levity: (mes que un club)
HOLY CARP, BARCELONA, GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER.


ETA: The football gods heard me, and sent their response via their vessel on earth, Lionel Messi. He and Cris are making deals and laughing at all us peons, just you wait and see.


ETA2: ANO BA YAN. ANO BA YAN.
levity: (mes que un club)
We have: a three-man defense, Josep Guardiola, the Camp Nou, and all the cules in the world. Tots units fem forca- which feels strange, coming from me, but I believe it. Vamos Barca.


ETA: Okay, so as the Cant was blasting from Camp Nou's speakers and everyone on the pitch was shaking hands there was this shot of two cules singing their hearts out into the camera, pointing to the crests on their jerseys, so we have the best fans. We did well, and we have the best fans, and while of course you have to ask for more, if only so you'll be kick-started into trying for it- this is okay. This is okay. Som i serem, guys.

But it has to be said: holy mother of God, Fernando Torres.
levity: (mes que un club)
We have: a three-man defense, Josep Guardiola, the Camp Nou, and all the cules in the world. Tots units fem forca- which feels strange, coming from me, but I believe it. Vamos Barca.


ETA: Okay, so as the Cant was blasting from Camp Nou's speakers and everyone on the pitch was shaking hands there was this shot of two cules singing their hearts out into the camera, pointing to the crests on their jerseys, so we have the best fans. We did well, and we have the best fans, and while of course you have to ask for more, if only so you'll be kick-started into trying for it- this is okay. This is okay. Som i serem, guys.

But it has to be said: holy mother of God, Fernando Torres.
levity: (daydream team)
So nervous. So. Fucking. Nervous.

I just saw Robin hug the Gunnersaurus. Gods, I love this team.

ESPN PL Preview's man to watch for tonight is Fernando Torres. I'm not even tempted to make a snarky comment, because there's kicking someone when they're down and there's kicking someone when they've had the year Fernando Torres has.

STOP COMPARING MIKEL TO CESC. ARE YOU NOT OVER THAT YET.


ETA: Did my comms just compare Theo Walcott to a gazelle?


ETA2: That has to be the most annoying draw I've ever watched. Anyway. I believe in QPR.


ETA3: Clasico stream that is in Spanish but works, if anyone's looking. Augh, Barcelona.


ETA4: At least it's a football game and not a mixed martial arts match? Translation: BARCELONA YOU NEED TO SCORE.

(Aside: The best thing about Spanish streams is that you can hear the crowd, but don't have to suffer through commentators calling your team diving cheating scum, saying the other team is bound to win, or telling Wenger to spend some fucking money.)


ETA5: Oh gods oh gods oh gods. 1-2 and you can't lose this, guys, you can't.


ETA the last: Well played, Madrid. Congratulations.
levity: (daydream team)
So nervous. So. Fucking. Nervous.

I just saw Robin hug the Gunnersaurus. Gods, I love this team.

ESPN PL Preview's man to watch for tonight is Fernando Torres. I'm not even tempted to make a snarky comment, because there's kicking someone when they're down and there's kicking someone when they've had the year Fernando Torres has.

STOP COMPARING MIKEL TO CESC. ARE YOU NOT OVER THAT YET.


ETA: Did my comms just compare Theo Walcott to a gazelle?


ETA2: That has to be the most annoying draw I've ever watched. Anyway. I believe in QPR.


ETA3: Clasico stream that is in Spanish but works, if anyone's looking. Augh, Barcelona.


ETA4: At least it's a football game and not a mixed martial arts match? Translation: BARCELONA YOU NEED TO SCORE.

(Aside: The best thing about Spanish streams is that you can hear the crowd, but don't have to suffer through commentators calling your team diving cheating scum, saying the other team is bound to win, or telling Wenger to spend some fucking money.)


ETA5: Oh gods oh gods oh gods. 1-2 and you can't lose this, guys, you can't.


ETA the last: Well played, Madrid. Congratulations.
levity: (mes que un club)
ESPN is a lying liar that advertises Champions League matches and then doesn't televise them. My stream is fuzzy and intermittent and in German but I spent twenty minutes trying to get one to work, so I'm not complaining.

Aaanyway. Here's to the guys I haven't seen play in far too long. May the best team win, and may the best team be Barcelona.


ETA: The pictures on my stream froze just as Ramires started running towards Barcelona's end of the pitch, but the sound of a goal being scored is the same everywhere. The hell, Barcelona. I hope I haven't jinxed anything.


ETA 2: YOU HAVE TWENTY MINUTES TO SCORE TWO GOALS, GUYS. WHY AM I BEING PUT IN THIS POSITION AGAIN. TWENTY MINUTES. TWO GOALS. VAMOS BARCA.


ETA 3: Gods, guys, can we not go five minutes without the referee having to blow for a foul? Honestly.

P.S. Puyi. Capi. I love you.


ETA 4: Augh. We have to beat them at Camp Nou, then. Vamos Barca.
levity: (mes que un club)
ESPN is a lying liar that advertises Champions League matches and then doesn't televise them. My stream is fuzzy and intermittent and in German but I spent twenty minutes trying to get one to work, so I'm not complaining.

Aaanyway. Here's to the guys I haven't seen play in far too long. May the best team win, and may the best team be Barcelona.


ETA: The pictures on my stream froze just as Ramires started running towards Barcelona's end of the pitch, but the sound of a goal being scored is the same everywhere. The hell, Barcelona. I hope I haven't jinxed anything.


ETA 2: YOU HAVE TWENTY MINUTES TO SCORE TWO GOALS, GUYS. WHY AM I BEING PUT IN THIS POSITION AGAIN. TWENTY MINUTES. TWO GOALS. VAMOS BARCA.


ETA 3: Gods, guys, can we not go five minutes without the referee having to blow for a foul? Honestly.

P.S. Puyi. Capi. I love you.


ETA 4: Augh. We have to beat them at Camp Nou, then. Vamos Barca.
levity: (mes que un club)
I'm pretty sure I had something else to say earlier this evening, only apparently my boy went and scored a hatttrick against Granada in the unholy hours of the day and became Barcelona's all-time leading goalscorer. Here's a video of all 234 goals, for those of you with fifteen minutes to spare. Several of these I saw live, on streams of varying degrees of quality at fuck-all o'clock in the morning. Sometimes the players appeared to be little more than colored bits of fuzz on my computer screen and I only knew where the ball was by virtue of how everything else was positioned, but there'd be a quick flash of motion and I'd know it was Leo, sure as anything. He plays like a video game figure and like a physicist's dream and like very fast calculus, and sometimes he does things like scoring five goals in one game (two goals is a brace, three is a hattrick, and four is a poker- thank you, Diego Milito- but is there a word for five? Has there ever been a need for a word for five? Because he's just going to get better, so someone had better get on it), and classes and exams and proper sleeping schedules have nothing on that.

Lionel Messi pulled me kicking and screaming into football fandom one and three-quarters of a year ago, seventeen years old and out of love with the world. There is nothing I can say about him that has not been said, and better, by someone else, but I owe an incredible amount, so consider this me trying.

---

Met the mother at Mega (alliteration completely unintentional) and then went to pick the brother up from Pisay, and that tree beside the grandstand was in bloom again, pale pink taking over the top branches. The last time it was in bloom was three years ago, when we graduated. And look, Dagupan is my first home and Manila is my last, but you could blindfold me and I'd still be able to pick my way through the campus, SHB ASTB caf gym field grandstand, if with allowances made for the construction going on around the creek. That was the table Muon took over during Sir Vlad's birthday and that Benjie ate cake off of, and that was where we played agawan-base during first year intrams when Jan took that picture of Thea, and there on the far end of the field beside the balete was the gazebo that will always be mine and Guia's, and those are the kalachuchi I learned to climb trees on, and I can still sit down on the ground of the oval and look and not feel like I'm running to beat a ticking time bomb. The line I use is that it's the people that are important, which, of course, but the school's mine, too, as much as every place you leave your loves in is, it's mine.
levity: (mes que un club)
I'm pretty sure I had something else to say earlier this evening, only apparently my boy went and scored a hatttrick against Granada in the unholy hours of the day and became Barcelona's all-time leading goalscorer. Here's a video of all 234 goals, for those of you with fifteen minutes to spare. Several of these I saw live, on streams of varying degrees of quality at fuck-all o'clock in the morning. Sometimes the players appeared to be little more than colored bits of fuzz on my computer screen and I only knew where the ball was by virtue of how everything else was positioned, but there'd be a quick flash of motion and I'd know it was Leo, sure as anything. He plays like a video game figure and like a physicist's dream and like very fast calculus, and sometimes he does things like scoring five goals in one game (two goals is a brace, three is a hattrick, and four is a poker- thank you, Diego Milito- but is there a word for five? Has there ever been a need for a word for five? Because he's just going to get better, so someone had better get on it), and classes and exams and proper sleeping schedules have nothing on that.

Lionel Messi pulled me kicking and screaming into football fandom one and three-quarters of a year ago, seventeen years old and out of love with the world. There is nothing I can say about him that has not been said, and better, by someone else, but I owe an incredible amount, so consider this me trying.

---

Met the mother at Mega (alliteration completely unintentional) and then went to pick the brother up from Pisay, and that tree beside the grandstand was in bloom again, pale pink taking over the top branches. The last time it was in bloom was three years ago, when we graduated. And look, Dagupan is my first home and Manila is my last, but you could blindfold me and I'd still be able to pick my way through the campus, SHB ASTB caf gym field grandstand, if with allowances made for the construction going on around the creek. That was the table Muon took over during Sir Vlad's birthday and that Benjie ate cake off of, and that was where we played agawan-base during first year intrams when Jan took that picture of Thea, and there on the far end of the field beside the balete was the gazebo that will always be mine and Guia's, and those are the kalachuchi I learned to climb trees on, and I can still sit down on the ground of the oval and look and not feel like I'm running to beat a ticking time bomb. The line I use is that it's the people that are important, which, of course, but the school's mine, too, as much as every place you leave your loves in is, it's mine.
levity: (true love and high adventure)
WAY TO BREAK A GOAL DROUGHT, DAVID VILLA.

Congratulations, guys. And thank you.
levity: (true love and high adventure)
WAY TO BREAK A GOAL DROUGHT, DAVID VILLA.

Congratulations, guys. And thank you.
levity: (mes que un club)
May the best team win, and may the best team be Barcelona.

---

ETA: Guys alam ko style nyong kawawain si Messi, kasi humihirap ang buhay ninyo kapag nakay Messi ang bola, pero pakiusap lang, huwag nyo naman kawawain si Messi.

Aside from, I think I like this game. Also Iker has supernatural powers, but we all knew that.

ETA2: OF COURSE WHEN THE GOAL HAPPENS THE STREAM GOES FRIZZY. PEDRO.

I like this game. Kinda miss Mourinho, though- I cannot believe I am saying this. I guess you get used to having him around, flapping his arms and pouting.

ETA3: Puyol was substituted for Abidal, and Camp Nou was on its feet. Barcelona.

We're going to Wembley. We're going to Wembley.

Hey, I've got nothing to do today but smile.
levity: (mes que un club)
May the best team win, and may the best team be Barcelona.

---

ETA: Guys alam ko style nyong kawawain si Messi, kasi humihirap ang buhay ninyo kapag nakay Messi ang bola, pero pakiusap lang, huwag nyo naman kawawain si Messi.

Aside from, I think I like this game. Also Iker has supernatural powers, but we all knew that.

ETA2: OF COURSE WHEN THE GOAL HAPPENS THE STREAM GOES FRIZZY. PEDRO.

I like this game. Kinda miss Mourinho, though- I cannot believe I am saying this. I guess you get used to having him around, flapping his arms and pouting.

ETA3: Puyol was substituted for Abidal, and Camp Nou was on its feet. Barcelona.

We're going to Wembley. We're going to Wembley.

Hey, I've got nothing to do today but smile.
levity: (mes que un club)
Hello again, temperatures of over 36 degrees Celsius. It isn't quite summer without you.

---

I haven't seen the clasico yet. This latest one, I mean. I set my alarm for 2:45 in the morning, but when it went off I was headachy and tired (let me tell you this: the only difference between the MRT at rush hour and hell is that the MRT goes both ways) and couldn't sit up properly and still had slides to label because we had an exam the day after, so I just did not get up. I'm not sure that there was ever a more nervous person checking the football sites at one in the afternoon.

And Dr. Guerrero used my slides for our exam- let me make this clear, Dr. Guerrero used my slides, the ones I spent three hours staring at and sticking labels on, only of course with the labels blanked out, because she wasn't able to find any better pictures- and I'm not sure I've ever been prouder in my life. I think I even passed this one, never mind that I never want to see a frog ovary ever again, no matter how pretty it may be. There's something about Bio30 that makes a passing grade feel like a- well, feel like something very grand and very important, but this was the UEFA Champions League semifinal. This was a UEFA Champions League semifinal between Barcelona and Real Madrid, Spain's bitterest rivalry, preceded by Madrid's Copa del Rey win, Jose Mourinho being Jose Mourinho, and Pep Guardiola finally losing his cool. If the football were Copa-like and not manita-like the atmosphere would have made up for it. We're all drowning in morbo here, but come on, if we follow football it's as much for the drama as it is for the beauty.

I've downloaded the match, and no regrets about whatever, but I wonder if this is called growing up.

---

Ladies. Gentlemen. If I cannot not want to be Arsene Wenger because he just does not compromise, I equally cannot not want to be Jose Mourinho, because he doesn't do things by halves.

---

My Angkong turned 71 today. I called Amma up to say happy birthday, and as these things go we spent the next ten minutes talking in raised voices and trying to comprehend what the other was saying. Amma said they went out to celebrate, I'm not sure if it was at Dagupena or Star Plaza, and if I wanted crabs or prawns or bangus or anything, and to go back to Dagupan to visit soon. Times like these make me feel rootless.
levity: (mes que un club)
Hello again, temperatures of over 36 degrees Celsius. It isn't quite summer without you.

---

I haven't seen the clasico yet. This latest one, I mean. I set my alarm for 2:45 in the morning, but when it went off I was headachy and tired (let me tell you this: the only difference between the MRT at rush hour and hell is that the MRT goes both ways) and couldn't sit up properly and still had slides to label because we had an exam the day after, so I just did not get up. I'm not sure that there was ever a more nervous person checking the football sites at one in the afternoon.

And Dr. Guerrero used my slides for our exam- let me make this clear, Dr. Guerrero used my slides, the ones I spent three hours staring at and sticking labels on, only of course with the labels blanked out, because she wasn't able to find any better pictures- and I'm not sure I've ever been prouder in my life. I think I even passed this one, never mind that I never want to see a frog ovary ever again, no matter how pretty it may be. There's something about Bio30 that makes a passing grade feel like a- well, feel like something very grand and very important, but this was the UEFA Champions League semifinal. This was a UEFA Champions League semifinal between Barcelona and Real Madrid, Spain's bitterest rivalry, preceded by Madrid's Copa del Rey win, Jose Mourinho being Jose Mourinho, and Pep Guardiola finally losing his cool. If the football were Copa-like and not manita-like the atmosphere would have made up for it. We're all drowning in morbo here, but come on, if we follow football it's as much for the drama as it is for the beauty.

I've downloaded the match, and no regrets about whatever, but I wonder if this is called growing up.

---

Ladies. Gentlemen. If I cannot not want to be Arsene Wenger because he just does not compromise, I equally cannot not want to be Jose Mourinho, because he doesn't do things by halves.

---

My Angkong turned 71 today. I called Amma up to say happy birthday, and as these things go we spent the next ten minutes talking in raised voices and trying to comprehend what the other was saying. Amma said they went out to celebrate, I'm not sure if it was at Dagupena or Star Plaza, and if I wanted crabs or prawns or bangus or anything, and to go back to Dagupan to visit soon. Times like these make me feel rootless.
levity: (it's belief that leads to the object)
We're not going to talk about Arsenal. Okay?

My congratulations to Real Madrid, Copa del Rey winners, but can you really not go through a clasico without getting someone sent off?

All right. If Chelsea can make their way to second place at this stage, Arsenal and Barcelona can do anything they put their minds to. Let's do this.
levity: (it's belief that leads to the object)
We're not going to talk about Arsenal. Okay?

My congratulations to Real Madrid, Copa del Rey winners, but can you really not go through a clasico without getting someone sent off?

All right. If Chelsea can make their way to second place at this stage, Arsenal and Barcelona can do anything they put their minds to. Let's do this.
levity: (clarity)
Here are some of the facts concerning this morning's fixture:

Barcelona had nineteen shots at the goal, ten of them on target. Arsenal had no goal attempts, the first time such a statistic has been recorded in the UEFA Champions' League ever since such statistics have been recorded in 2003. Arsenal's goalkeeper, Wojciech Szczesny, dislocated a finger in the twenty-somethingth minute and had to be replaced by Manuel Almunia. Jack Wilshere went down sometime near the end of the first half and was ignored, in the ref's opinion likely legitimately, by the ref, and in the semi-scuffle that followed Eric Abidal's hand somehow found its way to Robin van Persie's throat. No cards. When the game started again and Robin was chasing for the ball he thwacked Dani Alves in the face, probably deliberately. He earned himself a deserved yellow card.

In the closing minutes of the first half the ball was in Arsenal's penalty area and Cesc Fabregas, coming back from injury, attempted to clear it with a backheel pass. There were three Barcelona players behind him. Lionel Messi then proceeded to score the game's first goal, from an Andres Iniesta assist.

In the fifty-somethingth minute Robin van Persie made an attempt on goal, but was ruled offside. The ref blew the whistle. Robin kicked the ball- his foot was probably already on the way when the whistle was blown. The ref gave him a second yellow for time-wasting. Robin argued that he hadn't heard the whistle- completely understandable when in a stadium containing 95000.

The final score was 3-1 to Barcelona. Arsenal's 1 was a Sergio Busquets own goal from a Samir Nasri corner. It was not the sort of game you wake up at 3:45 in the morning for.

---

Here are some things that seem to escape people's attention regarding this morning's fixture, and the reactions to it:

The fact that Barcelona had nineteen shots on goal to Arsenal's zero does not affect the fact that the referee had, admittedly, made several errors. If anything, it would be the other way around. If the ref does something and you think it isn't the thing a competent ref ought to be doing, then by all means say something about it. The game is over; any complaints regarding the refereeing won't change the result. But these complaints might help prevent such mistakes from occurring again (ha, occurring, like they spontaneously generate out of thin air). If listened to, that is, and not simply dismissed as sore losers whining.

Of course Arsenal ought to have given a better game. Of course Cesc ought to have known better than to attempt a backheel pass when in his own penalty area with Barcelona players all around him. Of course competent refereeing wouldn't have won Arsenal the game. (It shouldn't, not if Barcelona kept the ball with them the entire time the way they did in the first half, and didn't let Arsenal have any chances the way they didn't in the first leg.)

Arsenal is the least important part of the equation. Arsenal is only a part of the equation due to the luck of the draw. (The same is true for Barcelona.) Arsenal's problem lies in building goals and preventing the other team from building more goals than they did. Whether or not Arsenal has a problem should not affect whether or not the game's refereeing has a problem.

Arsene Wenger and Samir are now facing UEFA disciplinary charges for their confrontations with the referee. Which is expected, of course, but I'm glad they bothered. There are, of course, different methods of disagreeing with the ref, some of them less likely to get you in trouble than others, but this is Arsene Wenger we're talking about.

Okay. Breathe. Congrats, Barcelona- you won, and there's no point in going what if over Robin's red card, so let's just say that based on the decisions made during the game, you deserved it. Gunners for the double.

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