Well 2 plus one qualifier have passed. And yes this is my first actual blog of the season. I wasn't up to writing at all this summer or even towards the end of the season. Isn't it time for us to get reacquainted.
This blog itself became a concept in my mind several years ago, after my umpteenth reading of Fever Pitch. If you haven't read it and claim to be a football supporter, then I'd put it on your summer/autumnal reading list. Basically, the author parallels his ups and downs in his life with the ebb and flow of a certain North London club's season. I'll just say it's a good read and there have been two movies made out of it. (One for an American audience with the Red Sox as the team... *grumble*)
Now that was not my only inspiration, or should I say push to make the concept come to fruition. There have been several other books written on the discourse of how society and culture relate to football. And there is no denying that it has become so entwined in the very lives of some peoples that it permeates every aspect of culture.
Why is this important?
It is what this blog is about; my society, my culture, my life and how football impregnates it, parallels it and frankly can make a right mess of it. I don't really care about how many kilometers player x ran or whether or not player y got traded on for 50 million quid and a very nice looking sheep. There is plenty of coverage of that... stuff... is it necessary to have another blog about it?
So here, I lay out my life, my thoughts and my general ideas about everything and it's relationship with the one thing. It would be easy to say that I have some clearly obsessive tendency but that is not the case. However, it should be noted that football is the glue that can bring some very divergent minds together. It's a beautiful thing.
I can have a conversation with the rest of the world; agree, disagree, or come to an agreement to disagree, yet at the end of the day, still respect that opinion. That's the real beauty of it. The game itself is just a backdrop. It would be nice if we could all sit down for a pint, maybe those in white castles could have a better understanding of those in the favela, perhaps?
Who knows?
What I do know is that I spent the last two weekends at the pub. Back in action with a few familiar faces and some that I have never seen before and more than likely not see much often after. While I might pretend to not want any newbies showing up, it really is a good thing. It shows there are those out there who just might get drawn into the fold. Someone for whom a spark will light off in their dim, mundane, every day existence and will finally be welcomed as an us, rather than a them.
I might get accused for treating football supporters like an exclusive club, but it's obvious, there is a certain pretext to it, an underlying evolution that has occurred in each and every supporter at one time or another. It is the glue that binds as well as causes cruddy things to stick, whether we like it or not; drunken, violent, territorial, loud and sophomoric. I stop short of moronic because that is simply unfair; morons receive benefits and treatment.
These are the things that football supporters are accused of around the world; not to mention homophobia, xenophobia, nationalism and racism. We, ourselves, know this to be a minority and shouldn't let it taint our love and love others have for the game.
It is quite sad that this is on my mind at the start of a season. It is a bitter reality, a pill to swallow. In order to know beauty, one must also know ugliness. Another cliché would be that beauty will prevail above all else. Let's hope it does and the rest of the season is a beautiful one.
Showing posts with label newcastle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label newcastle. Show all posts
22 August 2011
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
31 January 2011
Ipswich Home (Carling) and Huddersfield Home (FA)
CUP CUP CUP
The Arsenal are still in some cups. It should be an exciting time, a real chance for some silverware after such a long drought and the continuous bridesmaid finishes for the last half decade.
I haven't and well couldn't be assed with going to the pub this week. To be honest, getting up for Huddersfield at 7:30 Eastern was not in the books. I should plan my Saturday evenings out a bit better.
Meanwhile (imagine funky comic book script)
The closing of the mid-season transfer has come and now gone, as it was today. There wasn't much in it for the Arsenal, no surprise there. However, it appears the Scousers may have got one over on Newcastle. I swear Newcastle must be giving a lesson on how to yo-yo between leagues at the moment. Not a good move, once again.
Seriously though, what do I know. I'm not the manager or the owner but from a layman's vantage point; It. No. Good.
Now let's get on with the proper stuff. This whole mid-season transfer market stuff really screws my head. Honestly, I think there should be something done about it. In my heart of hearts, would love to be done with the whole thing but I have a feeling that's not going to happen.
The month of February does give us a bit to look forward to though. There's the Barcelona Champions League tie and um my birthday. Yes, I know. Something good and something, well we will see the outcome of it.
This year the party will be moving back to the Pub, second floor, Society Room. We're going to do it on Sunday 20 Feb at 8 PM. (Monday is a holiday)
Remember it's not just me but also ChelskiGirl and the Toffee's birthday as well. Don't bring presents, just bring yourselves.
~LeChat
The Arsenal are still in some cups. It should be an exciting time, a real chance for some silverware after such a long drought and the continuous bridesmaid finishes for the last half decade.
I haven't and well couldn't be assed with going to the pub this week. To be honest, getting up for Huddersfield at 7:30 Eastern was not in the books. I should plan my Saturday evenings out a bit better.
Meanwhile (imagine funky comic book script)
The closing of the mid-season transfer has come and now gone, as it was today. There wasn't much in it for the Arsenal, no surprise there. However, it appears the Scousers may have got one over on Newcastle. I swear Newcastle must be giving a lesson on how to yo-yo between leagues at the moment. Not a good move, once again.
Seriously though, what do I know. I'm not the manager or the owner but from a layman's vantage point; It. No. Good.
Now let's get on with the proper stuff. This whole mid-season transfer market stuff really screws my head. Honestly, I think there should be something done about it. In my heart of hearts, would love to be done with the whole thing but I have a feeling that's not going to happen.
The month of February does give us a bit to look forward to though. There's the Barcelona Champions League tie and um my birthday. Yes, I know. Something good and something, well we will see the outcome of it.
This year the party will be moving back to the Pub, second floor, Society Room. We're going to do it on Sunday 20 Feb at 8 PM. (Monday is a holiday)
Remember it's not just me but also ChelskiGirl and the Toffee's birthday as well. Don't bring presents, just bring yourselves.
~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
08 November 2010
Shaktar (CL) midweek and Newcastle at Home
What a pitiful display last week was. I am not even going to get into it. Midweek was the same old story. I was at work, unable to phone Wenger and get the right team on the pitch. Only if I truly had that power, however I don't think it would matter either way.
So let's flog the dead horse and call her November.
Saturday, I'll be honest. I completely checked out of the world. I had awoken about 5 AM to take my relatives to the airport. Must be nice to be retired and travel down to the Outer Banks or wherever, whenever you desire. I think they're all going on a cruise sometime soon as well.
Well, in order to keep my insanity, I just checked out. A few rounds of Football Manager on the good old computer, a big mug of Theraflu to make sure I wasn't coming down with something and some mid-day napping. Ah, how I love my siestas.
It became apparent on Sunday, that I missed some good football from the previous day. As I have said, it doesn't really matter. It's November!
Sunday was rather crisp in the morning with the overarching gloom hanging in the air. For some reason, I decided I would have a bit of hope this morning. I should start at the beginning when I woke up and forgot to switch my clock back. That should have been the first omen.
Then my drive down, while uneventful, was an exercise in patience. I really wonder where people learn how to drive. I mean, I by far am not the most rules aligned driver in the world but at least, or so I feel, I have an iota of common sense when behind the wheel.
Who knows maybe I don't but I do remember watching a driving instruction video with I believe Senna or someone of note about controlling your car. It had to do with imagining it as an extension of your body and such; that you should never make a sharp manoeuvre that it all should be a natural flow, from acceleration to braking to taking a curve. Makes sense to me, so why all the panicking? Why the slamming of brakes on the middle of an empty highway? WHY and why in hell all the distractions in the cockpit?
It is sort of like life. I know the footballers themselves go through a massive amount of distractions in their daily lives. Many of the distractions keep them from doing their jobs. And really that's what football is for them, a job. A job, that they may be passionate about, excessively trained for, but at the end of the day it's a job.
I know myself, I hate when people judge the quality of my job and never had worked a day in their life in my job. It's one thing if you have at least a notion of what I go through on a daily basis but most people don't and that's a plain fact.
So here we sit, November. The pear shaped queen of the Arsenal calendar. I can't fathom an idea of what is going on with the boys. I certainly wish I could. I certainly wish I had a direct line to Arsene and Rice.
I might bitch and moan about the lack of this or that. How complacency has reared it's ugly head early in the season. How the desire for a real cup should exceed all but at the end of the day I remain steadfast and loyal to my oddly shaped queen, cause she makes the best pumpkin pies.
I had planned on going into my loyalty rant. I really wanted to blast the splitters again but that is as futile as expecting a win at home during the first week in November or something else.. blah blah blah.
It's unnecessary and over done. There is a certain lack of loyalty amongst a certain group or groups of so called "soccer fans." AND Yes I did use that exact term for that exact reason. They're not football supporters. I don't believe the grand lot of them would shed blood for their club or take abuse when losing to a newly promoted yo yo club.
They can go fuck themselves just like the bad drivers on a Sunday morning. Don't expect anything from me; you've dug your own hole, go lay down in it.
~LeChat
So let's flog the dead horse and call her November.
Saturday, I'll be honest. I completely checked out of the world. I had awoken about 5 AM to take my relatives to the airport. Must be nice to be retired and travel down to the Outer Banks or wherever, whenever you desire. I think they're all going on a cruise sometime soon as well.
Well, in order to keep my insanity, I just checked out. A few rounds of Football Manager on the good old computer, a big mug of Theraflu to make sure I wasn't coming down with something and some mid-day napping. Ah, how I love my siestas.
It became apparent on Sunday, that I missed some good football from the previous day. As I have said, it doesn't really matter. It's November!
Sunday was rather crisp in the morning with the overarching gloom hanging in the air. For some reason, I decided I would have a bit of hope this morning. I should start at the beginning when I woke up and forgot to switch my clock back. That should have been the first omen.
Then my drive down, while uneventful, was an exercise in patience. I really wonder where people learn how to drive. I mean, I by far am not the most rules aligned driver in the world but at least, or so I feel, I have an iota of common sense when behind the wheel.
Who knows maybe I don't but I do remember watching a driving instruction video with I believe Senna or someone of note about controlling your car. It had to do with imagining it as an extension of your body and such; that you should never make a sharp manoeuvre that it all should be a natural flow, from acceleration to braking to taking a curve. Makes sense to me, so why all the panicking? Why the slamming of brakes on the middle of an empty highway? WHY and why in hell all the distractions in the cockpit?
It is sort of like life. I know the footballers themselves go through a massive amount of distractions in their daily lives. Many of the distractions keep them from doing their jobs. And really that's what football is for them, a job. A job, that they may be passionate about, excessively trained for, but at the end of the day it's a job.
I know myself, I hate when people judge the quality of my job and never had worked a day in their life in my job. It's one thing if you have at least a notion of what I go through on a daily basis but most people don't and that's a plain fact.
So here we sit, November. The pear shaped queen of the Arsenal calendar. I can't fathom an idea of what is going on with the boys. I certainly wish I could. I certainly wish I had a direct line to Arsene and Rice.
I might bitch and moan about the lack of this or that. How complacency has reared it's ugly head early in the season. How the desire for a real cup should exceed all but at the end of the day I remain steadfast and loyal to my oddly shaped queen, cause she makes the best pumpkin pies.
I had planned on going into my loyalty rant. I really wanted to blast the splitters again but that is as futile as expecting a win at home during the first week in November or something else.. blah blah blah.
It's unnecessary and over done. There is a certain lack of loyalty amongst a certain group or groups of so called "soccer fans." AND Yes I did use that exact term for that exact reason. They're not football supporters. I don't believe the grand lot of them would shed blood for their club or take abuse when losing to a newly promoted yo yo club.
They can go fuck themselves just like the bad drivers on a Sunday morning. Don't expect anything from me; you've dug your own hole, go lay down in it.
~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
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