What's the difference between a manipulative, heart-string tugging rom-com and an edgy, moving character study? Sometimes it can just be whether Matthew McConaughey is in it or not. If he is, 9pm Sunday night on Channel 4 is a likely destination. If he isn't, it might start at ten instead. If whatsherface, Anne something is in it, it'll be on about 5 on a bank holiday and will involve a rug on a freshly polished wooden floor. There are other facets to consider: from twisty turvey narratives or grim-faced ones, shot construction, film stock, and off the top of my head, is Marisa Tomei grinding her crotch against a metal bar with increasing frequency as the story continues? If she is, then you are watching an edgy, moving character study.
However The Wrestler, despite Darren Aronofsky's direction and Mickey Rourke's amazing performance, actually treads a reasonably straightforward line from unredeemed to... well, I cannot say without spoiling the movie. There's some surprisingly cheesy bits in it, though. It's beautifully shot, and as mentioned above - but worth mentioning again - Rourke is very very good. There are also some rather graphic wrestling scenes - this isn't WWF but chair-smashing, barbed-wire baiting and staple-gun-branding wrestling - that made Sal feel quite sick. Be forewarned - if you have a blood-and-flesh fetish this makes for a smashing watch.
The other difference between the two types of movie mentioned above can also be how it ends - do you go for a kiss, walking away up a lonely street as somebody - probably Morgan Freeman - intones with hard-won wisdom how they never did see that girl/guy/dog again, or something downbeat - like a head in a box. Some films have a degree of ambiguity about the ending that can range from intriguing (The Thing, Blade Runner) to irritatingly whimsical (Lost in Translation). Some can even manage a tragic but happy ending (Brazil) - the cinematic shorthand for Matthew McConaughey going down in a hail of bullets in the final reel.
Despite some reservations then, which I've done my best to disguise with lazy sarcasm, I'd recommend The Wrestler. As has been mentioned in numerous reviews, the film is of interest if only for the way it mirrors Rourkes own career in movies - there's something marginally car-crash about Rourke's surgery-decimated face combined with his undoubted acting talent. You feel as though you are watching two movies, and you really want them both to end happily.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Thursday, July 02, 2009
What you could have won
Nobody got the film quotes so here are the answers.
Bad dates - Raiders of the Lost Ark
I love to travel by train - Midnight Run
Second prize is a set of steak knives - Glengarry Glen Ross
I'm packing you your angry eyes, just in case - Toy Story 2
Si je dois être un cadavre, je peux aussi bien être un cadavre présentable - Wages of Fear
You call lifting ten thousand stones fun? - The Music of Chance
Smile, you son of a bitch - Jaws
Chance of departure today... 100 percent - Groundhog Day
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Owen
I can remember way back in 98 turning to a friend and saying "this is good" when England brought on Owen against Romania. The friend in question knew nothing about football, so when shortly afterwards Owen scored, I had the rare experience of feeling like some kind of footballing sage, offering insight to the grateful plebs. I've felt that once since, when I said "he's shit" about some Everton player or other, who promptly fell over. Possibly Vinny Samways.
Anyway Owen is now apparently keen on a move to Everton (over and above Aston Villa! Is this because serial gobshite David O'Leary has said Martin O'Neill has done nothing there? Probably not) and to say I'm in two minds is putting it mildly. I'm not in three or more minds - what I mean is my mind that says Michael Owen! How exciting! is somewhat dwarfed by my mind that says Michael Owen! and doesn't go any further because it is immediately arrested by the vision of slightly damp cardboard.
We've done Ginola, Gascoigne and Hughes. Owen is not quite as crocked, unbothered or shit as they were, but it does feel like a step away from youthful promise and adaptable, hungry, good-engined players. Even his best mate didn't want to play him at Newcastle, so for every pundit saying "when he's fit he gets you goals" there's ten thousand fans thinking "when he isn't he gets you destitute" - or possibly just "no he doesn't". Owen seems to lack pace, lack passion, lack humour. Which is evidenced most clearly by this clip, where he is just a twat.
I hope he proves me wrong - he's a boyhood Evertonian after all. But if he can't do that, I'd rather he doesn't sign in the first place.
Anyway Owen is now apparently keen on a move to Everton (over and above Aston Villa! Is this because serial gobshite David O'Leary has said Martin O'Neill has done nothing there? Probably not) and to say I'm in two minds is putting it mildly. I'm not in three or more minds - what I mean is my mind that says Michael Owen! How exciting! is somewhat dwarfed by my mind that says Michael Owen! and doesn't go any further because it is immediately arrested by the vision of slightly damp cardboard.
We've done Ginola, Gascoigne and Hughes. Owen is not quite as crocked, unbothered or shit as they were, but it does feel like a step away from youthful promise and adaptable, hungry, good-engined players. Even his best mate didn't want to play him at Newcastle, so for every pundit saying "when he's fit he gets you goals" there's ten thousand fans thinking "when he isn't he gets you destitute" - or possibly just "no he doesn't". Owen seems to lack pace, lack passion, lack humour. Which is evidenced most clearly by this clip, where he is just a twat.
I hope he proves me wrong - he's a boyhood Evertonian after all. But if he can't do that, I'd rather he doesn't sign in the first place.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Review: Generation Kill
Not actually finished watching this yet, but that will at least prevent me from a litany of spoilers. Generation Kill is brought to you by the people who made The Wire, the best telly ever no matter what the boringly inevitable backlash says. Having done the political machinations and their tragic reverberations on the people of Baltimore, ex Baltimore Sun reporter David Simon and ex-homicide cop Ed Burns turned their attention to Iraq, via Evan Wright's book.
Wright, a Rolling Stone reporter, travelled with the 1st Reconnaissance Battalion as they entered Iraq and documented everything he saw - from the camaraderie and humour of the grunts to the (cliché alert) 'horrors of war'.
Like the Wire, it's no polemic, and like the Wire, it doesn't need to be because the telling is all that's needed. Even the most fervent pro-war supporter wouldn't argue that hearts and minds have been won, and Generation Kill serves as a little inkling as to why. Just as Baltimore cops were frustrated by the numbers game being played above their heads, 1st Reconnaissance Battalion marines are frustrated by the power plays of their superiors, as the supposed 'liberation' makes it's way north through Iraq, becoming increasingly disillusioned but, as marines, obligated, and to a large degree dedicated, to following the orders of their gung-ho commander 'Godfather' - so called because throat cancer has affected his voice. These are soldiers so their general indifference to deaths (with one or two exceptions) is not something that your average Evertonian will emphasise with, and neither is the casual racism, but the series overcomes that hurdle with some aplomb, concentrating on the politics of the company and the sometimes dry, sometimes gross humour that helps sustain them. And of course, the blackest of humour that the situation itself supplies - the idiotic 'Captain America' who covers his fear by exploding into extreme, inappropriate action. The translator who has been told to translate everything as "they are very happy to be liberated" despite the angry gesticulations and the bloody corpses. The soldier who is bawled out for losing his helmet while his commander misplaces a truck.
"You want be me to speak freely?"
"Yes doc. I want you to know, if my platoon want to speak, I want to listen."
"Well... it's just that you're incompetent, sir."
When Jarhead came out, a cold-eyed review said it might be honest, but it's just one more tale from the American perspective about American boys at war. Generation Kill is yet another, but like it's predecessor, it's less about the action, or even the boredom, but the cranking of the machine fucking over everybody caught up in it.
Wright, a Rolling Stone reporter, travelled with the 1st Reconnaissance Battalion as they entered Iraq and documented everything he saw - from the camaraderie and humour of the grunts to the (cliché alert) 'horrors of war'.
Like the Wire, it's no polemic, and like the Wire, it doesn't need to be because the telling is all that's needed. Even the most fervent pro-war supporter wouldn't argue that hearts and minds have been won, and Generation Kill serves as a little inkling as to why. Just as Baltimore cops were frustrated by the numbers game being played above their heads, 1st Reconnaissance Battalion marines are frustrated by the power plays of their superiors, as the supposed 'liberation' makes it's way north through Iraq, becoming increasingly disillusioned but, as marines, obligated, and to a large degree dedicated, to following the orders of their gung-ho commander 'Godfather' - so called because throat cancer has affected his voice. These are soldiers so their general indifference to deaths (with one or two exceptions) is not something that your average Evertonian will emphasise with, and neither is the casual racism, but the series overcomes that hurdle with some aplomb, concentrating on the politics of the company and the sometimes dry, sometimes gross humour that helps sustain them. And of course, the blackest of humour that the situation itself supplies - the idiotic 'Captain America' who covers his fear by exploding into extreme, inappropriate action. The translator who has been told to translate everything as "they are very happy to be liberated" despite the angry gesticulations and the bloody corpses. The soldier who is bawled out for losing his helmet while his commander misplaces a truck.
"You want be me to speak freely?"
"Yes doc. I want you to know, if my platoon want to speak, I want to listen."
"Well... it's just that you're incompetent, sir."
When Jarhead came out, a cold-eyed review said it might be honest, but it's just one more tale from the American perspective about American boys at war. Generation Kill is yet another, but like it's predecessor, it's less about the action, or even the boredom, but the cranking of the machine fucking over everybody caught up in it.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Games
I've been meaning to post about games for some time. Not football games - though this is ostensibly a football blog long-time readers will know I can wax on about books, films, etc, in fact the whole alphabetical gamut from B to G. Not computer games, though they have their place. Not role-play games, although I have been to that dimension. And not the mind games I play with my wife when I'm trying to project a veneer of sophistication (these often backfire).
Board games. It's impossible to introduce the idea of board games to the uninitiated casually because people usually think of Monopoly (too linear, too long, too chance-based) or Risk (much too long, mostly-chance-based) which are both about direct conflict and basically trying to screw each other up, or Cluedo, which is about walking very very slowly around a mansion and making ballsy accusations about the upper class. Sounds like fun? Of course not. But, if you're willing to embrace your inner nerd, or at least acknowledge their existence, there's a whole world of accessible, fun, and - to various degrees - mentally challenging games out there, which unfortunately come under the labels of strategy gaming or resource management gaming. While these labels are undeniably bad, they are at least honest and don't try to pretend they're something they're not. Buying them may involve interaction with full-on nerdulikes, but don't be put off. There is pleasure to be had, pleasure you are right now denying yourself. But why are games good? I will answer that rhetorical question right now:
1. Social interaction. Okay, you might be talking about your make-believe influence in 17th century Venice, but at least you're all sitting around a table talking to each other, inside of slouched in a bean bag watching America's Got Talent eating jaffa-cakes. You're not doing anything to tell the grandchildren about, but you've taken an incremental step in the right direction.
2. Fun. Usually the rules are written in an inaccessible way, possibly translated from the German (where these games are hugely popular) but once you get past that hurdle - usually by gleaning the gist and then playing first time with rules to hand - a game like Carcassone is miles more fun, and heaps less aggressive, than the boardgames of bygone days where ending up in jail was often an attractive proposition. Sometimes you even help each other, instead of blowing everyone to shit.
3. Brains. You'll actually use them. Most of these games have minimised or eliminated the element of chance, so a strategy game is actually a strategy game, and engaging with it does have some value in terms of utilising your gigantic brain, and maybe even feeling pretty good about it.
So without further ado, here are my top ten gaming recommendations to buy for that rainy day, or liquid night:
The Settlers of Catan
Atypical of the list in that it involves a good deal of chance, but there's still some mind-flexing. A simple introductory game, easy to learn and fun to play. You are all settlers on the Island of Catan (the island's layout is different for every game, so it's not repetitive) and striving to become the most developed. There's no fighting, although you can strategically outmanoeuvre one another. 3-4 Players. Easy to learn? Yes. Time: 60-90 minutes.
Carcassone
A tile-laying game, where you're trying to be the most powerful ruler in Carcassone. Every turn you lay a random tile, and you might - or might not - place a follower on it depending on what options the tile gives you. There are three easy ways to score points (occupying cities, roads, or chapels) and a fourth, farming, which only scores at the end of the game but can get you mega-points if you get it right. Again there's no combat, but there are sneaky subtleties you'll pick up once you've played a couple of times. There are also several fun 'extension' kits, that mostly don't lengthen the game any more than a few minutes. 2-5 players. Easy to learn? Yes, though "trickier to master" as they used to say on almost any board game in the 70's. Time: 45-60 minutes.
El Grande
Now we are moving into a slightly more complex world. Don't be scared. Haven't you dreamed of trying to exert the most influence in 17th century Spain before? Of course you have. With this fabulous game you can test your wits and cunning, and when you win you will have done so without the aid of fortune. El Grande takes place over a 9 rounds (scoring rounds on the third, sixth and ninth). In each round players bid for the use of one of five 'action' cards, which they use to get their caballeros (ok, their 'men') onto the board in the various regions of Spain. In the scoring rounds the 'regions' are scored for first, second and third place. Them's the basics, but there's a huge amount of intricacy in both the way the action cards work and the possibilities they offer, which range from moving swathes of caballeros to sneaky and despicable region-switching of your opponents'. 2-5 players. Easy to learn? It takes a game to get the hang of the mechanics. Time: 70-90 mins.
Dominion
This is a deceptively easy card game that ludicrously comes in a massive box. It's very quick to pick up, and offers lots of variants on a simple theme. Basically come the end of the game, you want to be the player with the most land, but the catch is that during play, the more land you have, the more it gets in your way and stops you from, yes, gaining more land. 2-6 players (I think) Easy to learn: Yes. Time: 30mins.
Garibaldi
This is a nice one that's only marginally more complicated than battleships. One player is Garibaldi, trying to avoid the Austrian Patrols as he sneaks through northern Italy in 1849. The other players are the patrols trying to locate him. Kind of silly, and to be honest more for fun Garibaldi than the patrols, but a worthwhile diversion for 2-5 players. Easy to learn: Yep. Time: 10-60mins, depending on how far Garibaldi gets!
Pandemic
This is a topically distasteful game considering Swine Flu, but at least as players your aim is (working in unison) preventing the outbreak of a worldwide pandemic and finding cures. The canny game mechanics mean it's harder than it first appears, though you can tweak the game according to how 'expert' you are. 2-5 players. Easy to learn: easier than El Grande. Time: 30-60 mins.
Race for the Galaxy
Nerdsville alert! Despite a very more-ish game dynamic (once you have a handle on it) this game is SCI-FI themed, so you'll have to have the sturdy constitution required to say "I can settle this planet at minus two cost because I have terraforming robots" which, I hold my hands up, is linguistically only half a step removed from "My cloak of invisibility will protect me. I'll roll a d10 and go for the necromancer with my mace". The basics are easy to pick up, what's hard about this game are the intricacies of individual cards and their powers, as you all try and develop your galaxies - and prevent anyone important from Earth discovering you. 2-6 players. Easy to learn: Bit tricky. Time: 20-40mins.
Web of Power
Very simple game but a nice introductory one for adults and kids. The web in question is the one you're trying to spread across Europe, establishing trade routes and winning points in doing so, via a board and deck of cards. 2-5 players, easy to learn, 30-40mins.
Agricola
Currently number one on Boardgamegeek.com! Agricola, if you're patient with it, is probably the most rewarding of all games if you enjoy the strategical challenge as much as the diversion. That said, it's also suitable for kids, as each player tries to develop their farm into the most productive one over a set series of rounds. You might plan to grow corn only to find someone's beaten you to it on that particular round, so you have to make a plan B and buy a sheep instead. Great eh? But mere agricultural terminology doesn't do this game justice. Good fun. 2-5 players. Easy to learn? You need some patience to wade through the rules, but there is a simpler 'family' version. 90-120mins.
RoboRally
No longer produced, this is a bit of a wild card, as Robo Rally - where you try and guide your robot across a warehouse full of death-traps - is designed to try and enforce mistakes from you, which some people can get irked by. But if you embrace the silliness (and play with a few people, as 2 seems a bit pointless) it's worthwhile pursuing, for kids and adults. 2-6 players. Easy to learn: Basics, very. 30-??mins depending on how big you make your warehouse and how bad you are at steering your robot.
So there you have it. Not one of these games is about killing your opponent or knocking them out of the game, so if you have horrific memories of board games as a child, cast aside your preconceptions and go to your nearest independent game shop. Ignore the two people arguing over some weird gaming or comic-strip chronology minutuae, get one of these games and get out of there! As Jarvis Cocker said, nerds are coming out of the woodwork. Join us before you get outmeepled.
Board games. It's impossible to introduce the idea of board games to the uninitiated casually because people usually think of Monopoly (too linear, too long, too chance-based) or Risk (much too long, mostly-chance-based) which are both about direct conflict and basically trying to screw each other up, or Cluedo, which is about walking very very slowly around a mansion and making ballsy accusations about the upper class. Sounds like fun? Of course not. But, if you're willing to embrace your inner nerd, or at least acknowledge their existence, there's a whole world of accessible, fun, and - to various degrees - mentally challenging games out there, which unfortunately come under the labels of strategy gaming or resource management gaming. While these labels are undeniably bad, they are at least honest and don't try to pretend they're something they're not. Buying them may involve interaction with full-on nerdulikes, but don't be put off. There is pleasure to be had, pleasure you are right now denying yourself. But why are games good? I will answer that rhetorical question right now:
1. Social interaction. Okay, you might be talking about your make-believe influence in 17th century Venice, but at least you're all sitting around a table talking to each other, inside of slouched in a bean bag watching America's Got Talent eating jaffa-cakes. You're not doing anything to tell the grandchildren about, but you've taken an incremental step in the right direction.
2. Fun. Usually the rules are written in an inaccessible way, possibly translated from the German (where these games are hugely popular) but once you get past that hurdle - usually by gleaning the gist and then playing first time with rules to hand - a game like Carcassone is miles more fun, and heaps less aggressive, than the boardgames of bygone days where ending up in jail was often an attractive proposition. Sometimes you even help each other, instead of blowing everyone to shit.
3. Brains. You'll actually use them. Most of these games have minimised or eliminated the element of chance, so a strategy game is actually a strategy game, and engaging with it does have some value in terms of utilising your gigantic brain, and maybe even feeling pretty good about it.
So without further ado, here are my top ten gaming recommendations to buy for that rainy day, or liquid night:
The Settlers of Catan
Atypical of the list in that it involves a good deal of chance, but there's still some mind-flexing. A simple introductory game, easy to learn and fun to play. You are all settlers on the Island of Catan (the island's layout is different for every game, so it's not repetitive) and striving to become the most developed. There's no fighting, although you can strategically outmanoeuvre one another. 3-4 Players. Easy to learn? Yes. Time: 60-90 minutes.
Carcassone
A tile-laying game, where you're trying to be the most powerful ruler in Carcassone. Every turn you lay a random tile, and you might - or might not - place a follower on it depending on what options the tile gives you. There are three easy ways to score points (occupying cities, roads, or chapels) and a fourth, farming, which only scores at the end of the game but can get you mega-points if you get it right. Again there's no combat, but there are sneaky subtleties you'll pick up once you've played a couple of times. There are also several fun 'extension' kits, that mostly don't lengthen the game any more than a few minutes. 2-5 players. Easy to learn? Yes, though "trickier to master" as they used to say on almost any board game in the 70's. Time: 45-60 minutes.
El Grande
Now we are moving into a slightly more complex world. Don't be scared. Haven't you dreamed of trying to exert the most influence in 17th century Spain before? Of course you have. With this fabulous game you can test your wits and cunning, and when you win you will have done so without the aid of fortune. El Grande takes place over a 9 rounds (scoring rounds on the third, sixth and ninth). In each round players bid for the use of one of five 'action' cards, which they use to get their caballeros (ok, their 'men') onto the board in the various regions of Spain. In the scoring rounds the 'regions' are scored for first, second and third place. Them's the basics, but there's a huge amount of intricacy in both the way the action cards work and the possibilities they offer, which range from moving swathes of caballeros to sneaky and despicable region-switching of your opponents'. 2-5 players. Easy to learn? It takes a game to get the hang of the mechanics. Time: 70-90 mins.
Dominion
This is a deceptively easy card game that ludicrously comes in a massive box. It's very quick to pick up, and offers lots of variants on a simple theme. Basically come the end of the game, you want to be the player with the most land, but the catch is that during play, the more land you have, the more it gets in your way and stops you from, yes, gaining more land. 2-6 players (I think) Easy to learn: Yes. Time: 30mins.
Garibaldi
This is a nice one that's only marginally more complicated than battleships. One player is Garibaldi, trying to avoid the Austrian Patrols as he sneaks through northern Italy in 1849. The other players are the patrols trying to locate him. Kind of silly, and to be honest more for fun Garibaldi than the patrols, but a worthwhile diversion for 2-5 players. Easy to learn: Yep. Time: 10-60mins, depending on how far Garibaldi gets!
Pandemic
This is a topically distasteful game considering Swine Flu, but at least as players your aim is (working in unison) preventing the outbreak of a worldwide pandemic and finding cures. The canny game mechanics mean it's harder than it first appears, though you can tweak the game according to how 'expert' you are. 2-5 players. Easy to learn: easier than El Grande. Time: 30-60 mins.
Race for the Galaxy
Nerdsville alert! Despite a very more-ish game dynamic (once you have a handle on it) this game is SCI-FI themed, so you'll have to have the sturdy constitution required to say "I can settle this planet at minus two cost because I have terraforming robots" which, I hold my hands up, is linguistically only half a step removed from "My cloak of invisibility will protect me. I'll roll a d10 and go for the necromancer with my mace". The basics are easy to pick up, what's hard about this game are the intricacies of individual cards and their powers, as you all try and develop your galaxies - and prevent anyone important from Earth discovering you. 2-6 players. Easy to learn: Bit tricky. Time: 20-40mins.
Web of Power
Very simple game but a nice introductory one for adults and kids. The web in question is the one you're trying to spread across Europe, establishing trade routes and winning points in doing so, via a board and deck of cards. 2-5 players, easy to learn, 30-40mins.
Agricola
Currently number one on Boardgamegeek.com! Agricola, if you're patient with it, is probably the most rewarding of all games if you enjoy the strategical challenge as much as the diversion. That said, it's also suitable for kids, as each player tries to develop their farm into the most productive one over a set series of rounds. You might plan to grow corn only to find someone's beaten you to it on that particular round, so you have to make a plan B and buy a sheep instead. Great eh? But mere agricultural terminology doesn't do this game justice. Good fun. 2-5 players. Easy to learn? You need some patience to wade through the rules, but there is a simpler 'family' version. 90-120mins.
RoboRally
No longer produced, this is a bit of a wild card, as Robo Rally - where you try and guide your robot across a warehouse full of death-traps - is designed to try and enforce mistakes from you, which some people can get irked by. But if you embrace the silliness (and play with a few people, as 2 seems a bit pointless) it's worthwhile pursuing, for kids and adults. 2-6 players. Easy to learn: Basics, very. 30-??mins depending on how big you make your warehouse and how bad you are at steering your robot.
So there you have it. Not one of these games is about killing your opponent or knocking them out of the game, so if you have horrific memories of board games as a child, cast aside your preconceptions and go to your nearest independent game shop. Ignore the two people arguing over some weird gaming or comic-strip chronology minutuae, get one of these games and get out of there! As Jarvis Cocker said, nerds are coming out of the woodwork. Join us before you get outmeepled.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Dry Season
It's one of those summers where there is no major international tournament, and putting six past Andorra doesn't really get the blood pumping. If you're a football fan you endeavour to get excited by the Ashes, and Wimbledon, but though they can be thrilling at times they don't quite sate you the way a result for your team does, or give you the opportunity to stare at your position in the table - second! - after, say, two games, and dream of a series of results that keep you there for the coming months. That's what being a football fan is all about - stat-saturated knowledge that doesn't actually expand your mind in any form whatsoever. At least most fans can get excited about transfers, but - as has been documented all over the place - Evertonians can't really do that. Transfer talk on Toffeeweb amounts to an ever-lengthening list of players we know we can't afford. With every Man City-related speculation in the media prices seem to rise. Is Joleon Lescott worth £15m? That's a tough one to call.
What every Evertonian is praying - even if they don't admit it to themselves - is that A. We can attract some of the best young talent to the club - which isn't too far-fetched - and B. We've got some secret, trump financial card we can play at some point where we make a headline signing that doesn't involve Michael Owen. Perhaps it's Moutinho, perhaps it's someone else - names elude me. But someone. B isn't very likely, because though we know Bill and David play their cards close to their chest, it's usually because their cards are a load of old shite and they're trying to pretend they've got jack-ten suited when really they've got 8-4 off-suit.
A little bit of poker terminology there, just to keep you on your toes.
I'd be happy if we signed Fabian Delph, Joe Ledley, and Michael Johnson from Man City (assuming he's not the nobhead he is rumoured to be). With all the cherry-picking of the bigger clubs, the flush of optimism and confidence is too easily ebbed away, as we are linked with the likes of Owen and Alan fecking Smith. However, Moyes has been increasingly shrewd in his acquisitions, buying young being pretty much a blanket approach, and we have to put our trust in him that he can find a Jagielka or a Cahill again - only one who can play right wing.
What every Evertonian is praying - even if they don't admit it to themselves - is that A. We can attract some of the best young talent to the club - which isn't too far-fetched - and B. We've got some secret, trump financial card we can play at some point where we make a headline signing that doesn't involve Michael Owen. Perhaps it's Moutinho, perhaps it's someone else - names elude me. But someone. B isn't very likely, because though we know Bill and David play their cards close to their chest, it's usually because their cards are a load of old shite and they're trying to pretend they've got jack-ten suited when really they've got 8-4 off-suit.
A little bit of poker terminology there, just to keep you on your toes.
I'd be happy if we signed Fabian Delph, Joe Ledley, and Michael Johnson from Man City (assuming he's not the nobhead he is rumoured to be). With all the cherry-picking of the bigger clubs, the flush of optimism and confidence is too easily ebbed away, as we are linked with the likes of Owen and Alan fecking Smith. However, Moyes has been increasingly shrewd in his acquisitions, buying young being pretty much a blanket approach, and we have to put our trust in him that he can find a Jagielka or a Cahill again - only one who can play right wing.
Monday, June 08, 2009
Review: Paradise Lost (1 and 2)
Contains MAJOR SPOILERS, though the value of the films is not 'whodunnit' but 'WTF' shock at the judicial process of 20th century 'civilised' society.
1993, Memphis Tennessee. Three 8 year old boys are horrifically murdered in Robin Hood Hills, West Memphis - one of the boys has had his penis partially removed or skinned. They are naked, hog-tied and covered in cuts. When three older children (17, 18 and 19) are charged with the murders by the West Memphis police HBO strike a deal to document the unfolding drama, which is the award-winning documentary Paradise Lost.
The bare bones of it are this: there is no physical evidence to tie the boys to the crime whatsoever, no link between the 'killers' and the murdered children. The police have exerted a 'confession' that implicates all three youths from the 17 year-old, Jesse Misskelley, but the boy has learning difficulties, an IQ of 72, and his confession is full of errors (for instance, saying the children were raped) to the point where the police are actually guiding him to say the right thing. He immediately retracted the confession but as far as the police, and most of West Memphis is concerned, they have their killers. The reason for this is not so much Misskelley's hollow confession but the way the boys look - they dress in black, listen to Metallica and have an interest in the occult. What follows is a modern day witch-hunt, with a prosecution happy to focus on the boy's appearance, the jury blinded by 'satanic panic' into finding all three guilty, and a judge who sentences two of them to life and the third, Damien Echols, to death by lethal injection. Intercut between the court case and interviews with the boys we see the grieving parents of the victims, who understandably need someone to blame.
The film caused such a stir that a support group 'Free the West Memphis Three' was born, and with campaigners trying to free the boys, HBO returned to Memphis as the appeals went to court for Paradise Lost 2. What follows is as shocking and heartbreaking (though at least without any further horrifying murders) as the first film, and you shake your head in disbelief at the smug complacency of the police, the judge, and the media, as the boys nightmare continues. Not only that, but something hinted at in the first film about the potential identity of the real killer is followed up with dramatic results. It's no surprise to find that at the film's closure, the boys are still in prison and Damien Echols is still on death row. That was 1996 - checking Wikipedia afterwards I felt sick to see that come 2009 nothing has changed, and recent updates to the Free the West Memphis Three blog show the same blasé attitude from the likes of Fox News, who refer to Misskelley as a 'convicted killer'.
HBO are right now in the middle of making a part 3 of Paradise Lost, and one can only hope they have a better ending. If you can bear it (be prepared for some disturbing images), this is essential viewing. Better still, donate to the ongoing legal battle at the website.
1993, Memphis Tennessee. Three 8 year old boys are horrifically murdered in Robin Hood Hills, West Memphis - one of the boys has had his penis partially removed or skinned. They are naked, hog-tied and covered in cuts. When three older children (17, 18 and 19) are charged with the murders by the West Memphis police HBO strike a deal to document the unfolding drama, which is the award-winning documentary Paradise Lost.
The bare bones of it are this: there is no physical evidence to tie the boys to the crime whatsoever, no link between the 'killers' and the murdered children. The police have exerted a 'confession' that implicates all three youths from the 17 year-old, Jesse Misskelley, but the boy has learning difficulties, an IQ of 72, and his confession is full of errors (for instance, saying the children were raped) to the point where the police are actually guiding him to say the right thing. He immediately retracted the confession but as far as the police, and most of West Memphis is concerned, they have their killers. The reason for this is not so much Misskelley's hollow confession but the way the boys look - they dress in black, listen to Metallica and have an interest in the occult. What follows is a modern day witch-hunt, with a prosecution happy to focus on the boy's appearance, the jury blinded by 'satanic panic' into finding all three guilty, and a judge who sentences two of them to life and the third, Damien Echols, to death by lethal injection. Intercut between the court case and interviews with the boys we see the grieving parents of the victims, who understandably need someone to blame.
The film caused such a stir that a support group 'Free the West Memphis Three' was born, and with campaigners trying to free the boys, HBO returned to Memphis as the appeals went to court for Paradise Lost 2. What follows is as shocking and heartbreaking (though at least without any further horrifying murders) as the first film, and you shake your head in disbelief at the smug complacency of the police, the judge, and the media, as the boys nightmare continues. Not only that, but something hinted at in the first film about the potential identity of the real killer is followed up with dramatic results. It's no surprise to find that at the film's closure, the boys are still in prison and Damien Echols is still on death row. That was 1996 - checking Wikipedia afterwards I felt sick to see that come 2009 nothing has changed, and recent updates to the Free the West Memphis Three blog show the same blasé attitude from the likes of Fox News, who refer to Misskelley as a 'convicted killer'.
HBO are right now in the middle of making a part 3 of Paradise Lost, and one can only hope they have a better ending. If you can bear it (be prepared for some disturbing images), this is essential viewing. Better still, donate to the ongoing legal battle at the website.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
The Mansierre!
This dreadful effort is apparently what passes for design these days. Apart from the fact it looks like a bra at the top, the white V is cut off so it looks like a bodge job at the factory... I know it references a great eighties team, but my feelings are accurately summed up by the expression on Saha's face.
Monday, June 01, 2009
Chance of departure today... 100 percent.
I can't really write what I'd like to write today, which would be an expletive laden exercise in self-pity, so instead I'll just doff my cap politely to Guus, Frank and the rest of them, and say they deserved it, because they did. It's pointless 'blaming' the financial constraints - we had a shot, and we missed.
I do think we can play better than that, and to be fair the second half (opening 5 mins excepted) was an improvement on the first as far as we were concerned, but on the day Chelsea had too much for us, to the extent that the last 15 minutes felt heartbreakingly futile rather than weighty with we-could-still-do-it potential. It doesn't change the fact we're a team on the up, and as Sir Alex Ferguson likes to say "you learn more about your team when they lose". Charlie Brown would add "That makes me the smartest person in the world!" but 'dogged little Everton' are no longer seen in that light - which makes defeat harder to take, but improves one's disposition overall.
What is nice is that the season's end, even on the back of this defeat, doesn't prompt our better players being evasive about their futures as it would have in years gone by. Cahill says he is so proud to wear the shirt, Howard signs a new contract. Moyes says he has no interest in the Celtic job. Straw-clutching perhaps, but it really does feel like, if Kenwright can find some money for two or three signings, we have a shot at the top four next year. Moyes is surely as loyal as he claims, but one can't see him settling for finishing 5th every year and having a shout of the LMA award as the zenith of his career (even if claims for him to take over at Man Utd seem premature) so we simply MUST capitalise on this momentum.
If we can.
I do think we can play better than that, and to be fair the second half (opening 5 mins excepted) was an improvement on the first as far as we were concerned, but on the day Chelsea had too much for us, to the extent that the last 15 minutes felt heartbreakingly futile rather than weighty with we-could-still-do-it potential. It doesn't change the fact we're a team on the up, and as Sir Alex Ferguson likes to say "you learn more about your team when they lose". Charlie Brown would add "That makes me the smartest person in the world!" but 'dogged little Everton' are no longer seen in that light - which makes defeat harder to take, but improves one's disposition overall.
What is nice is that the season's end, even on the back of this defeat, doesn't prompt our better players being evasive about their futures as it would have in years gone by. Cahill says he is so proud to wear the shirt, Howard signs a new contract. Moyes says he has no interest in the Celtic job. Straw-clutching perhaps, but it really does feel like, if Kenwright can find some money for two or three signings, we have a shot at the top four next year. Moyes is surely as loyal as he claims, but one can't see him settling for finishing 5th every year and having a shout of the LMA award as the zenith of his career (even if claims for him to take over at Man Utd seem premature) so we simply MUST capitalise on this momentum.
If we can.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Smile, you son of a bitch
7.05 Too tired to get up, but too wired to sleep, I lie with a pillow over my head dreaming of ridiculous goals, ludicrous scorelines, and a summer of high-profile signings.
9.00 I’m finally up, dressed and hygenic. Get the paper and read it over breakfast. A good omen occurs when I accidentally spray chocolate soya milk all over a picture of Guus Hiddink’s face.
9.40 Setanta have started their coverage already, so it’s nice to turn the telly on and begin watching what amounts to, at this stage, a padathon, including some very self-conscious Chelsea fans predicting defeat for Everton on Wembley Way. Excited as I am, I’m not sure I can take six hours of this, so I plan to head out with the paper for a coffee. In a minute.
10.10 Kevin Ratcliffe thinks Fellaini cost £16, £18 million, something like that. Actually the oft-quoted £15m is supposedly an over-estimate.
10.13 Great to hear Graeme Stuart referring to Everton as ‘we’. Eddie Newton sounds a bit drowsy.
10.14 Alex Gordon-Martin is at the Everton team hotel and is talking to the Everton fans. Is it wrong of me to say they seem a lot more cheery and funny than the “fwee-one to Chelsea” Chelsea fans from earlier? Cos they are.
10.15 My mistake. The interviewer back on Wembley way proceeds to now make a bunch of Everton fans sound as dozy as the Chelsea fans did. He – unless I’m missing some post-modern humour – thinks the little kids are wearing ‘Cahill’ wigs. Where do they get these pricks?
10.25 Saint and Greavsie starts. Jimmy Greaves immediately launches – apropos nothing – into a story about how he always refused to go on the bench. Saint’s constant laughter – A HA HA HA! is a bit grating. I go out for that coffee.
10.45 At the café the dreamy ambience of the day is confirmed when a pretty woman offers to give me a massage in the community centre next door. I ignore the fact she is proposing the same thing to all the clientele and consider the offer. It’s the wrong day though.
11.10 Back home and it’s now James Richardson, Stan Collymore and a woman I don’t recognise called Rebecca. Setanta are replaying low-level games from early on in the competition, which is quite interesting but weirdly sponsored by Mini. Then Ray Wilkins makes a brief appearance looking like he’s regularly fired from a cannon into a sun lamp – though to be fair he is pretty amiable and, bearing in mind he’s saying absolutely sod all, not too dull either. Considering his voice and that.
11.20 Back to the mini-adventure. Barrow are playing Middlesbrough – the Barrow fans have a habit of taking their shoes off and waving them around in support. Good for them. To be honest I’m finding some of Setanta’s pre-recorded stuff a teeny bit smarmy, but it’s still light years ahead of the perennially irksome ITV. Whoever decided to give freeview box owners the FA Cup Final free deserves a pat on the back.
11.33 The crap presenter at Wembley Way is now hopelessly surrounded by noisy Evertonians and just has no idea. Poor sod.
11.40 If I’m not going to suffer any more long shots of bored looking players trying to kill time before kick-off I need to take a break from football. My multi-tasking pedigree is evident as I mull over Scrabble moves online, play poker on the PS2 and browse the hilarious FAIL blog.
11.55 I feel like a heinious bastard, but today I refuse admittance to little Esme from next door who often comes around and just hangs out in our house. Even though right now I’m trying to make a word from six vowels, my main focus is the football and nothing must distract from that. Her dad would understand.
11.56 I come second in the world poker championships, but the euphoria is muted for obvious reasons.
12.10 Back to Setanta, where they’re interviewing Howard Webb. Seems a nice chap. Graham Poll follows on from this with a bit of insight on referees. Stan Collymore says the main thing he wants from a referee is “a big smile on his face”.
12.15 I’m starting to wonder – as I knew I would – if being on my own is a mistake. A mate rings up to wish me luck (okay, to invite me to his birthday bash) and I find myself babbling incoherently down the phone. So maybe it’s a good thing.
12.25 Dave Watson makes an appearance. Hurray! The useless presenter says “Are you worried that David Moyes has never beaten Everton?” Looking for portents everywhere, I find a bit of rocket leaf hanging off my bare foot. And I hoovered yesterday.
12.28 An out-on-the-town piece about Evertonians. Despite growing up in west London the Scouse accent, to me, has an affinity that Chelsea’s Lahdan accents don’t. Maybe because I bloody hated growing up in west London. “I’m the only bluenose in the family, yeah” sadly states a bearded middle-aged man. “The rest of them are all thick.”
12.30 The sun goes in and Stanley’s light-sensitive percussive cat lets out a little drum roll, which coincides nicely with the Everton players getting on their coach. The normally entertaining Stan Collymore is trotting out clichés right now, maybe he’s a big hungover.
12.35 If this is going to be a patchy day I’ll have to put that cat in a box.
12.42 The 95 cup-winning side have been got back together for a chinwag. This is lovely. “It’s easy for me to say it’s a dream” says Unsworth, “But as a child growing up in Chorley that was all I ever wanted to do.”
12.45 Everton are STILL getting on the coach. Here’s Moysey, prompting Collymore to use the phrase ‘wily Scot’. Rebecca thingy and James Richardson are really impressing me as presenters though. I actually like Alan Hansen on MotD but it’s quite refreshing not to hear him grumbling into his invisible soup.
12.50 Wembley Way. Everton fans are singing over cheesehead’s Chelsea fan interviews. I’m thinking about lunch.
12.54 Collymore is asked who he wants to win and states, unequivocally, Everton. “Be nice to break the monopoly of the top four” he adds.
13.05 There are a couple of fans in the stadium waving a flag. All on their own.
13.11 Terry Venables, sporting a goatee, says Chelsea should win but wouldn’t be surprised at ‘an upset’. Part of me wants to hear some ponce say Chelsea will destroy Everton. There’s too many people hedging their bets. But then again, why wouldn’t they? We are Everton – Chelsea will have a game today.
13.12 Setanta have got a helicopter with a blonde in it.
13.13 Cheeseface is getting the hang of it on Wembley Way now, he actually came across as half-human on the latest link.
13.14 Sam Wallace from The Independent is predicting a Chelsea win. He says they’ll match Everton for effort, and eventually the quality will show. Fair enough call. Graeme Sharp is hopeful of an Everton win, obviously.
13.16 Terry Venables is reminiscing over Jimmy Greaves. I flick over to ITV, where the graphics are like an alien’s intestines. Steve Ryder, dressed for a funeral, has Joe Royal, Teddy Sheringham and Andy Townsend with him. They have Amanda Holden walking about in an Everton towel as well, in a transparent attempt to keep males flicking back to Setanta.
13.24 Setanta slip into ITV speak with “the Chelsea gladiators have arrived!” from Angus Scott.
13.25 Steve McManaman’s first FA Cup memory is supporting Everton in the 84 final. Probably not endearing himself to Liverpool fans.
13.31 Some interesting analysis from Craig Burley on both teams, picking out Pienaar for praise.
13.53 El Tel on the teams: “I see ‘em very very similar, and Chelsea have been doing it a bit longer.”
14.06 The team’s are announced. We’re going with Howard, Hibbert, Lescott, Yobo, Baines, Pienaar, Neville, Cahill, Osman, Fellaini, Saha. Craig Burley says Fellaini “sort of plays in that little hole”. That aside, he seems pretty incisive compared to most.
14.11 Interview with Tim Cahill. It’s good until the end where he says – presumably at the producer’s behest – to camera: “Love me or hate me, but never underestimate me.” Oh Timmy! Oh well. What does it matter.
14.19 On ITV Tim Cahill is introducing the team. Good value. ITV then go back to Amanda Holden. Jesus, give me strength.
14.33 Angus Scott is getting all literary. “For whom does the bell toll today?” Obviously he’s referring to the anti-fascist guerrilla movement that inspired the FA competition. Nice one.
14.40 Interview with Moyes, who seems pretty chipper. He admits he was tempted to play Rodwell and says he may feature. Apparently it’s bloody boiling at Wembley so I think both sides will get subs on early. Thirty five degrees!
14.43 McManaman is really talking like he wants Everton to win. I really hope it’s a good game.
14.50 They're singing Abide with Me.
14.54 The players are in the tunnel. The fans are singing. The commentators are flourishing their silliest and overblown non sequitors, which, for some reason, I find completely forgiveable today. Now they're walking out. We are playing in blue.
9.00 I’m finally up, dressed and hygenic. Get the paper and read it over breakfast. A good omen occurs when I accidentally spray chocolate soya milk all over a picture of Guus Hiddink’s face.
9.40 Setanta have started their coverage already, so it’s nice to turn the telly on and begin watching what amounts to, at this stage, a padathon, including some very self-conscious Chelsea fans predicting defeat for Everton on Wembley Way. Excited as I am, I’m not sure I can take six hours of this, so I plan to head out with the paper for a coffee. In a minute.
10.10 Kevin Ratcliffe thinks Fellaini cost £16, £18 million, something like that. Actually the oft-quoted £15m is supposedly an over-estimate.
10.13 Great to hear Graeme Stuart referring to Everton as ‘we’. Eddie Newton sounds a bit drowsy.
10.14 Alex Gordon-Martin is at the Everton team hotel and is talking to the Everton fans. Is it wrong of me to say they seem a lot more cheery and funny than the “fwee-one to Chelsea” Chelsea fans from earlier? Cos they are.
10.15 My mistake. The interviewer back on Wembley way proceeds to now make a bunch of Everton fans sound as dozy as the Chelsea fans did. He – unless I’m missing some post-modern humour – thinks the little kids are wearing ‘Cahill’ wigs. Where do they get these pricks?
10.25 Saint and Greavsie starts. Jimmy Greaves immediately launches – apropos nothing – into a story about how he always refused to go on the bench. Saint’s constant laughter – A HA HA HA! is a bit grating. I go out for that coffee.
10.45 At the café the dreamy ambience of the day is confirmed when a pretty woman offers to give me a massage in the community centre next door. I ignore the fact she is proposing the same thing to all the clientele and consider the offer. It’s the wrong day though.
11.10 Back home and it’s now James Richardson, Stan Collymore and a woman I don’t recognise called Rebecca. Setanta are replaying low-level games from early on in the competition, which is quite interesting but weirdly sponsored by Mini. Then Ray Wilkins makes a brief appearance looking like he’s regularly fired from a cannon into a sun lamp – though to be fair he is pretty amiable and, bearing in mind he’s saying absolutely sod all, not too dull either. Considering his voice and that.
11.20 Back to the mini-adventure. Barrow are playing Middlesbrough – the Barrow fans have a habit of taking their shoes off and waving them around in support. Good for them. To be honest I’m finding some of Setanta’s pre-recorded stuff a teeny bit smarmy, but it’s still light years ahead of the perennially irksome ITV. Whoever decided to give freeview box owners the FA Cup Final free deserves a pat on the back.
11.33 The crap presenter at Wembley Way is now hopelessly surrounded by noisy Evertonians and just has no idea. Poor sod.
11.40 If I’m not going to suffer any more long shots of bored looking players trying to kill time before kick-off I need to take a break from football. My multi-tasking pedigree is evident as I mull over Scrabble moves online, play poker on the PS2 and browse the hilarious FAIL blog.
11.55 I feel like a heinious bastard, but today I refuse admittance to little Esme from next door who often comes around and just hangs out in our house. Even though right now I’m trying to make a word from six vowels, my main focus is the football and nothing must distract from that. Her dad would understand.
11.56 I come second in the world poker championships, but the euphoria is muted for obvious reasons.
12.10 Back to Setanta, where they’re interviewing Howard Webb. Seems a nice chap. Graham Poll follows on from this with a bit of insight on referees. Stan Collymore says the main thing he wants from a referee is “a big smile on his face”.
12.15 I’m starting to wonder – as I knew I would – if being on my own is a mistake. A mate rings up to wish me luck (okay, to invite me to his birthday bash) and I find myself babbling incoherently down the phone. So maybe it’s a good thing.
12.25 Dave Watson makes an appearance. Hurray! The useless presenter says “Are you worried that David Moyes has never beaten Everton?” Looking for portents everywhere, I find a bit of rocket leaf hanging off my bare foot. And I hoovered yesterday.
12.28 An out-on-the-town piece about Evertonians. Despite growing up in west London the Scouse accent, to me, has an affinity that Chelsea’s Lahdan accents don’t. Maybe because I bloody hated growing up in west London. “I’m the only bluenose in the family, yeah” sadly states a bearded middle-aged man. “The rest of them are all thick.”
12.30 The sun goes in and Stanley’s light-sensitive percussive cat lets out a little drum roll, which coincides nicely with the Everton players getting on their coach. The normally entertaining Stan Collymore is trotting out clichés right now, maybe he’s a big hungover.
12.35 If this is going to be a patchy day I’ll have to put that cat in a box.
12.42 The 95 cup-winning side have been got back together for a chinwag. This is lovely. “It’s easy for me to say it’s a dream” says Unsworth, “But as a child growing up in Chorley that was all I ever wanted to do.”
12.45 Everton are STILL getting on the coach. Here’s Moysey, prompting Collymore to use the phrase ‘wily Scot’. Rebecca thingy and James Richardson are really impressing me as presenters though. I actually like Alan Hansen on MotD but it’s quite refreshing not to hear him grumbling into his invisible soup.
12.50 Wembley Way. Everton fans are singing over cheesehead’s Chelsea fan interviews. I’m thinking about lunch.
12.54 Collymore is asked who he wants to win and states, unequivocally, Everton. “Be nice to break the monopoly of the top four” he adds.
13.05 There are a couple of fans in the stadium waving a flag. All on their own.
13.11 Terry Venables, sporting a goatee, says Chelsea should win but wouldn’t be surprised at ‘an upset’. Part of me wants to hear some ponce say Chelsea will destroy Everton. There’s too many people hedging their bets. But then again, why wouldn’t they? We are Everton – Chelsea will have a game today.
13.12 Setanta have got a helicopter with a blonde in it.
13.13 Cheeseface is getting the hang of it on Wembley Way now, he actually came across as half-human on the latest link.
13.14 Sam Wallace from The Independent is predicting a Chelsea win. He says they’ll match Everton for effort, and eventually the quality will show. Fair enough call. Graeme Sharp is hopeful of an Everton win, obviously.
13.16 Terry Venables is reminiscing over Jimmy Greaves. I flick over to ITV, where the graphics are like an alien’s intestines. Steve Ryder, dressed for a funeral, has Joe Royal, Teddy Sheringham and Andy Townsend with him. They have Amanda Holden walking about in an Everton towel as well, in a transparent attempt to keep males flicking back to Setanta.
13.24 Setanta slip into ITV speak with “the Chelsea gladiators have arrived!” from Angus Scott.
13.25 Steve McManaman’s first FA Cup memory is supporting Everton in the 84 final. Probably not endearing himself to Liverpool fans.
13.31 Some interesting analysis from Craig Burley on both teams, picking out Pienaar for praise.
13.53 El Tel on the teams: “I see ‘em very very similar, and Chelsea have been doing it a bit longer.”
14.06 The team’s are announced. We’re going with Howard, Hibbert, Lescott, Yobo, Baines, Pienaar, Neville, Cahill, Osman, Fellaini, Saha. Craig Burley says Fellaini “sort of plays in that little hole”. That aside, he seems pretty incisive compared to most.
14.11 Interview with Tim Cahill. It’s good until the end where he says – presumably at the producer’s behest – to camera: “Love me or hate me, but never underestimate me.” Oh Timmy! Oh well. What does it matter.
14.19 On ITV Tim Cahill is introducing the team. Good value. ITV then go back to Amanda Holden. Jesus, give me strength.
14.33 Angus Scott is getting all literary. “For whom does the bell toll today?” Obviously he’s referring to the anti-fascist guerrilla movement that inspired the FA competition. Nice one.
14.40 Interview with Moyes, who seems pretty chipper. He admits he was tempted to play Rodwell and says he may feature. Apparently it’s bloody boiling at Wembley so I think both sides will get subs on early. Thirty five degrees!
14.43 McManaman is really talking like he wants Everton to win. I really hope it’s a good game.
14.50 They're singing Abide with Me.
14.54 The players are in the tunnel. The fans are singing. The commentators are flourishing their silliest and overblown non sequitors, which, for some reason, I find completely forgiveable today. Now they're walking out. We are playing in blue.
Friday, May 29, 2009
"You call lifting ten thousand stones fun?"
These pre-FA cup film quotes always seem to be filled with an eerie prescience, no matter which one I go for. They seem to imply an impossible task, or a choice between triumph and dismal also-ran.
We gotta get back to the future.
Show me the money.
Open the pod bay doors, HAL.
I'll be watching the game on my own. John, regular telly-mate for this FA Cup run, has managed to get himself stuck on a camping trip, and after a bit of soul-searching I decided I'd rather watch solo than with Everton-sympathetic pals. For while they'd cheer an Everton goal and sigh at a Chelsea one, the sheer extremes of emotion (and behaviour) I'm expecting to go through means that, in company, I'd find myself self-conscious and slightly restrained. On my own I can scream at will. There's always the pub of course, but frankly the freedom of beverages, clean toilets, and fantastic views unimpeded by heads and undisturbed by gobby bellends who kept shouting "Look at the SPACE!" on Wednesday's Champions League final afforded me at home mean I'm unlikely to succumb to that option. Weird I know, but I have the house to myself this weekend and, blinds drawn, I'm looking forward to behaving like a gobby bellend myself.
Chelsea are obviously favourites but unlike the semi-final, where we were given a snowflake's chance in hell, we're now thought of as nippy and determined snowman skipping through the inferno, wearing our home kit. Every small advantage helps, to paraphrase Tesco. Our injury list is well documented, but thankfully Phil Neville and Stephen Pienaar are over their hamstring doubts so we can play our midfield terrier and, in Pienaar, the player in whom most of our hopes lie in creating chances. My hope is Moyes will start with Rodwell, who looked the business against Fulham. But then again Castillo played really well at Stamford Bridge... Osman is better in the middle than wide... it's not easy this stuff is it? What is easy is afterwards saying he got it wrong if we lose, but as long as we give it a shot I'm going to bloody well enjoy it. Do Chelsea have any injury worries? I've no idea, and I'm not going to start pinning our chances on one particular player being home waxing his car. Or his arse.
We gotta get back to the future.
Show me the money.
Open the pod bay doors, HAL.
I'll be watching the game on my own. John, regular telly-mate for this FA Cup run, has managed to get himself stuck on a camping trip, and after a bit of soul-searching I decided I'd rather watch solo than with Everton-sympathetic pals. For while they'd cheer an Everton goal and sigh at a Chelsea one, the sheer extremes of emotion (and behaviour) I'm expecting to go through means that, in company, I'd find myself self-conscious and slightly restrained. On my own I can scream at will. There's always the pub of course, but frankly the freedom of beverages, clean toilets, and fantastic views unimpeded by heads and undisturbed by gobby bellends who kept shouting "Look at the SPACE!" on Wednesday's Champions League final afforded me at home mean I'm unlikely to succumb to that option. Weird I know, but I have the house to myself this weekend and, blinds drawn, I'm looking forward to behaving like a gobby bellend myself.
Chelsea are obviously favourites but unlike the semi-final, where we were given a snowflake's chance in hell, we're now thought of as nippy and determined snowman skipping through the inferno, wearing our home kit. Every small advantage helps, to paraphrase Tesco. Our injury list is well documented, but thankfully Phil Neville and Stephen Pienaar are over their hamstring doubts so we can play our midfield terrier and, in Pienaar, the player in whom most of our hopes lie in creating chances. My hope is Moyes will start with Rodwell, who looked the business against Fulham. But then again Castillo played really well at Stamford Bridge... Osman is better in the middle than wide... it's not easy this stuff is it? What is easy is afterwards saying he got it wrong if we lose, but as long as we give it a shot I'm going to bloody well enjoy it. Do Chelsea have any injury worries? I've no idea, and I'm not going to start pinning our chances on one particular player being home waxing his car. Or his arse.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
si je dois être un cadavre, je peux aussi bien être un cadavre présentable
(said whilst shaving)
Just a quick post to say David Moyes has picked up this seasons LMA Manager of the Year award, beating off the challenge of burgundy-paletted Ferguson and the most effacing man in football, Roy Hodgson. Both were excellent candidates obviously, but for Everton to finish 5th again, and reach the FA Cup final, whilst our squad were going through the football equivalent of no-man's-land in terms of injuries meant Moyes took the gong (is it a gong? Maybe it's a bronzed pack of chewing gum) for the third time in his seven year tenure at Everton. And as far as Sticky Mince is concerned the guy deserves it - not just for what he does but the way he does it.
Watching this for about the fifth time, and still getting tears in my eyes, it's notable that Moyes is civility personified at the final whistle of the semi-final, taking a moment with Ferguson but not forcing him to exchange any words. Contrast that with Phil Brown singing on the pitch at Hull, saying saving them from relegation is the biggest thing "I've" ever done - maybe it's po-faced of me but I much prefer Moyes' old-fashioned approach. And no matter what happens on Saturday, Moyes has overcome a dreadful Autumn to give us a season to remember.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
I'm packing you your angry eyes, just in case
On Saturday we set off for London with Stan, headed for our friends Paul and Jo's house, with me knowing only that Paul had a belated birthday surprise planned for me on Sunday. With hindsight it seems like it was destined, and certainly the possibility of going to the game occurred to me, but owing to some misdirection on the part of Paul, Jo, and Sally, it wasn't until we were on the train to Putney, and I was looking at a lad in a Mikel Arteta shirt, that I began counting chickens. Paul works in the film industry so I still didn't discount the possibility of a last-minute right turn into the Putney Odeon for a special preview screening and a gigantic pack of Revels, but we followed the throng over Putney Bridge and up to Craven Cottage.
So, in a curious case of having my prawns and eating them, for the second time only Sticky Mince brings you the match report direct from the stadium. A huge thank-you to Paul, as presents go this is tops.
For me, a inveterate watcher of football via the telly - and usually highlights at that - the novelty of going to a game is manifest in several ways. The crowds, the noise, the scale of events obviously. But also the uninterrupted flow of the game. I don't know what I expected - the players to gather around a monitor and watch every near-miss replayed or something - but without a commentator there to trot out a series of banal self-evident truths, I hugely enjoyed being completely immersed in the game. Luckily it was a good one, as when I saw us lose to Blackburn at Goodison we were largely shite.
Moyes, to his credit, started with a strong side, only Fellaini rested and Rodwell starting in his place, with Cahill supporting Saha up front. And we started pretty well, with ex-Cottager (if I may) Louis hitting the crossbar early on. Rodwell was impressing us and he also tested Schwarzer, as Everton had the better of the openings. I knew we were generally poor against Fulham, but what I didn't realise was we hadn't won there since 1966. And there were one or two moments when that poor run looked to continue as Fulham, with Danny Murphy pulling the strings, opened up the defence without quite creating a clear-cut chance. In fact for an end-of-season game it wasn't at all laid-back, as we looked to cement fifth and Fulham, of course, wanted to be sure of a Europa League place.
Whenever I write Europa I think of that Lars Von Trier movie and get a sense of foreboding.
Anyway for us Pienaar and Rodwell were looking lively, but it was Osman who opened the scoring with a neat finish as he skipped around Schwarzer from Pienaar's through ball just before half-time. We just about deserved it, I felt, and elected to forego the half-time beer queues to watch the entertainment. Despite the score Fulham supporters were understandably in good cheer and the atmosphere was pretty good - also in the away section of course where the singing was all about the FA Cup.
In the second half Everton were attacking the Putney End, where we were, and Saha drew another save from Schwarzer with a far-post header off Osman's cross. Fulham had their moments too, but mostly these were blasted into various late-alphabet rows by substitute Bobby Zamora. By this time the Fulham fan sat behind us who'd been channelling the ghost of Grandad from Only Fools and Horses for most of the 90 minutes was clamming up. It just felt like Everton's day, and Osman made sure with a peach of a goal (and it wasn't deflected, Sky morons) as we approached 90 minutes. A few Fulham fans left then, like the kid who screeched "f**king scouse c**ts" as he climbed the stairs, before going home to presumably punch himself repeatedly in the face. He was almost worth the admission alone (not that I paid).
The home support by and large though weren't fussed - especially as Spurs lost - and on a day for neutral fans everywhere, Newcastle went down. (I didn't exactly exult at that result, but by God I'm bored of hearing about them from an obsessed media and a self-regarding manager. Joe Kinnear was hardly the messiah, but his points record is distinctly better than Alan "everyone must take some of the blame" Shearer's.)
Nice of Paul to lay on the win, then, and Everton go into the final next week in good form.
Tim Howard: couple of good saves. 8
Tony HIbbert: not at his best, but ok. 7
Joleon Lescott: Class 8
Joey Yobo: ditto 8
Leighton Baines: not at his marauding best, but always gets forward and tidy. 7.5
Phil Neville: decent shift 7
Jack Rodwell: very exciting prospect 8
Leon Osman: would love to see him get tougher on the ball, but two classy goals 8
Stephen Pienaar: hugely important next week, our most creative player without Arteta 8
Tim Cahill: Looked out of sorts I thought but up for it as usual 7
Louis Saha: Unlucky not to score, though I'd like to have seen him charging about a bit more. Maybe next week. 7.5
Monday, May 18, 2009
2nd prize is a set of steak knives
Throughout my college life I snuck off as often as possible to play football - with mates, with the shaggy-haired cool dudes (see old, bitter posts) from Graphics, and with the kids in the park over the road from our house. Me and my housemates were there so often we pretty much knew the kids by name - there were about ten of them in all, varying from 8 to 12 in ages I'd guess, and - this being Maidstone, Kent - they pretty much universally supported Man Utd. Anyway, come 1995 and we - Everton now - were on a Cup run. We scraped by Newcastle in the quarter final, trounced Spurs in the semi (the Spurs of Klinsmann, Anderton, Sheringham etc, who were expected by all to waltz past the likes of Joe Parkinson and Barry Horne without breaking sweat) and faced United in the final.
Pretty much any United team since of the last eighteen years would be expected to beat Everton, even the ones containing David May. But, without dwelling too much on history, Southall and Limpar - along with Rideout's goal and the whole team's obduracy - won us the cup, and when the shrieking died down I was over to the park, where the youngsters had gone to exorcise their grief.
Did I yell imbecilically in the faces of the innocent United fans? You bet I did. Did I callously put as many past them as I could in our impromptu kickabout? Of course. In my mind, if those kids are going to really appreciate the team they support, they need to experience some of the lows that make up being the supporter of about 88 other teams in the leagues. Then, and only then, will being a United fan by default have any meaning beyond shouting 'Giggsy!' as they hurdle a challenges on the grass of parks across the home counties and blithely scoop another title. If they remembered it after the epic semi final of this year, I'll have done them a favour.
Karmically speaking of course, going on this event alone Chelsea would beat us and a pubescent face from my past would rear up and shout imbecilically in my face. But though I like to invoke it now and again, karma doesn't actually exist. If it did, Joey Barton wouldn't be getting offered a contract by Bolton.
Pretty much any United team since of the last eighteen years would be expected to beat Everton, even the ones containing David May. But, without dwelling too much on history, Southall and Limpar - along with Rideout's goal and the whole team's obduracy - won us the cup, and when the shrieking died down I was over to the park, where the youngsters had gone to exorcise their grief.
Did I yell imbecilically in the faces of the innocent United fans? You bet I did. Did I callously put as many past them as I could in our impromptu kickabout? Of course. In my mind, if those kids are going to really appreciate the team they support, they need to experience some of the lows that make up being the supporter of about 88 other teams in the leagues. Then, and only then, will being a United fan by default have any meaning beyond shouting 'Giggsy!' as they hurdle a challenges on the grass of parks across the home counties and blithely scoop another title. If they remembered it after the epic semi final of this year, I'll have done them a favour.
Karmically speaking of course, going on this event alone Chelsea would beat us and a pubescent face from my past would rear up and shout imbecilically in my face. But though I like to invoke it now and again, karma doesn't actually exist. If it did, Joey Barton wouldn't be getting offered a contract by Bolton.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
I love to travel by train
Everton 3 West Ham 1
Everton at last balanced the karmic scales and moved past Villa (who drew with Boro) into fifth, after Martin O'Neill's lucky pants finally came apart in the wash. Hopefully with one game to go we can stay there. A penalty despatched by Saha, a corner that fell to Yobo - who had time to write a postcard and lick the stamp before belting the ball in - and a clinical third when Pienaar set up Saha were our reply to West Ham's ballistic opener.
I'm really pleased. We've not been playing superbly since beating Man U in the cup, but we've still picked up two wins and two draws from 5 games, so it's pretty decent form for a team that is keeping one eye on the 30th May. I have to admit I've no idea who Moyes will pick up front for the final - Saha on certain days looks class and on others looks disinterested. One would assume though he'd be up for the final, right? Then there's the jackpot-stylings of James Vaughan, and the amphibians-out-of-water Cahill and Fellaini. If Rodwell gets the nod to start in midfield with Neville, it could be the latter pair, who have impressed this season. Fellaini would then be odds on to get sent off of course, but one mustn't approach a game like this wracked with hesitancy. Let's give Terry and the like something to think about.
You may have noticed I've broken the cardinal football law and am now taking it 'two games at a time'. However special circumstances call for special responses (or something) so I'm going the headless chicken route. "Wem-ber-lee! Wem-ber-lee! It went massively over-budget and the ticket allocation is somewhat contentious! Wem-ber-lee!"
Everton at last balanced the karmic scales and moved past Villa (who drew with Boro) into fifth, after Martin O'Neill's lucky pants finally came apart in the wash. Hopefully with one game to go we can stay there. A penalty despatched by Saha, a corner that fell to Yobo - who had time to write a postcard and lick the stamp before belting the ball in - and a clinical third when Pienaar set up Saha were our reply to West Ham's ballistic opener.
I'm really pleased. We've not been playing superbly since beating Man U in the cup, but we've still picked up two wins and two draws from 5 games, so it's pretty decent form for a team that is keeping one eye on the 30th May. I have to admit I've no idea who Moyes will pick up front for the final - Saha on certain days looks class and on others looks disinterested. One would assume though he'd be up for the final, right? Then there's the jackpot-stylings of James Vaughan, and the amphibians-out-of-water Cahill and Fellaini. If Rodwell gets the nod to start in midfield with Neville, it could be the latter pair, who have impressed this season. Fellaini would then be odds on to get sent off of course, but one mustn't approach a game like this wracked with hesitancy. Let's give Terry and the like something to think about.
You may have noticed I've broken the cardinal football law and am now taking it 'two games at a time'. However special circumstances call for special responses (or something) so I'm going the headless chicken route. "Wem-ber-lee! Wem-ber-lee! It went massively over-budget and the ticket allocation is somewhat contentious! Wem-ber-lee!"
Monday, May 11, 2009
Bad dates
Normally at this stage of the season the lustre has faded from both Everton - perennial slow finishers under Moyes (something to do with the squad size?) - and my enthusiasm for posting. However, with the FA Cup Final just three weeks away, not even a scoreless home draw with Harry's Barrow Boys can stop me. Zero shots on goal? We're keeping our powder dry. Creatively bankrupt? Ditto. That said, I confess I've seen nothing of the game as yet, having spent Saturday afternoon at Cotswold Country Park (read it and weep, you disadvantaged plebs) and Saturday night, as is usual these days, in bed. We already into the Europa League so what the hell. Truthfully I'm more disappointed that Everton Ladies lost to Arsenal on Sunday, meaning the Gunners win the women's title on goal difference. Bit of a shame.
Apropos nothing, the last posts of the season will all be titled by lines from my favourite movies - running the gamut from trash to classic French melodrama. Guess them all and you'll be the lucky recipient of a Sticky Mince t-shirt.
Apropos nothing, the last posts of the season will all be titled by lines from my favourite movies - running the gamut from trash to classic French melodrama. Guess them all and you'll be the lucky recipient of a Sticky Mince t-shirt.
Friday, May 08, 2009
Mental
Lazily looking through the Guardian's recommended YouTube watches, I find myself getting increasingly irked. As bad as some UK football commentators are, they at least aren't part of the Trans-European-South American competition of seeing who hold a note the longest when they shout 'Goal'. Someone did it once and it was funny, now it's just talentless idiocy.
Speaking of which, I watched The Mentalist last night, which I enjoyed up to a point. The Mentalist is an ex-cold reading 'psychic' who, after having his family murdered by a serial killer, joins up with the police and smirks his way through a series of investigations led by the curiously 1970's looking Robin Tunney and the tight-sweater-bedecked Amanda Righotti plus a couple of no-mark dudes - making it just like, I'd guess, the real California Bureau of Investigation. Anyway, as the 'Mentalist' is a skeptic, it seemed quite a refreshing take on crime - through the eyes of a cold-reader. That is, until the last ten minutes of last night's episode, when unable to sustain the courage of their convictions, the writers allow our twinkling hero to receive a message from his wife and kid via a medium he has previously been completely scathing of.
Why not just call it The Weak-Willed Behavioural Pyschologist? Utter toss.
Speaking of which, I watched The Mentalist last night, which I enjoyed up to a point. The Mentalist is an ex-cold reading 'psychic' who, after having his family murdered by a serial killer, joins up with the police and smirks his way through a series of investigations led by the curiously 1970's looking Robin Tunney and the tight-sweater-bedecked Amanda Righotti plus a couple of no-mark dudes - making it just like, I'd guess, the real California Bureau of Investigation. Anyway, as the 'Mentalist' is a skeptic, it seemed quite a refreshing take on crime - through the eyes of a cold-reader. That is, until the last ten minutes of last night's episode, when unable to sustain the courage of their convictions, the writers allow our twinkling hero to receive a message from his wife and kid via a medium he has previously been completely scathing of.
Why not just call it The Weak-Willed Behavioural Pyschologist? Utter toss.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Jags
Not that anyone had forgotten, really, but Darren Fletcher missing out on the Champions League final put me in mind of another honest pro who fate dealt a 7-2 off-suit. We have a big game at the end of this month, thanks to this man (far right, not the one on his arse)...
Monday, May 04, 2009
Sbrag that
If I'm being honest I never expected us to get a point at Chelsea, I thought we'd tonk Man City at home and then yesterday morning, during one of Sal's periodic indulgences in listening to me harp on about football, I concluded that with us distracted by the final and Sunderland fighting for survival and goaded by their ex-manager Roy 'of the serially hubristic' Keane as being a bunch of lightweights, I expected a defeat.
So I was wrong, wronger, and yet more wronger. Glad to hold my hand up and admit I know shit-all about football. Hindsight is a great thing, isn't it? If only there was some intellectual equivalent that didn't involve guessing, getting it right and being a bit pompous about it afterwards. I like the fact that Mark Lawrensen actually makes match predictions on the BBC website, whatever you say about him - and I don't say much - he does at least give it a go. By contrast Lee Dixon's hilarious 'preview' of the Man U - Arsenal second leg was a lesson in saying absolutely bugger all. I just tried to find the link but maybe they've removed it from embarrassment.
Anyway, I confess I've not even seen highlights from this game yet, and come to think of it I haven't owned an armchair in years either.
So I was wrong, wronger, and yet more wronger. Glad to hold my hand up and admit I know shit-all about football. Hindsight is a great thing, isn't it? If only there was some intellectual equivalent that didn't involve guessing, getting it right and being a bit pompous about it afterwards. I like the fact that Mark Lawrensen actually makes match predictions on the BBC website, whatever you say about him - and I don't say much - he does at least give it a go. By contrast Lee Dixon's hilarious 'preview' of the Man U - Arsenal second leg was a lesson in saying absolutely bugger all. I just tried to find the link but maybe they've removed it from embarrassment.
Anyway, I confess I've not even seen highlights from this game yet, and come to think of it I haven't owned an armchair in years either.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Man City
How wrong can you be? I had even cockily put a tenner on that 3-0 home win, only to hear of a fairly dismal capitulation to City, who up until yesterday had only won one game away from home all season. Because it's 6.39am and I don't want to think about it, and because Sticky Mince has something of a tradition of self-misdirection, and because the only rules are the ones I decide, I'll instead review the film we watched last night, King of Kong.
Sal had her doubts when I said King of Kong was about the setting of world records on retro video games, specifically Donkey Kong, by a bunch of essentially loony people. Even I did, to be honest. But as well as a film about obsessive nerds - and boy, it is - it's also a classic battle of wills between world champion Billy Mitchell - a cross between David Brent and a Bee Gee - and self-effacing challenger Steve Wiebe. Billy has been champion since 1982, with a score no-one has been able to get near in the many years since. Then Steve beats it - or appears to. Without giving too much away, what follows incorporates the slippery weaseliness of a titanic ego, the seemingly doomed-to-fail challenge, referee resignations, possibly forged video tapes and tribute songs. It's an absolutely crazy, crazy story and I recommend the film unreservedly. Or at least, a lot higher than straining to hear Mike Ingham saying "Jagielka is leaving the field on a stretcher" while trimming a boisterous ivy bush.
Sal had her doubts when I said King of Kong was about the setting of world records on retro video games, specifically Donkey Kong, by a bunch of essentially loony people. Even I did, to be honest. But as well as a film about obsessive nerds - and boy, it is - it's also a classic battle of wills between world champion Billy Mitchell - a cross between David Brent and a Bee Gee - and self-effacing challenger Steve Wiebe. Billy has been champion since 1982, with a score no-one has been able to get near in the many years since. Then Steve beats it - or appears to. Without giving too much away, what follows incorporates the slippery weaseliness of a titanic ego, the seemingly doomed-to-fail challenge, referee resignations, possibly forged video tapes and tribute songs. It's an absolutely crazy, crazy story and I recommend the film unreservedly. Or at least, a lot higher than straining to hear Mike Ingham saying "Jagielka is leaving the field on a stretcher" while trimming a boisterous ivy bush.
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