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Posts Tagged ‘Verbal Diarrhoea’

My affair with Chelsea began when I watched a little man who went by the name of Gianfranco Zola, a man famously described as a “clever little so-and-so”. It was either his intelligence on the pitch or his five foot five tall  stature. I’m not quite  sure. But I was infatuated at first sight.

But, what started out as an off and on thing, with me catching a couple of games now and then, heck I couldn’t name most clubs in the league in those days, turned into a more serious relationship, not with the arrival of Mourinho, but rather ironically, with the arrival of some very annoying United fans to my high school. If you’ve had the chance to read almost any football site that allows comments, you’ll know the type I’m talking about. Now, and no offence to United fans, I know a few good eggs myself, these were the type who turned up all, “Glory, Glory, Man United” after a victory, but could not name United’s starting eleven in the after math, and even worse, could not recognize a good footballing argument if it drove by in an open top Cadillac XLR and shot them in the head. So, Chelsea it was, and with quite a lot of fan fare at that. In hind sight, it seems silly to base almost my entire life as a football fan on something so petty, but everyone has a story, and this is mine. And I was in high school, so don’t judge me.

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Me used to be a angry young man
Me hiding me head in the sand
You gave me the word, I finally heard
I’m doing the best that I can

– Nani and Berba a la Lennon (John, not Aaron) and McCartney

Nani and Berba are simply like that Beatles song… Getting Better.

– Wiper, Canadian football pundit. And unwitting source of opening quote

Van der Sar: Making the contract extension count

 After Chelsea unexpectedly decimated Villa and Arsenal expectedly drew at Birmingham, the onus was right back on United going into Saturday’s away fixture at Bolton, one of the trickier ones in the run-in, and the first in a three-game week involving them, Bayern and Chelsea. (more…)

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Lighter’s Note: This post has nothing to do with Ashley Cole’s private life. Not unless he has been involved with someone from the Bermudan women’s cricket team. However, given recent news reports, this remains a distinct possibility.

Ladies (and the obligatory gentlemen), we at BigFourZa are big fans of women’s sport in general and women in particular. The classes we’ve missed to watch women’s beach volleyball and figure skating alone would constitute an entire semester at most centers of learning. And so, we spent a long time contemplating what the least offensive way of writing this post would be. However, since we were unable to stop giggling like school girls, without any further ado, we bring you this.

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Lighter’s Note: First of, referring to myself in the third person is massively weird. Second, BigFourZa is proud to present its first ever post that’s been distilled from 86% all-natural Mourinho extracts.

“That strapping young man’s a football coach? Blimey, I could have knighted him, if you know what I mean.”

Queen Victoria, the 342nd. Famous last words.

“Bitch, please.”

Queen Victoria, the 343rd. Clearly not a Blue’s Fan.

Jose Mario dos Santos Felix Mourinho. Mr. Mourinho to the squad, Jose to his friends, Felix to the cats back home and JMDSFM to the obsessive compulsive internet acronym fan (OCIAF), this week Chelsea meet Inter-Milan, a team managed by a man who, and I speak for all Chelsea fans, holds a special place in my heart. The Chelsea tractor has hit a sort of cabbage patch playing away from home and there is no one more capable of derailing the Chelsea Cabbage Train than this man.

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There are only 1411 tigers left in India. And one Tiger trying very hard to increase that number.

Carlton Palmer, Footballing Pundit

Why is this here?

Confused BigFourZa reader.

Answer: To ensure some of our new readers don’t take our Carlton Palmer quotes to be real, and slag us off for quoting Carlton Palmer, of all people! That is the point, see?

For sure, what has happened to Tiger in full glare of public view is deeply embarrassing to deal with, especially for a man of his standing. But it cannot compare to the utter let-down, coupled with a deep sense of embarrassment that most of us visitors on this blog have been feeling (and conveyed as well) on watching this. (more…)

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Chapter IV – The End (Not the Doors song this time)

Legend has it that whenever a genuine female virgin or honest man passes by the Liver Buildings, the Liver Birds will flap their great wings . Steven Gerrard apparently was walking past the clock tower after returning home in ignominy after yet another defeat to Arsenal and the birds just keeled over and died; truly a mark of the man’s incredible dishonesty. Either that or the Liver birds are so shame filled that they just don’t want to be associated with the city or the club anymore. I think it’s a combination of the two really. (more…)

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There was a wonderful line I read while browsing through some football blogs a couple of days back. You can either be a fan of football, or a football fan. If you’re the former, you watch the game for its play, appreciate the tricks and trips, clap politely at the goals like the crowds in Wimbledon, then go back to your life as if nothing at all happened. A heavy section of this crowd watched the United-Arsenal biggie on Sunday as I’ve already mentioned. Mostly to see the beautiful football that they kept hearing from their football-watching friends that Arsenal play. Needless to say, they were disappointed, but not to any level to cause any bodily harm to their metatarsals.

That happens to the second type of people. The football fan. Where you have picked a club for life and automatically become sworn haters of at least 10 other clubs. Where you just cannot watch a match without picking sides, because any match is going to affect your side somehow. Except for the Stoke-Sunderland 0-0 we had on Monday. What a deadest rubber that was, 10th vs 11th or something and absolutely no influence on my Fantasy League team either. Digression apart, this is why a true football fan just cannot watch a match devoid of emotions. And why a true football fan sits up to watch Hull-Chelsea at 1.30 in the night.

The two hours were well spent, I must agree, except for the moment where I had to watch this abomination play Dumb Charades with the Chelsea support. As an ex-Dumb Charades champion (yes, it’s not as publicized as the Premier League champions, but I know how exactly Rooney feels when he scores!), this is a brief deciphering of what the guesses of the travelling support might be to what he said. (more…)

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