Archive for the ‘Football’ Category

It’s hard to be disappointed in the result, of course, but the three points really would’ve been nicer.  Today’s match gives great creedence to my theory that as goes Gilberto so goes Arsenal since once again he had a remarkable showing and, aside from the damn makeshift back line, so did most everyone else.   Highlight was definitely the Drogba-Lehmann slapstick revue.  Ok, and I hate to admit it but the Essien goal really was beautiful.  I’m pretty impressed that we managed to hold it together despite lacking Toure and Henry and Gallas, and all in all, it was one of the most fun matches I’ve seen in a while.  A 1-1 draw with second-choice center halfs?  Not too shabby.  I do hope this is a sign of things to come.

I do continue to be concerned with Freddie’s tendency to lose his footing with some regularity.  Is he not fully fit yet?  It’s been steadily downhill for him since last season and while clearly some of his difficulties were explained by his various injuries (and rushing back before fully fit) I am concerned that he has simply lost pace.  In his old form, he was a real asset to the squad because of his pace and versatility.  These days?  I sort of cringe when he comes in off the bench.  Whether it’s fitness, a feeling of fighting with Rosicky for a job, or simply being too keyed up, it’s hard to watch him these days.  I hope he’s able to work out whatever is going on because he used to be one of my favorites to watch.  I think it all started with pushing himself through injury for the Champion’s League and continued with rushing back to play in the Cup.  I was surprised when none of our commentators noted the ankle-twisting in the game against Paraguay (I think it was Paraguay.)  To that end, when he was unavailable for the beginning of the Premiereship because of an ankle injury it struck me that the injury likely was a direct result of compensating for the original foot injury.  The calf?  Likely a result of the ankle and foot.  I’d bet he pushed himself because of the signing of Rosicky and Pires’ departure and I’d bet he has himself all wrapped up in proving his worth now.  It doesn’t work that way, especially when your asset is speed.  And what we need on the wings right now is speed.  It feels like a lot of Arsenal’s old magic passes down the wing are lost because no-damn-body is up there to receive.  To be sure, the 4-5-1 has not helped that situation either (and so help me, I can’t figure out Arsene’s thinking on *that* because I distinctly recall him calling out Domenach during the Cup for playing Henry in a 4-5-1.)  No matter what, the passity passity is fun to watch but I’d like some results in addition to pretty football.   Hells, I’d take results instead of pretty football sometimes.  No denying that defense is our biggest weakness, but the stuff happening up front isn’t great either.

This post brought to you by my FIL commenting on how much better Chelsea played than Arsenal.  There’s no reason to have to hear that sort of thing in one’s living room.

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I’m so bummed they don’t have an Arjen Robben one of these.  We were going to affix it to the floor of our entry hall. Maybe we can go with this one instead? Get it? Somewhere, right now, someone has made eye contact with Arjen Robben and he’s writhing on the ground? Har.  Wait, I have one for Ronaldo too–step over this, Cristiano!  Hear that?  It’s the sound of one hand clapping.  I can’t even applaud myself.  It would spice up our foyer, though.

Arsenal-Porto isn’t being broadcast here in the States until 5:00 so my job for the next few hours is to avoid checking any sort of scores so that I can see it firsthand. This, of course, means that I won’t want to see it. It’s pretty much guaranteed that any match that is televised is a horrible catastrophe (ok, it’s just a football loss not an actual disaster) to watch. Especially with the decimation of the back line and Adebayor’s somewhat spotty performances aside from the trouncing of Spurs. Off to pace, and maybe agonize through the Man Utd-Benfica match without peeking at the streaming results. Come on Arsenal.

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…and boy do the dead dream weird shit.  I was passed out enough to not really remember the circumstances of my dreams, but there was something to do with Robert Pires and blogging.  Perhaps I have gotten stressed out enough about coming up with daily entries that my subconscious is doing my legwork whilst I sleep?

For the eventuality that I get folks popping by from The Google looking for information about Pires’ parents–dude, I have no idea.  Nor do I know anything about Ronaldinho’s grandparents or house, or what high school Zidane attended, or what *his* parents’ names were, or the names of Pele’s parents, or information about Ronaldinho written in French.  Try this site for a start.  It’s not that I don’t like the hits, but my OCD compels me to have answers for these questions and to be quite honest, I don’t need to know the names of footballer’s parents.  Unless, of course, all of y’all want to pay me to do your Googling for you.

Anyhow, I’d write about Arsenal at this point but I missed both of their games last week due to travel.  I did catch the Man Utd-Chelsea match today, and honestly the only result that could’ve possibly been satisfying was if somehow points were taken away from both.  Why did I watch?  A week without football is like a day without shitting.  Or something.  Watch, that will show up as a search engine term and I’m going to remove all references to sports entirely.

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Did you have your eyebrow bitten off by a man who screwed your wife?

The mental picture…I just…really, there are no words.  C’mon Neil.  Paddy Kenny is now the dictionary definition of ‘insult to injury.’  How can you not feel bad for him?  Weren’t you ever young and impetuous and friends with cuckolding cannibals?

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Mad Google Skillz

Ok, if you’re here for Ronaldinho’s parents’ names and other biographical information, that post is here.

If you’re looking for Pele’s real name, it is Edson Arantes de Nascimento.

Zinedine Zidane’s real name, curiously enough, is Zinedine Zidane.

And, for the person looking for their goth name?  It’s Raven Crow McFartsbats.

Keep ’em coming.  I am addicted to Google.

And since we’re on the topic of football (somewhat) I’d like to take this opportunity to gloat over Arsenal’s thorough tromping of Liverpool at weekend.  I’m not allowed to have favored players after what happened to Lauren, but let’s just say I’m especially appreciative of a certain Ivorian centerhalf.

This post has been brought to you by the conspicuous absence of a certain character in my short story.  Please, heretofore undefined old lady, help a writer out.

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Fun with Google

For the several folks who have come here looking for information on Ronaldinho’s practice schedule and the names of his parents–I have absolutely no idea.  I’m pretty sure I have the names of his parents somewhere in a magazine, so if I come across those, I’ll post ’em.  As far has how much he practices, I’ll keep an eye out in articles, but my estimation is ‘a whole freaking lot.’   For the person looking for ‘easy mama,’ you’ve come to the wrong place.  Nothing easy about me, in any sense of the word.

Wait–Ronaldinho’s father was named Joao da Silva Moreiro.  Mother is Miguelina.  Don’t say I never gave you nothin’.

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You bit a man! On the football pitch! Oy.

In other news, I have signed on, along with the rest of the world, for NaBloPoMo. Which is ironic since (it’s also ironic that I first typoed ‘since’ to read ‘wince’) I am totally not doing my rewrite for workshop tonight. It wasn’t coming together right, and, well, I didn’t feel like busting my ass to force it. I did scrub my walls and shower instead, so it isn’t like I spent *all* day doing crosswords and watching decorating shows.

I also had the dubious distinction of receiving a photo of my great-aunt’s brown recluse bite, and it’s really gross. I’m a pretty big spider so I’m having a bit of difficulty coming to grips with the whole flesh-eating wound thing. The upside is that none of our arachid friends are brown recluses, even though I almost break my shit running every time Luce tells me she’s found one. We did get to watch a teeny garden spider wrapping up a ladybug behind the toy toolbench today, which was rather cool. Lesson number one: any spider catching food in a web is not a brown recluse. We have another between the tv cabinet and granite tops who is taking care of our ant problem. We’ve named him Donovan and I’d rather like to give him a parade for dealing with the ants. How those fuckers got in is beyond me, but they have some weird tunnel between the foyer and C’s bathroom where they carry crumbs through the caulk and leave them in a tidy little pile. It really freaked me out the first time I went in to clean and tried to figure out why my husband was eating crackers on the john.

See, isn’t that more fun than a rewrite? Really, we’re not slovenly, it’s just Lucy really likes bugs. Plus spiders are totally cool.

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