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I’m Already Sick Of Writing About This

No picture for this post, because I can’t stand looking at that growth on Eddie Gaven’s face.

Attention:John Harkes

Temo Blanco is not the only player who dives in MLS.  Does he dive…a lot?  Yes, and even as a Fire fan I can safely say it’s annoying at the very least.

As a commetator, you are paid to be impartial.  To call Eddie Gaven’s supreme acts of flopping a “slight embellishment” while discussing Blanco’s apparent high center of gravity and saying thing like “it really takes away from the positive aspects of his game,” is a disgrace.

And Blanco’s bitching and moaning didn’t even result in a goal.

Can I make myself anymore clear?  White people dive too.  English people dive.  Americans dive.  Get fucking used to it, and maybe call it what it is.

Oh, and if anyone else want’s Eddie’s phone number and address…see me after class.

Ugly little cunt.


I Am Not A Fan of Yours, Steven Gerrard



What are the odds this makes major news on any site other than Football365, who seem to have a solid head on their collective, proverbial, adjective shoulders?  And even then, someone is going to write some inane column or letter in defense of this garbage.

The fact is, Gerrard is English, and plays for Liverpool.  He’s also a bit thick.  And a bit of a cunt.  But it’s those first two that matter most.

You get xenophobia in pretty much every league in the world, but England (and Spain I guess, let’s be fair here) seem to have a real knack for a widespread, almost institutionalized distrust of the “foreign influence” on the game.

As an aside, make a mental list of, maybe, the 25 best Prem players ever.  There’s your “foreign influence” right there.

But, to so many in England, it seems that playacting, cheating, diving, faffing about, and what have you, are all strictly within the domain of the foreign players. Steven Gerrard, that Scouse bastard that he is, has proven time and time again that this is a world disease.

Obviously, diving needs to stop.  But the blind eye it seems that “Stevie G” gets from so many sections of the English media needs to stop too.

…Oh, and I guess this post means I’m back.  Again.


The Season Starts Now

….OK, yesterday, and a further OK to “several leagues in Europe.”

Aside from maybe baseball (I’m sorry, I don’t buy into “opening day magic” in a 162-game season), there are few more exciting sporting days for me than season-opening weekends, and we’ve got a few across the Continent this weekend.

The Football League started up, with the Premier League next weekend, and for me it’s already been a pretty decent start. Charlton beat promoted Swansea 2-0, which frankly isn’t quite a good enough result for me, but after such a dismal campaign last season I’m fine with three points, no matter what the score. This is, as widely publicized, the Addick’s last season of parachute payments, so if they don’t make it stick we could be stuck in the Soda Jerk League for far, far too long. We all know the ramifications of not bouncing back up…Leicester, anyone? It’s been a painfully quiet summer on the transfer front in SE7, so in all honesty my south London brethren could very well be “enjoying” trips to magical Barnsley for a while, yet.

Rangers made up for their absolute clusterfuck of a Champion’s League “campaign” (fuck the heck, no they didn’t) by beating a strong Falkirk side 1-0, and PSG suffered a (somewhat promising) early season setback against Monaco.

This is an incredibly basic post as I didn’t actually see any of the games in question, though I DID see the Fire’s incredible comeback win at New England…what the fuck was Reis complaining about on Conde’s goal, anyway? I’ll let Arriaga talk about that if he wants, as he knows much more about the Fire than me.

Keep it locked here, hopefully between Arriaga and myself we catch plenty of Olympic action.

Until then, enjoy one of the greatest finishes to a match I’ve ever seen (HT: The Offside)

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Welcome Back YCIR, and Welcome Back PSG

It's time to wake up this sleeping giant

It's time to wake up this sleeping giant

So, we’ve been gone for a while here at the Your Club Is Rubbish HQ (Current location: my parent’s spare bedroom, Aurora, IL).  I’ll spare you my own explanation as to where the hell I’ve been, but for the sake of keeping up appearances I’ll say it involved copious amounts of liquor, thick-cut drugs, pills, loose cash and foreign hookers (you pick the nationality, it’s not important to me).

Before I get onto the meat-and-potatoes of this post, let me address a few things that have absolutely nothing to do with the focus of this blog entry – the upcoming resurgence of my beloved Paris Saint-Germain.

-the prospect of getting a colonoscopy at 22 is not very exciting

-TNA Wrestling is absolutely unwatchable, I am missing ROH’s next Chicago visit due to work, but Summerslam is actually worth paying for this year.

-How fucking old is Khujo Goodie?  That dude looks at least 50 in his newest video.  Jesus, man, the streets have not been kind to you.

-The new Prodigy video is keeping in step with his other recent stuff and is raw and disturbing as hell, while the first N.E.R.D. video I’ve seen off the new album is a mindfuck.

Alright then, follow the jump for some high hopes for this year’s Ligue 1 season.

Continue reading ‘Welcome Back YCIR, and Welcome Back PSG’


you know what? fuck you, bolton.

Seriously, Bolton.

Fuck you.

One, I’ve seen you in all your post-WW2 English architectural glory.  You are hideous.  And your football team reflects this.

Yes, I predicted Atletico to win the entire UEFA Cup.  Why shouldn’t I?  Why should I think that some awful hoof-ball, bullshit team would beat them out?

 …because that’s exactly what happened.  It’s exactly what happened you…you pricks.  1-0 at home and 0-0 away?  What a fucking surprise, Bolton.

Fun fact: “Bolton” takes its name from an ancient Gaelic word meaning “those with passable sporting abilities with shit entertainment value.”

 Postscript: Don’t worry Sagnol…you’ll get yours.


the completely glamour-less glamour of the uefa cup

The UEFA Cup Round of 32 was announced today, and I can’t help but be a little more enthused than I am about…well, anything involving the Champion’s League.

Here’s a list of fixtures I deem interesting after the jump:

Continue reading ‘the completely glamour-less glamour of the uefa cup’


An Undeserved Pat On The Back

This past Sunday marked the 148th Derby in the history of Manchester football – a rivalry that has been talked about to death in the last few weeks (sidenote: ManU – Liverpool > ManU – Man City).  It’s always a good game, and there’s some real enmity there.  This month’s fixture at Old Trafford was especially notable in that this past Wednesday marked the 50th Anniversary of the Munich Air Disaster, a tragedy that was, indeed, felt on both the red and blue halves of the city thanks to the death of Frank Smith, former City goalkeeper.

Let’s be blunt: if you follow English football, especially if you follow United, you’ve heard about this.  This is not a eulogizing post, so let’s move right the fuck along, shall we?

There has been much celebration all over the football media today about the impeccable behavior of the “traveling” City supporters during the much-ballyhooed minute’s silence that took place at Old Trafford before kick-off.  City manager Sven-Goran Eriksson didn’t hesitate at all to heap plaudits onto his team’s fans for, essentially, shutting the fuck up.

Am I the only one who sees something tangibly wrong with this?  Believe me…I’m all for hatred.  I’m no hooligan wannabe, but I do think the modern game is too sterile.  I celebrated and sang about how Croydon isn’t really London (alone, in my room, watching the teletext feed) when Charlton did the double over Crystal Palace this past Friday.  I’ve decided against dating girls simply because they are Chicago Cubs fans.  But honestly.  There is a big, fat, fucking Magnum-drawn line between sporting hatred and class.

Let’s run with the Cubs-Sox analogy for a minute here.  Let’s say, in some freak accident, half the Cubs team happens to die.  In this next season’s interleague game, a minute’s silence is observed.  I hate the Cubs.  Hate.   Hate.  Would I say anything?  Fuck.  No.  Why?  Because this kind of thing transcends sports – it’s a matter of human respect and decency.  I don’t care if you’re some meatheaded lager-swilling lout from Macclesfield (I apologize, I couldn’t think of any City-supporting areas of Manchester offhand), if you can’t possibly keep your trap shut for a minute just because the young men who died fifty years ago wore a different shirt than your boys…then there’s no hope for you.

So, congratulations, fans of Manchester City.  Congratulations on, uh…being human?  Normal?  Maybe I’m missing a key component of English football psychology here, but the fact that so many people are visibly elated by this is trouble.  Have we really slipped that low?  Or am I just a better person than I give myself credit for?

July 2018
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