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| Що не сравните изказванията на ветерани на ЦСКА и видни фенове и деятели със бръщолевенето на играчите и Тройчо? Ники САМО ЛЕВСКИ |
| Имаш предвид Иван Колев, който нарече играчите на цС*ка "ПЪЛНИ БЕЗДАРНИЦИ" ли? Ами прав си е човекът! |
с риск back отново да не ми говори 4 месеца, да се опитаме да погледнем на нещата от по-забавната им страна. What happened was, Chris Roberts bought a sugar mouse from Jack Reynolds (“The Rock King”), bit its head off, dropped it in the Newmarket Road before he could get started on the body, and it got run over by a car. And that afternoon Cambridge United, who had hitherto been finding life difficult in the Second Division (two wins all season, one home, one away), beat Orient 3-1, and a ritual was born. Before each home game we all of us trooped into the sweet shop, purchased our mice, walked outside, bit the head off as though we were removing the pin from a grenade, and tossed the torsos under the wheels of oncoming cars; Jack Reynolds would stand in the doorway watching us, shaking his head sorrowfully. United, thus protected, remained unbeaten at the Abbey for months. I know that I am particularly stupid about rituals, and have been ever since I started going to football matches, and I know also that I am not alone. I can remember when I was young having to take with me to Highbury a piece of putty, or blu-tack, or some stupid thing, which I pulled on nervously all afternoon (I was a smoker even before I was old enough to smoke); I can also remember having to buy a programme from the same programme seller, and having to enter the stadium through the same turnstile. There have been hundreds of similar bits of nonsense, all designed to guarantee victories for one or other of my two teams. During Arsenal’s protracted and nerve-racking semi-final campaign against Liverpool in 1980, I turned the radio off half-way through the second half of the last game; Arsenal were winning 1-0, and as Liverpool had equalised in the last seconds of the previous game, I couldn’t bear to hear it through to the end. I played a Buzzcocks album instead (the Singles – Going Steady compilation album), knowing that side one would take me through to the final whistle. We won the match, and I insisted that my flatmate, who worked in a record store, should play the album at twenty past four on Cup Final afternoon, although it did no good. (I have my suspicions that he might have forgotten.) I have tried “smoking” goals in (Arsenal once scored as three of us were lighting cigarettes), and eating cheese-and-onion crisps at a certain point in the first half; I have tried not setting the video for live games (the team seems to have suffered badly in the past when I have taped the matches in order to study the performance when I get home); I have tried lucky socks, and lucky shirts, and lucky hats, and lucky friends, and have attempted to exclude others who I feel bring with them nothing but trouble for the team. Nothing (apart from the sugar mice) has ever been any good. But what else can we do when we’re so weak! We invest hours each day, months each year, years each lifetime in something over which we have no control; is it any wonder then, that we are reduced to creating ingenious but bizarre liturgies designed to give us the illusion that we are powerful after all, just as every other primitive community has done when faced with a deep and apparently impenetrable mystery? |
ARSENAL v EVERTON 19.1.91 A little-known fact: football fans knew before anybody else that the Gulf War had started. We were sat in front of the TV, waiting for the highlights of the Chelsea-Tottenham Rumbelows Cup-tie just before midnight, when Nick Owen looked at his monitor, announced a newsflash, and expressed the hope that we would be able to go to Stamford Bridge shortly. (The report of the game in the Daily Mirror made peculiar reading the next morning, incidentally, given the circumstances: “Wave after wave of attacks left Tottenham hanging on for grim life”, that kind of thing.) ITV beat the BBC to the news by several minutes. Like most people, I was frightened: by the possibility of nuclear and chemical weapons being used; of Israel’s involvement; of hundreds of thousands of people dying. By three o’clock on the Saturday afternoon, sixty-three hours after the start of the conflict, I was more discombobulated than I can recall being at the start of a football match: I’d watched too much late-night television, and dreamed too many strange dreams. There was a different buzz in the crowd, too. The North Bank chanted “Saddam Hussein is a homosexual” and “Saddam run from Arsenal”. (The first message is scarcely in need of decoding; in the second, “Arsenal” refers to the fans rather than the players. Which makes the chant self-aggrandising, rather than ridiculing, and which paradoxically reveals a respect for the Iraqi leader absent in the speculation about his sexual preferences. A consistent ideology is probably too much to ask for.) It was an interesting experience, watching a football match with the world at war; one I had never had before. How was Highbury to become the centre of the universe, with a million men preparing to kill each other a thousand miles away? Easy. Merse’s goal just after half-time earned us a 1-0 win, which would not in itself have been enough to distract attention away from Baghdad; but when Warren Barton’s free-kick got Wimbledon a result up at Anfield, and we went top of the League for the first time that season, everything became focused again. Eight points behind in December and one point clear in January … By a quarter to five, Saddam was forgotten, and Highbury was humming. |
Е сега к'во - да откъснем главата на Тодоров и да я хвърлим под някой валяк ли?  Освен това неща, които са подходящи за "онова място" едва ли биха помогнали другаде. |
поне една усмивчица да беше сложил в края на втория си постинг. или да се ориентирам към безличните изречения? |
| БатЖоро, добре си го чаршафосал, ама не ми се вярваше, че и ти може да придаваш такова митологично значение на единия от двата ви хикса на Герена тази пролет. То вярно, голяма суша там ( и не само там) ви гони в любимите преки двубои на дон Атлети, ама чак такъв врял и кипял като тебе фен, силничко е. Имам една голяма молба към тебе и всички останали цесекари. Не искайте оставката на "Тройчо Геренски" до 2.11., дайте му шанс да бъде повишен. Виж колко по-хубаво звучи - Осморчо Геренски. Но, шегата настрана, след вчера, дори и пак да ви бием, какво от това. Още една победа и без това унизителния баланс, с нея и без нея, при този антифутбол, ми е през "оная работа". Благодаря на Джак за копирания материaл. Страхотно четиво. Де да можеха и нашите журналисти така да пишат. |
и последно: How is your psyche affected, when you commit yourself for a lifetime to the team that everybody loves to hate? Are football fans like the dogs that come to resemble their masters? Emphatically, yes. The West Ham fans I know have an innate sense of underdog moral authority, the Tottenham fans give off an air of smug, ersatz sophistication, the Manchester United fans are imbued with a frustrated grandeur, Liverpool fans are simply grand. And as for Arsenal fans … It is impossible to believe that we have remained unaffected by loving what the rest of the world regards as fundamentally unlovablе. Ever since 15th March 1969, I have been aware of the isolation my team induces, maybe even demands. My partner believes that my tendency to adopt an attitude of beleaguered defiance at each minor setback or perceived act of disloyalty has been learned from Arsenal, and she may be right. Like the club, I am not equipped with a particularly thick skin; my oversensitivity to criticism means that I am more likely to pull up the drawbridge and bitterly bemoan my lot than I am to offer a quick handshake and get on with the game. In true Arsenal style, I can dish it out but I can’t take it. Редактирано от - ulysses на 25/9/2003 г/ 14:16:17 |
Затварят масово мандри и фурни Над 70 на сто от фурните, мандрите и консервните фабрики у нас ще бъдат затворени, ако трябваше сега да влезем в ЕС. Причината е, че те не отговарят на изискванията на Евросъюза, съобщи председателят на Българската асоциация на хранителната и питейната индустрия Александър Йоцев. Значи и Цецианалспор, ше требе да я затворим |
| Добро утро. Не съм гледал мачовете, щото нямам азиатска и българска телевизия, не съм чел и коментарите, но ще коментирам резултатите. 1. 1914 - приятната изненада. Сори за клишето 2. ЦСКА - аз бях предвидил загуба, ама и там стана изненада |
| Новобранец се хвана на бас с гаджето си дали ще го дочака да се върне от казармата Бившият възпитаник на Електротехникума в Благоевград и доскорошна футболна надежда на “Пирин” Методи Киров даде старт на новобранските за сезона. С бас между донаборника и гаджето му дали ще го дочака, докато е в бойните редици, започна новобранската вечер и се превърна в невероятен бурен купон, продължил до сутринта и преминал през всички дискотеки. Гостите се зарекоха да направят още по-бурен купон, след като Методи излезе от...    |