Please help spread the word, if you can, about this latest news from Russia’s richest football club – Zenit.
I’d honestly expected better.
Archive for the ‘Footie’ Category
Oh Dynamo! Ohhhh yes!!! More! More!
August 28, 2008“Мой бело-синий флаг гордо реет над тобою….”
Who’s in the Champions League group stage? Having gone up against rival Spartak, no less? Oh, that would be us, that’s right. Uh huh. Right here.
Why am I never home to watch these things? That little bit of victory for me to savour, why must I always savour it alone, in the company of a toy rabbit strangely similar to Peters’ toy rabbit in a soul-rending short story by Tatyana Tolstaya? Why is it that I am home only to share in the defeats of this club, the club that wasn’t afraid to beat the Nazis on Nazi-occupied territory in one of those moments that Hollywood just couldn’t pass up (in the movie they’re a team of Western allies, because who wants to see a bunch of brave. as opposed to snarling, Soviets? Soviets, most of whom… you know… will later be murdered for their defiance? Hey, I don’t blame anyone for this creative decision, I know how this business works. You take someone else’s sad story, and turn it into an inspirational fairy tale that allows you to rake in the big bucks and inspires countless numbers of people to have sex with you.)? I guess some weird fate-thing is involved in all of this. Somehow. Someone up there is trying to teach me a lesson. About something.
There was a bit of humour in the stands as Dynamo played Spartak last night. The sign that the Dynamo fans are holding up reads, in Ukrainian: “The capital of the Kievan Rus’ [a historic region with Kiev at its heart, the foundation of Russian Orthodox Christianity, that existed before Moscow became the regional powerhouse] greets the guests from the countryside [meaning Moscow, heh heh].” You might be surprised, but Russians find this stuff as hilarious as the Ukrainians. No one gets offended. Well, at least, I’ve never met anyone who does.
In light of this, to think that we, as people and as nations, are even remotely capable of war against one another seems absurd.
Less guns, more football.
I love Casillas – and hate my life
June 29, 2008Germany ALWAYS does this to me. They did this to me in 2002, and they did it to me now. On purpose.
Iker Casillas was the only reason the final was even watchable.
Football: I am at the lowest point on earth
June 26, 2008Quite literally. Watching Russia get their asses beat by Spain is somewhat more tolerable at the Dead Sea Kempinski, I have to say. The minibar is complimentary, I will have you know.
There are also salts for the bath, and many pools, and even one semi-private one for yours truly to indulge in.
And tomorrow I will slather myself with mud, and look out to where, beyond the hills, Jerusalem lies, and feel almost OK.
With thanks to the kind people who made this mini-break possible.
I love you all. Kiss kiss.
Ohhhh yeah!
June 25, 2008Hold on to your jock-straps, ’cause Germany is going to the final BABY YEAH!
I see you baby! Going to the semi-final!
June 22, 2008It’s 3 a.m. in the Holy Land, and I am quietly celebrating Russia’s victory over Holland. I’ve got no one to high-five and no one to knock back the shots with, but I am high-fiving and knocking back shots in spirit, on the astral plane, where the stars shine red tonight. I must admit that I didn’t watch the game. I decided long before that it was going to end in tears, and spent time dorking-out with my extended edition of “The Return of the King” instead.
I’d regret it, but not really. I do have the tendency to curse my team when my spirits are not high overall (and they haven’t been, lately). I just read on a friend’s blog that in the center of Moscow, down the Arbat, someone rode a tractor in the overall pandemonium.
On the astral plane, I am riding that freaking tractor.
I am working on a new essay, so check out the Beautiful Men, Euro 2008 Edition
June 15, 2008From Russia, my Russia: Roman Shirokov (who looks like he should be in the Marines).
From Italia: Luca Toni (smile for me, Cheshire Kitty).
From France: Thierry Henry.
From Spain: Iker Casillas (rocking my face off since 2002) and, since I can’t resist, Fernando Torres.
From Portugal: Helder Castiga and… OK… OK… I trash him in my column, but he’s hot and talented… OK? Happy now? HAPPY NOW? Here he is, Mr. Cristiano “Ferret Grin” Ronaldo.
From Germany: Piotr Trochowski.
I’m all beautified out for now. Will possibly have more, either when I’m done with my essay, or when I find myself hopelessly stuck again. Thanks to Esty for giving me the bright idea.
Pictures of Beautiful People, the May Edition
May 21, 2008May is my favourite month. May is my favourite month in Kyiv, specifically. It’s a month of rain, birdsong, and violets. I am not there to witness rain, birdsong, and violets. Instead I’m busy smashing cockroach guts all over the bathroom floor in Amman.
I’d like to say that I am handling this humbling experience well, you know, learning important lessons about the way the world works while learning the topography of the insides of a cockroach. Deriving an all-encompassing metaphor about the transience of life: one minute the cockroach is scuttling, the next minute he is a mass of crumpled exoskeleton and pus (cockroaches being, of course, one part exoskeleton, one part pus, and one part pure unholy evil). Who needs violets when you have the eternal wisdom of splattered corpses waiting to be scraped off of the bottom of a shoe?
I’m trying really hard to convince myself here.
Trying.
Trying.
FAIL.
I’ve nothing to get by on except for pictures of beautiful people. This is the May edition – dedicated to elemental beauty, timeless as nature.
Helen Mirren (is a goddess with Russian roots – from, appropriately, Sexy Celebrity Photo Galleries):
Whitney Thompson, winner of Cycle 10 of America’s Next Top Model (the show is like crack, and Whitney is easily my favourite addiction – she is old glamour. From CW. ):
Mark Dacascos and Samuel le Bihan, from one of my favourite movies, “The Brotherhood of the Wolf” (from Electric Dragonfly):
Rajaa al-Sanea (author of “The Girls of Riyadh”. From The New York Observer):
Anne Sexton (a stunningly beautiful poet with stunningly hideous problems. From From The Vault Radio):
Zadie Smith (who needs no introduction, really. From The Institute of Contemporary Arts):
Frank Lampard of Chelsea F.C. (from Defected):
Michael Essien, also of Chelsea F.C. (for those of you keeping up with football this week, you may now have a good idea as to what team I am rooting for. From Bloggers Music):
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, another noted author (who, once upon a time was severely overlooked by some folks… folks who ought to be eating crow. From Jamati Online.):
And, last but never least, Mr. Orlando f*ckin’ Bloom (star of the improbable film known as “Kingdom of Hotness” in rarefied circles. From… crap, can’t find the source of picture. Whups.):
And now, back to cockroach pus!
A Classy Day for English Football: Death Threats, Rape Threats, and Racism Against Avram Grant and Tzofit Grant
February 20, 2008Yes, yes, I know using the word “classy” is un-progressive of me. I’m re-claiming it, however. On behalf of… uh, Ukrainian peasants everywhere. That’s right.
After Jose Mourinho left Chelsea, I decided to take a break from blogging about the Premiership. The fact that the new boss, Avram Grant, has received anti-Jewish death threats, not to mention the rape and death threats against his wife, has brought me out of my torpor.
What is there to say?
I suppose this incident can be written off with the usual “but what can you expect, these lads are football fans, that’s what football fans do, don’t watch football if you’re going to be upset.” It’s the same argument that was used against me when I began pointing out to people that the streets of Kiev were becoming more and more unsafe for racial minorities, Jewish men in yarmulkes, and anyone else who might somehow stand out: “but what can you expect, these are thugs, just don’t walk in the bad neighbourhoods if you feel threatened.” Right-o. Except, of course, the attacks were fast-becoming part of mainstream life in the capital.
Similarly, this episode with Avram Grant is part of mainstream football life. Racism and other nasty stuff there, it’s a problem, and being complacent about it isn’t going to do the sport, or anyone at all, any favours. Was it just a bunch of dumb kids who sent that stuff in? Probably. But those kids are going to grown into brawny adults one day. The sort of people whose eyes you try to avoid on the tube, lest they grab you by the collar and spit in your face.
I hope the cops catch them, and I hope they learn a lesson, if they are capable of learning it. Look, we can discuss Grant’s leadership, we can discuss how he was hired, we can discuss the ideological make-up of many Chelsea fans, and we can discuss many things besides, but this? Vile and unacceptable.
I don’t think the people who sent that package can, or should, be described as fans of football. A fan does not turn a sport into a venue for his particular brand of idiotic bigotry. A fan does not want wish to become an embarrassment to the very sport he or she professes to love.
Enough said.
P.S. Other sites on this story: here and here (no, I don’t think it had to happen at all, actually, although, like the author of this post, I am not shocked).
