Bless him. I'm very much proud.
Particularly as I know he secretly quite enjoyed it.
And I love Butthead Suede. I'm using that.
The game is very much on.
Thursday, 31 May 2007
ROGBY!
Hello there, you tiny handful of Dan's friends, hello, hello and welcome to my inaugural match report on A Sporting Bet.
It was a game the "noble sport of Rugby" played early on Saturday morning and the combatants were a number of men in yellow shirts (Australia) and a number of men in red shirts (Wales). I assume the match was happening in Australia, that or God has forsaken the Welsh and permanently darkened their skies whilst making them play Rugby on Saturday mornings.
To be honest, this won't be much of a match report for a number of reasons:
1.) I didn't take any notes. None. Which would be Ok if it wasn't for the fact that..
2.) I don't have even basic knowledge of the rules of Rugby, so the most of the match was spent with me in a state of baffled confusion. Every now and again Dan would shout or groan, or break into song for no discernible reason, and I would have to ask him what had just happened, which frequently was less than helpful.
Here's a sample:
[Much running and passing on pitch, red player one passes to red player two,]
DAN (shouts): NOOOOOOOO!
[Ed drops his beer in shock, and stares at the screen where red player two has just passed the ball to red player three]
ED (confused): What...what happened?
DAN (still staring fixedly at the screen) : Oh, Canahoolanrahan [or someone] just dummied the back spin reversal [or something] which will give the Aussies.. NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
[Ed stares confusedly at screen, nothing much appears to have happened)
ED: What happened?
repeat.
3.) I was in the grip of a bastard of a hangover. (Ladies and Gentlemen, a tip: don't attempt to nurse a hangover next to a fat Welshman who keeps shouting for no reason and making you drink beer).
But all of that being said, here goes.
THE BEGINNING
When we turned on the TV, we were in the Welsh dressing room (horrifying, I know) and a pack of burly, angry looking men were running on the spot. Quite a few of them had beards, all of the looked ugly and intent with the exception of one smooth skinned guy with ridiculous vertical hair and a face that looked like a cross between Johnny Suede and Butthead from Beavis and Butthead, who looked like he was remembering that he'd left the oven on or suddenly needed a really big poo, (more on Butthead Suede later). Then something happened, and they all charged out of the changing rooms with a weird prancing gait and into the light of the stadium.
THE SONGS
Both teams sang (disappointingly not at the same time, as I quite liked the idea of battling national anthems). They were led respectively by some famous Australian singer and a mousey looking Welsh bloke.
I say they sang, but as the camera panned along the line of Welsh players (a nation who, let's not forget, are famous for their singing), there was Butthead Suede NOT SINGING. He wasn't even pretending to sing, just standing there like a bouffanted lemon with his trademarked "Do I need a poo?" look on his face. Dan informs me that he's going out with Charlotte Church so perhaps he now hates singing so much he can't bring himself to sing ever again (Actually Butthead Suede's relationship perhaps explains his expression - more "Hmmm, axe, chainsaw or poison?" rather than "Do I need a poo?"). I told Dan that I thought this showed a lack of commitment on Butthead's part and clearly the Welsh coach agreed as once they'd finished singing, off trotted Butthead to sit on the naughty bench.
THE GAME!
Much running about. For a while it looked like Wales were going to win, then it looked like they weren't, then they got back in front again - and so on. The received wisdom (from Dan), is that they played luckily but not well. Then, thrillingly (cof), in the final minute with Wales a point ahead, on of the Welsh players jumped at a ball when he should have run at a man, and the Aussies scored to win. This was met with delight by the Aussies, stoic acceptance by the Welsh team and bizarre howling noises and extensive swearing from Dan.
THE SUMMARY
Whilst Dan was finding the whole thing a riot, from my point of view it all seemed slow and (dare I say it) boring, like watching the same scene of film (a scene where some men jump on some other men and shout) over and over again from slightly different angles. In fact, in it's structure it was a lot like pornography (where you essentially watch the same thing happen over and over again, but from slightly different angles) but pornography that only involved burly angry men and occasionally Butthead Suede (whose uniform, by the way, remained spookily white and pristine throughout the match...like he was A ROBOT!...).
So that's my summary. Watching Wales play Australia was like watching bad gay pornography.
Chew on that, sports fans.
It was a game the "noble sport of Rugby" played early on Saturday morning and the combatants were a number of men in yellow shirts (Australia) and a number of men in red shirts (Wales). I assume the match was happening in Australia, that or God has forsaken the Welsh and permanently darkened their skies whilst making them play Rugby on Saturday mornings.
To be honest, this won't be much of a match report for a number of reasons:
1.) I didn't take any notes. None. Which would be Ok if it wasn't for the fact that..
2.) I don't have even basic knowledge of the rules of Rugby, so the most of the match was spent with me in a state of baffled confusion. Every now and again Dan would shout or groan, or break into song for no discernible reason, and I would have to ask him what had just happened, which frequently was less than helpful.
Here's a sample:
[Much running and passing on pitch, red player one passes to red player two,]
DAN (shouts): NOOOOOOOO!
[Ed drops his beer in shock, and stares at the screen where red player two has just passed the ball to red player three]
ED (confused): What...what happened?
DAN (still staring fixedly at the screen) : Oh, Canahoolanrahan [or someone] just dummied the back spin reversal [or something] which will give the Aussies.. NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
[Ed stares confusedly at screen, nothing much appears to have happened)
ED: What happened?
repeat.
3.) I was in the grip of a bastard of a hangover. (Ladies and Gentlemen, a tip: don't attempt to nurse a hangover next to a fat Welshman who keeps shouting for no reason and making you drink beer).
But all of that being said, here goes.
THE BEGINNING
When we turned on the TV, we were in the Welsh dressing room (horrifying, I know) and a pack of burly, angry looking men were running on the spot. Quite a few of them had beards, all of the looked ugly and intent with the exception of one smooth skinned guy with ridiculous vertical hair and a face that looked like a cross between Johnny Suede and Butthead from Beavis and Butthead, who looked like he was remembering that he'd left the oven on or suddenly needed a really big poo, (more on Butthead Suede later). Then something happened, and they all charged out of the changing rooms with a weird prancing gait and into the light of the stadium.
THE SONGS
Both teams sang (disappointingly not at the same time, as I quite liked the idea of battling national anthems). They were led respectively by some famous Australian singer and a mousey looking Welsh bloke.
I say they sang, but as the camera panned along the line of Welsh players (a nation who, let's not forget, are famous for their singing), there was Butthead Suede NOT SINGING. He wasn't even pretending to sing, just standing there like a bouffanted lemon with his trademarked "Do I need a poo?" look on his face. Dan informs me that he's going out with Charlotte Church so perhaps he now hates singing so much he can't bring himself to sing ever again (Actually Butthead Suede's relationship perhaps explains his expression - more "Hmmm, axe, chainsaw or poison?" rather than "Do I need a poo?"). I told Dan that I thought this showed a lack of commitment on Butthead's part and clearly the Welsh coach agreed as once they'd finished singing, off trotted Butthead to sit on the naughty bench.
THE GAME!
Much running about. For a while it looked like Wales were going to win, then it looked like they weren't, then they got back in front again - and so on. The received wisdom (from Dan), is that they played luckily but not well. Then, thrillingly (cof), in the final minute with Wales a point ahead, on of the Welsh players jumped at a ball when he should have run at a man, and the Aussies scored to win. This was met with delight by the Aussies, stoic acceptance by the Welsh team and bizarre howling noises and extensive swearing from Dan.
THE SUMMARY
Whilst Dan was finding the whole thing a riot, from my point of view it all seemed slow and (dare I say it) boring, like watching the same scene of film (a scene where some men jump on some other men and shout) over and over again from slightly different angles. In fact, in it's structure it was a lot like pornography (where you essentially watch the same thing happen over and over again, but from slightly different angles) but pornography that only involved burly angry men and occasionally Butthead Suede (whose uniform, by the way, remained spookily white and pristine throughout the match...like he was A ROBOT!...).
So that's my summary. Watching Wales play Australia was like watching bad gay pornography.
Chew on that, sports fans.
Monday, 28 May 2007
The Game Is On
Hell yes. That's right. On Saturday, Edward and I sat down and watched an entire game of rugby together. It was (and I'm strangely proud to say this) the first time he has ever done it - Wales vs Australia was a historic match.
Of course, had Gareth Cooper not sliced his clearance kick in the 79th minute (or had the normally unflappable James Hook not hit the post from right in front with a penalty some twenty minutes earlier) it would have been an even more historic day, as Wales would have held on for their first victory over Australia in Australia since 1969. But he did (and he did) and we didn't. I'm not gonna lie to ya - it hurt.
Positives to take from the game? Colin Charvis was magnificent, a true old school blindside's game - he was everywhere, doing (as the old adage goes) his best work when you couldn't even see him. James Hook is (penalty miss aside) so good he makes me question my heterosexuality on a regular basis - the old fly-half factory has churned out another mercurial silky-handed wonder. And (and there's a big part of me that wants to write this in capital letters) Gav is back. The quickest hands on the field, the biggest boot on the field - one run where he fended off three Australians in quick succession was enough to get my juices flowing, and genuinely excited about the World Cup. A back-line of Peel, Hook, Henson, Shanks, Shaney, Mark Jones and Kev/Alfie should scare the crap out of any team out there - even the one that plays in black.
And yes, there were concerns - the line out's still not functioning, we were very scrappy in the loose, and both our tries were opportunist rather than crafted, but fuck it, we still scored them. I'm going to be positive - the chances for that have been few and far between since March 19th 2005, which remains the best day of my life.
Edward's view will appear soon - unfortunately this week's a bit busy with work stuff, but he'll get it up as soon as. There's no way he'd force himself through 80 minutes of 'sweaty wrestling' and then not write about it.
Personally I'm very excited: he made a number of incisive observations, including my personal favourite, "You get more beards in rugby than you do in football, don't you?"
It's going to be awesome.
Of course, had Gareth Cooper not sliced his clearance kick in the 79th minute (or had the normally unflappable James Hook not hit the post from right in front with a penalty some twenty minutes earlier) it would have been an even more historic day, as Wales would have held on for their first victory over Australia in Australia since 1969. But he did (and he did) and we didn't. I'm not gonna lie to ya - it hurt.
Positives to take from the game? Colin Charvis was magnificent, a true old school blindside's game - he was everywhere, doing (as the old adage goes) his best work when you couldn't even see him. James Hook is (penalty miss aside) so good he makes me question my heterosexuality on a regular basis - the old fly-half factory has churned out another mercurial silky-handed wonder. And (and there's a big part of me that wants to write this in capital letters) Gav is back. The quickest hands on the field, the biggest boot on the field - one run where he fended off three Australians in quick succession was enough to get my juices flowing, and genuinely excited about the World Cup. A back-line of Peel, Hook, Henson, Shanks, Shaney, Mark Jones and Kev/Alfie should scare the crap out of any team out there - even the one that plays in black.
And yes, there were concerns - the line out's still not functioning, we were very scrappy in the loose, and both our tries were opportunist rather than crafted, but fuck it, we still scored them. I'm going to be positive - the chances for that have been few and far between since March 19th 2005, which remains the best day of my life.
Edward's view will appear soon - unfortunately this week's a bit busy with work stuff, but he'll get it up as soon as. There's no way he'd force himself through 80 minutes of 'sweaty wrestling' and then not write about it.
Personally I'm very excited: he made a number of incisive observations, including my personal favourite, "You get more beards in rugby than you do in football, don't you?"
It's going to be awesome.
Sunday, 20 May 2007
Pedigree Excitement At Lord's
I'm monumentally groggy as I write this, having spent a rather delightful day at Lord's yesterday, thoroughly enjoying both the hospitality and the produce of Marston's Pedigree, the official beer of etc, etc. It's a funny old thing when corporate hospitality and sport collide, and I'm not sure I'm a fan.
Don't get me wrong, I don't want to appear ungrateful - I had a very lovely day, and met some very lovely people, and drank an awful lot of very lovely beer. What's more, the lunch was delightful - at the same time as being utterly bizarre. We sat down, the nice people poured the wine and brought us food, and we all tucked in. The forty minute lunch interval passed, the cricketers took to the field again, play recommenced... And we kept on eating. Whilst there's nothing wrong with watching sport on TV with a beer or two, it seems slightly odd to make the effort of organising tickets and travelling all the way to the ground to do it...
That aside, it was a great day. An overnight declaration meant that Hoggy was sending down the sent down the first ball of the day from the Nursery End. It was Mr Harmison's first delivery that everyone was interested in though, and third slip and gully readied themselves nervously as the lanky bastard piled in, with memories of the Ashes debacle still far too fresh. Not this time though. Phew. Despite the early overcast conditions, the ball wasn't doing a lot in the air, though Harmie was getting it to seam a little. Monty was clearly the hero of the day, odd-shaped chap that he is (massive shoulders. Vast.). There are few nicer things in sport than the sight of the Luton twirler gambolling down the wicket, arms flailing in delight as another wicket falls...
And then some lovely people from Wolfblass gave me lots of wine. Awesome.
PS It meant missing the football. But having seen the highlights, it doesn't appear that that was really any bad thing.
Don't get me wrong, I don't want to appear ungrateful - I had a very lovely day, and met some very lovely people, and drank an awful lot of very lovely beer. What's more, the lunch was delightful - at the same time as being utterly bizarre. We sat down, the nice people poured the wine and brought us food, and we all tucked in. The forty minute lunch interval passed, the cricketers took to the field again, play recommenced... And we kept on eating. Whilst there's nothing wrong with watching sport on TV with a beer or two, it seems slightly odd to make the effort of organising tickets and travelling all the way to the ground to do it...
That aside, it was a great day. An overnight declaration meant that Hoggy was sending down the sent down the first ball of the day from the Nursery End. It was Mr Harmison's first delivery that everyone was interested in though, and third slip and gully readied themselves nervously as the lanky bastard piled in, with memories of the Ashes debacle still far too fresh. Not this time though. Phew. Despite the early overcast conditions, the ball wasn't doing a lot in the air, though Harmie was getting it to seam a little. Monty was clearly the hero of the day, odd-shaped chap that he is (massive shoulders. Vast.). There are few nicer things in sport than the sight of the Luton twirler gambolling down the wicket, arms flailing in delight as another wicket falls...
And then some lovely people from Wolfblass gave me lots of wine. Awesome.
PS It meant missing the football. But having seen the highlights, it doesn't appear that that was really any bad thing.
Thursday, 17 May 2007
Good morning, everybody...
Yes, that's right, the cricket's back. And I mean proper cricket, not the travesty that was the World Cup. Test cricket. Grown-up cricket. The sort of cricket that huge numbers of people moan about while everyone else follows it with an almost blinding passion. And whilst Richie's mellifluous tones won't be greeting us this morning, it's still bloody exciting. As the clock strikes eleven, Steve Harmison (please God) will start thundering in, ready to scare the bejaysus out of whichever hapless fool happens to be facing him. Bring it.
And of course there are concerns: Freddy's ankle is one; the weather is another. But sod it - it wouldn't be the cricket season if it wasn't cold and grey. Over the next few months there's a veritable feast of cricket ahead of us, and all those other florid phrases sports writers use when what they really mean is 'My girlfriend/partner's not going to see me for months. And with a bit of luck, I'll be single in time for the Rugby World Cup'. Adding to my joy in this instance is that I'm going on Saturday. Hurrah for me.
Incidentally, Edward is away this weekend for his Dad's 60th, so once again I'll be failing to force him to watch/write about sport. Sorry. Eventually, this blog will be about what it was always intended to be about. Promise.
In the meantime, this is bloody funny.
And of course there are concerns: Freddy's ankle is one; the weather is another. But sod it - it wouldn't be the cricket season if it wasn't cold and grey. Over the next few months there's a veritable feast of cricket ahead of us, and all those other florid phrases sports writers use when what they really mean is 'My girlfriend/partner's not going to see me for months. And with a bit of luck, I'll be single in time for the Rugby World Cup'. Adding to my joy in this instance is that I'm going on Saturday. Hurrah for me.
Incidentally, Edward is away this weekend for his Dad's 60th, so once again I'll be failing to force him to watch/write about sport. Sorry. Eventually, this blog will be about what it was always intended to be about. Promise.
In the meantime, this is bloody funny.
Tuesday, 8 May 2007
A Good Cause
A quick break from my sporting ramblings, while I urge anyone who is stumbling across this blog to do their bit for a very worthy cause. To raise money for Mountain Rescue, the late Marcus Brown has painted this:
If you check out 'The Dead Artist' in the links section to the right, you'll see how you can help just by clicking on the link.
I'll now go back to wanging on about sport. Cheers.
If you check out 'The Dead Artist' in the links section to the right, you'll see how you can help just by clicking on the link.
I'll now go back to wanging on about sport. Cheers.
Oportunities Missed
Edward's back from China tomorrow, which is obviously very exciting for all of us - that's right, you know who you are. He's had, I'm assured, a marvellous time, and has some very exciting news. It's sod all to do with this blog though, so you probably won't get to hear about it. Sorry.
Anyway, to the point: it's quickly transpired that Ed picked a really sucky couple of weeks to go away on holiday. Off the top of my head, we've missed the following:
- The Women's FA Cup Final, where Arsenal completed an historic quadruple in front of nearly 25,000 people
- The Zurich Premiership Play-Off Semis (Ed, this one's rugby)
- The Awesomely Shambolic Final Of The ICC Cricket World Cup West Indies 2007 (to give it its full title)
- Man Utd regaining the Premiership title for the first time since 2004...
- ...days after crashing out of the European Cup away to Milan, ruining the prospect of an All-English final with Liverpool
- Mark Selby and John Higgins re-writing history in the final of the Embassy World Snooker Championships (you have NO IDEA how much I would have enjoyed making him watch that)
I could go on. Suffice to say, we're off to a slow start, and for that I can only apologise. But don't worry - this is far from finished. To say sorry in the meantime, here's Argentinean wunderkind Lionel Messi scoring for Barcelona against Getafe. Words fail me, which is why this video comes with a generic mid-Atlantic rawk soundtrack. Hurrah. Brilliantly (and somewhat randomly), Messi's goal is followed by a bunch of kids playing football. All of these children are better at sport than Edward.
Anyway, to the point: it's quickly transpired that Ed picked a really sucky couple of weeks to go away on holiday. Off the top of my head, we've missed the following:
- The Women's FA Cup Final, where Arsenal completed an historic quadruple in front of nearly 25,000 people
- The Zurich Premiership Play-Off Semis (Ed, this one's rugby)
- The Awesomely Shambolic Final Of The ICC Cricket World Cup West Indies 2007 (to give it its full title)
- Man Utd regaining the Premiership title for the first time since 2004...
- ...days after crashing out of the European Cup away to Milan, ruining the prospect of an All-English final with Liverpool
- Mark Selby and John Higgins re-writing history in the final of the Embassy World Snooker Championships (you have NO IDEA how much I would have enjoyed making him watch that)
I could go on. Suffice to say, we're off to a slow start, and for that I can only apologise. But don't worry - this is far from finished. To say sorry in the meantime, here's Argentinean wunderkind Lionel Messi scoring for Barcelona against Getafe. Words fail me, which is why this video comes with a generic mid-Atlantic rawk soundtrack. Hurrah. Brilliantly (and somewhat randomly), Messi's goal is followed by a bunch of kids playing football. All of these children are better at sport than Edward.
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