Sick As A Parrot

When it goes down it goes down big and it goes down hard. Some might say there are none that go down better than Martin but that's a topic for another blog, and possibly not footballing related. Comments like that should ensure a higher hit rate with the search engines though. When the two footballing giants of the modern era line up against each other it's more than bragging rights that are at stake. Now I'm not talking 'Rumble in the Jungle' level of intensity here, perhaps 'Mumble in the Mud' or 'Grumble on the Grass' but it's still big. You get one shot at taking down your arch rivals per season and this was the weekend it went down. In the white corner: Martin 'Ladies Man', David 'The Rock' and Me 'No name' up against Paul 'Chelsea Chelsea Chelsea', James 'Hit man' and Phil 'Interesting'. If we could only win one game this season then this was the one. Phil throwing off the shackles, and shunni...

Martin leapt out of bed on Sunday morning and decided that today was going to be a great day. Heck what am I talking about he thought, everyday is a great day. Checking himself in the mirror - hair perfect, teeth dazzling, skin unblemished he prepared for the game. After a quick cuppa tea and some breakfast he set off, via my place, to the match . Giving me a ride is an act of charity on his part but I'm grateful to be in the presence of such greatness and it's my forlorn hope that just some small fraction of his ability would rub off on me. Having arrived early I plod towards the pitch whilst Martin does a couple of quick laps and proceeds through his warm up routine - consisting of a one man ball juggling act, shots on goal and the full array of calisthenics. I managed to tie both sets of laces and point myself in the right direction on the pitch. The game got underway and Martin, wearing his white boots, looked like he was gliding on the wings of Pegasus. He has grace but al...

It was brought to my attention this week, by a section of the readership, that I've been picking on Martin and that I should ease up on him. It appears I've been giving him a, perhaps, undeserved hard time and I shouldn't be so eager to do so in the future. This section of the readership was quite adamant on this point and delivered this information to me not in electronic form but to my face. My, these Martin devotees are a tough bunch. How best to characterize this section of the readership? For the want of a better phrase lets call them Martins female fan club. Yes, that's right, he's got the ladies speaking up for him. And know this - I will name names if I'm pressured. Since I was so roundly turned on this week, I therefore need to delay this weeks official posting till I can compose a piece that doesn't draw the ire of this fierce group of critics. Be patient readers the piece is forthcoming.

There a few things in life you need to experience in order to consider your life well lived. Amongst these is the drunken walk home with a mate proclaiming love, in a manly bloke like manner of course. Not that there's anything wrong with the other 2 blokes loving each other kind of love, but... Also a big greasy fry up the morning after... has got to be on the list. The morning after many things in fact. The big greasy fry up both kick starts and celebrates a great weekend. I suppose some sexual accomplishments should also be listed in amongst ones life achievements but yet again I'm deviating. Constraining ourselves to things of a footballing nature I reckon you want to make sure you do the following: 1. Score a goal - obvious really but there a loads of variations to this: the bullet shot, side foot, a curler, one-on-one etc. 2. Put through a defence splitting pass - ideally leading to a goal but hey you've done your bit and if those lazy mothers who call themselves forw...

For a proper background to this post feel free to read the previous post which can be found here Continuing on... Well if you haven't yet figured out that I finally scored then you've not been keeping up with matters of a footballing nature. Describing this momentous occasion in excruciating detail is actually harder than you would think esp given that this is not a regular occurrence. Time moves remarkably quickly when you score and yet when you miss a goal it slows down in direct proportion to the relative ease of the chance. What this means is that the joy of your stunning footballing ability, tactical nous that got you in the right place at the right time, the technical wizardry that allowed you to connect a foot with a ball and precision by which you slotted said ball into the only place the goalkeeper couldn't get to, all hurtles by in a fleeting moment. However, should you miss an open goal, as happened not 20 minutes later, then the horrifying realization that yes y...

Bowing to public pressure the story continues.... The begining of the story can be found here Martin "3 halves and I'm off", living up to this weekends nickname and remember these are short halves, cleared off early having to attend a soirée. He's a bit posh of course (remember he's got white boots) so while we attend BBQ's he goes to soirées. I have an invite around to his for dinner in a couple of weeks and I'm already brushing up on my elocution Phil "3 games no problem" did the decent thing and stuck around even putting himself in goal when no one volunteered. There's an interesting phenomena with the Sunday league, which is particularly evident for pickup games, and that is that no one really wants to be in goal. Invariably 11 players trot out onto the pitch and when the refs demand that someone go in goal everyone just stands there. There's a peculiar skill, which I have almost perfected, which involves looking around but not catch...

Yep it finally happened folks and I'll leave this as a teaser until I gather my thoughts and complete the post.

It had to happen really and it follows the basic ying and yang thang, what goes around comes around, Murphy’s law etc etc etc. You give someone/thing some gip (beating up on someone, for the Americans amongst you) and they turn around and rub your nose in it. The league is over but there are still games to be played. The order of the day was pickup games whereby the format is continuous games with shorter halves to ensure higher turnover of players. No subs during the halves but wholesale changes at the end of the half if players are around. Martin turned up complaining that ankle hadn't properly healed and he had to go early. This is called getting the excuses in early and since it was apparent he hadn't read last weeks post I let it go. Waiting to come on he noted an opportunity that went begging and proclaimed that he would have been on the end of that. Remember the footballing gods folks... We get our turn to come on and take up our positions - central midfield for Martin, ...