Showing posts with label West Ham;. Show all posts
Showing posts with label West Ham;. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Carlton Cole at 20/1
Never bet on a West Ham striker - let down by Robbie Keane last year and by Carlton Cole this year.
In better form than last year
Phoenix from the flames
Brilliant photograph in yesterday's Times by Bradley Ormesher featuring a on-pitch conflict between Niall Quinn (whose disco pants are the best) and Gerry Taggart. It mentioned that Ormesher was Sports Photographer of the Year a few times and a Google search revealed some of his classic photos, two of which are below.
The second one is of the horrible tackle which ended David Busst's career at Old Trafford. Also came across a picture of Ormesher mimicking a soldier in Red Square and I immediately thought of Mise Le Meas's brilliant impersonations over the weekend - first of Bobby Moore holding the Cup in 66 and then of Geoff Hurst scoring the fourth goal - "They think it's all over - it is now".
Monday, April 30, 2012
Boleyn Inn London EC4
How do we best describe Saturday afternoon in the Boleyn Inn?
A further experience in life’s rich tapestry; a near-death experience; a foolish decision we got away with or a good laugh and a chance to sing about bubbles as though they were central to our existence.
All of these I think.
Maybe it’s that we’re getting old and I can’t face this kind of thing anymore. My diminishing ability to
1. blend in with these people if needed
2. rationalise with them if 1 doesn’t work
3. run if 2 doesn’t work
may be influencing my decision but whatever way you look at it, Saturday’s experience is right up there is terms of dodgy moments I could have done without. I also have to admit that with sparring partners in Chelski and Lise Le Meas, it was evident that most of us were going to be leading with our chins in any boxing matches which did break out. I decided not to share my concerns with them just in case it unnerved them, thus making us stand out more than my Irish accent and grey hair was allowing. Instead I sang the first verse of “I’m forever blowing bubbles” over and over again and tried to look as though I was there deliberately. And me missing my blood pressure tablets, fucking hell.
I still haven’t recovered.
A further experience in life’s rich tapestry; a near-death experience; a foolish decision we got away with or a good laugh and a chance to sing about bubbles as though they were central to our existence.
All of these I think.
Maybe it’s that we’re getting old and I can’t face this kind of thing anymore. My diminishing ability to
1. blend in with these people if needed
2. rationalise with them if 1 doesn’t work
3. run if 2 doesn’t work
may be influencing my decision but whatever way you look at it, Saturday’s experience is right up there is terms of dodgy moments I could have done without. I also have to admit that with sparring partners in Chelski and Lise Le Meas, it was evident that most of us were going to be leading with our chins in any boxing matches which did break out. I decided not to share my concerns with them just in case it unnerved them, thus making us stand out more than my Irish accent and grey hair was allowing. Instead I sang the first verse of “I’m forever blowing bubbles” over and over again and tried to look as though I was there deliberately. And me missing my blood pressure tablets, fucking hell.
I still haven’t recovered.
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