Right, as NurseEvy has perceptively pointed out, now we know that pictures of puppies brings lots of beautiful women to my blog, I am going to completely blot my copybook now and talk about football. Even worse, not the be-helmeted kind, but the type you US folk refer to as soccer, so most of you will have no frame of reference whatsoever. I make no apologies.
Because some things are even more important than having my ego massaged, and one of those things was the wonderful battle my beloved Manchester City put up last night, before finally going out to Hamburg in the quarter-finals of the UEFA cup. To see that stadium full to bursting and the roar of the crowd as they sang 'Blue Moon'! It brought tears to my eyes. You don't believe me?
And on a night when the supporters demanded a performance far in excess of the recent lacklustre showings, all the players delivered. Elano and Robinho with their dazzling Brazilian magic, Richard Dunne, with some crushing defensive tackles (made my shins ache just to watch), Shay Given's wonderful saves. And Mica Richards at right-back, so exhausted he could barely walk, let alone run, at the end of the match.
We won on the night, but lost on the aggregate score to a brilliant Hamburg side. But I am SO PROUD of my team! Bring on those smug bastards at Manchester United and we'll give you a derby day to remember!
If this seems so completely esoteric to you, just imagine walking towards a stadium with all your fellow supporters, old and young, men and women, their scarves around their necks; the excitement and anticipation. Stopping to buy a cardiac inducing portion of pie and chips. The stadium gradually filling. The music starts 'Right here, Right now!', as the teams emerge. The groans as a ball cracks against the cross bar, the screams of anger when a foul is spotted, shouting at the referee's inept decisions, the sheer eruption of 47,500 people as the ball is buried in the net. Barracking the visiting fans - 'Shall we sing a song for you?'. The nerves when you have only three minutes left on the clock to score THAT goal. The delight or gloom at the end of the match, as you tramp away from the ground.
And for 90 minutes of your week, you are allowed to hate. Hate the opposition, hate the performance, hate the decisions that go against you, hate the visiting fans. An undercurrent of passion and buried violence is always there, and people burn off the injustices in their lives shouting and singing, threatening and cursing. In a sanitised world, it's a visceral experience, and all the better for it.
Damn, I love my team. 'Bloooo Moon! You saw me standing alone!..........'
http://www.mcfc.co.uk/default.sps
I confidently expect no comments now, but I'm still very happy! For all those pining for puppies, I will try not to disappoint!
Because some things are even more important than having my ego massaged, and one of those things was the wonderful battle my beloved Manchester City put up last night, before finally going out to Hamburg in the quarter-finals of the UEFA cup. To see that stadium full to bursting and the roar of the crowd as they sang 'Blue Moon'! It brought tears to my eyes. You don't believe me?
And on a night when the supporters demanded a performance far in excess of the recent lacklustre showings, all the players delivered. Elano and Robinho with their dazzling Brazilian magic, Richard Dunne, with some crushing defensive tackles (made my shins ache just to watch), Shay Given's wonderful saves. And Mica Richards at right-back, so exhausted he could barely walk, let alone run, at the end of the match.
We won on the night, but lost on the aggregate score to a brilliant Hamburg side. But I am SO PROUD of my team! Bring on those smug bastards at Manchester United and we'll give you a derby day to remember!
If this seems so completely esoteric to you, just imagine walking towards a stadium with all your fellow supporters, old and young, men and women, their scarves around their necks; the excitement and anticipation. Stopping to buy a cardiac inducing portion of pie and chips. The stadium gradually filling. The music starts 'Right here, Right now!', as the teams emerge. The groans as a ball cracks against the cross bar, the screams of anger when a foul is spotted, shouting at the referee's inept decisions, the sheer eruption of 47,500 people as the ball is buried in the net. Barracking the visiting fans - 'Shall we sing a song for you?'. The nerves when you have only three minutes left on the clock to score THAT goal. The delight or gloom at the end of the match, as you tramp away from the ground.
And for 90 minutes of your week, you are allowed to hate. Hate the opposition, hate the performance, hate the decisions that go against you, hate the visiting fans. An undercurrent of passion and buried violence is always there, and people burn off the injustices in their lives shouting and singing, threatening and cursing. In a sanitised world, it's a visceral experience, and all the better for it.
Damn, I love my team. 'Bloooo Moon! You saw me standing alone!..........'
http://www.mcfc.co.uk/default.sps
I confidently expect no comments now, but I'm still very happy! For all those pining for puppies, I will try not to disappoint!
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
Thank you for the link.. I love the texture.. although I am a Monet fan as well.