Showing posts with label evil divers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label evil divers. Show all posts

Thursday, May 7, 2009

LEAVE TOM HENNING ØVREBØ ALOOOOONE!


LEAVE HIM ALONE! You are lucky he even performed for you BASTARDS!
LEAVE ØVREBØ ALONE!…..Please.


You know what, Didier Drogba? I could not agree with you more. What we saw at Stamford Bridge yesterday, both during and after the game, was indeed "a f#$%cking disgrace!" The diving belle of Chelsea's attack put on an unprecedented show of postgame histrionics, and that's saying a lot considering the flopping and whining that mark just about every game in European footy these days.

I've never seen an athlete-- a professional athlete... an adult!-- carry on like that or scream obscenities INTO THE CAMERA on the field. Quite simply, it took the beloved drama we've come to expect from these European games and warped it all into some dark, stupid maudlinism. "Dream Team" would've written off Drogba's performance as too kitschy. But the rot goes deeper...

Precious Roy did a pretty comprehensive recap of the Chelsea players' commentary back at 10 am. Naturally, their anger, the frustration of once again crashing out of the CL in spectacular fashion, has triggered some less than professional, if not downright ugly responses by the players, Drogba of course being the prime culprit. Nevermind the referee missed as many calls for the Blues as he did for Barca-- who actually had a man sent off. Chelsea's loss was their own, and Drogba's rage should be directed at a mirror, not a camera.

But this isn't about Chelsea. It isn't about Barcelona. It's not about Gerry Pique's hand or Eto'o's elbow.

It is about the constant nattering that follows, and often precedes every big match. It's either Ferguson, or Benitez, or Wenger, or _______, or all of them, all at the same time, playing these [cue: euphemism] mindgames... and when the game is done and the score settled, so begins Act Two: the recriminations and posturing and blame.

And it's all centered on one man. The lowly referee. Corrupt scourge. Impotent blowhard. In this case, it's Tom Henning Øvrebø, the overmatched knucklehead who, by various estimates, failed to do his job properly between four and 424 times in 90+3 minutes yesterday in London.

Is it possible that Øvrebø and all his colleagues are just THAT BAD? Perhaps there are just not enough decent officials in all the sporting world to continue playing these games?

Or maybe, just maybe, today's players have made it impossible for guys like Øvrebø to do their jobs. Swans like Drogba and Ronaldo and Henry (in the WC Final, no less) and a million other footballers in a million different games from the Prem down to the Conference and all the way out to Turkey have made such a habit of dropping and whinging that it must be impossible for a single human being to distinguish the real infractions from the embellishment and playacting. In the end, it has a chilling effect on the ref and his willingness to blow his whistle and point to the spot.

Øvrebø should look at the ball bounce calmly into Pique's outstretched hand and make his call without a thought... a reflex move like Valdes flashing his arm to deflect Drogba's free kick. Yes, there is some nuance to the decision, but I promise you it was not the fine print of the rule book that clouded the Norwegian's gleaming dome. He was asking himself, "Did I really see what I just saw?" And whatever the answer, by the moment it was settled, too much time had passed. The play had moved on and the whistle, swallowed.

So please, leave Tom Henning Øvrebø aloooooone! He's a creation of our game. To hate him is to hate all modern football.

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Monday, July 28, 2008

It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World!


Stop the World, I want to get off! I thought I'd seen it all...

- Over 50% of the U.S voting population re-elected George Bush in 2004.

- Every winter, truck Drivers transport 6 tons worth of supplies at a time over 300 miles on frozen lakes.

- People actually bought Taylor Hicks records.

- Spurs are playing in the UEFA cup this year, and people actually paid good money to see this movie...

But no, something more incredible has happened....Fulham are paying Everton 13 million quid for Andrew 'Submarine' Johnson. 13 million pounds for a guy who runs around the pitch like a headless chicken before conning the ref that he actually had a chance to score when he completes a triple twist somersault unlike any you will see in Beijing this Summer.

If this guy is worth 13 million then Robbie Keane's move to Liverfourth should be trebled. 100 million for Kaka is starting to look like a right old bargain. 11 million smackers for Crouch? Sale of the f------ century.

Bigus... it sounds like you really loathe this Johnson fellow?



I actually do...For a couple of reasons. One, he dived in injury time of a game (the penultimate) for Palace against Norwich, winning a penalty and securing a point for Palace, robbing City of 3 points that would have meant Premiership survival for Bigus' super Canaries! And... two, I cannot bare to see a diver wearing the England shirt. It makes me want to vomit.

Even with my partial opinion of submarine Johnson, I have sought my soul and still find it reasonable to attack this transfer as a sign of the apocalypse, an indication that money in football has spiraled out of control and a decent clue that Fulham manager Roy Hodgson couldn't spot a talented player if he was transported here or here.

So what are Fulham getting for 13 million quid? Well you will get 1 goal every 4 games, many of which are penalties of course. Johnson scored a record 8 penalties in Crystal Palace's relegation season of 2005. They are getting a player who has no credibility and has been criticized by many managers for his talent of finding the floor in the box.

Jose Mourinho famously called Johnson "untrustworthy" after a game in Dec 2006. Neil Warnock accused him of "gamesmanship" after he had won a penalty against Sheffield United.

But Jose, Warnock and old Bigus are all nuts right? He doesn't really dive more often than the red arrows?

I'll leave you with this...



-Bigus.

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