Showing posts with label carling cup. Show all posts
Showing posts with label carling cup. Show all posts

Friday, 27 February 2009

Hmmmmm....the more I think about it, the more I can't even see us scoring a goal. Ho hum. It's all got to be psychological. Positive thinking is what's necessary - we need 30,000 people thinking 'We can do it, we can do it. ' while the red corner's 30,000 start to think 'hang on a minute, we might get beat' and these vibes will transmit to the players and we'll get a lucky goal in off Ronaldo's arse and.... heck, who am I kidding? I bet they've engraved the bloody cup already.

Thursday, 19 February 2009

more in hope than expectation

We play Shaktar Doenetsk (not sure of spelling) tonight. Ominously, they were the last team to beat Barcelona about 20 games ago. We are without 9 first teamers. Ulp. On March 1st we play Man Yoo in the Carling Cup final. Our tickets are a few rows forward this year. If we keep getting to the final and our tickets move forward at the same rate, I should actually be able to see the game by 2013. I'll be interested to see the odds before the game. United are pretty unbeatable (by us at least) even when they are playing shite. At the moment they are playing like the whole team has been kitted out with sets of Tiger & Scorer patented 'Billy's Boots'. They may call them Nikes or whatever but there must be some subterfuge going on there.

It's been a while since my eyes glistened with pride in the team's passion and performance. I'll be blubbing like a baby if we do the impossible at Wembley. Just to put me in the mood I thought it was time to revisit a real magic time.

Wednesday, 23 January 2008

what just happened?


Gotta get home to watch the Chelski/ Everton game but couldn't resist sticking this up. Yeah I know we've had false dawns before and this is only 1 victory after years of draws and worse but, man, what a victory it was! I cried when the 5th one went in. The residue of years of hurt won't be washed away with one win for sure; I do feel at least partially cleansed though. All the petty talk of 'kids' and reserves makes me laugh- who are Adebayour, Hleb, fabregas, Eduardo, Gallas, Toure, Gilberto? What about Huddlestone, Lennon, Boatang, Cerny for Spurs? The myth Wenger tried to create was picked up by the media and its perpetuation helped put the team into a no lose situation. Until last night of course. They lost big time and they knew it- the dejection on their faces showed it mattered. The fight between Adebayour and Bendtner showed it. The score line showed it. Of course Wenger couldn't even bring himself to say the better team one. For God's sake, even Merson made no excuses and praised the Spurs fans.



The most important thing for me though is not reaching the final or the well deserved thumping that the arrogant boys from Woolwich got. No, it's the breaking of a hoodoo- Psychology is so important in football and if we can now put this one to bed, it could make the difference needed. It's amazing how many Spurs fans I spoke to last night and this morning were sure the Arses would get back into it even at 4-0. Any other team you'd have been certain of victory once the third one went in. After last night I am certain of this:



  • Bill Shankley was right



  • Wenger is the world's sorest loser



  • Berba can be a baby but he's got nothing on Adebayour who is still in the 'terrible twos' phase by the looks of things



  • Their fans are shocking- leaving after 70 mins is no way to support your club- when they stuffed Newcastle the Geordies stayed singing to the end.



  • I must get me and boy and my girl cup final tickets



  • I will chuckle every time I see some glory hunting Bradfordian or Halifaxian walking round in his A****al shirt- those ones are even worse than the ones that actually live in South London (cos that's where they're from of course)



  • I'm getting carried away again.



Wednesday, 19 December 2007

we've only got ten men

Eastlands is a bit cartoony. It's OK on the inside but outside it has all these spiral ramps and neon lights announcing 'MANCHESTER CITY' and looks like something a 9 year old boy would draw. You still get a feel for the wasteland I'm guessing it was built on as the car parks are rubble and the surrounding area is inhospitable to say the least. The unfinished feel is certainly reflected in the lack of thought that's gone into road and transport infrastructure and could even act as an analogy for Sven's team. Ten home victories on the trot did not bode well for the stuttering Spurs but it was like someone had slipped Juande a slip of paper (written in Spanish) which explained very clearly Sven's secret. Even after Zokora was (harshly I'm told) sent off Spurs controlled most of the game, albeit from a defensive position. Defoe's goal after 5 or 6 minutes shocked even the most optimistic Spurs supporter. In fact I had the most pessimistic supporter behind me. As the packed Spurs end gleefully taunted the City fans with 'We've only got ten men!' he was singing 'We've only got one goal' whilst tutting and shaking his head.

The passing movement when we did go on the offensive was startling and only impeded by something of a tendency to go one pass too many and by Steve Bennet's (the Ref) whistle blowing and poor decision making. The harsh sending off and a number of decisions that went against Spurs led to some pretty vitriolic anti-Bennet chants which accused him of being female genitalia and in the habit of playing on his home turf a lot. When he failed to award City what looked like a clear penalty in the second half the chants instantly became: " We love you Bennet, we do!" proving that Londoners have a fine sense of humour when they're winning.

Malbranque's goal around 8 minutes from time was the best. I got hugged by a lot of people. I didn't need reminding how important it all is but if I did, that emotional explosion would have done it.

I have to say that as I made my way back to the car park on the other side of the stadium, I began to regret some of the taunting chants and the bloody grin on my face (oh and the Spurs shirt and the clean and bright- and now officially lucky- bar scarf). It was OK though. I made it to the car just in time to sit in it for a full 90 minutes waiting for the traffic to get moving. It's funny how time works; those 90 minutes went much faster than the ones where we were waiting for the final whistle to blow.

Birthday challenge #2

Joe Game Joe's birthday Game Use the arrow keys to 'catch' blocks with the letters (or ...