In a season marred by contentious referring decisions, the rakish move of unibrowed right-back Jose Bosingwa is perhaps the worst, as both Riley and the linesmen decided no action should be taken. In the insane world of the FA, the non-call on the pitch has rendered them impotent and unable to review and properly discipline Bosingwa, despite the fact that they set the rules and could/should probably change that particular clause so they can ban the lad for 10 games or so.
That said, the mercy shown to Bosingwa by Mo Matadar, aka the guy who was inches from the incident and shown on tape waving his flag like a man possessed, was not returned in kind, as the FA have dumped him down to League Two for a while.
Mo will be running the touchline at the Grimsby Town/Exeter match, where he'll no doubt realize the error of his ways and will perhaps learn to assert himself better on the pitch next time.
I do like that the FA punishes its staff for egregious errors on the pitch (still waiting for Riley's rebuke, by the way), but honestly, is this the right way to do it? Now all it means is that some poor, struggling lower league minnow is stuck with incompetence that could possibly ruin their game as well.
To further emphasize this point, the ref in Matadar's game will be Stuart Atwell, the moron who gave a goal even though it hit the side netting in a recent Reading/Watford Colaship clash.
So look out Mariners and Grecians fans, the failed officials are heading to your game.
Prepare rotten fruit/veg accordingly.
(In case you missed it the first time...)
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Mercy for Bosingwa is not bestowed upon the linesman
Friday, August 1, 2008
Championship Preview - Ip..Ip..Ip..Them.
Ipswich: Desolate town inhabited by rarely accepted mutants.
For those of you that are not familiar with the town of Ipswich I will help you along a bit with a brief history lesson.
Ipswich was founded in 1937 when a government transport tanker carrying nuclear waste accidentally hit a pot hole, swerved and overturned into a ditch. The tanker leaked and fire from the engine caused an almighty explosion that lit up the night sky for all to see. A no-go zone was created and scientists deemed the area to be extremely hazardous. Giant walls were immediately erected and the people behind the boundary were left to fend for themselves.
After 30 years scientists re-entered the disaster zone, which was named Suffolk after the suffocating smell that emanated from the area. Those brave scientists (later awarded M.B.E's) found that the entire population of the area had evolved into a new transmogrified breed of mutated humans.
Taking pity on the seemingly slow and unfortunate creatures a town was created for them to inhabit, and thus, Ipswich was born. Once the walls surrounding the town were removed in 1968, Suffolk 'folk' became victims of shocking abuse and prejudice from the rest of the country, stemming from fear of the unknown.
Map of Ipswich before the Wall was taken down.
Through Government assimilation, it was decided that the best thing to do to help the mutants of Ipswich fit in was to form a football club and allow them to enter the football league. Ipswich Town FC was formed. In 1969 the mutants of Ipswich kidnapped a successful manager named Bobby Robson. Not wishing to enter the town for fear of infection, Robson was sacrificed. He learned to tolerate the locals and actually won them the F.A Cup and the UEFA Cup. Robson was allowed to leave in 1982 to manage England, and was knighted by the Queen in 2002 for his bravery.
Ipswich Town play in a desolate location in a make shift 'stadium' called Portman Road, and the ground itself was built on the site of the tanker spill. Although now safe, fumes still affect the area and the mutants seem to still suffer effects from these fumes when they are at the site. Symptoms include monkey-like behaviour on match days and a repetitive chanting that no one can understand. Usually there is a large amount of flag waving at Portman Rd as the locals make use of their 3rd and 4th arms. So how will the team fare for its mutant people this year? Well last season chief mutant Marcus Evans bought the club. Evans is very wealthy and made his money selling nuclear waste to the government to be used by the Ministry of Defense. Evans has started to spend money on the team. Towards the end of last season they signed talented midfielder David Norris, and this off-season they re-acquired born and bred mutant native Richard Wright. Wright had tried to fit in at top flight clubs throughout his career and failed miserably, never truly being accepted at Arsenal, Everton or West Ham. Other notable signings this summer include Norwich and Colchester reject Kevin Lisbie. Lisbie scored just one goal for Norwich against Watford during a loan spell from Charlton in 2005, and was loaned 5 times beofre settling at Colchester. Ipswich will be his 8th club. Ipswich also signed Gareth McAuley from relegated Leicester and Pim Balkestein from Heerenveen. Outgoing players include Sylvan Legwinski, much hated loudmouth Fabian Wilnis, Shefki Kuqi(loan) and the aging Jason De Vos. Rumor has it that Ipswich may ALSO spend 5 million on Portsmouth failure David Nugent. Nugent will do very well in the Championship, but 5 million for a player who scored 0 goals for Porstmouth after a 7 million pound move from Preston is ridiculous. Still, better their money than mine! Ipswich supporters will fancy the playoffs this year, realistically they will finish in the bottom half of the table, where they really belong.
Today Ipswich compete in the Coca Cola Championship and have formed a fierce rivalry with the nearby (40 miles) mighty City of Norwich. When these two teams meet, the citizens of Norwich don face masks for fear of infection. Although clear of radiation, the face masks are a stark reminder and a taunt to Ipswich fans of their interesting history. A vaccine was actually administered to the entire country through the water supply in 1966 and since then Ipswich has been clear of infection.
Mighty Norwich City take on Ipswich Town.
-Bigus.
Monday, May 5, 2008
TWAG: The Joy of Six (Instead of the Joy of Cesc)
Six. That's how many of us there were for the Arsenal v. Everton kickoff on Sunday morning.
It was an irritatingly early start time, but that's really how heartbreaking this season was? Only six people—plus two more who wandered in about halftime—could be bothered.
Hell, Everton even had something to play for. One point would secure them a UEFA Cup spot. There's also the Gunner's 50-something game home unbeaten streak at the Emirates.
And fuck, there are only two games left in the season, then there's no more Arsenal futbol for literally months. Christ, shouldn't we all be squirrels out there collecting the remaining nuts no matter how shitty they might be because there aren't going to be any more for a while?
If nothing else, it was a chance just to watch and enjoy football. There were no nerves because Arsenal weren't moving out of third place. It was a rare opportunity to watch without having an irrational emotional attachment to every cross, every clearance. Lehmann could let another soft shot roll between his legs, and it would simply be a humorous and apropos farewell.
Turns out, though, detached spectating really is not that fun, even less so when it is compounded by massive disappointment of what might have been. Okay, it's a little fun when you are beating the shit out of Derby in a 6-2 scorgasm, and making them pay for a your season of second-half failure; but a listless 1-0 win over Everton where Song and Traore are maybe the best players on the pitch isn't much reward for fandom.
This must be what it's like to be a Tottenham fan. Before the games even kick off it doesn't really matter if you win or lose because when all is said and done, you're going to end up someplace mid-table, give or take.
But the shit does matter (or rather "matter" in a very relative sense—I can maintain perspective). That's what makes it worth dragging our asses out of bed when sane people are still sleeping off their hangovers (note to any European readers: fuck, it's hard sometimes being a fan of this game seven time zones away). Yeah, I'm still pissed at the non-call and the call in the Liverpool Champions League matches. And I'm even more pissed off at the shoddy defense after Adebayor leveled, but what's the point if you're not going to have strong emotional reactions? Sometimes you can't bring yourself to watch, but you can't make yourself look away.
There's a reason they keep score. And a good one. Meaningless matches are hardly worth it. Sure it's football, but it's like having drunk sex with an ex that you don't give a shit about anymore. It's slightly better than going home and rubbing one out, but it's not even close to what it feels like when you are nuts about the other person.
Plus it was a pretty lackluster match on both sides.
The best moment wasn't even on the field of play. At one point the Setanta cameras showed Helb, Fabregas, Flamini, and Rosicky all sitting right next to each other behind the bench. A fucking world class midfield—at least two of which have probably played their last match as Gunners—and all of them spectators.
I'd put even money down the camera man was a United fan having sadistic laugh. And he'd be right to.
Arsenal won. Yippee. Had the Prem still been up for grabs, the Gunners would have found a way to squander the lead and draw, though. Maybe that's the silver lining, had they still been in it a Sunday draw might have sucked the life force right out of me. But it's more of a sterling than a Britannia silver. When the expectations were low—much preseason punditry had the team finishing outside the top 4—Arsenal played loose and they won early and often. They didn't even drop a match until December 9, to 'Boro of all teams.
It wasn't until they Gunners found themselves five points clear atop the table that they began to look like deer, or rather fawn, in the Prem headlights and reeled off consecutive draws against (God this hurts) likely relegation fodder Birmingham City, Villa, bottom-halfers Wigan, and 'Boro.
Seriously, we only took one of six points from fucking Middlesbrough this year? I hope Gareth Southgate still wakes up with cold sweats reliving his missed PK from the 1996 Euro.
Even with all those dropped points, with a win at Stamford Bridge and a win at Old Tratford it was there for the taking and it was theirs for the taking. Instead Drogba decided to show up for the second half and give the Gunners a big "fuck you" for a going away present and Owen Hargreaves hit a ridiculous free kick nobody was expecting him to even take.
Credit to them. They beat us when it mattered. But it's also clear this Arsenal team didn't know how to play under pressure. That and they had to play Senderos probably a little too much to make anyone feel good. Maybe even Philippe himself.
So that's it. Had you told me before the season started that Arsenal would finish third I would gladly have taken it. But with only Sunderland left on the fixtures, I'm anything but glad. I will probably sleep in next week no matter what time kick is.
After the other Sunday match, I wanted to make myself feel better by taking a shot at the people looking up at us. For completely arbitrary reasons a buddy of mine adopted Liverpool as his EPL team to follow this year. I applaud him for trying to get into futbol by having a team to follow, but I also chided him for his choice. When I cracked on his pick in an email by calling them Liverfouth (which I admitted stole from some blog), he responded, "And how much worse is that than Thirdsenal?"
Ouch. The truth does indeed hurt... but only until the 2008-2009 season starts.
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