And the hits keep a coming...

Yah I know the titles have left their usual format. Does it really matter? Perhaps no.

It comes down to a win away and a champions league draw to OM. I can't complain about that. OM is a tough team on a bad day. In their honor, I will listen to Keny Arkana, which seems quite appropriate at this juncture in time.



By the way, I find it astounding how many people simply have no clue about what is going on in the world around them, even in their own backyards. Quite disappointing really, this is why I put no faith in people who only wish to rise to the top without stopping to actually smell the daisies. It's all about how fast and not about having any kind of quality to life.

I, myself, am not the be all and know all of anything. However, I will not shrink away from enjoying my life instead of not enjoying it only to earn a few platitudes. The platitudes will fade and become fading script on an old newspaper or useless data on some computer disk somewhere in the world. It's all for naught if life is never enjoyed.

Anyways, enough of my raging. The future is here. HA! The future is fucked.

Come first of the year, maybe before or after depending on my level of lazy, the blog will hopefully be moving to my own domain. The plan is actually to do a 365 blog, for a number of reasons but there is a lot to say, er write.

I actually need to do some planning, sit down and decide which way I want it to look and feel. As you may have figured it will be a bit away from this one, yes there will still be the Football connections as well as some other things; Music, Art, Technology, Commentary, Politics, Philosophy, but most of all simply me and everything that means.

I think therefore I am; I write because I fucking can.

-LeChat

What? They won? YES!

Well what a dynamic weekend!

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

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

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

It was well worth it.

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

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

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

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

I could go on but that would be pointless.

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

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




c'est la vie
~LeChat

Bridesmaids!

I bet that is how the old MancScum are feeling about now. I know this blog is about a day late and always a dollar short. This weekend did prove quite interesting overall.

Saturday started off with a few coordination issues but eventually we all ended up where we needed to be at the right time. Champions League final at the pub. It was also the pre-celebration of HalfArseDean's birthday.

The few of us who had met up at the dollar store rolled around to the pub. The pub was packed. A lot of familiar faces showed up. It was like an end of the year homecoming, if that homecoming had a ton of MancScum that you've never really spied before.

I'm not complaining, just making a point. Most of us did our best to ensure there was an atmosphere of sorts. Even Karate Kid Johnny decided to give it a go and tried to get his fellow Scum supporters into it. He was a bit successful and now a bit more respected.

That's all it takes, really. If you show up, support your club and take your lumps, you get the respect. If you show up, act like an ass when your lumps are given to you, then you can fuck off to the bistro.

At the end of the day, we decided to keep the party going a bit for HalfArseDean. He's a good person and an impromptu party/bar crawl is what he needed. Good times.

Monday saw what was to be a disappointing promotion final for Reading. Myself, Ginger, the Librarian and HalfArseDean showed up at the pub to support. Vinnie, found himself in a seat at Wembley. We were hoping to spot him on the television but weren't so lucky. I guess it wasn't anyone's day, well except Swansea who will probably pick up a point at the Grove next season.

So a weekend of ups and downs, good friends and better drinks. One can't complain about that. Now off to the summer things...

....whatever that is.



You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you. You'd be like heaven to touch. I want to hold you so much. At long last love has arrived. I thank God I'm alive. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you.

Pardon the way I stare. There is nothing else to compare. The sight of you leaves me weak. There are no words left to speak. But if you feel like I feel. Please let me know that it's real. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you.

Bahdah Bahdah Bah dah da da da, Bahdah Bahdah Baaaah!

IT'S AR-SE-LOBA la la la laaa lalaa
It's Arseloba la la la laaa lalaa
It's Arseloba, Arseloba FC

The GREATEST team, that no one has ever seen!

(just a frame of reference. let's get the shirts started)


~LeChat

Barcelona Away (CL) ManYoo Away (FA)

I don't have much to say. Really nothing to say at all.

To be honest, I've given up on things to say. It's really indefensible.

Two competitions in one week. What is there to be said? Nothing at all.

My CD player has stopped working in my car. My laptop has a virus and won't let me restore. Japan got wiped out and there was not a large monster in sight!

Will something restore my faith?

Wait? What's this? JENS? You've got to be kidding.



I don't really care anymore.

~LeChat

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

SP*RS at home

I'm just going to gloss over the reality of what actually happened and concentrate on positive things. I figure through positive thought good things will happen. When good things start happening then I can relax my positive thinking. Sort of like being 2-nil up.... OH wait... fuck.

Friday was good. I went and saw Brian Poshean or however you spell his name. I ran into the Librarian and T-Bone. It seemed like I hadn't seen T-Bone in quite a while but I know it had only been a few weeks. All and all a good comedy night.

Saturday morning, however, I should have just stayed in bed. The pub enjoyed quite a lively crew, even if I was half asleep and feeling the effects of the night before. I know at one time I had done a cartwheel across Howard Street. I distinctly remember that and running away from ScouseDrummer as he was trying to jump on me. I can't even remember why.

In essence, me and a rolled up hoodie found a comfortable spot to enjoy a nice easy Saturday morning. And like most things in my life, it started out well, shiny and bright. The sun rose in the east and the moon set in the west.

However the bane of my existence decided it would monkey-wrench my good feelings. If ten tons of bricks could come down and knock me in my head, I would call it the second half at Ashburton Grove on 20 November 2010. My own personal disaster.

I remember leaning over to GrumpyGooner at one point and making the statement of how those people had done this before. How the singular instance of stupidity residing in North London had come back from a 2-nil deficit and stole points.

I shouldn't just vent my anger, but in short, it ruined the rest of the weekend. I became physically sick and stayed in bed the rest of the day, dancing between sleep and mild annoyance. Thank the gods for Ken Burns Jazz streaming on Netflix.

The only consolation was a Chelski loss, which I had forecast before walking out the door at the pub. I guess not all is loss then.

QUICK non-football update, for those who care.
STATION, otherwise known as my band, will be playing Sidebar on 26-NOV-10 and 4-DEC-10, for those who care. 4-DEC-10 is ScouseDrummer's birthday show, so make it an effort and show for that one or both if you really like us.

And for sticking around, here's some video from the Barclay Show.



~LeChat

Man City Away

11 men went to play.. went to play at City!

Ah, what a great way to end the week. THREE points, unbelievable three points but three points none the less. I was convinced of the draw, even after City went down a man. Statistics has it that once a team goes down, usually the team with advantage has a hard time getting to goal.

However, like everything else, the Arsenal flaunts its shoulders against all odds. Watching the boys get out there and start kicking back, as well as gently caressing the ball along the pitch in that silky smooth way was a joy.

I swear a slight tear formed in my eye as this was starting to look like the team of old. By old, I mean even before Wenger was a household name in Islington. Ye Olde Arsenal was a tough nugget, hated throughout the league, known for kicking the sin out of all heretics and punching one in before the 90 was up.

I could wax on and on about this and that, about when George Graham took over, about when Wenger took over and changed the league, about the emergence of unknowns to penultimate super stardom, about the nastiness given to the club in the media; YEARS and years of it.

Now it looks as if a perfect storm of good ol'English stick a boot in with the smooth flavour of continental passing and speed of fleet footed footballers on beautifully manicured pitches has come to fruition.

I can really only get into the Sunday action at the pub though. Saturday was spent at my cousin's wedding. I watched the morning games from bed or on the tubes. I did download the Football Manager demo, which is pure class. If you ever were a proponent of the old SI Champ Manager, then this is the series you want to play.

So Sunday it is, made it down for the second half of the ManYoo game, which I paid about five minutes of attention to. I think I was talking to the Deputy about food or something, when the Sheriff turned around and said one of the best lines of the week.

I just love Gary Neville's balls.

YES a direct quote. He tried to recover but I know what I heard. It kind of reminded me of this picture.

 

Classic! Need a say more? Sorry Sheriff, told you it was blog worthy and so is that picture. I think it's from one of the cups but I can't remember I must have used it in a previous blog. It just goes to prove something, doesn't it.

(self edit due to the amount of emo suicides lately, don't want to be blamed)

Fine, don't get all mad at me but it's the truth. Now personally I have no problems with you loving on each other like so, that's all well and good. I mean didn't the Greeks do that as well? Just keep it in Manchester.

Anyways, by the time the ManShitty game came on, ManCity himself was quite a few sheets to the wind. He reminded me of the gentleman's wager we had going on and was proper fired up for the match. Too bad it wasn't going to be his day. Originally he was going to head to the bistro to cause a riot but he didn't feel like dealing with the American Football traffic on the south-side.

There was a good crowd on hand for both clubs, which was good to see. HalfArseDean was slumped in the corner being angry. I swear it's quite unusual for him. Myself, or so ManCity himself kept telling me, was out of sorts as well. I don't know.. I think my cousin's wedding killed my spirit. It's the middle of the first half of the football season and you're going to get married. WHAT? Anyways that's all said and done.

So today as I was doing my daily perusal of the Guardian. I found this equally brilliant quote. Now me and Michel P aren't always on the same side of the ball but this is one issue I think we both agree on. I'm just going to totally lift it, damn you copyright.

Uefa's president, Michel Platini, has claimed introducing goal-line technology will lead to "PlayStation football" but admits that referees have to be masochists to cope with all the criticism thrown at them.

He goes on to say;

One referee is not enough, not in the modern era where you have 20 cameras. It is unfair: the cameras can see everything but the referee only has one pair of eyes. Every time he makes a mistake, those cameras are there to focus on it.

Which, like I said, I completely agree with. His idea is to put goal line assistants, right behind the net. While it may be better on paper than actually in practice, I think it's not a bad idea. Ice hockey has something similar going on and it seems to work out, at least they used to, I know they review stuff every now and again but then again Ice Hockey has more play stoppages than Football.

The one true beauty in football is the flow of the game, end to end. The rules, as the Argentines and Italians would say, are a mere suggestion. It is possibly one of the most natural of all the regulated sports, in my opinion.

Joga Bonito?


~LeChat

Chelsea Away

OH how I wish this weekend panned out better. I don't really have much to say about it to be honest. Needless to say it was a good time.

The pub was chock full of people. It was essentially alive with song. Which for being a festival weekend, this was a good thing. I think it kept out the little tourist people.

So, without much to say where does that leave me? No where... that's where.

I took a look at the Guardian's analysis which was interesting, for about 2 minutes. Maybe I'm just bitter.. and angry.. no how about disappointed in the whole affair.

Here's a video


~LeChat

Blackpool at Home

Ah my trickery has succeeded. It was my plan all along to write on Tuesday. It was, I assure you. This weekend provided not much in the way of excitement or joviality at all. I can say it was pretty boring, in a nut shell.

It's common to assume that a win with such a big scoreline would have oneself much overjoyed but due to the lack of real teeth in the attack and a lackluster showing in the middle and back, it wasn't.

Saturday

The pub was actually quite full. There seem to be a lot more Arsenal showing up. Several faces that I have never spied before. This is definitely a good thing. They all seemed to enjoy the atmosphere from the usual suspects.

I, myself, had been in a rather quiet mode. I had things to do, places to be in the afternoon and decided it would best be to save my energy. However, it was also the last weekend for Bayern to be in town before heading to Afghanistan.

Maybe this is why there was a sort of solemn like atmosphere, even in celebration. Or the simple fact that we were running roughshod over Blackpool, who if they were a better quality team, may have given the Arsenal some trouble.

I guess the only thing that gave any real pleasantry was a small clop of Scum supporters had wallowed their way in. With out much haste, they were all seen to the second floor. Funny thing that, they seem to be multiplying like the ManShitty whorde.

I stuck around a bit for the Chelski game, just to see, or hope for a minor upset. However, we know how that ended up. Bayern had left right before kickoff and the pub faithful in attendance sung him out. It was a touching moment, but since he made mention of tearing up on FB, he's officially a poof!

I do hope he does alright and makes it back in one piece. There seem to be a lot more than usual dropping off lately.

After the half of the Chelski game, I was well tired. It was quite a bore to be honest, or I have given up on football. That I seriously doubt. I think I left around 4-nil, at that point, there is none.

I celebrated the evening with the family, being my mother's 76th and all that. It was quite nice, sitting around, making fun of everyone and just doing nothing.

Sunday

If I said I was hungover, that would be a plain lie. My cousins decided that Saturday evening would be best spent on the back porch with a bottle of 100 proof rum. I chose not to imbibe, as I was still a bit done in from the pub earlier that day.

I just hung around in my room, peeking at the MancScum score, but not really caring. I had an itch to go the pub but decided against it. I tend to spend too much money and not have much recollection of the entire process. The weekend tends to fly by, way too fast.

I decided to curl up with my laptop and watch American History X. Well I watched half of it before going to band practice. I swear I hadn't had so much anger in my mind in a very long time.

At one point, I remember sitting in a chair talking to ScouseDrummer and going in a full tilt rant about how screwed up things are with the whole political climate in the United States. How the same anti-immigrant rant done by Ed Norton in American History X was the exact same one I heard from some fat sweaty politico on the news, and the fact that racist drek is fully accepted now.

I know, preaching to the choir.

Monday

All be it an over-exhilarating day at the work place; Understaffed, OVER busy followed by computers crashing right after lunch. GrumpyGooner gives me a call and for some reason I answer it. Well it is quite odd for him to call me during the middle of the workday and figuring that nothing else bad could happen. So, I answer.

Bad Manners were playing an underground show at an undisclosed warehouse. He made it clear that it would be in my best interest to show up. I usually take him at his word.

After I got off work, I gave ScouseDrummer a call, he'd heard about it from another source and we were both trying to figure out whether we were heading down. He hadn't seen the result of the Liverpool match and I was biting my tongue not to let it blurt out.

I got to the space a bit early, so drove around the corner for a pint. By the time I came back, there were quite a few more cars outside. Walking in I was greeted by GrumpyGooner and ChelskiJohn.

ScouseDrummer had been milling about with some of the other skins and I caught up with him for a bit. It was a pretty good crowd. In the corner, on a set of couches, was NorthLondonYid and crew. He came over and we talked a bit about the Bale goal and games this upcoming week.

He went on about the Young Boys pitch being a bit dodgy and that half the squad had succumb to injuries because of it. I made mention that it must be something in the water or air or something to that effect, as the Arsenal is well aware of playing with half the starting XI out due to injury.

The show was pretty good, even though Bad Manners took their time getting on the stage to play. Scotch Bonnets, the only other band to play, had been done their set about 2 hours prior. GrumpyGooner finally went over and whispered something into someone's ear and they were up on stage... Nice one.

So that is what happened to not publishing on Monday. If anyone really cared. And for my finalé, some old school Bad Manners.



~LeChat

Emirates Cup o' Noodles

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

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

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

There were no surprises... none at all.

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

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

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

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

Je t'aime Zizou!

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



~LeChat

Had to do it - WC 2010 preview

AHHH! I can't do it... I swore to myself I was going to leave it... let it be... not even poke my head in on the pub blog... but god be damned curiosity and bloody fucking cats!

As of late, for those of you who don't know. I did take a venture across the pond to watch Sheffield and the lovely now Ms.Sheffield (formerly WestBrom) tie the knot, jump the broom and release some doves. It was my first trip to Italy, in any way shape or form, and I have to admit it was pretty nice. It totally changed my perspective on the boot shaped nation.

Don't get me wrong though, as far as I'm concerned they are still a bunch of diving, whining, wind up merchants who compete with the Argies on how far they can bend the rules of the game. I mean seriously only an Argie could hit someone with a car and back up and tell them it was their fault for getting in the way. HI DIEGO!

So, the question on everyone's mind, probably not, what's the WC2010 looking like for LeChat? I'm figuring it's going to be something very interesting. I've been asked on two different continents and an island, my thoughts so far. I, of course, hmmm and haaa, and try and get out of those conversations rather quickly; with the exception of ACMilan who has a way of interviewing me like a Daily Mail reporter at a press event.

Summed up... I pegging a dark horse to ask some questions this year.

Hold on, that didn't come out right. Let's take a look at the groups.

A - South Africa, France, Uruguay, Mexico
First off.. I spelled Uruguay correctly the first time. To be honest, I don't see South Africa making it out of this stage. Secondly, I think, with a bit of luck Uruguay could and will make it hard for Mexico and France.
At the end of the day - Mexico and France, no clear favorite (Allez Les Bleus)

B - Argies, Nigeria, Korea, Greece
I think this is pretty much done. Two of these squads have a good history of succeeding on the international level. The other two, I'm sorry to say, have been lucky in their runs. The only thing that could really put a damper on it, would be a finding the kryptonite that works on the Argies.
At the end of the day - Argies followed by Greeks

C - England, Estados Unidos, Algeria, Slovenia
Both England and the US have had a few players go down like zeppelins. I think one of the dark horses could come out of this group. It's hard to pick which one though, while not necessarily a group of death as everyone likes to use that stupid term. It's hard to see the two English speaking squads both moving on for me.
At the end of the day - England and someone else

D - Germany, Australia, Ghana, Serbs
This is probably one of the tougher ones. Germany is missing a key player but they should be safe, to say the least. Ghana is also missing a key player. The Serbs put up a good fight during the run up to the cup but from what I understand, the wind may be gone from their sails. Australia is, well, a bit cute isn't it. *pinches Australia's cheeks*
At the end of the day - Germany and either Ghana or Serbs as a dark horse

E - Netherlands, Denmark, Japan, Cameroon
Well with Van Der Sloot about to serve a sentence, oh wait, I mean Robben out of the Cup... well to be honest, it shouldn't have too much of a lasting effect. I have to say I'm pulling for Cameroon to do what they got to do, just so Eto'o can smile. He never smiles. Well maybe once he did.
At the end of the day - DUTCH and Cameroon

Coffee Break - Now why did I actually decide to do this, type all these things... I don't know.... By the way, does anyone know where to get a good espresso downtown. Caribou Coffee is horrendous and I don't want to go into Java Joes twice a day.

F - Italy, Paraguay, New Zealand, Slovakia
Do I really need to continue the exercise with this one? Honestly? It's all about who will come in second. Italy has the easiest draw since Simon picked up chalk and the pictures came to life. I see the cheaters burning bright for the group, the 16 and quarters but feel they will not make further than that. I wasn't really paying much attention to the other three in this training ground selection.
At the end of the day - Italia and reader's choice



G - Brasil, Other Korea, Cote d'Ivoire, Portugal
When I was a wee kitten, my mom had a thing for a certain man named Pele. I should ask my mom why she didn't just runaway and take me to Brasil. Damn her and being sensible. Of course I'd probably be running with the less than legal crowd if that did happen. Anyways, enough dreaming of beautiful Rio beaches, carnival and Ronaldhino, because none of those will be in South Africa. So I have a soft spot for Brasil, it's something that relates to my youth, as opposed to those who go to the local sports store and put on the colors because it's easily recognizable and acceptable in mainstream US of A. (le sigh) My second soft spot is Cote d'Ivoire. I think they will do well despite the loss of the Drogba. Portugal will be a non-threat as they do very poorly against their South American cousins and as long as Cote d'Ivoire don't allow them to play. The only thing I'm allowed to say about Other Korea is they will win, no matter the result. I only joke about these things. They will put up a good fight but don't have the passion or creativity to deal with the other three in their group.
At the end of the day - Brasil, Cote d'Ivoire or a surprise Portugal

H - Spain, Switzerland, Honduras, Chile
I know Spain is tapped as the favorite by all the media. I think they've been in that position before... many times before. I love Spanish football, don't get me wrong but they do have this thing about choking towards the very end of the tournament. I don't know whether it's an internal thing, the longing for paella and gazpacho or something else. I think Honduras is a tough team who should do well. Switzerland and Chile could go either way, but Honduras is going to be my dark horse out of this group.
At the end of the day - Spain and Honduras

Final Whistle - I figure since World Cup has now become so cliched I might as well keep it up in the blog, no? Like I said, and probably have said once or twice, the final is going to be one of the big boys, either from Europe or South America, your choice and some one unexpected. I don't see my beloved Les Bleus making it to the final and I am hoping Domenech.. never mind I was told not to ever wish ill on someone, no matter how inept they are.

Like Eto'o said, "The question we have all the time is whether an African team is able to win the World Cup. But the real question is whether the world is ready for an African team to become champions." (guardian)

It would be nice to see Cameroon or Cote d'Ivoire take it to the final. It will finally prove that Africa, as a continent has finally, without a doubt arrived. It has to be done with style and substance though. I see both of these teams having it, on their better days.

Serbia, might just be another surprise. If they can get back up to pace, they should at least make the 8 and possibly the 4. It would also be nice to see someone like Algeria, or Uruguay make it out of the 16 as well but that's really stretching a wish.

Since, I can't keep from typing these damned things, expect some more.

Ciao!
LeChat

Barca Away (CL)

I sold my team for 2 packs of crips and a pint of porter. While I sat in my semi-air conditioned office building, shuffling papers for the good of those who can't afford an attorney but need representation. FOUR THOUSAND AND NINE MILES away, mas o menos, my beloved club dropped the ball against my other loved but not as much club.

In a perfect world, it would have been a final. I would have loved another Arseloba final. But no. 90 degree weather NO! Building management ceasing to realise the outside temperature is not suppose to equal the inside temperature NO!

So, I remember at one point in time, leaving my desk, absentmindedly walking out into the hall to check my phone for scores and messages, and getting this distinct sinking feeling.

It was as if I heard thousands of souls crying out in pain and then silence.

It was no moon.

The little green light danced at the top of my mobile. My comrade, A Certain Scouser, had been sending me various texts on the colour of Theo's boots and the statistics of Barca versus Arsenal completed passes. That was all I needed to know that it had all gone pear shape with no room for recovery.

I had to wait for my usual mid-week vehicle of ArsenalTV to take a good look at the highlights this morning. I dared not read an actual article of the foretold disaster that laid, well now behind me. My only real surprise about it, is the Arsenal scored first off of a really bad ball, all the way around.

I made mention to the actual tie on the Pub blog, found here. I honestly can't really think of much to say about it all. We got beat. We got beat well. We got beat honest.

ChelskiGirl sent me some condolences, to which I could only reply with indifference. I didn't expect much to happen. A miracle was needed. ACMilan also thought I'd be a bit more upset. I actually think it wrinkled him a bit that I wasn't.

I don't know. I have seen many highs and many lows to not really care when the expected result is concluded and... well... expected. The score line was not even a surprise. Let's just say, all of the goals were even underwhelming.

By the way, GET US OUT OF FUCKING SCUM WHITE!

I will not stand for this shit anymore. Seriously!

WE ARE THE FUCKING ARSENAL!

OK good news, now that I've let that out, mentioning clubs that play in white who are usually facist dictator loving narcissist. My Real loving cousin finally made it back from the Middle East. There is a nice video of him and his wing returning.

Hopefully I can get him out to some Crystal Palace games and World Cup ties this summer. We will see. We will see.

Oh and headline of the week, courtesy of the Guardian.
MANCHESTER UNITED CRASH OUT OF EUROPE

I swore it said crashed in Munich before. Oh wells, not going to grasp at too many straws to fit my own agenda.

And a little note to ACMilan, I will dig out the post where you said it was going to be an all English final. I will throw it in your face and say to you, I told you it was not going to happen.

Never doubt the great predictor! I got nine lives and a sixth sense.


~LeChat

Stoke Away

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

Saturday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Saturday Night

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Respect. Football.

oh and the puma Hard chorus....


~LeChat

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

Portsmouth Away (New Years Eve)

Alright, alright.

First of all I want to wish everyone a Happy New Year. I hope all your celebrations went well and you are looking forward to the fun of the weekend. My celebrations will be tame by virtue of falling ill once again with a cold. Figures, the last day of the year, I spend half of it in bed. However, the second half is proving to be more of the usual show.

(I believe it was the shot of Brugal in the tea.)

Quick reminder, for those who are coming. Station (my band) is playing the Sidebar on the 2nd. I hope that you all can make it out, but if not, so be it.

So Portsmouth, a team I actually feel kind of bad for, is having tons of issues both on and off the pitch. I hope they can get it together. Here is to wishing Pompey a better new year and to a great escape out of relegation.

I remember, fondly, Leeds dropping... dropping... dropping and I really didn't care too much. They, well didn't deserve to drop, but I had no real feelings for it either way. Portsmouth on the other hand I have a soft spot for.

Play up Pompey. Play up!

So shall I do a quick look back? Well not really, nothing exciting is happening. I started this blog on a whim, well a well thought out whim. I felt like there were stories from a supporter's perspective that needed to be told. We all hear about this player and that, this coach and that, but we seem to forget about what makes the teams keep going.

They cynic in me would say, the all mighty pound, dollar, euro or what have you. In essence though, the bare bottom of it, is heart. Now I sound like one of the Cantona Joga Bonito adverts.



The fact of the matter is, if there wasn't this heart, passion or rabid spirit for these teams/leagues. There would be no teams/leagues. For comparison, while the MLS is still a toddler there is not as much support, even in comparison to say Coca Cola division 2. Better yet, let's talk about the defunct NASL.

The NASL had names with star power, even changed some of the rules to accommodate the masses, however it did not enjoy the same support as some of the European and South American leagues and teams. It's this support, the cogs in the wheel that keep things going.

The only time you hear about supporters of proper football, it is usually in the light of "hooliganism" reported by some short-sighted journo who needs a story before their deadline. While I'm not against like minded individuals stomping the shit out of each other on a Saturday afternoon. I am against the over-simplification and denegration of the wide range of supporters that do exist.

This is why I do this blog. Hopefully someone will stumble across it and it will open their eyes and they will go "Hey, this doesn't seem all that bad Martha." They will come to understand that because someone puts on a kit and scarf and sings mildly offensive songs at the top of their lungs at 9 AM on a Saturday morning, that they are not bad people or even miscreants or soccer hooligans, as a woman put it to me a few seasons ago.

Well here's to a new decade and hopefully an excellent finish to an already surprising EPL season. I hope to see those that are near soon and those that are far, some time later.

Bonne Annee

~LeChat

Villa at Home (and other holiday stuff.. so it is long)

Alright, here we go. I was debating on whether I should start this from mid-week or not. I decided, probably against my better intuition, why not... funny things did happen. So grab a cup of tea and some warm slippers.

Christmas Eve-Eve

The night prior my old indoor friends were looking for people to fill in for their match at local indoor arena. I had nothing better to do so figured I would make an appearance and run around a bit. I jotted out a quick, "I'll be there," and that was done.

After work, I decided it would be best for me not to travel all the way to the homestead and go have some food and drinks at one of the fine establishments between the arena and work. I made some calls and met up with ChelskiGirl for a couple. She was filling me in on her trip, since I hadn't heard anything from her since she had returned.

Somewhere along the second cocktail or so, a bright idea came across to go see this Polish Christmas Carole Parade. We met up with a couple of her friends and ended up amongst a mob of Polish/Semi-Polish or whatever. There was a truck pulling a guy with an accordian, a drummer with a full drum set and a couple of horn players.

I mean it had to have been well over 100 people all massed on Broadway singing Jingle Bells. When we got up there with the santa hat wearing friends, it was just in time for the critical mass to begin its movement.

Things to note: Christmas Eve Eve was bloody cold, well bloody cold to be walking around and caroling. I just wanted a beer. Apparently, there are other people who really like this sort of thing. Correction: A shit ton of people who like said thing.

That's me hiding my face with one of the Santa Hat wearing friends.

Well after following the procession around for five more minutes, ChelskiGirl and I ducked out to her other place of employment to imbibe in some Chocolate Stouts. It was just the thing needed for a cold winter night.

My infinite wisdom, having about 3 of these Stouts, was in a mood to go play some football. I was tip top as they say. I make it to the arena and play had already started. I changed into the old uniform, felt good, made my way to the floor and hopped on as a sub. Less than 1 minute on, the other team wanted me to change, for kit clashing. The ref was even a little confused and whispered a comment as such.

Being the uniformly anal person I am about my kits, I put on the other black one, without the white fade and all was good. There's not much to mention of the game. I stumbled around for a bit, shoved a couple of people but didn't gain any cards.

I was having a good time though, so I hope I can fill in some other time. My ankle didn't even bother me, which is always double plus good. Now if I could only get the defense to pump the ball forward to me, then maybe I could have one of my little cheeky goals that I like.

On the way home, in my mind... I started calling randomly selected people from my phone. I still don't know why. A Certain Scouser was the unlucky one who answered. We talked for a bit, apparently she was in Buffalo robbing houses or something. That's all I can really remember her saying and something about not driving crazy, still unsure on that last part.

Actual Christmas Eve

The day started out nice. I was surprised that my ankle wasn't giving it to me, which had me overjoyed. That evening, some of us were getting together for a Christmas Eve dinner. I was bringing the eggnog or so it had been decided over Chocolate Stouts the night before or somewhere along the line.

I will point out two cool things, besides giving ChelskiGirl her BFF mug, which was more embarrassing to buy than anything else. A big giant pink mug for my BFF, I know the girl at the register was thinking I had some issues. Well I did get this great Madness tea towel. I need to figure out where to put it, but that's the first cool thing.

Second cool thing was Birmingwho coming in late, a bit well for the wear. He offered some vodka that he had but there was less than a quarter of the bottle left. He was in rare form and kept saying "Arsenal are going to lose to Villa, you know that right." He must have repeated it like 5 times before knocking over several glasses of water and then passing out on the couch.

Christmas Day

Two words: BRUGAL RUM!

My Real (facist) loving cousin's wife had me in the family Christmas exchange. We cracked it open and had cuba libre's all afternoon. Beauty, eh?

Boxing Day!!! (St. Stephen's Day)

This has seriously become my favorite holiday, especially over the most recent years since you can get so many games on the satellite now. It's footballing heaven. Well, the Arsenal weren't playing til Sunday, due to whatever genius who created the schedule. However, the day did hold some nice points dropping surprises and a Scouser win. You don't see too many of those lately.

I just realized my speakers have gone to shit on my desktop. It took an Untouchables song to realize it. Hmm, surround sound here I come.



Boxing day had a weird non-influx of people. HalfArseDean pointed it out but I hadn't noticed. It was a significantly smaller crowd than in the past. Maybe the weather, maybe people traveling cause of the weekend being long but it still had an energy about it in my opinion.

I LOVE BOXING DAY!

St. John the Apostle's Day (otherwise known as the day after Boxing Day)

Did I ever tell you I love the Saint's calendar? It's a very interesting hodge podge of people who have been beatified. Now don't think I'm some over zealous religious nut but I do find the subject interesting to say the least. I blame it on Art History, you can't escape the subject.

The Arsenal were playing early, so as normal I did not go out late the night before. I make it into the pub to be greeted by an overly jovial GrumpyGooner. Well with a very loud, "Yah fahkin Cunt!"

His excuse is that he had been up all night, enjoying the life and got zero sleep. I do feel bad that his girl had to wake him up and drag his big ass down to the pub. GrumpyGooner was in rare form, even tried picking a fight with a 4 year old, who probably could have taken him in his state. The 4 year old was non-plussed to say the least. His mum is a Gooner, so she made sure GrumpyGooner didn't get the bottle to the head.

Well the pub Gooners are starting to have some injury woes as well, LilBlondieGooner broke her clavicle or something. She's in a brace, but seriously, don't help her cut her French Toast. She was about to stab NightCaller.

HalfArseDean wound her up a little bit as well. I thought she was going to have him. I thought they gave you pain medication to sedate you. I mean she's small and all, would figure she'd be half knocked out.

Bayern gave me a nice shirt. I felt kind of bad, cause as usual I was present-less. I just wanted to give a big hearty thanks mate and seriously...

Who the Fuck Are MAN UNITED?

I am going to give it to Hull, making them bastards work for their points. I just wanted them to drop two. I hadn't counted on a Hull win but it would have been nice. It would have been nice. It would have been nice. MancScum!

Oh and for those that read this and like American Football.

FUCK PITTSBURGH! FUCKING SCUM!

MONDAY (Sorry I am not looking up the Saint)

OK, I know it's not the day after but this is comedy gold, and I quote, The Guardian of course,...

Roberto Mancini, the new Manchester City manager, predicted his side could catch Chelsea at the top of the Premier League after their 3-0 defeat of Wolverhampton Wanderers maintained his immaculate start as Mark Hughes's replacement.

DUDE, you beat Wolves! Calm down. Calm Down.

Ciao
~LeChat

Liverpool Away

What a glorious weekend! I will admit my memory of certain said events have faded due to the Sunday Funday Good Luck Day of events that transpired. However I believe I should keep this in some kind of chronological format.

Saturday

I found myself putting up the lights for Christmas, one of my least favorite activities. I really don't see much point in it anymore, they're just stupid little lights. Maybe it is others that find this to be of some enjoyment, personally I feel it's an act of futility.

However, the fact of the matter is that I need to play nice to keep a roof over my head and not pay rent. So, my Saturday was to be spent putting up these bloody lights and sitting around in my room playing video games.

Yes, this was my big plan. I am not that interesting of a person. Give me a web connection and a fast computer and I will hole up for days living off of microwave meals, coffee and other refreshing beverages.

Fine, I will leave out for some Chick-fil-a or to get more beer/rum/grey goose.

I am about to settle in and then I get the miracle text -
(by the way I apparently can't spell miracle correctly in 3 tries)

10.56AM ChelskiGirl: Well this isn't good. Angry Chelsea fans.

My interest is peaked. I realized I hadn't looked at any scores at this time. I had just got in from hanging the lights and was just settling down in my chair for a day of gaming fun.

10.57AM LeChat: Oh Yah?

I hop on the laptop, click click click, Guardian football scores.
CONFIRMED! Chelski was bottling it big time against Everton. Which serves ChelskiGirl right for going to London and seeing Madness.

There is a GOD and he/she/it loves the Arsenal.

I dropped whatever it was that I was planning, put my shoes, coat and gloves back on and headed towards the promised land, or as I call it the pub.

11.08AM ChelskiGirl: Sad quiet and grunting

All I can say is that I made it to the pub in record time. Schumacher would have been proud. I walked in just as the second half was starting and IrishDave is giving it up big time to the ChelskiBoys. I got a few glaring but welcoming nods and I think someone may have told me to go home. I just smiled and found a spot to watch the dismantling of the glorious Chelski at the hands of a mid-table Everton.

11.18AM LeChat: hehe

Chelski scores one shortly into the second. The Boys were doing their little dance and song. I quietly vowed to myself not to come down for any more Chelski games, since it must be me who is giving them luck.

11.22AM ChelskiGirl: Better now!

At this point in time, I am figuring this will just end up being another shit weekend. I got my hopes up only to have them shattered, once again. Then in the glory of a once most hated and now semi-liked striker who shall go by the name of SAHA. Saha salvation is now upon us in 4 minutes.

11.26AM LeChat: Yes much better

11.27AM ChelskiGirl: Fuck you

Such harsh words. I, however, was more than content with the draw. I couldn't help but not wipe the Chesire grin off my face. The ChelskiBoys for the most part consigned themselves to the result as we all focused on bewitching the MancScum.

Word around the pub about this time is that Wolves had stuffed Scum, 1-Nil. ManShitty, which had a small vocal crowd in the back section had also drawn to Bolton.

Quick note: There was a random Scum supporter. I hadn't really been paying attention but assumed he was ManShitty from the bluish colour of his kit. He mentioned something about covering it up. I looked at him after he had pulled his jacket closed and said something to the effect of Bolton being a tough team.

He chuckled nervously and said "OH, no, we lost to Wolves," then showed me the badge.

I laughed, "Ha! Fucking scum deserved it."

We spoke a little bit about league positions and then he had to leave. I took the table he was sitting at, just to have a good view of the televisions and optimum abuse hurling positioning.

There was actually a good number of United supporters. HalfArseDean and I were making comments how the one guy looked like the blonde kid from the Karate Kid movie. This led to several movie quotes between the two of us and the Sheriff.


Villa go up with the Agbonlahor strike and I kid you not, more than half the pub started cheering. However, it was a nervous second half. MancScum has the ability to turn a 1-nil first half into a 1-4 second half rather quickly or as ChelskiGirl put it, "London is waiting with baited breath... VillaVillaVilla."

To add to my mood, the fat C*nt Rooney gets a card for diving. I felt like I was in an alternate universe. I think everyone did, about fucking time.

The second half seemed to drag on forever and 3 days. When it was all said and done and the final whistle was blown, the scoreline stood. One Nil to the Villa!

I found the exit, as I had plenty to do and didn't want to kill my bank account before the Scouser match on Sunday.

SUNDAY SUNDAY SUNDAY!

Live at the pub, Thames Street, Baltimore.

In this corner, wearing the red. The Red tide of money snatching, granny mugging, hubcap robbing, ice pick striking northern bastards.... SCOUSERS!

In the opposite corner, wearing the away blue. The youthful and rather short side, visiting from the beautiful Ashburton Grove, North London... The Royal ARSENAL!

For those who don't know, well if you are reading this, you probably do know, that Gunner-Scouse fixtures are a big deal, no matter when they come on the calendar. They are akin to any of the big 4 meetings, more respectful and sporting than say a Gunner-MancScum fixture and less one-sided than Gunner-Scum fixtures.

Ahh, I remember the snatching the league at Anfield, 1989.
10 minutes for you to enjoy. A moment I can relive over and over.
Thank GOD for YouTube, seriously.



I appeared at the pub early, to get some breakfast in and find a good seat, as I expected the Red Scouse Tide to takeover the pub, as usual. HalfArseDean had beaten me there and I settled down at the booth with him.

It was actually quite quiet for some time. WestsideScouser came in shortly after and grabbed the small table where he's usually sitting. We all joked around for a bit, no one really expecting anything to happen.

WestsideScouser was telling us about one of the ChelskiBoys that he's good friends with. Apparently, he takes quite some time getting all primmed up before he comes out. I vow to start calling him Girlfriend from now on.

WestsideScouser agrees that it is spot on. Girlfriend shows up about 10 minutes after, and is greeted by his new nickname, taking it in stride like a good woman should.

He's always quick on the quips anyways so he gives it as much as he takes it. Hmm, talking about a ChelskiBoy like that makes me feel kind of gross.

Gooners started coming in about 30 minutes before kick off, Scousers seemed to be running late. It was really odd. However, the usuals were in place. GrumpyGooner, HalfArseDean, LilBlondieGooner, Nightcaller, Bistroboys(Yes, some have come back and I know they probably hate that I refer to them that way but I never have been to the Bistro, they have) and several others.

A good Arsenal showing I must say. We understand the importance of every point at this point in the season. It has come to a do or die situation and with the results from Saturday, now we have the drivers seat.

Scousers were still a little thin. A Certain Scouser hadn't even showed up. The Librarian had sent out a text with no response. MancDJ had also popped in looking for her as well. Time was counting down and I have to admit I was a bit surprised she hadn't shown up, so I called.

No answer. Very odd but I figured she was being her usual self, whatever that is. I swear the girl has multiple personality disorder but I'm going to leave it at that. I think she would swear to it as well.

All in all it was a decent game, with a semi-decent gathering. I got really angered by the first Scouse goal and paced all over the place during the half-time break. I knew the weekend had gone too well and the Arsenal had bottled it, like everyone else.

Then lo and behold, like the savior he did not wish to become, Glen Johnson (own goal). Followed by the beauty and precision of a finely tuned automobile, er... Russian fashion designer, Yes! Little Arshavin puts in the most beautiful goal that I have witnessed in ages.

Overjoyed does not describe the feelings that yours truly had at the moment. HalfArseDean was there to whisper "Calm down, Calm down," to me just because it wasn't over yet. Let's just see it was a good finish.

2 crucial goals at Anfield, 20 years and 6 1/2 months later.

After the match, most of the crowd dispersed. Happy Gooners, disappointed Scousers and the few random usuals hanging about. MiniMourhino, Sheffield, ACMilan, LilBlondieGooner, NightCaller and myself hung around for a bit. DoratheExplorer joined us for a bit, which is always a fun time.

NightCaller and I decided to give ScouseDrummer some abuse. I dialed his number and before a word could be spoken he answered. FUCK OFF!

You got to love your mates, even if they are Scouse.

Our little crowd, with the encouragement of Irish started doing football chants during the Ravens game. It was pretty hilarious. The normals who had come in, either laughed or looked in pure shock at us. Someone commented "Isn't their game over?", which was promptly followed by It's ARSELOBA LALALALALA!

Some abuse was hurled around and a lot of laughter. One couple after a rather course round of abuse between myself and Irish decided they had enough, quickly paid their tab and fucked off. We all knew it was a small victory and laughed amongst ourselves.

All good things must come to an end. I agreed to take NightCaller and LilBlondieGooner up to NightCaller's restaurant. LilBlondie and I sat and ate some food that NightCaller had prepared for us. Good times!

By the way, spot on suggestion on the meal NightCaller! Cheers!

I headed back to my hovel, satiated and in a brilliant mood. A great weekend with good mates and wonderful results all around.

It's AR-SE-LO-BA LALALALALALA! ARSELOBA FC! The greatest team that no one has ever seen!

~LeChat

Midweek - ManCity Away (Carling Cup)

I am out of witticisms like the Arsenal in the Milk Cup. Lately writing these blogs have been a great chore. I don't mean like washing dishes or mopping the floor. I am talking about stripping the walls, putting on a base coat and then covering that with a nice warm red currant with gold accents. I can't even make it pretty anymore.

A week or so ago, I didn't feel up to doing a mid-week. It didn't really matter much anyways but A Certain Scouser reminded me of it. I don't know whether to damn her for actually pointing out the fact or thank her for actually being an avid follower.

I know I've strayed from my usual blogginess as well, for that I do apologize but November is a not so good month for me traditionally. I can't even blame it on the form of my beloved Arsenal but on more personal matters that I don't really care to go into on such a public forum.

So, lets take a little time and reflect on the recent past and look at what lies in the near future. It's December now, so we can do that whole Charles Dickens Christmas Tale type of thing.

Past or as I like to call it, November and before

The outrage over a certain HANDsome gentleman and his marvelous skills lending a HAND to a lackluster display by LesBleus. I really like how this seems to be the main focus of everything with the world cup, never mind the band of marauding Gibbons or whatever that are terrorizing South Africa right now.

Despite that everything about the pub has been pretty much status quo; too many Scousers, not enough MANCScum, One very enthusiastic ManShitty supporter and a couple of his friends... and the Chelski lads with all their phones on vibrate.

LoudmouthGooner has gone missing, possibly found the Bistro, not that I care but it is interesting. What is more interesting is the number of Bistro boys that end up at the pub anyways since they want to see some other game.

Present (like the last week or so)

I had the great pleasure of watching American College Football with T-Bone, Grubbs and MiniMourhino at an undisclosed location just outside of the Point. I have to admit I have never seen T-Bone so ramped up over anything. It was a serious twilight zone moment.

And I quote, "RUN MOTHERFUCKER RUN!"

I discovered in order to make me not hate her for going to London/Dublin as well as going to see Madness, ChelskiGirl can be really nice. I know that you have been bribing me but it's all good. Cheers! Have a good trip!



Love that song.

FUTURE (December and Beyond)

I do look forward to Boxing Day. I don't know why but it's just a thing that I always look forward to, as far as football goes. I am not even sure what the ties are that day.

Oh to rewind a bit, ACMilan sent me a text about the pots being chosen for WC2010. I think FIFA has a good system for it but I really don't like the pot system to begin with. I like complete randomness. However, like he said, it will be very interesting to see how things work out.

The Guardian ran an article about how there will be a serious group of death this time, if the balls bounce the right way. My only hope is that with all the controversy and conspiracy theories that...

1. France makes it out of the Group stage;
2. England does not go out on penalties, and;
3. South Africa (as a country) does not have any major problems with crime, government collapsing, marauding wild animals or any of the other things that might otherwise distract the rest of the world from the beautiful game.

On a more personal note:

My glorious musical group will be playing a couple of shows at the Sidebar. So mark your calendars friends or enemies and come out for a night of angry music.

January 2, 2010 - it's a week after Boxing Day!

Here's to hoping the train gets back on track and see you all at the pub.

SALUT!

~LeChat

Wooooooolves (Away)

I can not say there is much joy happening right now. I am in nervous anticipation for the next weekend. WC2010 qualifiers, France-Ireland. I am usually not too nervous about such affairs but it began preoccupying my mind late Sunday after getting off the phone with ACMilan.

It is funny how a wonderful weekend can turn into a "wonder what the hell next weekend will bring", in a matter of moments. So, does Ireland make me nervous? Yes, I just said that. I wish I really could put my finger on why without resorting to my old stand by of,

Domenech can not be trusted with the national team and he must have some naked pictures of someone in the FFF to have had this job for so long because he has really fucked it up royally on more than one occasion.

SATURDAY

It started off alright... down the pub... have some pints, so to speak. ManCity himself was center stage prior to me getting there. For some reason or another, he kept insisting I looked like Shawn Wright-Phillips. I think I am buying him a pair from Lenscrafters for Christmas.

A couple of the part-time bistro boys came in and were going to take him over to the Bistro for the Arsenal game. They had plans to meet up with someone there, so I forgave them, this time. I also thought it would be hilarious for ManCity and his usually vocal self to be surrounded by a bunch of Gooners (at least they call themselves that) watching the Arsenal play.

I hope to run into him soon to find out how it all went. He was saying he didn't have any issues with going over there and being himself, as the bistro Gooners are a little soft. Everyone nodded in agreement.

The three headed off about the time HalfArseDean came in. It was good to see him as he had not been around for some time. ChelskiGirl showed up shortly after kick off, followed by MiniMourhino after the half. The crowd in general was a little thin but that is to be expected for late games.

Somehow a conversation was started about opening up a Relegation pub. It would be for those who are in the bottom 4 or Championship. No big teams, only BIG games. It would be a neat idea and give people like Sheffield and our local Geordies a place to watch their matches without jockeying for position against the likes of Scousers and Mancs.

After the game, I somehow found myself at the barnextdoor with ChelskiGirl and Jonfromnextdoor. The rest of the day was a bit blurry after that, with the exception of me getting nachos at Friends and running into a kid I hadn't seen in like 12 years.

SUNDAY

I expected this day to be more fun and excitement than what it was. I popped down to the pub a bit early, as I was bored and there was nothing else better to do. ACMilan was there, so we decided to grab a bite to eat and watch his game in the back section, as someone found the vapid Hull Stoke tie to be more entertaining.

I will admit, I am usually not a big fan of Italian football but it was a fairly interesting match. You had your choice between Milan and Lazio. I would have rather eaten a dog bone but choose to at least show a little support to ACMilan and not the facist. Which brings up the question of how can you tell which team is more facist in Italy? I know there is a joke in there somewhere.

Pasta, Spaghetti, Rigatoni. Don't talk about my mama's Lasagna!
That is ACMilan's joke, not mine, so no one come after me with the concrete shoes.

We sat in the back for the United Chelsea tie. We were joined by various others at various times, some just to say hello and some to stay for a while and join in our random commentary on the state of the match. We were like the two grumpy guys on the muppet show.

It was nice to see one of my original Manc friends there, but he disappeared before the end of the match. He tends to get a little riled up when Mancs or England are losing. One time I had to throw him in the back of my car and take him cross town so he didn't throw any more bottles at anyone. Funny thing is, he's one of the best lads there is out there, genuine and true.

Weird moment of the day:
Some random MancScum, actually I know exactly who he is... had some words with M. He didn't like the way she was singing with the Chelski bunch after the game. He actually threatened physical harm to her. I was standing about 1o feet away, waiting for him to take a step, which never appeared.

I figured most of it was just drunken rambling but he had a lot of balls to say some of the things he did. I think M would have handled herself though, maybe even pulled him down ala Elizabeth Lambert style.



MONDAY

I can not believe not a single Scouser gave me a score update today. I'm lumping you all back together. One big old lump of scouse, some friends you are. And by the way, if you are going to dive, at least - A. make it look good. - B. win the bloody game.

halfasses

~LeChat

SCUM! at Home (and I forgot the Milk Cup tie)

First of all, I want to apologize for missing the mid-week Milk Cup blog. I don't think it would have made much difference anyways. I did think about it. I watched the highlights but last week was trying, to say the least... and I'm sure my Scouse loving friends won't want me to mention too much about it. SO, I present a totally unrelated to anything football or Scouse blog filler video.



HALLOWEEN or the day The Arsenal stomped on the spirit of good ol' 'Arry!

It's not my fault you wanted to manage a shit team, mate. Scum *visibly shaking my head even as I type this.* Fahkin Scum. There is nothing more disgusting than the Scum, well Rooney had a kid but it's really not the kids fault though, is it? Not to mention that Rooney's kid came out of the womb with the Doctor's wallet and house keys.

What? I'm just saying.

The pub was a bit thin, as there was the Halloween tents and things going on the Thames but it was a decent crowd to say the least, for an early game. Gooners were a bit happier after the first 42 minutes but there were no Sp*rs supporters to be found.

I remember an email or something going about, trying to figure out the exact number of supporters that they have. I think we came up with the number 3, really 2 1/2 because the old guy with the beard is only a supporter because he's Jewish and doesn't know much about the game, but he tries.

And yes, before the Sheriff calls me anti-Semitic again for saying YIDS last week, that is why he told me he was a Sp*rs supporter. I can not make these things up. Anyways, where does MancScum get off calling me out on saying Yids...

They are the Yid Army. I didn't make that one up either, they did.
(It is a predominately Jewish area of North London.)
Wiki links.

Anyways, I'm done with the Scum as they take their rightful place below us on the table.

Fast Fact - Sp*rs have not beaten The Arsenal this century. (I know we are only 9 years into it but it's a nice little fact)

I won't mention the Scousers game too much but I do feel a tad bit of sorrow for their lot in life right now. It goes to show there are only 2 things are certain in football, and one of those is still under question.

I ended up arguing with one of the Scousers calling for Benetiz's job. I had to explain that if the players can't play because the manager is in their head, maybe they should find a new vocation. It's obvious something is going on at that club but to say that it's all Benetiz is a fahkin joke.

A few of the regular Scousers, seemed to be backing me up on my stance. I think he understood that not everything coming out of the Journo's pens is word of God because usually it's far off the mark. I may have been a little harsh but it's an argument that I find unfounded and without substance.

We shook hands and gave each other respect. I'm not a total piece of sh!t. I can respect the opinions of others, just that I'm usually right.

The Chelski game was interesting and quite a few of the blue crew showed up. The Gooners had stuck around mostly to harass everyone else and get drunk off the solid drubbing of the Scum.

When Chelski went up, the songs began flying back and forth. 3 - nil to the Arsenal was holding strong against whatever dribble was spewing from the Chelski boys and girls.

Then they got the fourth.

It was fun while it lasted. The songs and jokes continued into the MancScum game. Someone pointed out there were actually no Mancs in the pub. I think a friend of the BigAustrian showed up with some people and she may have been a Manc supporter, probably akin to having pimples I suppose. There's always one, somewhere, even if it's on your ass.

I remember some pictures being taken and a lot more singing and acting up among the regular crew. Pretzels was missed and his name was mentioned quite a few times but I'm sure he was enjoying the revelry from his spot in the terraces.

SUNDAY

Not much to mention. It was chilly and rainy. I didn't go out Halloween night, as I didn't feel like dealing with the randomness of Halloween, plus had fallen asleep around 6PM and woke up around 10PM and was overall lazy.

I had woken up earlier than usual, due to the time change. I headed down to the barnextdoor and enjoyed a good breakfast while talking with Jonfromnextdoor about the festivities of the night before, since he was working the secondfloornextdoor.

ChelskiGirl came along after a bit. Headache in tow, apparently her and A Certain Scouser got into some scotch or something at Birminghams house. Oh excuse me, BirMigHam or was it BirmingWho? Actually that works. The evolution of your blog name is now finished, in real time at that.

After a while, I went up to visit Barca, then came back to find the barnextdoor had become an American Football paradise. I had run into ManCity himself on the way back and decided to pop into the pub for the City/Shitty game. Which was a tad bit of a surprise. I figured it would be a one sided affair, so had not paid much attention to it.

I will say that with a total of maybe 10 people in the pub, that there is no doubt in my mind, that ManCity has a true passion for his club. I mean I knew it before but it's a good scene to see him being the only person screaming, or better yet encouraging his side to put one in and get it over with.

It was also probably the first time I actually sat and watched a game with really just him. Well there was a friend of his that had shown up just before I did and I believe one of the random Gooners that I am not too acquainted with but only by face, was sitting in the corner booth. It was a good random time though.

Sunday Evening
(liberties were taken with the conversation per my artistic license)
*musical ringtone*
me - Hey Milan.
AC - HEY! Man you should be here. OH my God this girl is hot.. she can't be with that dude. (yelling at couple) HEY is that your daughter? She's too hot for you!
me - Where?
AC - South Beach
(yelling at couple) No is that really your girlfriend? What does she... Are you sure?
me - You're so getting your ass kicked.
AC - It's like 80 here, I bet you are freezing your ass off.
me - meh, 50's and you're a dick for calling me from South Beach
AC - huh... oh man I swear that fat ugly guy can't be with that girl.

~Random talk about football and the weekend~

AC - OH you know that picture of me with the Chelski jersey, don't show that to anyone ok. It might ruin my reputation.
ME - Sure thing.

How's the weather in South Beach now?

~LeChat