volley, a touch and a drop of the shoulder putting the ball over his head, off the cross bar and across the line.
Pure beauty. It's what made the other 90 minutes worth sitting through.
All I can say is that while we can watch a player on match day play absolutely horrid, we never have a clue on why the manager keeps picking him. We pray and hope that the boss knows what he's doing but we question it. We all do.
Then one play, amongst the others, shines a brilliant light through the fog that has obfuscated our vision and gives us a glimpse of what the manager sees day in and day out.
Since, I'm cheating a bit and doubling up. All I really have to say about S*urs right now is fuck off. Seriously... fuck off. I won't get to see the highlights until later and frankly knowing the scoreline. I really don't care.
Scum 1 - Gunners 4
It really would be nice if they would just fuck off. Seriously... fuck off.
~LeChat
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