Liverpool: A draw on the pitch, a loss to the XI, and snow in my shoe.

Getting to Nevada’s is always a pain from Queens, but this morning was especially bad. The three man army had all gone drinking at a local bar the night before (bar Christmas party, very cool), and all arose with too little sleep in their heads and too many beers in their bellies. The walk to the train was a hateful journey, as the rain was turning all the snow on the ground into slush. I also discovered that my shoe had a hole in the sole. Fun times.

But we persevered, and got to the church ahead of schedule. Our normal spot was taken by a variety of unknowns, so we grabbed a little space by the center of the bar. A bunch of boisterous Man U fans were celebrating their victory in the Club World Cup. Mark well described the Club World Cup as ‘that extra handjob you get for winning the Champions League”. Well said. We had a pint and chilled, the energy a little off due to the dank. That bald guy with the Goatee (nicknamed Goat) got the singing off nice and early, but kind of laid into the Liverpool fans a little too much and too early. Now while it is true that if I was asked if I heard those Skousers sing I would have to reply that in fact I don’t hear a fucking thing, lets let the game get going before that. Although, it is true that they will never win in England.

The game itself started promising. We looked dominant in the beginning, and Robin had a tremendous goal. But god damn that sunabitch Robbie Keane getting a set-up from a long ball and getting it past Manuel (who had some excellent saves, especially that free kick from Gerrard).

The second half, everyone was on edge. The bar was as packed as I had seen it in a while, and people wanted that those three points. Seeing Cesc not come back also scared the shit out of everyone (Update. FUCK!). And then the ref lost it. When Ade got the second booking, people lost it. In general, the second half was filled with some shady shit all over, and this was the high point. People at the bar were screaming. This woke up some of the Liverpool fans, who slowly began to cheer. But those Skousers could not do anything with the gift, and the game was a draw.

I had to bail to get to work on time, which was probably for the best given the feeling in the room. I had only had two beers, which feels like the perfect amount to have before work.

I am off for our next couple games, but will return in January, hopefully to see some new blood brought into the squad. Come on Arsenal!

Wigan gets beat, Eboue gets booed, Nick gets tipsy

It was a cold and lonely Saturday morning. The four man army had been felled by sickness/travel/up-all-night, and I was the lone soldier riding the N train to church. I arrived downtown, got by pre-game bagel (I am very in favor of this new tradition, as it helps with the drinking) and grabbed my usual spot at the end of the bar. I met two older Englishmen, one claiming to be a season ticket holder. It always amazes me the number of people who stumble into our little bar from across the pond. The faithful began filing in, a little later than normal. I forget that in these colder months, I don’t need to get to the bar quite so early for a seat. More sleep for Nicko.

The game was not so exciting. An early walk-in goal from Ade put us up, but we could not add to it at all. RVP continues to go high and wide, and Denilson hit the post so hard I swore I heard it in NY (In general, Denilson had a much better game than he has had in a while). Yet Wigan couldn’t put anything together either, so we were fine. Devo called the game ‘cagey’ but I felt safe the whole time. We should have put another two on the board, but three points is three points.

The Atmosphere at Nevada’s was lacking too. I suspect this was due to the cold, as the bar was a tad lighter, and everyone seemed lower in energy. The Captain, that scruffy guy (you know the one), and myself led some songs, but it took a little doing. The Captain did give me a pound after I was the only one who would sing the Sagna song with him (Sagna I still contest is our most consistently strong player). The Captain took this opportunity to break out some rarer songs that no one knew. I do want to learn the Denilson “Black Hole Sun” song though.

A word on the Eboue debacle. He sucked. You know what, he normally sucks. While we may have been fooled by this lesser sucking before he got injured, we are now reminded of his natural state of high degree suck. While I do not agree with booing anyone in an Arsenal jersey (it’s not like he is down thinking, “wait, the fans disprove of my sucking, well then I shall suck no more”), Eboue is just bad. That’s the way it is. I am amazing the whole thing became the issue that it did.

There was a rumor that Abramovich was watching the Chelsea match in the basement with two bodyguards at the same time as the Arsenal game. . I didn’t see the bastard, but if he was down there, never more have I wished for a cave-in.

Not much to add. A win is always lovely, even if it ain’t pretty, and a morning at Nevada’s is always fun, even if it ain’t jumping.

Stamford Bridge is falling Down...

Sunday after Thanksgiving was a big day, a double Derby day. Manchester in the morning, London in the later morning. I rose up, hung over from over-eating all weekend and over drinking all night, and went to meet Devo at the train. We rode down to Nevada’s and arrived at the end of the Manchester derby. The staff tried to basement us (bastards) so we went and got bagels while the game ended and the bar cleared out. We grabbed our normal spot at the bar, and watched the faithful roll in; the bar was already warm with the body heat of Man U supporters. The Chelsea fans came in, and started talking smack early on. We were worried, but not afraid. This would probably be the toughest game we had all year in the premiership, facing arguably the best team in England on their home turf. Pints in hand, we readied ourselves for the worst.

The first half gave us little hope. An own goal put us down 1 nil, and we were having a hard time finding the back of their net. Gallas had a kind of reverse Gallas game, where he was strong as a center back, but could not get those clutch goals he is so good at getting in big games. Even the return of Ade could get us nothing. The singing was also off. We had lots of supporters, but it was hard to unite the faithful into one clear song. Everyone seemed unfocused.

The second half, lady luck smiled on the boys in red and white. The linesman went out for a pint at the same moment that RVP slams one past Cech to tie the score. Devo is screaming, and thanking God there is no instant replay (hey, we have been screwed by the Linesman before, so I will take it). Mere minutes later, the flying Dutchman makes it a deuce to put us up. The faithful areoverwhelmed with joy. The singing is still disjointed, but the energy is up. And the most impressive thing, team Chelsea gets mighty quiet for about a half an hour. It is not until near the end of the game, where we ask if you can hear Chelsea sing (cause I don’t hear a fucking thing!) that they wake up, and cheer their team into a home loss. As the final whistle went out, Devo and I howled for five minutes after the match. The Captain’s sidekick (the skinny Asian kid who drinks all the sprites) rode the Captain like a donkey. The crowd was elated.

After the match, Devo and I had a celebratory round. We said goodbye to Dreads (who continues his tradition of a post-game ‘smoke’) and met the infamous PADWEA (whom Mark still believes does not exist). As it turns out, PADWEA is one of the founding members of The NY Gooners supporters club, so we owe much of this insanity to him. Good on ya PADWEA.

So the title is a possibility again, and more importantly, no annoying emails from my Chelsea supporting friends. What could be better then that.

READ THE BLOGS!

Like this delightful one. (above picture: Nick vs. The Sun)

So I've been off the blog for a bit since Nick has found a new passion for writing and nothing ridic-tacular has happened for me to poke fun at. Except maye this:

 Now, we all had a reason to be angry on saturday morning against City. In my opinion, we had three. I won't name them, but one of them is five years younger than me and two are six years younger than me. (I don't count Hoyte cause that was like chuckin Kitt Kittredge into a Michael Vick dogfight) Let's face it, we sucked a bit. I've never been one to panic, and so, I'm don't feel we are in crisis, but our lack of depth and performance do ask questions of a man who I won't name, though he is 33 years older than me. We did kinda play with the same intensity of my morning crawl to the bathroom; in fact, I think Bendtner's play can pretty much be summed up by the that half-burp/half-almost-vomit thing I do when I'm hungover.

So, as I said, we all had a reason to be angry. But I think this one guy showed up angry from somewhere else. Maybe, he was a victim of the economic downturn (Arsenal could probably use a bailout) or maybe his beloved had eloped with a Chelsea fan. Maybe, just maybe, he realized the inherent meaningless of life and felt alone and isolated to the point where he had wnadered into Nevadas in hopes that Arsenal's fast paced passing and intricate schemes could provided him with a glimmer of light in a dreary world. 

Yeah, he was pissed.

Now, if I can stay upbeat down 3 nil after two red bulls and no booze, then this guy has no excuse for his temper. At possibly every Arsenal mistake, Sir Furious (I won't name him, but he's 67% more of a cunt than me) would loudly curse the Arsenal members, screaming this and that to no end like he was having angry sex with the basement flatscreens. Now, I'm as Gunn-ho as the next fella, but this sort of negative attitude is simply uneccesary. We all know Denilson played with a brillance akin to Nick's hacking cough and that Diaby likes to mix up his drinks rather than take a fuckin shot, but don't ruin everybody's good time cause you wanna be the first to say it. You wanna bitch about how Eboue dives and Song telegraphs his passes, then write a blog.

Sir Furious just kept going though until The Captain stepped in. If you don't know this fella, then you must be down at the Clock End of Highbury. He is big and bold and can make up songs so fast, you kinda wonder whether he prepares them at home. Anywho, he popped on over and tried to give Sir Furious a warm shoulder to cry on (a St. Andrews Stadium to his William Gallas) but this man was not having it. As The Captain tried to convince him that anger was not the way, Sir Furious became Bendtner-like in his tirade and even provoked the watchful eye of Kieran from the bar. The battle to decide whether we should bash Arsenal or just "relax" was a mighty one, and Gooners in Exile watched in horror. But much like poor Nicklas, all Furious' efforts fell flat, resulting in a final desperate attempt to prove Arsenal's failure: "READ THE BLOGS!"

Now I know from experience that you can't invoke Arseblogger to your cause. Gunnerholic does not appear like Beetlejuice if you call his name three times. But Sir Furious felt he could call down the mighty bloggers from their internet to smite all joy. He was wrong, and in crafty so weak an argument, gave us all a reason to laugh. Which we needed after we went down 3 nil. After that, we had a bit of fun and got really jacked up for the Carling Cup.

So in closing, I have two pieces of advice for all you Gooners in Exile. You can't change what happens in Europe. It's way too far away, so relax. Come to the greatest of bars with a smile on your face and a good song to sing; whatever happens (which you Gooners did so well this weekend). Just take each game by itself and remember that you don't have to cheer for Newcastle or Tottenham who are truly in trouble. If your gonna bash the team, do what I do, bash Adebayor. It's consistent, usually right, and you both will smile about it. Plus, he always makes it up to you.

And secondly, READ THE BLOGS!! (but don't let them make your opinions for you)

 

fin

Well, those were a group of proper Villians

Well crap.



I headed to Nevada’s at the saner out of 9am, hoping for a repeat of last weeks victory against Man U. I was first to arrive, with Devo, and Mark close behind. Ajrun showed up bring his ladyfriend in tow. We all ordered our drinks, but Devo was not drinking, and Arjun’s ladyfriend wanted an Absolut Vanilla and coke. To say I was taken aback would be an understatement. But the lady was adamant, so I spoke to Jack. He got us the beers and asked what the other drink was. I told him, in the most apolgetice voice “Absolut Vanilla and coke”.

His response. “…. Wow.”

A Nevada’s first ladies and gentlemen.

The regular crew began to assemble. Elais and Dreads took their corners. The Captain took his spot on the helm. Blond Beard came by and hung out. A good band for what should be a great game.

But it was not to be.

Passion was the missing ingredient that morning. The team did not seem to have that extra fire. Bendter looked particularly bad, and playing Cesc up front did nobody good. I had such high hopes when Manuel stopped that penalty shot, but it was not to be. Not even the addition of Ade and Vela could yield anything for us. By the way, man does the Captain love Vela. He broke out like three different songs for the guy. Also, why did the Captain keep taking off clothing during the match? Weird.

The one high point was that the singing never stopped. Even as the game ended and we watched any hope of the title drift away, the Church was full of the voices of the faithful screaming “We love you Arsenal”. But kudos to the Villa fans for holding their own with a couple of good songs. Save that one guy who sung stupid songs by himself. We had to put him in his place once or twice. I feel that there are more supporter clubs now then there used to be. More teams seem to have representation at Nevada’s

I wasn’t drinking that morning, and had errands so I did not stick around to commiserate. So nothing wacky happened. Next week we head to Man City. I am nervous, but live in hope.

Nothing kills a man slower and more horribly than hope.

Who the F@#&%*k are Man United!

Now, that almost makes up for the two weeks.

I had been remiss in my futbol viewing, missing the Tottenham debacle, the Stoke failure, and the Champions league ‘eh’. But they had taken their toll on me, and I was nervous as I awoke Saturday morning.

I arrive in the East Village at 6:15. Since I was early, I grabbed a hot butter bagel, which would be key later (beer being easier to drink when it has something to play with in your stomach). I got to the Church at 6:35, first one in line. Hell I was there before Kieren. One does have to ask themselves a question or two as they stand alone outside a bar in the morning waiting for open, but not on such a day as this. I waited patiently out in the dark, watching the other faithfull arrive. It did amaze me how many people walked past me to the door. No, it’s open, I am just standing out here in the cold and the dark without a cigarette cause I enjoy it. Get back in the Line! But as Jack promised, the door flung open at Seven am, and I was the first to get a pint.

Mark and Arjun eventually arrived, Mark kind enough to bring my kit. We were also joined by Blonde Beard, I chap we had met last year on the 3-2 10 man comeback game. We all feared the worst but hoped for the best, and giggled as friends when Van Persie showed up dressed as Zoolander. But the time had come and the game was off.

Now the best part of the game was that we played like we should be playing. The defense looked less broken, Diaby proved why Wenger believes in him, and Cesc played like Super Cesc Fabergas. And god bless the king of New Highbury, for both his joy but terror inducing first goal (being up 1 nil is like getting away with the perfect murder, technically you should feel good but at any minute it could all fall apart), and his more reassuring second goal. It did help that United looked off, Ronaldo was at half steam, and Rooney was shooting like he was on International duty.

The viewing experience was mostly jubilant, with tinges of terror that it would all fall apart at any minute (man, Rafael’s shot was intense). Dom showed up at halftime to bolster our ranks (Dom is quickly earning a slot as an alternate in the 4 man army). Not even Arjun knocking my entire beer over could bring me down. We even outsung the Man U fans three times over, not something that happens often. It got to the point where Portly Asian Dude With English Accent (or PADWEA) had to break out “Do you hear United sing (cause I don’t hear a fucking thing). Although I have never seen or felt a longer stoppage time in my life. Six minutes for kicking our keeper in the face. We did not get that when Eduardo got his foot kicked off.

After the match, Mark, Arjun, and Blonde Beard enjoyed a celebratory shot and brew. I declined, due to work later, but did commiserate with a lovely lady who also had to go to work after the match. Take what you can get.

I had a good chat with Blonde Beard about what this meant for the Season, and headed off. This was the first in a series of tough matches for us, and I hope we keep this level of play up. In typical fashion, at our best we can beat just about anybody, we just got to do that every match.

I am on a one beer limit for the next two matches, leading up to a 2 derby Sunday after thanksgiving, but I will be at the Church, milking my single Harp and singing along. Come on you Gunnnnnnnners.

EPL #9, Going to West Ham

Thank you England for having a different daylight savings than us Yanks. It means I get an extra hour of sleep and can still follow your crazy sports. This Sunday, I did not have to hit the Church until noon. Drinking at noon isn’t even weird.

I arrived solo at Nevada’s around 11:30, to a dismal sight. My normal spot is infesting with Skousers. The Liverpool fans were celebrating their win over Chelsea, and they were hogging the corner where we normally sit. Damn Skousers. I took post at the center of the bar, and waited for Devo and Margaret. I was just left of the West Ham crew, who started the singing early. Good boys. While the rest of the faithful was there, we were spread out, which gave a bit of an echo effect to the songs, but Devo and I brought the noise.

It is sort of sad having Theo being so good internationally, because all the old “Where is your Englishmen/ You need more foreigners” singing has dried up a bit. We in fact have England’s, England’s number one, Green be damned.

The game itself was a tad tense. We had a lot of shots go wide, and could not close at all in the first half. It was a bit of a Goalie game, as both Green and Manuel had huge plays. But it all changed when the man who is always tall took the pitch. Ade made the difference, forcing an own goal (there should really be a stat for that, called fool-making or something) and scoring one outright on a great break. Corn-rows or not, you give him the ball and he will score.

Also, was it me, or was Gallas playing like he has something to prove. Which he kinda does. Prove it William.

I had to bolt out the door after the match, but it was a good win, and it keeps us competitive for the league. It is always good to be at Nevada’s with a bunch of different supporter groups, and even better to win in front of them.

So it looks like I will be at work for the North London Derby, or possibly at a pot luck lunch (don’t ask). So either way, no mid week Nevada’s. I may just watch the game on my computer, distracting the entire office as I scream at a gamecast. Will check back in with you about that.

One derby down, one to go.

Tribute to a Great Gooner: Juande Ramos

As skipper of Gooners in Exile, I would personally like to congratulate Juande de la Cruz Ramos Cano for his great success in bringing joy to Gooners around the world by sinking arch rival Tottenham Hotspurs to the bottom of the Premier League. Thank you Juande for not only spending all of Tottenham's money, but also raising their sad expectations before dashing them down toward the Championship. But you, great gooner that you are, even went beyond the call of duty by keeping Chelsea from taking 3 points at Stamford and losing by 1 goal in 5 of your 8 games which must have thrilled you as you watched those wanky hotspur fans in agony. Ramos, we will miss you. Your mother was twice the whore that Mrs. Redknapp could ever be.  

Champions League: Sticking it to Fenerbahce

What’s better than getting Tuesday off work? Getting the Tuesday off work where Arsenal head to Turkey for some Champions League footer. BooYa.

For the first time ever, I went alone to Nevada’s, as the rest of the Army had work. Aided by some pre-game beers from home and a Blue 9 Burger, I set up shop in the church by my lonesome. Of course, you are never alone Nevada’s. The dreads guy from the Everton game showed up (hereby known as Dreads until I can think of a better nickname/ learn his Christian name), as did Elais and some other of the faithful.

Although if you have to go to a soccer game by yourself, this was the one to go to. It was like both teams met beforehand and decided that it would be more fun if no one played defense. Hell, even Silvestre went for a goal, he just got confused. I had not yet finished texting Mark about Ade’s goal before Theo put one in the back of the neck. Ramsey getting his first goal was just icing on the cake. Also great to see Diaby have a key game (we may have a midfield at some point).

The only complaint, no singing. It has been noted that the Champsion’s League crowd is more subdued than the EPL boys, but this was ridiculous. Two actual British people who sat next to me joined in for a tune or two (It always amuses me that people visit America from the UK and end up in this British bar, it’s like going to a Burger joint in Germany), as well as The Kid (that one Arsenal fan who is clearly underage, but whatever) but that was it. Come on boys, let’s get a little singing in if we are kicking that much ass.

After the match, I took some time and hung out with the faithful. Elais and I discussed Wenger’s strategy over a pint and one of those ‘I’m on Setanta Sports’ skits (which are freaking hilarious). Jack comped me a pint or two as I talked the visiting Brits. Then I went out into the courtyard and talked to Dreads, The Kid, and a female Man U fan who told me that ‘you can’t trust skousers with money’. Life lessons at the Church. I don’t think I had ever ventured into the back yard at Nevada’s, but feel I may have to more often.

It’s good to know that you always got a friend at Nevada’s, as long as you roll with the boys in red and white.

We got two London derbies coming up next week. I am not sure I can make either of them, but hope to post something next week anyway. Here’s for 6 more points come next weekend!

EPL Week 8, Everton

Hello all. New Guest write Ward here, relaying the boy’s adventure for the Everton visit.

Mark and I braved the early morning cold (We have officially hit the point in the season where the warmth of your bed in the morning makes you question your love of Drunk in the Morning FC) to get to church. The Chelsea game was on when we arrived, and to no surprise it was as quiet as a mouse. We took position at the center of the bar, at Jack’s advise, and began chatting up the other Gooners. We met a guy with dreads who had just moved back to the states from London, and was thrilled that there was a place for the footer. A heated debate about the worth of William Gallas broke out (Gallas has replaced Ade as the new Arsenal player the fans love to hate) and I threw in my two sense, mostly defending the guy due to his frequent game-changing goals.

The game was a good one, we came back from 1 nil to take it. The usual rants about the team “poor defense’ and such still stand, but three points are three points any way you slice it. The fans were not as boisterous as usual, which I blame on breaking up the Arsenal group, which usually corrugates at the end of the bar. Also we lacked many key players (Arjun, Devo, The Captain) which did not help. We did try a little “North End of Highbury” but the clock end was about 4 feet away from the North End. No Good.

The Liverpool game was also showing, and there is nothing more fun than messing with the Skousers. Hubris got a song war going, which he won with his “You’ll never win the league when I’m alive” chant. Liverpool fans are fun, because they love their songs, but we hate them so much less than Chelsea and Man U.

With the game done, we hit off 99 Miles to Philly for some sweet sobering cheese steaks.

Coming up next, Champion’s League Tuesday.

Premier League #1: West Brom

The man who has everything...

That's what you're looking at. It's 7:30 in the morning, but that man is smiling into his pint of joy. Because the all or nothing days are back. Premier League footer is once more alive and well at Nevada Smith's. Wenger is back. The Royal Arsenal is back. But, more importantly, AM Drunkards FC is back...

and we're gonna win the Treble!

Nick and I arrived second to the Church sometime around too fracking early. We were beat out by some Everton fan who bore a striking resemblance to McLovin. As we waited outside, we got to witness the majestic Gooners coming out of hibernation. Bleary eyed and weak from lack of off season transfers , they slowly converged on their feeding ground, hungry for beautiful goals.

They didn't have to wait long. Jack thrust open the mighty, sun blocking door and we entered the house that Steve McQueen built. It smelled vaguely of ammonia, and looked as pristine and beautiful as a young french import scoring his first goal in Arsenal colors.

Like a boy on Christmas morning, Young Sammy Nasri couldn't wait to open up his present, which turned out to be a GOOOOOOOAL! It took three minutes to get us on top but, before you start talkin' about "top o' the league", I should point out that AM Drunkards FC was already up 4 nil by that point. Greatest team... the world has ever seen. Ours is a elegant, attacking style that is entertaining to watch, but very vulnerable to counter attack.

 On the matter of morning drinking, it should be mentioned that Nick blatantly broke all of our rules for drinking in 08/09. In order to save lives, ours, we set a 3 drink per game limit. One for pre-game, and one for each half. Nick repeatedly agreed to this rule until he actually had to abide by it, citing such spurious reasons as "it's the opener" and "we never factored in

 half-time". How could we not have factored in something that happens every game? Nick also has a strange bit of programming which renders immune to advice, especially his own. So we (yes we) drank many more  beers than we planned.

 

The gang showed up in typical fashion. Devon arrived just in time to not get a seat but still kept bugging Nick and I for ours, while Arjun, with his legendary accuracy, made it for the second half. How does he manage to be so precisely late every time? He's like the Clock King in the wrong time zone. Sinai and all manner of old favorites from last season were on hand, but young Elias was nowhere to be found. Maybe he's injured, or perhaps he defected to an AC Milan bar for more money. Who can say?  

Anyway, the game was pretty low key after the opening salvo. The early rise coupled with the lack of a formidable opponent or any opposing crowd made for the kind of easy-going stupid you sometimes need. The boys looked good although all my concerns about the center of our midfield and defense were confirmed. I like Djourou and especially Denilson, but I don't think we want to trust the title challenge to them every week. Gallas looked a bit off as did Walcott, but I think that's because his "boy wonder" status is under assault by Monsieur Nasri. All in all, it was maximum points for the boys in red and white. What else can you ask for?

a signing

It's off to Craven Cottage and chance for three more points. I may not be there, as the 4-Man Army is out of order, but we'll see. Stay strong exiles.

 

Sheffield Charity Poster Warms Heart/Terrorizes the Shit Out of Me

Seriously, what the fuck happened to that Teddy Bear? He's missing an eye! Did he step on a plush land mine? Who made this? And why is it still cute? He won't be so cuddly in a month when he only has an eye patch on.

This is only a soccer joke because I found it on the Sheffield Wednesday website. The Owls have just managed to raise 5,000 pounds for the care of sick children and maimed teddies.

In an unrelated story, Manchester City have offered Ronaldinho 200,000 pounds a week to play soccer. Huh.  

England to Experiment with New Formations, New Overrated Players, and New "Don't Fuck it Up" Strategy ahead of USA Friendly

Capello says "Well, we don't really have any thing going on this summer, so sure. I mean, USA didn't qualify for Euro 08 either, so they it should be an even match. But this a chance to explore new avenues of play like not stepping on others player's groins, actually scoring penalty kicks, and my controversial "never pass the ball to Paul Robinson" game plan. Maybe these will be the key improvements that will allow us to duke it out in the future with such European giants as Turkey and Romania. We'll see."

89 Million Manchester United Fans Thrilled to not have to buy Chelsea Shirts after Champions League Final

Millions of the fair weather fans around the globe rejoiced on Wednesday evening as Edwin Van der Saar secured the Champions League Crown for Manchester United ensuring their place as the best team in the world and saving millions of United "supporters" the financial and emotional burden of having to become Chelsea "supporters" in their effort to back the biggest, must successful team in the world.

Here are some reactions from around the Globe.

"That was a close one" says Newcastle resident Gavin Terry "I mean I spent a lot of money on this Ronaldo kit. And he's never going to leave, so it's a sound investment. I can't imagine how many hours, maybe days of suffering I would have had to endure before getting a Ballack shirt had my United not have pulled it off."

In New York, fair weather fan Tom Allen was quoted as saying "I love United! Beckham is still my favorite player, and though I didn't watch the game last Wednesday, I heard he kicked some serious ass for them. Which is cool, cause though I've heard Didier whatever-his-name-is a real stand up guy, I really don't have the cash to blow on a Chelsea jersey right now.

The Jakarta United Fan Club voiced joy in a prepared statement to the press. "Manchester United is our favorite baseball team. They are number 1. They will always be our favorite baseball team and we hope to see one of their baseball matches someday."

But not all is well for some over eager "shit supporters". London fair weather twat James Dalton tells his tragic tale. "I thought I would get a jump on the competition by getting a Terry shirt before he took his penalty kick. I like to sport a defender's shirt since it makes me look like a real supporter, and I had to hurry so I could get a 2007/2008 version so people would think I had known this was coming all along. So I grab it on WorldSoccerShop, but then Terry falls on his arse! I always said he was overrated. Now I've learned my lesson, but I can't spend anymore of shirts after this and that Benjani Mwaruwari debacle earlier in the year (what was I thinking?). My only hope now is that Cristiano gets traded to Real Madrid because I already have a Madrid shirt that says Ronaldo on the back. Let's hope and pray."

John Terry Penalty Miss Clearly the Result of Bad Managing Says Abramovich

Chelsea Owner Roman Abramovich made clear today that the reason for former England captain and veteran defender John Terry's horrific missed penalty kick, and thus Chelsea's Champions League exit, can be blamed entirely on the poor coaching of Avram Grant. The 53 year old Isreali manager, according to Abramovich "obviously forgot to instruct Terry how to shoot ball at net during the many, many session of practice that I financed this year for glorious Chelsea Team".

Captain John Terry after realizing that Grant had never prepared him for the scenario.

New sigining Nicolas Anelka, one of the Premier Leagues most prolific scorers, also backed his owner claiming that Avram Grant made two major mistakes this year by refusing to play him as a lead striker and by not telling him that Edwin Van der Saar might try to block his penalty attempt.

Abramovich was not finished though. "All that Grant has done this year is pick up the pieces of shattered and demoralized team, keep comparable winning percentage to Mourinho, and taken Chelsea to within one penalty kick of Champions League glory. This is weak managing and willl not be tolerated at glorious Chelsea Football Club. Come on, this "man" cannot even explain the rules of Football to Didier."

Avram Grant had very little to say in return as he huddled in his home, crying over his own failure. All the broken man could say was "Keeping Drogba from cheating and getting a revered English player to not shit-the-bed in a shootout are the two greatest challenges a football manager can face. But Anelka missing a simple PK; that one is totally my fault".

Arsene Wenger Evicted from Home after Refusing to Spend on Rent

The Arsenal Manager on the street after declaring he would rather wander the land communing with beautiful nature than shell out some cash for an established and proven building.

Something to cheer us up....a little.

If you've got a second, take a look at this quality post from Arsenal-Land.

theArsenal

Many times I was Moon Champion

For all you 9 to 5 lab rats in the 4-man army here is my new favorite thing. If you can get away with You Tube at work, enjoy all the Jose Mourinho Setanta shorts which are almost as funny as the actual Jose Mourinho Interviews. Devo has probably already seen these, but others can still enjoy. There I just wasted 2 hours of your life.

Also watch these cause Ronaldo sucks. [1] [2]

God I Hate Wigan!

For some people, watching a sport is simply not enough. Some men get drunk while they watch. Some men spend all their time looking at stats which they will later use to annoy others. Some men buy vintage jerseys or other pointlessly expensive merchandise to prove they are fans. Some men gamble to increase the rush. I have chosen to hate.

Choosing to blatantly hate another team for no reason with a blinding rage has made futbol much more exciting for me. The thrill is further increased by the fact that I have randomly chosen to despise Wigan, who in no way deserves my vile fury. What have they done to us? Nothing. But fuck them anyway.

Thats right Wigan. I hate you and your miserable lives.

There. I feel better now.

No wait. My heinous bile has risen again and, while I normally try to maintain an atmosphere of sportsmanship and respect here at Gooners in Exile, I can't hold back with fuckin Wigan. Here are some photos.

   Yes, I'm a bad person. 

Ooh to be a Guller!

My second favorite team in all the futbol world, the Brighton and Hove Albion FC Seagulls are getting some new digs. If you recall from a previous post on my fantastic blog, we met some english type peoples from Brighton, Hove Albion and Sussex (which I suppose is like the mystery of the Trinity. All the same place and yet not) who taught us to love their Seagulls. Congratulations Gullers. Hopefully this will one day lead to ascension into the Premier League where we can bitterly crush your hopes twice a year with our expensive, Franco-African war machine. Lots to look forward to.

Arsenal vs Milan as described through an atrocious metaphor.

After Adam saw Eve give birth for the first time he, no doubt, thanked God under his breath for assigning such a painful duty unto womenfolk. But the Lord of Hosts turned to Adam and said "Whoa there slick. I will create for menfolk a trial which he shall cause him to scream and cry and curse all creation but which he shall tell his friends is "beautiful". And it shall be called Futbol." And the lord smiled, knowing in his omniscience, that one day I would suffer through a Wagnerian Ring Cycle of a match cringing, howling, and crying like a wayward babe only to end up in a pile of joyous laughter, in his mercy.

So we beat Milan 2-0 at the San Siro as I predicted to Devo. It was hard to watch to say the least. As the only member of the 4-Man Army who doesn't have a day job, I opted for watching in my fortress of solitude wrapped in my various gunner paraphernalia, a blanky and my most comfortable of pants. Then the cursing began.

"Damn Eboue. Do you work in investment capital during the week and only dabble in futbol on the weekends? Are you studying nights for a BA in Art History? Maybe you know terrible secrets of Arsene Wenger which you use to blackmail your way onto a big boy team. You are a professional footballer. What do you practice if not putting a ball into a net from point blank? Please stop actively removing years from my life you bastard."

I didn't say that but you get the point. Thank god Kaka was covered, Inzaghi thought he was in a friendly and Pato forgot to say "Shazam!" prior to the match. After the first 15, we were looking strangely like last years Arsenal, the cock-teasing bastards. All passing and no shots. We should seriously give Arsenal a free goal for every 100 consecutive passes they put together.

But like the grueling and excruciating miracle of childbirth, Fabregas pushed the ball through a narrow opening and brought a slippery little bundle of joy into my world. For weeks I have applauded every shot this man has taken because I knew one of these was coming. Good to have you back Cesc. 

After the abortions, miscarriages and one sudden infant death syndrome (Birmingham) in the last couple weeks, we have our virility back and hope that this new little Arsenal can grow up to be Champion.

Yeah, its not great, but you said you wanted posts, so screw you. You happy now?

  

Last Time on Gooners in Exile...

So I've been away for a while on a vacation to the islands of Xbox 360 and haven't blogged much. Here is a recap of all the games we missed.

Things in common:

I watched them all.

I was at Nevadas for all but the Carling Massacre.

They were all too early. Even the afternoon ones on Tuesdays.

I had beer.

Devo screamed his "Mind the gap" cheer really loudly and all alone.

Jakes was sick. I guess.

Newcastle did not score in any game I saw.

Things of note:

Devo was almost killed by a Chelsea fan, a Spurs fan, and probably some other people for his antics, which he does surprisingly sober. The Spurs fan in particular sized him up for a brawl after his squad lost their win against United. But he backed down because he was a loser, drunk, and saw me behind Devo flexing my neck. Don't tell Devo.

The Man U vs Arsenal FA Cup game NEVER HAPPENED. It was rained out and Arsene let Man U through to the next round out of courtesy.

Liverpool lost t0 some high school team in their FA match.

Young Elias was nearly head butted into an emergency room by some Man U thug who got a little nasty post match. Scrappy warrior that he is, Elias either bravely or foolishly kept at him. Ironically, he had tried to order an Irish Car Bomb earlier but Jack warned him that it caused fights. 

Eduardo received a minor injury to his foot. The one that had fallen off.

Manuel Almunia admitted to living in a haunted house. I think it's just Jens in a sheet fucking with him.

We bought donut holes for all the Arsenal faithful but discovered what we should have already known: No one in New York will eat anything a stranger gives them. Ever. More delicious dough for us then.

I had a bloody mary at 7:30 in the morning. And it saved my life.

Ward and I managed to keep from consuming 2 beers before the match had begun.

Jakes got a lot more sleep than the rest of us.

Last Bit:

I got new armor to celebrate Belarus' favorite son, Alexander Hleb. But you can call him "Alexander the Great", "Hleb and Flow",  "The World Wide Hleb", "Hlebster's Unabridged English Dictionary" and Vana White (cause someone needs to buy a vowel).

Thats the wrap up for the month of February (Hlebruary to some). Hopefully, I can be more elaborate in March. See you at AC Milan. 

Second chance for the Carling Cup side, eh?

With only 14 players available for tomorrow's FA Cup fixture, we're down to our carling cup squad. Now, more than ever, do we need to really get behind the team. See you all at Nevada's.
Chew on these:
Arsene Wenger interview
Martin Keown interview

Report: New Contract Might Give Fabregas Control of the Aquitaine.

Though Arsene Wenger has  not confirmed the report, it has recently been admitted that Cesc Fabregas, standout midfielder at the London club Arsenal, has been  offered 33 million pounds, the title of Duke, and the precious Aquitaine, an area on land long coveted by French and English Lords for centuries, so that he will remain at Arsenal. With his contract negotiation looming, many have asked the question of where Arsenal found the right to bestow this sovereign territory on he twenty year old Spaniard.

An anonymous source inside the club who goes only by the name "Canterbury" claims:

So that, as clear as is the summer's sun.

King Penin's title and Hugh Capet's claim,

King Lewis his satisfaction, all appear

To hold in right and title of the female:

So do the kings of France unto this day:

Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law

To bar your highness claiming from the female,

And rather choose to hide them in a net

Than amply to imbar their crooked titles

Usurp'd from you and your progenitors.

Though the BBC can make neither heads or tales of this arguement, the English FA has been happy to acknowledge that Lord Elect Fabregas be granted the "Mastery of All He Surveys" in the "New World" and "Any Thing Else He Fancies" as long as he keeps kicking an inflated ball in God's Country rather than Spain.

The sudden addition of the Aquitaine, though not approved by France, could lead to a profound shift in power from the EU to The People's Republic of Cesc Fabregas (Fabregascar some call it). Especially after spanish super club Sevilla offered Frank Lampard Greenland if he could just keep kicking toward the opponent's end of the field.

Though feudalism is dead and this seems a massive amount to offer any single man, Arsenal has assured the press that the move is covered in precedent, citing that Barcelona has granted control of the Southern Hemisphere to joint consuls Samuel Eto'o and Lionel Messi, Real Madrid has named Ruud van Nistelrooy "Pope of Everything", and Manchester United midfielder Ronaldo actualy owns the Moon and "pretty much everything beyond" according to Sir Alex Ferguson "just as long as he keeps diving in the box".

Fellow, less handsome, Arsenal midfielders Alexander Hleb and Mathieu Flamini are apparently allowed to leave their dungeons once a fortnight, given a crust of moldy bread, and are set to be buried alive with Fabregas in order to serve him in the afterlife under their current contracts.

When reached for comment Fabregas claimed "We will do our best to allow the commons every opportunity to improve and thrive upon our land of Fabregascar as per the grace of God"

On a side note, France has no say in the matter as, according to UN Secretary Kofi Annan, "they are constantly bitching and moaning about everyone else, and then only supplying the world with a steady export of bitching and moaning. So screw'em!".

Arsenal in NYC!

I love blogging about my wild times at Nevadas, but this is a noble cause. Granted I doubt we can have any say in the foreign round's location, but don't you want to try anyway? In the post below, I concocted the idea for a petition of Arsenal Fans in NYC to show that our city is the place for the Gunners next year if this foreign round malarky happens. If you are a Gooner in Exile, pledge your support by leaving a comment whilst I figure out how to make an internet petition. Meanwhile, I'll drum up some support from across the pond in an effort to make this memorable.  

Please write in for no other reason than I totally want to get Wenger out for a shot and a brew after the game. Its a dream.

Why the "Foreign Round" is the Best Idea in History

Now far be it from me to go against Arseblog (the blog from whence we all came) but I can't imagine why more EPL could ever be a bad thing. Especially if that footy might be played in my City here in the United States of The Best Ever. I'd like to go step by step through some Pros and Cons to really flesh out this issue from an America perspective. While I agree that this is a "money making idea" as Arseblog says, I think there is alot positive in this plan. I chalk most of the general aversion to this plan to old world conservative ways. Also, we on the same side here. Here are my thoughts.

Cons

1. More injuries. A problem but hardly significant with all the damn games anyway.

2. Who plays Who. Trickiest problem but it could be solved by a pairing up 1 vs 20, 2 vs 19 from last year (factoring in relegation) or from a set part of the season. Better yet would be a 1 vs 2, 3 vs 4, etc. in order to ensure great games and have an important impact on the championship. Just a thought. What about a bowl system picked by the EPL? Think outside the box people.

3. New season length affects records. Many sports have coped with rule changes and cross era player and team comparisons. This is actually a pro because it leaves more open to debate and conjecture (half the fun of sports). If baseball can handle this, then a sport with almost no stats should be fine.

4. Man U gets even more international fans. What can you do?

5. The EPL players realize that the world outside of England has sunshine, attractive females and palatable food, so they disband and travel the world. 

6. Something actually changes in England. Ever. Will the Monarchy crumble?

Pros

1. 90 more minutes of the beautiful game. What could be better.

2. Finally I don't have to watch a match at a time when only ninjas and crystal meth dealers are awake. You Euros try it some time. It's easy to be a Gooner at Tea Time. 

3.  We have built a great fan base here in NYC.

a. We now out cheer the ManU fans in a ManU bar.

b. I get at least two cheers a day as I walk down the street in my Arse Scarf.

c. We are mostly young Americans. A native fan base of Gooners.

4. Tottenham discovers they have no fans outside of White Hart Lane

5. Expanded awareness of the EPL. Especially in America where sport is way of life. The grounds are fertile, and we could use all the inspiration for our young Team USA.

6. The NFL came to London, and it went great. The NFL is a damn smart organization. Any league should take cues from them. 

7. A chance to establish the EPL as THE soccer league in the world.

8. Again, more of what we love.

9. Most important, Jack gets a day off a Nevada's.

Yes, this is a way to get more billions for so that players can sit in ridiculous future-sideline chairs, more overly dramatic music can be played, and prettier children can escort the players to the pitch, or whatever. But, if it makes more futbol happen, maybe near me, then let's do it.

Now my whole set of Pros is kinda based on Arsenal coming to NYC. This may not happen this year, but we can try to help. 

READ THIS NEW YORK ARSENAL FANS

I don't know how the EPL will plan this round (if it happens), but I think we should try to show the league how much we want Arsenal in NYC. This may not do the slightest good, but it'd sure be fun to try. I will start a website where you can pledge your support and I'll contact the EPL (who won't care), Arsenal and its American supporters groups. We have suffered long enough as Gooners in Exile. Unite and lets be heard! 

And then sometimes...this happens

The War is over folks. That's right, I was in a bar last nigh with Ward and others proudly sporting my Arsenal Scarf (1 part of my illustrious wardrobe) when the bartender told me as he refilled my Bass Ale that "Arsenal would never win the league". I jabbed back at this mad man about being top o' the league and all, but he gave me the glass-eyed look of a soul with no clue. It was then that I realized he was the pawn in a nefarious game masterminded by a United fan near the end of the bar. This masked "man" had, no doubt, offered several million pounds to the bartender for this blasphemous comment (overpaying as always United) but made himself known eventually. He turned out to be a good fellow named Milton who was sadly struck with "fair-weather sickness" and couldn't help supporting Manchester. 

Why would I tell this story? Because at one point in our banter he said the following phrase:

Arsenal is playing what I call "the beautiful game".

That's right. We are gorgeous! As if Old Red Nose had said it himself. We are playing sexy soccer that no one can deny. I pretty much declare this a victory over Evil and an admission of defeat from the 90 bigillion ManU "fans" around the world. Enough said.

Counter arguement? Screw U. It's my Blog.

Ta.

This Actually Happened

Here is a funny anecdote from the story of the 4-man amy:

Ward, longing for the better days of the Flying Dutchman RVP, decided to text Jakes one day. He intended to write "I miss Van Persie", but the cruel AI that runs his spell check sent off "I miss Van Persia" instead. A clever Jakes then replied "I miss Fabregascar"

I don't know where this island is, but I want to vacation there. Cause it's Fucking Dynamite.

RVP Frozen in Carbonite so that Future Generations of Goonners Might Cure Him.

Arsenal's absent striker, presumed dead by many, was revealed to be in fact alive though in a state of suspended animation in a secret complex underneath the former Highbury grounds.

Arsene Wenger, who personally activated the massive cooling contraption, finally admitted that there simply wasn't enough medical research available in order to fix a broken everything. 

"We are obviously filled with beautiful grief to lose Robin at this time. However, in true Arsenal style, we will pass him to another generation, who will probably pass him to another generation. Then they might consider making something of this opportunity, but they will likely elect to pass again. This might become frustrating to our fans, but eventually we will thaw him and rebuild him using bio-engineering so that he can compete with the superior robotic super players which Chelsea and Manchester will have purchased. Or maybe he'll be match fit by mid-february. C'est la vie."

When questions regarding the safety of the Dutchman were raised, one source declared: "He should be very well protected. If he survived the freezing process that is."

Emmanuel Adebayor: "I'm still not sure about that Abebayor guy"

Despite scoring eighteen goals in all competitions and ranking 3rd on Actim's list of top Premier League players, Arsenal striker Emmanuel Adebayor is, fortunately, still regarded as "a questionable striker" by many fans and players including striker Emmanuel Adebayor. 

"Sure, I've scored alot this year, but most of it was against Derby. Yeah, I had 3 there, and 2 at Tottenham, oh and at Fulham too, but I'm still confident I'll find a way to fail in the clutch. Did I forget about the two against Newcastle in the FA? Yeah I did." says the Togo international.

Claiming that he is currently "off his game" Adebayor has recently apologized to his longtime fans for such ridiculous "hiccups" in his play as his heartbreaking, jaw-dropping-chest-volley-spinning-hurricane-kick-goal against rival Newcastle which, to his disbelief, failed to go over the bar. 

"It was like Man United all over again" referring to his regrettable game winner at Old Trafford in 06-07, "I just didn't know what to do. I couldn't find an opposing defender or Thierry anywhere to pass to. Where has he been all year? Whatever, that's no excuse. I panicked and just kicked it and, well crap, I didn't think it would beat Shay Givens. He's really good."

In the stands Arsenal's faithful are also suffering from the "New Adebayor". "I mean he was my favorite player... to make fun of... you know, on my own team. But now he's lost it. I was there, talking shit every time he managed to pass it right into a defender or run it out of bounds. And oh, remember all the offsides? What went right?" asks a depressed fan. However, other more faithful supporters still remain adamant that he retains his trademark "lead-foot first touch", can still "give up possession right in front of the net" and "just plain fucking sucks".

Adebayor (above) suffers another crushing success

"I know people are looking for some of the old stuff from me and I want to thank those who continue to doubt me as world class player. I just ask them to remain patient while I get back to the fundamentals of failure. Times may be great, but I'm where I want to be. If you want to learn how to choke, bone or screw it all up in a big game, then England is still the place to be."

Whether Abebayor can return his beloved Arsenal to their glory days as over-elaborate underachievers or cause the team to spiral towards the title is still unknown. Only time will tell.

Someone you should know at Nevada's: Devo

Devo, aka Blog writer theArsenal, is the prime mover of our pack of Gooners. He was the first of my friends to be a Gooner. All his friends are Gooners. His girlfriend is a Gooner, and all his children will be Gooners. Devo has been Nevada faithful for years. 

Here are his stats:

Favorite Drink: Guinness

Favorite Player: Thierry Henry

Favorite Song/Chant: Ooh to be a Gonah!

Favorite Arsenal Gear: O2 Henry Jersey

Favorite Game: Arsenal vs. Man U 06-07 (2-1 Gunners)

Where you'll find him: Center of the Bar. Near Margaret. Trying to act cool.

Devo is obviously a devout fan but his greatest exploit to date certainly has to be his kamikaze trip to London with his dear Margaret...and no tickets. He had hoped to see this year's Chelsea game at Emirates and got lucky just the day before. I personally believe that being in London without being able to see the game would have killed (or at least crippled) the man. But no guts, no glory. 

Devo is also a funny guy and a fine man of stage and screen. In the interest of shameless promotion, here is a short film he did for yucks. I hope you like Friday Night Lights. 

Barnsley, Burnsley, Screw You Buddy! I'll Call Em What I Want.

No dream this time.

Because I didn't sleep. I pounded beers all night and hit the bar by 10 am.

I went to college for this. Yeah.

Here is a picture of it being early.

Here is another. It's cold, but Devo has given us the thumbs up to keep going. Ward is either showing off the love of his club, or giving the ladies a little ward-candy preview.

Then there was some of this.

 

Still no photo, no matter how artistically rendered, could capture how devilishly sloshed I was. 

Accept maybe this one.

At least my eyes are team colors. 

A game happened at some point. I don't really know. Here is poor, tired Jakes. Note how bleak his life is now that he must return to non-Arsenal things.

What a morning. 

Fan(s) of the Match: Devo, Ward, Jakes and anyone else who was forced to endure my drunken ravings. You are the real heroes.

Injury Report: Robin Van Persie's Head Has Just Fallen Off

Seriously. Is RVP dead? According to many reputable media sources:

Yes.

 Come on Arsene. You cant hide his handsome corpse forever. Or, perhaps he's on a secret mission for the Dutch. Maybe he's on the run from the law (probably for robbing Sunderland of a point). I like to think he ascended into Heaven, but that's just me. The point is, we'll never know because he'll never play soccer again. I don't think there has been a crunch time absence on the battlefield like this since Achilles. 

RVP just had to have that one cigarette at the airport.

Sorry, but I had to vent. Also I haven't blogged or been to the church/bar in awhile due to a touch of lazy and a lot of hangover. The birthday on Wii Night was greatness incarnate even though I never got to play the Wii. I shall tell all later. 

See you all on Saturday.

Here's a shot of the "White Pele" at his finest. Rest in Peace good buddy.

You know they're both contemplating a head butt.

January 8. Celebrate My Birthday with

There is only one place I'd go to celebrate my birthday. I have never played the Wii, but it seems like a physical sort of karaoke. As such, I imagine that I will look equally silly as I attempt some sporting task which I can not perform gracefully in either the real or virtual world. Thank you Japan. 

However, I can drink a beer. Very well. 

Thus I present an open challenge to anyone for a drunken wii battle.

Now it is on

Here is a picture of me looking ridiculous during karaoke. Just for your files.

2008 is the Best Year Yet! Premier League #21 West Ham

2008, so far.

I got up

I got dressed

I got on a train

I got a Bass

1 nil to the Arsenal

Best year ever. Thanks Eduardo.

I got me a new camera phone. It isn't much better than my previous heap o' junk. But that didn't stop me from snapping up the best Arsenal game of 2008. Here is a day in pictures.

Devo, ever cool, shows us the score.

Gooners in Exile. The mate on them left predicted Adebayor would do one amazing thing and that would be all. He was ever so correct. I still don't know how that ball warped through time and sapce to find the net.

Devo shows his fear in a brief moment of not being so cool.

A high angle shot of the Arsenal end of the bar.

Mt. Sinai sports her Arsenal scarf with pride. A true Lady Gooner, this woman got enraged with me because I watched the Pompey game in DC with my family rather than at Nevadas. It was a day after Christmas!

Fan o' the Match. This strange English man not only actively harassed the West Ham fans, but then laughed at their misfortune. Good on ya.

He apparently also has a lovely lady. I don't like him any more.

This West Ham seems pleased that his team escaped with only a 2 nil beating.

See ya'll on Sunday for the vicious throw down with Burnley. 

Beckham for Arsenal

Just some linky goodness. See below.

http://preview.tinyurl.com/2kldbx