Relief.
Relief is what I felt at the final whistle. Not relief at qualifying for a competition that we already know Arsenal will not win--how silly would that be?
It was not relief at finishing in fourth place in the league table, which I still assume was the minimum expected achievement before the season started.
It wasn't relief at the money that Arsenal will supposedly gain from surviving the group stage of the "Big Cup" because we already know that Arsenal won't go mad like a lottery winner and spend that money on players that will help the club erase a 16-point gap to the top or win that competition that we've already agreed they won't win anyway. Money's lovely when it cushions one's posterior, isn't it? Oh and it's also not relief at Arsenal NOT getting that same money and then turning out their pockets like a madman in Las Vegas who has suddenly realised he has no means to get home--as in, "Dear lord, we had planned so earnestly to spend that money on practical things like a real goal scoring forward and now we don't have it!" That's comedy right there, my friends. Although, it may have helped Arsenal EXCUSE the not spending of money now that the albatross of Ashburton Grove seems to have been removed from the club's metaphorical neck. Hmm...
No, the relief was quite simple: It was relief at not having to listen to the yapping mouths of the planet's massed ranks of anti-Arsenal idiots who live for the moments of dangling their collective genitalia in our faces as though they've accomplished something. That means all the Sky pundits, all the former players, Stewart Robson, Warren Barton, Chris Waddle, Alan Mullery, Scotland, people I haven't met yet or have ever heard of, and most of all, anyone associated with THFC.
You have no idea what it's like to be devoted to Arsenal. We're the most hated club in the world. I find that to be stupid, because clearly it should be either Manchester United or Leeds United, but instead, it's us. We are the least fashionable, least liked, least respected, least appreciated club on the face of the planet which, as of this writing, is the only place in the universe known to support human life and football. Millwall wishes they were hated as much as Arsenal. Kim Jong Un was offered an Arsenal shirt and said, "Are you fucking kidding me, man? What, you think I want to be hated?" OSAMA BIN LADEN WAS AN ARSENAL SUPPORTER. Enough?
So to go into next season with the ejaculate of every so-called football expert in the known universe coating Lance Link, Secret THFC Footballer and his club, whilst at the same moment having the feces of every one of those same people being hurled, ironically, I'm sure, in chimp-like fashion at Arsenal, would have made football in and of itself too much to bear. I would have buried myself in press association reports and Andrew Mangan's comedy routines and that, I'm afraid, would have been that.
Relief.
I also must say that the way the table stood at the end of the season brought particular joy because of the words of that silly little bearded man in his hilarious little trench coat. You remember that little man, don't you? The little man who, when afforded a 7-point "gap" after a match on 3 March, made certain comments about how being in a "negative spiral" blah blah blah...the actual words aren't really important anymore, it's the IMPLICATION of the words, which seemed to be that Arsenal had fallen and they would not get up because of the dominance of the little man's club and the humiliation Arsenal had just suffered.
Well, you know what, you bearded little trench coat wearing elf, everyone thinks he has the prettiest wife at home. Tomorrow, you'll wake up next to a fat old hag who'll be driving you to Europa League matches next season, so make sure you stuff the schedule for that competition in your wee trench coat along with the bananas you'll certainly be feeding THE GREATEST PLAYER IN THE WORLD.
I think I heard today that a reporter asked the wee bearded man if the "denied obvious penalty" (dear God, is there any other kind with THE GREATEST PLAYER IN THE WORLD involved?) somehow changed the outcome of the matches. Hmm...because, let's see, that would've made Newcastle not give up a goal in the Arsenal match?
You people, all of you, who hate Arsenal so much, are so transparent. It was as if somehow Andre Mariner was conspiring with Arsenal, when in fact two of the match officials who have been proven to hate Arsenal just as much as you do (one of those clowns named Mike, not Riley, right? and PC Webb) were assigned to our last two matches. Really? Somehow, even though THFC won their match anyway, Bobo the Diving Chimp! and his inability to "win" a penalty affected the Arsenal v. Newcastle match.
World, shut your mouth.
I know you won't, because I know it'll be 5,000 days of summer with constant remarks about no trophies and Arsenal should've done better, immediately followed by how can Arsenal do better when other clubs have more money, immediately followed by other contradictory statements about not liking it up us (what is "it" exactly, anyway? A fist? Who other than some kind of moral reprobate likes a fist or anything else "up em?" Do you want something up you?) while saying that Arsenal became boring but also too soft.
(edit: Look at this pointless wind-up merchant's nonsense and tell me what you think: http://www.guardian.co.uk/football/blog/2013/may/19/arsenal-newcastle-arsene-wenger)
All of your blather bores me and makes football less fun than it ought to be, all because you're tiny little petty people who hate Arsenal and you know slating us will sell papers and generate web hits.
But at least we didn't finish fifth.
Relief.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
What was that thing I wanted?
That thing, do you remember that thing? I said I wanted it, and now I don't have it and I can't remember what it was, only that I don't have it now.
Arsenal have won another match. This one was not much to think about, it was more of the same but less so. Much less so, in fact, because the pragmatism was absent. This was a match played under what was perceived to be pressure on both sides, but in fact was played with one side sprinkled in faery dust and one side still unsure just what it is.
Arsenal won this match versus Wigan because Wigan ran out of steam, or maybe Wigan ran out of coal to make the steam, or possibly it was simply that the people shoveling the coal into the engine became so tired that they stopped shoveling at a pace rapid enough to keep the water boiling and the steam stopped being formed and then the whole machine powered by steam just stopped.
Wigan had about an hours worth of steam/coal/effort in them, and after that, it was over. They really did fight well, Mike Dean really did his usual panto (I'm sickened unto death with match officials who think they are given some right to become part of the story), Arsenal may have conceded a silly foul in a dangerous area (according to the magistrate). Then Wigan scored an equalising goal and Arsenal reverted to type.
For the record, I don't subscribe to magical thinking. A professor I admired at university once said "The history machine doesn't have an 'If...' button." So while it's fair to say that something almost happened, the truth is that it did not happen. Wigan did not score the go-ahead goal in the first 15 minutes of the second half, so you can stuff your almosts and nearlys and go on about your business. You can't magically factor in the goal that didn't happen and then go on about Arsenal being lucky or Wigan being unlucky. Watch enough football, and you just eventually learn that shit is ultimately shit, except for Anderson, who somehow has managed to keep his job in Manchester despite being shit.
That was it, really. Wigan didn't score whilst giving maximum effort, then it looked like they grew weary, and then Arsenal scored 3 times in roughly 8 minutes, and it was fare thee well, Wigan. Quite literally, as then discussions almost immediately turned to relegation, money, money, money, and money. You won the FA Cup, Wigan, you put the whores of Eastlands to the sword, you helped the oil moneymen find a reason to send silly scarf man packing, but the reality is, you're pathetic and that doesn't matter.
I'll be excused from that conversation because I think Wigan can be proud of what they accomplished, and can be proud of not pissing away the chance to have a glorious day out at Wembley and for giving their supporters a wonderful memory. Relegation doesn't have to be a death sentence--unfortunately you only need look as far as the Humber to see that. Well played, Wigan. One word of advice to whomever ends up managing Wigan should they gain promotion soon--you might want to try surrendering fewer goals next time around. Cheers, that advice was completely free!
So that is why I am not one of those people (you know, THOSE people) who are tonight saying "Alas, poor Wigan, such stylish and properly played football, and poor Bobby MAH-tinez, what a good bloke, did you hear he's a good bloke?" Hold the mirror up to Wigan and you see an absolutely wretched defence that has allowed 71 goals in 37 matches. 71 goals, sweet perforated bollox of San Sebastian that is really ridiculously horrible, just so profligate that can you really pity them?
At some point a football club becomes like a person and must make a choice between artful death and pragmatic survival. Wigan and Arsenal could be cousins if one takes that kind of choice into account. Arsenal chose pragmatic survival to avoid being relegated from the top four which is a league unto itself. Wigan chose glory--the wonderful Cup glory--and openness and an attempt at something more than the banality of pragmatism and paid for that choice with relegation.
What is better? To drive the machine to its maximum until it explodes, extracting every moment of performance and excitement from it no matter the end, or to drive it practically, so that it survives and survives and survives? Is it better to be Leeds United in the early 2000s or Stoke City now? (Trick question, obviously it is better to be a blind deaf mute than be either one.) Of the three sides relegated this season, only Wigan were attempting something that really exists for its own sake--giving something to the supporters that they could savour for years. I will not pity them. But neither will I praise them. It was a fair result.
Arsenal, however, live to fight another day. Arsenal have chosen survival over artistry when relegation seemed not only possible but rather likely. How strange that a man born of a fusion of French and German philosophies would exhibit such an English characteristic. At the moment that it all seemed hopeless, Arsene Wenger instructed his side to simply dig in, keep your head down and soldier on. Wigan have now paid for their reach. Arsenal may well be paid for their pragmatism. Who would have thought such a fanciful thing were even possible?
Arsenal have won another match. This one was not much to think about, it was more of the same but less so. Much less so, in fact, because the pragmatism was absent. This was a match played under what was perceived to be pressure on both sides, but in fact was played with one side sprinkled in faery dust and one side still unsure just what it is.
Arsenal won this match versus Wigan because Wigan ran out of steam, or maybe Wigan ran out of coal to make the steam, or possibly it was simply that the people shoveling the coal into the engine became so tired that they stopped shoveling at a pace rapid enough to keep the water boiling and the steam stopped being formed and then the whole machine powered by steam just stopped.
Wigan had about an hours worth of steam/coal/effort in them, and after that, it was over. They really did fight well, Mike Dean really did his usual panto (I'm sickened unto death with match officials who think they are given some right to become part of the story), Arsenal may have conceded a silly foul in a dangerous area (according to the magistrate). Then Wigan scored an equalising goal and Arsenal reverted to type.
For the record, I don't subscribe to magical thinking. A professor I admired at university once said "The history machine doesn't have an 'If...' button." So while it's fair to say that something almost happened, the truth is that it did not happen. Wigan did not score the go-ahead goal in the first 15 minutes of the second half, so you can stuff your almosts and nearlys and go on about your business. You can't magically factor in the goal that didn't happen and then go on about Arsenal being lucky or Wigan being unlucky. Watch enough football, and you just eventually learn that shit is ultimately shit, except for Anderson, who somehow has managed to keep his job in Manchester despite being shit.
That was it, really. Wigan didn't score whilst giving maximum effort, then it looked like they grew weary, and then Arsenal scored 3 times in roughly 8 minutes, and it was fare thee well, Wigan. Quite literally, as then discussions almost immediately turned to relegation, money, money, money, and money. You won the FA Cup, Wigan, you put the whores of Eastlands to the sword, you helped the oil moneymen find a reason to send silly scarf man packing, but the reality is, you're pathetic and that doesn't matter.
I'll be excused from that conversation because I think Wigan can be proud of what they accomplished, and can be proud of not pissing away the chance to have a glorious day out at Wembley and for giving their supporters a wonderful memory. Relegation doesn't have to be a death sentence--unfortunately you only need look as far as the Humber to see that. Well played, Wigan. One word of advice to whomever ends up managing Wigan should they gain promotion soon--you might want to try surrendering fewer goals next time around. Cheers, that advice was completely free!
So that is why I am not one of those people (you know, THOSE people) who are tonight saying "Alas, poor Wigan, such stylish and properly played football, and poor Bobby MAH-tinez, what a good bloke, did you hear he's a good bloke?" Hold the mirror up to Wigan and you see an absolutely wretched defence that has allowed 71 goals in 37 matches. 71 goals, sweet perforated bollox of San Sebastian that is really ridiculously horrible, just so profligate that can you really pity them?
At some point a football club becomes like a person and must make a choice between artful death and pragmatic survival. Wigan and Arsenal could be cousins if one takes that kind of choice into account. Arsenal chose pragmatic survival to avoid being relegated from the top four which is a league unto itself. Wigan chose glory--the wonderful Cup glory--and openness and an attempt at something more than the banality of pragmatism and paid for that choice with relegation.
What is better? To drive the machine to its maximum until it explodes, extracting every moment of performance and excitement from it no matter the end, or to drive it practically, so that it survives and survives and survives? Is it better to be Leeds United in the early 2000s or Stoke City now? (Trick question, obviously it is better to be a blind deaf mute than be either one.) Of the three sides relegated this season, only Wigan were attempting something that really exists for its own sake--giving something to the supporters that they could savour for years. I will not pity them. But neither will I praise them. It was a fair result.
Arsenal, however, live to fight another day. Arsenal have chosen survival over artistry when relegation seemed not only possible but rather likely. How strange that a man born of a fusion of French and German philosophies would exhibit such an English characteristic. At the moment that it all seemed hopeless, Arsene Wenger instructed his side to simply dig in, keep your head down and soldier on. Wigan have now paid for their reach. Arsenal may well be paid for their pragmatism. Who would have thought such a fanciful thing were even possible?
Sunday, May 05, 2013
"Please sir, could I have some more?"
When you're starving, even gruel satisfies the craving and does so to the extent that you will ask for another helping. Eat the weevils, they're rich in protein! And dysentery is a smashing weight-loss programme, so dig right in.
This is what Arsenal are serving up in an end-of-season slog toward whatever fate awaits them: A runny, watery, gruel that is doing just enough to sustain the hopes of supporters and the squad's own desire to play in the big cup next season.
And yet...and yet the form table says "Hang on a minute--this is quite different than last season's trip-stumble-fall across the finish line." Instead of defeating our wee sisters from up the road, launching a brilliant run, then repeatedly punching themselves in the face until the final day of the season, this year's model has used a loss to that lot as a cold splash of water to bring back some missing vitality.
It's a complete reversal, but the result is still the same. It will come down to the final day of the season, and an away match against a side that may or may not offer up the comical defending that has come to reflect its manager's silly personality.
Waking up in the middle of a long winter, one of those mornings where your bones are so cold that your body rightly aches from being clenched up all night, you saw that Arsenal had taken just five points from five January matches. After an unbeaten December that had supposedly righted the ship's course, the season had seemed to have completely crumbled. Rage and resignation battled for control of the Arsenal supporter's mind. An acceptance of fate seemed reasonable to me as I had so little energy left for rage anymore.
Two seasons in a row I've gone ahead and made peace with the idea that Arsenal would neither finish ahead of the Chickenballs nor qualify for the qualifying for the Champions League proper. That's not a load of fun when those things have seemed to be a given, even as challenging for the league has become a fading memory. But then Arsenal began to do what Arsenal are wont to do and the form table cannot lie: The Gunners have earned 29 points since the beginning of February, and dropped only 7.
What the hammer, what the change? "Why so pragmatic, Arsene?" Suddenly, and I mean literally from one match to the next, Arsenal went from being free-wheeling, devil-take-defence chokers to stuck in, grinding gears hard men content to win in the manner of George Graham's most turgid sides. Comic concession was replaced by 8-man walls of resistance. The captain--the man doing mock acrobatic routines and giving giving away free kicks like they were lollies at the doctor's office--was benched. One Pole was sacrificed for another that was long-since forgotten.
I looked at Wenger and said, "Who are you? What have they done with the real Arsene? SOYLENT GREEN IS PEOPLE! POSSIBLY EVEN MADE UP OF THE REMAINS OF ALEXANDER HLEB!" Benching players for crap performances? A steely resolve? Winning ugly?
The world has gone mad. Camus and Sartre have become chorus boys.
After the draw with United, I was "over it." I was bored with the classic Arsene feint, thrust, and parry. I was bent out of shape over Sagna's moment of madness. I was saddened that losing a player like Giroud could actually have a negative impact on a side. United had clearly fallen arse over tit after winning the league and yet the Gunners could do little to trouble them. "Meh," I said, with full shoulder-shrug included.
So...why did the 1-0 over QPR leave me both full and satisfied? Content, even? It's because of the result. The result is all that matters. The result is god. Worship the result. I would rather that result than another result. That was better than a 6-0 thrashing.
Why?
Because this squad is no longer deserving of handing out 6-0 thrashings. Sorry, I hate to say it (no, I don't) but that would only be papering over the cracks in a house that needs much restoration. A hiding given to QPR would hurt more than help. It would distract this bunch. It would have Theodore asking for more wages. It would serve to inflate an opinion of a side that deserves nothing more than a bitter, give it all and then give it more struggle to achieve anything resembling a reward.
That's the sort of effort that, if this team had approached every match with that mindset this season, would have the team at worst in second place at the moment. You don't need to get to February to discover the true nature of your side. You ought to know exactly what you have after you win 5 matches from your first 14.
A one-nil win over a relegated side full of overpaid mercenaries who are stepping out the door already is EXACTLY what this Arsenal team OUGHT to be doing every week. I don't need to channel basketball genius Rick Pitino to tell you that Bob Pires isn't walkin' through that door. You already know it. You know what this team is compared to its rivals.
1-0 over QPR was extremely satisfying. I'm not in the mood for beauty, for a fleeting glimpse of "what this team could be." This team can't be anything more than what it is: Gallic flair sacrificed for Teutonic pragmatism. The two players who have come to symbolise this "new old" Arsenal? Ha ha, it's Aaron Ramsey and Per Mertesacker. It's the all-energy running and effort of the Welshman and the rather dour, "it's Pear not Pair" German that have served as the example for the others. In Ramsey they see an unwillingness to give less than the maximum, and in BFG they have organisation, calm, a sense of purpose and devotion to the grubby work of defending. Neither player brings artistry to the match in his kit bag.
Arsene's earlier Arsenal sides featured a balance between the pretty and the ugly, between attack and defence, between goals scored and goals not conceded. I think this is what most bloggers are talking about these days when they say this version is unbalanced. It could never be both. Not this lot. Rebalancing the side is what lies ahead in the summer--either that, or a willingness to admit that next season, the entire season, will need to look a lot more like the 1-0 over QPR Arsenal than any of us would like to see. Boring, boring? One-nil to the...
This is what Arsenal are serving up in an end-of-season slog toward whatever fate awaits them: A runny, watery, gruel that is doing just enough to sustain the hopes of supporters and the squad's own desire to play in the big cup next season.
And yet...and yet the form table says "Hang on a minute--this is quite different than last season's trip-stumble-fall across the finish line." Instead of defeating our wee sisters from up the road, launching a brilliant run, then repeatedly punching themselves in the face until the final day of the season, this year's model has used a loss to that lot as a cold splash of water to bring back some missing vitality.
It's a complete reversal, but the result is still the same. It will come down to the final day of the season, and an away match against a side that may or may not offer up the comical defending that has come to reflect its manager's silly personality.
Waking up in the middle of a long winter, one of those mornings where your bones are so cold that your body rightly aches from being clenched up all night, you saw that Arsenal had taken just five points from five January matches. After an unbeaten December that had supposedly righted the ship's course, the season had seemed to have completely crumbled. Rage and resignation battled for control of the Arsenal supporter's mind. An acceptance of fate seemed reasonable to me as I had so little energy left for rage anymore.
Two seasons in a row I've gone ahead and made peace with the idea that Arsenal would neither finish ahead of the Chickenballs nor qualify for the qualifying for the Champions League proper. That's not a load of fun when those things have seemed to be a given, even as challenging for the league has become a fading memory. But then Arsenal began to do what Arsenal are wont to do and the form table cannot lie: The Gunners have earned 29 points since the beginning of February, and dropped only 7.
What the hammer, what the change? "Why so pragmatic, Arsene?" Suddenly, and I mean literally from one match to the next, Arsenal went from being free-wheeling, devil-take-defence chokers to stuck in, grinding gears hard men content to win in the manner of George Graham's most turgid sides. Comic concession was replaced by 8-man walls of resistance. The captain--the man doing mock acrobatic routines and giving giving away free kicks like they were lollies at the doctor's office--was benched. One Pole was sacrificed for another that was long-since forgotten.
I looked at Wenger and said, "Who are you? What have they done with the real Arsene? SOYLENT GREEN IS PEOPLE! POSSIBLY EVEN MADE UP OF THE REMAINS OF ALEXANDER HLEB!" Benching players for crap performances? A steely resolve? Winning ugly?
The world has gone mad. Camus and Sartre have become chorus boys.
After the draw with United, I was "over it." I was bored with the classic Arsene feint, thrust, and parry. I was bent out of shape over Sagna's moment of madness. I was saddened that losing a player like Giroud could actually have a negative impact on a side. United had clearly fallen arse over tit after winning the league and yet the Gunners could do little to trouble them. "Meh," I said, with full shoulder-shrug included.
So...why did the 1-0 over QPR leave me both full and satisfied? Content, even? It's because of the result. The result is all that matters. The result is god. Worship the result. I would rather that result than another result. That was better than a 6-0 thrashing.
Why?
Because this squad is no longer deserving of handing out 6-0 thrashings. Sorry, I hate to say it (no, I don't) but that would only be papering over the cracks in a house that needs much restoration. A hiding given to QPR would hurt more than help. It would distract this bunch. It would have Theodore asking for more wages. It would serve to inflate an opinion of a side that deserves nothing more than a bitter, give it all and then give it more struggle to achieve anything resembling a reward.
That's the sort of effort that, if this team had approached every match with that mindset this season, would have the team at worst in second place at the moment. You don't need to get to February to discover the true nature of your side. You ought to know exactly what you have after you win 5 matches from your first 14.
A one-nil win over a relegated side full of overpaid mercenaries who are stepping out the door already is EXACTLY what this Arsenal team OUGHT to be doing every week. I don't need to channel basketball genius Rick Pitino to tell you that Bob Pires isn't walkin' through that door. You already know it. You know what this team is compared to its rivals.
1-0 over QPR was extremely satisfying. I'm not in the mood for beauty, for a fleeting glimpse of "what this team could be." This team can't be anything more than what it is: Gallic flair sacrificed for Teutonic pragmatism. The two players who have come to symbolise this "new old" Arsenal? Ha ha, it's Aaron Ramsey and Per Mertesacker. It's the all-energy running and effort of the Welshman and the rather dour, "it's Pear not Pair" German that have served as the example for the others. In Ramsey they see an unwillingness to give less than the maximum, and in BFG they have organisation, calm, a sense of purpose and devotion to the grubby work of defending. Neither player brings artistry to the match in his kit bag.
Arsene's earlier Arsenal sides featured a balance between the pretty and the ugly, between attack and defence, between goals scored and goals not conceded. I think this is what most bloggers are talking about these days when they say this version is unbalanced. It could never be both. Not this lot. Rebalancing the side is what lies ahead in the summer--either that, or a willingness to admit that next season, the entire season, will need to look a lot more like the 1-0 over QPR Arsenal than any of us would like to see. Boring, boring? One-nil to the...
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Pride in one's moral superiority is still a sin
I've come a long way, I have. I'm a bit cynical now.
Every time I hear the same old lines, the ones about "super, super quality" or mentions of "spirit" or "character," I just shrug. When I think about the remarks that we can't bring in new players because they will impede the development of the players already on the books, I might simply groan a little and move on.
You can't find a player in January.
We will only bring in top players.
I did not see it.
Disappointed love.
What is the most deserving target of my ire on any given day? I don't know. Many times it's the blatant anti-American sentiment from the gaffer. You recall, he'd rather tour Vietnam (annual average per capita income $300 US) than the United States. The United States, home of MUFC's new shirt sponsor, Chevrolet. Home to the National Broadcasting Company, which will be the first American network to televise every single Premier League match live next season. Home to over 300,000,000 people. That means if 90% of Americans ignore English football, more than 30 million of them will be watching.
But no, please, why bother with that market when you can tour Malaysia and Vietnam?
Perhaps Ryo Miachi will sell more Arsenal shirts than Kagawa does for United. Of course. Why not? Kagawa has won 3 consecutive championship medals, whilst Ryo was last seen being carted off in some Cup match for another club. So by all means, focus on ANY market but the United States. Every other "big club" in England comes to the USA, especially those that have, and make, more money than ours. Just keep touring Myanmar and Bangladesh--you'll spin money out of monkeys, don't worry.
Ah but see, I'm not angry about that topic every day. Some days it's the flaccid transfer policy. I mean, if we're lucky, the club might spend upwards of 18 million quid this summer! On some French teenagers! Or maybe we'll find a club like Malaga on the verge of bankruptcy who want to sell us two Spanish internationals--2nd rate Spanish internationals, mind, but still, if they're Spanish, they must be good!
Yet it's not just anger about the amount being spent, it's also the unwillingness to buy players who might, in some egalitarian fantasy world, impede the development of players already on the books who've yet to do fuck all but might, just might, if no better players are brought in to compete with them! But somehow, even though the reasoning is "don't buy players who will stunt the growth of other players," those mythical "other players" never play first team football! Eisfeld, Aneke, Yennaris, Gnabry, Spanish teen, German teen, French teen, African teen, some other bloke, a kid on loan to some Spanish Tercera club--do they ever play first team football for us? No. They don't. So how, exactly, does buying a player with more experience and demonstrated ability hurt those players? Help me out here, I seem to be lost. Soy perdido, ayudame.
This is all nonsensical stuff that happens off the pitch. I don't really feel qualified to comment on the on-pitch stuff because I'm no tactician. I do think I know barely enough to say, "Hang on a minute--seems that high-line business isn't all that helpful" after we keep surrendering counter-attack upon counter-attack. Or maybe, when I see 90% possession = 1 goal (from a set piece), I can speculate on the effectiveness of the plan of "attack." Does the 4-3-3 even work anymore? What is it? Do we have the personnel to play it with anything resembling effectiveness?
And why does it take until late February to decide to build from a foundation of stability from the back? I hear some sort of circus calliope playing in the background and I see Tommy V attempting some sort of gymnastical trick to the amusement of the audience when I think of the defence. Every other club in the league (many from the lower divisions, if our Cup form is to be believed) saw us as soft and vulnerable. That's as embarrassing as anything else you can say about us.
I might have more unhappiness to impart. But for now, that's where I find myself. As for the two biggest matches of the post-NLD period, has anyone else noticed that the opponent in both was under little or no pressure at all to "go for it?" Bayern did fuck all in the second leg, and MUFC was only slightly better than that. Big matches against big clubs--with no real skin in the game for the opposition.
Go back and look at November and January for our beloved club. When it was clear they were wobbling, wouldn't the "new" pragmatic approach have saved us points? Wouldn't a more solid, organised, and less adventurous style already have us in the glorified 3rd place? The way those games were played now seems astonishingly naive. Pretty football is a grand idea. I'd sing "1-Nil to the..." even if the match were "boring, boring."
Every time I hear the same old lines, the ones about "super, super quality" or mentions of "spirit" or "character," I just shrug. When I think about the remarks that we can't bring in new players because they will impede the development of the players already on the books, I might simply groan a little and move on.
You can't find a player in January.
We will only bring in top players.
I did not see it.
Disappointed love.
What is the most deserving target of my ire on any given day? I don't know. Many times it's the blatant anti-American sentiment from the gaffer. You recall, he'd rather tour Vietnam (annual average per capita income $300 US) than the United States. The United States, home of MUFC's new shirt sponsor, Chevrolet. Home to the National Broadcasting Company, which will be the first American network to televise every single Premier League match live next season. Home to over 300,000,000 people. That means if 90% of Americans ignore English football, more than 30 million of them will be watching.
But no, please, why bother with that market when you can tour Malaysia and Vietnam?
Perhaps Ryo Miachi will sell more Arsenal shirts than Kagawa does for United. Of course. Why not? Kagawa has won 3 consecutive championship medals, whilst Ryo was last seen being carted off in some Cup match for another club. So by all means, focus on ANY market but the United States. Every other "big club" in England comes to the USA, especially those that have, and make, more money than ours. Just keep touring Myanmar and Bangladesh--you'll spin money out of monkeys, don't worry.
Ah but see, I'm not angry about that topic every day. Some days it's the flaccid transfer policy. I mean, if we're lucky, the club might spend upwards of 18 million quid this summer! On some French teenagers! Or maybe we'll find a club like Malaga on the verge of bankruptcy who want to sell us two Spanish internationals--2nd rate Spanish internationals, mind, but still, if they're Spanish, they must be good!
Yet it's not just anger about the amount being spent, it's also the unwillingness to buy players who might, in some egalitarian fantasy world, impede the development of players already on the books who've yet to do fuck all but might, just might, if no better players are brought in to compete with them! But somehow, even though the reasoning is "don't buy players who will stunt the growth of other players," those mythical "other players" never play first team football! Eisfeld, Aneke, Yennaris, Gnabry, Spanish teen, German teen, French teen, African teen, some other bloke, a kid on loan to some Spanish Tercera club--do they ever play first team football for us? No. They don't. So how, exactly, does buying a player with more experience and demonstrated ability hurt those players? Help me out here, I seem to be lost. Soy perdido, ayudame.
This is all nonsensical stuff that happens off the pitch. I don't really feel qualified to comment on the on-pitch stuff because I'm no tactician. I do think I know barely enough to say, "Hang on a minute--seems that high-line business isn't all that helpful" after we keep surrendering counter-attack upon counter-attack. Or maybe, when I see 90% possession = 1 goal (from a set piece), I can speculate on the effectiveness of the plan of "attack." Does the 4-3-3 even work anymore? What is it? Do we have the personnel to play it with anything resembling effectiveness?
And why does it take until late February to decide to build from a foundation of stability from the back? I hear some sort of circus calliope playing in the background and I see Tommy V attempting some sort of gymnastical trick to the amusement of the audience when I think of the defence. Every other club in the league (many from the lower divisions, if our Cup form is to be believed) saw us as soft and vulnerable. That's as embarrassing as anything else you can say about us.
I might have more unhappiness to impart. But for now, that's where I find myself. As for the two biggest matches of the post-NLD period, has anyone else noticed that the opponent in both was under little or no pressure at all to "go for it?" Bayern did fuck all in the second leg, and MUFC was only slightly better than that. Big matches against big clubs--with no real skin in the game for the opposition.
Go back and look at November and January for our beloved club. When it was clear they were wobbling, wouldn't the "new" pragmatic approach have saved us points? Wouldn't a more solid, organised, and less adventurous style already have us in the glorified 3rd place? The way those games were played now seems astonishingly naive. Pretty football is a grand idea. I'd sing "1-Nil to the..." even if the match were "boring, boring."
Sunday, September 16, 2012
We are the Arsenal
Yesterday, as Theo Walcott scored a goal with his left foot (which will never be better than his right one), he made a choice to simply turn and walk away from the scene. No celebration. It was his first goal of the season and he's been a bit on the outs so far. I thought that a bit odd but then again I can never quite tell what the young man is thinking so that's all well enough.
But then after the match, I saw it--Theo and the Ox made a point to go salute the visiting support, the supporters who had saluted them in their younger days.
Two young players who had grown up at the Southampton Academy took the time to go thank their old fans, to say "We remember you."
That is the Arsenal way, my friends. That is why we are the greatest club on earth and always will be.
People hate us because of the way we conduct ourselves. They make sport of "the marble halls" and all that. I understand. But that is who we are, and that is why we are who we are. We are the Arsenal. Victoria Concordia Crescit.
It is why we do not tap up players. It is why we conduct our business privately until it is done. It is why we are respectful. There is a word that people use to describe the Spuds that I've never used and will never use, and I know that all my friends do not use. I know some people do use that word, but I do not know any person among my circle of friends who use it.
It is why, when Birmingham City defeated us in the Carling Cup, at my pub in New Orleans, our supporters, every one of them, took note of an old geezer in a City shirt who broke down in tears and said, "I've never seen my club win a trophy, ever!" and congratulated him and bought him pints and patted him on the back. It's because we are the Arsenal, and that is the Arsenal way.
It is why, in the "Up for grabs now" match, the Arsenal players all brought out flowers and presented them to the Liverpool fans before the match. I was reminded of this because of the Hillsborough report--thinking about that match, why it happened when it did, and how our players, our club, conducted themselves. It is because we are the Arsenal, and that is the Arsenal way.
I love this club more than anything in the world and much of the reason is because Arsenal are a different club. Compare the way we, and our players, and our management conduct ourselves to cretins like John Terry or Luis Suarez or the nonsense from Kenny Dalglish last season, or the behaviour of Mark Hughes or Alan Pardew.
We are the Arsenal, and this is the Arsenal way. And those of you who don't like it--well, I pity you. Perhaps someday you'll learn the meaning of the word "class."
But then after the match, I saw it--Theo and the Ox made a point to go salute the visiting support, the supporters who had saluted them in their younger days.
Two young players who had grown up at the Southampton Academy took the time to go thank their old fans, to say "We remember you."
That is the Arsenal way, my friends. That is why we are the greatest club on earth and always will be.
People hate us because of the way we conduct ourselves. They make sport of "the marble halls" and all that. I understand. But that is who we are, and that is why we are who we are. We are the Arsenal. Victoria Concordia Crescit.
It is why we do not tap up players. It is why we conduct our business privately until it is done. It is why we are respectful. There is a word that people use to describe the Spuds that I've never used and will never use, and I know that all my friends do not use. I know some people do use that word, but I do not know any person among my circle of friends who use it.
It is why, when Birmingham City defeated us in the Carling Cup, at my pub in New Orleans, our supporters, every one of them, took note of an old geezer in a City shirt who broke down in tears and said, "I've never seen my club win a trophy, ever!" and congratulated him and bought him pints and patted him on the back. It's because we are the Arsenal, and that is the Arsenal way.
It is why, in the "Up for grabs now" match, the Arsenal players all brought out flowers and presented them to the Liverpool fans before the match. I was reminded of this because of the Hillsborough report--thinking about that match, why it happened when it did, and how our players, our club, conducted themselves. It is because we are the Arsenal, and that is the Arsenal way.
I love this club more than anything in the world and much of the reason is because Arsenal are a different club. Compare the way we, and our players, and our management conduct ourselves to cretins like John Terry or Luis Suarez or the nonsense from Kenny Dalglish last season, or the behaviour of Mark Hughes or Alan Pardew.
We are the Arsenal, and this is the Arsenal way. And those of you who don't like it--well, I pity you. Perhaps someday you'll learn the meaning of the word "class."
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Can we be honest?
Here is a lovely quote from 1978's "Heaven Can Wait." Thought you might like it.
"Look I'm sorry to bother you so late, but I don't love you, and you don't love me, so let's get a divorce, alright?"
That's yer man Warren Beatty talking to the lovely and unfaithful (and somewhat murderous) Dyan Cannon.
She was at the peak of her powers then--a physically perfect specimen who, while not the youngest piece of arse on the block, was definitely one that you could see a wealthy bloke splashing his cash on because, let's face it, if you could have that riding John Thomas you would probably be willing to put up with most of her less-than-obvious flaws.
But ol' Warren, at the moment still a rich n' handsome type himself, though not quite the strapping buck he was in his "Splendour in the Grass" days, wanted something else. He wanted Julie Christie, our dove from Dr. Zhivago.
Now, I love Julie Christie. I always have, and I always will. When she's walking away in the snow in Zhivago I think she's one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. But let me be honest, as lovely as she is, she's no Dyan Cannon--not at that point. She looks pretty, she has a lovely voice, but if you're a rich bloke looking for a rumble in the hay she's just a skinny bint.
So why does ol' Warren decide to deliver that ultimatum to Dyan? Why would he cut himself off from the top totty to be with the somewhat less than exciting yet still lovely Julie?
Granted, this is just a film and not real life so it might've been highly unlikely that a real "Farnsworth" would've thrown over his lovely and unfaithful (and murderous) spouse for the pleasingly pleasant Julie Christie. But let's assume for a moment there's something metaphorical going on here.
I think that he just gets sick of the much more lovely yet much more unfaithful Dyan. Sick of it. Lies, deception, pretense--at some point, he just gets sick of the whole thing.
"I don't love you, and you don't love me, so let's get a divorce." THAT'S HONEST.
That is what the Arsenal Football Club did with Robin van Persie.
I hate, hate, hate that he went where he went. But he did it. HE did it. We didn't do it. We didn't send him there--you might think so, but you're wrong.
I have to be honest, I actually love this move. It's very mafia. It's very Goodfellas. It's a move that says "You're dead to me." He certainly may win some tin with the Rags, but he's dead to our family. And we took them for a load of cash that in hindsight looks hilarious. I would've swapped him for Berbatov and I am not joking about that. Yes, you know how people say things like that after the fact, but I wouldn't call it retrospective dislike.
Nobody goes against the family. And it's not personal--it's business.
I distinctly remember Sky interviewing Patty Vieira "back in the day" and they asked him, could he see himself playing for MUFC. "Well, NO, of course not!" he said. (Obviously he didn't rule out the petroBlues.) They asked him why, and his case (as I remember it) was simply that playing for that lot was untenable, and more than anything, playing for Ol' Red Nose was not an option. NOT AN OPTION,
PV4 was our captain, and yes, he was almost always one foot out the door. But at the very least, he didn't disgrace the shirt like this. He was a made guy. I don't like what he's doing now but I have to believe that if we had offered him something before they did, he'd be on our side. Well, we didn't, and he isn't, so what?
I have nothing to say about Robin. He's a dick, and I hope he enjoys himself.
"Look I'm sorry to bother you so late, but I don't love you, and you don't love me, so let's get a divorce, alright?"
That's yer man Warren Beatty talking to the lovely and unfaithful (and somewhat murderous) Dyan Cannon.
She was at the peak of her powers then--a physically perfect specimen who, while not the youngest piece of arse on the block, was definitely one that you could see a wealthy bloke splashing his cash on because, let's face it, if you could have that riding John Thomas you would probably be willing to put up with most of her less-than-obvious flaws.
But ol' Warren, at the moment still a rich n' handsome type himself, though not quite the strapping buck he was in his "Splendour in the Grass" days, wanted something else. He wanted Julie Christie, our dove from Dr. Zhivago.
Now, I love Julie Christie. I always have, and I always will. When she's walking away in the snow in Zhivago I think she's one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. But let me be honest, as lovely as she is, she's no Dyan Cannon--not at that point. She looks pretty, she has a lovely voice, but if you're a rich bloke looking for a rumble in the hay she's just a skinny bint.
So why does ol' Warren decide to deliver that ultimatum to Dyan? Why would he cut himself off from the top totty to be with the somewhat less than exciting yet still lovely Julie?
Granted, this is just a film and not real life so it might've been highly unlikely that a real "Farnsworth" would've thrown over his lovely and unfaithful (and murderous) spouse for the pleasingly pleasant Julie Christie. But let's assume for a moment there's something metaphorical going on here.
I think that he just gets sick of the much more lovely yet much more unfaithful Dyan. Sick of it. Lies, deception, pretense--at some point, he just gets sick of the whole thing.
"I don't love you, and you don't love me, so let's get a divorce." THAT'S HONEST.
That is what the Arsenal Football Club did with Robin van Persie.
I hate, hate, hate that he went where he went. But he did it. HE did it. We didn't do it. We didn't send him there--you might think so, but you're wrong.
I have to be honest, I actually love this move. It's very mafia. It's very Goodfellas. It's a move that says "You're dead to me." He certainly may win some tin with the Rags, but he's dead to our family. And we took them for a load of cash that in hindsight looks hilarious. I would've swapped him for Berbatov and I am not joking about that. Yes, you know how people say things like that after the fact, but I wouldn't call it retrospective dislike.
Nobody goes against the family. And it's not personal--it's business.
I distinctly remember Sky interviewing Patty Vieira "back in the day" and they asked him, could he see himself playing for MUFC. "Well, NO, of course not!" he said. (Obviously he didn't rule out the petroBlues.) They asked him why, and his case (as I remember it) was simply that playing for that lot was untenable, and more than anything, playing for Ol' Red Nose was not an option. NOT AN OPTION,
PV4 was our captain, and yes, he was almost always one foot out the door. But at the very least, he didn't disgrace the shirt like this. He was a made guy. I don't like what he's doing now but I have to believe that if we had offered him something before they did, he'd be on our side. Well, we didn't, and he isn't, so what?
I have nothing to say about Robin. He's a dick, and I hope he enjoys himself.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
The Brute Squad
Perhaps the most telling thing about the state of the current Arsenal team for me is that I no longer bellow and curse when they concede cheap goals. They’ve done it so often for such a long period of time that I am resigned to it now and I feel no surprise. I’m also no longer surprised when a so-called inferior side show more fight and determination than Arsenal do. I can’t get angry and I can’t marvel at it—it has become the new normal.
And that, above all else, is what must change if Arsenal are ever again to win a trophy.
The analysis of how this has come to be is being done to death everywhere. I can see with my eyes the things that happen—the loss of possession, the cheap fouls, the seeming inability to stay with one’s man when marking on a set piece—but I can’t offer any more information as to why they happen. I can only wonder.
I wonder if there is real pride in the squad.
I wonder if there is real toughness—both physical and mental.
I wonder if the tactics are appropriate.
I wonder if there has ever been another club that will endure such agony over a top-three finish, a cup final, and a decent showing in the Champions League.
The agony, the anguish, that surrounds this club is taking away from what should be a fun diversion from the real world. Each of us has to wake each day and experience the reality of our lives. Football ought to give us something beyond ourselves to get us stirred up and passionate about something.
So it comes to the questions that have seemingly polarised Arsenal supporters: Would dismissing Arsene Wenger change the club for the better? Would dismissing Arsene Wenger push the club from third to first? Would dismissing Arsene Wenger be a long-term improvement?
My answer to these questions—for now—remains no. I can’t say that a managerial change for its own sake will improve Arsenal’s standing in the Premier League table, win the European Cup, or simply make the squad more combative. I also can’t endorse changing the manager without already having a proven leader with a track record of success lined up to succeed Arsenal’s most decorated manager of the modern era.
This is really the crux of the argument for or against changing the manager: Who is available, and who wants to come to Arsenal? If we really see Arsenal as one of the biggest clubs in the world, do we want to also see Arsenal have a merry-go-round managerial situation like those other clubs? Outside of Arsenal and Manchester United, no other so-called big club has had anything resembling managerial stability. We see Barca, Real Madrid, AC Milan, Inter, and Bayern as our equals, and none of them holds on to a manager for very long. I’m also not sure how many of them are attempting to operate as a self-sustaining financial entity, either. That’s a factor that always drags me back from the precipice of calling for Wenger’s head on the block.
I posed the question on twitter recently—who is available who would replace Arsene Wenger? It wasn’t done facetiously. I sincerely would like to know who we think would be our “next” manager if we part ways with the current one. I’m not saying that it would be a mistake for the club to dismiss him out of hand. When he was hired, I had no idea who he was, so it’s certainly possible that a potential successor of similar anonymity is out there right now. Thinking about how he became Arsenal manager—the behind the scenes discussions with David Dein and the influence of Houllier—makes one wonder how it might happen again.
Managing a club like Arsenal is no simple task, either. There’s no unlimited transfer or wage budget to work from, and there are also tactics and player development to consider.
We are burning white-hot with many negative emotions right now, and we have been since the Carling Cup final. Emotion always trumps truth. For me, the truth is:
Arsenal were “eliminated” from the title race after 36 matches.
Who is the manager out there who would come to Arsenal who will change that for the better? And clearly, “for the better” means winning the whole bloody thing, not lasting one more week before being eliminated from the race.
So here is my latest: A completely equivocal, uncommitted missive that asks the question “If you really want Arsene Wenger out, who do you want to replace him?”
And that, above all else, is what must change if Arsenal are ever again to win a trophy.
The analysis of how this has come to be is being done to death everywhere. I can see with my eyes the things that happen—the loss of possession, the cheap fouls, the seeming inability to stay with one’s man when marking on a set piece—but I can’t offer any more information as to why they happen. I can only wonder.
I wonder if there is real pride in the squad.
I wonder if there is real toughness—both physical and mental.
I wonder if the tactics are appropriate.
I wonder if there has ever been another club that will endure such agony over a top-three finish, a cup final, and a decent showing in the Champions League.
The agony, the anguish, that surrounds this club is taking away from what should be a fun diversion from the real world. Each of us has to wake each day and experience the reality of our lives. Football ought to give us something beyond ourselves to get us stirred up and passionate about something.
So it comes to the questions that have seemingly polarised Arsenal supporters: Would dismissing Arsene Wenger change the club for the better? Would dismissing Arsene Wenger push the club from third to first? Would dismissing Arsene Wenger be a long-term improvement?
My answer to these questions—for now—remains no. I can’t say that a managerial change for its own sake will improve Arsenal’s standing in the Premier League table, win the European Cup, or simply make the squad more combative. I also can’t endorse changing the manager without already having a proven leader with a track record of success lined up to succeed Arsenal’s most decorated manager of the modern era.
This is really the crux of the argument for or against changing the manager: Who is available, and who wants to come to Arsenal? If we really see Arsenal as one of the biggest clubs in the world, do we want to also see Arsenal have a merry-go-round managerial situation like those other clubs? Outside of Arsenal and Manchester United, no other so-called big club has had anything resembling managerial stability. We see Barca, Real Madrid, AC Milan, Inter, and Bayern as our equals, and none of them holds on to a manager for very long. I’m also not sure how many of them are attempting to operate as a self-sustaining financial entity, either. That’s a factor that always drags me back from the precipice of calling for Wenger’s head on the block.
I posed the question on twitter recently—who is available who would replace Arsene Wenger? It wasn’t done facetiously. I sincerely would like to know who we think would be our “next” manager if we part ways with the current one. I’m not saying that it would be a mistake for the club to dismiss him out of hand. When he was hired, I had no idea who he was, so it’s certainly possible that a potential successor of similar anonymity is out there right now. Thinking about how he became Arsenal manager—the behind the scenes discussions with David Dein and the influence of Houllier—makes one wonder how it might happen again.
Managing a club like Arsenal is no simple task, either. There’s no unlimited transfer or wage budget to work from, and there are also tactics and player development to consider.
We are burning white-hot with many negative emotions right now, and we have been since the Carling Cup final. Emotion always trumps truth. For me, the truth is:
Arsenal were “eliminated” from the title race after 36 matches.
Who is the manager out there who would come to Arsenal who will change that for the better? And clearly, “for the better” means winning the whole bloody thing, not lasting one more week before being eliminated from the race.
So here is my latest: A completely equivocal, uncommitted missive that asks the question “If you really want Arsene Wenger out, who do you want to replace him?”
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
When the pictures are hidden...
This weekend, the Arsenal Football Club will play at Stoke City.
I operate under the assumption that Aaron Ramsey, Arsenal midfielder, will be among the substitutes--only because I also assume that the club's captain, Cesc Fabregas, will be counted among the first XI.
I have terrible mixed emotions about this trip. Part of me wishes to see Aaron on the pitch, scoring a goal and then removing his kit and taking a massive, pent-up sh*t all over Ryan Shawc*nt. (For those of you who don't know, Shawc*nt is the original "He's not that kind of player," or as Arsenal supporters have come to know it, "HNTKOP." His repeated inability to tackle correctly has caused serious injury to 3 players so far in a just a few years of first team football. But remember, he's not that kind of player.)
Part of me, however, remains in a pained limbo over the whole thing. I didn't see last season's match live. I saw a delayed replay the same day, and knew it was coming--"it" being that flying stomp by the great ape Shawc*nt on Aaron's leg--and it still horrified and sickened me so much that I was reduced to tears. Aaron had become a focal point for the progress of Arsene's youth project, a player who symbolised the way a bright young talent could slowly work his way into the first team, and his contributions last season were growing in importance. In contrast to the energetic, possession-keeping, tackling and hustling Jack Wilshere, Aaron was an attacking midfielder who was always driving things forward and moving upfield.
I've never seen the stomp since then. I can't imagine seeing it. I can't even want to watch the end of the match when Arsenal gathered themselves and fought back, when Big Sol stood and roared and the Captain told an interviewer, "For me, it is no good."
So seeing Aaron back on that pitch against Tony Putrid's lab experiments gone wrong, it would almost be too much to stomach. I don't know if I need that kind of closure as a supporter. I think that happened last weekend with Aaron's goal against the Rags.
I don't want people to forget what happened--ever. The shame of what that idiot did to Aaron can't be forgotten, nor should anyone forget what kind of player he was becoming before his career was so crudely interrupted. It's a more simple prospect for me--I just can't stand the thought of seeing something so horrific again. I've seen it 3 times in recent years happen to Arsenal players and I don't care to witness such a thing ever again. I think I don't even want to see it happen to John Terry. That's how horrible I think it is.
Most instructive about the vomit-inducing nature of the "tackle" was that most of the highlights programmes refused to show it or its aftermath. I believe that MOTD said plainly that it was too disgusting to show and while I know many people claimed that this was merely an attempt to diminish the violence in English football, I can't see the conspiracy there. It was in my mind a simple case of "Here, do you really want to see something this bloody disgusting again?"
The best kind of closure that could happen this weekend? A sound thrashing of Stoke City and a straight red for Shawc*nt--before the match. Just for being a big, stupid, smelly twat.
I operate under the assumption that Aaron Ramsey, Arsenal midfielder, will be among the substitutes--only because I also assume that the club's captain, Cesc Fabregas, will be counted among the first XI.
I have terrible mixed emotions about this trip. Part of me wishes to see Aaron on the pitch, scoring a goal and then removing his kit and taking a massive, pent-up sh*t all over Ryan Shawc*nt. (For those of you who don't know, Shawc*nt is the original "He's not that kind of player," or as Arsenal supporters have come to know it, "HNTKOP." His repeated inability to tackle correctly has caused serious injury to 3 players so far in a just a few years of first team football. But remember, he's not that kind of player.)
Part of me, however, remains in a pained limbo over the whole thing. I didn't see last season's match live. I saw a delayed replay the same day, and knew it was coming--"it" being that flying stomp by the great ape Shawc*nt on Aaron's leg--and it still horrified and sickened me so much that I was reduced to tears. Aaron had become a focal point for the progress of Arsene's youth project, a player who symbolised the way a bright young talent could slowly work his way into the first team, and his contributions last season were growing in importance. In contrast to the energetic, possession-keeping, tackling and hustling Jack Wilshere, Aaron was an attacking midfielder who was always driving things forward and moving upfield.
I've never seen the stomp since then. I can't imagine seeing it. I can't even want to watch the end of the match when Arsenal gathered themselves and fought back, when Big Sol stood and roared and the Captain told an interviewer, "For me, it is no good."
So seeing Aaron back on that pitch against Tony Putrid's lab experiments gone wrong, it would almost be too much to stomach. I don't know if I need that kind of closure as a supporter. I think that happened last weekend with Aaron's goal against the Rags.
I don't want people to forget what happened--ever. The shame of what that idiot did to Aaron can't be forgotten, nor should anyone forget what kind of player he was becoming before his career was so crudely interrupted. It's a more simple prospect for me--I just can't stand the thought of seeing something so horrific again. I've seen it 3 times in recent years happen to Arsenal players and I don't care to witness such a thing ever again. I think I don't even want to see it happen to John Terry. That's how horrible I think it is.
Most instructive about the vomit-inducing nature of the "tackle" was that most of the highlights programmes refused to show it or its aftermath. I believe that MOTD said plainly that it was too disgusting to show and while I know many people claimed that this was merely an attempt to diminish the violence in English football, I can't see the conspiracy there. It was in my mind a simple case of "Here, do you really want to see something this bloody disgusting again?"
The best kind of closure that could happen this weekend? A sound thrashing of Stoke City and a straight red for Shawc*nt--before the match. Just for being a big, stupid, smelly twat.
Friday, April 29, 2011
No matter how thin you slice it, it's still baloney
"I think it suggests something about the duality of man."
I have said it before, but since I'm a repetitive bore I think it bears repeating. I did not choose Arsenal Football Club, the Club chose me. I didn't follow the Arsenal because of trophies. I didn't follow the Arsenal because of players. It was never a question of glory.
Thus I was never spoilt by wild, early success that led me to believe that the path would only lead to glory and my heart would never be broken. Have I been upset at times? I have been. Don't talk to me about Ray Kennedy. Don't speak to me of Frank Stapleton. Don't show me Liam Brady in a Juve strip. I won't have it.
Did 1971 make us think we'd be covered in glory for ever and ever Amen? We see how that worked out.
There is a truth about the Arsenal Football Club that most of the newcomers can't admit--for a club that sees itself (and for a group of supporters who seem to share the same delusion) as one of the biggest and best in history, the truth is that the story of Arsenal is EQUAL parts sunlight and shadow. For every 79 FA Cup final, there's losing to West Ham the following season. Look up the records and see how true it is.
If you want to be honest about our Club, then you must admit that Arsene Wenger's trophies were an anomaly, and that coming close is more the norm.
Ahh, but that doesn't sit well with those who seek the reflected glory that comes with supporting a trophy-claiming side. No, for them, what matters most is the puffing of the chest and the bellowing that accompanies seeing the captain hoist that silverware. Never mind that they only know the heartache of losing to Barca in the Big Cup final--the heroic comeback in the Fairs Cup means nothing. But for me, it's the opposite way 'round--the glory of the Fairs Cup is fleeting, whilst the loss in Copenhagen to the Turks still hurts. STILL HURTS.
You can't scream your lungs out for Wenger to "go" (what does that even mean?) without knowing what it means to be an Arsenal supporter. You can't, because you don't understand the pain of all the losses in big matches. Don't you understand WHY the win at Anfield still dominates discussion? Don't you know why we need to fall asleep at night seeing Steve McMahon embarrassing himself with his ridiculous index finger aloft? It's because we don't get to enjoy those moments as often as our rivals. It doesn't matter what you tell yourself about how being an Arsenal supporter covers you in glory--because if you believe that, you don't know this club.
I'm sure that these musings are neither very well constructed nor satisfactory. I apologise profusely for that. But the truth of the matter is, Liam Brady won one major honour at Arsenal. How many medals does John O'Shea have? It's bloody nonsense. Brady played with some of the greatest players Arsenal have ever produced, and he won ONE BLOODY MAJOR TROPHY. You can argue which is the greatest Arsenal player ever--and I'll let you go all the way back to the Chapman era--and mention players of more recent vintage like Dennis or TH14 or Patty, but if you want to start that discussion and leave out players like McLintock or (yes, I hate to say it) David O'Leary, then what's your point, exactly? That you're under 30 and hate yourself?
I get physically ill when Arsenal don't get a result. I refuse to read anything about sport of any kind when Arsenal lose. I get angry and don't talk to people. I believe my watching causes undue harm on the players. I am convinced that wearing Arsenal colours on matchday is a curse and I bear shame for it. You don't need to question my "fan credentials."
I just feel as though, given all the other options--and I've tweeted quite a list of them (and don't give me Frank Rijkaard, please)--Arsenal already have a great manager. Is he perfect? No. Is the Arsenal Football Club? No. Are you? No.
There are players from our past who sincerely annoy me, or have, at least--Kevin Campbell and Luis Boa Morte chief among them--and not one of them will ever annoy me as much as Denilson. I loathe him as a footballer. How did Arsenal manage to cop the only shite Brazilian footballer? I also weep every time I see Diaby. But what can be done? Do you remember Cygan? Stepanovs? I used to call Grimandi "Grab Man-di" for his excellent defending. For years I screamed "And on today's programme, why Matthieu Flamini is pretending to be a football player."
My point, dear reader, from all this nonsense, is that nobody is perfect, and neither are you. Screaming for Arsene to be fired won't change the fact that George Graham managed Spurs. Which he did.
And if you can't sleep at night, just tell yourself this--what if Joe Royle had managed Arsenal?
I have said it before, but since I'm a repetitive bore I think it bears repeating. I did not choose Arsenal Football Club, the Club chose me. I didn't follow the Arsenal because of trophies. I didn't follow the Arsenal because of players. It was never a question of glory.
Thus I was never spoilt by wild, early success that led me to believe that the path would only lead to glory and my heart would never be broken. Have I been upset at times? I have been. Don't talk to me about Ray Kennedy. Don't speak to me of Frank Stapleton. Don't show me Liam Brady in a Juve strip. I won't have it.
Did 1971 make us think we'd be covered in glory for ever and ever Amen? We see how that worked out.
There is a truth about the Arsenal Football Club that most of the newcomers can't admit--for a club that sees itself (and for a group of supporters who seem to share the same delusion) as one of the biggest and best in history, the truth is that the story of Arsenal is EQUAL parts sunlight and shadow. For every 79 FA Cup final, there's losing to West Ham the following season. Look up the records and see how true it is.
If you want to be honest about our Club, then you must admit that Arsene Wenger's trophies were an anomaly, and that coming close is more the norm.
Ahh, but that doesn't sit well with those who seek the reflected glory that comes with supporting a trophy-claiming side. No, for them, what matters most is the puffing of the chest and the bellowing that accompanies seeing the captain hoist that silverware. Never mind that they only know the heartache of losing to Barca in the Big Cup final--the heroic comeback in the Fairs Cup means nothing. But for me, it's the opposite way 'round--the glory of the Fairs Cup is fleeting, whilst the loss in Copenhagen to the Turks still hurts. STILL HURTS.
You can't scream your lungs out for Wenger to "go" (what does that even mean?) without knowing what it means to be an Arsenal supporter. You can't, because you don't understand the pain of all the losses in big matches. Don't you understand WHY the win at Anfield still dominates discussion? Don't you know why we need to fall asleep at night seeing Steve McMahon embarrassing himself with his ridiculous index finger aloft? It's because we don't get to enjoy those moments as often as our rivals. It doesn't matter what you tell yourself about how being an Arsenal supporter covers you in glory--because if you believe that, you don't know this club.
I'm sure that these musings are neither very well constructed nor satisfactory. I apologise profusely for that. But the truth of the matter is, Liam Brady won one major honour at Arsenal. How many medals does John O'Shea have? It's bloody nonsense. Brady played with some of the greatest players Arsenal have ever produced, and he won ONE BLOODY MAJOR TROPHY. You can argue which is the greatest Arsenal player ever--and I'll let you go all the way back to the Chapman era--and mention players of more recent vintage like Dennis or TH14 or Patty, but if you want to start that discussion and leave out players like McLintock or (yes, I hate to say it) David O'Leary, then what's your point, exactly? That you're under 30 and hate yourself?
I get physically ill when Arsenal don't get a result. I refuse to read anything about sport of any kind when Arsenal lose. I get angry and don't talk to people. I believe my watching causes undue harm on the players. I am convinced that wearing Arsenal colours on matchday is a curse and I bear shame for it. You don't need to question my "fan credentials."
I just feel as though, given all the other options--and I've tweeted quite a list of them (and don't give me Frank Rijkaard, please)--Arsenal already have a great manager. Is he perfect? No. Is the Arsenal Football Club? No. Are you? No.
There are players from our past who sincerely annoy me, or have, at least--Kevin Campbell and Luis Boa Morte chief among them--and not one of them will ever annoy me as much as Denilson. I loathe him as a footballer. How did Arsenal manage to cop the only shite Brazilian footballer? I also weep every time I see Diaby. But what can be done? Do you remember Cygan? Stepanovs? I used to call Grimandi "Grab Man-di" for his excellent defending. For years I screamed "And on today's programme, why Matthieu Flamini is pretending to be a football player."
My point, dear reader, from all this nonsense, is that nobody is perfect, and neither are you. Screaming for Arsene to be fired won't change the fact that George Graham managed Spurs. Which he did.
And if you can't sleep at night, just tell yourself this--what if Joe Royle had managed Arsenal?
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
Copa!
About this FIFA 2010 World Cup: I love the game, and I love the tournament, but I am weary of having to watch poor match officiating. I think we all are. I think the limitations that most of the officials have displayed come down to one thing: pressure. Officials feel it just like players and managers do. As much of a cock-up as Howard Webb was through much of the Premier League season, he performed admirably in the tournament and I think his composure was due to the fact that he has been in big games and handled the pressure before. Sometimes it just seems to me that officials from small confederations go mad in big matches, brandishing cards like party favours and missing big calls. I'm not implying that referees from big nations are immune from making game-changing blunders, but I think it's easier to find quality officials from those nations. Does this kind of social democracy belong in the World Cup? I ask you this, man from Mali.
About Team USA: It's true that we don't have much of a defence. It's true that our forwards don't score much. We're limited, certainly. But...think of this: Most of this squad weren't even 10 years old when the USA returned to the World Cup in 1990. That team was made up of a bunch of college players, journeymen, part-timers--21-year old keeper Tony Meola was given the captaincy, the most senior players were three players aged 27. Their clubs? Three players were based in Europe, playing for the giants Győri, Volendam, and Meppen. All the rest played in what passed for domestic clubs in the USA. It was three-and-out for the Yanks that summer.
So in one generation, the USA went from THAT mess to this squad that was one disallowed goal away from two victories and a draw in the group stage and extra time against a fine Ghana side away from the quarterfinals. Not quite as good as the 2002 side, but then again not quite as experienced as that side either. I don't want my point to get lost by bringing up 2002, however. I'm stunned that in 20 years, the USA went from being a minnow to being expected to move out of the group stage and possibly even make the last 8. And more importantly, I didn't see one minute of the 1990 Cup until the advent of youtube. Italia '90 was a myth. I had seen some of Mexico 1986 due to the fact that I was on holiday and the hotel happened to have Univision (or whatever Spanish-language channel existed back then), but my friends thought I was insane for watching it.
We're becoming much more aware of how great the sport is in this country.
This is one generation removed from ignorance that the Cup was even taking place. I can't imagine how the sport will continue to grow. The advent of web-based content has made it simple to follow leagues all over the world. I truly believe that this has been one of the most important factors in growing interest in the game here--if we can watch it played at the highest levels, if we can see Lio Messi and Wesley Sneijder ply their skills every weekend and in the Uefa Champions League, we'll appreciate it so much more. The appetite for the game is such that Fox has added a second football-based channel. Now people in America can watch league football from England, Germany, Spain, Italy, even France (if that's your thing).
When all that was available 15 years ago was MLS--with its poor play, empty stadiums, whacko rules, ridiculous nicknames and matching uniforms--it was only natural that people might be turned off from "soccer." I couldn't stand MLS. What was with the attempt to copy gridiron? People who really love the game will love it because it's different. Earl the Cleveland Browns fan wasn't going to suddenly start following Columbus because MLS had divisions and a dumb playoff system. The sport should simply try to appeal to people by making it look more like a European league. It's slowly getting there, the quality of play is getting better, but the popularity of the sport in America is directly due to the availability of coverage of the top leagues in the world.
The USMNT is missing a top quality manager. That's the next ingredient. I'm not going to say anything about Bob Bradley as a tactician--I think he's adequate in that department. But he doesn't have the ability to organise the team tightly and they still have trouble killing off games. The early lapses in concentration or lack of defensive preparation in the World Cup cost the USA 3 victories. I sincerely believe that England, Slovenia, and Ghana were winnable matches. If the USA didn't concede early, their athleticism and attacking style would eventually wear down their opponents (Ghana is a different story, I know, but they don't have a Michael Bradley or Clint Dempsey, either). I don't have a problem with Jozy Altidore not scoring when we have three midfielders who score regularly--Jozy's ability to knock the ball down and get it to the wide players and his link-up play are excellent.
The USA's attack doesn't worry me at all; it's the back line that needs much, much work. It's fair to say that Bocanegra, DeMerit, and Cherundolo won't be back in four years. Tim Howard likely won't be around to save their bacon 4 or 5 times each match, either. The priority for US Soccer must be to identify and develop a deeper talent pool of defenders--or else continue to suffer. They also need a coach who can get the team organised and play a little bit tighter when needed. I like to see more players in Europe--I think the nerves that Bornstein eventually overcame could be helped by slugging it out across the Atlantic. If not Europe, then I hope more of our players will consider Latin America. Yes, they get beaten up on the pitch, but that's going to happen wherever we go, so they might as well toughen up now. I thought Gomez might be part of the future but damn, he's already 28. This should have been his World Cup prime--think Brian McBride in 2002.
Ultimately, this World Cup ended for the USA because Bradley couldn't get his starting XI right--and his early subs led to tired legs at the end of the match. If Edu and Feilhaber were the best options in midfield (pushing Dempsey up top in a sort-of free form 4-3-3 in attack and 4-5-1 in defence), then he should have simply started them and junked the rather rigid 4-4-2, thus keeping his subs for late when fatigue clearly became a factor in the 2nd Ghana goal. The transition from attack to defence is what separates the best teams in the world from the rest--what I've seen in this tournament is that Spain, Germany, and Holland do it best. Traditional formations seem to blur with them--Robben and Sneijder aren't strikers but are getting the goals. Podolski and Muller support Klose as forwards in attack but go back to win the ball in defence. Spain--well, Spain are different.
The USA needs a manager who can use that kind of flexibility to support a defence that has yet to come together for our national team. There are promising players in this squad that I expect will come back better in 4 years time--Michael Bradley will only be 26, Stu Holden 28, Bornstein 29, Torres 26, Jozy 24, Edu 28, and Feilhaber 29. That, along with Brad Guzan (he'll be 29) is the nucleus of a strong team. Use it well, along with a few newcomers that we probably don't even know yet, and the expectations for the team could be even higher than this year. Does Jürgen Klinsmann finally get the call?
About Team USA: It's true that we don't have much of a defence. It's true that our forwards don't score much. We're limited, certainly. But...think of this: Most of this squad weren't even 10 years old when the USA returned to the World Cup in 1990. That team was made up of a bunch of college players, journeymen, part-timers--21-year old keeper Tony Meola was given the captaincy, the most senior players were three players aged 27. Their clubs? Three players were based in Europe, playing for the giants Győri, Volendam, and Meppen. All the rest played in what passed for domestic clubs in the USA. It was three-and-out for the Yanks that summer.
So in one generation, the USA went from THAT mess to this squad that was one disallowed goal away from two victories and a draw in the group stage and extra time against a fine Ghana side away from the quarterfinals. Not quite as good as the 2002 side, but then again not quite as experienced as that side either. I don't want my point to get lost by bringing up 2002, however. I'm stunned that in 20 years, the USA went from being a minnow to being expected to move out of the group stage and possibly even make the last 8. And more importantly, I didn't see one minute of the 1990 Cup until the advent of youtube. Italia '90 was a myth. I had seen some of Mexico 1986 due to the fact that I was on holiday and the hotel happened to have Univision (or whatever Spanish-language channel existed back then), but my friends thought I was insane for watching it.
We're becoming much more aware of how great the sport is in this country.
This is one generation removed from ignorance that the Cup was even taking place. I can't imagine how the sport will continue to grow. The advent of web-based content has made it simple to follow leagues all over the world. I truly believe that this has been one of the most important factors in growing interest in the game here--if we can watch it played at the highest levels, if we can see Lio Messi and Wesley Sneijder ply their skills every weekend and in the Uefa Champions League, we'll appreciate it so much more. The appetite for the game is such that Fox has added a second football-based channel. Now people in America can watch league football from England, Germany, Spain, Italy, even France (if that's your thing).
When all that was available 15 years ago was MLS--with its poor play, empty stadiums, whacko rules, ridiculous nicknames and matching uniforms--it was only natural that people might be turned off from "soccer." I couldn't stand MLS. What was with the attempt to copy gridiron? People who really love the game will love it because it's different. Earl the Cleveland Browns fan wasn't going to suddenly start following Columbus because MLS had divisions and a dumb playoff system. The sport should simply try to appeal to people by making it look more like a European league. It's slowly getting there, the quality of play is getting better, but the popularity of the sport in America is directly due to the availability of coverage of the top leagues in the world.
The USMNT is missing a top quality manager. That's the next ingredient. I'm not going to say anything about Bob Bradley as a tactician--I think he's adequate in that department. But he doesn't have the ability to organise the team tightly and they still have trouble killing off games. The early lapses in concentration or lack of defensive preparation in the World Cup cost the USA 3 victories. I sincerely believe that England, Slovenia, and Ghana were winnable matches. If the USA didn't concede early, their athleticism and attacking style would eventually wear down their opponents (Ghana is a different story, I know, but they don't have a Michael Bradley or Clint Dempsey, either). I don't have a problem with Jozy Altidore not scoring when we have three midfielders who score regularly--Jozy's ability to knock the ball down and get it to the wide players and his link-up play are excellent.
The USA's attack doesn't worry me at all; it's the back line that needs much, much work. It's fair to say that Bocanegra, DeMerit, and Cherundolo won't be back in four years. Tim Howard likely won't be around to save their bacon 4 or 5 times each match, either. The priority for US Soccer must be to identify and develop a deeper talent pool of defenders--or else continue to suffer. They also need a coach who can get the team organised and play a little bit tighter when needed. I like to see more players in Europe--I think the nerves that Bornstein eventually overcame could be helped by slugging it out across the Atlantic. If not Europe, then I hope more of our players will consider Latin America. Yes, they get beaten up on the pitch, but that's going to happen wherever we go, so they might as well toughen up now. I thought Gomez might be part of the future but damn, he's already 28. This should have been his World Cup prime--think Brian McBride in 2002.
Ultimately, this World Cup ended for the USA because Bradley couldn't get his starting XI right--and his early subs led to tired legs at the end of the match. If Edu and Feilhaber were the best options in midfield (pushing Dempsey up top in a sort-of free form 4-3-3 in attack and 4-5-1 in defence), then he should have simply started them and junked the rather rigid 4-4-2, thus keeping his subs for late when fatigue clearly became a factor in the 2nd Ghana goal. The transition from attack to defence is what separates the best teams in the world from the rest--what I've seen in this tournament is that Spain, Germany, and Holland do it best. Traditional formations seem to blur with them--Robben and Sneijder aren't strikers but are getting the goals. Podolski and Muller support Klose as forwards in attack but go back to win the ball in defence. Spain--well, Spain are different.
The USA needs a manager who can use that kind of flexibility to support a defence that has yet to come together for our national team. There are promising players in this squad that I expect will come back better in 4 years time--Michael Bradley will only be 26, Stu Holden 28, Bornstein 29, Torres 26, Jozy 24, Edu 28, and Feilhaber 29. That, along with Brad Guzan (he'll be 29) is the nucleus of a strong team. Use it well, along with a few newcomers that we probably don't even know yet, and the expectations for the team could be even higher than this year. Does Jürgen Klinsmann finally get the call?
Tuesday, June 08, 2010
The REAL Tea Party
I'm not one for conspiracies, or, at least I hope I'm not. The idea of shadow governments, backroom deals, under-the-table payoffs, and secretive, hush-hush agreements seem exciting, but in the long run there is so little chance that human beings will keep silent that conspiracies will almost always come to light. Not only that, but most conspiracy theories, no matter how elaborate, are really just attempts to simplify difficult outcomes.
Our minds find it hard to accept random events, to believe in the arbitrary nature of the universe. Conspiracy theories are, at their simplest, a god-substitute.
Having said all that, when the 2010 FIFA World Cup draw was made, at least one group looked to me to be fixed. One group, C, and one match: USA v. England, taking place this Saturday, 12 June.
I, and millions of others in America, wanted this match. There's "Something About England," and their supporters, and football, and El Equipo de Todos, as Fernando Fiore called Team USA in 2002.
To follow football in America and be American had until recently involved one method that could be both convivial and contentious: The local ex-pat "English Pub," and making a pilgrimage there each Saturday or Sunday morning to view the Premier League via the bar's satellite feed. The Englishmen in those pubs could never take the Yanks seriously, never listen to their reasonable opinions spoken in American accents, and never miss an opportunity to slate them and their knowledge of the game.
Loud and obnoxious, rude and profane, the English in America took great pleasure in slagging off American football fans, American culture, American ales and lagers, and above all else "soccer" in America. The English, as they may on occasion humbly remind the rest of the world, invented the game! How could their ignorant American cousins know anything about it, or understand it at even the most rudimentary level?
Never mind that in their long history of playing their native sport, the English have won exactly ONE major (i.e., World Cup or Uefa Championship) tournament, that that victory took place on home soil, and that, in case they haven't reminded you lately about it, it took place 44 years ago. No, never mind that. They are the keepers of the game and its traditions. They are the honest, hard-working "lads" who play in the spirit of fairness, who only lose because of cheating referees, diving and conniving "Johnny Foreigners," dodgy pitches, or even the Hand of God!
And we, naive little colonists, despite having beaten England in the World Cup finals in 1950 (before our somewhat self-imposed 40-year absence from the tournament), cannot understand such things. We call it soccer, we weren't steeped in the traditions of the game, Wembley, Alf Ramsey, Bobby Moore, Bobby Charlton, Geoff Hurst, Terry Butcher, Gazza's tears, Gareth Southgate, Stuart Pearce...
The English football supporter cannot see himself as a whinging, myopic, self-absorbed c**t.
The USA is a nation of some 300,000,000 people. If 90% of our population ignore football, 30 million are still following it. When big foreign clubs tour the USA each summer, the grounds--which, I might add, hold more supporters than all but the largest venues in England--are sold out. Suddenly, there are bars and pubs where the customers are more American than English on those Saturday mornings. A large influx of Latin Americans into the country have influenced our tastes. We have professional teams in cities across North America--and I'm not just talking the MLS, as I can go and watch the New Orleans Jesters versus teams from across the southeastern United States.
Knowing all this, I think most Americans who follow the sport are at the end of our patience and willingness to accept that the average loudmouthed Englishman, through his very DNA, knows more about football than we do. I think we are sick of the patronising tone of their commentators and pundits. I think the ignorance of how popular the sport is here in America that they routinely show needs to be enlightened. I think John Motson needs to be taught a lesson.
Before the World Cup draw, I told my football-following friends that I wanted one game for the USA, and that really, only one game mattered. I wanted our boys to take on England, on the world's biggest stage. Strangely enough, the one game that mattered is going to take place, out of a blind draw! A game that will be played at 2:00 in the afternoon, East Coast time. On the opening Saturday of the tournament. Televised on America's largest sports network.
Conspiracy theory? Certainly not. FIFA, those fine, upstanding gentlemen, would never engage in such behaviour!
I'll see you this weekend. If the USA lose to England, so be it. All we wanted is the chance. And thanks to the completely random events of the World Cup draw, we have it.
p.s.--Wayne Rooney, John Terry, Steven Gerrard, and Ashley Cole are cunts.
Our minds find it hard to accept random events, to believe in the arbitrary nature of the universe. Conspiracy theories are, at their simplest, a god-substitute.
Having said all that, when the 2010 FIFA World Cup draw was made, at least one group looked to me to be fixed. One group, C, and one match: USA v. England, taking place this Saturday, 12 June.
I, and millions of others in America, wanted this match. There's "Something About England," and their supporters, and football, and El Equipo de Todos, as Fernando Fiore called Team USA in 2002.
To follow football in America and be American had until recently involved one method that could be both convivial and contentious: The local ex-pat "English Pub," and making a pilgrimage there each Saturday or Sunday morning to view the Premier League via the bar's satellite feed. The Englishmen in those pubs could never take the Yanks seriously, never listen to their reasonable opinions spoken in American accents, and never miss an opportunity to slate them and their knowledge of the game.
Loud and obnoxious, rude and profane, the English in America took great pleasure in slagging off American football fans, American culture, American ales and lagers, and above all else "soccer" in America. The English, as they may on occasion humbly remind the rest of the world, invented the game! How could their ignorant American cousins know anything about it, or understand it at even the most rudimentary level?
Never mind that in their long history of playing their native sport, the English have won exactly ONE major (i.e., World Cup or Uefa Championship) tournament, that that victory took place on home soil, and that, in case they haven't reminded you lately about it, it took place 44 years ago. No, never mind that. They are the keepers of the game and its traditions. They are the honest, hard-working "lads" who play in the spirit of fairness, who only lose because of cheating referees, diving and conniving "Johnny Foreigners," dodgy pitches, or even the Hand of God!
And we, naive little colonists, despite having beaten England in the World Cup finals in 1950 (before our somewhat self-imposed 40-year absence from the tournament), cannot understand such things. We call it soccer, we weren't steeped in the traditions of the game, Wembley, Alf Ramsey, Bobby Moore, Bobby Charlton, Geoff Hurst, Terry Butcher, Gazza's tears, Gareth Southgate, Stuart Pearce...
The English football supporter cannot see himself as a whinging, myopic, self-absorbed c**t.
The USA is a nation of some 300,000,000 people. If 90% of our population ignore football, 30 million are still following it. When big foreign clubs tour the USA each summer, the grounds--which, I might add, hold more supporters than all but the largest venues in England--are sold out. Suddenly, there are bars and pubs where the customers are more American than English on those Saturday mornings. A large influx of Latin Americans into the country have influenced our tastes. We have professional teams in cities across North America--and I'm not just talking the MLS, as I can go and watch the New Orleans Jesters versus teams from across the southeastern United States.
Knowing all this, I think most Americans who follow the sport are at the end of our patience and willingness to accept that the average loudmouthed Englishman, through his very DNA, knows more about football than we do. I think we are sick of the patronising tone of their commentators and pundits. I think the ignorance of how popular the sport is here in America that they routinely show needs to be enlightened. I think John Motson needs to be taught a lesson.
Before the World Cup draw, I told my football-following friends that I wanted one game for the USA, and that really, only one game mattered. I wanted our boys to take on England, on the world's biggest stage. Strangely enough, the one game that mattered is going to take place, out of a blind draw! A game that will be played at 2:00 in the afternoon, East Coast time. On the opening Saturday of the tournament. Televised on America's largest sports network.
Conspiracy theory? Certainly not. FIFA, those fine, upstanding gentlemen, would never engage in such behaviour!
I'll see you this weekend. If the USA lose to England, so be it. All we wanted is the chance. And thanks to the completely random events of the World Cup draw, we have it.
p.s.--Wayne Rooney, John Terry, Steven Gerrard, and Ashley Cole are cunts.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Stuff: It happens to everyone
I recently found a universal truth. Actually, I have found several of them. I haven't decided yet if they are related to one another. I may. I may do some intense research on that possibility.
The first of these revelations is that Colin Cowherd sucks. This blowhard fancies himself some kind of sports radio talk host. He looks like the jerk from high school who thought the band was cool, no, who thought the band was badass. And yes, I am indeed going to make fun of his appearance. Before I had seen him, I thought from the way he talked about himself that he was in some way a smooth dude, but he is obviously a geek who got abused by jocks somewhere along the way and is now taking his revenge on the sports world by pretending to talk about it.
And talk about it with a whiny, nasal, grating voice that sounds more like it belonged on a Hannah-Barbera cartoon as one of their archetypal over-officious boss characters. "Get in here, Flintstone!" you can almost hear him say.
Yet if he had anything even remotely interesting to say about sports, perhaps his numerous other flaws might not matter as much.
Instead, he passes himself off as a "business man." He brays that his audience is made up of "CEOs, entrepreneurs, guys who make decisions." From what I've heard when that audience calls the show, the only decision they make is whether to stay on the couch and piss in their adult diapers or actually make it to the can this time.
He is the ultimate frontrunner. He drones on and on about Kobe, LeBron, the Yankees, the Cowboys, Notre Dame football, and USC football. He spends hours talking about the television ratings of various events. He talks about jersey sales. In other words, he is boring. He can spend entire days telling his audience why TV networks want the Yankees to win.
REALLY? It takes you HOURS to tell people that. Who doesn't already know this boring crap? "Blah blah blah, Duke saved the NCAA tournament because nobody wants to watch Butler."
Hey buddy, do you actually know anything about the sports you talk about? Why don't you go on CNBC or Fox Business? Or better yet, because you would annoy so many people on those channels, Bloomberg TV. Jersey sales? Ratings? What is this, "Daily Variety?" zzzzzzzzzz...
Instead of bleating on and on about the most obvious things in the world, why not tell us who the NEXT Kobe or LeBron is? Why not give some actual insight into something taking place in sport, instead of "Kobe and LeBron is interesting television." Is it? IS IT REALLY? ARE YOU SURE? ARE YOU ABSO-F***ING-LUTELY SURE, NERD? Maybe you could talk about which baseball teams have the best player development systems? No, that would require actual knowledge of your subject, and you have demonstrated every day for years now that you HAVE NONE.
So this jerk gets a radio show that is neither morning drive nor afternoon drive. Does that say anything? There's a reason you weren't given Dan Patrick's spot, goober. It's because YOU SUCK. If you really were cool, you wouldn't have to talk about what a great businessman you are, you wouldn't have to brag about how hard you work, you wouldn't need to remind us how busy you are, because you wouldn't have to. Hard work is obvious. I don't hear Mike & Mike bragging about themselves and how hard they work. Do you know why? BECAUSE IT SHOWS IN THEIR EFFORTS. Your audience is made up of CEOs, huh? Sure. Jack Welch wakes up every day panting at the thought of listening to your grating voice prattle on about the most obvious stories in the world.
Do sports radio fans a favour and please go far, far away from a microphone, and never come back to one again. Thanks!
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
If you go back, deep into the archives of this off-again, on-again blog, you'll learn that 5 years ago I was involved with a girl who suffers from bipolar disorder. It was as much fun as it was terrible, which if you think about it ought to be obvious. Well, last summer she contacted me and told me that she had been working hard to improve her life, that she no longer abused drugs and alcohol, and that she had feelings for me. I pondered the possibility of getting involved with her again, and decided that since we live a good 7 hours drive apart, it couldn't really hurt. And she was indeed doing better.
Just be prepared if you ever decide to involve yourself with someone with a serious mental disorder. It never really gets better. Never.
She is beautiful, strikingly beautiful, she has a good heart and a great sense of humour. But brother, when that wind in her mind shifts direction, it really shifts direction. I went to a support meeting for families of people with mental illness, and at the very end when I was leaving, a woman asked me, "You mean you would willingly get involved with someone who has bipolar disorder?"
So universal truth number two: Crazy people are crazy and they stay crazy. They don't ever stop being crazy. Enter at your own risk. The world assumes no liability for you.
The first of these revelations is that Colin Cowherd sucks. This blowhard fancies himself some kind of sports radio talk host. He looks like the jerk from high school who thought the band was cool, no, who thought the band was badass. And yes, I am indeed going to make fun of his appearance. Before I had seen him, I thought from the way he talked about himself that he was in some way a smooth dude, but he is obviously a geek who got abused by jocks somewhere along the way and is now taking his revenge on the sports world by pretending to talk about it.
And talk about it with a whiny, nasal, grating voice that sounds more like it belonged on a Hannah-Barbera cartoon as one of their archetypal over-officious boss characters. "Get in here, Flintstone!" you can almost hear him say.
Yet if he had anything even remotely interesting to say about sports, perhaps his numerous other flaws might not matter as much.
Instead, he passes himself off as a "business man." He brays that his audience is made up of "CEOs, entrepreneurs, guys who make decisions." From what I've heard when that audience calls the show, the only decision they make is whether to stay on the couch and piss in their adult diapers or actually make it to the can this time.
He is the ultimate frontrunner. He drones on and on about Kobe, LeBron, the Yankees, the Cowboys, Notre Dame football, and USC football. He spends hours talking about the television ratings of various events. He talks about jersey sales. In other words, he is boring. He can spend entire days telling his audience why TV networks want the Yankees to win.
REALLY? It takes you HOURS to tell people that. Who doesn't already know this boring crap? "Blah blah blah, Duke saved the NCAA tournament because nobody wants to watch Butler."
Hey buddy, do you actually know anything about the sports you talk about? Why don't you go on CNBC or Fox Business? Or better yet, because you would annoy so many people on those channels, Bloomberg TV. Jersey sales? Ratings? What is this, "Daily Variety?" zzzzzzzzzz...
Instead of bleating on and on about the most obvious things in the world, why not tell us who the NEXT Kobe or LeBron is? Why not give some actual insight into something taking place in sport, instead of "Kobe and LeBron is interesting television." Is it? IS IT REALLY? ARE YOU SURE? ARE YOU ABSO-F***ING-LUTELY SURE, NERD? Maybe you could talk about which baseball teams have the best player development systems? No, that would require actual knowledge of your subject, and you have demonstrated every day for years now that you HAVE NONE.
So this jerk gets a radio show that is neither morning drive nor afternoon drive. Does that say anything? There's a reason you weren't given Dan Patrick's spot, goober. It's because YOU SUCK. If you really were cool, you wouldn't have to talk about what a great businessman you are, you wouldn't have to brag about how hard you work, you wouldn't need to remind us how busy you are, because you wouldn't have to. Hard work is obvious. I don't hear Mike & Mike bragging about themselves and how hard they work. Do you know why? BECAUSE IT SHOWS IN THEIR EFFORTS. Your audience is made up of CEOs, huh? Sure. Jack Welch wakes up every day panting at the thought of listening to your grating voice prattle on about the most obvious stories in the world.
Do sports radio fans a favour and please go far, far away from a microphone, and never come back to one again. Thanks!
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
If you go back, deep into the archives of this off-again, on-again blog, you'll learn that 5 years ago I was involved with a girl who suffers from bipolar disorder. It was as much fun as it was terrible, which if you think about it ought to be obvious. Well, last summer she contacted me and told me that she had been working hard to improve her life, that she no longer abused drugs and alcohol, and that she had feelings for me. I pondered the possibility of getting involved with her again, and decided that since we live a good 7 hours drive apart, it couldn't really hurt. And she was indeed doing better.
Just be prepared if you ever decide to involve yourself with someone with a serious mental disorder. It never really gets better. Never.
She is beautiful, strikingly beautiful, she has a good heart and a great sense of humour. But brother, when that wind in her mind shifts direction, it really shifts direction. I went to a support meeting for families of people with mental illness, and at the very end when I was leaving, a woman asked me, "You mean you would willingly get involved with someone who has bipolar disorder?"
So universal truth number two: Crazy people are crazy and they stay crazy. They don't ever stop being crazy. Enter at your own risk. The world assumes no liability for you.
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Sports can just suck donkey dong
How bad is it, Antonio?
Ah, well, you see, I recently decided to check out of politics completely. I don't want to think about it. American politics is a waste of time. I am not going to influence anything anyone does. I'd love to think of myself as grand enough to shape events, but I can't, and I never will. I've wasted my life so much that I won't ever be important enough to directly influence the political landscape.
It wasn't just my own ineffectual reality that did me in, however--I wouldn't want you to think that up until that point I fancied myself so important. It was the realisation that people in the USA are childish and stupid and our politics are arrested in some state of permanent adolescence. I'm done with it. People are childish and so easily manipulated, and the negative thoughts I would routinely experience because of this were seeping into my daily routine. I want to think good thoughts (not necessarily "happy" thoughts, mind) positive thoughts, because I have seen that those thoughts influence my life. I cleanse myself of pessimism. I renounce negativity.
I have decided that the best, and for that matter the MOST I can do is try to do the right thing in my small space of the world. I cannot say what is the best thing I can do FOR you or TO you; but I can say that I will try to organise my actions in such a way that they cause you no harm.
I gave up the morning NPR listening because of the negative and frustrating thoughts that would be made manifest each day. In its place I listen to "Mike & Mike in the Morning." Even that can occasionally bug me but I don't see lives in the balance when I hear how wonderful Mr. American Football is.
Sport, you see, can be the cheery little diversion until the sides with whom you've invested yourself become stricken with some sort of disorder. I don't believe we choose the clubs or schools we follow; rather, they choose us.
Arsenal, then, chose me some 14 years ago. This was pre-Wenger, pre-doubles, pre-Invincibles; Bruce Rioch was the manager. So what happened? Was I spoilt by the success Wenger brought? Did experiencing the success of Bobby Bowden's FSU teams in the 1990s ruin me? Would I spend all the years after Leeman Bennett coached the Falcons wishing they were good again? Will I ever get past the success the Braves had for 14 straight seasons? How long did I miss "Atlanta's Air Force" after the Fratello years with the Hawks?
And so that brings me to the team that rescued me during my 1992 divorce from a mentally ill woman--I speak of the University of Massachusetts Men's Basketball team. I did not know that it had been 31 years between appearances in the NCAA tournament for UMass. I did not know the coach was John Calipari. I didn't know the players or the history. What I knew was that one Sunday afternoon in March 1992, I went into my office at City Hall in Atlanta and watched the tournament, long my favourite sporting event in America. And I knew that I hated Syracuse, and I got to see UMass beat Syracuse in an amazing and dramatic fashion, and the players were elated and that was that--as the Christ might have extended his hand and told me to follow, UMass bade me to become a disciple. And there is no devotion quite like that of the convert.
There followed 4 more years of glory and drama, and then the decade of agony. There is agony now with the team in yet another rebuilding year. UMass and Arsenal are perpetually getting ready for the next campaign, and they are probably the two teams with which I am most invested. And for some reason, they are the teams which seem to experience the most angst.
They are not able to solve their problems. They cannot find the resources to compete. They make poor choices with personnel or their personnel make poor choices. Good players go bad or have weaknesses exposed before the entire world. And above all else--and this is truly the way I can tell that the clubs chose me, and not the other way 'round--their supporters are in an eternal state of overwrought emotion.
My support for these dysfunctional clubs stands in contrast to the simultaneous success of those which I despise. It's not West Ham United or Fulham who top the league table, it's Chelsea and ManU. It's not NC-Charlotte or Duquesne running roughshod over the A10, it's once again Temple. The Atlanta Falcons most bitter rivals, the Saints, are "enjoying a magical season." Oh who gives a right proper f***?
Even when I reject politics, sport seem to provide no refuge. Maybe it really is all about "Family Guy."
Ah, well, you see, I recently decided to check out of politics completely. I don't want to think about it. American politics is a waste of time. I am not going to influence anything anyone does. I'd love to think of myself as grand enough to shape events, but I can't, and I never will. I've wasted my life so much that I won't ever be important enough to directly influence the political landscape.
It wasn't just my own ineffectual reality that did me in, however--I wouldn't want you to think that up until that point I fancied myself so important. It was the realisation that people in the USA are childish and stupid and our politics are arrested in some state of permanent adolescence. I'm done with it. People are childish and so easily manipulated, and the negative thoughts I would routinely experience because of this were seeping into my daily routine. I want to think good thoughts (not necessarily "happy" thoughts, mind) positive thoughts, because I have seen that those thoughts influence my life. I cleanse myself of pessimism. I renounce negativity.
I have decided that the best, and for that matter the MOST I can do is try to do the right thing in my small space of the world. I cannot say what is the best thing I can do FOR you or TO you; but I can say that I will try to organise my actions in such a way that they cause you no harm.
I gave up the morning NPR listening because of the negative and frustrating thoughts that would be made manifest each day. In its place I listen to "Mike & Mike in the Morning." Even that can occasionally bug me but I don't see lives in the balance when I hear how wonderful Mr. American Football is.
Sport, you see, can be the cheery little diversion until the sides with whom you've invested yourself become stricken with some sort of disorder. I don't believe we choose the clubs or schools we follow; rather, they choose us.
Arsenal, then, chose me some 14 years ago. This was pre-Wenger, pre-doubles, pre-Invincibles; Bruce Rioch was the manager. So what happened? Was I spoilt by the success Wenger brought? Did experiencing the success of Bobby Bowden's FSU teams in the 1990s ruin me? Would I spend all the years after Leeman Bennett coached the Falcons wishing they were good again? Will I ever get past the success the Braves had for 14 straight seasons? How long did I miss "Atlanta's Air Force" after the Fratello years with the Hawks?
And so that brings me to the team that rescued me during my 1992 divorce from a mentally ill woman--I speak of the University of Massachusetts Men's Basketball team. I did not know that it had been 31 years between appearances in the NCAA tournament for UMass. I did not know the coach was John Calipari. I didn't know the players or the history. What I knew was that one Sunday afternoon in March 1992, I went into my office at City Hall in Atlanta and watched the tournament, long my favourite sporting event in America. And I knew that I hated Syracuse, and I got to see UMass beat Syracuse in an amazing and dramatic fashion, and the players were elated and that was that--as the Christ might have extended his hand and told me to follow, UMass bade me to become a disciple. And there is no devotion quite like that of the convert.
There followed 4 more years of glory and drama, and then the decade of agony. There is agony now with the team in yet another rebuilding year. UMass and Arsenal are perpetually getting ready for the next campaign, and they are probably the two teams with which I am most invested. And for some reason, they are the teams which seem to experience the most angst.
They are not able to solve their problems. They cannot find the resources to compete. They make poor choices with personnel or their personnel make poor choices. Good players go bad or have weaknesses exposed before the entire world. And above all else--and this is truly the way I can tell that the clubs chose me, and not the other way 'round--their supporters are in an eternal state of overwrought emotion.
My support for these dysfunctional clubs stands in contrast to the simultaneous success of those which I despise. It's not West Ham United or Fulham who top the league table, it's Chelsea and ManU. It's not NC-Charlotte or Duquesne running roughshod over the A10, it's once again Temple. The Atlanta Falcons most bitter rivals, the Saints, are "enjoying a magical season." Oh who gives a right proper f***?
Even when I reject politics, sport seem to provide no refuge. Maybe it really is all about "Family Guy."
Friday, August 14, 2009
3 weeks in limbo
Two weekends of travel, plus a 3 day celebration of my birthday last weekend, took me away from these efforts but I suppose now I'm back. What have I missed?
England destroyed by Australia (that is far too mild a term to describe what happened) in the Ashes.
Arsenal do nothing in the transfer market. Lather, rinse, repeat.
USA defeated by Mexico and referee. See above.
I'll quickly share my thoughts on each of these things:
Ravi Bopara should not be allowed to bat 3rd for England. What he did in the Fourth Test was so terrible, so wretched, so embarrassing, that it actually is beyond belief. When do you stop beating your head against a wall expecting it not hurt? What is worse about what he did was the ripple effect it had on the rest of the batsmen, forcing ever-desperate displays. If he plays in the Fifth test, write it off. His confidence is in ruins.
Arsenal--I don't know. I don't know what to think anymore. I am to the point where I say, "Would you please just overpay for a decent centre-half so we can move on?" The angst of this summer is hurting the supporters. It's sickening, really. Not that I have any claim on what Wenger ought to do--by sickening I mean that it causes tension, stress, and feelings of unease that are translated by the mind into nausea and headaches. Stop making me sick, Arsene! I don't have health insurance!
A very different reaction from the USA v. Mexico match--white-hot anger. Why is it OK for opposing players to grab an injured player and try to drag him to his feet by his head? Why is it OK for an opposing player to sprint 40 yards and shove someone in the back at the endline? Why is it OK to throw debris, missiles, cups, and other nasty stuff at a visiting player? IF THE USA SUPPORTERS CONDUCTED THEMSELVES THIS WAY, FIFA WOULD BAN US. But when "they" do it, it's OK because it's "cultural." Oh, so you're saying that behaving like savages is part of their culture? Is that racist?
It's cowardly for FIFA to look the other way at the abuse that USA players have to endure. It's also disgusting. The USA will never be taken seriously, nor will the USA take the game seriously, until this stupid, childish, dimwitted double-standard is eliminated. The end.
England destroyed by Australia (that is far too mild a term to describe what happened) in the Ashes.
Arsenal do nothing in the transfer market. Lather, rinse, repeat.
USA defeated by Mexico and referee. See above.
I'll quickly share my thoughts on each of these things:
Ravi Bopara should not be allowed to bat 3rd for England. What he did in the Fourth Test was so terrible, so wretched, so embarrassing, that it actually is beyond belief. When do you stop beating your head against a wall expecting it not hurt? What is worse about what he did was the ripple effect it had on the rest of the batsmen, forcing ever-desperate displays. If he plays in the Fifth test, write it off. His confidence is in ruins.
Arsenal--I don't know. I don't know what to think anymore. I am to the point where I say, "Would you please just overpay for a decent centre-half so we can move on?" The angst of this summer is hurting the supporters. It's sickening, really. Not that I have any claim on what Wenger ought to do--by sickening I mean that it causes tension, stress, and feelings of unease that are translated by the mind into nausea and headaches. Stop making me sick, Arsene! I don't have health insurance!
A very different reaction from the USA v. Mexico match--white-hot anger. Why is it OK for opposing players to grab an injured player and try to drag him to his feet by his head? Why is it OK for an opposing player to sprint 40 yards and shove someone in the back at the endline? Why is it OK to throw debris, missiles, cups, and other nasty stuff at a visiting player? IF THE USA SUPPORTERS CONDUCTED THEMSELVES THIS WAY, FIFA WOULD BAN US. But when "they" do it, it's OK because it's "cultural." Oh, so you're saying that behaving like savages is part of their culture? Is that racist?
It's cowardly for FIFA to look the other way at the abuse that USA players have to endure. It's also disgusting. The USA will never be taken seriously, nor will the USA take the game seriously, until this stupid, childish, dimwitted double-standard is eliminated. The end.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Welcome back. I've missed you so.
Hmm. Where to begin?
With the thrashing the USA endured at the hands of Mexico? No, please.
With Contador basically saying that Lance Armstrong is a dick? Not if I can avoid it.
With KP being unfit for The Ashes? How could I miss him if he won't go away? Well, now he's gone. Hello, Ian Bell. Bell has struggled. Bell has shown impatience. Bell, if I may offer, sounds quite a bit like KP.
Then that leaves me with the Arsenal Football Club selling two players (one in attack, one in defence) for what appears to be around 40 million quid. Oh dear.
What would Arsene Wenger want to do with that much money? Right now, I have one thing to suggest: Even if you must overpay, get Hangeland from Fulham. Get him. It's imperative. Donkey Silvestre is not CB cover. NOT AT ALL. Never do that again, mmmkay? Get Hangeland. From what I hear, Tommy V. got hurt today. Of course. You sell Toure, and V. gets knocked out of the game. That's the Arsenal way.
I hated to see Kolo go, in one sense, because he's an Arsenal man and Gallas is not. But Gallas is better as of now, and this is an unsentimental business.
Wenger turned a massive profit on this transfer. I don't think that's enough. Just saying that it happened doesn't change the fact that the squad still needs some quality players in it. It's tempting to look at this moment as the barometer of just where the club sees itself. If some of this money is invested in two more quality players, it sees itself as a championship contender. If none of it is, at least in the summer, then it sees itself as scrambling for fourth and settling for that. It's really that simple. 40 million pounds is a lot of brass.
With the thrashing the USA endured at the hands of Mexico? No, please.
With Contador basically saying that Lance Armstrong is a dick? Not if I can avoid it.
With KP being unfit for The Ashes? How could I miss him if he won't go away? Well, now he's gone. Hello, Ian Bell. Bell has struggled. Bell has shown impatience. Bell, if I may offer, sounds quite a bit like KP.
Then that leaves me with the Arsenal Football Club selling two players (one in attack, one in defence) for what appears to be around 40 million quid. Oh dear.
What would Arsene Wenger want to do with that much money? Right now, I have one thing to suggest: Even if you must overpay, get Hangeland from Fulham. Get him. It's imperative. Donkey Silvestre is not CB cover. NOT AT ALL. Never do that again, mmmkay? Get Hangeland. From what I hear, Tommy V. got hurt today. Of course. You sell Toure, and V. gets knocked out of the game. That's the Arsenal way.
I hated to see Kolo go, in one sense, because he's an Arsenal man and Gallas is not. But Gallas is better as of now, and this is an unsentimental business.
Wenger turned a massive profit on this transfer. I don't think that's enough. Just saying that it happened doesn't change the fact that the squad still needs some quality players in it. It's tempting to look at this moment as the barometer of just where the club sees itself. If some of this money is invested in two more quality players, it sees itself as a championship contender. If none of it is, at least in the summer, then it sees itself as scrambling for fourth and settling for that. It's really that simple. 40 million pounds is a lot of brass.
Monday, July 20, 2009
A giant bag of suck, A giant bag of greatness
And so it was just not meant to be.
If Watson had done it, it would have been the greatest thing in sport in my lifetime. Nothing I have known in any sport could have compared to it. And I suppose he knew that, too, and it overwhelmed him. So he blasted that second shot at 18 with all the delicate touch of a Bavarian butcher. And I felt it slip away then. I wanted him to do it so that I could say I witnessed something unthinkable. I was gutted when he couldn't do it. I can't even begin to imagine what he is feeling now.
It's difficult to even offer congratulations to Stewart Cink, who is a good bloke who once suffered a loss in a major that I thought would haunt him forever. Southern Hills had to eat away at him. He played much of the last 8 years like it did. I was convinced he would collapse because of that, and he didn't. He focused and did the business. I put it this way after it was over: Watson has 8 majors and would be considered one of the greatest ever if hadn't even played the weekend. But Stewart Cink? A guy that just couldn't get it done. Now that has changed, Southern Hills begone, and he is a major champion. That makes losing history a bit more tolerable. A bit.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Then there's history of a different kind. England had not beaten Australia at Lord's since (get ready) 1934. And now they have, and in a dominating fashion so decidedly un-English that it boggles the mind. Strauss confidently declared. England's bowlers attacked early and despite the double-century pairing of Clarke and Haddin, took advantage of the new ball and took 4 wickets in the span of 75 overs, and then won the damn test by 115 runs! In the first innings, Anderson & Onions were dominant. In the second, it was Swanny and Freddy Flintoff in what will now become a legendary performance. Now that brave batting spell from the tail at Cardiff seems even more important.
And what's more, England can win The Ashes. Not bad. Not bad at all.
If Watson had done it, it would have been the greatest thing in sport in my lifetime. Nothing I have known in any sport could have compared to it. And I suppose he knew that, too, and it overwhelmed him. So he blasted that second shot at 18 with all the delicate touch of a Bavarian butcher. And I felt it slip away then. I wanted him to do it so that I could say I witnessed something unthinkable. I was gutted when he couldn't do it. I can't even begin to imagine what he is feeling now.
It's difficult to even offer congratulations to Stewart Cink, who is a good bloke who once suffered a loss in a major that I thought would haunt him forever. Southern Hills had to eat away at him. He played much of the last 8 years like it did. I was convinced he would collapse because of that, and he didn't. He focused and did the business. I put it this way after it was over: Watson has 8 majors and would be considered one of the greatest ever if hadn't even played the weekend. But Stewart Cink? A guy that just couldn't get it done. Now that has changed, Southern Hills begone, and he is a major champion. That makes losing history a bit more tolerable. A bit.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Then there's history of a different kind. England had not beaten Australia at Lord's since (get ready) 1934. And now they have, and in a dominating fashion so decidedly un-English that it boggles the mind. Strauss confidently declared. England's bowlers attacked early and despite the double-century pairing of Clarke and Haddin, took advantage of the new ball and took 4 wickets in the span of 75 overs, and then won the damn test by 115 runs! In the first innings, Anderson & Onions were dominant. In the second, it was Swanny and Freddy Flintoff in what will now become a legendary performance. Now that brave batting spell from the tail at Cardiff seems even more important.
And what's more, England can win The Ashes. Not bad. Not bad at all.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
More of the same, in a good way
I just don't know what to think about England. Today was fraught with cheaply given wickets, paralysingly slow runs/overs ratios, and a 521 run lead at stumps. Doesn't it kill, when you see ridiculous batting for hours, then 181 runs in 31.2 overs, then tossing away two more wickets in the final 9 overs of the day? FFS. England.
There's only one question: How long do England wait tomorrow to declare? Can they get 79 runs in the morning? Damn those last two wickets. Really. If they can average 5 runs/over, it would be around 16 overs needed. That's assuming the tail can survive. (They batted roughly 4.4 today.)
Today was excruciating. Ravi and KP, having been chastened before, decided to start playing it conservative AT EXACTLY THE TIME THEY SHOULD HAVE BEEN DOING THE OPPOSITE. I'm sorry, it's pure hindsight, but when they ought to have been defensive, they were profligate, and when they needed to take risks, they were grinding. It was maddening. So when the two of them were (mercifully) dismissed, Colly, Prior, and Freddy combined for 145 (Freddy not out; the other two shitting the proverbial bed in the final 9 overs).
Strauss thought that the pitch was conducive so he chose not to enforce the follow-on after brilliant English bowling. Seriously--we can call it that; it was. I think he chose wisely so far, but England must get runs tomorrow if he chooses not to declare. This was dull cricket, but then again, it was more or less effective. It's against my nature to be critical of England when they're clinical, mostly because they never are.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Adebayor is finally, and officially, gone. Thank Buddha. And no, he is not comparable to Anelka. Anelka was a footballer.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
It is not beyond reason that a near 60-year old man could win The Open. Think about that for a moment. Seriously, think about that.
If he does it--and I seriously believe he can, because he is a tough-minded bastard--it will be the greatest accomplishment in sport in my lifetime. I am struggling to come to grips with that thought. This man, who played in the longest shadow ever cast in golf, might win a major championship, THE major championship, at an age when most geezers are duffing it at the local muni. As follows is a post I wrote elsewhere; it sums up my feelings about Tom Watson:
I'm sick of hearing comparisons to Norman last year.
Does Greg Norman have 8 major titles?
Is Greg Norman one of the greatest links players ever?
Is Greg Norman known as one of the toughest, strong-minded golfers in history?
FUCK GREG NORMAN. He couldn't even take a shit as good as Watson can.
I hated Watson when I was a kid, because he was so arrogant (what I now understand to be confidence) and because he seemed to get the best of Jack (I grew up in a Golden Bear-supporting household). In fact, it started in 1977, when I was 10 years old and watched "The Duel in the Sun."
But over the years, I've come to not only respect but really be in awe of Watson. 5 Open Championships at five different courses? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? *And* he won at Pebble Beach and Augusta.
I watched him Thursday and I watched that incredible recovery on Friday (I seriously thought he was a footnote after 5 straight bogeys), and I watched every minute today. He can do this, because he doesn't have to "go for it" now. He is leading. He doesn't have to play risky golf to catch up. He still has the best swing in golf. Better than Els? Uh, yeah. I love watching that swing. No "torque" or attempt to murder the ball--just easy, compact, thoughtful, shot-making swings. And is there yet a better sand player alive? Holy crap did he make some incredible saves today.
It's his mind, see. His mind. He is as mentally tough a player as has ever lived. I saw that all day today.
So
YES HE CAN!
This a.m. watching him warm up, Curtis Strange was marveling at why TW would take his first swings with a long iron. I thought, "Shit, LOOK AT THE SWING!" There is no Fred Couples-esque chance for a back injury, there is no Eldrick-esque twisting of the knee; he's not a giant, he's not trying to finish high up behind his neck--it's the perfect swing.
That's it, isn't it? Did you see the video they showed of his swing over the course of 30 years (deep breath at even saying that) and how it didn't change at all? Nope. He's like the Ted Williams of golf. Same mechanics, same pre-strike routine. That speaks to his concentration and mental toughness, too. I always disliked him for that Keith Hernandez-like arrogance; I imagined him standing over the ball and thinking, "Heh heh, I'M TOM WATSON" and then hitting the ball perfectly.
The slo-mo videos they kept showing today of his ball striking was remarkable. I doubt the best players on earth of this generation get that kind of straight-on contact as much as he did today.
Sorry for going on and on--This guy is on my Mt. Rushmore of golf legends (with Hogan, Nelson, and Jack--space reserved for Eldrick) and he is there because of his performances at The Open, which is my favourite major.
Tomorrow could be really fun.
There's only one question: How long do England wait tomorrow to declare? Can they get 79 runs in the morning? Damn those last two wickets. Really. If they can average 5 runs/over, it would be around 16 overs needed. That's assuming the tail can survive. (They batted roughly 4.4 today.)
Today was excruciating. Ravi and KP, having been chastened before, decided to start playing it conservative AT EXACTLY THE TIME THEY SHOULD HAVE BEEN DOING THE OPPOSITE. I'm sorry, it's pure hindsight, but when they ought to have been defensive, they were profligate, and when they needed to take risks, they were grinding. It was maddening. So when the two of them were (mercifully) dismissed, Colly, Prior, and Freddy combined for 145 (Freddy not out; the other two shitting the proverbial bed in the final 9 overs).
Strauss thought that the pitch was conducive so he chose not to enforce the follow-on after brilliant English bowling. Seriously--we can call it that; it was. I think he chose wisely so far, but England must get runs tomorrow if he chooses not to declare. This was dull cricket, but then again, it was more or less effective. It's against my nature to be critical of England when they're clinical, mostly because they never are.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Adebayor is finally, and officially, gone. Thank Buddha. And no, he is not comparable to Anelka. Anelka was a footballer.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
It is not beyond reason that a near 60-year old man could win The Open. Think about that for a moment. Seriously, think about that.
If he does it--and I seriously believe he can, because he is a tough-minded bastard--it will be the greatest accomplishment in sport in my lifetime. I am struggling to come to grips with that thought. This man, who played in the longest shadow ever cast in golf, might win a major championship, THE major championship, at an age when most geezers are duffing it at the local muni. As follows is a post I wrote elsewhere; it sums up my feelings about Tom Watson:
I'm sick of hearing comparisons to Norman last year.
Does Greg Norman have 8 major titles?
Is Greg Norman one of the greatest links players ever?
Is Greg Norman known as one of the toughest, strong-minded golfers in history?
FUCK GREG NORMAN. He couldn't even take a shit as good as Watson can.
I hated Watson when I was a kid, because he was so arrogant (what I now understand to be confidence) and because he seemed to get the best of Jack (I grew up in a Golden Bear-supporting household). In fact, it started in 1977, when I was 10 years old and watched "The Duel in the Sun."
But over the years, I've come to not only respect but really be in awe of Watson. 5 Open Championships at five different courses? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? *And* he won at Pebble Beach and Augusta.
I watched him Thursday and I watched that incredible recovery on Friday (I seriously thought he was a footnote after 5 straight bogeys), and I watched every minute today. He can do this, because he doesn't have to "go for it" now. He is leading. He doesn't have to play risky golf to catch up. He still has the best swing in golf. Better than Els? Uh, yeah. I love watching that swing. No "torque" or attempt to murder the ball--just easy, compact, thoughtful, shot-making swings. And is there yet a better sand player alive? Holy crap did he make some incredible saves today.
It's his mind, see. His mind. He is as mentally tough a player as has ever lived. I saw that all day today.
So
YES HE CAN!
This a.m. watching him warm up, Curtis Strange was marveling at why TW would take his first swings with a long iron. I thought, "Shit, LOOK AT THE SWING!" There is no Fred Couples-esque chance for a back injury, there is no Eldrick-esque twisting of the knee; he's not a giant, he's not trying to finish high up behind his neck--it's the perfect swing.
That's it, isn't it? Did you see the video they showed of his swing over the course of 30 years (deep breath at even saying that) and how it didn't change at all? Nope. He's like the Ted Williams of golf. Same mechanics, same pre-strike routine. That speaks to his concentration and mental toughness, too. I always disliked him for that Keith Hernandez-like arrogance; I imagined him standing over the ball and thinking, "Heh heh, I'M TOM WATSON" and then hitting the ball perfectly.
The slo-mo videos they kept showing today of his ball striking was remarkable. I doubt the best players on earth of this generation get that kind of straight-on contact as much as he did today.
Sorry for going on and on--This guy is on my Mt. Rushmore of golf legends (with Hogan, Nelson, and Jack--space reserved for Eldrick) and he is there because of his performances at The Open, which is my favourite major.
Tomorrow could be really fun.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Meh
I have two things to discuss. No, I have two things that suck that I must acknowledge.
HTF did England do what they did today? Of course, you can say "Because they're England" or make some ironic or sarcastic comment about how England will always fail. But that is not sufficient. Six bleeding wickets? It's just too much. It's just too painful if you support English cricket. That's all I can say.
And Adebayor wants to "take some time" to sort out his move to Eastlands?
Bah.
Ade, let me help you: YOU CANNOT PLAY FOR ARSENAL AGAIN. YOU BLEW IT. LEAVE. GO. NOW. FARE THEE WELL.
How could he f*** this up? Better yet, WHY?
HTF did England do what they did today? Of course, you can say "Because they're England" or make some ironic or sarcastic comment about how England will always fail. But that is not sufficient. Six bleeding wickets? It's just too much. It's just too painful if you support English cricket. That's all I can say.
And Adebayor wants to "take some time" to sort out his move to Eastlands?
Bah.
Ade, let me help you: YOU CANNOT PLAY FOR ARSENAL AGAIN. YOU BLEW IT. LEAVE. GO. NOW. FARE THEE WELL.
How could he f*** this up? Better yet, WHY?
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Get out while the gettin' is good!
Adebayor is allegedly headed to Eastlands! Let it be, dear lord, let it be.
Now the question: What will happen to the better than 20 million quid headed to Ashburton Grove?
Does the manager get all of it? Any of it? Does he buy a striker or a holding midfielder? Does he get an experienced player for more money or buy another "promising youngster?"
The squad is actually pretty big. It's just young. There's talent. Some of it is world class, some of it looks like rubbish. But for sake of the argument, let's say there are currently these forwards/strikers available:
van Persie
Bendtner
Eduardo
Arshavin
Vela
and possibly Walcott
Jay Simpson has been given a squad number as well.
From what I've seen, IF this group can stay healthy, it's a very potent strike force with a nice mix of styles and abilities. There is pace, power, and guile. Bendtner and Vela need more matches to fulfil their potential, which I believe is abundant, but the others are ready. If you had six strikers, five of which are very important internationals for their countries, and the other one has featured on the wing for England, then in my unprofessional opinion, that's quite a collection.
Bendtner scores goals and has a good engine. And please remember he's only 21, and Vela is only 20.
So...
What I wish is that Wenger would go into the season with this group of forwards and spend whatever money he can on an experienced defensive midfielder. That's a wish; unfortunately, what I think will happen is that he doesn't get to spend this money, or he only gets a small bit of it, or he is told that he can have some of it in the January transfer window once we see how this squad performs.
Either way, now that I've typed this, I'm actually impressed with the group of strikers Wenger as assembled. WITHOUT Adebayor, the worthless git.
Now the question: What will happen to the better than 20 million quid headed to Ashburton Grove?
Does the manager get all of it? Any of it? Does he buy a striker or a holding midfielder? Does he get an experienced player for more money or buy another "promising youngster?"
The squad is actually pretty big. It's just young. There's talent. Some of it is world class, some of it looks like rubbish. But for sake of the argument, let's say there are currently these forwards/strikers available:
van Persie
Bendtner
Eduardo
Arshavin
Vela
and possibly Walcott
Jay Simpson has been given a squad number as well.
From what I've seen, IF this group can stay healthy, it's a very potent strike force with a nice mix of styles and abilities. There is pace, power, and guile. Bendtner and Vela need more matches to fulfil their potential, which I believe is abundant, but the others are ready. If you had six strikers, five of which are very important internationals for their countries, and the other one has featured on the wing for England, then in my unprofessional opinion, that's quite a collection.
Bendtner scores goals and has a good engine. And please remember he's only 21, and Vela is only 20.
So...
What I wish is that Wenger would go into the season with this group of forwards and spend whatever money he can on an experienced defensive midfielder. That's a wish; unfortunately, what I think will happen is that he doesn't get to spend this money, or he only gets a small bit of it, or he is told that he can have some of it in the January transfer window once we see how this squad performs.
Either way, now that I've typed this, I'm actually impressed with the group of strikers Wenger as assembled. WITHOUT Adebayor, the worthless git.
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