Another pleasant weekend goes by, and the Arsenal take three points. I would guess that I should be taking away some satisfaction but the reality of it all is that it feels quite hollow. Three points is three points, no matter what, right? I don't give in easily with that philosophy but I do understand it.
Saturday at the pub was quite fun. The Scousers and Mancscum seemed to make it a game. Which at the end of the day, is what you really want to see. The mega blow out things are a bit... lacking... For lack of a better word.
The marathon kept a couple people pinned in to our little bubble which wasn't a bad thing. It's nice when folks stick around a bit. That hasn't been happening much at all lately. Myself, Camo, and HalfArseDean made a day of it though, even caught up with ACMilan, who was his usual self.
Sunday... well outside of the fact that I thought the game was at 10, was pretty nice. All the regular cast of characters, who jeered me for showing up in the middle of the second half, so sort of a homecoming, in an odd sort of way.
Afterwards, I found myself, Ginger, and SlainteLOSC surrounded by Geordies and Scum. Some new scum, I'd never spied before. They seemed a nice enough lot but not ones who have been bled upon the altar before.
One, who I know was kidding, asked if I had Adebayor's name on my kit. Of course I sneered in my sneery way and said, “I don't put anyone's name on my back, least of all a mercenary like half your lot.”
He laughed a bit nervously. Maybe between that and me saying earlier that he was lucky I couldn't find a knife fast enough to stab him when he had sat down next to me. Albeit they did put the one lads girlfriend between me and them. I don't think it was on purpose but it did happen.
Whilst I was waiting for my check, this guy comes up to me, introduces himself and starts asking about the game. I mention that I only made it down for the second half. Then he asks where I watch the Arsenal games. My reply of course was “Here, This is my home-bar.”
The next words that come out of his mouth were something something bistro. I took a deep breath and shook my head, “I don't go to that place.”
This led into a long conversation. He explained that he actually helps out preparing the place for the games and what not. He also mentioned how a certain person has made himself quite a few enemies. I explained to him the reasons why I don't patron that place and how I felt about, in gentle terms.
Mind you, the guy was simply a nice guy but he kept trying to convince me to go over to the bistro for a game. I tried being a nice and diplomatic as I could about it before finally tiring of the conversation, but it kept going for some odd reason.
Now I know exactly how it feels to be tapped up when your happy playing for your own club or in this case watching the football at your home-bar.
Ginger had been waiting patiently, while me and the bistroguy chatted, so I conveniently slipped in that we both needed to go and nodded towards her. He let me escape, but seriously it made me wonder if he had come over on a recruitment mission and I just happened to be the only one left.
Who knows? All I can say, as I have said before, I will never be setting a foot in that bloody place.
~LeChat
Showing posts with label supporters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label supporters. Show all posts
17 October 2011
05 September 2011
Udinese CL and United Away
My mind says I should have written this about a week ago. My heart says I was right to wait a bit before putting something down. I'm not going to dwell on the victory or the loss. What's the point in doing that now?
So here we are, the close of the transfer window that had quite a few last minute decisions made. I can't say either way but sometimes in life you got to make decisions. Sometimes you have to say am I going to keep letting this happen or do I just make a firm decision. I assume the later happened for now we see Benayoun and Arteta pulling on the red and white.
I can neither be shocked nor surprised. In reality, I care about as much as... wow, can't even come up with a proper analogy. By the way, I'm about to drop kick blogger in a minute; keeps refreshing in the middle of sentences.
Two weeks ago, whilst watching the utter demise of the sp*rs followed by the superior drubbing of the Arsenal. It was quite interesting to have this odd fellow go on a tirade about spending for players and having a plan and other such nosh. When in fact the only way to get his point across was to get exponentially louder when anyone offered any differing opinion. No sense in trying to have a practical conversation about football at that point.
It is as if the blinders had been put in place and there was nothing you could say or suggest that would make a difference. I don't want to compare that with a current political rhetoric that is occurring right now and has been for the last 10 years or so. I really don't understand it nor shall I try.
Full circle and I still lack an analogy for not caring and wanting to drop kick something for the sake of just drop kicking something. The dull thud of foot to body contact or better yet the hollow thunk of hitting someone directly in the chest cavity.
Anyways, the last couple of weeks; a sound thrashing at the hands of MancScum, an earthquake, a hurricane (that wasn't too bad), a few decent trades, and a grand prix that people decided to complain about. I like to agree with one observant fellow who stated, "you knew about it for over a year!"
Thank you and good night.
~LeChat
So here we are, the close of the transfer window that had quite a few last minute decisions made. I can't say either way but sometimes in life you got to make decisions. Sometimes you have to say am I going to keep letting this happen or do I just make a firm decision. I assume the later happened for now we see Benayoun and Arteta pulling on the red and white.
I can neither be shocked nor surprised. In reality, I care about as much as... wow, can't even come up with a proper analogy. By the way, I'm about to drop kick blogger in a minute; keeps refreshing in the middle of sentences.
Two weeks ago, whilst watching the utter demise of the sp*rs followed by the superior drubbing of the Arsenal. It was quite interesting to have this odd fellow go on a tirade about spending for players and having a plan and other such nosh. When in fact the only way to get his point across was to get exponentially louder when anyone offered any differing opinion. No sense in trying to have a practical conversation about football at that point.
It is as if the blinders had been put in place and there was nothing you could say or suggest that would make a difference. I don't want to compare that with a current political rhetoric that is occurring right now and has been for the last 10 years or so. I really don't understand it nor shall I try.
Full circle and I still lack an analogy for not caring and wanting to drop kick something for the sake of just drop kicking something. The dull thud of foot to body contact or better yet the hollow thunk of hitting someone directly in the chest cavity.
Anyways, the last couple of weeks; a sound thrashing at the hands of MancScum, an earthquake, a hurricane (that wasn't too bad), a few decent trades, and a grand prix that people decided to complain about. I like to agree with one observant fellow who stated, "you knew about it for over a year!"
Thank you and good night.
~LeChat
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
21 February 2011
Barcelona at Home (CL) and Leyton Orient Away (FA)
Well a bunch more of the expected.
Earlier in the week, someone had asked me why I hadn't done a write up after the Barca game. Simple reason, I'm only doing the one a week, on the traditional football Monday. I certainly could have but why change?
In all honesty, while Barca are well on form for the last couple of seasons; they are not the be all and end all of the world of football. At the end of the day, they play a game that is determined within 90 minutes, with only one certainty.
The Ball is round.
In the next decade, or maybe in the next couple of years, there will be a new squad on the block that is just clicking and everything is falling down in all the right places.
For every rise, there must be a fall.
I read an article, somewhere that I can't remember, talking about the Dutch total football system and how Ajax employed it for several years cementing their name in the annals of club football history.
So, now while Ajax brings a weepy tear of good time memories to their supporters/fans/wannabes, they're just memories of a once great team. This will too be the fate of Barca and all great teams. Much like the Roman Empire, some nice sculptures and a legacy but little more than a bunch of white marble lying in the sun.
In short, there is no reason to be celebrating until the job is done. And by done, I mean there is still a second half of a series to be played in Camp Nou. The odds stand against the Arsenal but we will see.
Now for the Leyton Orient, another I couldn't really be bothered with. I knew the outcome before I laid my head on the pillow the night before. I'm not a pessimist but a shocking realist, true unto myself.
A game that's supposed to be won, isn't. Simple and true. I have nothing else to say about it but it gives another replay and a bunch of tired millionaires. As a good friend in high school told me once about a girl who would yell at her lovers, "If you're not going to do it right, then why bother?" Truer words have never been spoken. Mind you the girl mentioned above was a bit of a loose one in all honesty.
As many of you may know, this weekend was my birthday as well. If you couldn't make out, than you missed a good time or so I've been told.
Saturday evening I met up with Sheffield and surprised guest appearances by ArsenalBob, The Bakerman and SlainteLOSC. Let's say it was supposed to be a bit of a quiet drink or two before heading up to ChelskiGirl's surprise party.
Little did I know, ArsenalBob had other plans. I think in total it was about 40 odd shots bought and shared amongst a little group that varied in size throughout the early evening hours.
Sheffield, Vinnie, Gingerette and myself decided it was time to go, so we headed up towards the surprise party. Rumour has it that ArsenalBob colourized someone's car and left the Bakerman with a rather large bill.
The surprise for ChelskiGirl went off well. She was late, as usual, but then again it was a surprise so you can never expect those things to go as planned.
Sunday night there was the big party. There are several amongst the pub regulars who share birthdays within the same week, myself included. The birthday extravaganza keeps getting bigger and bigger.
This year, we made sure to grab the society room. Someone asked how many did I expect, but as usual, I had no idea. It's hard to tell 30 odd may respond but you may end up with a lot more or a lot less. One of those things, human nature.
We had some good numbers. I was feeling a bit under the weather, so was not my usual self. To be honest, I was feeling well out of sorts. It appears the flu monster has taken another victim.
I also received some rather sad news on the weekend as well. The man, who I called Santa Claus, a good friend of mine, will be sipping his pints with St. Peter and Gabriel. He lived life to his fullest and was one of the more inspirational people I have ever known.
May the gods bless him and may his soul have a wonderful journey.
~LeChat
Earlier in the week, someone had asked me why I hadn't done a write up after the Barca game. Simple reason, I'm only doing the one a week, on the traditional football Monday. I certainly could have but why change?
In all honesty, while Barca are well on form for the last couple of seasons; they are not the be all and end all of the world of football. At the end of the day, they play a game that is determined within 90 minutes, with only one certainty.
The Ball is round.
In the next decade, or maybe in the next couple of years, there will be a new squad on the block that is just clicking and everything is falling down in all the right places.
For every rise, there must be a fall.
I read an article, somewhere that I can't remember, talking about the Dutch total football system and how Ajax employed it for several years cementing their name in the annals of club football history.
So, now while Ajax brings a weepy tear of good time memories to their supporters/fans/wannabes, they're just memories of a once great team. This will too be the fate of Barca and all great teams. Much like the Roman Empire, some nice sculptures and a legacy but little more than a bunch of white marble lying in the sun.
In short, there is no reason to be celebrating until the job is done. And by done, I mean there is still a second half of a series to be played in Camp Nou. The odds stand against the Arsenal but we will see.
Now for the Leyton Orient, another I couldn't really be bothered with. I knew the outcome before I laid my head on the pillow the night before. I'm not a pessimist but a shocking realist, true unto myself.
A game that's supposed to be won, isn't. Simple and true. I have nothing else to say about it but it gives another replay and a bunch of tired millionaires. As a good friend in high school told me once about a girl who would yell at her lovers, "If you're not going to do it right, then why bother?" Truer words have never been spoken. Mind you the girl mentioned above was a bit of a loose one in all honesty.
As many of you may know, this weekend was my birthday as well. If you couldn't make out, than you missed a good time or so I've been told.
Saturday evening I met up with Sheffield and surprised guest appearances by ArsenalBob, The Bakerman and SlainteLOSC. Let's say it was supposed to be a bit of a quiet drink or two before heading up to ChelskiGirl's surprise party.
Little did I know, ArsenalBob had other plans. I think in total it was about 40 odd shots bought and shared amongst a little group that varied in size throughout the early evening hours.
Sheffield, Vinnie, Gingerette and myself decided it was time to go, so we headed up towards the surprise party. Rumour has it that ArsenalBob colourized someone's car and left the Bakerman with a rather large bill.
The surprise for ChelskiGirl went off well. She was late, as usual, but then again it was a surprise so you can never expect those things to go as planned.
Sunday night there was the big party. There are several amongst the pub regulars who share birthdays within the same week, myself included. The birthday extravaganza keeps getting bigger and bigger.
This year, we made sure to grab the society room. Someone asked how many did I expect, but as usual, I had no idea. It's hard to tell 30 odd may respond but you may end up with a lot more or a lot less. One of those things, human nature.
We had some good numbers. I was feeling a bit under the weather, so was not my usual self. To be honest, I was feeling well out of sorts. It appears the flu monster has taken another victim.
I also received some rather sad news on the weekend as well. The man, who I called Santa Claus, a good friend of mine, will be sipping his pints with St. Peter and Gabriel. He lived life to his fullest and was one of the more inspirational people I have ever known.
May the gods bless him and may his soul have a wonderful journey.
~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
17 January 2011
Ipswich Away (Carling) and West Ham Away
Another week goes by and two more games. I can't really say much about the mid-week, so I won't. Ipswich took the advantage and ran with it, while The Arsenal did what they do best, bottle it against a much less talented opponent.
This weekend, well was a slightly different story. I made my way down to the pub with Gingerette in tow. She hadn't been down for a game yet, so figured it would be as good a time as any to introduce her to a few of the faces.
After the usual welcome from Irish, we had a few words with the Chelski boys. Apparently, due to whatever scheduling reasons, the game was not being shown. Is it me or does it feel like they are getting done in just as their performance is starting to slip.
Part of me would like to say, good riddance to blue scum, but at the pub, I really do like their supporters. I can't speak for the ones that I don't know but as supporters go, top notch. Anyways, after a bit of chatting with those lot, and making my way through the lighter blue ManShitty scum, I found a nice table at the back to eat my breakfast in peace.
It was a bit of the usual back and forth. The Chelski lot had disappeared to where ever they had come from. The ManShitty crew just seemed to be getting bigger and bigger. That's when I realised it was the National College Coaches Convention or some other crap going on in the city.
Who would have thunk that a bunch of scum would be in the city under the auspice of being coaches? Well I guess you have to get them from somewhere. I mean life on the dole can be hard, or so I hear.
After the ManShitty game, we hung around for some proper football. ChelskiGirl wandered in with her normal state of bliss from just getting back from London and about to leave again. She's got to be adding pages to her passport cause that book is getting stamped more than bonehead at an anti-fa rally.
By the way, Bakerman needs to be thanked for bringing in some fine quality pastries. I really need to remind myself to give him much respect. I always think of it after the fact. This time I will not forget. He and Arsebob secured some seats at the bar for the Arsenal match. Which I can say, was a delight after some of the others that have been bandying themselves about as proper matches.
We had a good little crowd come in, one of the coaches asked if this was a usual amount of supporters. Which I replied, sometimes we get a few more but this is the core. And in fact, it was the core; Shorts even broke out the new Djourou song.
About half time, I tracked down the BigManager. I had to make the arrangements for the annual party, which lately has turned into the joint birthday of myself and ChelskiGirl. This year, however, we're going to include the Toffee. He let us know that him and I actually share the same day. On top of that, I think we are going to get a tasty cake made by the Bakerman. It should be a good time.
Tenative date, well the date that's been put in the book is for Sunday 20 February at 8PM in the Society Room/2nd Floor Pub. There is a holiday on the Monday, so no real excuses for you. Pencil it in now. Honestly, don't worry about presents, just showing up and celebrating with the three of us is a gift in itself. I should say four, because I think Usual Server might be jumping on this train too. Her birthday is somewhere in the mix as well. So a quadruple celebration it is.
Final note: Happy MLK, Jr. Day. Let's think about the racism that still tears through the professional leagues and terraces. We shouldn't think about it just on today but every day. I know this is some cliche tripe but it something that affects each and every one of us that pretends to have a righteous soul.
From 2006, probably been shown 101 times but until the problem is fixed. It will be shown again. Mind you, it's a slanted American view, where ESPN pretends the problem doesn't exist here. It may be subtle but it does exist.
~LeChat
This weekend, well was a slightly different story. I made my way down to the pub with Gingerette in tow. She hadn't been down for a game yet, so figured it would be as good a time as any to introduce her to a few of the faces.
After the usual welcome from Irish, we had a few words with the Chelski boys. Apparently, due to whatever scheduling reasons, the game was not being shown. Is it me or does it feel like they are getting done in just as their performance is starting to slip.
Part of me would like to say, good riddance to blue scum, but at the pub, I really do like their supporters. I can't speak for the ones that I don't know but as supporters go, top notch. Anyways, after a bit of chatting with those lot, and making my way through the lighter blue ManShitty scum, I found a nice table at the back to eat my breakfast in peace.
It was a bit of the usual back and forth. The Chelski lot had disappeared to where ever they had come from. The ManShitty crew just seemed to be getting bigger and bigger. That's when I realised it was the National College Coaches Convention or some other crap going on in the city.
Who would have thunk that a bunch of scum would be in the city under the auspice of being coaches? Well I guess you have to get them from somewhere. I mean life on the dole can be hard, or so I hear.
After the ManShitty game, we hung around for some proper football. ChelskiGirl wandered in with her normal state of bliss from just getting back from London and about to leave again. She's got to be adding pages to her passport cause that book is getting stamped more than bonehead at an anti-fa rally.
By the way, Bakerman needs to be thanked for bringing in some fine quality pastries. I really need to remind myself to give him much respect. I always think of it after the fact. This time I will not forget. He and Arsebob secured some seats at the bar for the Arsenal match. Which I can say, was a delight after some of the others that have been bandying themselves about as proper matches.
We had a good little crowd come in, one of the coaches asked if this was a usual amount of supporters. Which I replied, sometimes we get a few more but this is the core. And in fact, it was the core; Shorts even broke out the new Djourou song.
About half time, I tracked down the BigManager. I had to make the arrangements for the annual party, which lately has turned into the joint birthday of myself and ChelskiGirl. This year, however, we're going to include the Toffee. He let us know that him and I actually share the same day. On top of that, I think we are going to get a tasty cake made by the Bakerman. It should be a good time.
Tenative date, well the date that's been put in the book is for Sunday 20 February at 8PM in the Society Room/2nd Floor Pub. There is a holiday on the Monday, so no real excuses for you. Pencil it in now. Honestly, don't worry about presents, just showing up and celebrating with the three of us is a gift in itself. I should say four, because I think Usual Server might be jumping on this train too. Her birthday is somewhere in the mix as well. So a quadruple celebration it is.
Final note: Happy MLK, Jr. Day. Let's think about the racism that still tears through the professional leagues and terraces. We shouldn't think about it just on today but every day. I know this is some cliche tripe but it something that affects each and every one of us that pretends to have a righteous soul.
From 2006, probably been shown 101 times but until the problem is fixed. It will be shown again. Mind you, it's a slanted American view, where ESPN pretends the problem doesn't exist here. It may be subtle but it does exist.
~LeChat
30 December 2010
Chelsea at home, Wigan away
This has been a weird week all around, just to begin with, 2 matches within 3 days time. I know there are those who side with, well they get paid a shit ton of money to look like shit, but it's seriously a lot to ask especially in the premiership.
Boxing Day
Have to admit this was one of the worst Boxing day turn outs I've ever witnessed. It may have been for a lack of quality games on the screens or just no one cares about tradition.
The shitty faithful were streaming their gave across the internet and putting it on the big screen upstairs. I will give proper respect to them for doing that. Downstairs, if I had thrown Mount Everest at the pub I don't think I would have hit a Manc fan/supporter at all.
Now I understand people are out of town for the holidays and all but really, not even a fair-weather or at least one that I knew of. Thank the gods for the local hooligans meandering in and having a few together. For lack of quantity there were a good lot of us surrounding the back tables not paying much attention to the screens at all.
Monday
There we go. A much better turn of events. I have never seen that much red and white in the pub since before the splitters left. Some of the Chelski lads also showed up, nice turn out for them.
So as I've been informed by the man himself, I've never mentioned Shorts in my blog. Shorts, he's a good lad as they would say and yes I know it's a weak nickname for him but it's also early in the morning for me to be typing. I promised him a few lines as well. As I was saying, Shorts has been instrumental in the instigation and creation of new songs and chants for the pub. This, to me, makes him a real pub hero, have a beer Shorts and be kind to those who are shorter.
I swear I must have said something about him at one time or the other. Oh wells, after the game we all headed over to the dollar store for some post match bevvies. LilblondieGooner was trying to figure out if MiniMo was going to let her back into the apartment. I think we all offered a place to stay but we knew he would anyways.
Wednesday
Let us just say it was not as delicious as Monday. Things started off bad, got better and settled into what can only be disappointing but not the worst thing that could happen. It was just weird.
Arsenal on the big screen, Chelski in the back (cough cough where they belong). The Librarian mentioned it was interesting that there was an actual divide in the pub, like an imaginary line that neither side ventured cross. Or maybe I was watching a documentary on North Korea last night. No I'm sure she said something to that affect.
We all spent most of the matches giving each other some friendly abuse. At one point something was said between LilblondieGooner and LilblondieChelski. I still have no idea what was said but I think the west coast is softening LilblondieGooner.
I spent the rest of the night sulking in my own self misery. I even gave up a short trip to the dollar store, just didn't feel like being around people. Like I said, strange night all around; who would give up a trip to the dollar store?
~LeChat
Boxing Day
Have to admit this was one of the worst Boxing day turn outs I've ever witnessed. It may have been for a lack of quality games on the screens or just no one cares about tradition.
The shitty faithful were streaming their gave across the internet and putting it on the big screen upstairs. I will give proper respect to them for doing that. Downstairs, if I had thrown Mount Everest at the pub I don't think I would have hit a Manc fan/supporter at all.
Now I understand people are out of town for the holidays and all but really, not even a fair-weather or at least one that I knew of. Thank the gods for the local hooligans meandering in and having a few together. For lack of quantity there were a good lot of us surrounding the back tables not paying much attention to the screens at all.
Monday
There we go. A much better turn of events. I have never seen that much red and white in the pub since before the splitters left. Some of the Chelski lads also showed up, nice turn out for them.
So as I've been informed by the man himself, I've never mentioned Shorts in my blog. Shorts, he's a good lad as they would say and yes I know it's a weak nickname for him but it's also early in the morning for me to be typing. I promised him a few lines as well. As I was saying, Shorts has been instrumental in the instigation and creation of new songs and chants for the pub. This, to me, makes him a real pub hero, have a beer Shorts and be kind to those who are shorter.
I swear I must have said something about him at one time or the other. Oh wells, after the game we all headed over to the dollar store for some post match bevvies. LilblondieGooner was trying to figure out if MiniMo was going to let her back into the apartment. I think we all offered a place to stay but we knew he would anyways.
Wednesday
Let us just say it was not as delicious as Monday. Things started off bad, got better and settled into what can only be disappointing but not the worst thing that could happen. It was just weird.
Arsenal on the big screen, Chelski in the back (cough cough where they belong). The Librarian mentioned it was interesting that there was an actual divide in the pub, like an imaginary line that neither side ventured cross. Or maybe I was watching a documentary on North Korea last night. No I'm sure she said something to that affect.
We all spent most of the matches giving each other some friendly abuse. At one point something was said between LilblondieGooner and LilblondieChelski. I still have no idea what was said but I think the west coast is softening LilblondieGooner.
I spent the rest of the night sulking in my own self misery. I even gave up a short trip to the dollar store, just didn't feel like being around people. Like I said, strange night all around; who would give up a trip to the dollar store?
~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
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
27 September 2010
West Brom at Home
REALLY! Chelski drops points a few moments before kick off and what does the good ol'Arsenal go off and do. You know what they didn't do. Couldn't even manage a draw against a side that does the good old up and down.
My usual pub forays are becoming more or less the cause of a bad heart condition. I think this whole having hope for some silverware thing is really not good for my health. I know I sound like a pessimistic person but did you watch the game this weekend.
So what else is new? Nothing.
There was an interesting article about Anelka on CNN, no less, today. It goes on about how despite his nickname, "Le Sulk", that he really is a man of principle who let's his football do the talking for him.
They went on to compare him with the likes of Cantona and Keane. You know, I personally stood behind Nico's act of telling Domenech what he thought of him. I wish more people would have done that earlier and France, just maybe, would have done a tad bit better.
Principle, such a strange concept in today's world. For example, not to belabor a point, but it's a matter of Principle that I don't even fathom the thought about going to a certain bistro to watch my football.
I know I'm not god's gift to Arsenal supporters or any kind of supporters for that sake, but there is no way I'm going to acknowledge that place as any football pub. Hell, it's not even a pub... it's a bistro.
ManCity Himself was letting me know this weekend that we should go terrorize the place but honestly, I can't do it. It's like giving in, like saying I know that you exist and that you actually have an effect on my world. Whatever, I spent too many pixels even typing about that place.
Mentioning places to watch football, the pub recently celebrated like 7 years since being open. It's kind of interesting that I've been watching football there that long as well. Myself, GrumpyGooner and a few others of our old crew started coming down to Fells as we had grown tired of the constant annoyance known as Canton.
One of my fondest memories of the old days is sitting at bar, just me and GrumpyGooner, watching Arsenal - Chelski (before they had big money). MiniMourinho was at the other end, venting and turning seven shades of blue as The Arsenal strolled up and down the pitch.
Grumpy and I were of course having a good old laugh about the game. It's always good when you are winning. At one point, MiniMourinho slaps the bar, lets out an expletive or two, pays his tab and walks out. We knew what he was thinking and what he felt. We'd been there before as well.
I don't know why that image and day sticks out in my head so much. The emptiness of the pub or the fact that we had an unspoken conversation with another supporter, whom we didn't know from Sam or Adam.
All I know is that it, the pub, has become this place where football does reside in a city which is now beginning to have a few other options.
~LeChat
My usual pub forays are becoming more or less the cause of a bad heart condition. I think this whole having hope for some silverware thing is really not good for my health. I know I sound like a pessimistic person but did you watch the game this weekend.
So what else is new? Nothing.
There was an interesting article about Anelka on CNN, no less, today. It goes on about how despite his nickname, "Le Sulk", that he really is a man of principle who let's his football do the talking for him.
They went on to compare him with the likes of Cantona and Keane. You know, I personally stood behind Nico's act of telling Domenech what he thought of him. I wish more people would have done that earlier and France, just maybe, would have done a tad bit better.
Principle, such a strange concept in today's world. For example, not to belabor a point, but it's a matter of Principle that I don't even fathom the thought about going to a certain bistro to watch my football.
I know I'm not god's gift to Arsenal supporters or any kind of supporters for that sake, but there is no way I'm going to acknowledge that place as any football pub. Hell, it's not even a pub... it's a bistro.
ManCity Himself was letting me know this weekend that we should go terrorize the place but honestly, I can't do it. It's like giving in, like saying I know that you exist and that you actually have an effect on my world. Whatever, I spent too many pixels even typing about that place.
Mentioning places to watch football, the pub recently celebrated like 7 years since being open. It's kind of interesting that I've been watching football there that long as well. Myself, GrumpyGooner and a few others of our old crew started coming down to Fells as we had grown tired of the constant annoyance known as Canton.
One of my fondest memories of the old days is sitting at bar, just me and GrumpyGooner, watching Arsenal - Chelski (before they had big money). MiniMourinho was at the other end, venting and turning seven shades of blue as The Arsenal strolled up and down the pitch.
Grumpy and I were of course having a good old laugh about the game. It's always good when you are winning. At one point, MiniMourinho slaps the bar, lets out an expletive or two, pays his tab and walks out. We knew what he was thinking and what he felt. We'd been there before as well.
I don't know why that image and day sticks out in my head so much. The emptiness of the pub or the fact that we had an unspoken conversation with another supporter, whom we didn't know from Sam or Adam.
All I know is that it, the pub, has become this place where football does reside in a city which is now beginning to have a few other options.
~LeChat
13 September 2010
Bolton at Home
I've come to realise after my many many years of supporting a club; just how deeply my affiliation and, for lack of a better word, obsession can be.
Saturday morning, I was headed down to the pub, as usual. I had took a scant glance at the United game before leaving the homestead and not really caring about the scoreline at all. I took the not so usual path down through some of the county roads, as I needed to fuel my car up.
Now, if it isn't obvious to those that read this or know me, I am a pretty way left of center person. One thing I have no care for is the flagrant posting of your cookie cutter political beliefs on your bumper, no matter what your party affiliation.
I don't mean things like "Save the Whales" or "Protect my Guns" or anything with a direct, well intended statement of cause. I'm talking about the stupid "I'm a repub/dem/whatever nonsensical party you choose to make sure everyone else knows you are part of." Honestly, if that is how you fixate your little life, that's all on you.
Yes there is a point to all this, patience.
So I pull up to the stoplight and ahead of me is some yokel with GOP stickers plastered along the back of his not quite full grown SUV. I chuckled a bit cause it's an SUV instead of Fuckemup Pickuptruck. Now it didn't really raise my ire, as stupidity usually does but you know, it was just like, what are you really saying? Do you really believe in all this? Do you just tow the party line without thought or consequence?
Then I come to realise it is an election year, so I let it go. I will give him credit for having a sticker that said, "I'm a Reagan Republican" which was a bit different from the usual milieu of shite.
We pull up to the next light and he pulls into the lane beside another mini SUV. This one had a big old St. George on the back with England in bold letters scribed in the center. I smile, comparing the two vehicles, now I sit behind a fellow football supporter.
Not so fast, sir! 'Lo and behold, next to the St. George resided a Union Jack... and... unfortunately... it held a 10 letter word, which I can only say with the greatest disgust. He was not a football supporter. He was fucking MANC SCUM!
I sat there, gripping my steering wheel and gritting my teeth. I stared into his rear view, calling him all sorts of dirty words, hoping he would look up so I could introduce him to some sign language.
I started noticing other stickers on the back of his piece of crap SUV. MancShit this MancScum that. He had a baby on board sign that said something like Careful Little Piece of Shit Supporter on Board.
The light was starting to last too long. It finally changes and I follow him closely, hoping once he would look up. My eyes drilling into his rearview, thinking to myself, "Comeon you fuck, turn around, so I can call you a FUCK!"
I had to put this mong in his place. I looked back at the GOP SUV and shook my head. He was lucky he didn't have any MancScum shit on his vehicle. I would have probably been arrested if he did.
My attention returns fully to the MancScum SUV in front of me. I start praying he turns into the station up ahead. I was a bit low on gas, so I didn't want to risk following him all over the city, just to tell him to fuck off.
He keeps driving straight. I pull into the station, and start looking for a new victim. I had a lot of pure rage going on at this point. I ended up just angrily swiping my card and calling the gas pump a cunt, cause it started making weird noises as I was refueling.
It made me think as I drove onwards to the pub. I have always taken into account what club someone supports and use that to form the basis of opinion about that person.
Don't get me wrong, I do have a few very good friends who are MancScum supporters. I have even spoken to a couple, yah just one or two, decent, proper Scum supporters. Individually, I can say they are all good people. They know the game. They love their club. You can even have a few beers with them. They just picked the wrong ones to support.
It's a funny disease, football. If you try and get away from it, somehow it just keeps creeping back in. If you don't ever have that feeling, then you're not a proper football supporter.
Yes I am judging you.
You may watch the sport. Play the sport. You may even go take in a game or two every year, but if it doesn't affect so that others may see you as even slightly disturbed or refer to you as "the soccer guy" or some other stupid nickname. Then don't ever dare call yourself a supporter; a fan, yes, but not a supporter.
I'm going to go out on a limb and say this is probably why there is so much distaste for the American support. Yes, they did well in WC2010. The team played much better than expected. The pub was chocked full of punters, however where are those crowds now?
Someone on the street last week spotted me wearing my French kit. He made a comment about something and WC2010. I just nodded and smiled. I think he even asked something along the lines of why I was wearing it, since the World Cup was over.
I just smiled again and said, "I support France."
I didn't feel like explaining Euros to the guy. He was being nice and starting conversation but as a supporter, in general, you just grit your teeth and wish they just didn't say anything at all.
It would be like me discussing the difference between a west coast offence and nickel defence. I could tell you that one means you're attacking and the other means you're defending. I have very little idea on the intricacies of American Football and won't pretend like I do. That's just me though.
Life is funny, so is football. I am glad that I get to enjoy both.
~LeChat
Saturday morning, I was headed down to the pub, as usual. I had took a scant glance at the United game before leaving the homestead and not really caring about the scoreline at all. I took the not so usual path down through some of the county roads, as I needed to fuel my car up.
Now, if it isn't obvious to those that read this or know me, I am a pretty way left of center person. One thing I have no care for is the flagrant posting of your cookie cutter political beliefs on your bumper, no matter what your party affiliation.
I don't mean things like "Save the Whales" or "Protect my Guns" or anything with a direct, well intended statement of cause. I'm talking about the stupid "I'm a repub/dem/whatever nonsensical party you choose to make sure everyone else knows you are part of." Honestly, if that is how you fixate your little life, that's all on you.
Yes there is a point to all this, patience.
So I pull up to the stoplight and ahead of me is some yokel with GOP stickers plastered along the back of his not quite full grown SUV. I chuckled a bit cause it's an SUV instead of Fuckemup Pickuptruck. Now it didn't really raise my ire, as stupidity usually does but you know, it was just like, what are you really saying? Do you really believe in all this? Do you just tow the party line without thought or consequence?
Then I come to realise it is an election year, so I let it go. I will give him credit for having a sticker that said, "I'm a Reagan Republican" which was a bit different from the usual milieu of shite.
We pull up to the next light and he pulls into the lane beside another mini SUV. This one had a big old St. George on the back with England in bold letters scribed in the center. I smile, comparing the two vehicles, now I sit behind a fellow football supporter.
Not so fast, sir! 'Lo and behold, next to the St. George resided a Union Jack... and... unfortunately... it held a 10 letter word, which I can only say with the greatest disgust. He was not a football supporter. He was fucking MANC SCUM!
I sat there, gripping my steering wheel and gritting my teeth. I stared into his rear view, calling him all sorts of dirty words, hoping he would look up so I could introduce him to some sign language.
I started noticing other stickers on the back of his piece of crap SUV. MancShit this MancScum that. He had a baby on board sign that said something like Careful Little Piece of Shit Supporter on Board.
The light was starting to last too long. It finally changes and I follow him closely, hoping once he would look up. My eyes drilling into his rearview, thinking to myself, "Comeon you fuck, turn around, so I can call you a FUCK!"
I had to put this mong in his place. I looked back at the GOP SUV and shook my head. He was lucky he didn't have any MancScum shit on his vehicle. I would have probably been arrested if he did.
My attention returns fully to the MancScum SUV in front of me. I start praying he turns into the station up ahead. I was a bit low on gas, so I didn't want to risk following him all over the city, just to tell him to fuck off.
He keeps driving straight. I pull into the station, and start looking for a new victim. I had a lot of pure rage going on at this point. I ended up just angrily swiping my card and calling the gas pump a cunt, cause it started making weird noises as I was refueling.
It made me think as I drove onwards to the pub. I have always taken into account what club someone supports and use that to form the basis of opinion about that person.
Don't get me wrong, I do have a few very good friends who are MancScum supporters. I have even spoken to a couple, yah just one or two, decent, proper Scum supporters. Individually, I can say they are all good people. They know the game. They love their club. You can even have a few beers with them. They just picked the wrong ones to support.
It's a funny disease, football. If you try and get away from it, somehow it just keeps creeping back in. If you don't ever have that feeling, then you're not a proper football supporter.
Yes I am judging you.
You may watch the sport. Play the sport. You may even go take in a game or two every year, but if it doesn't affect so that others may see you as even slightly disturbed or refer to you as "the soccer guy" or some other stupid nickname. Then don't ever dare call yourself a supporter; a fan, yes, but not a supporter.
I'm going to go out on a limb and say this is probably why there is so much distaste for the American support. Yes, they did well in WC2010. The team played much better than expected. The pub was chocked full of punters, however where are those crowds now?
Someone on the street last week spotted me wearing my French kit. He made a comment about something and WC2010. I just nodded and smiled. I think he even asked something along the lines of why I was wearing it, since the World Cup was over.
I just smiled again and said, "I support France."
I didn't feel like explaining Euros to the guy. He was being nice and starting conversation but as a supporter, in general, you just grit your teeth and wish they just didn't say anything at all.
It would be like me discussing the difference between a west coast offence and nickel defence. I could tell you that one means you're attacking and the other means you're defending. I have very little idea on the intricacies of American Football and won't pretend like I do. That's just me though.
Life is funny, so is football. I am glad that I get to enjoy both.
~LeChat
30 August 2010
Blackburn Away
I really don't know what's going on here anymore. I am totally underwhelmed at the prospect of the new season. I mean, yes it's here already. Yes, I've watched a few games. Yes, I have even jotted a few words in this space about it. However, it is a very strange feeling to it.
My hope is to have my finger on it some time in the near future because I don't like this strange unfeeling that I have going on right now. It is as if my football soul has taken a vacation, or worst has died.
I try and pick the specific date, maybe when France imploded, a little piece of LeChat also went on strike. I would have at least gotten a 4 game international ban. I am sure of that.
My rugby supporting cousin told me one time after he came back from basic training, "I think you would have hit the drill sergeant or at least let him know how you felt more than once. I don't think you would have made it out of basic without being recycled a few times."
I may be paraphrasing, as he did say it over a decade ago now, but I guess that about sums it up, so to speak.
This weekend, being only Saturday for me, saw the usual amount of revelry. I'mOnTV-gooner and Slainte Chef had a slab of breakfast food prepared, and by slab I mean a large 2 foot by 2 foot wooden board of food; which was a nice treat. I didn't ask questions about it. Someone called my name, I walked over, gave my blessing over the food, then we all dug in.
After the Arsenal had done what they were paid to do, a bunch of us hung around for the Chelski match. Like I said, nothing special happened. I guess I should say LilnotsoblondieGooner's dad was there. He had come up to hang out with the crew for a bit.
Honestly, I wish there was something spectacular or interesting to convey but really there wasn't. It was a normal-ish weekend. We were graced by the presence of DCManc and all her radiant beauty. It's always a bit of nice surprise when she makes it up. She was trying to convince me I should get on Twitter but I don't think it's a good forum for myself. I may be a bit too wordy at times or vague at others.
There was a singing out for lilnotsoblondiegooner, as she will be leaving us for the west coast in few weeks. It really says something when various affiliated supporters can get together and wish each other well. There's a certain, and I hate to say it, family feel to the whole pub culture that we've lent ourselves to.
Which reminds me of the conversations I have been having with a few of you lately. I love the feedback. Seriously though, feel free to post in the comments, whatever is appropriate. I do check every so often and will respond. I know that some prefer to blow up my FB page (is that what the kids say now-a-days) but there are those who do read who may not have access to my FB, please think of them as well.
Actually my blogger stats tell me there are quite a few hits that I know aren't bots. On that note as well, feel free to share. I am the worst self promoter in the world. Hopefully with the international lull, I'll be able to hit my normal scathing and acerbic style and give you a bit more to think about.
~LeChat
My hope is to have my finger on it some time in the near future because I don't like this strange unfeeling that I have going on right now. It is as if my football soul has taken a vacation, or worst has died.
I try and pick the specific date, maybe when France imploded, a little piece of LeChat also went on strike. I would have at least gotten a 4 game international ban. I am sure of that.
My rugby supporting cousin told me one time after he came back from basic training, "I think you would have hit the drill sergeant or at least let him know how you felt more than once. I don't think you would have made it out of basic without being recycled a few times."
I may be paraphrasing, as he did say it over a decade ago now, but I guess that about sums it up, so to speak.
This weekend, being only Saturday for me, saw the usual amount of revelry. I'mOnTV-gooner and Slainte Chef had a slab of breakfast food prepared, and by slab I mean a large 2 foot by 2 foot wooden board of food; which was a nice treat. I didn't ask questions about it. Someone called my name, I walked over, gave my blessing over the food, then we all dug in.
After the Arsenal had done what they were paid to do, a bunch of us hung around for the Chelski match. Like I said, nothing special happened. I guess I should say LilnotsoblondieGooner's dad was there. He had come up to hang out with the crew for a bit.
Honestly, I wish there was something spectacular or interesting to convey but really there wasn't. It was a normal-ish weekend. We were graced by the presence of DCManc and all her radiant beauty. It's always a bit of nice surprise when she makes it up. She was trying to convince me I should get on Twitter but I don't think it's a good forum for myself. I may be a bit too wordy at times or vague at others.
There was a singing out for lilnotsoblondiegooner, as she will be leaving us for the west coast in few weeks. It really says something when various affiliated supporters can get together and wish each other well. There's a certain, and I hate to say it, family feel to the whole pub culture that we've lent ourselves to.
Which reminds me of the conversations I have been having with a few of you lately. I love the feedback. Seriously though, feel free to post in the comments, whatever is appropriate. I do check every so often and will respond. I know that some prefer to blow up my FB page (is that what the kids say now-a-days) but there are those who do read who may not have access to my FB, please think of them as well.
Actually my blogger stats tell me there are quite a few hits that I know aren't bots. On that note as well, feel free to share. I am the worst self promoter in the world. Hopefully with the international lull, I'll be able to hit my normal scathing and acerbic style and give you a bit more to think about.
~LeChat
02 August 2010
Emirates Cup o' Noodles
Ahhh the first brilliant weekend of the return of some preseason club football. I have to say, in general the weekend in the city proved to be a very interesting confluence of absurdity.
To begin with, there as the anime convention, which brought out a whole lot of people carrying very large swords and wigs with spiky hair. I think Chamakh was trying to do the same thing with his excessively moussed hairdo.
Then there was the ManShitty - Inter game, which welcomed the antics of some very odd acting football supporters. There is one thing I can say about some of the Mancs that did appear around the pub.
There were no surprises... none at all.
Friday Night
I took in the atmosphere surrounding the unveiling of the ManShitty plaque in the pub. The night started off slow enough but there were good times to be had. My plan was to get there early and hang out a bit.
SlainteLOSC greeted me at the door and we sat near the front waiting for some others to show. I think he was working but you never know with him.
We were plotting on finding Materrazzi and giving him a Baltimore Welcome.
SlainteLOSC made a few phone calls, however, the cheating Italian piece of shit was up in Philadelphia. I think they realized the French Resistance was out for blood or there were too many things named after Lafayette, either way they were not in town until right before the game.
TheCleanOne showed up in his normal cheery mode with Chelski hat fondly on display. Sheffield and WestBrom popped in a few moments later and the corner was now secured. A few Mancs had wandered in from the docks; I only assume that's where they come from.
A few more of the local crew dropped in and that's about the time some of the songs started going on. I think there were some ManShitty uppity folks in suits that assisted with the unveiling but the corner didn't really seem to pay it much mind. We were all busy catching up and prattling on about whatever it is we prattle about.
After the whole ceremony, there were some pictures taken and Blue Moon was sung about 20 times. By this point, Brendan Pelan had set up his guitar and amplifiers, as it was the night he usually plays music, and at that point T-Bone and the Librarian decided to take flight.
Brendan picked up on the Shitty fans singing Blue Moon and started playing along and they started singing a bit louder. I think another couple of songs were played and in one of the breaks You Fill Up My Senses came out of the locals. Brendan also picked up on that as well.
I think he said something to the point of, "Hey I like that song." It was about 5 minutes later, he started playing the original song (Annie by John Denver) and invited us to sing You Fill Up My Senses again. I think we did about 3 times in a row before he went back into singing Annie.
Now you will not get that song out of your head. You're very welcome.
Saturday
Last season the pub showed the Emirates cup. This season, the pub showed the Emirates cup. It's always nice to see some pre-season stuff, sort of puts the taste in your mouth.
When I arrived ArsenalSteve was already sitting there. He had just came back from New York. I didn't ask why, figured it was best that way. We talked a bit about the upcoming season and after a short bit a journalist with cameraman come into the pub. I thought I had seen them outside but didn't pay much mind.
I was in no mood to deal with journos at this time of the morning. They interviewed ThePantsManager and he sent them our way. I remember the journo shaking my hand and quickly declining camera time, shoving it upon ArsenalSteve. My excuse was he's much better looking than me in the morning and the reality of me actually being to shy to talk about football on camera.
I stood in the background with MySonWill pretending to have a conversation about the game on the screen. The whole time we were just making fun of the reporter and the fact that IrishDave kept flirting with her.
My understanding is there is some footage of me that made it onto the television. I still haven't seen it but wish I could find it, just to link it.
Saturday Night
The actual night of the ManShitty-Inter game. I had a show, which I do thank the gods for that. I am so glad I was unable to join in the shit show that was to be. My understanding is that later, after the game, some ManShitty scum had a few too many, jumped up and ripped down the MancScum flag from outside.
Seriously, I, myself have joked about it but find no good reason to do something like that, in a pub on Thames in Baltimore... seriously?
I know, club is important but sometimes you need to keep that and yourself in check. From what I've been told, his friends were a might bit embarrassed and put him in a cab on his way home.
Sunday
Emirates cup glory once again. I got to watch a bit of O'Lyon play. I still love that team. I remember I had a chance to get a kit from a silent auction a couple years ago and flubbed on it.
MySonWill expressed his frustration about the Shitty game from the night before. He said his biological dad, who I think is from Charlton, was very annoyed at the whole game and atmosphere. That seems to be the general consensus.
While I was hoping for something along the lines of the Chelski-Milan match, for the sake of football itself, it seems that did not happen. There was less excitement, less hype and lot less to be desired.
At the end of the day, ManShitty is not a big club and Inter is a shadow of its former self and then there is the World Cup factor. It was broadcast at more or less appropriate times, so there may have just been an over-saturation of football, for a country that doesn't know how to cope with it or even begin, or want to begin, to understand the game.
Anyways, club has started to sow its seeds back into every day life. I can start breathing again. 90 minutes on a Saturday afternoon, that is the life!
~LeChat
To begin with, there as the anime convention, which brought out a whole lot of people carrying very large swords and wigs with spiky hair. I think Chamakh was trying to do the same thing with his excessively moussed hairdo.
Then there was the ManShitty - Inter game, which welcomed the antics of some very odd acting football supporters. There is one thing I can say about some of the Mancs that did appear around the pub.
There were no surprises... none at all.
Friday Night
I took in the atmosphere surrounding the unveiling of the ManShitty plaque in the pub. The night started off slow enough but there were good times to be had. My plan was to get there early and hang out a bit.
SlainteLOSC greeted me at the door and we sat near the front waiting for some others to show. I think he was working but you never know with him.
We were plotting on finding Materrazzi and giving him a Baltimore Welcome.
SlainteLOSC made a few phone calls, however, the cheating Italian piece of shit was up in Philadelphia. I think they realized the French Resistance was out for blood or there were too many things named after Lafayette, either way they were not in town until right before the game.
Je t'aime Zizou!
TheCleanOne showed up in his normal cheery mode with Chelski hat fondly on display. Sheffield and WestBrom popped in a few moments later and the corner was now secured. A few Mancs had wandered in from the docks; I only assume that's where they come from.
A few more of the local crew dropped in and that's about the time some of the songs started going on. I think there were some ManShitty uppity folks in suits that assisted with the unveiling but the corner didn't really seem to pay it much mind. We were all busy catching up and prattling on about whatever it is we prattle about.
After the whole ceremony, there were some pictures taken and Blue Moon was sung about 20 times. By this point, Brendan Pelan had set up his guitar and amplifiers, as it was the night he usually plays music, and at that point T-Bone and the Librarian decided to take flight.
Brendan picked up on the Shitty fans singing Blue Moon and started playing along and they started singing a bit louder. I think another couple of songs were played and in one of the breaks You Fill Up My Senses came out of the locals. Brendan also picked up on that as well.
I think he said something to the point of, "Hey I like that song." It was about 5 minutes later, he started playing the original song (Annie by John Denver) and invited us to sing You Fill Up My Senses again. I think we did about 3 times in a row before he went back into singing Annie.
Now you will not get that song out of your head. You're very welcome.
Saturday
Last season the pub showed the Emirates cup. This season, the pub showed the Emirates cup. It's always nice to see some pre-season stuff, sort of puts the taste in your mouth.
When I arrived ArsenalSteve was already sitting there. He had just came back from New York. I didn't ask why, figured it was best that way. We talked a bit about the upcoming season and after a short bit a journalist with cameraman come into the pub. I thought I had seen them outside but didn't pay much mind.
I was in no mood to deal with journos at this time of the morning. They interviewed ThePantsManager and he sent them our way. I remember the journo shaking my hand and quickly declining camera time, shoving it upon ArsenalSteve. My excuse was he's much better looking than me in the morning and the reality of me actually being to shy to talk about football on camera.
I stood in the background with MySonWill pretending to have a conversation about the game on the screen. The whole time we were just making fun of the reporter and the fact that IrishDave kept flirting with her.
My understanding is there is some footage of me that made it onto the television. I still haven't seen it but wish I could find it, just to link it.
Saturday Night
The actual night of the ManShitty-Inter game. I had a show, which I do thank the gods for that. I am so glad I was unable to join in the shit show that was to be. My understanding is that later, after the game, some ManShitty scum had a few too many, jumped up and ripped down the MancScum flag from outside.
Seriously, I, myself have joked about it but find no good reason to do something like that, in a pub on Thames in Baltimore... seriously?
I know, club is important but sometimes you need to keep that and yourself in check. From what I've been told, his friends were a might bit embarrassed and put him in a cab on his way home.
Sunday
Emirates cup glory once again. I got to watch a bit of O'Lyon play. I still love that team. I remember I had a chance to get a kit from a silent auction a couple years ago and flubbed on it.
MySonWill expressed his frustration about the Shitty game from the night before. He said his biological dad, who I think is from Charlton, was very annoyed at the whole game and atmosphere. That seems to be the general consensus.
While I was hoping for something along the lines of the Chelski-Milan match, for the sake of football itself, it seems that did not happen. There was less excitement, less hype and lot less to be desired.
At the end of the day, ManShitty is not a big club and Inter is a shadow of its former self and then there is the World Cup factor. It was broadcast at more or less appropriate times, so there may have just been an over-saturation of football, for a country that doesn't know how to cope with it or even begin, or want to begin, to understand the game.
Anyways, club has started to sow its seeds back into every day life. I can start breathing again. 90 minutes on a Saturday afternoon, that is the life!
~LeChat
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
26 April 2010
Man City HOME
Let's say the day started off well... light... not too many cares in the world. I made an easy one out of it. Headed to the pub for some of the early matches, as usual, with no personal agenda. I caught quite a bit of the MancScum match as they handed the proper Scum a proper beating.
An interesting spectacle did happen though. The Karate kid guy has been showing up a lot more lately. I wonder if it's because MancScum actually have a chance to win the title. You know I'm all for supporting your club but seriously just showing up for the big games and a chance at the title? Who are you kidding? We don't see you every weekend.
Enough of my veiled hatred for bandwagon supporters. However, to be in a pub while WestHam fight for relegation and not a single WestHam supporter was there. I find that truly disheartening.
So where should the beginning of the end start to begin. Shortly after the WestHam match, my Saturday began to unravel. I distinctly remember myself, HalfArseDean, MiniMourhino and LilBlondieGooner heading to the bar around the corner... partaking in happy hour shots.. heading back to the pub.
ManCity himself and crew happened to be there and the BeardedGooner showed up shortly after that. In reality, I think ManCity himself had more of a crew than the Gooners, which is very disheartening, indeed.
BeardedGooner and I decided we would out-city ManCity himself. I actually believe at this time the shots of espresso vodka had begun taking it's toll on me. It was a pretty good time. There weren't many in the pub at all but it was a cacophony of chants and songs and apparently some weird dance number.
I can't say there was anything interesting on the telly. So we made our own fun and just enjoyed a day with football on the screen. I had promised myself to go out to the Palace game but got distracted and ended up at MiniMourhino's place with a can of American craptastic in my hand.
I did get some socks with Special's logo on it... Thanks to ChelskiGirl who stopped in for a few before leaving to her ChelskiWorld.
The rest of the night I spent either sleeping or releasing the bile from my stomach into a waste disposal basket. Well I guess third isn't so bad, now that it's out of my system.
~LeChat
An interesting spectacle did happen though. The Karate kid guy has been showing up a lot more lately. I wonder if it's because MancScum actually have a chance to win the title. You know I'm all for supporting your club but seriously just showing up for the big games and a chance at the title? Who are you kidding? We don't see you every weekend.
Enough of my veiled hatred for bandwagon supporters. However, to be in a pub while WestHam fight for relegation and not a single WestHam supporter was there. I find that truly disheartening.
So where should the beginning of the end start to begin. Shortly after the WestHam match, my Saturday began to unravel. I distinctly remember myself, HalfArseDean, MiniMourhino and LilBlondieGooner heading to the bar around the corner... partaking in happy hour shots.. heading back to the pub.
ManCity himself and crew happened to be there and the BeardedGooner showed up shortly after that. In reality, I think ManCity himself had more of a crew than the Gooners, which is very disheartening, indeed.
BeardedGooner and I decided we would out-city ManCity himself. I actually believe at this time the shots of espresso vodka had begun taking it's toll on me. It was a pretty good time. There weren't many in the pub at all but it was a cacophony of chants and songs and apparently some weird dance number.
I can't say there was anything interesting on the telly. So we made our own fun and just enjoyed a day with football on the screen. I had promised myself to go out to the Palace game but got distracted and ended up at MiniMourhino's place with a can of American craptastic in my hand.
I did get some socks with Special's logo on it... Thanks to ChelskiGirl who stopped in for a few before leaving to her ChelskiWorld.
The rest of the night I spent either sleeping or releasing the bile from my stomach into a waste disposal basket. Well I guess third isn't so bad, now that it's out of my system.
~LeChat
05 April 2010
Wolves at Home
Another holiday weekend passes with much ado about nothing. My Friday was spent stumbling around the point, trying to avoid eating meat and not avoid the finer beverages that life has to offer.
As I stated in the beginning, much ado about nothing. Sushi had become the order of the day and it was a bit underwhelming to say the least. However, the 22 ounce Kirin Lager did make things go down a little better.
I stumbled my way through the windy streets of the lower point and into the pub. It was good fortune, as I had tried to raise MiniMourinho on the phone but he was a bit under the weather.
There on the television, in it's full glory, was the MancScum and Bayern Champions League tie. While some people get upset at knowing the result prior to the finish of the game. I am one who spent most of his early days as a supporter watching replays on Wednesday afternoons when I got home from school.
In my opinion, knowing the result only gives you part of the story. It doesn't give you the full pitch battles that may have happened from end to end. The fluke that just so happened to get bobbled or just how that sprain/broken metatarsal occurred. I am one who enjoys the nuance of a good match.
Let's just say, a few rum and cokes later, I was feeling quite good and quite impressed with what Bayern had shown on the pitch. They look dangerous.
My Friday ended with a short walk up to ChelskiGirl's restaurant for a nice grilled salmon. I guess there is something good about Good Friday after all. It's funny that I follow the tradition in the spiritual sense. It's sort of like making sure I put my left shoe on first, doesn't really have anything to do with anything, just kind of a traditional.
SATURDAY
A big day for a good tie. The two thorns in my side, Chelski and MancScum were facing off. A draw was what I prayed for, as it kept both of them within striking distance and would mean that the Arsenal had a decent chance for top of the league.
As I stated and will state once again, this weekend was much ado about nothing. Seriously, while it was probably the best game I've seen from the two sides in recent week, it ruined what chance of a league title that could be seen.
At the final whistle, I felt like all the wind had been knocked out of me. I started pointing fingers and blaming the MancScum for being mediocre on a day when they needed to be slightly better. In my heart of hearts, I know it came down to those one or two games where the Arsenal drew instead of finishing.
Finishing, I do not believe I understand that word.
The pub had been chock full of Chelski and MancScum. There were quite a few sad faces at the end of it all. MiniMourinho decided to do another stand on the bar for a rousing course of 10 Men went to Mow.
Our small contingent of Arsenal, with the help of Sheffield and Irish decided to start singing about all sorts of things. Some of which had nothing to do with the actual games at hand.
By the time the Arsenal match came on, I was just about hoarse. It was a lackluster match from end to end. The keeper for Wolves played a nice game. I can say that and the last minute finish, well... I don't know what to say but I think the Arsenal was very lucky and I do not mind that chant one bit.
I started to watch the ManShitty match but once it was about 4-nil decided it was best for me to end the day. I mentioned to ManCity himself that they were going to score six and so it was. I think with World Cup coming up, my scoring prediction powers are re-emerging.
SUNDAY
I did not even think about football for once. Can you believe it?
Yah I lie, I just did not go out and watch any. I had more fun arguing with my church going relatives about books of the bible and general fallacies of religion as a whole. Easter is fun!
Miscellany
I am to start doing some guest writing on the Pub blog. Be on the lookout for that. It has to be of a slightly less biting style than this one, or so I've been asked. Now I need to just get myself into gear and do it.
Crystal Palace Baltimore season opener is on April 16 at UMBC. They are in a new league and it was always great fun for a long hot boring summer. This year they are to give the 35ers their own little section with beer garden included. Schedule!
It would be nice to see some of you Pub hooligans, er... I mean supporters out there lending your voice.
~LeChat
As I stated in the beginning, much ado about nothing. Sushi had become the order of the day and it was a bit underwhelming to say the least. However, the 22 ounce Kirin Lager did make things go down a little better.
I stumbled my way through the windy streets of the lower point and into the pub. It was good fortune, as I had tried to raise MiniMourinho on the phone but he was a bit under the weather.
There on the television, in it's full glory, was the MancScum and Bayern Champions League tie. While some people get upset at knowing the result prior to the finish of the game. I am one who spent most of his early days as a supporter watching replays on Wednesday afternoons when I got home from school.
In my opinion, knowing the result only gives you part of the story. It doesn't give you the full pitch battles that may have happened from end to end. The fluke that just so happened to get bobbled or just how that sprain/broken metatarsal occurred. I am one who enjoys the nuance of a good match.
Let's just say, a few rum and cokes later, I was feeling quite good and quite impressed with what Bayern had shown on the pitch. They look dangerous.
My Friday ended with a short walk up to ChelskiGirl's restaurant for a nice grilled salmon. I guess there is something good about Good Friday after all. It's funny that I follow the tradition in the spiritual sense. It's sort of like making sure I put my left shoe on first, doesn't really have anything to do with anything, just kind of a traditional.
SATURDAY
A big day for a good tie. The two thorns in my side, Chelski and MancScum were facing off. A draw was what I prayed for, as it kept both of them within striking distance and would mean that the Arsenal had a decent chance for top of the league.
As I stated and will state once again, this weekend was much ado about nothing. Seriously, while it was probably the best game I've seen from the two sides in recent week, it ruined what chance of a league title that could be seen.
At the final whistle, I felt like all the wind had been knocked out of me. I started pointing fingers and blaming the MancScum for being mediocre on a day when they needed to be slightly better. In my heart of hearts, I know it came down to those one or two games where the Arsenal drew instead of finishing.
Finishing, I do not believe I understand that word.
The pub had been chock full of Chelski and MancScum. There were quite a few sad faces at the end of it all. MiniMourinho decided to do another stand on the bar for a rousing course of 10 Men went to Mow.
Our small contingent of Arsenal, with the help of Sheffield and Irish decided to start singing about all sorts of things. Some of which had nothing to do with the actual games at hand.
By the time the Arsenal match came on, I was just about hoarse. It was a lackluster match from end to end. The keeper for Wolves played a nice game. I can say that and the last minute finish, well... I don't know what to say but I think the Arsenal was very lucky and I do not mind that chant one bit.
I started to watch the ManShitty match but once it was about 4-nil decided it was best for me to end the day. I mentioned to ManCity himself that they were going to score six and so it was. I think with World Cup coming up, my scoring prediction powers are re-emerging.
SUNDAY
I did not even think about football for once. Can you believe it?
Yah I lie, I just did not go out and watch any. I had more fun arguing with my church going relatives about books of the bible and general fallacies of religion as a whole. Easter is fun!
Miscellany
I am to start doing some guest writing on the Pub blog. Be on the lookout for that. It has to be of a slightly less biting style than this one, or so I've been asked. Now I need to just get myself into gear and do it.
Crystal Palace Baltimore season opener is on April 16 at UMBC. They are in a new league and it was always great fun for a long hot boring summer. This year they are to give the 35ers their own little section with beer garden included. Schedule!
It would be nice to see some of you Pub hooligans, er... I mean supporters out there lending your voice.
~LeChat
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
01 March 2010
Stoke Away
Every Monday I seem to forget what happened on Saturday. This Monday being no exception. I won't tell you my secret on how I figure things out but somehow I do.
Saturday
The morning started out well enough. Earlier the previous evening, I believe, ManCity himself sent me a message concerning my allegiances for the days early game. I did not declare one but did let him know that the ball is round and he shouldn't worry too much of the result.
So Chelsea City it was. All nice and lined up for a proper little show. I will admit ChelskiBoys v. ManCity himself was going to make an entertaining breakfast treat.
I took a seat at one end of the bar, just to get a good view. To be honest, all I can remember is several chants about random things. ChelskiGirl looking particularly angry and about to glass ManCity himself. I believe MiniMourhino made a good day out of it either way. He had started the day out quite a bit bouncy and was well on his way shortly after.
Myself, well lately I have found my way into a more frilly drink, or so I've been told. Something happened to me after getting sick when it had snowed. I have not been able to drink more than one or two beers, so I've found solace in Cuba Libres. When I know it's going to be a specially long day, as Saturday was, sometimes... yes sometimes I do have a Malibu and Coke. However, some times has turned into quite often.
I think I was drinking Mount Gay and Coke, which by the way is a horrible rum to order. I almost whisper it under my breath, but when you have friends like Irish, everyone is going to know what you order.
Ah WHAT?.... Mount GAY!..... Do you want an umbrella with that?
Cheers mate, how's the world cup going for ya? OH, yah, that's right France won and we did not cheat. The ref did not blow the whistle. I do not control his whistle.
Alright, we did have a motley mob assembled for the proper match. A Certain Scouser and Pimms had shown up. I believe the Librarian, HalfArseDean, the Sheriff and Arse St. Nick rounded out the table. I may be a little foggy on this but somehow we got the Deputy to leave her beauty rest and join us as well. I think she was promised lunch and ended up with cottage chips.
All I can say is that a political conversation was started. I was told I was preaching to the choir. A Certain Scouser said that she wanted to be the Angry Black Man and somehow I became the Suburban White Chick. There was a half ton of laughter for a few hours on that one.
In character, I offered to make out the Angry Black Man but I couldn't date because my parents would kill me. Then I asked if Angry Black Man could get me a drink. To which the retort was something along the lines of "No Bitch! Get ME a drink!"
Yes, that's right, we went there several times. However, all our revelry was stopped short by a freight train of a tackle by the hand of Mr. Shawcross. I am not going to go into the whole STICK A BOOT IN ON ARSENAL rant. That was saved for Sunday but it was a horror show tackle.
Saturday Night
Clash Tribute at the Sidebar. I will say one thing. What a great show by my little band. It shaped up to be a great day. LilBlondieGooner and NightCaller showed up and had a good time, from what I understand. OH by the way, NightCaller needs a new nickname, as in he has reformed his ways but I need to think of one. Personally, I love his nickname but I did promise to give it a new look.
Anyways, funny thing happened to me at the show. I was sitting in a corner after getting off stage, talking to LilBlondieGooner, NightCaller and friends. This young girl comes up to us and starts to ask someone, thinking it was ScouseDrummer, some questions.
I noticed they were actually about me but I was in post-stage haze. She then started asking about me playing in some band I had never heard of and I guess tried to have a conversation with me. I guess I just wasn't grabbing a clue. After she leaves, LilBlondieGooner pushes me and tells me I have a groupie and should go after her.
I just shrug and say to her, Well she needs to try harder.
I thought it was funny. That's all that matters. Kind of like my other quote of the day.
I'm golden in the box but can't always finish.
I really just need to make a book of quotes. There is always the classic.
My god is a vengeful god and I'm warrior of god. I will chop your fucking head off!
Despite my lack of perception, this girl did try hard. There were some great bands and I did a lot of dancing, fueled by Captain Morgan Spiced Rum. Every time I turned around, she was beside me. ScouseDrummer even pushed me into her at one point in time. I was still on my she needs to try harder soapbox.
I will admit, it was a cute little gesture from a cute little girl. It didn't get creepy or anything and maybe I will be nicer the next time. Otherwise, my weekends are for being a complete cunt to all but my closest. Hell, I can even a bit of a twat to them as well but it's born out of pure love.
Sunday
I could be found, at the same approximate table, with the same approximate people, TWENTY FOUR FUCKING HOURS later. I have to admit, another good time watching the Scousers play. ScouseDrummer, his dad and sis showed up and joined the rowdy bunch on the couches.
MancScum were told to fuck off upstairs for the Milk Cup. I did go up and give some abuse but man it was way too depressing up there. I swear, the Scousers were lively, the game was lively and the atmosphere was a bit more than fun.
Mancs... well it was mighty grim upstairs. Their game was worst than watching paint dry on a humid mid-Atlantic day. The Villa fans were smart and stayed downstairs in the Arsenal section watching the game.
Notes of interest: I had an interesting conversation with one of the bistro boys who was there with his woman. We were just comparing the two places but understood where each other were coming from. I reiterated the story about running into the BigBistroBoy during the Canada-Russia (olympic hockey) match and how he re-introduced himself. I had shook his hand and told him I knew exactly who he was. I don't know if it came off the exact way that it had in my mind but it does make me wonder if you supposedly dislike a place so much, why do you keep showing your face in it?
I don't go and shit on the counter of your Bistro but you say all kinds of shit out of your mouth about how bad people are treated in my pub. If you don't like it, don't come here. Plain and fucking simple. Now I am not trying to start an Us v. Them type of scenario but as I explained to the bistro boys, there is nothing for me at that place. My mates who support other sides, some of whom I've been watching football with for like 7 or 8 years, plus or minus, wouldn't be welcomed there and couldn't watch FuckOff United v. SheepShagger FC at 7 AM for the Godknowswhat Cup.
That's my piece on it. My pub is a football pub, the long and short of it. As a football supporter, I will support my pub until it stops supporting me. At that time, maybe I will look for a new ground. There is still a thing called loyalty, especially when no one else in this fucking city would keep football on the television at any hour of the fucking day from 7AM to 2AM.
Prime example, the pub is showing Hockey in the evenings now. Sunday, OLYMPIC GOLD, CANADA v. USA (I do fly the Quebec flag). ACMilan comes in to watch his game. Do you know what happened? ACMilan got his game on a corner television! ONE lonely fucking ACMilan in a pub filled to the brim with Olympic Hockey fans.
Respect. Football.
oh and the puma Hard chorus....
~LeChat
OH subnote... before I forget.
Crystal Palace supporters group the 35ers are getting a good deal on season tickets. These are good games to go to and something fun to do, especially after WC2010 is done. The 35ers put other supporters to shame. In short, Let me know if you want the Crystal Palace US tickets, plus a free Crystal Palace scarf and a chance to win a trip to LONDON to see Palace at home.
Saturday
The morning started out well enough. Earlier the previous evening, I believe, ManCity himself sent me a message concerning my allegiances for the days early game. I did not declare one but did let him know that the ball is round and he shouldn't worry too much of the result.
So Chelsea City it was. All nice and lined up for a proper little show. I will admit ChelskiBoys v. ManCity himself was going to make an entertaining breakfast treat.
I took a seat at one end of the bar, just to get a good view. To be honest, all I can remember is several chants about random things. ChelskiGirl looking particularly angry and about to glass ManCity himself. I believe MiniMourhino made a good day out of it either way. He had started the day out quite a bit bouncy and was well on his way shortly after.
Myself, well lately I have found my way into a more frilly drink, or so I've been told. Something happened to me after getting sick when it had snowed. I have not been able to drink more than one or two beers, so I've found solace in Cuba Libres. When I know it's going to be a specially long day, as Saturday was, sometimes... yes sometimes I do have a Malibu and Coke. However, some times has turned into quite often.
I think I was drinking Mount Gay and Coke, which by the way is a horrible rum to order. I almost whisper it under my breath, but when you have friends like Irish, everyone is going to know what you order.
Ah WHAT?.... Mount GAY!..... Do you want an umbrella with that?
Cheers mate, how's the world cup going for ya? OH, yah, that's right France won and we did not cheat. The ref did not blow the whistle. I do not control his whistle.
Alright, we did have a motley mob assembled for the proper match. A Certain Scouser and Pimms had shown up. I believe the Librarian, HalfArseDean, the Sheriff and Arse St. Nick rounded out the table. I may be a little foggy on this but somehow we got the Deputy to leave her beauty rest and join us as well. I think she was promised lunch and ended up with cottage chips.
All I can say is that a political conversation was started. I was told I was preaching to the choir. A Certain Scouser said that she wanted to be the Angry Black Man and somehow I became the Suburban White Chick. There was a half ton of laughter for a few hours on that one.
In character, I offered to make out the Angry Black Man but I couldn't date because my parents would kill me. Then I asked if Angry Black Man could get me a drink. To which the retort was something along the lines of "No Bitch! Get ME a drink!"
Yes, that's right, we went there several times. However, all our revelry was stopped short by a freight train of a tackle by the hand of Mr. Shawcross. I am not going to go into the whole STICK A BOOT IN ON ARSENAL rant. That was saved for Sunday but it was a horror show tackle.
Saturday Night
Clash Tribute at the Sidebar. I will say one thing. What a great show by my little band. It shaped up to be a great day. LilBlondieGooner and NightCaller showed up and had a good time, from what I understand. OH by the way, NightCaller needs a new nickname, as in he has reformed his ways but I need to think of one. Personally, I love his nickname but I did promise to give it a new look.
Anyways, funny thing happened to me at the show. I was sitting in a corner after getting off stage, talking to LilBlondieGooner, NightCaller and friends. This young girl comes up to us and starts to ask someone, thinking it was ScouseDrummer, some questions.
I noticed they were actually about me but I was in post-stage haze. She then started asking about me playing in some band I had never heard of and I guess tried to have a conversation with me. I guess I just wasn't grabbing a clue. After she leaves, LilBlondieGooner pushes me and tells me I have a groupie and should go after her.
I just shrug and say to her, Well she needs to try harder.
I thought it was funny. That's all that matters. Kind of like my other quote of the day.
I'm golden in the box but can't always finish.
I really just need to make a book of quotes. There is always the classic.
My god is a vengeful god and I'm warrior of god. I will chop your fucking head off!
Despite my lack of perception, this girl did try hard. There were some great bands and I did a lot of dancing, fueled by Captain Morgan Spiced Rum. Every time I turned around, she was beside me. ScouseDrummer even pushed me into her at one point in time. I was still on my she needs to try harder soapbox.
I will admit, it was a cute little gesture from a cute little girl. It didn't get creepy or anything and maybe I will be nicer the next time. Otherwise, my weekends are for being a complete cunt to all but my closest. Hell, I can even a bit of a twat to them as well but it's born out of pure love.
Sunday
I could be found, at the same approximate table, with the same approximate people, TWENTY FOUR FUCKING HOURS later. I have to admit, another good time watching the Scousers play. ScouseDrummer, his dad and sis showed up and joined the rowdy bunch on the couches.
MancScum were told to fuck off upstairs for the Milk Cup. I did go up and give some abuse but man it was way too depressing up there. I swear, the Scousers were lively, the game was lively and the atmosphere was a bit more than fun.
Mancs... well it was mighty grim upstairs. Their game was worst than watching paint dry on a humid mid-Atlantic day. The Villa fans were smart and stayed downstairs in the Arsenal section watching the game.
Notes of interest: I had an interesting conversation with one of the bistro boys who was there with his woman. We were just comparing the two places but understood where each other were coming from. I reiterated the story about running into the BigBistroBoy during the Canada-Russia (olympic hockey) match and how he re-introduced himself. I had shook his hand and told him I knew exactly who he was. I don't know if it came off the exact way that it had in my mind but it does make me wonder if you supposedly dislike a place so much, why do you keep showing your face in it?
I don't go and shit on the counter of your Bistro but you say all kinds of shit out of your mouth about how bad people are treated in my pub. If you don't like it, don't come here. Plain and fucking simple. Now I am not trying to start an Us v. Them type of scenario but as I explained to the bistro boys, there is nothing for me at that place. My mates who support other sides, some of whom I've been watching football with for like 7 or 8 years, plus or minus, wouldn't be welcomed there and couldn't watch FuckOff United v. SheepShagger FC at 7 AM for the Godknowswhat Cup.
That's my piece on it. My pub is a football pub, the long and short of it. As a football supporter, I will support my pub until it stops supporting me. At that time, maybe I will look for a new ground. There is still a thing called loyalty, especially when no one else in this fucking city would keep football on the television at any hour of the fucking day from 7AM to 2AM.
Prime example, the pub is showing Hockey in the evenings now. Sunday, OLYMPIC GOLD, CANADA v. USA (I do fly the Quebec flag). ACMilan comes in to watch his game. Do you know what happened? ACMilan got his game on a corner television! ONE lonely fucking ACMilan in a pub filled to the brim with Olympic Hockey fans.
Respect. Football.
oh and the puma Hard chorus....
~LeChat
OH subnote... before I forget.
Crystal Palace supporters group the 35ers are getting a good deal on season tickets. These are good games to go to and something fun to do, especially after WC2010 is done. The 35ers put other supporters to shame. In short, Let me know if you want the Crystal Palace US tickets, plus a free Crystal Palace scarf and a chance to win a trip to LONDON to see Palace at home.
25 January 2010
Stoke Away (FA Cup)
Greetings.
Well we all know of the unceremonious exit of the Arsenal from the FACup this weekend by the hands of a very capable Stoke. I can't be ashamed of the loss because it was a hard fought battle of which the scoreline belies.
The pub, however, was full of some interesting happenings this weekend.
Saturday
I entered the pub around 8 or so to be greeted by the smiling Reading fan. There were quite a few of the Chelsea lads in attendance as well. There was a good footballing vibe going on. I took my seat next to Reading and we started discussing the finer points of the match.
ChelskiGirl was stuck in her bed, being lazy. I called her and informed all the lads of such. There were many volunteers who wished to join her but she left her cocoon and joined the rest of us shortly by the half.
Reading and I decided that we were only cheering on underdogs for the rest of the day. We were transfixed to the Accrington Stanley - Fulham match, just because it was more interesting than the Everton - Birmingham tie that was also being shown.
My original plan was to take my leave prior to the end of the match but Leeds was taking on Scum. They had already eliminated MancScum so let's see if they could do the proper Scum.
The pub was still full, much fuller than it had been in the most recent weekends. I was half done with what seemed to be bottomless pints of New Castle, as was Reading. Sheffield and WestBrom pop by and it just continued.
The four of us caught up and chatted, killing time before the Haiti fundraiser. I am still trying to remember if that was even a good idea. All I can say, is some money left my pocket and ended up in the hands of some Scousers.
The event was not at the pub so we did enter some foreign territory. And as followers of the English game, we did what we knew best... found a dart board. The setup was close to the kitchen so the food runners had to keep cutting through. Which at first wasn't that bad but as the night creeped on.
BC/BC bounced up the stairs in the middle of our darts game and I think we all tried to explain it to her but it wasn't working. They also had a Wii, which someone had the brilliant idea of quickly finishing darts and starting Wii-Bowling.
I sat out of that, as I am not biggest fan of bowling to begin with. I believe WestBrom came from behind and beat everyone. It was an enjoyable time. However, like all good things, it had to come to an end.
A Certain Scouser would not believe I was fine. I kept telling her I was just tired, so on the way home I ended up with about 10 text. It would have probably been smarter not to answer all of them but I did.
Safe and sound I found my bed, after about a 12 hour bender, where I believe I ended up more sober by the time I made it home than I started out the day.
SUNDAY
It was to be a short morning, whether or not the result of the match should be considered. My band had to move it's practice space and time, which Sunday afternoon was the final result.
It mattered much not anyway. The Arsenal crew was cynical from the drop of the ball. I think we all had a sneaking suspicion of what type of day it was going to be after the first goal. I have to admit, we are quite a hilarious group even in the midst of a loss. It's been quite some time since we've even sneezed on a trophy, I suppose.
There was a positive side to this all. LittleWill was on his last day before heading back to school. He's a pretty funny kid. We spent a good half hour teasing LittleSister before I had to take my leave.
I guess in summation it was not a bad weekend but not quite a good one. A win would have been nice but now The Arsenal boys can concentrate on the league, which is much more important in my opinion.
The other thing that made the weekend much more pleasurable was being able to spend it with the good folks I have grown to be as close to as members of a large family. There is something unique and special about this football crowd. It may seem insular and strange to an outsider but some of the most generous and open people that I have ever come to know stand beside me on a weekend morning at 8 am swearing at a referee 2000 miles away.
I would not care to be with anyone else but my extended crew.
~LeChat
Well we all know of the unceremonious exit of the Arsenal from the FACup this weekend by the hands of a very capable Stoke. I can't be ashamed of the loss because it was a hard fought battle of which the scoreline belies.
The pub, however, was full of some interesting happenings this weekend.
Saturday
I entered the pub around 8 or so to be greeted by the smiling Reading fan. There were quite a few of the Chelsea lads in attendance as well. There was a good footballing vibe going on. I took my seat next to Reading and we started discussing the finer points of the match.
ChelskiGirl was stuck in her bed, being lazy. I called her and informed all the lads of such. There were many volunteers who wished to join her but she left her cocoon and joined the rest of us shortly by the half.
Reading and I decided that we were only cheering on underdogs for the rest of the day. We were transfixed to the Accrington Stanley - Fulham match, just because it was more interesting than the Everton - Birmingham tie that was also being shown.
My original plan was to take my leave prior to the end of the match but Leeds was taking on Scum. They had already eliminated MancScum so let's see if they could do the proper Scum.
The pub was still full, much fuller than it had been in the most recent weekends. I was half done with what seemed to be bottomless pints of New Castle, as was Reading. Sheffield and WestBrom pop by and it just continued.
The four of us caught up and chatted, killing time before the Haiti fundraiser. I am still trying to remember if that was even a good idea. All I can say, is some money left my pocket and ended up in the hands of some Scousers.
The event was not at the pub so we did enter some foreign territory. And as followers of the English game, we did what we knew best... found a dart board. The setup was close to the kitchen so the food runners had to keep cutting through. Which at first wasn't that bad but as the night creeped on.
BC/BC bounced up the stairs in the middle of our darts game and I think we all tried to explain it to her but it wasn't working. They also had a Wii, which someone had the brilliant idea of quickly finishing darts and starting Wii-Bowling.
I sat out of that, as I am not biggest fan of bowling to begin with. I believe WestBrom came from behind and beat everyone. It was an enjoyable time. However, like all good things, it had to come to an end.
A Certain Scouser would not believe I was fine. I kept telling her I was just tired, so on the way home I ended up with about 10 text. It would have probably been smarter not to answer all of them but I did.
Safe and sound I found my bed, after about a 12 hour bender, where I believe I ended up more sober by the time I made it home than I started out the day.
SUNDAY
It was to be a short morning, whether or not the result of the match should be considered. My band had to move it's practice space and time, which Sunday afternoon was the final result.
It mattered much not anyway. The Arsenal crew was cynical from the drop of the ball. I think we all had a sneaking suspicion of what type of day it was going to be after the first goal. I have to admit, we are quite a hilarious group even in the midst of a loss. It's been quite some time since we've even sneezed on a trophy, I suppose.
There was a positive side to this all. LittleWill was on his last day before heading back to school. He's a pretty funny kid. We spent a good half hour teasing LittleSister before I had to take my leave.
I guess in summation it was not a bad weekend but not quite a good one. A win would have been nice but now The Arsenal boys can concentrate on the league, which is much more important in my opinion.
The other thing that made the weekend much more pleasurable was being able to spend it with the good folks I have grown to be as close to as members of a large family. There is something unique and special about this football crowd. It may seem insular and strange to an outsider but some of the most generous and open people that I have ever come to know stand beside me on a weekend morning at 8 am swearing at a referee 2000 miles away.
I would not care to be with anyone else but my extended crew.
~LeChat
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)