Yah I know the titles have left their usual format. Does it really matter? Perhaps no.
It comes down to a win away and a champions league draw to OM. I can't complain about that. OM is a tough team on a bad day. In their honor, I will listen to Keny Arkana, which seems quite appropriate at this juncture in time.
By the way, I find it astounding how many people simply have no clue about what is going on in the world around them, even in their own backyards. Quite disappointing really, this is why I put no faith in people who only wish to rise to the top without stopping to actually smell the daisies. It's all about how fast and not about having any kind of quality to life.
I, myself, am not the be all and know all of anything. However, I will not shrink away from enjoying my life instead of not enjoying it only to earn a few platitudes. The platitudes will fade and become fading script on an old newspaper or useless data on some computer disk somewhere in the world. It's all for naught if life is never enjoyed.
Anyways, enough of my raging. The future is here. HA! The future is fucked.
Come first of the year, maybe before or after depending on my level of lazy, the blog will hopefully be moving to my own domain. The plan is actually to do a 365 blog, for a number of reasons but there is a lot to say, er write.
I actually need to do some planning, sit down and decide which way I want it to look and feel. As you may have figured it will be a bit away from this one, yes there will still be the Football connections as well as some other things; Music, Art, Technology, Commentary, Politics, Philosophy, but most of all simply me and everything that means.
I think therefore I am; I write because I fucking can.
-LeChat
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
02 November 2011
22 August 2011
3 games 1 blog
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.
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.
07 March 2011
Orient at Home (FA) and Sunderland at Home
My what a lackluster week. To be honest, I could care less about either tie. It's kind of funny how one can be a hero on a Wednesday and a complete muppet by the weekend.
Nicklas Bendtner, please stand up!
Fact of the matter is you may think you're the bees knees but your consistency is severely lacking. The big head and the big feet need to be in communication.
Ahh, I'm not here to slag off on poor Nicky alone. Honestly there's no reason, no concrete reason to drop points at this stage of the season. With the United scum falling prey to the team that once was Liverpool, the Arsenal would be 1 point, ONE BLOODY SODDING POINT off the title.
However, this is not the team to do things the easy way. Let's not revisit the should have, could have and would haves of these last couple of weeks. It's trying. A man could be dying slowly in a pool of quicksand and you have about 33% chance of the Arsenal throwing the rope within arms reach, whether or not the rope doesn't break is a different story.
I know there are some reading this saying, "What kind of fan are you, slagging off your own squad like this? Are you some kind of glory hunter? If they don't win, you just whine."
To those I say, when you've been doing this as long as I have, you would understand the intimate and almost salacious relationship you have with your club. How that club comes to define your very being to the point of perversion. How, if you come up to my face and say those words to me, that I might actually haul off and hit you with nary hesitance or judiciousness.
When you have paid your dues and have been allocated your time, in that case, you may question my loyalty as I would question yours. In short, that is not for me to decide nor care about your loyalties or lack thereof.
I'm just saying, I've walked the valley of death and am prepared to stride once more with my head held high, in spite of what mine enemies and detractors would throw down upon me.
Oh to... Oh to be... Oh to be a Gooner!
~LeChat
Nicklas Bendtner, please stand up!
Fact of the matter is you may think you're the bees knees but your consistency is severely lacking. The big head and the big feet need to be in communication.
Ahh, I'm not here to slag off on poor Nicky alone. Honestly there's no reason, no concrete reason to drop points at this stage of the season. With the United scum falling prey to the team that once was Liverpool, the Arsenal would be 1 point, ONE BLOODY SODDING POINT off the title.
However, this is not the team to do things the easy way. Let's not revisit the should have, could have and would haves of these last couple of weeks. It's trying. A man could be dying slowly in a pool of quicksand and you have about 33% chance of the Arsenal throwing the rope within arms reach, whether or not the rope doesn't break is a different story.
I know there are some reading this saying, "What kind of fan are you, slagging off your own squad like this? Are you some kind of glory hunter? If they don't win, you just whine."
To those I say, when you've been doing this as long as I have, you would understand the intimate and almost salacious relationship you have with your club. How that club comes to define your very being to the point of perversion. How, if you come up to my face and say those words to me, that I might actually haul off and hit you with nary hesitance or judiciousness.
When you have paid your dues and have been allocated your time, in that case, you may question my loyalty as I would question yours. In short, that is not for me to decide nor care about your loyalties or lack thereof.
I'm just saying, I've walked the valley of death and am prepared to stride once more with my head held high, in spite of what mine enemies and detractors would throw down upon me.
Oh to... Oh to be... Oh to be a Gooner!
~LeChat
14 February 2011
Wolves at Home
Happy St. Valentine's day to you and yours or it, or whatever you decide to declare your romantic interests to. Whether it be an actual living breathing human being, a sheep or that nice soft sock/pillow, etc.. and so on.
This weekend we were met with the MancScum v. ManShitty derby. However, for myself, it was at a very inconvenient time in the morning. I decided it would best be spent getting myself ready for the proper match and not deal with the fair-weather rabble that tends to show up for these things.
Did I ever tell you how much I detest many MancScum so called fans? I'm not talking about the ones that I actually call friends, albeit in the loose vernacular term. I mean the ones who discovered United when xxx played for them or they won the double or the store down the street sold Beckham kits and he was/is still the best player ever.
You know the people I'm talking about. All clubs, at least on this side of the world have them; the glory hunter fan. There are a ton of these people, who don't know the history, only understand the geographical significance of this weekend's derby and only show up for the big games... when they're winning.
Now, I'll give you the respect if you just happened upon the sport at such a time and it is the reason you became interested, but don't feign interest when it's convenient. If I can't hold a conversation with you about the tactical significance of Coventry's midfield when they are playing Doncaster during a mid-table skirmish during a rainy boring nil nil on a Wednesday night, then we have nothing to go on about, do we?
Don't get me wrong, like I said, if you want to learn and spend time in the salt mines, like we all have, then much respect. However, you need to show up for more than the just the big games, when you are on top of the league.
/rant
The Arsenal match just happened to be on during the same time as the Liverpool match, so we were regulated to the side screen without sound. It didn't matter much to me as it was a much more comfortable match for the boys in red and white.
The Liverpool affair, I must say, was quite fun. At some point during the match, Shorts decided that Wigan needed some props, so to speak. He carefully blended a little ditty off of a Wu-Tang Clan chant, which started to bug a Scouser I'd never seen before. It was kind of funny but to his credit.
He was all about it until he found out that it was the 'latics was just short for athletics and had nothing to do with milk, courtesy of the Lady of Manchester. We'll accept that as true.
This morning was filled with an unusual surprise. Ronaldo (the real one or the fat one, whichever you prefer) is retiring. I remember when he first stepped out for Brasil and was a complete phenom. I even bought his biography, something I never do for footballers but it's an interesting story.
Actually, if Anelka wrote one, I'd buy that too, because I'm sure that's an interesting story. Also, I still haven't seen the Zidane movie, a 21st century portrait. If anyone can get your hands on it, I'd be truly grateful.
Anyways, I knew he'd been hurt and not playing much, definitely not playing to his full 100%. I can admit I actually shed a small tear. The goofy smile, big head and funky hairdo will be missed. I don't see him staying in football, maybe in a back office, running some camps or scouting or something but not as manager.
So to Ronaldo Luis Nazario de Lima, BOA SORTE!
(that bloody well better be correct!)
~LeChat
This weekend we were met with the MancScum v. ManShitty derby. However, for myself, it was at a very inconvenient time in the morning. I decided it would best be spent getting myself ready for the proper match and not deal with the fair-weather rabble that tends to show up for these things.
Did I ever tell you how much I detest many MancScum so called fans? I'm not talking about the ones that I actually call friends, albeit in the loose vernacular term. I mean the ones who discovered United when xxx played for them or they won the double or the store down the street sold Beckham kits and he was/is still the best player ever.
You know the people I'm talking about. All clubs, at least on this side of the world have them; the glory hunter fan. There are a ton of these people, who don't know the history, only understand the geographical significance of this weekend's derby and only show up for the big games... when they're winning.
Now, I'll give you the respect if you just happened upon the sport at such a time and it is the reason you became interested, but don't feign interest when it's convenient. If I can't hold a conversation with you about the tactical significance of Coventry's midfield when they are playing Doncaster during a mid-table skirmish during a rainy boring nil nil on a Wednesday night, then we have nothing to go on about, do we?
Don't get me wrong, like I said, if you want to learn and spend time in the salt mines, like we all have, then much respect. However, you need to show up for more than the just the big games, when you are on top of the league.
/rant
The Arsenal match just happened to be on during the same time as the Liverpool match, so we were regulated to the side screen without sound. It didn't matter much to me as it was a much more comfortable match for the boys in red and white.
The Liverpool affair, I must say, was quite fun. At some point during the match, Shorts decided that Wigan needed some props, so to speak. He carefully blended a little ditty off of a Wu-Tang Clan chant, which started to bug a Scouser I'd never seen before. It was kind of funny but to his credit.
WIGAN ATHLETIC AIN'T NOTHING TO FUCK WITH!
He was all about it until he found out that it was the 'latics was just short for athletics and had nothing to do with milk, courtesy of the Lady of Manchester. We'll accept that as true.
This morning was filled with an unusual surprise. Ronaldo (the real one or the fat one, whichever you prefer) is retiring. I remember when he first stepped out for Brasil and was a complete phenom. I even bought his biography, something I never do for footballers but it's an interesting story.
Actually, if Anelka wrote one, I'd buy that too, because I'm sure that's an interesting story. Also, I still haven't seen the Zidane movie, a 21st century portrait. If anyone can get your hands on it, I'd be truly grateful.
Anyways, I knew he'd been hurt and not playing much, definitely not playing to his full 100%. I can admit I actually shed a small tear. The goofy smile, big head and funky hairdo will be missed. I don't see him staying in football, maybe in a back office, running some camps or scouting or something but not as manager.
So to Ronaldo Luis Nazario de Lima, BOA SORTE!
(that bloody well better be correct!)
~LeChat
24 January 2011
Leeds Away (FA) and Wigan at Home
Well FA is said and done. Well Leeds got done, something to be said in that. It's always a good day when Leeds gets done. I spent my fine afternoon at work, looking at the Guardian play by play concerning the doing of Leeds.
Funny part about it, the Guardian is not allowed in Elland Road. It has something to do with reporting a story about the shadowy ownership of Leeds a few years back. There was a call for transparency which was met with a "you're not allowed in here, again, ever." Real mature but it is Leeds, should you expect more.
So, the weekend comes with no real surprises. Somehow along the way I had picked up a cold from someone. I don't want to point any fingers but someone did shake my hand and explain to me how they were sick all week. To that person, thanks a mil brutha, now I got this bloody cold.
It was bound to happen one way or another. It's the sickness time of year.
There was a fair number of MancScum supporters out this weekend, which was nice to see. It wasn't even a big game or anything, even a newer face. It's always good when someone new comes in and just jumps right in, like they belong; none of this trying hard to impress drek or any sort of thing like that. Hop up on a couch/stool or what have you, give a friendly nod and on with the football. Too bad everyone can't be like that.
I was going to do a whole rant about the sexism thing. The female linesman and what the two numptys on Sky had said. Honestly, it's been beaten to death already. The problem is inherent in the system, not to paraphrase Monty Python, but it is.
There is no need for the degradation of anyone based on gender, race, sexual or religious preference. It should be about doing the job. Apparently, the young woman in question does her job better than most of the men out there. I would like to add a plus she's much better looking but that just adds to the sexism fire.
I myself can often give into lad culture as well. I'm not going to pretend to be holier than thou or anything like that. However, in my heart of hearts, the referee is still a bastard, the linesman/woman is blind and Chelsea is a bunch of pillow-biting tossers.
In all seriousness though, there is no room for what those announcers did. There is no room for anything like that.
Is it destroying football?
That I do not know because it's been there and is still an ugly mark upon it's face.
Is there an easy solution?
No, there is never an easy solution.
Well what should we do?
Start subtly reminding everyone that they are probably an asshole, just like everyone else and get on with it. It's unnecessary to continue with ideas like that in this century. Whether the person is man/woman/black/white/Muslim/Hindu or whatever they may be; It has no bearing on the scoreline, well, unless the linesman/woman is truly blind.
~LeChat
Funny part about it, the Guardian is not allowed in Elland Road. It has something to do with reporting a story about the shadowy ownership of Leeds a few years back. There was a call for transparency which was met with a "you're not allowed in here, again, ever." Real mature but it is Leeds, should you expect more.
So, the weekend comes with no real surprises. Somehow along the way I had picked up a cold from someone. I don't want to point any fingers but someone did shake my hand and explain to me how they were sick all week. To that person, thanks a mil brutha, now I got this bloody cold.
It was bound to happen one way or another. It's the sickness time of year.
There was a fair number of MancScum supporters out this weekend, which was nice to see. It wasn't even a big game or anything, even a newer face. It's always good when someone new comes in and just jumps right in, like they belong; none of this trying hard to impress drek or any sort of thing like that. Hop up on a couch/stool or what have you, give a friendly nod and on with the football. Too bad everyone can't be like that.
I was going to do a whole rant about the sexism thing. The female linesman and what the two numptys on Sky had said. Honestly, it's been beaten to death already. The problem is inherent in the system, not to paraphrase Monty Python, but it is.
There is no need for the degradation of anyone based on gender, race, sexual or religious preference. It should be about doing the job. Apparently, the young woman in question does her job better than most of the men out there. I would like to add a plus she's much better looking but that just adds to the sexism fire.
I myself can often give into lad culture as well. I'm not going to pretend to be holier than thou or anything like that. However, in my heart of hearts, the referee is still a bastard, the linesman/woman is blind and Chelsea is a bunch of pillow-biting tossers.
In all seriousness though, there is no room for what those announcers did. There is no room for anything like that.
Is it destroying football?
That I do not know because it's been there and is still an ugly mark upon it's face.
Is there an easy solution?
No, there is never an easy solution.
Well what should we do?
Start subtly reminding everyone that they are probably an asshole, just like everyone else and get on with it. It's unnecessary to continue with ideas like that in this century. Whether the person is man/woman/black/white/Muslim/Hindu or whatever they may be; It has no bearing on the scoreline, well, unless the linesman/woman is truly blind.
~LeChat
04 January 2011
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
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
20 December 2010
s-NOOOOOOOO Football
Surprise!
I heard a rumour of 3 inches in one hour around the Grove. I mean that's what I heard so I'm not going to question it. It must be true.
My weekend consisted of going to see Tron in 3D. It's a decent remake/sequel of the old movie. I'm not going to give a full review cause it has nothing to do with football at all.
Well I suppose it has something to do with my life... and this blog is related to my life and it's parallel dimension to the world of football.
Saturday morning I woke up, as usual, bright and early. I took a nice shower, and did the things you normally do after you wake up. I hop on the good old computer thing and take a look at the action.
I knew some things might be canceled because of the recent English weather but I couldn't believe almost everything was canceled. I had to take a quick look at my day and figured that this weekend would be a bust football wise, at least.
Sunday was spent doing much the same. Not much. As expected, more cancellations. I did however get to catch up on some video watching. By the way, the discovery channel 2008 Iditarod series, not really worth it. While I do enjoy my sled dog racing, the low raspy talking "expect something bad to happen" commentator needs to go. Give me the nasally Alaskan in the helicopter any day. OVER-Produced.
Much like what ESPN has tried to do to proper football; Over produce the crap out of it and then spoon feed it to the unwashed. I know it's all about viewership and making it feel comfortable to Joe and Mary America. However, you alienate the same who actually got you to put the game on the television to begin with.
Reminds me of the time Fox took over the NHL and started doing the glowing puck thing. What a disaster! The glow was never where it was supposed to be and served more of a distraction to the regular watchers of the sport than to the new viewership that it was trying to capture and that never would stick around to begin with.
My thing is, if you want to get into something, really want to understand the world around you. You take your time, pay your dues and come out a whole lot better than having it given to you bygod, er I mean Corporate Run Media Conglomerates.
I know you can call me a hypocrite because the same could be said about the BBC, however the BBC has had match of the day in place since forever and a day and that is the formula.
I'm not knocking media coverage in general, just specific things. CBC had hockey night, so Fox, buy a clue. BBC has match of the day, so ESPN, buy a clue. There's a reason these things work. I wouldn't ask either of those broadcasters to reinvent Baseball or American Football coverage, especially when they have no history with it. So, FOX and ESPN, have your field day with that.
If you want people to be into the sport and really be into it and watching it. It's not in game day presentation. It is in the grassroots. Why don't you start reaching down a little bit, college games or even sponsor some childrens' leagues? Why don't you give back to the community that you force to watch your stupid ass commercials and dancing robots. Your revenue is nothing without a good foundation.
~LeChat
I heard a rumour of 3 inches in one hour around the Grove. I mean that's what I heard so I'm not going to question it. It must be true.
My weekend consisted of going to see Tron in 3D. It's a decent remake/sequel of the old movie. I'm not going to give a full review cause it has nothing to do with football at all.
Well I suppose it has something to do with my life... and this blog is related to my life and it's parallel dimension to the world of football.
Saturday morning I woke up, as usual, bright and early. I took a nice shower, and did the things you normally do after you wake up. I hop on the good old computer thing and take a look at the action.
I knew some things might be canceled because of the recent English weather but I couldn't believe almost everything was canceled. I had to take a quick look at my day and figured that this weekend would be a bust football wise, at least.
Sunday was spent doing much the same. Not much. As expected, more cancellations. I did however get to catch up on some video watching. By the way, the discovery channel 2008 Iditarod series, not really worth it. While I do enjoy my sled dog racing, the low raspy talking "expect something bad to happen" commentator needs to go. Give me the nasally Alaskan in the helicopter any day. OVER-Produced.
Much like what ESPN has tried to do to proper football; Over produce the crap out of it and then spoon feed it to the unwashed. I know it's all about viewership and making it feel comfortable to Joe and Mary America. However, you alienate the same who actually got you to put the game on the television to begin with.
Reminds me of the time Fox took over the NHL and started doing the glowing puck thing. What a disaster! The glow was never where it was supposed to be and served more of a distraction to the regular watchers of the sport than to the new viewership that it was trying to capture and that never would stick around to begin with.
My thing is, if you want to get into something, really want to understand the world around you. You take your time, pay your dues and come out a whole lot better than having it given to you by
I know you can call me a hypocrite because the same could be said about the BBC, however the BBC has had match of the day in place since forever and a day and that is the formula.
I'm not knocking media coverage in general, just specific things. CBC had hockey night, so Fox, buy a clue. BBC has match of the day, so ESPN, buy a clue. There's a reason these things work. I wouldn't ask either of those broadcasters to reinvent Baseball or American Football coverage, especially when they have no history with it. So, FOX and ESPN, have your field day with that.
If you want people to be into the sport and really be into it and watching it. It's not in game day presentation. It is in the grassroots. Why don't you start reaching down a little bit, college games or even sponsor some childrens' leagues? Why don't you give back to the community that you force to watch your stupid ass commercials and dancing robots. Your revenue is nothing without a good foundation.
~LeChat
25 November 2010
Sporting Braga Away (CL) - Thanksgiving Issue
...
I wasn't going to write anything but I figured that would be unfair, not only to myself but to the greater cosmos. I mean it's one thing for me to put in half ass performance, but I'm not getting paid for it. This is more of an intellectual exercise than anything else.
Dissatisfaction seems to be an appropriate word. The sky is not really blue. The sea is polluted by a floating island of garbage. Putin is asking for help to save the tigers. The poor tigers, over hunted and decimated.
Babies are being born. The lights still come on after the storm. The roads are quite nice. Scientist are curing the incurable.
Life goes on; Win, Loss, or Draw.
In the US it is Thanksgiving evening. A day/night to be thankful for the bounty that has been given to us. However, in the US there is also an overwhelming degree of self-entitlement in the form of stupidity and ignorance as well.
I'm sure it's happening in other places, but I can only speak of things I deal with on a daily basis. So in essence, thankful for what has been given, obtained and shared; annoyed by what stands in the way of progress and human empathy.
Win...Loss...Draw
~LeChat
I wasn't going to write anything but I figured that would be unfair, not only to myself but to the greater cosmos. I mean it's one thing for me to put in half ass performance, but I'm not getting paid for it. This is more of an intellectual exercise than anything else.
Dissatisfaction seems to be an appropriate word. The sky is not really blue. The sea is polluted by a floating island of garbage. Putin is asking for help to save the tigers. The poor tigers, over hunted and decimated.
Babies are being born. The lights still come on after the storm. The roads are quite nice. Scientist are curing the incurable.
Life goes on; Win, Loss, or Draw.
In the US it is Thanksgiving evening. A day/night to be thankful for the bounty that has been given to us. However, in the US there is also an overwhelming degree of self-entitlement in the form of stupidity and ignorance as well.
I'm sure it's happening in other places, but I can only speak of things I deal with on a daily basis. So in essence, thankful for what has been given, obtained and shared; annoyed by what stands in the way of progress and human empathy.
Win...Loss...Draw
~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
08 July 2010
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
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
13 June 2010
England - US WC2010
The day started off quite good enough. HalfArseDean gave me a call about 5:30 so that we could stake claim to the regulars section. After doing all the regular morning rituals, I found myself meeting up with him, ManCity himself and The Manager in Black. Apparently MIB was still working from the night before, so it was a bit of a surprise.
It was interesting to see a few US supporters straggling in at the early hour. Actually it was more than a few, quite a bit I must say. At this point in time, the pub was beginning to look like a normal Saturday. The bar was full, a few of the regulars were spread amongst the couches, a murmured anticipation for a match to be shown and A Certain Scouser, who said she would be there... was still not there. The Librarian even called her... no answer.... typical!
Right around kick off for the first game, we had added a few Greek fans and a nice bunch of Korea supporters. They were all keen on watching the game, which was a brilliant show for the South Korean lads. It was a good mood all about.
By the end of that game, many more US supporters had come through the door. A few more of the regulars had shown, thus establishing the corner under the big screens and the couches for the late comers. It was a victory in our minds at least. This way we'd all be together.
A comment was made to me about myself and the regulars were being a bit "snooty", after I had mentioned not being fond of particular supporters. I shrugged and said "it's not really that but the attitudes of some of the newer people, especially supporters of a certain national team, is a lot less to be desired."
I was then pressed a bit to give a more elaborate answer, which I avoided. Honestly, I just like watching football with those who I know understand the game, have serious passion for the game and for the most part, live the game.
So, do we as regulars have an Us vs. Them complex at times, in short, Yes. Football is a territorial sport to begin with. In it's simplest form, it's all about controlling your territory and pushing the enemy or opponent back deep into theirs, overcoming their defensive line and putting one through past the minder.
You could use that analogy for many sports but it actually fits rather perfectly for Football and the derivatives or cousins, depending with whom you are speaking, that being American Football and Rugby.
So, I wouldn't say the regulars are "snooty" because we are a rather welcoming group. I know there were a few sitting with us who were not regulars but may have showed up for a game over the season or just met one of their friends down there once or twice. I'm sure they would have a very different take on the territorial regulars. Basically it comes down to being respectful of the game, the pub and the people, not very hard but some people can't help but to be an ass.
By the middle of the Argie - Nigeria game, the pub was beginning to meet maximum capacity. I think the fire marshal even peeked his head in for a few minutes. Our corner actually waved to him and he nodded and laughed. It was nice to see Nigeria not doing half bad and their keeper was on spot. It would have been even more beautiful to have seen them with a bit more bite in the final third.
After the game, came the long wait for the matinee match. I believe all the English regulars had shown up by this time and a few who were not but they joined us up in the front. The songs began flowing, most of it was one way traffic. However, the extreme number of US supporters did bring their couple of chants to a deafening level. I will say that was quite brilliant.
At some point in time, SlainteLOSC dragged me outside to be interviewed for some documentary that was being done by the pub. I was totally unprepared and hate being on the wrong side of the camera. I can't even actually remember what I said, besides my name and that I supported Arsenal and France and that the pub was a great place to watch the games.
It's funny. I can ramble on and on about the game and the cup and all sorts of things but put a camera in front of my face, without any prompts and being by myself. It does become rather odd for me. I think he was trying to capture my soul.
I spent a few hours trying to settle in to a good spot in the middle of the crowd, so I could see the game and be able to speak to some of the crew. It was nice that some of my mates that I had been watching football with since 2000-2001(?) season were there. Some of the original 6, three had moved away and one had a couple of kids. GrumpyGooner and myself were the only two left that show up for games on the regular now. However, Jazz was able to put the tykes in England kits and leave them with mom and Derm had some work in the area.
I remember when we all really became close after watching a couple of seasons in Canton (the pub had not opened yet and was another bar). We had found ourselves watching the Euros in Si's basement. England-France and England were up for most of the game. The texture of the game turned in a matter of moments. Mind you this was the France of Zizou and Henry, which had the capability of scoring at any given moment. I won't relive the whole show but let's just say the originals all have a healthy respect for each other and thank god for that. France won 2-1 in extra time after being 1-nil down the whole game.
So it was nice to see the lads gathered together. However, like I have been saying without saying it, the game would be tainted by some of the supporters. First instance, which happened during the Nigeria game, was one of the more annoying fans, who had been there since 630 or so, decided to walk up to Girlfriend, who just happened to be the only obvious England supporter at the pub at the time.
Girlfriend was ready for something to happen as the guy seemed a bit aggressive for no reason at all. At this time, I had returned to the table and Bayern started removing his sunglasses and watch. The guy was blabbering on about something and Girlfriend nodded his head a few times, then the guy's posture changed and he wished him luck.
However, instead of leaving it at that, the guy goes into some weird Irish accent and said a few more things before walking away. We all look at each other and were completely dumbfounded. We chuckled as the tension for a possible aggro situation died down.
A second situation came about during the match. I'm sure there were some minor ones in the middle there but nothing as egregious as this one. I was standing near the front of one of the tables and one of the random US supporters was near me, he kept bumping into me, which wasn't a big deal at all, just a bit annoying, but it was crowded so benefit of the doubt.
At one point in time, this dude, who looked like a cheap copy of Johnny from the Karate Kid, turns around and is asking about people supporting England. He then goes on to say something to the effect of "There aren't any black players on the English team." DJM and myself were like "What did you say?" in unison, none the less. I am quite glad that DJM also heard the guy, so I didn't think I was going crazy.
Fake Johnny goes on with, "Well there's Ledley King but that's it."
I am looking at him like he's gone completely nuts, I think DJM might have said there were plenty of black guys on the English team and that Fake Johnny was crazy. Fake Johnny, however, insisted on continuing and turns to ask me "Who else?"
I point up to the screen and told him, "You are blind, just look." And I kid you not, there were three black English players on the screen at the time, as if on cue. I shake my head at him and start naming them but the guy would not let the conversation go.
He started telling me something about his adopted brother who was black. I'm just looking at him, trying not to hit him and shaking my head. I let him know, under no uncertain terms that I basically did not care and to drop the conversation and watch the game. I may have said it to him about 3 or 4 times but he was testing my patience.
He asked me if I knew someone that played in Germany. I told him I didn't because I don't watch German football and could care less. Still this dude was trying to have a conversation, in which I just ended it by telling him to "fuck off and watch the game," then I removed myself as it and myself was about to go off.
I squeezed pass the Evertonian and put myself in the corner with the Originals, Sheffield and T-bone. They immediately caught wind of what was going on from the look of my face and my balled up fist. I explained the situation and one or two stated that if he keeps it up, we'd have him a bit later but just enjoy the match for now.
The most brilliant moment came when Heskey slid into Howard and giving him a bit of cleat to the chest. One of the originals started in with, "HESKEY IS A BLACK MAN" chant, to which the whole English corner joined in, as we all glared at the back of Fake Johnny's head.
I noticed shortly after Fake Johnny was outside speaking with DJM, not sure what was being said but I'm hoping he understands that just because you have an adopted black brother who plays some football, does not preclude you from being the typical idiot that you are.
I hate to say this is what I usually run into with US fans. They automatically look at me and assume I'm a US fan, like them. My only guess is because I have dark skin and speak English at least this one notion that my mother keened me into, wise woman that she is. I ran into a couple more situations, not as grand as the one with Fake Johnny, but very similar.
Some dude, and yes I'm calling all the ones that bothered me dude as it's so appropriate, stops me on my way back from the toilets. He said something about who I was supporting and then something about communists. Once again, where do these things come from? I must have gave him a strange look and told him I was Canadien and not to bother me which threw him off as he didn't know what else to say except "Fuck you." When I looked back at him he threw up his hands and said he was kidding.
Honestly, come on now, this is the way the rest of the world views the US Soccer nation, Sam's Army or whatever name they are going by at this time. It was a very poor showing. I remember another US fan grabbing me and talking to me for a brief few moments. A very nice guy, yes there were a few, actually he reminded me of ArsenalBob. I'm guessing he figured I wasn't there for the US and he asked me why I looked so angry. I told him that some of his other US supporters were in short, "a bunch of dicks." He reassured me that not all of them were like that, I nodded and we shook hands wishing each other luck and good times.
All in all, despite the minor headache of dealing with the general rabble of US supporters displaying their typical selves, it was a good time. Watching football with some of the Originals and many of the regulars. It's nice that we don't have to wait the 2 1/2 months to see some good games. Let's hope the rest of the days are equally fun, with a lot less stupidity.
~LeChat
It was interesting to see a few US supporters straggling in at the early hour. Actually it was more than a few, quite a bit I must say. At this point in time, the pub was beginning to look like a normal Saturday. The bar was full, a few of the regulars were spread amongst the couches, a murmured anticipation for a match to be shown and A Certain Scouser, who said she would be there... was still not there. The Librarian even called her... no answer.... typical!
Right around kick off for the first game, we had added a few Greek fans and a nice bunch of Korea supporters. They were all keen on watching the game, which was a brilliant show for the South Korean lads. It was a good mood all about.
By the end of that game, many more US supporters had come through the door. A few more of the regulars had shown, thus establishing the corner under the big screens and the couches for the late comers. It was a victory in our minds at least. This way we'd all be together.
A comment was made to me about myself and the regulars were being a bit "snooty", after I had mentioned not being fond of particular supporters. I shrugged and said "it's not really that but the attitudes of some of the newer people, especially supporters of a certain national team, is a lot less to be desired."
I was then pressed a bit to give a more elaborate answer, which I avoided. Honestly, I just like watching football with those who I know understand the game, have serious passion for the game and for the most part, live the game.
So, do we as regulars have an Us vs. Them complex at times, in short, Yes. Football is a territorial sport to begin with. In it's simplest form, it's all about controlling your territory and pushing the enemy or opponent back deep into theirs, overcoming their defensive line and putting one through past the minder.
You could use that analogy for many sports but it actually fits rather perfectly for Football and the derivatives or cousins, depending with whom you are speaking, that being American Football and Rugby.
So, I wouldn't say the regulars are "snooty" because we are a rather welcoming group. I know there were a few sitting with us who were not regulars but may have showed up for a game over the season or just met one of their friends down there once or twice. I'm sure they would have a very different take on the territorial regulars. Basically it comes down to being respectful of the game, the pub and the people, not very hard but some people can't help but to be an ass.
By the middle of the Argie - Nigeria game, the pub was beginning to meet maximum capacity. I think the fire marshal even peeked his head in for a few minutes. Our corner actually waved to him and he nodded and laughed. It was nice to see Nigeria not doing half bad and their keeper was on spot. It would have been even more beautiful to have seen them with a bit more bite in the final third.
After the game, came the long wait for the matinee match. I believe all the English regulars had shown up by this time and a few who were not but they joined us up in the front. The songs began flowing, most of it was one way traffic. However, the extreme number of US supporters did bring their couple of chants to a deafening level. I will say that was quite brilliant.
At some point in time, SlainteLOSC dragged me outside to be interviewed for some documentary that was being done by the pub. I was totally unprepared and hate being on the wrong side of the camera. I can't even actually remember what I said, besides my name and that I supported Arsenal and France and that the pub was a great place to watch the games.
It's funny. I can ramble on and on about the game and the cup and all sorts of things but put a camera in front of my face, without any prompts and being by myself. It does become rather odd for me. I think he was trying to capture my soul.
I spent a few hours trying to settle in to a good spot in the middle of the crowd, so I could see the game and be able to speak to some of the crew. It was nice that some of my mates that I had been watching football with since 2000-2001(?) season were there. Some of the original 6, three had moved away and one had a couple of kids. GrumpyGooner and myself were the only two left that show up for games on the regular now. However, Jazz was able to put the tykes in England kits and leave them with mom and Derm had some work in the area.
I remember when we all really became close after watching a couple of seasons in Canton (the pub had not opened yet and was another bar). We had found ourselves watching the Euros in Si's basement. England-France and England were up for most of the game. The texture of the game turned in a matter of moments. Mind you this was the France of Zizou and Henry, which had the capability of scoring at any given moment. I won't relive the whole show but let's just say the originals all have a healthy respect for each other and thank god for that. France won 2-1 in extra time after being 1-nil down the whole game.
So it was nice to see the lads gathered together. However, like I have been saying without saying it, the game would be tainted by some of the supporters. First instance, which happened during the Nigeria game, was one of the more annoying fans, who had been there since 630 or so, decided to walk up to Girlfriend, who just happened to be the only obvious England supporter at the pub at the time.
Girlfriend was ready for something to happen as the guy seemed a bit aggressive for no reason at all. At this time, I had returned to the table and Bayern started removing his sunglasses and watch. The guy was blabbering on about something and Girlfriend nodded his head a few times, then the guy's posture changed and he wished him luck.
However, instead of leaving it at that, the guy goes into some weird Irish accent and said a few more things before walking away. We all look at each other and were completely dumbfounded. We chuckled as the tension for a possible aggro situation died down.
A second situation came about during the match. I'm sure there were some minor ones in the middle there but nothing as egregious as this one. I was standing near the front of one of the tables and one of the random US supporters was near me, he kept bumping into me, which wasn't a big deal at all, just a bit annoying, but it was crowded so benefit of the doubt.
At one point in time, this dude, who looked like a cheap copy of Johnny from the Karate Kid, turns around and is asking about people supporting England. He then goes on to say something to the effect of "There aren't any black players on the English team." DJM and myself were like "What did you say?" in unison, none the less. I am quite glad that DJM also heard the guy, so I didn't think I was going crazy.
Fake Johnny goes on with, "Well there's Ledley King but that's it."
I am looking at him like he's gone completely nuts, I think DJM might have said there were plenty of black guys on the English team and that Fake Johnny was crazy. Fake Johnny, however, insisted on continuing and turns to ask me "Who else?"
I point up to the screen and told him, "You are blind, just look." And I kid you not, there were three black English players on the screen at the time, as if on cue. I shake my head at him and start naming them but the guy would not let the conversation go.
He started telling me something about his adopted brother who was black. I'm just looking at him, trying not to hit him and shaking my head. I let him know, under no uncertain terms that I basically did not care and to drop the conversation and watch the game. I may have said it to him about 3 or 4 times but he was testing my patience.
He asked me if I knew someone that played in Germany. I told him I didn't because I don't watch German football and could care less. Still this dude was trying to have a conversation, in which I just ended it by telling him to "fuck off and watch the game," then I removed myself as it and myself was about to go off.
I squeezed pass the Evertonian and put myself in the corner with the Originals, Sheffield and T-bone. They immediately caught wind of what was going on from the look of my face and my balled up fist. I explained the situation and one or two stated that if he keeps it up, we'd have him a bit later but just enjoy the match for now.
The most brilliant moment came when Heskey slid into Howard and giving him a bit of cleat to the chest. One of the originals started in with, "HESKEY IS A BLACK MAN" chant, to which the whole English corner joined in, as we all glared at the back of Fake Johnny's head.
I noticed shortly after Fake Johnny was outside speaking with DJM, not sure what was being said but I'm hoping he understands that just because you have an adopted black brother who plays some football, does not preclude you from being the typical idiot that you are.
I hate to say this is what I usually run into with US fans. They automatically look at me and assume I'm a US fan, like them. My only guess is because I have dark skin and speak English at least this one notion that my mother keened me into, wise woman that she is. I ran into a couple more situations, not as grand as the one with Fake Johnny, but very similar.
Some dude, and yes I'm calling all the ones that bothered me dude as it's so appropriate, stops me on my way back from the toilets. He said something about who I was supporting and then something about communists. Once again, where do these things come from? I must have gave him a strange look and told him I was Canadien and not to bother me which threw him off as he didn't know what else to say except "Fuck you." When I looked back at him he threw up his hands and said he was kidding.
Honestly, come on now, this is the way the rest of the world views the US Soccer nation, Sam's Army or whatever name they are going by at this time. It was a very poor showing. I remember another US fan grabbing me and talking to me for a brief few moments. A very nice guy, yes there were a few, actually he reminded me of ArsenalBob. I'm guessing he figured I wasn't there for the US and he asked me why I looked so angry. I told him that some of his other US supporters were in short, "a bunch of dicks." He reassured me that not all of them were like that, I nodded and we shook hands wishing each other luck and good times.
All in all, despite the minor headache of dealing with the general rabble of US supporters displaying their typical selves, it was a good time. Watching football with some of the Originals and many of the regulars. It's nice that we don't have to wait the 2 1/2 months to see some good games. Let's hope the rest of the days are equally fun, with a lot less stupidity.
~LeChat
03 May 2010
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.
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
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
19 April 2010
Wigan Away
FUCK!
That explains it all. A whole weekend of...
FUCK!
I really don't have much to say about that matter. A comfortable 2-nil that was decimated in a matter of 10 minutes.
EXACTLY 10 MINUTES
80', 89', 90'
What else can happen in 10 minutes?
Apparently there's a student film about it. You can look it up yourself cause I frankly can not be bothered to share the link. Similar to someone not being too bothered with...
KEEPING THE FUCKING BALL OUT OF THE NET!
By the way, if anyone has called me since Sunday and I haven't answered my phone or returned your calls... I do apologize.
~LeChat
That explains it all. A whole weekend of...
FUCK!
I really don't have much to say about that matter. A comfortable 2-nil that was decimated in a matter of 10 minutes.
EXACTLY 10 MINUTES
80', 89', 90'
What else can happen in 10 minutes?
Apparently there's a student film about it. You can look it up yourself cause I frankly can not be bothered to share the link. Similar to someone not being too bothered with...
KEEPING THE FUCKING BALL OUT OF THE NET!
By the way, if anyone has called me since Sunday and I haven't answered my phone or returned your calls... I do apologize.
~LeChat
29 March 2010
Birmingham Away
Dear Arsenal Keeper,
You are officially a muppet. You and Mr. Bendtner need to go find a blue weirdo and do remakes of the muppet show. Why, you may ask? BECAUSE you are officially a muppet.
Yours Truly,
LeChat
Seriously, I think this whole weekend plotted against me worst than communist on a small Caribbean island. If it wasn't one thing then it must have been another. I could not catch a single break.
You may be saying, "OH something good must have happened."
I say, "Nope, not really, well the first half was ok, but then the second half trotted along, only to be bobbled like a ball handled by a Spanish born keeper in the 90+ minute. This weekend was UNDERWHELMING and LACKING OF CONFIDENCE. In short, a great disappointment."
Saturday, had the usual Chelski bunch who enjoyed their destruction of a lack luster Villa side. I am not even sure how that happened and am beginning to wonder what the fuck are Villa doing in the EPL and how the fuck are they mid-table?
Alas, poor Villa, I do not care to know thee well.
The changing of the hours has really messed things up as far as I am concerned. Why do we do this now? At least we could change the same time as the rest of the world.
So the dull roar of Sunday puttered in like a garden variety snail. Nothing exciting at all. I appeared at the pub a little early for the Scouser match, just because. Would you believe that only a handful of them showed? It was a sorely disappointing weekend. The funny thing is they actually won a match. The mop head Torres even put a nice one in to start the scoring.
Later, as I was leaving the city ACMilan decided to give me a call and let me know he was in town. I turned my car around and headed back to the pub to keep him company through what was actually a semi-decent Serie A match.
I will say I was being a bit anti-social all the way around and took off for home shortly thereafter. I decided it was best to start spring cleaning the Volkswagen.
*PRODUCT PLUG*
RAIN-X Glass Cleaner works wonders on your windshield!
*/PRODUCT PLUG*
So where does that leave us? What has this weekend taught us?
1. The ball is round.
2. Frank Lampard still looks like a ****
3. Almunia and Aluminum, just may be synonymous
4. The game is 90 fucking minutes... not 80 fucking 9 you fucking muppet!
5. Ricky Martin is gay... you should have known that
Now only if we can get CR9 to come out.
~LeChat
You are officially a muppet. You and Mr. Bendtner need to go find a blue weirdo and do remakes of the muppet show. Why, you may ask? BECAUSE you are officially a muppet.
Yours Truly,
LeChat
Seriously, I think this whole weekend plotted against me worst than communist on a small Caribbean island. If it wasn't one thing then it must have been another. I could not catch a single break.
You may be saying, "OH something good must have happened."
I say, "Nope, not really, well the first half was ok, but then the second half trotted along, only to be bobbled like a ball handled by a Spanish born keeper in the 90+ minute. This weekend was UNDERWHELMING and LACKING OF CONFIDENCE. In short, a great disappointment."
Saturday, had the usual Chelski bunch who enjoyed their destruction of a lack luster Villa side. I am not even sure how that happened and am beginning to wonder what the fuck are Villa doing in the EPL and how the fuck are they mid-table?
Alas, poor Villa, I do not care to know thee well.
The changing of the hours has really messed things up as far as I am concerned. Why do we do this now? At least we could change the same time as the rest of the world.
So the dull roar of Sunday puttered in like a garden variety snail. Nothing exciting at all. I appeared at the pub a little early for the Scouser match, just because. Would you believe that only a handful of them showed? It was a sorely disappointing weekend. The funny thing is they actually won a match. The mop head Torres even put a nice one in to start the scoring.
Later, as I was leaving the city ACMilan decided to give me a call and let me know he was in town. I turned my car around and headed back to the pub to keep him company through what was actually a semi-decent Serie A match.
I will say I was being a bit anti-social all the way around and took off for home shortly thereafter. I decided it was best to start spring cleaning the Volkswagen.
*PRODUCT PLUG*
RAIN-X Glass Cleaner works wonders on your windshield!
*/PRODUCT PLUG*
So where does that leave us? What has this weekend taught us?
1. The ball is round.
2. Frank Lampard still looks like a ****
3. Almunia and Aluminum, just may be synonymous
4. The game is 90 fucking minutes... not 80 fucking 9 you fucking muppet!
5. Ricky Martin is gay... you should have known that
Now only if we can get CR9 to come out.
~LeChat
15 March 2010
Porto (CL) and Hull Away
Midweek?
Yah, who cares. A solid trouncing of that big Portuguese club. Did you expect anything less? What was I doing, absolutely nothing. I was working, it was a mid-week match and that's all I ever do when there is a mid-week match, unless I have the glorious luck to be allowed a day off for whatever dead person who probably accomplished a lot more in theirs than I did in my 30 odd years of life.
So in short, I was too in shock to post because Beeker himself scored a hat trick. ArseBob even texted me the result and I was still in disbelief. Yes, my pink boot wearing muppet looking friend scored a hat trick. So I decided to wait and see what would happen this weekend.
Saturday
Life, which this blog is really about, is similar to football. So like football, the game is 90 minutes and the ball is round... those are the only two things that are certain; more or less death and taxes.
The pub, this morning, smelled of wet dog due to it not only being rainy but a large, and by large I mean world cup final amount large, number of St. Patrick's Festivities 5k runners decided to occupy my beloved little space in the world.
However, being the bunch we are, we were determined not to be moved by foul stench of undeodorized runner shoes and sweat. I am coughing just thinking of it. I knew I should have brought that can of oust with me.
Undeterred, I hopped on a bar stool next to one of the Chelski boys and proceeded to elbow the unlucky and very hairy gentleman beside me. I will mention, I did not do it on purpose but he was invading my territory; la Résistance was not going to let it happen again.
(cue La Marseillaise)
The long and short of it, the Chelski boys tried to sing them out of the pub but that didn't work out well enough. The only thing I knew for sure is that they would be gone by the time of the Arsenal match and that was my only concern.
Fucking HULL and their fucking manager, who by the way was put on "gardening" leave for being a complete and utter twat, just like his wanky little midfielder Boateng. I hate to say it but I am glad Cesc was not on the pitch for this stupidity.
The rest of the afternoon went along quite well, had a great conversation with a Rugby supporter, however we talked about everything else except sport. After which, I decided to follow Vinny up to another pub and had a very nice bleu cheese burger, not as good as thebarnextdoor but decent enough.
The night was capped off with me trying to fall asleep, yet my body trying to keep me awake. I blame that Mr. Van Gogh and his espresso. By the way, my superstar player name is seriously going to be Vennegoor of Hesselink. I want my name to form a horseshoe on my back. I should change it to something more appropriate though.
Sunday
I declared Sunday my non-football day. One because I was massively drained from the night before and two, the Formula 1 was on and I can watch it from my bed. Well I can listen to it, as I was way too tired to do much watching. By the way, I believe they have now got some of the worst announcers on television.
There used to be a good team but this one gentleman, of course the American accented one, made me want to pull out my brain. I guess the station does this to try and get more of a state-side audience but those things always fail in my book. Really, that 2 percent demographic in Peoria isn't going to turn to Formula 1, even though Juan Pablo went to Nascar. Say Whaaat?
I took my day of rest and spent it resting as Station (my band) had a show that evening in support of a good friend premiering his video and raising money to get a PA for speaking during his demos.
Matt was diagnosed with diabetes some time ago and has lost sight because of it. He, however, decided to not let it handicap him and has been doing Bike Trials Riding. He has been on NPR and several other outlets speaking for and about diabetes.
(Link to his site)
*Not the actual video but I thought I would share an earlier one.*
I believe he still may need some more donations, but if you have a moment, check out his videos, youtube/facebook blind bike trials and just give a hello. I'm sure he'll appreciate it.
By the way, Liverpool won...
~LeChat
Yah, who cares. A solid trouncing of that big Portuguese club. Did you expect anything less? What was I doing, absolutely nothing. I was working, it was a mid-week match and that's all I ever do when there is a mid-week match, unless I have the glorious luck to be allowed a day off for whatever dead person who probably accomplished a lot more in theirs than I did in my 30 odd years of life.
So in short, I was too in shock to post because Beeker himself scored a hat trick. ArseBob even texted me the result and I was still in disbelief. Yes, my pink boot wearing muppet looking friend scored a hat trick. So I decided to wait and see what would happen this weekend.
Saturday
Life, which this blog is really about, is similar to football. So like football, the game is 90 minutes and the ball is round... those are the only two things that are certain; more or less death and taxes.
The pub, this morning, smelled of wet dog due to it not only being rainy but a large, and by large I mean world cup final amount large, number of St. Patrick's Festivities 5k runners decided to occupy my beloved little space in the world.
However, being the bunch we are, we were determined not to be moved by foul stench of undeodorized runner shoes and sweat. I am coughing just thinking of it. I knew I should have brought that can of oust with me.
Undeterred, I hopped on a bar stool next to one of the Chelski boys and proceeded to elbow the unlucky and very hairy gentleman beside me. I will mention, I did not do it on purpose but he was invading my territory; la Résistance was not going to let it happen again.
(cue La Marseillaise)
The long and short of it, the Chelski boys tried to sing them out of the pub but that didn't work out well enough. The only thing I knew for sure is that they would be gone by the time of the Arsenal match and that was my only concern.
Fucking HULL and their fucking manager, who by the way was put on "gardening" leave for being a complete and utter twat, just like his wanky little midfielder Boateng. I hate to say it but I am glad Cesc was not on the pitch for this stupidity.
The rest of the afternoon went along quite well, had a great conversation with a Rugby supporter, however we talked about everything else except sport. After which, I decided to follow Vinny up to another pub and had a very nice bleu cheese burger, not as good as thebarnextdoor but decent enough.
The night was capped off with me trying to fall asleep, yet my body trying to keep me awake. I blame that Mr. Van Gogh and his espresso. By the way, my superstar player name is seriously going to be Vennegoor of Hesselink. I want my name to form a horseshoe on my back. I should change it to something more appropriate though.
Sunday
I declared Sunday my non-football day. One because I was massively drained from the night before and two, the Formula 1 was on and I can watch it from my bed. Well I can listen to it, as I was way too tired to do much watching. By the way, I believe they have now got some of the worst announcers on television.
There used to be a good team but this one gentleman, of course the American accented one, made me want to pull out my brain. I guess the station does this to try and get more of a state-side audience but those things always fail in my book. Really, that 2 percent demographic in Peoria isn't going to turn to Formula 1, even though Juan Pablo went to Nascar. Say Whaaat?
I took my day of rest and spent it resting as Station (my band) had a show that evening in support of a good friend premiering his video and raising money to get a PA for speaking during his demos.
Matt was diagnosed with diabetes some time ago and has lost sight because of it. He, however, decided to not let it handicap him and has been doing Bike Trials Riding. He has been on NPR and several other outlets speaking for and about diabetes.
(Link to his site)
*Not the actual video but I thought I would share an earlier one.*
I believe he still may need some more donations, but if you have a moment, check out his videos, youtube/facebook blind bike trials and just give a hello. I'm sure he'll appreciate it.
By the way, Liverpool won...
~LeChat
22 February 2010
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.
-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.
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
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
11 February 2010
Liverpool at Home
Once again the red tide of Scouse has been turned back during a mid-week fixture. As usual, yours truly could not avail himself to witness it at the pub, due to reasons beyond his control and for once, not concerning actually being at work.
Yes, that's right. SNOW BOUND, like a 19th century family trying to get through the Sierra Nevadas with only a few days rations and sick children. Something has got to give and if I have to resort to cannibalism, so be it.
ArsenalTV, however, gave me hope of watching, in shambled fashion, the match. It's sort of like watching a bad security tape or web-cam.
OH there's an image...there's another image...OH WAIT a couple of seconds of movement...
You can see what I am getting at. I do like the commentators though. They are a very insightful lot and the pre-show is kind of nice. They will run the highlights from a previous meeting, which is crystal clear and without all the jumpiness and buffering of the live broadcast. The thing that gets me is how clear the warm-ups are, then the whistle goes off and I'm left with what amounts to 1980's scrambled porn.
In other news, WOLVES bettered the Scum. I like Wolves, well real wolves, not too fond of Wolverhampton but they beat the Scum so that is satisfactory in my book. Mentioning wolves, I remember seeing this thing on Iberian wolves a couple years ago. I had a Siberian Husky at the time and for some reason, it was the only time that she was actually tricked into howling with the wolves on television. Funny thing that was.
Mentioning Iberia, it was one of the few airlines, up until recently that you were still allowed to smoke on. Now I am no smoker but I did find it interesting that it was one of the last holdouts, figuring since it was a Spanish airline and the Spaniards have a considerably different opinion on the issue of smoking in confined spaces.
MENTIONING the Spanish, brings me to this whole thing of not liking Franco or fascist too much in general. Actually, I have a down-right dislike of their sort and so do the Catalunyans.
MENTIONING CATALAN, there resides a little place there called BARCELONA, which houses a great and wonderful team in La Liga that goes by the name FC BARCELONA. Now I do have a fondness of said team, as they have had many dealings with the Arsenal in the past.
So in summation, I do not really care if Cesc leaves to go back to Barca. It is his prerogative. He's a man who has to do a job, just like everyone else. He's currently doing his job well and by all his personal claims, likes his employer. He just wants them to be suc-CESC-ful. Isn't that what we all want, well with differing degrees of who want to be successful?
I think I've said enough today. I need to go unstuck myself and my German machine. So for those in the area, be safe and stay warm.. for those in warmer climes...
FUCK OFF... haha!
~LeChat
Yes, that's right. SNOW BOUND, like a 19th century family trying to get through the Sierra Nevadas with only a few days rations and sick children. Something has got to give and if I have to resort to cannibalism, so be it.
ArsenalTV, however, gave me hope of watching, in shambled fashion, the match. It's sort of like watching a bad security tape or web-cam.
OH there's an image...there's another image...OH WAIT a couple of seconds of movement...
You can see what I am getting at. I do like the commentators though. They are a very insightful lot and the pre-show is kind of nice. They will run the highlights from a previous meeting, which is crystal clear and without all the jumpiness and buffering of the live broadcast. The thing that gets me is how clear the warm-ups are, then the whistle goes off and I'm left with what amounts to 1980's scrambled porn.
In other news, WOLVES bettered the Scum. I like Wolves, well real wolves, not too fond of Wolverhampton but they beat the Scum so that is satisfactory in my book. Mentioning wolves, I remember seeing this thing on Iberian wolves a couple years ago. I had a Siberian Husky at the time and for some reason, it was the only time that she was actually tricked into howling with the wolves on television. Funny thing that was.
Mentioning Iberia, it was one of the few airlines, up until recently that you were still allowed to smoke on. Now I am no smoker but I did find it interesting that it was one of the last holdouts, figuring since it was a Spanish airline and the Spaniards have a considerably different opinion on the issue of smoking in confined spaces.
MENTIONING the Spanish, brings me to this whole thing of not liking Franco or fascist too much in general. Actually, I have a down-right dislike of their sort and so do the Catalunyans.
MENTIONING CATALAN, there resides a little place there called BARCELONA, which houses a great and wonderful team in La Liga that goes by the name FC BARCELONA. Now I do have a fondness of said team, as they have had many dealings with the Arsenal in the past.
So in summation, I do not really care if Cesc leaves to go back to Barca. It is his prerogative. He's a man who has to do a job, just like everyone else. He's currently doing his job well and by all his personal claims, likes his employer. He just wants them to be suc-CESC-ful. Isn't that what we all want, well with differing degrees of who want to be successful?
I think I've said enough today. I need to go unstuck myself and my German machine. So for those in the area, be safe and stay warm.. for those in warmer climes...
FUCK OFF... haha!
~LeChat
28 January 2010
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.
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.
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
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
19 November 2009
Allez Les Bleus! - Midweek WC2010 qualifier
Well, where to begin? Where to begin?
As many of you already know, there was a sleight of hand that allowed Les Bleus to go through. There are arguments about how the game should be replayed, about how Henry has tainted his soul and the such. I think what everyone is truly forgetting here, being a voice of reason, is that it is FOOTBALL!
We know this game. We love this game. We hate this game. We take this game out for dinner, grope it in the backseat and do that thing we are not suppose to do, then profess we didn't mean to do it this time and later that evening tell it about how sexy it's younger sister is in that mini-skirt she wore at Christmas last year.
See that is what the handball is, telling the love of your life how hot the younger sister is in the mini-skirt. Yes it may be true but no you really shouldn't say things like that. Sometimes you get lucky and end up in a threesome, however most of the time it is a right cross to the jaw and being very lonely.
Let me spell it out for the Scum...
You win some. You lose some. Either way, you're still a sneaky bastard.
In some quarters, you may be seen as clever, but that's only if you win. In others, well, I am sure there are some who can come up with better words than I can at the moment. For France, Henry was clever. For Ireland, he's a cheating sneaky bastard.
I could use this on other players, in other situations but what's the point? There is none. WHY? Because it's fucking football, a fucking beautiful game played by artist, judged by those who have a passion for the art.
Wait, I lie.
I will make another reference, one that the Sheriff might appreciate. A young big eared Scouse bastard who looks like Shrek will be our villain or hero, however you want to put it. On the other end, there is this beautiful team in Red and White who have gone unbeaten for several games, hell they may have even broken a few long standing records.
Now our hero/villain decides to take a run into the box. The big eared man is not known for taking advantage of the rules, being English and all that. Now during his run the Shrek-like lummox decides to go against his usual nature (chuckle) and takes a spill. The man in black points to the spot and the beautiful team in Red and White has given up a penalty. This penalty basically ends the longest unbeaten streak by the team in Red and White.
HOWEVER, no one will put our hero in stocks for this, and the fucking scum does it again a couple seasons later and again to another team and again and again. He is lauded by his followers as a hero and by supporters of the beautiful team in Red and White as a sneaky fucking bastard.
Fuck Rooney!
So, I do not blame the Irish for saying, "Fuck Henry!", as I know they will. I can only shrug at that, because it could have easily gone the other way and I'd be saying, "Fuck Keane!", actually I say that all the time cause he is a sneaky little bastard who couldn't cut it at Liverpool.
The reality is, I actually missed the whole thing.
I do want to take a moment and thank all my comrades for sending me updates while I was trying to save people from their legal messes. Good looking out!
I headed down to the pub right after work. I found it to be one of the longest drives that I have ever endured. I parked and metered my car, of course my card wasn't working in the stupid pass machine, so I grabbed some assorted coins and dropped them in, not paying too much attention to how much time I really had. I ran down the street, into the pub and bounded up the steps, knowing the scoreline was 1-1(2-1 agg). I got a ticket, later in the evening.
Some of the Irish supporters that were familiar with me either gave me a solemn nod or a glare followed by something along the lines of cheating bastards. ChelskiGirl and Irish both gave me shit for about 10 seconds and all I could do was shrug and say "I didn't see a thing."
I braved the mass of angry green and found myself in the French Quarter. A very different mood all together. I kept my head low, but had a big grin on my face as I watched the clock keep on ticking. I was really hoping Les Bleus would put in another, just so the one goal would be a mere footnote but to no avail.
Peep. Peep. Peep. It's all over in Paris.
The rest of the evening was spent imbiding Carlsbergs with Vinny, MiniMourhino and the eventual arrival of Sheffield. We kept it going for some time and finally I was able to see the play. Yes about 2 hours after the game was over.
I can say this. Yes, it was a handball.
~LeChat
As many of you already know, there was a sleight of hand that allowed Les Bleus to go through. There are arguments about how the game should be replayed, about how Henry has tainted his soul and the such. I think what everyone is truly forgetting here, being a voice of reason, is that it is FOOTBALL!
We know this game. We love this game. We hate this game. We take this game out for dinner, grope it in the backseat and do that thing we are not suppose to do, then profess we didn't mean to do it this time and later that evening tell it about how sexy it's younger sister is in that mini-skirt she wore at Christmas last year.
See that is what the handball is, telling the love of your life how hot the younger sister is in the mini-skirt. Yes it may be true but no you really shouldn't say things like that. Sometimes you get lucky and end up in a threesome, however most of the time it is a right cross to the jaw and being very lonely.
Let me spell it out for the Scum...
You win some. You lose some. Either way, you're still a sneaky bastard.
In some quarters, you may be seen as clever, but that's only if you win. In others, well, I am sure there are some who can come up with better words than I can at the moment. For France, Henry was clever. For Ireland, he's a cheating sneaky bastard.
I could use this on other players, in other situations but what's the point? There is none. WHY? Because it's fucking football, a fucking beautiful game played by artist, judged by those who have a passion for the art.
Wait, I lie.
I will make another reference, one that the Sheriff might appreciate. A young big eared Scouse bastard who looks like Shrek will be our villain or hero, however you want to put it. On the other end, there is this beautiful team in Red and White who have gone unbeaten for several games, hell they may have even broken a few long standing records.
Now our hero/villain decides to take a run into the box. The big eared man is not known for taking advantage of the rules, being English and all that. Now during his run the Shrek-like lummox decides to go against his usual nature (chuckle) and takes a spill. The man in black points to the spot and the beautiful team in Red and White has given up a penalty. This penalty basically ends the longest unbeaten streak by the team in Red and White.
HOWEVER, no one will put our hero in stocks for this, and the fucking scum does it again a couple seasons later and again to another team and again and again. He is lauded by his followers as a hero and by supporters of the beautiful team in Red and White as a sneaky fucking bastard.
Fuck Rooney!
So, I do not blame the Irish for saying, "Fuck Henry!", as I know they will. I can only shrug at that, because it could have easily gone the other way and I'd be saying, "Fuck Keane!", actually I say that all the time cause he is a sneaky little bastard who couldn't cut it at Liverpool.
The reality is, I actually missed the whole thing.
I do want to take a moment and thank all my comrades for sending me updates while I was trying to save people from their legal messes. Good looking out!
I headed down to the pub right after work. I found it to be one of the longest drives that I have ever endured. I parked and metered my car, of course my card wasn't working in the stupid pass machine, so I grabbed some assorted coins and dropped them in, not paying too much attention to how much time I really had. I ran down the street, into the pub and bounded up the steps, knowing the scoreline was 1-1(2-1 agg). I got a ticket, later in the evening.
Some of the Irish supporters that were familiar with me either gave me a solemn nod or a glare followed by something along the lines of cheating bastards. ChelskiGirl and Irish both gave me shit for about 10 seconds and all I could do was shrug and say "I didn't see a thing."
I braved the mass of angry green and found myself in the French Quarter. A very different mood all together. I kept my head low, but had a big grin on my face as I watched the clock keep on ticking. I was really hoping Les Bleus would put in another, just so the one goal would be a mere footnote but to no avail.
Peep. Peep. Peep. It's all over in Paris.
The rest of the evening was spent imbiding Carlsbergs with Vinny, MiniMourhino and the eventual arrival of Sheffield. We kept it going for some time and finally I was able to see the play. Yes about 2 hours after the game was over.
I can say this. Yes, it was a handball.
~LeChat
16 November 2009
Internationals/WC 2010 Qualifiers at Dublin
One thing about World Cup, which I still can't figure out. I tend to spend a lot of money. Well beyond my usual amount. I am trying to wrap my head around how it happens but I blame the atmosphere.
SATURDAY
Ireland - Les Bleus: Dublin.
The morning started off with the usual foray onto the good old social network site. Posting some videos, commenting and rallying the troops. I think I spent about a good hour or two playing around on YouTube.
I found myself bored so traveled towards the pub. I figured I had roused and instigated enough on the good old social network site. I had forgotten the US game was on early but it was only a friendly. Upon entering the pub, it was a strange site. There was no one that I even knew by face on the first floor. That is how it is with the US crowd, various people at various times, nothing consistent but a whole lot of them.
To be honest, the morning did start out strange. Irish was in a bad mood unlike his normal bad mood. I figure it had to do with the amount of non-regulars in the pub or some other things going on. We greeted each other with caution.
2-1 and accepting nods.
2-1 is the score of respect. It basically means your team is good but mine is just better. And with the way the France squad was selected, I was a tad bit nervous of who would be the 2 and who would be the 1.
As I settled in and watched the Russian game, I was joined by a strange older man who had a wobbly walk. He asked to sit at the round table where I was since there was nothing at the bar. My first inclination was to be annoyed but after decided that it was a free seat and it had something to do with a greater good.
My mind, however was more focused on the impending game. The old man asked a bit about the Russian game, so I gave him a little knowledge on the game. Doing my duty for the footballing world. The old man left after a while to visit some more pubs, I presume.
ChelskiGirl popped in and gave a little hello. She found a seat at the bar. SlainteLOSC had also come in and told me about claiming some seats near the big television towards the back of the second floor. I guess it would be appropriate to call it the French Quarter.
I found my way upstairs after talking with ChelskiGirl for a few moments. It was early, hours before the game was suppose to start. A few supporters on both sides started showing up. SlainteLOSC and I were joined by a nice couple. Between our small group, we concurred that there would be about a dozen France supporters and a ton of Irish.
ChelskiGirl dropped off some fries that she didn't want but decided to head home to watch the game on her computer. Serbia was already in, so she really didn't want to pay to see the qualifier. ACMilan arrived about the time she left.
ACMilan sat in the French Quarter, chatted and hypothesized about the game and selections with us for a bit. He headed down about the time the second floor started to fill up. The French supporters quickly filled the Quarter. The Irish surrounded us but we were content in our own little bilingual section.
LilBlondieGooner showed up with her boyfriend, NightCaller. Yes, that's right, finally a nick for him, which will be discussed in a minute. It was his birthday, so I will give him a little leeway.
The game was good. It was well worth the Setanta fee and the atmosphere was amazing. I will say it again and again, there is nothing like watching Internationals in a pub. Even if your team comes out on the bad end, there's still that feeling of good will and a unity amongst supporters.
It is sad that sometimes that good will does not always extend out on to the pitch.
A fair result, since the Irish were playing an Italian game. I was walking out and one of the random Arsenal supporters thought I was a Chelski boy. I was nice about it but have to admit I was very much offended. I even exposed my Arsenal shirt to her, just to hammer home the point. We talked for a while and she showed me a picture of her son that the father wouldn't let her name Thierry Henry. She then said she was going to name her daughter that but he wouldn't allow it either. Hater.
I joined ACMilan, Vinny and MiniMourhino downstairs. MiniMourhino had been upstairs enjoying the match but I did not get much chance to talk to him. We all had a few drinks and joked around for a bit. ACMilan and I headed towards Meli for a quick bite to eat and then back to the pub.
After hanging around for some more time and watching Hockey with the ManagerInBlack, I decided it was time to head out. I started down the road back to the car and ended up following Vinny into a surprise party. I ended up back at the pub shortly after and sat around talking to MiniMourhino and T-Bone for a bit.
That is when the Zyedco music began. There was once a time I could enjoy it a little bit but I have come to despise it. I don't know why, it just grates on me like bad beer and annoying American Football supporters in obnoxious Canton bars.
It was finally time to leave. I headed towards home and got a call from ACMilan. He was at his usual antics of yelling at people while being on the phone. I knew it was trouble when he said "Hey this girl is wearing an Inter jersey."
I have to admit that it was hilarious, to say the least.
Saturday Night
I made it home and was out by 930. It was a long day and I was exhausted. Around 230AM I woke up to my cell ringing. I looked down and it was LilBlondieGooner's number so I thought something bad had happened to her boyfriend. He was a bit toasted when I had last seen him and I am sure he was worst for the wear.
I answer and it was the NightCaller himself. Apparently he was trying to get in touch with the ScouseDrummer from my band. Somehow the conversation, and I mean conversation ended up having to do something with the Ireland France game. Something about a goal that wasn't a goal and a little bit of "I don't mind because we support the same club."
I gave him the number and called the ScouseDrummer. He was at some party but I figure everything got settled. Well at least I hope it all is.
Before I was able to get back to sleep, I took a look at my phone and there was a message from A Certain Scouser. (I know I am surrounded by them, like rats.)
As a matter of fact, I've been getting random texts asking if she was mentioned this week. Seeing that the Scouser couldn't muscle it down to the pub, I guess I can give full harassment. I mean showing up just like her squad does for big games.
HAHA!
Back to normal football next weekend. Here is hoping mid-week brings World Cup spot to Les Bleus.
ALLEZ! ALLEZ!
~LeChat
SATURDAY
Ireland - Les Bleus: Dublin.
The morning started off with the usual foray onto the good old social network site. Posting some videos, commenting and rallying the troops. I think I spent about a good hour or two playing around on YouTube.
I found myself bored so traveled towards the pub. I figured I had roused and instigated enough on the good old social network site. I had forgotten the US game was on early but it was only a friendly. Upon entering the pub, it was a strange site. There was no one that I even knew by face on the first floor. That is how it is with the US crowd, various people at various times, nothing consistent but a whole lot of them.
To be honest, the morning did start out strange. Irish was in a bad mood unlike his normal bad mood. I figure it had to do with the amount of non-regulars in the pub or some other things going on. We greeted each other with caution.
2-1 and accepting nods.
2-1 is the score of respect. It basically means your team is good but mine is just better. And with the way the France squad was selected, I was a tad bit nervous of who would be the 2 and who would be the 1.
As I settled in and watched the Russian game, I was joined by a strange older man who had a wobbly walk. He asked to sit at the round table where I was since there was nothing at the bar. My first inclination was to be annoyed but after decided that it was a free seat and it had something to do with a greater good.
My mind, however was more focused on the impending game. The old man asked a bit about the Russian game, so I gave him a little knowledge on the game. Doing my duty for the footballing world. The old man left after a while to visit some more pubs, I presume.
ChelskiGirl popped in and gave a little hello. She found a seat at the bar. SlainteLOSC had also come in and told me about claiming some seats near the big television towards the back of the second floor. I guess it would be appropriate to call it the French Quarter.
I found my way upstairs after talking with ChelskiGirl for a few moments. It was early, hours before the game was suppose to start. A few supporters on both sides started showing up. SlainteLOSC and I were joined by a nice couple. Between our small group, we concurred that there would be about a dozen France supporters and a ton of Irish.
ChelskiGirl dropped off some fries that she didn't want but decided to head home to watch the game on her computer. Serbia was already in, so she really didn't want to pay to see the qualifier. ACMilan arrived about the time she left.
ACMilan sat in the French Quarter, chatted and hypothesized about the game and selections with us for a bit. He headed down about the time the second floor started to fill up. The French supporters quickly filled the Quarter. The Irish surrounded us but we were content in our own little bilingual section.
LilBlondieGooner showed up with her boyfriend, NightCaller. Yes, that's right, finally a nick for him, which will be discussed in a minute. It was his birthday, so I will give him a little leeway.
The game was good. It was well worth the Setanta fee and the atmosphere was amazing. I will say it again and again, there is nothing like watching Internationals in a pub. Even if your team comes out on the bad end, there's still that feeling of good will and a unity amongst supporters.
It is sad that sometimes that good will does not always extend out on to the pitch.
A fair result, since the Irish were playing an Italian game. I was walking out and one of the random Arsenal supporters thought I was a Chelski boy. I was nice about it but have to admit I was very much offended. I even exposed my Arsenal shirt to her, just to hammer home the point. We talked for a while and she showed me a picture of her son that the father wouldn't let her name Thierry Henry. She then said she was going to name her daughter that but he wouldn't allow it either. Hater.
I joined ACMilan, Vinny and MiniMourhino downstairs. MiniMourhino had been upstairs enjoying the match but I did not get much chance to talk to him. We all had a few drinks and joked around for a bit. ACMilan and I headed towards Meli for a quick bite to eat and then back to the pub.
After hanging around for some more time and watching Hockey with the ManagerInBlack, I decided it was time to head out. I started down the road back to the car and ended up following Vinny into a surprise party. I ended up back at the pub shortly after and sat around talking to MiniMourhino and T-Bone for a bit.
That is when the Zyedco music began. There was once a time I could enjoy it a little bit but I have come to despise it. I don't know why, it just grates on me like bad beer and annoying American Football supporters in obnoxious Canton bars.
It was finally time to leave. I headed towards home and got a call from ACMilan. He was at his usual antics of yelling at people while being on the phone. I knew it was trouble when he said "Hey this girl is wearing an Inter jersey."
I have to admit that it was hilarious, to say the least.
Saturday Night
I made it home and was out by 930. It was a long day and I was exhausted. Around 230AM I woke up to my cell ringing. I looked down and it was LilBlondieGooner's number so I thought something bad had happened to her boyfriend. He was a bit toasted when I had last seen him and I am sure he was worst for the wear.
I answer and it was the NightCaller himself. Apparently he was trying to get in touch with the ScouseDrummer from my band. Somehow the conversation, and I mean conversation ended up having to do something with the Ireland France game. Something about a goal that wasn't a goal and a little bit of "I don't mind because we support the same club."
I gave him the number and called the ScouseDrummer. He was at some party but I figure everything got settled. Well at least I hope it all is.
Before I was able to get back to sleep, I took a look at my phone and there was a message from A Certain Scouser. (I know I am surrounded by them, like rats.)
Drunk!Yay!
As a matter of fact, I've been getting random texts asking if she was mentioned this week. Seeing that the Scouser couldn't muscle it down to the pub, I guess I can give full harassment. I mean showing up just like her squad does for big games.
HAHA!
Back to normal football next weekend. Here is hoping mid-week brings World Cup spot to Les Bleus.
ALLEZ! ALLEZ!
~LeChat
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