What? They won? YES!

Well what a dynamic weekend!

First things first, Saturday, I was working. Now I really do enjoy the fact that may job is meant to help out the less fortunate, however weekends... working... well I do need money from somewhere. I shouldn't bellyache about things like that and just get on with it.

Mind you I do have a soft spot in my heart for Norwich... go'on Canaries! 'ave em!

Sunday was a much more productive day. The Arsenal faithful were dealt the normal cards and seated in the Arsenal section, in the back of the pub. While the main event, MancScum v. Shitty was appearing on the bigger screens.

It was well worth it.

Since ManCity Himself decided to take a vacation to a small Caribbean territory, the One and Only decided to take his place. It was quite funny from where I sat. You could hear her voice above all the rest. The normal, quiet, reserved English lass had dropped the gloves and was out swinging.

Honestly, she made up for the lack of ManCity Himself not being there. Johnny and the boys couldn't piece together a proper song to save their lives. Well seeing that I never spied half of them before and that goes for both sides of the ScummyShitty fence.

I do want to give a hearty congrats to the Shitty though, still not a big team but keep it up and some day you'll be like your more well known and overly marketed cousin. I dare not call them brothers or the whole of Manchester would probably burn down. Aw what the hell, cousin-brothers!

The rest of the afterglow was spent chatting with Vincenzo and Camo about various things before and after the dismantling of Chelski at the hands of who? I don't know some Park Rangers or something, haven't been in the league in 15 odd years or so. Bad thing is, I actually remember when they were in the top flight. Back before the money moved in and the chairman lost his soul. Back when I could play 90 minutes and not complain about my ankles the next morning. Back when I was satisfied reading the Monday paper on Tuesday for match reports of the past weekend.

I could go on but that would be pointless.

One that note.. did anyone notice Wright-Phillips played on the left and Joey Barton on the right wing! I could tell my other joke but it's not good for mixed company.

Now for Girls Aloud! (aka The One and Only and her crew)
I know half the pub didn't get that joke, which is even funnier!




c'est la vie
~LeChat

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

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.

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

Ipswich Away (Carling) and West Ham Away

Another week goes by and two more games. I can't really say much about the mid-week, so I won't. Ipswich took the advantage and ran with it, while The Arsenal did what they do best, bottle it against a much less talented opponent.

This weekend, well was a slightly different story. I made my way down to the pub with Gingerette in tow. She hadn't been down for a game yet, so figured it would be as good a time as any to introduce her to a few of the faces.

After the usual welcome from Irish, we had a few words with the Chelski boys. Apparently, due to whatever scheduling reasons, the game was not being shown. Is it me or does it feel like they are getting done in just as their performance is starting to slip.

Part of me would like to say, good riddance to blue scum, but at the pub, I really do like their supporters. I can't speak for the ones that I don't know but as supporters go, top notch. Anyways, after a bit of chatting with those lot, and making my way through the lighter blue ManShitty scum, I found a nice table at the back to eat my breakfast in peace.

It was a bit of the usual back and forth. The Chelski lot had disappeared to where ever they had come from. The ManShitty crew just seemed to be getting bigger and bigger. That's when I realised it was the National College Coaches Convention or some other crap going on in the city.

Who would have thunk that a bunch of scum would be in the city under the auspice of being coaches? Well I guess you have to get them from somewhere. I mean life on the dole can be hard, or so I hear.

After the ManShitty game, we hung around for some proper football. ChelskiGirl wandered in with her normal state of bliss from just getting back from London and about to leave again. She's got to be adding pages to her passport cause that book is getting stamped more than bonehead at an anti-fa rally.

By the way, Bakerman needs to be thanked for bringing in some fine quality pastries. I really need to remind myself to give him much respect. I always think of it after the fact. This time I will not forget. He and Arsebob secured some seats at the bar for the Arsenal match. Which I can say, was a delight after some of the others that have been bandying themselves about as proper matches.

We had a good little crowd come in, one of the coaches asked if this was a usual amount of supporters. Which I replied, sometimes we get a few more but this is the core. And in fact, it was the core; Shorts even broke out the new Djourou song.

About half time, I tracked down the BigManager. I had to make the arrangements for the annual party, which lately has turned into the joint birthday of myself and ChelskiGirl. This year, however, we're going to include the Toffee. He let us know that him and I actually share the same day. On top of that, I think we are going to get a tasty cake made by the Bakerman. It should be a good time.

Tenative date, well the date that's been put in the book is for Sunday 20 February at 8PM in the Society Room/2nd Floor Pub. There is a holiday on the Monday, so no real excuses for you. Pencil it in now. Honestly, don't worry about presents, just showing up and celebrating with the three of us is a gift in itself. I should say four, because I think Usual Server might be jumping on this train too. Her birthday is somewhere in the mix as well. So a quadruple celebration it is.

Final note: Happy MLK, Jr. Day. Let's think about the racism that still tears through the professional leagues and terraces. We shouldn't think about it just on today but every day. I know this is some cliche tripe but it something that affects each and every one of us that pretends to have a righteous soul. 

From 2006, probably been shown 101 times but until the problem is fixed. It will be shown again. Mind you, it's a slanted American view, where ESPN pretends the problem doesn't exist here. It may be subtle but it does exist.



~LeChat

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.

(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)

Birmingwho? at Home

LittleblondieGooner took some time out of her busy west coast schedule to remind me that I failed to keep her informed on the inner workings of my stream consciousness also known as this blog.

I kindly informed her that I would not fail again at providing her with the much needed entertainment that she needs, apparently Hollywood and Vine is just not enough for her.

HAPPY NEW YEAR Friends! Let the transfer window open!

Friday - New Year's Eve

It started at 2pm with myself and Sheffield at the pub. We planned on one or two, just to catch up, as we hadn't been able to hang out since the fall of the Roman empire. However, things do change. After a bit, Vinnie came down, need I say things got blurry after such.

We declared a toast to Italy, since it was New Year's there, mind you this was after a few earlier toasts. I believe MiniMo and LittleBlondieGooner had shown up by this time.

Sheffield, Vinnie and myself had taken a few hits of helium from the New Year's eve balloons and tried singing Fill Up My Senses. Another round of shots and I decided it was probably best to go stumbling up the street with Vinnie and GingerCousin who had come in at some point.

By the time we made it up to GingerCousin's place, I was handed some chicken from a Columbian, ate it, and promptly fell asleep on someone's bed. I remember Vinnie coming in and telling me it was New Year's and get my ass up for some sparkly but I wasn't having it. I was snuggled up and not about to move.

Saturday - New Year's Day

All was quiet on New Year's Day as I did my walk of shame through the North end of the point back to my car. I was half inclined to poke my head into the pub to check the MancScum game and say Hi to the sheriff but knew that was a bad idea.

I took in a quick nap and morning ritual back at the homestead and made it down for the second half of some other shit game. Surprised to see an actual Blackpool supporter sitting amongst Shitty faithful.

Some of the same faces from the night before had not gone home, like myself. That was an enjoyable scene. I felt like a ton of bricks, ended up taking a seat next to ArsenalNick on the couches, who at one point disappeared during the half and came back well done.

Shorts came in and had taken up the other seat beside me on the couches. He ordered a chicken sandwich that smelled like the best chicken sandwich ever. It was doing me no good, stole a fry and the night before threatened to come back and visit.

Just a word about the actual game. We were watching it this time. Like recovering from a bad hangover (in other words Wigan) The boys showed there mettle and was able to do over a very harsh Birmingham squad. Those fahkin cunts! Seriously, I'd never seen that much outrageous violence, except in the movies, you know the one where Rambo is like going ape shit on some stupid hick cops.

ArsenalNick kept repeating the quote, "They drew first blood Captain." I don't even know if that's the right quote but it's damn close enough and proved a point. The boys have grown up and now they are the men who play beautiful ball and not afraid to get stuck in as well.

In short, FUCK 'EM ALL LADS!

Build, instead of buy. Assemble and create instead of prefabricated and microwaved. I don't mean to laugh but have you seen the implosions happening with teams wearing blue? I don't see Chelski falling but so far, however maybe they will settle back into the place where they belong.

And now for the best present of the New Year's. HANDBAGS between Ade and, well just about everyone. However, he crossed the line today in my opinion; had a go at King Kolo. Seriously, going after Kolo Touré, in practice! Adebayor, need I say it again? You, my good sir, waste of money, time, space and talent... you fahkin cunt!

Seriously good bye get out of the league and play in Poland or better yet Russia. Hopefully that big head of yours can fit in the Kremlin.

Dear readers, I do apologise for my uncivil tongue. I just can't stand certain people and their certain self-entitled egos; at least you can laugh at Bendtner, the muppet.

~LeChat

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?

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

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

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.

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

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.

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)

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

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

Liverpool Away

YES! It has finally arrived. Opening weekend of the EPL season. So enough with the frivolity, let's get down to business, shall we?

Friday

It was a really non-plus type of night. I headed home after a long day of work, sat down in front of the computer and zoned out into my own megalomaniac session of Tropico. For some reason I am finding this game to be very addicting. I think it's the fact that I can have people assassinated at my whim. As you can see, I live an exciting life.

Saturday

Bright and early sunshine. I headed my way down to the pub for the breakfast and to watch Shitty and Scum take on each other. I didn't really care who won but I will admit the atmosphere was sorely lacking and for one semi-annoying reason. MANCITY himself was not there.

I will take a minute to congratulate him for his nuptials and hope he had a wonderful time on his honeymoon.

The ManCity gremlin horde was out in force, which is a good thing, mind you they don't have the presence of ManCity Himself though.

After a bit, I decide to wander up to meet some of the Chelski lads with T-Bone at the dollar store. We took a few shots and then I remembered I left my drink with A Certain Scouser and headed back to the pub. Things have a tendency to disappear around that girl.

Drink intact, I found a standing room spot and watched the obliteration of that fine West Brom team by the Chelski. It's a bit of a shame though, when you think about it. They shouldn't have been outclassed as such.

The Chelski lads were of course in full chorus. I reminded them repeatedly that you just beat West Brom on the first day of the league... is it really appropriate? They didn't seem to care. My only hope is that Blackpool or Newcastle stick it to them. Now that would be a good day.

I spent the rest of the evening in bed. I can't even recall how that happened. I got home, passed out, woke up for about an hour and then just slept. I think I got a good 12 hours... very nice.

Sunday

People keep saying this thing about Christmas day. You know I'd been terrorizing the cyber-world with videos of Michael Thomas and the end bit to Fever Pitch (the proper one), for the whole weekend. So yah, there was a bit of anticipation for the first match.

I journeyed down early, just to get more of the free buffet. I am not going to lie about it but if I can get free Eggs Benedict with a side of bacon and breakfast tortilla, it's going to happen. I laid off the bevvy for a bit, however I found myself with a bloody mary in my hand at some point.

Rumour has it that there has been a slight Scouse division, which may be a good thing because it was still (inappropriate comment) packed in the pub. There was some strange guy there that was a suppos-ed friend of Arse St. Nick's and he was a bit off the rocker. He kept trying to trade shirts with people, very odd indeed. I had to explain why I was wearing Arsenal yellow and why it wasn't a Brasil kit.

Good news! We get to keep Bayern for another week. I need to tell him that the middle east just doesn't want him. Either way, wish him well, here or there.

Yah I know this seems a bit disjointed. I have a feeling it will all come together in the end.

Anyways, I've just been offered sushi and you know who can't resist a bit of raw fish!

~LeChat

Emirates Cup o' Noodles

Ahhh the first brilliant weekend of the return of some preseason club football. I have to say, in general the weekend in the city proved to be a very interesting confluence of absurdity.

To begin with, there as the anime convention, which brought out a whole lot of people carrying very large swords and wigs with spiky hair. I think Chamakh was trying to do the same thing with his excessively moussed hairdo.

Then there was the ManShitty - Inter game, which welcomed the antics of some very odd acting football supporters. There is one thing I can say about some of the Mancs that did appear around the pub.

There were no surprises... none at all.

Friday Night
I took in the atmosphere surrounding the unveiling of the ManShitty plaque in the pub. The night started off slow enough but there were good times to be had. My plan was to get there early and hang out a bit.

SlainteLOSC greeted me at the door and we sat near the front waiting for some others to show. I think he was working but you never know with him.

We were plotting on finding Materrazzi and giving him a Baltimore Welcome.

SlainteLOSC made a few phone calls, however, the cheating Italian piece of shit was up in Philadelphia. I think they realized the French Resistance was out for blood or there were too many things named after Lafayette, either way they were not in town until right before the game.

Je t'aime Zizou!

TheCleanOne showed up in his normal cheery mode with Chelski hat fondly on display. Sheffield and WestBrom popped in a few moments later and the corner was now secured. A few Mancs had wandered in from the docks; I only assume that's where they come from.

A few more of the local crew dropped in and that's about the time some of the songs started going on. I think there were some ManShitty uppity folks in suits that assisted with the unveiling but the corner didn't really seem to pay it much mind. We were all busy catching up and prattling on about whatever it is we prattle about.

After the whole ceremony, there were some pictures taken and Blue Moon was sung about 20 times. By this point, Brendan Pelan had set up his guitar and amplifiers, as it was the night he usually plays music, and at that point T-Bone and the Librarian decided to take flight.

Brendan picked up on the Shitty fans singing Blue Moon and started playing along and they started singing a bit louder. I think another couple of songs were played and in one of the breaks You Fill Up My Senses came out of the locals. Brendan also picked up on that as well.

I think he said something to the point of, "Hey I like that song." It was about 5 minutes later, he started playing the original song (Annie by John Denver) and invited us to sing You Fill Up My Senses again. I think we did about 3 times in a row before he went back into singing Annie.



Now you will not get that song out of your head. You're very welcome.

Saturday
Last season the pub showed the Emirates cup. This season, the pub showed the Emirates cup. It's always nice to see some pre-season stuff, sort of puts the taste in your mouth.

When I arrived ArsenalSteve was already sitting there. He had just came back from New York. I didn't ask why, figured it was best that way. We talked a bit about the upcoming season and after a short bit a journalist with cameraman come into the pub. I thought I had seen them outside but didn't pay much mind.

I was in no mood to deal with journos at this time of the morning. They interviewed ThePantsManager and he sent them our way. I remember the journo shaking my hand and quickly declining camera time, shoving it upon ArsenalSteve. My excuse was he's much better looking than me in the morning and the reality of me actually being to shy to talk about football on camera.

I stood in the background with MySonWill pretending to have a conversation about the game on the screen. The whole time we were just making fun of the reporter and the fact that IrishDave kept flirting with her.

My understanding is there is some footage of me that made it onto the television. I still haven't seen it but wish I could find it, just to link it.

Saturday Night
The actual night of the ManShitty-Inter game. I had a show, which I do thank the gods for that. I am so glad I was unable to join in the shit show that was to be. My understanding is that later, after the game, some ManShitty scum had a few too many, jumped up and ripped down the MancScum flag from outside.

Seriously, I, myself have joked about it but find no good reason to do something like that, in a pub on Thames in Baltimore... seriously?

I know, club is important but sometimes you need to keep that and yourself in check. From what I've been told, his friends were a might bit embarrassed and put him in a cab on his way home.

Sunday
Emirates cup glory once again. I got to watch a bit of O'Lyon play. I still love that team. I remember I had a chance to get a kit from a silent auction a couple years ago and flubbed on it.

MySonWill expressed his frustration about the Shitty game from the night before. He said his biological dad, who I think is from Charlton, was very annoyed at the whole game and atmosphere. That seems to be the general consensus.

While I was hoping for something along the lines of the Chelski-Milan match, for the sake of football itself, it seems that did not happen. There was less excitement, less hype and lot less to be desired.

At the end of the day, ManShitty is not a big club and Inter is a shadow of its former self and then there is the World Cup factor. It was broadcast at more or less appropriate times, so there may have just been an over-saturation of football, for a country that doesn't know how to cope with it or even begin, or want to begin, to understand the game.

Anyways, club has started to sow its seeds back into every day life. I can start breathing again. 90 minutes on a Saturday afternoon, that is the life!



~LeChat

FAILURE

-interview excerpt clipped from Arseloba Magazine.

M. LeChat, apparently you failed at picking who would come out of group and beyond. Can you explain this to us?

That's correct. I am no ocotopus. I can't believe I got beat on my picks by an 8 armed freak that lives in an aquarium. Seriously, who would have thunk it.

Is that your excuse or better, the reason for your failure?

What do I have to say for myself, absolutely nothing. The cup this year had a fair number of surprises and we're edging up to a final that is probably the least enthralling since... I don't know when. I am not that old, even though there are some who may beg to differ.

What was your desire for the final?

I was really hoping for a minnows versus shark final. Now, we have a bloated whale versus whale plankton eating fest. *le sigh*

Can you hear the whale song?
HOoOOOOOoooland.. spAIIIIIIIIIIINN.... ppppsshshhhhhhh
Last bit is blowhole noise, if you don't know what whales sound like, I suggest you go to one of those new age hippie shops and buy a soundtrack.

Do you at least plan to watch the game?

I will take my normal stroll and head to the pub for the action on the weekend. I will just be there for the football though. I don't really care which side ends up with the cup. Sure, it would be nice for Spain to bring it and it will make me stop with all my paella and gazpacho jokes.

So, any regrets M. LeChat?

My only regret is I didn't get to watch enough games with the local crew. Well that and having to endure the incessant babble from the rabble, which more or less subsided once certain squads got knocked out.

So the crowds were mostly rabble?

No, not at all. It was a good crowd for most every game, that I attended. You know this is good for football in general. I would love to see a regular crowd show up in August when the EPL kicks off but that is just mere wishful thinking on my part.

You don't see the crowds being around come start of the European seasons?

Meh, maybe for the first couple, as it will be right after the ManShitty and Inter game on July 31st. It would be nice if the football fever stuck around, but come the middle of November, they'll be gone. You may get one or two, but it would be a pleasure to have a few more.

Mentioning the EPL and European seasons, what is your take on the Arsenal transfers?

I don't discuss those until I see the man kick the ball in red and white.

There have been two confirmed signings, what are your thoughts?

I do not discuss those.
*glaring at the reporter*

Well, um, alright, what are your feelings on the French meltdown?

The FFF meltdown was bound to happen. Domenech should have been fired years ago. Gallas has a short blurb in the Guardian about it. I mean, he's not the say all and be all of French football but he does make the point I've been making for the last few years.

So mentioning the French, how do you think Koscielny will pair with Vermaelen?

*throws litter box at reporter*

~LeChat

Blackburn Away

Surprise, usually this is written the day after the game/weekend but since a certain person decided to try and wind me up a little bit on FB today before I got a chance to sit down and take a look at the scoreline. I'm going to perform a pre-emptive. Plus this week is going to be incredibly busy with work and other stuff.

Let's take a look at what my dear old MancScum supporting friend said.

Maybe Arsene really has checked out and is planning to go to Madrid next year. How else do you explain the collapse of The Arse like this?

My reply, which I won't quote, since it is my reply is that Arsenal and Arsene have been frighteningly consistent over the past couple of years. It's like a roller coaster ride pretending to be a bobsled. I know there are some who are like, I don't get it. That's perfectly acceptable as it makes sense in my head.

The coaster is on rails, has a definite maximum speed and braking mechanisms in place and nice little seat belts for the big hills... so everything is for the most part not going to get out of control or too scary. The ride is inspected constantly and if it breaks down, maintenance is a radio call away.

In Arsenal terms, we will be in the Champions League and finish in the top 4.

Bobsleds,on the other hand, lack these types of controls, so you never know what you are going to get. It might be a fun exhilarating ride but where is the bottom of the hill, who is on the brakes and what happens when it all goes pear shape? You're not calling bobsled maintenance; you're calling the medic or someone else in the worst case scenario.

In footballing terms, this would be probably most akin to Leeds quite a few seasons ago and maybe even Pompey currently. So, as an Arsenal supporter for way too many years, all I have to say is that this is the way it is currently.

If Arsene decides to leave, so be it. If Fabergas, Van Persie, Arshavin, Rosicky,or insert random player name here, decides to leave, so be it. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west and the Arsenal is still the greatest team the world has ever seen.

I did a double this time and the slightly more tame version of the above can be found at the Pub blog. I just did not feel like giving it all for two this week.

As I will continue, I am not bothered in one bit. I have seen players come and go more times than I can even remember. A once touted golden boy, fucks off to Istanbul the next year. The new Viera (number 2 or 3) breaks a leg and fucks off to god knows where and does fuck all sense. The die-hard Arsenal lad from youth, fucks off to Chelsea for a brand new cellphone with extensive vibrate settings.

I mean, throughout the late 80's and early 90's I could have sworn we were a farm club for Barcelona. It still feels that way at times, but we've won titles and have consistently been top 4 for quite some time.

I know the little devil voice in my head is like, I wish we'd finish 10th but still above Sp*rs, just so the nouveau supporters will fuck off as well. However, I can not always get what I wish for.

This has been a rather lackluster season. Someone pointed out to me in the pub, not sure what day or whom, that whenever the Arsenal were on the precipice of being on top of the league and in control of their destiny, they'd fuck it up.

What is my saying? Something like being able to work wonders in the box but still failing to score. In other words, this is where we stand, looks good but no finish.

In other parts of the league, there was the vain hope that Scousers would be able to do something worthwhile. The pub itself was packed, which was very nice. I was keeping a lower than usual profile, as I had already provoked the gods last weekend and started to press my luck on Friday while having pints with Sheffield.

Unfortunately, by the look of things, it appears Chelski will take the title. It would take a miracle of situations to change their fortune at this point. They've been having quite a tear at the league these last couple of weeks. I can admit this as I have resigned the Arsenal to third a few weeks ago.

My last bit of a scary situation. Scum are only 5 points behind us at the moment. A win would have made for a nice St. Totteringham Monday, but it's not going to be so. Another interesting bit is ManShitty is only a point behind the Scum and play them Mid-week. So here's hoping that Wrighty's son and team can pull one off this time and bury those fahkin prats.

~LeChat

Man City HOME

Let's say the day started off well... light... not too many cares in the world. I made an easy one out of it. Headed to the pub for some of the early matches, as usual, with no personal agenda. I caught quite a bit of the MancScum match as they handed the proper Scum a proper beating.

An interesting spectacle did happen though. The Karate kid guy has been showing up a lot more lately. I wonder if it's because MancScum actually have a chance to win the title. You know I'm all for supporting your club but seriously just showing up for the big games and a chance at the title? Who are you kidding? We don't see you every weekend.

Enough of my veiled hatred for bandwagon supporters. However, to be in a pub while WestHam fight for relegation and not a single WestHam supporter was there. I find that truly disheartening.

So where should the beginning of the end start to begin. Shortly after the WestHam match, my Saturday began to unravel. I distinctly remember myself, HalfArseDean, MiniMourhino and LilBlondieGooner heading to the bar around the corner... partaking in happy hour shots.. heading back to the pub.

ManCity himself and crew happened to be there and the BeardedGooner showed up shortly after that. In reality, I think ManCity himself had more of a crew than the Gooners, which is very disheartening, indeed.

BeardedGooner and I decided we would out-city ManCity himself. I actually believe at this time the shots of espresso vodka had begun taking it's toll on me. It was a pretty good time. There weren't many in the pub at all but it was a cacophony of chants and songs and apparently some weird dance number.

I can't say there was anything interesting on the telly. So we made our own fun and just enjoyed a day with football on the screen. I had promised myself to go out to the Palace game but got distracted and ended up at MiniMourhino's place with a can of American craptastic in my hand.

I did get some socks with Special's logo on it... Thanks to ChelskiGirl who stopped in for a few before leaving to her ChelskiWorld.

The rest of the night I spent either sleeping or releasing the bile from my stomach into a waste disposal basket. Well I guess third isn't so bad, now that it's out of my system.

~LeChat

Wolves at Home

Another holiday weekend passes with much ado about nothing. My Friday was spent stumbling around the point, trying to avoid eating meat and not avoid the finer beverages that life has to offer.

As I stated in the beginning, much ado about nothing. Sushi had become the order of the day and it was a bit underwhelming to say the least. However, the 22 ounce Kirin Lager did make things go down a little better.

I stumbled my way through the windy streets of the lower point and into the pub. It was good fortune, as I had tried to raise MiniMourinho on the phone but he was a bit under the weather.

There on the television, in it's full glory, was the MancScum and Bayern Champions League tie. While some people get upset at knowing the result prior to the finish of the game. I am one who spent most of his early days as a supporter watching replays on Wednesday afternoons when I got home from school.

In my opinion, knowing the result only gives you part of the story. It doesn't give you the full pitch battles that may have happened from end to end. The fluke that just so happened to get bobbled or just how that sprain/broken metatarsal occurred. I am one who enjoys the nuance of a good match.

Let's just say, a few rum and cokes later, I was feeling quite good and quite impressed with what Bayern had shown on the pitch. They look dangerous.

My Friday ended with a short walk up to ChelskiGirl's restaurant for a nice grilled salmon. I guess there is something good about Good Friday after all. It's funny that I follow the tradition in the spiritual sense. It's sort of like making sure I put my left shoe on first, doesn't really have anything to do with anything, just kind of a traditional.

SATURDAY
A big day for a good tie. The two thorns in my side, Chelski and MancScum were facing off. A draw was what I prayed for, as it kept both of them within striking distance and would mean that the Arsenal had a decent chance for top of the league.

As I stated and will state once again, this weekend was much ado about nothing. Seriously, while it was probably the best game I've seen from the two sides in recent week, it ruined what chance of a league title that could be seen.

At the final whistle, I felt like all the wind had been knocked out of me. I started pointing fingers and blaming the MancScum for being mediocre on a day when they needed to be slightly better. In my heart of hearts, I know it came down to those one or two games where the Arsenal drew instead of finishing.

Finishing, I do not believe I understand that word.

The pub had been chock full of Chelski and MancScum. There were quite a few sad faces at the end of it all. MiniMourinho decided to do another stand on the bar for a rousing course of 10 Men went to Mow.

Our small contingent of Arsenal, with the help of Sheffield and Irish decided to start singing about all sorts of things. Some of which had nothing to do with the actual games at hand.

By the time the Arsenal match came on, I was just about hoarse. It was a lackluster match from end to end. The keeper for Wolves played a nice game. I can say that and the last minute finish, well... I don't know what to say but I think the Arsenal was very lucky and I do not mind that chant one bit.

I started to watch the ManShitty match but once it was about 4-nil decided it was best for me to end the day. I mentioned to ManCity himself that they were going to score six and so it was. I think with World Cup coming up, my scoring prediction powers are re-emerging.

SUNDAY
I did not even think about football for once. Can you believe it?

Yah I lie, I just did not go out and watch any. I had more fun arguing with my church going relatives about books of the bible and general fallacies of religion as a whole. Easter is fun!

Miscellany
I am to start doing some guest writing on the Pub blog. Be on the lookout for that. It has to be of a slightly less biting style than this one, or so I've been asked. Now I need to just get myself into gear and do it.

Crystal Palace Baltimore season opener is on April 16 at UMBC. They are in a new league and it was always great fun for a long hot boring summer. This year they are to give the 35ers their own little section with beer garden included. Schedule!

It would be nice to see some of you Pub hooligans, er... I mean supporters out there lending your voice.

~LeChat

Stoke Away

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

Saturday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Saturday Night

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Respect. Football.

oh and the puma Hard chorus....


~LeChat

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

Sunderland at home (Birthday weekend!!!)

Let's be honest, it was all a blur this weekend. Well a bit more of a blur than what the usual weekend is, so to speak. My actual birthday was on Friday, just to keep the record straight, and I spent the evening quietly sipping New Castle's with an old friend at his establishment for a couple hours before calling it an early evening.

Saturday

Our intrepid adventure begins at the well known pub, a familiar place of contemplation and introspection. Here is the summation of what I can actually remember from that morning. Firstly, NO IRISH. What the heck??? I could not believe he would go on vacation and miss this match. Yes there was a match, MancScum and Toffees. There was a score line, which was quite a nice surprise for all to enjoy.
Thank you Blue Scouse.

I also know there were a lot of strangers in the pub. I am not complaining about that but it was very odd. I believe there was a total of two that I actually knew beyond mere facial recognition. However, I couldn't be bothered with the strangers... FERGIE was turning RED!

I just read something today about him forbidding his young players from wearing colourful boots.

Sir Alex Ferguson has become the first top-flight manager to take a stand against brightly coloured football boots.
Under new rules Manchester United's junior players have been banned from wearing anything other than old-school black while on club business.

-Guardian, Sir Alex Ferguson sticks the boot in...

NOW, I do not fully disagree with him, for once; it can happen. I think you better be the bees knees if you're going to put on some hot pink boots. Your goal average better be somewhere near 1.5/match or one hell of a play-maker. Yes, I'm looking at you Mr. Bendtner. I can score from the 6 yard box, actually that's my specialty but then again I spent more time playing indoor and I wasn't getting paid the GNP of a small island nation.

Anyways, back to Saturday. The Arsenal faithful started streaming in shortly prior to the end of the MancScum match. The Chelski boys came in drips and drabs but since it was my birthday weekend, we got the big screen. I actually think we may have been even on numbers. Chelski boys decided they would try their luck on the second floor since the rugby was not being televised.

Interestingly enough, we were having a conversation about Arse St. Nick, who had done a sojourn to Kenya and "got married" and hadn't been seen since. There had been some conjecture and speculation about what he had really been up to. He walks in around 60 minutes, to cheers and several well placed jibes about his trip.

He seemed happy to be back with the boys. He immediately started buying me shots since it was my birthday. I don't think we did the same shot twice. I kept complaining I had to make it out to band practice but that didn't stop the shots.

The Chelski boys came down after their match and got into celebration mood with the Arsenal. Songs and jokes started going back and forth. I believe with the dozen and half hooligans we had assembled, it was the loudest the pub had been in a long time. I am sure the drinks flowing had quite a bit to do with it as well, but it was definitely a good time.

Somehow StormtrooperChelski thought it was funny to go grab a pile of snow and stuff it down the back of my shirt. Cheeky bastard! I guess I deserved it for calling them all a bunch of batty boys as they headed upstairs to watch their match.

Band practice went off pretty well. We have a Clash tribute show coming up this next weekend. We will be preforming Spanish Bombs and Guns of Brixton at the Sidebar. Doors at 5 and we will be on second. Flyer, for those who care.

If you want something more cerebral, GrumpyGooner will be reading from his book, Hated and Proud at Atomic Books, at 7 PM. Here's some of the text from their site.

DANCE OF DAYS - MARK ANDERSEN
HATED & PROUD - SAB GREY

Saturday, February 27, 7PM. .
Admission: Free. Atomic Books.

Mark Andersen will be discussing his book Dance of Days: Two Decades of Punk in the Nation's Capital - a fantastic and comprehensive look at DC's famous punk scene.

Sab Grey - who was part of the very scene that Mark Andersen chronicles is now a novelist. He will be reading from his new book, Hated & Proud.

Yes, I shamelessly promote my mates as well. So if you got something going on, let me know and it will be added in here.

Saturday Night

Birthday Spectacular time! ChelskiGirl's birthday was Sunday and mine was Friday, so we decided to do a joint party. Initially, our intention was to get the top deck at the pub but to no avail, another party had beaten us to it. Dirty bastards! We were given the second floor at the barnextdoor, which is another nice place.

Let's just say it was a good time. I don't want to get into details but somehow there were some people, not associated with the party that took over about half the bar prior to everyone getting there. I shrugged my shoulders, so be it. I had no idea how many of us were actually going to show but we did turn up in numbers.

Once again, get enough of the pub hoolies drunk and in a space together, the singing begins. Fill up my senses and Arseloba seemed to be the songs of preference for the night, since they were probably the least offensive and neutral.

We closed out the bar and one of my longest known friends, MERN and I stumbled our way down the street. We stood on a corner talking for about 2 minutes when a pair of young ladies decided to join us for a chat. We hung out with them for a bit before I decided it was probably best to tuck it in and head home. I wasn't feeling the scene too much, as I was getting stuck with the grenade or as my Italian friends that I met in Ireland would say, "Bomba Atomica!"

MERN, on the other hand, did quite well for himself. The next afternoon he sent me a text saying the girls were looking for me after I had disappeared. I mean they locked themselves in the bathroom to evacuate their evening's consumption, plus I had to be the one to jump on the grenade; you would disappear too.

Sunday Morning

I am feeling very well. I decide to head towards the pub and have a nice breakfast of Eggs Benedict and a warm coffee. To my elated surprise, Bridge was working instead of Irish. I took a seat next to Shane and watched the early game, of which my mind is now testing me, Burnley Villa, maybe, and something else. It did not matter much because the ManCity show was about to begin.

One of the better reasons to awake from about 3 hours of sleep is watching ManCity. It is not so much as ManShitty the team but ManCity himself. I think the comment that was made went something like, "that guy is like four fans in one." To which, my laughter attracted his attention and he came over and said, "I know you guys are talking about me because you're laughing too much." This was followed by more laughter.

Another highlight is that ManCity has taken to calling SWP by my name, which all the locals know and don't pay it much mind. However a pair of Scousers who I had never even seen before kept asking each other, why does he keep calling SWP other names. Now that was hilarious. I think they finally got the joke, but you never know.

Which reminds me, of my Olympics diving competition joke that took half the pub about five minutes to figure out. I do love a good delayed laugh. I got told I was being too cerebral for a Sunday morning. Mighty grim up North, mighty grim.

After the match I sat with Vinny and ChelskiPizzaman for a bit. We talked a bit about the weekend and various other absurdities as in parking tickets, being towed and the MVA.

All in all, it was a great weekend. Thanks to all that came out and celebrated with ChelskiGirl and myself. Thanks to all for the birthday wishes and thanks to ACMilan for the great Arsenal tuke.

ALRIGHT - one last thing. My spell check totally hates me. I am sorry I am not super Americanised and spell every stupid word the way you want me to spell it. It's a bloody tuke, woolie, beanie, whatever the fuck you want to call it. And one more fucking thing. I do use the ~s instead of ~zed at times and fuck you spell check, I said fucking ZED! And how come you don't have trouble with the words fuck or bastard, you stupid fucking, cunting spell check! PISS OFF!

~LeChat

Villa Away Mid-week

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

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

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

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

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

Scum in the 91st

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

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

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

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

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

PLAIN AND FUCKING SIMPLE, NO?

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

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

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

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

~LeChat