It seems that no-one has posted anything today. Either you have all died or the RSS feeds aren’t working. What is a poor boy to do but sneak in a little sports related post while no-one is looking.
I watched Chelsea lose today. I am not sure whether Spurs winning or Chelsea losing gave me the greatest pleasure. I have just about forgiven Spurs for cheating Leicester City out of the 1961 FA Cup. It was a very hard lesson for one so young. Bastards. Spurs play, or attempt to play and usually succeed, open, attractive, attacking football. Chelsea play, to borrow from Mel Brooks, like a bunch of Kansas City faggots.
I should point out that I have nothing against Kansas City, its faggots or any place else’s faggots. The phrase is entirely rhetorical.
Chelsea belong in the Italian league. Their style is dull, unimaginative and sterile. Having spent the best part of £600 million on players, they have contrived to produce a boring spectacle. I would like to see them relegated. To borrow from another great wit, Shanks, who was talking of Everton rather than Chelsea, but it fits, “if they were playing in my back garden, I’d close the curtains.”
Anyway, today justice was done, and the overpaid primadonnas from Fulham were sent packing.
Slightly more worrying was the conclusion I reached having had more than my normal dose of rugby this weekend, that I would rather watch the poorer teams from the Super 14 than the home international matches. It would be unfair to say that England won their match this weekend. France lost it. I can think of no players currently playing in Europe, apart from a handful of All Blacks, who I would go out of my way to watch. The standards really are dreadful. Too many errors, stupidity abounds. In contrast, for example, was the performance of Richie McCaw this weekend. Exquisite. Although the highlight may have been Phil Waugh, when called over to speak to the ref and seeing Jono Gibbes approach saying “He’s talking to me. Fuck off.” Simple and to the point, it encapsulates the spirit of the modern game.
5 comments:
I posted something, at great pain, so that my readership didn't complain that no-one had posted anything. Your RSS leads must be twisted.
and here I was expecting my meagre education to be expanded into the realms of C18th Egypt
:-(
I watched most of the internationals and I must say that, even though I'm not a connoisseur of the game, I agree with you. The media seem to have raved over England's performance but I thought it was decidedly lacklustre. I didn't even realise Nick Easter was playing until Brian Moore gave him Man of the Match.
Ha ha. Chelsea. My heart bleeds for them although the satisfaction would have been greater had the Chosen One still been there. Maybe there is a god. My grandma used to work at White Hart Lane, you know. I've also got Dave Mackay's autograph.
Taking on board your confession not to be a connoisseur, I should say in the defence of Mr Easter that it is the subtleties of the forward game that sway the outcome of these matches, and what goes on in the scrum is understood by very few, even those involved. The French forwards were worn down by the English pack. That's about all I know, and I can't pick out any individual as being the key element, although the props seemed to be dominant everywhere.
I've been watching rugby for as long as I can remember and I enjoy it immensely but its subtleties I find are difficult to grasp fully. You think you're understanding them and then it all becomes a mystery. Amazing how I understand cricket.
Out of interest, I used to get regularly thrashed at table tennis every lunchtime by Fraser, John Currie's youngest son with whom I worked for about 18 months in the early 90s. John Currie died in Leicester, did you know that?
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