FIFA pulled out all the stops and went full on rage mode with the recent announcement of their official stance in handling Nigeria.
Traditionally, FIFA has worked harder to keep politics and soccer separate from eachother than the Southern American states do to keep religion away from the civic sphere. So when Nigerian president Goodluck Jonathon officially disbanded the Nigerian national team from all international competitions after their dismal performance in the finals in South Africa, FIFA responded, albeit slightly delayed, with obvious logic: FIFA has threatened to punish the Nigerian government and football association by... banning the team from all international play.
Recursive cows from Brazil to Montana just face-hooved. Way to go Sepp, you've shocked and awed once again.
Showing posts with label backwards pass. Show all posts
Showing posts with label backwards pass. Show all posts
June 28, 2010
I cried.
I cried like a god damn little baby. Like a lost child without it's mother. Yes, I was shit faced hammered on the curb outside a bar, but I let it flow. Every single tear of anguished, unabashed agony. I fuzzily remember people in cars wondering what was going on, why some kid with an American flag draped over his shoulders, was sitting alone on a curb. I think I then got carried off by my girlfriend.
The USA are done. Out. World Cup dreams finished and gone. Four years of my life are now a part of history, and can now stay that way for good. In a way, it's somewhat of a relief, but it's nevertheless disappointing. Of all teams we had to bow out to, I did not want it to be Ghana. I wanted the heroics. The epic USA - Brazil semifinal battle, the USA - England rematch, the Uruguay - USA dogfight. But no, we went tamely to Ghana. To a team that made us feel cheap, used, and dumb. They basically said "hey, you guys are idiots. instead of wasting everyone's hearts for 120 minutes, all you guys needed to do was just finish one shot. lolz". Dreamland has shattered, and now I'm forced to come back to reality.
But what hurt so much for me was that this World Cup brought back the feeling of being a fan. Of being a 100% pure and innocent, all or nothing, show up or go home fan. It helped that I was blogging for the first time over at the USA blog, that it sort of gave me an extra incentive to want every push, to dream of tactical substitutions for sleepless nights, and to hope for the best. But it was pure. And I knew what to expect. Which is why it hurts.
And in the dying minutes of the game, no matter how many times I had ordered that one extra beer, no matter the fact that I had bruised myself pounding my sides into the table, I had recognized what was happening.With minutes still to play, I saw it, in the defeated shapes of shoulders and slow movement on the screens. We were done. And I was watching the slow torturous death of it. And just as when someone you know moves on or the certain time has come, you take some time to remember their values, the best of times you had, the shared closeness. Memories of qualification, of Charlie Davies, of fans more emotional than me, of my own personal drama that intertwined with the team's path to the tournament. It all came rushing at once, and hit me like Heskey to my chest. It hurt.
What's the rule? Denial, anger, bargaining, and depression? And last comes acceptance? Saturday mid-day, I had moved swiftly through each stage and on to the next. I don't know if it's just my type, or my family history, but I seemed to linger at depression. Because accepting that there was nothing that the team could have done, that starting Findley and Clark would've yielded the same results as starting Gaetjens and Bahr, was not something I could do easily. Blaming Bob Bradley wasn't going to give us three points. It wouldn't remove the sting of the matter of the fact. Trust me. I wanted dearly to be at acceptance, and to be done with the whole mess and to never have to think about it again. But I was caught, somewhere between the ecstasy of seeing a ghost and the alcohol driven sickness of defeat.
Everyone, even non-soccer fans and non-Americans, knew what was on the line. Something much bigger than one person's passion for soccer was visible for an entire world to see. To watch other public luminaries join forces and support the cause was like having physical proof that what you want in the world matters. That the progression of simple game of kickball can be so mindbogglingly epic. For me, it meant a niche part of my life was finally so close the precipice of vindication. I could see the shining sun on the other side, where literally the path was brighter and happier. Instead of being turned around, as would've been the case had this World Cup been an utter disaster, we are all of us caught, in limbo, in a perfect act of balance on the peak, with one way back from where we came from, and the other way towards a brighter future for American sport. Seriously, how much worse can it be. For all of us to know, that we neither failed nor succeeded outright, but instead we have to wait further to decide our path. Honestly, I have neither the heart nor the patience to know the answer. Because so much is on the line, and I proudly see that it's not just in personal terms for me.
The joke for Americans is that in poor countries around the world, children wake up with no food or shelter, little clothing or little schooling, and wander around aimlessly until they find a television in a hut somehow broadcasting a soccer match. However, the child won't be alone, as a small group of hopeless men and women huddle around the TV to warm their bones and souls. Where a win can give a child an incentive to smile, or a draw with political neighbors can create a ceasefire. Where the hopes of a poor nation literally ride the shoulders of 11 men. Yesterday, I was that small child who was searching for hope. In a world where wars exist and oil is spilled uncontrollably, I have yet to learn that life goes on and time does not stop. So living for 90 minutes for something else is the only logical respite I can find. It's unfair that when those 90 minutes are over, I'm forced to suddenly grow twice my age.
I realize I'm probably doing this all wrong. That acceptance doesn't involve writing off the entire tournament. You're supposed to grow. To be able to look back at the history and improve yourself. But this is hollow. And so underwhelming. I wanted something finite, something I could grasp, something that the world could understand. But the sort of questions I'm left with are ones I can't answer. So with helplessness, I say oh well. It's just a game.
The USA are done. Out. World Cup dreams finished and gone. Four years of my life are now a part of history, and can now stay that way for good. In a way, it's somewhat of a relief, but it's nevertheless disappointing. Of all teams we had to bow out to, I did not want it to be Ghana. I wanted the heroics. The epic USA - Brazil semifinal battle, the USA - England rematch, the Uruguay - USA dogfight. But no, we went tamely to Ghana. To a team that made us feel cheap, used, and dumb. They basically said "hey, you guys are idiots. instead of wasting everyone's hearts for 120 minutes, all you guys needed to do was just finish one shot. lolz". Dreamland has shattered, and now I'm forced to come back to reality.
But what hurt so much for me was that this World Cup brought back the feeling of being a fan. Of being a 100% pure and innocent, all or nothing, show up or go home fan. It helped that I was blogging for the first time over at the USA blog, that it sort of gave me an extra incentive to want every push, to dream of tactical substitutions for sleepless nights, and to hope for the best. But it was pure. And I knew what to expect. Which is why it hurts.
And in the dying minutes of the game, no matter how many times I had ordered that one extra beer, no matter the fact that I had bruised myself pounding my sides into the table, I had recognized what was happening.With minutes still to play, I saw it, in the defeated shapes of shoulders and slow movement on the screens. We were done. And I was watching the slow torturous death of it. And just as when someone you know moves on or the certain time has come, you take some time to remember their values, the best of times you had, the shared closeness. Memories of qualification, of Charlie Davies, of fans more emotional than me, of my own personal drama that intertwined with the team's path to the tournament. It all came rushing at once, and hit me like Heskey to my chest. It hurt.
What's the rule? Denial, anger, bargaining, and depression? And last comes acceptance? Saturday mid-day, I had moved swiftly through each stage and on to the next. I don't know if it's just my type, or my family history, but I seemed to linger at depression. Because accepting that there was nothing that the team could have done, that starting Findley and Clark would've yielded the same results as starting Gaetjens and Bahr, was not something I could do easily. Blaming Bob Bradley wasn't going to give us three points. It wouldn't remove the sting of the matter of the fact. Trust me. I wanted dearly to be at acceptance, and to be done with the whole mess and to never have to think about it again. But I was caught, somewhere between the ecstasy of seeing a ghost and the alcohol driven sickness of defeat.
Everyone, even non-soccer fans and non-Americans, knew what was on the line. Something much bigger than one person's passion for soccer was visible for an entire world to see. To watch other public luminaries join forces and support the cause was like having physical proof that what you want in the world matters. That the progression of simple game of kickball can be so mindbogglingly epic. For me, it meant a niche part of my life was finally so close the precipice of vindication. I could see the shining sun on the other side, where literally the path was brighter and happier. Instead of being turned around, as would've been the case had this World Cup been an utter disaster, we are all of us caught, in limbo, in a perfect act of balance on the peak, with one way back from where we came from, and the other way towards a brighter future for American sport. Seriously, how much worse can it be. For all of us to know, that we neither failed nor succeeded outright, but instead we have to wait further to decide our path. Honestly, I have neither the heart nor the patience to know the answer. Because so much is on the line, and I proudly see that it's not just in personal terms for me.
The joke for Americans is that in poor countries around the world, children wake up with no food or shelter, little clothing or little schooling, and wander around aimlessly until they find a television in a hut somehow broadcasting a soccer match. However, the child won't be alone, as a small group of hopeless men and women huddle around the TV to warm their bones and souls. Where a win can give a child an incentive to smile, or a draw with political neighbors can create a ceasefire. Where the hopes of a poor nation literally ride the shoulders of 11 men. Yesterday, I was that small child who was searching for hope. In a world where wars exist and oil is spilled uncontrollably, I have yet to learn that life goes on and time does not stop. So living for 90 minutes for something else is the only logical respite I can find. It's unfair that when those 90 minutes are over, I'm forced to suddenly grow twice my age.
I realize I'm probably doing this all wrong. That acceptance doesn't involve writing off the entire tournament. You're supposed to grow. To be able to look back at the history and improve yourself. But this is hollow. And so underwhelming. I wanted something finite, something I could grasp, something that the world could understand. But the sort of questions I'm left with are ones I can't answer. So with helplessness, I say oh well. It's just a game.
May 17, 2010
April 7, 2010
Backwards Pass: Hilarious Chris Kamara misses the red card
It gets funnier the more times you watch Chris Kamara's face. This is awesome.
April 5, 2010
Backwards Pass: Give the man a drink
This is truly hard to watch. Cheers to getting better by tomorrow mate.
March 24, 2010
Backwards Pass: I call bullshit
Excuse me for not falling for this silliness, but these rumors of rappers about to dive into football, well, it's nothing but struttin' and flexin' nuts.
Am I the only one that thinks this is retarded? I mean, these reports are e v e r y where. It's in both soccer and non-soccer pages (wow, an article in the music industry about soccer without a wag or Beckham in it). Maybe that's a good thing?
Nah. I just want to know, why is everyone falling over the idea of Jay-Z, P.Diddy, LMFAO, Lady Gaga (slippery slope, but highly unlikely) owning their club. Do you really think it'll make your club that much cooler? It's not like Palace would even ever get the chance to pop bottles of Kristal celebrating the FA Cup.
If either of these guys decide to dip their chocolate and champagne covered balls into football, it won't be the same as the typical takeovers we've seen this year a-la-Citeh. I say, pull your pants up and move along. I'd rather have a dirty Russian or Arab take over with actual money than a hyped-up celebrity with the appearance of money. Overpaid players don't need more incentive to party. Or you get this.
Am I the only one that thinks this is retarded? I mean, these reports are e v e r y where. It's in both soccer and non-soccer pages (wow, an article in the music industry about soccer without a wag or Beckham in it). Maybe that's a good thing?
Nah. I just want to know, why is everyone falling over the idea of Jay-Z, P.Diddy, LMFAO, Lady Gaga (slippery slope, but highly unlikely) owning their club. Do you really think it'll make your club that much cooler? It's not like Palace would even ever get the chance to pop bottles of Kristal celebrating the FA Cup.
If either of these guys decide to dip their chocolate and champagne covered balls into football, it won't be the same as the typical takeovers we've seen this year a-la-Citeh. I say, pull your pants up and move along. I'd rather have a dirty Russian or Arab take over with actual money than a hyped-up celebrity with the appearance of money. Overpaid players don't need more incentive to party. Or you get this.
January 23, 2010
Backwards Pass: Yanks Out, Mancs Not
Well this is embarrassing. Here's a wonderful red crowd butchering a classic John Denver song.
Really, who is the guy on the microphone? Who gave it to him in the first place?
Really, who is the guy on the microphone? Who gave it to him in the first place?
January 15, 2010
Blatter Part 2: God damnit
This is why I hate FIFA, bureaucrats, and politics in sports.
No, change that. I hate this man.
Jerome Champagne, a rival of Blatter within FIFA's ranks, was forced out after it was revealed he challenged Blatter over his role as director of international relations. Again, Champagne was described as one of Blatter's closest friends and most trusted advisor. This seems to officially kill any and all opposition to Blatter's throne next year.
So in another political move of removing any voice of opposition, this is what the latest victim had to say to Blatter after the announcement of his demotion.
Fuck. That.
No, change that. I hate this man.
Jerome Champagne, a rival of Blatter within FIFA's ranks, was forced out after it was revealed he challenged Blatter over his role as director of international relations. Again, Champagne was described as one of Blatter's closest friends and most trusted advisor. This seems to officially kill any and all opposition to Blatter's throne next year.
So in another political move of removing any voice of opposition, this is what the latest victim had to say to Blatter after the announcement of his demotion.
Champagne said he wished "to thank Joseph S. Blatter for the real privilege of having been able to serve the world of football over the years, all in the noble cause of helping to build a better world.''
Fuck. That.
Backwards Pass: Bin Hammam, better than Blatter?
AFC head honcho has come out to suddenly backtrack on his disagreement with Sepp Blatter. Rumors were flying that FIFA president hopeful came out against Blatter in a row over allocation of funds for grassroots football in Africa. However, though the two have been described as good friends, bin Hammam seems quick to smooth over any rough edges.
It's understandable to do this for political reasons, if bin Hammam is really trying to move for the presidency, in maybe the next decade (or sooner if Blatter will finally roll over and die, good riddance). But it does nothing else other than to solidify Blatter's monopoly on control and power within FIFA. Holy hell, even Platini doesn't have the balls to tell Blatter he is wrong to his face. In other words, Mohammad bin Hammam has the balls to stand up and do what he thinks is right. But is his meager 8 years of experience enough to guide him wisely?
He most likely won't be FIFA president for a long while, if at all, but damnit, we need more people like him coming out against Blatter.Sepp Bladderhead needs more reminders that he is not God Almighty.
January 1, 2010
Backwards Pass: Get Money, New Years Edition
Though money rules the world, not everything in life is all business. Sport, for example, is an industry built by media moguls and millionaires looking to use the machine to turn profits, but is founded in the free idea of fair play. A game between Chelsea and Barcelona has the same basic rules as a Sunday pickup game, the only difference is that one can provide the joy and exhilaration of football for free. However, in recent years, football has been infected by the same quick-buck mentality that fueled the recent worldwide financial meltdown. Short-sighted and selfish, it's owners like these who expect the purity of football to follow the simplicity of an economic equation. Money does not equal success. It never will. Just as in life, success comes with many other things.
Most people don't throw the word "love" around too easily, especially amongst the male Sunday pub demographic. But ask any club or country fan, and they can go on infinitely about love of the game, and love of football. From a physical perspective, money is the furthest thing from love, but would you not want to spend every penny you had for a show of appreciation for someone you love? There is a reason why wedding rings are typically diamond and gold. So shouldn't Roman Abramovich's recent decision to personally re-finance the £340m ($546m) debt be seen as a show of love? Obviously any Pooltard, Manc, or hatedMillwallLion will scrunch their noses and scowl, for without Sugar Daddy's bottomless purse, Chelsea would still be failing to achieve last year's new years resolution of breaking even. Of course it was an ambitious goal, for a club as large as Chelsea to be fully sustainable, but it is an admirable goal.
Regardless, it should be obviously known of Abramovich's love of Chelsea. Billions of his own money in the club. Unlike Sheikhwhoever, Abramovich has actually been spotted at matches. Youth and reserve team matches, mind you. He set up cameras at Cobham training ground to watch his team practice while he travels, and has been known to walk in random pubs to watch his team play.
It's odd then that average fans still don't understand. The media will understandably dislike Abramovich, especially after this court statement.
STATEMENT ON BEHALF OF OWNER
Posted on: Sun 18 Jan 2009
Defamation proceedings will be commenced tomorrow (Monday) in London by Roman Abramovich against the publishers of The Sunday Times.
This follows the publication by them of false claims that he wants to sell his interest in Chelsea FC. Mr Abramovich has already made quite clear, through the directors of Chelsea, that he has no intention of doing so and that neither he nor anyone upon his behalf has been pursuing any such course of action.
I remember reading the one or two dumb articles saying how Chelsea would be up for sale, but as a Chels fan myself I knew them to be bogus and a waste of e-ink. It was typical drumming up of unfounded hatred. So it's unsurprising now that the media does not know how to handle Abramovich coming out to support UEFA's new Fair Play rules. Not many blogs have got this out yet, but this one handles it pretty well. The WSJ also explains the new rules set to be used by 2012, which would require that in order to participate in the Champions League, all clubs must be financially stable and sustainable. This is designed to prevent clubs from racking up large debts in search of success. Though Chelsea managed to reduce their losses this year by £22 million, £12.5m of which was the payoff for Phil Scolari, it stands in contrast to the increase in total debt of the winning champions in 10 European leagues by some £50m, with a total combined debt of all clubs of over £3.8 billion.
Let me repeat that. Europe's overall debt increased this year, while Chelsea lowered their standing debt. Further, most of Chelsea's debt went into equity investment, with construction of the training ground completed this year. So their debt shouldn't even really count as debt. Meanwhile, Chelsea are five points clear in the league, with no plans to buy or sell this January window, with a manager looking to finally utilize the talent and youth of the academy (Kakuta, Sturridge, and Borini, here's your chance to shine). My sweet lord, it is a good time to be wearing blue.
But not if your Pompey. With a precedent already of a team being kicked from the Belgian Juliper League, Portsmouth merely have one month (Feb 23) to show that they won't fall under. It doesn't help then that other managers and chairmen are calling for Pompey heads. RC Lens chief Gervais Martel has already called for Portsmouth to be kicked for the league, saying that he feels cheated after they failed to receive money for the Belhadj and Dindane transfers. It's starting to look like Avram Grant will be forced to sell players in order to pay them the three-months owed wages, but it quickly will become a deadly slippery slope to League One a-la Leeds United.
So when did money become such an important part of sport? The better question to ask is why, but there may not be a clear reason if Barca knock Chelsea out of the Champions League again. After 5 years and billions of personal money, Abramovich may yet destroy everything he's dreamed of. Ironically, for Chelsea to win the Champions League would be a dream come true for millions of Chelsea fans, myself included. To see John Terry lift the cup over his head would be the greatest moment in club history, hand down. But if Chelsea do ever win that cursed and pedestaled trophy, it would spawn more Sheikh Mansours and Sulaiman al-Fahims. It would sadly reaffirm that equations can be created, that football is just another industry to be modeled, and that dreams can be bought. I wonder then if the sport could ever retain the purity it has now, or had long ago.
Anyways, my New Years resolution is to continue to play Football Manager 2010 and to try and take Blue Square South minnows Eastleigh FC all the way to the top and win the Champions League. Only this time without cheating and editing the pre-game data for a little extra cash...
Anyways, my New Years resolution is to continue to play Football Manager 2010 and to try and take Blue Square South minnows Eastleigh FC all the way to the top and win the Champions League. Only this time without cheating and editing the pre-game data for a little extra cash...
December 7, 2009
Backwards Pass: Ra-ooooooooooo-l
I stole this from DT, but this is too fantastic not to share.
If you understand Spanish, enjoy. If you understand body language, watch as Raul melts into non-existence as during Madrid's win against Almeria, Pelligrini goes back and forth of calling up Raul. First he tells him to warm up, but then Ronaldo's penalty is scored. Then Pelligrini looks as if he is calling on Raul, but is instead calling on Diarra. Finally, Pelligrini subs in Drenthe, at which point Raul knows there are no more substitutions, and "no mas que hablar".
Poor guy.
If you understand Spanish, enjoy. If you understand body language, watch as Raul melts into non-existence as during Madrid's win against Almeria, Pelligrini goes back and forth of calling up Raul. First he tells him to warm up, but then Ronaldo's penalty is scored. Then Pelligrini looks as if he is calling on Raul, but is instead calling on Diarra. Finally, Pelligrini subs in Drenthe, at which point Raul knows there are no more substitutions, and "no mas que hablar".
Poor guy.
November 25, 2009
Backwards Pass: Not to play the tired hand, but....
Oh shut up.
Anyways, if you haven't seen it or heard about "Thierrygate", then you must've been born yesterday or you are French, and like Wenger, you "din't see eet". Well, Frenchies, can you translate "hand of god" for me?
I really didn't feel the need or urge to say anything about the whole France - Ireland fiasco, simply because it was everywhere and obvious. Ireland feels bad, Thierry feels bad, excuse for a manager Domenech feels nothing in his empty chest and head, all of Europe feels bad, Swedish football fans apologized to Ireland, even God admits this is one big mess (by this: France).
Don't get me wrong. Unlike almost ALL of the bloody sports media, I am not going to pull a "my father's father was Irish." I don't feel like griping about it, and I'm not an Irish sympathizer/French hater by any means.
But this. THIS. Is unacceptable.
I know referees have gotten a lot of stick over recent years, to the extent of death threats and forced retirings (Ovrebo, I'll never forgive you). But moments like those seem to come out of sheer frustration, anger, and humiliation. Eire's situation is beyond that. Nothing can be done, no replay would be fair enough. Automatic qualification would not bring the same satisfaction. At this point, the only justice to the footballing world would be for Martin Hansson and his team to recognize that they fucked up, apologize, and stay out of the World Cup Finals. Trying to remove yourself from blame is to say that you played no part in the result, that you may as well have been home smelling paint and wanking anyways. That is the last thing football referees need to be doing right now to earn back credibility and respect in a crucial time when technology and cameras are threatening to turn referees into a yellow shirted tradition.
Martin Hansson, this isn't about you. It never was, and never will be. It's about football. Ireland as a whole is man enough to take it on the chin (which is no mean feat for the Irish), so kindly put yourself above it all and do some right in this twisted football world.
Anyways, if you haven't seen it or heard about "Thierrygate", then you must've been born yesterday or you are French, and like Wenger, you "din't see eet". Well, Frenchies, can you translate "hand of god" for me?
I really didn't feel the need or urge to say anything about the whole France - Ireland fiasco, simply because it was everywhere and obvious. Ireland feels bad, Thierry feels bad, excuse for a manager Domenech feels nothing in his empty chest and head, all of Europe feels bad, Swedish football fans apologized to Ireland, even God admits this is one big mess (by this: France).
Don't get me wrong. Unlike almost ALL of the bloody sports media, I am not going to pull a "my father's father was Irish." I don't feel like griping about it, and I'm not an Irish sympathizer/French hater by any means.
But this. THIS. Is unacceptable.
The Swedish referee who missed Thierry Henry's now famous handball insists he was not at fault, but the incredible fallout after the World Cup play-off incident still almost caused him to quit football.
First of all, did I read that correctly?
"I realise that it was not my fault," he told Swedish newspaper Sydostran. "It was an unfortunate event that had big consequences for Ireland, but it wasn't the fault of the refereeing team."
Oh snap.
You know, it takes an entirely separate level of boneheaded idiocy to first, ignore what your eyeballs see, ignore the fan reaction, ignore the player reaction, and still give a goal. But to try and distance yourself from any sort of blame does not protect you. If this man has a working human conscience, then he must surely understand causation. He let the goal stand, and millions around the world feel cheated. Hmm, is there a connection?
I know referees have gotten a lot of stick over recent years, to the extent of death threats and forced retirings (Ovrebo, I'll never forgive you). But moments like those seem to come out of sheer frustration, anger, and humiliation. Eire's situation is beyond that. Nothing can be done, no replay would be fair enough. Automatic qualification would not bring the same satisfaction. At this point, the only justice to the footballing world would be for Martin Hansson and his team to recognize that they fucked up, apologize, and stay out of the World Cup Finals. Trying to remove yourself from blame is to say that you played no part in the result, that you may as well have been home smelling paint and wanking anyways. That is the last thing football referees need to be doing right now to earn back credibility and respect in a crucial time when technology and cameras are threatening to turn referees into a yellow shirted tradition.
Martin Hansson, this isn't about you. It never was, and never will be. It's about football. Ireland as a whole is man enough to take it on the chin (which is no mean feat for the Irish), so kindly put yourself above it all and do some right in this twisted football world.
November 20, 2009
Biggest Match Fixing Probe in European History
So far, 15 suspects have been arrested, 50 raids carried out producing €1m in cash, with over €10m ($15m) in illegal betting proceeds, and a total of 200 matches around Europe suspected of fixing including 3 Champions League fixtures.
The Financial Times has this,
The game is dirty folks, that's just how it is. But if UEFA and FIFA can handle this the right way, it would be a huge statement for other organizing bodies that match-fixing can be taken care of.
The Financial Times has this,
All of these numbers have just been released, but police from four different countries are already involved with more suspects and illegal money still expected. This is turning into the kind of criminal gang ring you see in movies."This is without a doubt the biggest fraud scandal to ever hit European football,” said Peter Limacher of the Union of European Football Associations. “We are deeply shocked."
The game is dirty folks, that's just how it is. But if UEFA and FIFA can handle this the right way, it would be a huge statement for other organizing bodies that match-fixing can be taken care of.
November 16, 2009
Backwards Pass: Van Persie
Ehh WHAT
No, RVP, you're only kind of right actually. If it doesn't hurt, it's still fucking creepy as hell.
*Edit
"Van Persie will fly to Serbia to have the treatment, performed by a female doctor, following a recommendation from PSV Eindhoven striker Danko Lazovic.
Van Persie was stretchered off in the 10th minute of Holland's goalless friendly encounter with Italy after a challenge from Giorgio Chiellini.
"She is vague about her methods but I know she massages you using fluid from a placenta.
"I'm going to try. It cannot hurt and if it helps, it helps."
No, RVP, you're only kind of right actually. If it doesn't hurt, it's still fucking creepy as hell.
*Edit
October 5, 2009
Backwards Pass: No Love Lost
(photo soccernet.com)
It's more of a reflection of Dunne's character that he did not celebrate the opening goal against is former team, than it is a reflection of the game. It just seems lately that all of this "old team that I bled for, the fans made me leave, Sir Alex didn't say I was his favorite" nonsense is somehow constantly focused around City.
Enough of it, you have every right to celebrate it. Appropriately. No sprinting the length of the field. No restrained celebration. No saying before the match has even begun that you will overly celebrate your goal on purpose and then not even score in the derby.
September 13, 2009
Backwards Pass: Adebayor
I can measure this man's charm and character with one hand.
After the game, he told reporters that he was sorry for stamping on Van Persie's face and his goal celebration in front of the Arsenal supporters, who he loves to pick and prod at.
After the game, he told reporters that he was sorry for stamping on Van Persie's face and his goal celebration in front of the Arsenal supporters, who he loves to pick and prod at.
"I just got caught up in everything. I want to say sorry for what I did, it is important for people to understand that.
"I am so happy to score for City, I have scored in every Premier League game and I'm proud of my record."
Gunners' manager Wenger, though, was far from forgiving after the match.
He said: "I can't assess Adebayor's performance and I haven't seen the incident with Van Persie.
"His celebration was not of the biggest elegance but I can't control that."(Newsoftheworld)
August 13, 2009
Backwards Pass
China is an intriguing case study. For a nation of such historical legacy and future potential, they have been able to produce some fantastic athletes. Just look at the past Beijing Olympics, and you can tell that for every sport, there is at least one Chinese person among 4 billion that is good at it. Yet, among all the sports, from gymnastics to swimming, to even basketball, China has consistently failed miserably when it comes to football. I mean, it's mind boggling how disgraceful and truly talentless any sort of football is in China, from the Chinese Super League to the national team.
The thing is, everyone in China knows this. There is a saying that even the mothers of the coaches and players wouldn't watch their sons play. The image and reputation of football in China is tarnished by consistent fan violence, player violence, and horrid sportsmanship. Even the Chinese FA knows they have their work cut out for them.
So it's no surprise, that during a match between Beijing Guoan and Tianjin Teda, who are fairly large rivals in the CSL, after some harsh calls from the referee, not one, or two, but at least eight players and one club official were involved in a fracas. At least one player chased down the referee. You can clearly see in the video that the referee is running for his life, as police and stewards stand about dumbly.
After all the dust had settled, and the match referee had gone home to change his shorts, the Chinese FA swiftly laid down the law. The main aggressor, as seen in the video chasing the referee a-la-Michael Ballack, was handed a lifetime ban from competition in China. The goalkeeper and a midfielder were given three year bans. China Daily also reports,
"Two other players were banned for 30 months; two received two-year bans; one was booted for 10 matches and another for five matches. An official from Tianjin was also banned for a year."
Since most of the players are young and in their early 20's these bans effectively end their careers and dreams of playing for their country. But really, you think 5 or 6 long-term bans is going to clean up the football scene in China. It is after all a communist state. Cut off their feet! Sell their possesions! Put them into the Nike and Addidas sweatshops to make socks and boots!
I for one find this frustrating. It's clear there is talent in China. Li Tie, Sun Jihai. Even look at Dong Fangzhou and Yu Dabao. If China really wants to make the most of the potential they have, it's about time clubs and organizations change the way they think about the game. No more red cards or lifetime bans. The next temper tantrum, send them to prison in outer Mongolia. Football would be better for it.
August 11, 2009
Backwards Pass
After six years of defensive action for Newcastle, Steven Taylor had this to say.
"I've read every week that next week Alan is going to be named manager. Then Joe Kinnear is going to get the job, then Kevin Keegan and then Alan Shearer again. I don't get it. The club is a joke." football365
Well then.
Most people couldn't be pressed to think of a better way to cut ties with a club. But with the way things have been going in the northeast, this is hardly a surprise. In fact, it's almost as if we've been waiting for someone to just come out and say it. So really, the first step towards a healthy recovery is recognizing your club is a ridiculous laughing stock sham. Just ask Obafemi Martins.
It happens to the best of us at some point. Once you've hit rock bottom, you've got nowhere to go but up. Just a minor set back really, they'll be back where they belong in no time. Right?
Oh wait. Leeds United. Right.
Edit: Oh man, this just gets worse. Playmaker winger Jonas has just come out to 'vow that he joins the exodus out of Newcastle'. You can't really blame him, as he will be looking to cement his place in the Argentina squad for a World Cup ticket. Goodbye miserable cold and horrendous football, hello Greek sunshine.
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