Archive for the 'sport' Category

Mine eyes have been opened

Grandad February 17th, 2010

I learned something today.

I was under the impression that American Football was supposed to be the ultimate in macho-male sports.

Until I saw this:

A_Football

Though apparently English Soccer is no different?

E_Football

I live and learn.

World Cup my arse

Grandad November 20th, 2009

This country is one sneeze away from bankruptcy, and the IMF are camped just outside the door.

Next week we are about to enjoy the next best thing to a general strike.

Over four hundred thousand people are out of work.

To say the country is in a crisis is like saying that Everest is a bit of a hill.

And what is our government worried about?  Questions in the Dáil, and representations by Biffo to the French government?

A fucking football match!

For fuck’s sake – get a grip!

This is a game we are talking about.  Nothing less and nothing more.  A game where a few nancies prance around after a piece of plastic for an hour and a half or so.  It is nothing to get worked up about.  There is no need to get any knickers in a twist.  It’s a fucking GAME.

If the French had come over here and deliberately burned down Guinness’s Brewery, we might have something to complain about, but what actually happened was that a bloke touched a ball with his hand.  Boo fucking hoo.

Suppose Ireland had one the match, then that means that they would be playing in South Africa.  Half the Knuckle Draggers in the country would be mortgaging their grannies to travel to see Ireland get thrashed in the next round, and we would end up with more debt; more home repossessions and more broken marriages.

The Knuckle Draggers of this country should be grateful to the French for putting the team out of its misery.

Biffo should be sending telegrams of thanks instead of whinging like a petulant child.

So let’s forget about it.  OK?

Let’s worry about something more important.

Such as planning to handle Biffo’s balls with a baseball bat.

It's over but it hasn't started yet

Grandad July 7th, 2008

I switched on the television last night to watch a programme.

I should have known better.

Fucking tennis.

I used to like watching Wimbledon.  Back in the 60s it was the era of the amateur.  It was the era of Newcombe and Laver.  Billie Jean King ruled supreme.  In 1969 they fucked it up by allowing professionals in.

So now the players are truly remote from the likes of you and me.  They spend their weeks in the gymnasium and training until ultimately they cease to be tennis players, and become tennis playing machines.  They are honed to perfection and are soulless.

I watched it for a bit.  I watched them swap rackets because the Titanium was getting warm or the laser sights needed retuning.  I listened to them grunt as they tried to break the sound barrier with each serve.  I wasn’t impressed with the fancy footwork or the incredibly well placed shots, because I knew they had practiced each shot a million times.

Of course, seeing as it was sport, it took precedence and my programme was cancelled. 

Wankers.

In this digital age there is a clatter of television channels dedicated to sport.  Why the hell can’t they be used? 

At last Wimbledon is over.  The endless football has finished.

Now we have the fucking Olympics breathing down our necks.

Oh God!

New soccer rules

Grandad February 18th, 2008

I find soccer incredibly boring.

I have never liked the game, or any aspect of it.  The game itself is just a crowd of overpaid nancies running around a field kicking a ball.  Then there is the hysteria and [worst of all] the interminable analysis that accompanies each game.

I have a little proposal to make the game a little more interesting.

Soccer is played on a very large pitch.   10,800 square meters roughly.  Including the referee, there are 23 players on the pitch at any one time.  Correct me if I’m wrong?  Each player takes up only one square meter, so, in the course of a match, the players take up one five-hundredth part of the pitch.  That leaves a hell of a lot of spare space.

football_pitch

My proposal is simple.

Why not hold two games at the same time?

All you need is two different colour balls, and four different team colours.  Each match will be entirely independent of the other.  You would only need to introduce a couple of extra rules about players using the wrong ball or tackling a player who isn’t their official opponent.

Semi-finals could be played on the same pitch.  Think of the excitement!

Also we could get the damned soccer season over in half the time.

In fact, this principle could be applied to a lot of games.  Rugby?   Cricket?  Tennis?  Baseball?  The list is a long one.

It might even make the game interesting enough for me to watch a game or two.

I've been tagged again

Grandad November 11th, 2007

Our K8 has come up with a new meme.

And, bless her little cotton socks, she has passed it on to me.

She wants me to write a post that uses every tag. It’s all very well for her – she only has a few. I have loads. The cow!

Now I may be getting old but I find these difficult. I had a hard days blogging yesterday, as I had a good rant on a podcast to America. That was after I did my post on Cully and Sully.

So today I went for a ramble around the garden, trying to think of a topic. No go. There was no inspiration around the house either, and I’m damned if I’m going around the village or around the town for something so trivial.

Back in the 70’s life was a lot simpler. There were no computers or Internet, or even television so there were no memes. I had no irritating daughter in the family either. We found our pleasures in simple things. I remember learning to drive so we could go on holidays touring in the West, with no worries about flying and Global Warming. We had such simple sports as children in times past, like watching spiders spin their webs, and the designs they’d make. We’d go for rambles through the woods and have picnics of tea and spam sandwiches. We were a lot healthier for it.

Nowadays, work is the new religion and people have lost the use of their imagination. People only get worked up over celebrities and smoking out corrupt politicians. They panic over property prices and have lost sight of the soul of life.

No.

I can’t think of anything.

I elect not to do it.

I’m going to file this under Uncatagorised.

Maybe Sixty should have a bash at this?

Or how about Kirk at Just Thinkin’? I haven’t tagged him before.

And it’s a while since I annoyed Grannymar!!

tag-award

F*cking memes….

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