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look for me when the sun-bright swallow sings upon the birch bough high
Apparently Vicente del Bosque was made a marquis for winning Spain the World Cup. I did not know this- I didn't even know you could make someone a marquis (exceptions of course for felines in human footwear). If my comms turn out to be wrong on this I will be very, very sad.
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One of these days I may yet be able to write about football matches in a way that, you know, actually reflects the match, while managing to be readable, with minimal to zero amounts of capslocking at everyone on the pitch. If ever, it would probably have to be a very boring match. In the meantime you're stuck with endless variations on I miss Guaje/EVERYONE misses Guaje/I miss Puyi/Wojciech Szczesny you are insane.
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But seriously, Woj, who gets a red card on the opening game of the Euros?
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My feelings for Mario Balotelli are similar to my feelings for the Intarmedkids- it's impossible not to love him, but it's equally impossible to love him continuously. I keep on saying that I have long since been over these brilliant furious stubborn kids with chips on their shoulders and something to prove, but no one has ever believed me, not even me. Oh well.
Regardless: look at Sergio Ramos's feet, that was a foul, stop berating him for not getting the goal.
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My comms described Antonio di Natale as a busy bee. It is not an inaccurate description. You have Andrea Pirlo, who moves across the pitch like water, and you have David Villa, sharp and compact like an arrow singing home, and then you have Toto di Natale, who just keeps running and ends up everywhere.
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My boy started. My boy started and my boy scored the other goal- which he had coming, really- and I am aware of how ridiculous it is to be proud of a millionaire footballer I will never meet and who captained my club and then left to go home (sometimes I am a very bitter person), but the fact remains.
Also, I will never stop being amused by the fact that Vicente del Bosque didn't start any strikers.
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One of these days I may yet be able to write about football matches in a way that, you know, actually reflects the match, while managing to be readable, with minimal to zero amounts of capslocking at everyone on the pitch. If ever, it would probably have to be a very boring match. In the meantime you're stuck with endless variations on I miss Guaje/EVERYONE misses Guaje/I miss Puyi/Wojciech Szczesny you are insane.
---
But seriously, Woj, who gets a red card on the opening game of the Euros?
---
My feelings for Mario Balotelli are similar to my feelings for the Intarmedkids- it's impossible not to love him, but it's equally impossible to love him continuously. I keep on saying that I have long since been over these brilliant furious stubborn kids with chips on their shoulders and something to prove, but no one has ever believed me, not even me. Oh well.
Regardless: look at Sergio Ramos's feet, that was a foul, stop berating him for not getting the goal.
---
My comms described Antonio di Natale as a busy bee. It is not an inaccurate description. You have Andrea Pirlo, who moves across the pitch like water, and you have David Villa, sharp and compact like an arrow singing home, and then you have Toto di Natale, who just keeps running and ends up everywhere.
---
My boy started. My boy started and my boy scored the other goal- which he had coming, really- and I am aware of how ridiculous it is to be proud of a millionaire footballer I will never meet and who captained my club and then left to go home (sometimes I am a very bitter person), but the fact remains.
Also, I will never stop being amused by the fact that Vicente del Bosque didn't start any strikers.