After waking up to watch my broken Gooners at a godforsaken hour, I've managed to accomplish exactly nothing today save sitting on my ass with my feet in my husband's lap while we both watch soccer.
We've made it through Arsenal's win (far, far closer than I would have liked, so if my team could be something other than injured soon, that would be awesome) and Blackburn's completely crazy topping of Everton. (Nothing says Prem League heart attack like a 94th minute goal to win the match. By which I mean 'HOLY SHIT I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT EVEN HAPPENED.)
Really, though, I'm taking one major thing away from today.
Thank fuck Fernando Torres cut his hair.
People, we went from this monstrosity:
to this:
It's not perfect, but it's better. Of course, the fact that he looks like he's about eight in that picture makes me feel kind of gross, but whatever. He cut his hair, he scored the winning goal. It's Fernando Torres' world, y'all. We're just living in it.
For the record, in the 12 minutes it has taken me to find a properly terrible picture of 'Nando's old hair and write out this post, West Ham has managed to hang two on Wigan. That's just sad.
We have Olympics Fever here at Bitchball. After an Opening Ceremony that would cause even a casual Luddite to go running for the hills (seriously, can we talk about the gigantic tablet PC, more or less, that was the floor of that stadium last night? Or the fact that Lisa and I, more than once, sent each other messages over AIM that simply read 'WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE I DON'T UNDERSTAND HOLY GOD THIS IS AMAZING' since, obviously, one does not need punctiation or lower case letters when one is having ones mind blown by a bunch of Communists and trying to avoid thinking about China's shittastic human rights record. Bonus points for not flinging things at the TV every time Bush or, even worse [today] Putin showed up on screen. Who starts a god damn war the day the Olympics start? Who?), the games are in full swing, and I am already fully prepared to choke a bitch.
You see, NBC did the US a favor and created a whole channel dedicated to men's and women's soccer (WHEE), and men's and women's basketball (bleh) because, well, there are a lot of games, and some people (*coughcoughme*) want to see all of them. It's a smart move, and it really frees them up to air some of the events that otherwise wouldn't see the light of day. As I am a huge Olympics whore, I wholeheartedly approve of the fact that I actually got to see the women's fencing medal event (WHAT UP, US SWEEP) because NBC could put the US/Japan women's match on the soccer channel.
There's just one problem. Not everyone gets the soccer channel or the basketball channel. In fact, not even all customers of a given cable provider get the channels. I? Do not get these channels, as a subscriber of Comcast of Philadelphia. Comcast of New Jersey? Gets the channels. Comcast of Delaware? Gets them. Comcast Philadelphia, the HOME GODDAMN MARKET of Comcast Cable, site of the massive Comcast Building, CAN'T GET THE GOD DAMN SOCCER CHANNEL?! So...basically, I'm going to get exactly no soccer the entire Games? Great.
Here's the thing: I know I'm going to get to see some games, and I know that I'll get to see all or most of the US men's and women's games. (I have not so much faith in the men's team, but whatever, we'll see.) That's fine. But I want to see more. I want to see the Brazil matches, because I want to see how Ronaldinho's leg holds up. I want to know if the Dutch team is as good as they look on paper. Shit, I want to see how the Ivory Coast holds up in their first Olympic Games. (For men's soccer, anyway.) But no. Because Comcast Philadelphia isn't carrying the channels. Instead, I get Fox Reality Channel airing shit like 'The World's Trashiest Weddings.'
A pox on you, Comcast Philadelphia. Give me my damn soccer. Whatever. I'm going to go watch Michael Phelps beat the shit out of the rest of the world. Homina. (For the record, I'm thirteen years old and swimming delights me solely because the announcers keep talking about the quality of various strokes.)
But hey: the Prem starts in a week. Sing it with me, people: FUCK. CHELSEA.
Take a look at the US Men's Team, would you? They're all about fourteen years old. The Olympics make me feel like a pervy old lady.
You know how Americans (and I am totally generalizing here, but after enduring that piece of shit soccer match, I'm allowed to generalize) hate soccer because no one ever scores and it's boring?
Here's what happened in the Germany/Spain final: Nobody scored. It was boring. Outside of a fluky goal by Spain's Fernando Torres and his tragic, tragic hair during which every single person in my basement screamed, in unison, 'WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, LEHMANN?' (I also got a pair of text messages and an instant message demanding the exact same valuable piece of information.) Lehmann was overmatched, out of place, and it was a whole big stupid mess and Lahm (the pocket defender) has a lot of explaining to do as to why Torres could get past him like that.
But that was it. That was the only goal. Torres had a shot later, and missed. The most hilarious whiff of the tourney, however, goes to Spain's Marcos Senna who had a perfect shot lined up and instead, tripped over his own feet and went sliding to the ground...backwards, while the ball sailed off helplessly.
Germany never showed up. There were questions as to whether or not German midfielder Michael Ballack would even start and, well, I'll be honest. Outside of suddenly becoming mindblowingly hot when he came away from a collision with blood streaming down his face, he....didn't really do much of anything. At all. Well, except get himself a yellowcard and unloading on the ref, which was also, um, hot. Bastian Schweinsteiger tried, but when no one else (Podolski, where the hell were you?) on his team showed up to help him out, there was only so much he could do.
When it boils down to it, both teams played some pretty atrocious football, but Germany just couldn't break through Spain's first line of defense, and so the final remains Spain 1-0 Germany. Blech.
Great, Spain. Go lift your racist-ass coach over your head some more. I really, really hope that you drop him, and that he takes out a chunk of Sergio Ramos' hair on the way down. (Yeah, I don't so much like Spain. Or Aragones.)
After a weekend of staid and expected results (*yawn* Germany beat Poland, Austria embarrassed themselves, the Swiss demonstrated why they really should stay neutral in all international events and Portugal...won. The bitches.) Euro 2008 has managed to go all kinds of crazy over the last two days.
First an upstart Romanian team playing completely out of their heads managed to tie France, one of the favorites. Fine, fine, France didn't lose, exactly, but they couldn't manage to hang a point on Romania- the assumed weakest team in Group C, the Group of Death. But hey. It's Euro 2008. We wouldn't get out of the first round without some wacky-ass tie.
Or, you know. A wacky-ass loss. Because that's what happened when the Oranje (the Netherlands) hung up three goals to Nil on Italy, the defending World Cup Champions. Now. One of those goals, the first from Ruud van Nistelrooy, was, to put it mildly, controversial. (This particular bitch, having spent the entirety of the 2006 World Cup shrieking at the Azzuri for being a bunch of flopping bitches, takes particular delight in recognizing that Italy went down by a goal because Christian Panucci was too busy flopping off the pitch to pay attention to what was happening in the game. Suck it, Azzuri.) In the end, it didn't matter, as Holland scored twice more as the Italians couldn't put a game together. They were sluggish, they were slow, they were old (every member of the team over 30) and it. Was. Beautiful.
In fact, it might have been the craziest thing to happen since this weekend, until this afternoon's first match- Spain v. Russia. Russia lost, of course, because European teams only falter in Russia in the winter, but that's not the news. The news is David Villa's hat trick of goals, the first hat trick in Euro play in eight years. Spain wound up spanking the Russians 4-1 thanks to a head in from My Arsenal Boyfriend Cesc Fabregas.
For his ridiculous performance against the Russians, David Villa gets the honor of today's picture post. Look, people, there are some shallow reasons I watch soccer, too.
So Los Bitches are having an email summit on the fact that we, uh, have kind of sucked at posting lately. Like, we have sucked at posting like Tony Romo sucks in the playoffs, or like Julio Lugo sucks in the infield. (That means we suck a lot.) That's going to change, rest assured.
Anyway, my point is this: As we're all talking, I'm watching the Portugal/Turkey Euro 2008 match that I taped earlier today and further injuring my already-on-fire-due-to-the-zombie-death-flu throat screaming at Portugal that I hope certain anatomically impossible things happen to them or to their grandmothers.
Most of my ire, though, has been aimed squarely at His Bitchiness Cristiano Ronaldo. Here's something you need to understand before we really get into the tournament: I. Motherfucking. Loathe. Cristiano Ronaldo. I hate him. I hate his stupid face. I hate his stupid half-mullet fauxhawk hairdo (Jackass in the Front, Douuuuuchebag in the back). I hate that he puts enough gel in his stupid hair to equip most of the Bleacher Creature contingent in Yankee Stadium for a week solid. I hatehatehate his stupid fucking stutterstep. (Although I loved it when he tried to pull one on a PK in the Champions League final, fooling exactly no one least of all Cesc in goal, and leading to missing the shot, which damn near killed his team's shot at repeating. It would have, too, had John Terry not slipped on the wet grass and missed HIS kick, a fact that made this Arsenal supporter's heart grow three sizes that day.)
I can't even watch him. I can't. Really. I know that he's going to pull off at least one ridiculous maneuver during every game that will leave everyone staring slackjawed at their screen trying to figure out HOW IN THE HELL HE DID THAT, and I'll still be punching a couch pillow in fury hoping that he dies painfully in a fire or develops some horrible genetic mutation, the result of which inivolves both kneecaps spontaneously shooting off his body mid-game and blinding him. Hate.
In short: Welcome to Euro 2008. Fuck Ronaldo, and fuck Portugal. Know those two things, abide by them, and we'll get along just fine this month.
Bah. Whatever. Congratulations, you bunch of douchebags. Now go cry on the field a little more, Cristiano.
PS: As an Arsenal fan, it gives me no small measure of glee to note that Didier Drogba and his red-carded ass was a complete nonentity in the second half. SUCK ON THAT.
For all my practiced bitterness and devil-may-care attitude, that was a fucking RIDICULOUS game. Seriously, two extra fifteens, and it still went to penalty kicks to decide the entire league, and this is after Drogba was sent off with a red card for slapping(!)Vidic aross the face in the middle of a last minute almost-brawl. (It should be noted that Tevez, the jackass who started the whole fucking fracas, got a yellow card.) Oh, and did I mention that the guy who missed the crucial kick that would have given his side the championship was one John Terry? Who just happens to be the captain of the fucking team?
I'm no Chelsea fan, but if I was, I might consider catatonia a blessing right about now. That must have been painful.
God, fuck the Champions League. Is it Euro time yet?
I refuse to put up a picture of Man U celebrating. Instead, have a picture of Drogba getting his incredibly well-timed red card while backed up by that traitorous bastard Ashley Cole.
Okay, so it is ridiculously late at night, but this East Coast Bitch just had to suffer through some ridiculous fucking Phillies baseball (seriously, why does Adam Eaton/Tom Gordon/the fact that Rod Barajas can suddenly put the wood on the ball hate me?) and then I got stuck in traffic trying to get home from the city because the Schuylkill is fucking ricockulous, no matter what, and I may be rambling.
Anyway, Nobody Cares But Maggie, but Portsmouth won the FA Cup earlier today. Over Cardiff. I figured I should mention it.
I'm paralyzed by not caring, as the match itself was horrifically boring, by all accounts, and Cardiff is the fifth second tier team to face Portsmouth this season's FA Cup schedule, which is akin to letting the Mets get away with playing the Nationals and the Orioles to get to the World Series, only to beat the Tigers in four. Basically? Lame.
Really, the match was only notable because Aaron Ramsay became the youngest player to EVER play in an FA Cup match at SEVENTEEN, which makes me feel both out of shape and old, simultaneously.
The sad thing is that Comcast Cable actually tried to charge me $25 to watch the game on Pay-Per-View. Y'all, that is why it sucks to be a stateside soccer fan- we get shit scheduling from Fox Soccer Channel and then we have to pay to watch the semi-important matches.
They are, however, broadcasting the Chelsea/Manchester United European Cup Final match on Wednesday, which means I'm going to have to do some creative juggling with my schedule.
Look, people, Euro 2008 is coming. That means exactly two things. 1) That means ALL KINDS OF SOCCER UPDATES from yours truly, and 2) EUROVISION.
People, if I can teach you nothing, it is that Eurovision is the most COMPLETELY FUCKNG CRACKED OUT THING YOU WILL EVER SEE IN YOUR ENTIRE EXISTENCE ON THIS EARTH, and you will ADORE IT FOREVER, if you give it a shot. Seriously, it makes the only fun part of American Idol (the part where all the terrible singers embarrass themselves trainwreck-style) look tame.
So yes. Ronaldo (AC Milan, not Man U, sadly) drops his girlfriend off, goes and picks up three hookers, does some drugs, if you believe the hookers, and then flips shit when he discovered that his hookers came with a bonus feature. And I am left laughing my ass off, because...really? Three tranny hookers? I mean, one was enough for Eddie Murphy. (Note: If Cristiano Ronaldo ever gets caught with three tranny hookers, you will hear my whoops of sheer glee from space, because I hate that bastard and I hope he hurts himself in spectacular fashion in just enough time to lose Man U the championship. And I'm an Arsenal supporter, so the fact that I want Chelsea to win? Should say something.)
My point is, this week has been a bit crazy for athletes that can't keep their dick in their pants. I'd advise noted manwhore Kyle Farnsworth to maybe keep it zipped up while he serves his suspension for nearly beaning Manny Ramirez. Who knows what could happen if that crazy motherfucker got into trouble? I'm guessing it would involve several surface to air missiles, an army of midgets, at least six donkey shows and a trumpet, just for fun.
Here, have a picture of reformed manwhore Pat Burrell. (I say reformed only because he's a newlywed. I don't really believe it.) That's not sweat glinting off his shoulders. That's the funny syphilis.
Chelsea? 2. (Both scored by Michael Ballack. I am guessing he won't need to buy his own pints around Blues supporters for quite some time after that shiny, shiny game.)
Manchester United? 1. (Scored by Wayne Rooney, my secret soccer sicksadwrong crush.)
Ronaldo? Riding pine for the first 3/4 of the game.
Look, I know nobody cares but Maggie about this shit, but this is the equivalent of the Red Sox making it to game 4 of the World Series, leading 3-0 and deciding that Manny Ramirez needs a day off. It's completely fucking inexplicable.
The frontrunning douchebags that support Man U have got to be absolutely livid. (It's worth noting, speaking of frontrunning douchebags, that the Yankees and Man U signed a ridiculous marketing pact back in 2001. Like attracts like, is all I'm saying.) I mean, a win would have killed Chelsea for the season. Hell, a draw would have put Man U solidly in position for the title.
But no. It was Ronaldo's turn for a day off, and so he sat. Well, he sat until partially through the second half when Ferguson figured out that perhaps he should play the guy that got them to this point and put him in as a replacement for Rooney. Unbelievable. How is there not rioting about this? (Wait, there probably is.)
As I complained about last night, we couldn't really watch the game stateside, so I didn't get to see it. Apparently, Nemenja Vidic was carried off the field after he split his lip in a collision with Didier Drogba's knee. I need to see this footage, people. Need.
I love soccer. It's so fucking violent. Case in point: I just watched Sunderland's Cameron Jones and Middlesbrough's Emanuel Pogatetz (who is now working on his second yellow card in about five minutes) knock heads so hard that I thought Jones was dead for a solid sixty seconds. Jones, for the record, is currently back in the game with a huge bandage wrapped around his head. (Seriously, Pogatetz is just stalking Jones now. It's kind of fucking creepy.)
Anyway, since I hate Man U about sixty times more than I hate Chelsea, let's salute Michael Ballack for his Superman-like performance against the Red Devils. Michael Ballack, I raise my Diet Coke to you, sir.
(I told you people you should watch more soccer. Dude's pretty.)
Okay, look, Fox Soccer Channel. I've offered to bear your tiny digital babies before, since you let me roll out of bed every Saturday morning and watch nothing but soccer all day long. EPL, Italian League, MLS, you name it. I can fall asleep watching you and dream of nothing but sweaty men with clearly defined calf muscles running around and shouting.
But seriously, I kind of love you. I mean, I'm an Arsenal supporter, and Lord knows you've fallen all over yourself to provide me with nothing but Arsenal matches all season. This lady's not going to complain.
Here's a question, though. This weekend? Is Chelsea/Manchester United. And it's kind of a Big Fucking Deal. And what are you airing?
Day/Date
Home/Visitor
Kickoff (ET)
Sat./April 26
Sunderland/Middlesbrough
10:00 AM
Sat./April 26
Tottenham/Bolton
12:00 PM*
Sat./April 26
Wigan/Reading
2:00 PM*
Sun./April 27
Everton/Aston Villa
11:00 AM
EXCUSE THE FUCK OUT OF ME? The clincher for the Prem is airing and you're going to make me watch Tottenham and Bolton? I...I don't even understand.
Here's the clincher, kids. The title deciding fucking game of the entire Premiere League is getting shuttled off to their secondary cable network. How secondary is the network? So secondary that there are exactly two pubs in the entire Philadelphia region that even carry the fucking channel.
I can't even begin to wrap my brain around this, you guys. This is like the Super Bowl being carried on the NFL Network.
Whatever, have a picture of Wayne Rooney, because at least he's a fucking thug. Note: He's not remotely hot, and I apologize for that, but I kind of love him anyway. Tell no one.
Note: I'm actually hoping for a plane to land on the stadium and take out both teams.
