Cock of the Walk

I have done my best to keep up with American sport while being abroad, unfortunately Israeli media and my own interests do not coincide. I sat off tonight in the hopes that a local neighborhood pub might be showing a NFL playoff game, but was ultimately left dejected having found none of my local neighborhood pubs were carrying any of this weekends games. Instead they were showing the Uzbeki League cockfighting and bestiality semifinal, another downside of living in a neighborhood full of Soviet immigrants. I payed the bartender from Ukraine Boris, and said farewell to my friends, a married couple from Belarus, Boris and Boris. Their favorite saying is “No I am Boris she is Boris, you know this because she has mustache.” I was feeling generous and offered to also pay their tabs. I was shocked to have discovered from the receipt that they each had consumed 2 bottles of Smirnoff each, since they seemed fairly sober at the time i.e. had not yet stabbed any of the other bar patrons. I went home and logged onto the internet to see what had transpired in this round of playoffs.
It seems to me that a boxscore can only give you so much information as to how a game actually played out, so instead I have decided to write down a hypothetical series of match reports based on my own knowledge of this years NFL and pre-existing prejudices.
In Pittsburgh a close game was played between the hosts Steelers and the visiting Baltimore Ravens. An interesting case study in how being rich, famous, and able to throw a ball sixty yards on a rope can let you off the hook for any crime that you might like to commit. Ben Rothlisberger, Pittsburgh’s starting Quarterback had a vintage performance throwing 19 for thirty two passes and molesting nine cheerleaders in the locker room. Defending him was veteran linebacker Ray Lewis who had a disappointing game by his own lofty standards being only able to muster six tackles and two discharged firearms. Pittsburgh won the game and will advance to the next round where they will face the New England Patriots whose coach Bill Belichick has a solid game plan drawn up after having stolen all of the Steelers game plans and audibles. As of now this is specualation having not seen any of the game and the fact it won’t kick off for another hour, but I can guess the Patriots defence really grabbed hold of the game of the game by Rex Ryan’s wife’s feet. Which saddened Coach Ryan because he really really likes feet, and Hagen Dazz.
In the NFC, which unabbreviated is the Nochanceinhellanyoftheseteamscanwinasuperbowl Football Conference the Green Bay Packers cornholed the Atlanta Falcons by a score of a lot to not a lot. Brett Farve when asked for comment on his former club the Packers responded “ I am proud of my accomplishments in Green Bay and hope to continue to boost my ego this summer and remain undecided as to weather or not I want to retire, until some pathetic franchise agrees to pay me a salary equal or greater than that of the G.D.P. of Botswana, afterwards I will skip training camp, throw three times as many interceptions to touchdowns that season, and have inappropriate relations with the female trainers,” said the married Farve. He continued “Also I would like to add that I am better playing in my Wrangler Jeans than Aaron Rodgers will ever be on his greatest day, and if it weren’t for the fact that I was so put off by cocktail waitresses in Wisconsin I would still be a Packer to this day.” ESPN will keep everyone posted on continuing developments in this story on their channel ESPN Farve/Yankees/Lakers or as it known to most ESPN-the worldwide leader in sports.
In the final game of the round the Chicago Bears beat the Seattle Seahawks. Jay Cuntler led the Bears past visiting Seahawks and there 1st year coach Pete Carrol, who is still getting used to paying his players on Sundays and not Saturdays.
What a wild weekend of sports it was and in case you were interested Samarkand defeated Tashkant by three cocks, but you won’t find information anywhere but here, so until next time...

Signs of the apocalypse other than Sarah Palin for President

As we all know the world is coming to an end in the year 2012. Hollywood and ancient Mayan people have told us as much to be true. I tend to believe the former. Not that I don’t trust Mayan’s, I mean they build wonderful pyramids, or was that the Aztec’s? Either way things are looking gloomy. Manchester United now hold a 12 point advantage atop the Premier League, and Chelsea are losing away to mighty mighty Wolverhampton. In May I would of told you that both the Spielberg Hollywood elites and the Inca’s could eff off, after all Chelsea had just won the double. I want to rescind my nomination for Carlo Ancelotti to receive the Nobel Peace Prize that I suggested to the committee after last year’s F.A. cup final. Instead he should be forced to eat goat turd, or watch an episode of Cougar Town. You are probably thinking, “but I think goat turd is delicious how is that a proper humiliation?” And you my friend are right. Roman Abramovich and myself being the Chelsea braintrust, have given Senor Spaghetti an ultamtum. Deliver the Champions League to London SW4 or be locked in an Israeli discotheque after having payed an absurd cover charge, drink fizzy bubblech and listen to a woman being given an abortion over the loudspeaker, or as they call it in Israel, Mizrachit music. Oh wait that’s actually what they consider a night out in Israel.

Hilton family owes me an apology

Almost two full rounds of games have come and gone in this year’s Mundial, and if we have learned anything it’s that Raymond Domenech sucks more than we once thought, and all the talk about the official match ball giving the strikers an unnecessary advantage was a load of bollox. Scoring is way down and my interest is waning. Before the tournament started I thought I would give it a go at seeing every single match. Before Day 3 had finished my effort had been proved futile.
It is a fact of life that sharing sucks, and if I had my way every thing would be given to me on a silver platter. Unfortunately here at the Hilton Mishmar Haemek, management only supplied 1 T.V. between 25 guests. About a week ago I had wanted to see a mid afternoon game between Germany vs. (I am forgetting now, but probably some country Germany invaded in the middle of the last century), only to find out that the plasma set in the hotel lobby piano bar was being used. The offending party had put on the DVD "Crossraods" starring Britney Spears which they had all probably seen at least ten times each in the last year.
Not wanting to be a brat about it, I farted really loudly upon exiting the room and returned to my penthouse suite on the 17 level to sulk.
To be fair in the last ten days I have probably taken in about six or seven matches, and to be honest that is a lot of soccer soccer even for a madman like myself. I almost feel bad to a certain extent for the real journalists having to cover the tournament,hours upon hours of watching roughly the same sequence of events unfold in all too predictable manner, compounded by the incessant buzz of the assclowns with their stoogesticks. Then I remember they were given complimentary tickets and accommodations in South Africa to write about sport and they receive significant compensation for their effort. On the other hand, I write my blog for free, work in a smelly chicken coop and am being constantly attacked by roosters(COCKS), and the place smells almost as bad as the tunnel of shit that Andy Dufraine crawled through in Shawshank Redemption. In addition I am given fuck all in compensation. To make matters worse it’s blistering hot outside and the hotel's pool is still being renovated. Next time I’m in Israel I’m going to stay at the Marriot Magaan Michael.

Stick it up your ass

What ever happened to the football chant? As a football fan I pride myself that unlike other sports, our spectatours can burst into song containing ample wit and sense of occasion. Thanks to vuvuzela, the most pleasurable part of any big match, the ambient sounds of the crowd, has been inverted into an assault on good taste. It was my dream to go to this year's World Cup, but after having watched most of this week's matches I am so thankful that I didn't. The vuvuzela could be the most annoying invention since the pop-up internet ad. At least after wading through the countless barrage of pop-ups, you could see some doctored photos of the Olson twins. In case you don't know what a vuvuzela is, they are what the South African populace uses to signal to police they are being robbed, which needless to say is quite frequently. In a twisted turn of events some asshole thought it would be a good idea to paint their panic horns in team colours, and sell them to spectatours who in turn could blast them constantly while watching the footy match. Imagine spending $2,000 dollars to fly out to South Africa this summer another $2,000 on hotels, and even more money on food beer, narcotics, and match tickets only to find your self sitting next to some doucher, sounding like a 230 lb. wasp. I think in that case I should be able to stab the motherfucker, the irony would be that his police signal would be muted out by all the other assclowns in attendance at the stadium.

Stealing ideas from David Letterman

Top 5 things Robert Green should do after the world cup:

1. Request a move to the spanish league

2. Install video surveillence on his property

3. Never go on youtube and look for Robert Green-World Cup

4. Fly to Bermuda and pick up his 4 million dollar payoff, after having put his life saving's on a U.S. England draw.

5. Cocaine

Something to think about

When asked who he fears in this world cup, Maradona responded. "I don't fear anyone - unless he is wearing a mask." Two days into this year's Mundial, I now have a new favorite quote of all time. This also got me thinking what is that I fear. I live in Israel surrounded by hostile nations, who would like nothing more than to see the complete eradication of the Jewish nation. I don't speak the native tongue, I have no family here, only a handful of friends, and in two months I have to move out of my comfort zone on the Kibbutz and find a apartment and a job somewhere that isn't the Kibbutz. But like Maradona I like to say I don't fear anyone, unless he is wearing a mask. Of course in my case, if said someone is wearing a mask, there is a good chance they might be affiliated with Hamas or Hezbollah. I really don't know what the fuck Maradona is talking about.

Day 2 preview, 1 day early

Welcome back to the little blog that could. I am writing with less than six hours to go before the opening kickoff of the 2010 World Cup, and I am still hungover from last night. That being said I need to crack open a cold one and dive right in to the next segment of the "Ultimate Fake Guide to the World Cup." Saturday will be our first taste of three games in one day, and in South Korea people will be at fever pitch in anticipation of their first game against Greece. Backyards in Korea will be filled with the savory aroma of dog meat, and the the Greeks will be rioting in the streets, not because of the game, but because that is what they do in Greece. I have little knowledge of either squad other than the Greeks are boring, pack ten behind the ball and hope to win 1-0, and they use too much hair gel. The Koreans will avoid traveling to the game by submarine, for fear of their neighbours to the north shooting torpedoes at them. I predict the Koreans will travel by bus.
Next up is Argentina vs. Nigeria. This will be our first glimpse of Lionel Messi, but more importantly hot girls from Argentina in skimpy outfits. Coach of Argentina, Diego Maradona, who is probably high right now, picked 15 forwards for his squad. He left everyone who follows soccer regularly dumbfounded when he left out of his squad, Esteban Cambiasso and Javier Zanetti, two world class players who inspired Inter Milan to the Champions League glory. Cambiasso who plays midfield and Zanetti who plays in the defense, would start for every team in the world, but because the Argentine F.A. chose a crack addict to lead the squad, I would not be surprised if Argentina became the first major casualty of the World Cup. Lionel Messi's individual brilliance won't be enough to overcome the fact that Maradona is a bigger dope than the bag he smoked last night. As with all the African teams, Nigeria will be playing with extra vigor and resolve. This Nigeria squad is not blessed with the quality that "Screaming Eagles" fans are accustomed, but a favorable group draw could well see them to the Second phase, stay tuned.
The last game of the day is the biggest and most monumental match I might ever witness, England vs The United States of America. England last contested the yanks in '76. Team captain Washington, was brilliant on the day, winning man of the match honours. Midfield Maestro, Arnold, shocked everyone by scoring an own goal in the first half, but was substituted for defender Lafayette who was equal on the day to English striker Cornwallis. A strange thing happened that fateful day, the French team arrived by flotilla and blockaded the stadium. The English in a unprecedented show of good sportsmanship ceded all Native American territory between the Appalachian Mountains and the Mississippi River to the United States.
We are now moments away from kickoff, time to get this party started. Good luck to everyone who made a bet, and if you bet on Argentina I will have to assume you were high.

Drinking around the world, in cups

In case you were living under a rock or are from the United States you might of heard that the World Cup is set to begin this week. Here at the DrogsBollox I wanted to give you a quick rundown of what to expect from this summer's tournament. Included in my mini-guide will be facts, figures, and my own personal misgivings on life. To start things off let's talk about the host country South Africa. Founded in the year who gives a shit by a bunch of crooks deported form England, deemed to vile even to live in Liverpool, South Africa has grown to be the second most prosperous country in the Southern tip of Africa trailing only the mighty Botswana. You might of heard of Nelson Mandela. In case you haven't you probably grew up in South Africa. Star player Stephen Pinnear is expected to lead his country to a strong 4th place finish in group A. While there might only be 4 countries in each given group, it will be a great success if the team comes out of the tournament with their wallets still in their own possession. South Africa's leading exports include, conflict diamonds, dried meats, and Apartheid. Facing the South African team, affectionately known as the Chumbawumbas will be the Taco Bell/Julio's Car Wash All Star Selection Squad, or better known as, the Mexican National Team. This team is expected to do well, the main stumbling block to any success they might achieve is their proclivity to taking siesta's at half-time. Many expect the "Bean Team" to take a commanding lead by half time of the opening match. The challenge will be for the officials to wake the players up in time to take the field for the second period. I expect the first game to end 5-5, with South Africa falling agonizingly short of taking the full 3 points, due to the fact the ref having to red card the whole South African Squad for trying to steal his card book even though he keeps no money in it.
In the other match of the opening day we have France Vs Uruguay. The French,who famously can't fight, and would be speaking German had it not been for American intervention, are a shadow of the team that dominated the early part of the decade. Without the legendary Zinedine Zidane, they come into the tournament without any creativity or guile. New laws were passed in France that disallows any religious symbols to be worn in public. It's a shame because it will take the grace of god for these frogies to have any chance of reclaiming glory of tournaments past. Former coach Raymond Domenech was said to have picked his squad based on the astrological calender, I wish I was joking, but this is the gods honest truth. Frank Ribery the most famous tadpole of the lot will hope to keep the team afloat, but it's this writers opinion that they will fall short of eventual group winners Uruguay in the opening match, leading to new laws in France banning the public display of the French jersey. Uruguay who won the first two World Cups in 1930 and '34 are expected to field a strong squad and could be a dark horse pick to make a deep run in this tournament. Schoolchildren will be laughing their asses off after hearing that their really is country that sounds a lot like U.R.Gay. And with that readers we have a wrap up of day 1 of this year's tournament. I want to invite you to join me for the second and final installment of my guide to the Fifa World Cup, coming out as soon as I'm drunk enough to write it. Cheers

My blue decade in review: The 'aughts

All over the Internet as well as in magazines, writers ranging from the dimwitted to the obtuse have been compiling top 10/25/100 etc... lists of the most memorable moments, people, events, ideas, and other nouns of this last decade. This being primarily a football blog, and a unabashedly pro Chelsea one at that, I have decided to take part in this sort of list making tomfoolery. Here I want to present to you the team of the decade according to one punter. To start off if you know anything about the sport you will know the key to being a great goalkeeper is to have a equally great mustache. That is why I would have to put Ed DeGoey of the Netherlands in between the sticks. Ed who looked like a Dutch porn star, was known to keep a secret amount of milk hidden in his mustache, and when strikers would levy shots at him thick and fast Ed never would sweat it. DeGoey noted that it is customary before every big match in Holland that towns commence in mile long orgy's along the riverfront. Needless to say the milk Ed carried in his mustache was not from the carton. Ed was last seen handing out fliers for his dildo shop in Amsterdam.
If I was the manager putting this team of the decade together I would insist on a traditional four man defence. As the manager I would list myself first on the team sheet slotting neatly into the right back position. Some might not be familiar with what I am able to do on a pitch and wonder weather a more appropriate selection might have been Paulo Maldini or Gary Neville. Just know one thing, they both suck and I am better than them. Next to me I want John Terry to do all the running and chasing and tackling and heading and defending and anything else that needs to be done to ensure that no one from the opposing squad can score. John Terry is a big strapping lad and this sort of defender works best with the kind of complementary defender with agility, pace, and vision. I can think of no one who better fits this mold than Latka from Taxi. It turns out after Andy Kaufman faked his death, he trained to be a professional footballer. He goes by the assumed identity Ricardo Carvalho, but anyone who has seen a picture of Carvalho will instantly recognize Latka. When told of his selection to be in my first ever greatest team of the decade list, Carvalho grinned sheepishly and muttered a much familiar "Thank you very much." If I have to be serious for a second and really judge a player based on their decade in sport, the only logical choice would be playing John Terry's avatar clone in at left back. Think of a 67 foot tall blue ball stopper, and he wouldn't need a jersey because naturally he's already blue. Six short of a dream team I must blog on. Carlo Ancelotti ushered in the era of the midfield diamond, and here at the DrogsBollox I would like to honor this innovation with the midfield diamond of my imagination. To anchor my diamond I need strength but I also need vision and guile. I would like to nominate a man oozing in both Barack Obama, 44th president of these United States. Suck it Republicans. Next up we have Dennis Wise. Not only a clever passer Wise also "SCORED A FUCKING GREAT GOAL, A FUCKING GREAT GOAL IN SAN SIRO". Which are the lyrics to the number one terrace classic, "Dennis Wise scored a fucking great goal". Who better to compliment Wise than Zinedine Zidane, who according to Marco Materazzi has a whore of a sister, and a slut of a wife. That being said he was a true footballing great and no one can deny that he was the most gifted player of this generation. The only knock on him would be his teammates would complain his breath smelled like garlic and frogs feet, unless of course he was with the French national team. At the top of my midfield diamond I want a game changer, and if Paul Scholes didn't have ginger balls I would nominate him. Instead of Old Ginger Nuts we need an American in this team, other than me of course. Ever since 2006 I feel Clint Dempsey's career has blossomed at a splendid rate. He has lead Fulham from the brink of obscurity to being the second best football club in West London, and my mate Dane went to school with him so that makes it really neat. Now for the most important nominees, the forwards. My love of Didier Drogba is well known and I would be remised not to include his unique talent in the team of the decade. Most great goalscorers do not possess the unselfish outlook of Drogba. Strikers like Christiano Ronaldo or Fat Ronaldo from Brazil or Ronaldingo are brats and would rather be out late drinking and partying or in the case of Fat Ronaldo from Brazil sleeping with she males than studying the tendencies of the opponent goaltender the night before a big match. Drogba learned to do this after having watched Cool Runnings, more specifically the scene where John Candy tells his bobsled team that in order to be great you have to practice bobsledding in a bathtub and not go get in fights with the asshole German's. Thanks to extra time studying turns in his bathtub, Didier Drogba can now drive a bobsled faster than anyone in the premier league. The one element that is missing from my expertly crafted lineup is the man who will bring that bit of magic to any match. The one player who transcends greatness and is practically divine. Even if it is explicitly written in the Torah to not worship idols, it said nothing about if you wish to worship Gianfranco Zola. There you have the top 11 football heroes of this last decade, and if this next decade is anything like the one which has just passed, I can faithfully predict I will definitely drink a few more pints. Cheers!

Lionel Messi is better than everyone else

The atomic flea has been detonated all over the soccer award circuit. Yes sports fans it has been decreed that argentine international and part time Steve Nash impersonator, Lionel Messi, has swept up all the honors and accolades that one can bestow on a professional soccer player including FIFA world player of the year, and the Ballon d’Or which is a honour given by the French magazine, France Football. While the French magazine might have been tempted to hand the prize over to Thierry Henry, who in last month’s World Cup qualifier heroically swatted the ball with his hand into the path of William Gallas, a Chelsea reject, to eliminate the unlucky Irish lads who now have to settle with the consolation prize of a summer full of beating their wives and shagging their sheep. You cannot really argue with the selection of Messi, I can’t think of any player more deserving. It’s a shame he’s coached by Maradona in the national team, but as the Argentine FA would say, it’s always good to give the most responsibility to the person known to snort the most cocaine. If as I expect the Argentineans get knocked out relatively early next summer, the diminutive Messi could not reclaim his spot atop soccer’s throne. The honours this next December will be given to the person who demonstrates over seven games that they were the best player in a tournament that only lasts seven games. From January until the end of May and again from August until November performances that can win team titles and trophies will no longer need apply. Instead whichever team lifts the next World Cup can rest assured that their most valuable player will be taking home all the hardware that Messi has claimed this year. It is my great hope that next summer Didier Drogba can score seven or more goals and go on to lead the Ivory Coast to glory. In that case I would have won a bang load of money and wouldn’t even care who won the player of the year honours. After all soccer is a team sport and individual honours mean next to naught when it comes to what fans really care about, sex.

Merry Christmas Mark Hughes, Ho Ho Ho

News out of Manchester today is that the once anointed Prince of Wales, Mark Hughes is on the oust. Oasis fan boys all over the world will be in tears as they learn the guy who Noel Gallagher thought could lead City into Europe’s elite crop has been axed. Robert Mancini has been charged with the task of convincing his Togolese International and well known Didier Drogba 2nd rate lookalike, Emanuel Adebeyor not to kick any more Arsenal players in the face. Although one could certainly see why you would want to. As one of the cheeky bastard kids in Mighty Ducks would say, 3 games well worth it.
Carlos Tevez is hopeful he is not cast aside once again. Owing in large part to his circus side show appearance, which is said to frighten little children, the City board of directors will green light the purchase of a new striker, who like Robinho will be duped into thinking they are joining United having only been told by their agent that they have been signed by Manchester.
As for Mark Hughes, he is said to have joined Tiger Woods on Party Fucking Island after been offered generous compensation by the Sheik who hijacked err... bought Manchester City. On a personal aside, Mark Hughes was a striker I never saw play personally but having read stories of his short reign at Chelsea I have come to believe he is somehow related to the Trojan hero Achilles, the perfect ideal of the English Number 9. Note how I saw English as the Ivorian Drogba exceeds all hyperbole. Which is the perfect segue into who I think will win the World Cup. Ivory Coast is my pick to lift the trophy this summer. Having seen none of their matches on TV I will trust that a team with Drogba can conquer the so called group of death, which the press is calling all of North Korea’s first round opponents. If the majority of the squad survives kidnap from Kim Jong Il’s hired ninja assassins, they can match up well with any team in the field. They would like to avoid playing host nation South Africa, a team which will advance to the knockout stages by poisoning their opponents’ food, after having worked so well for the South African Rugby World Cup winning squad of ’95, a team that was captained by Matt Damon. The Ivorians’s main hurdle will come in either the form of Brazil or Spain. If this were the English Premier League these two squads would come first and second every time, but it is my belief that the South African People will rally around the squad nicknamed the Elephants, and give them the added home field edge. I am also completely against poaching elephants even though their tusks make a delightful gift for the holidays.