Messi: That's Entertainment?

Mathias Messi: Proud Owner of World's Creepiest
Homage to a Sibling

After he knocked in a goal or five during Wednesday's Champions League clash with Leverkusen, I thought I'd follow the trend and talk about pocket Argentinian Lionel Messi. This is a topic as far out of my comfort zone as personal grooming is to Andy Carroll.

So why would I venture into that about which I know so little? Well, for starters it hasn't really stopped me before.

It was suggested to me after I revealed I wasn't overly fussed about watching the Barcelona star play. Please save those gasps of shock and horror until the end (although if you do it throughout I'm not *really* going to know, am I?)

But before you all turn off your computers and delete me from your bookmarks (bear with me on pretending I've been bookmarked), let me clear this up - I do not deny he is currently the best player in the world, I'm just not convinced he's the most entertaining.

By being so astoundingly good at football, he's made it all look a bit too easy. There's a basic level of expectancy with forthcoming goals, but it now lacks that buzz. I'm never really excited when he gets his first touch - you know how it's going to end up. Not unlike a few dates I've had...

While the debate over whether Messi or the man who makes Gary Lineker look pasty, Cristiano Ronaldo, is the best player in the world rumbles on, I don't think I'm alone in finding the latter more entertaining. Like him or loathe him, there's an excitement that builds up when Ronaldo gets the ball. Maybe it's in the unknown; Will he skin the defense or go down faster than Katie Price and start sulking like a six-year-old?

I like the unknown and, admittedly, I like a little flare - backheeled goals, pointless step overs, outrageous goal celebrations and so on. I've also been known to admire a player who's a bit of a rogue, and in no sense is that comment a way for me to remind you that I enjoy watching David Luiz or the antics of one Mario Balotelli.*

There is currently nobody in better form than itty bitty Lionel, but when it comes to La Liga, I'd rather watch Ronaldo.


jb xx

*It is.

Shenanigans at the Bridge

Doubters: the photographic evidence it was
not me molesting players.

There was something in the air that night....

Ok, I’ve been antsy waiting to break out an ABBA tribute to Chelsea’s highlighted striker, but he’s been waiting for his time to sparkle - otherwise known as the always untimely African Cup of Nations. Watch this space for a repeat....

That being said, there’s certainly been the air in and around Stamford Bridge. I don’t know if it’s the tip outside Kishmish, or the wind has been blowing funny from Battersea Power Station but there’s definitely something afoot that has been causing hilarity wreaking havoc amongst those inside - and no I don’t mean the players you cheeky monkeys.

After some dodgy results, Chelsea had the good fortune of hosting Stephen Hunt and co. Seemed straight forward, all the goals and such. By the time Chelsea managed to actually find the back of the goal for a third time, the elation was so great that whoever is in charge of the PA deemed it appropriate to throw on some House of Pain - while the match was actually going. Surreal? definitely. Option for a new theme song? Well, not as of recent results, but nevermind.

Was this tribute to early nineties “hip-hop” the only exploit that made me question how many people are actually getting into some very early holiday punch?* Obviously no, or this would end here an couldn’t really count as mischief.

Next up, Chelsea faced Valencia in one of the ‘must-win’ situations that they have got themselves into. As most all of the games now fit that category it doesn’t really narrow it down. Onto the match where Drogba reminded everyone that he’s looking for a new contract why he’s world class with an early goal setting the pace of the game. In reality, Valencia were poor. But how poor could they be? Poor enough for two pitch invaders to not only disrupt the game by running around Walcott style**, but one even managed to dispossess the Valencia midfield without much trouble. With such a willingness to get stuck in and win the ball like that, Meireles broke into such a sweat that his ‘real’ tattoos started to run.

After seeing that just about anyone could impact a game at Stamford Bridge, the fourth official for the match against Manchester City thought he could have a go himself. The match was progressing as normally as any match that features Mario Balotelli could go. Maybe the torrential downpour that night had dampened the tomfoolery. It hadn’t. Mark Halsey  decided that being older and wiser than the ever swarthy AVB that he should make the necessary substitution. After AVB had words with the incorrect numbers flashing up on the substitution board, Halsey turned to the City side and offered them the same help. As punishment, Halsey has been ordered to remain in the technical area within spitting distance of Overlord Ferg throughout December. Lesson learned. 

If you see a pattern emerging - rare wins wreaking comedic havoc - you can forget about that. The final match of the calendar year saw even more pitch invading fun. Although this plucky little fellow wasn’t skilled to show up footballers with tekkers, he did manage to go unspotted. Because there is always supposed to be an extra man on the pitch without shirt or shoes? Who knows how he evaded the crack group of stewards at Stamford Bridge? He managed to get himself out there for a cuddle with Petr Cech before running up to El Cap-i-tain. It’s unclear whether he managed to get a word out after trying to snog JT before being unceremoniously tackled in the centre circle. You may think that this shy and unassuming fellow went off quietly, but he did what I learned to do when I was about 3, go limp and it makes you almost impossible to drag anywhere. Clearly he didn’t think it through as without anything on his feet, he slid pretty easily along the length of the pitch. With both originality and timing to break up a pretty abysmal day, Pitch Invader, I salute you.

Roll on 2012 and remember...

Get up, stand up, come on! Come on, throw your hands up

If you've got the feeling jump across the ceiling!

jb xx

*I may or may not have been one of those people. I can neither confirm or deny this fact. Whether I can remember or not is beside the point.

**Quickly, but without much purpose - but I’m sure you sussed that out.

Dear Premier League, You Are Welcome. Hearts & Kisses CFC

Balotelli arrives at Stamford Bridge

Football and those associated with it will never be accused of making clever decisions. I mean, you only have to look at Wayne Rooney’s hairline for what I like to call ‘exhibit A’ -- but the powers that be at SkySports really need to have a deep dark look at themselves. But moving Chelsea v City to a Monday night so they can placate Liverpool supporters by reminding them of their glory days  help their birds Xmas shop   couldn’t flip a coin and decide who got a lunch / tea time kick off   thought people would only want to watch Sunderland v Bolton this weekend (shh...I know Sp*rs got on the telly too)  .... I’ve really run out of strikethrough options here, and probably be banned from its usage for the rest of this year.

Anyways, after all that nonsense, an actual football match was actually played in London. With Chelsea’s form being, let’s just mildly questionable as of late, and City failing to lose in the league this season, it seemed to be a foregone conclusion to most people that Chelsea would be lucky to get a point from the whole MONDAY night affair. 

....I’ve taken a deep breath now - and will let the Monday night situation go...

With Balotelli scoring faster than Justin Bieber’s ‘romp’, it wasn’t looking good for Chelsea. There was a moment that even I thought the only one getting a slap in the face tonight would be Titus Bramble’s missus. I’m not sure if it was the rain, the goal, or the concern that Balotelli may have brought actual fireworks with him, but there was a lot of running about without any real purpose for the first quarter of the match. It was almost as if Dirk Kuyt had managed to invade the bodies of Chelsea’s midfield for that first 20 minutes.  

Of course, what is being overlooked is the technical astuteness that AVB showed by bringing on Chelsea’s penalty scorer, on Mr Jenny Frank Lampard just before Chelsea were awarded a penalty. Dumb luck? Obviously not. With Clattenberg in charge of the whole affair, someone somewhere was getting a penalty awarded. Some may say that it was City’s pocket sized Spaniard that should have been awarded one early on. Some may say that it was a dive. But what’s clear from twitter accounts that everyone seems to know exactly what a clear penalty looks like .... 

However, the man making the really big calls last night was not Clattenberg or either of the managers. Late in the match, the fourth official felt that he knew what Chelsea and then City needed by making the substitutions up himself. It was difficult to tell if he had been drinking heavily or just thought he knew better than either of the so-called men in charge. I mean, he’d watched the game like everyone else - surely he knows the player that really should be coming off moreso than the two well dressed men beside him. He wears a tracksuit AND has a board with lights. What gives you more authority than that? 

Should we all have a little talk about the petulance shown by the world’s largest man last night? Apparently not only did Mama Toure not pass on the teachings of not taking pills that aren’t for you, but she also didn’t pass on the ‘pick on someone your own size’ message. I’ll give Yaya a pass on the first kick on AVB’s mini me. He could go with the excuse of not seeing him all the way down there - but clearly did. But then to try and slap him too. Did it make Yaya feel good to pick on someone even smaller than David Silva? There’s some school’s nearby Stamford Bridge, Yaya could have found a more suitable opponent there... Maybe hit up a park on the way home?? Not to worry though, the man in charge with the headset and hairplugs DID in fact see both incidents. So, there’s that then.

Of course I know that none of these things are what you really want to know. What you really want to know was how did City’s goal scorer prepare for the match. He did as the locals do and went for a curry.....

...he went for a curry in a way only he could. Not only did it lead to a cost of £150000 <-- that is the right amount of zeroes... he opted to entertain the other patrons at the establishment by engaging in a sword fight with rolling pins as you do.

Poppadom anyone?

jb xx

Readers: "You know what you are, you know what you... "

Mario Fawkes: Now with extra
fire power.

You are people with too much time on your hands, or irresponsible employees looking to kill some time. Somehow, this doesn't seem quite as catchy as it started out... Anyways....

To quote the EoD in his finest eyebrow-iest glory, this is a “bad moment” for Chelsea. Not only have we lost two consecutive London derbies and drew with a team who’s away kit was designed by Victoria’s Secret (other pink pants companies are available). But we have now had more men dismissed than Kim Kardashian. RIP Kris Humphries bollocks career.

Coincidental that I have been suspiciously absent bathing in gin at the same time? There may have been a minor pity party. There were invitations for you all, and as you’ve left me to it, well, I can’t really be responsible for the mishaps in and around South West London. There may be fireworks, there may be a bathroom... it’s now on you lot.

Of course, leave it to Chelsea’s captain fantastic to save the day once again. To distract anyone from considering actual football / defensive lapses. (And by defensive lapses I mean someone who needs to divide and conquer his eyebrows more than Robbie Savage needs to seek help for his spray tan addiction). As you well now, JT is now fully embroiled in the race row that won’t die. Just because he requested to sit on the bench last night so he didn’t have to face Vanden Borre, doesn’t mean he has a problem. Of course the supporters did their part to continue this mass distraction of Chelsea’s poor footballing form by singing out of sheer boredom in support of Terry. Although the chants were also branded as racist, I’m afraid that Anton does in fact know that he is ... a Ferdinand. And despite the club’s protests, Ferdinand is in fact synonymous with c*nt. 

Chelsea’s supporters have been loving the spotlight this week and have made the news this week for more than their collective X-Factor audition in Belgium on Tuesday. Of course, the Pitch Owners succeeded in securing more than 30% of the vote to ensure that Stamford Bridge couldn’t have been dug up and re-emerge where some of Roman’s other ‘projects’ have re-emerged. *taps nose* As I’m hoping to not randomly turn up anywhere near spitting distance of the Black Dolphin prison, I’ll leave it at that. Anyways, there was more bra-burny type giddiness than when Raquel Welch made an appearance. (If you don’t know - look it up and can thank me later for the pictures). Anyways, it was all warm and fuzzy and by that I mean lager soaked and silly after. Obviously once everyone manages to sober up, there will be much more to come.

In other news of people who may want to consider moving, those near Mario Balotelli’s house in Cheshire may want to think about getting as far away from there as possible (if they haven’t done so already). If it weren’t bad enough that there houses stood a pretty substantial chance of being hit by a stray firework, Balo has now got himself a quad bike. But being Balo, he couldn’t just get a quad bike. No. He has only gone an excavated his entire back garden to give himself a proper quad bike track. People of Cheshire, do not say I didn’t warn you. 

And for those of you looking for something in addition to the final matches before the ever dreaded (and pointless ‘friendly’) International break, why not make your own effigy to Balotelli for Guy Fawkes night. Remember: take pictures or it never happened.

jb xx

Red Cards, Blue Shirts and 'Colour' Commentary

Mario Balotelli's Flying Circus

Deary me, another weekend another accusation of racism. I may be blatantly am a little bias here, but I think the parties aren't quite as sinister. We all know that Chelsea have a bit of a proper naughty captain, but he's not a complete div. He's not exactly going to say blatantly racist things to someone while Ashley Cole is right next to him. The one thing we can all take away from this? There are a phenomenal amount of lip reading experts on twitter. I now have a backup plan when I lose my hearing from going to one too many gigs.

Racist accusations aside, QPR's cup final was nothing if not interesting - for the neutrals. The home fans got to see there team manage to hold their own once Chelsea were reduced to 9 men. I know I'd certainly be giving it large to the away support seeing my team just barely manage to keep their one goal lead with 2 extra players on, plus the genius that is Tom Henning Overbo Chris Foy's refereeing tekkers. Good one Rangers.

Some of you out there may be wondering what Drogba was possibly thinking with *that* challenge. No disputing it was definitely a straight red. A fairly reliable source told me that it was one Gunnersaurus who convinced Drogba it'd be a good idea to be sent off. Arsenal need all the help they can get, and by preventing Drogba's guaranteed goal(s) against them this weekend, it puts them back on the level. How did this evil mastermind do this? Word on the street was he locked him in a room, plied his eyes open with toothpics and played a video of Torres' goals this season on a loop. Gunnersaurus is one sick Clockwork Orange loving mascot. Be afraid kids, be very afraid.

Facing rampant criticism from the genius that is Alan Hansen, David Luiz should carry that as a badge of honour. Never change DL, never change. You should be afraid when Hansen starts talking sense about you. Sure, your first half was a little dodgy, and you've now given up a fair few penalties, but you always more than make up for it. Central defender taking *that* overhead kick? All is forgiven you silly curly man.

Speaking of a bad day at the office, deary me SAF. Is there any whiskey or red wine left within the NW of England?? I could go on about the actual result, but why discuss actual fixtures and results when there are far better things to come out of that match. Mario Balotelli - comic genius. The appeal of the Christmas party he's planning just got better. I mean, just when you think he can't possibly he out do himself, he only goes and sets his house on fire. That's right. In the leadup to Sunday's derby, Mario put the darts away and thought it would be a great idea to set off fireworks out his bathroom window. Was it an early derby celebration? Or was this an early Guy Fawkes bonfire? Only Mario really knows.

How could Mr Balotelli possibly top such comic follies on a Friday evening? By revealing his "Why Always Me Shirt?" after scoring the opening goal at Old Trafford on Sunday. For a man who wears diamond encrusted shorts, a shirt with some naff hand writing with a sharpie just won't do. Mario bribed charmed City's kit man into making that shirt up for him. Expect to see them on sale next to the bluffer's guide to City any day now.

Roll on the Carling Cup - I know you're all on the edge of your seats unless of course you got embarrassed in the last round. Then of course no one wants to win this anyways.

jb xx

ps. I would be remiss in congratulating Petr Cech for being the only player in Chelsea's starting XI on Sunday to not receive a card from Tom Henning Overbo Chris Foy.

Red Cards, England Strikers and a Stroppy Frenchman .... Nothing New

Olympic Diving 2012: Team Douche

Finally the giant ‘time out’ that is the international break is over and I have something to do on the weekend again. There weren’t even any dishy rumours to keep us going until the league matches began again this weekend. And let’s be honest, Rooney getting a red card for being a petulant twat is as much news as the rain in Scotland. If only there had been some other global tournament that England could embarrass themselves by exiting in the quarter finals to keep me going....

Back to the league where the men are men and the mouthbreathers refuse to play.

Some of you may have been mildly dismayed (just let me have this one...) at my lack of Bolton - Chelsea blog. However, the men of the Chelsea FanCast allowed me to waffle on about Frank on their actual podcast rather than have to, you know, write it down etc and so on...

*Blantant self promotion contained immediately below*

http://podcasts.footballfancast.com/chelsea_fancast/

Anyways, thanks to one of my very good friends, I got to spend this weekend’s fixture in the ever posh West Stand. It is everything you’ve heard it to be. I mean, I thought the stewards in full black tie was a bit excessive for a football match, buy why not? Right?

A team managed by a feisty Scot and captained by a son of Neville Neville, was always going to be a difficult affair. Everton had managed five success draws at Stamford Bridge, and for the opening 20 minutes, it really did not look like that was going to change. However, as soon as the man I said would find a way through - found a way through it became arguably one of Chelsea’s most comfortable games of the season so far. Juan Mata spread himself around so much that at one point he was nice enough to get me a drink and share the seat next to me. But I digress.

I actually am in need of some help here. I’m confused (about SO many things, but let’s just stick to football shall we). It is both annoyed and bemused me that Fabio Capello has ignored our star striker for so long. How he has not yet made the England squad is beyond my comprehension. But with Rooney now ruling himself out of the group stages at Euro to braid his hair or something, we have a striker who constantly wants the ball, will play in the centre or at the right, and you know, scores lots of f*%^£*@g goals. In my meager estimation, that should pretty much make him an automatic selection. But I am trying to think like a man who thought Emile Heskey was the answer to every question posed of England in the World Cup.

And up north there is currently a battle between two of the most repugnant individuals around. And no, it’s not Rio Ferdinand versus Piers Morgan Part CIXVII. It’s Patrice Evra v Luis Suarez. How does anyone really pick a side here. And it stems from Evra accusing someone of racism, because he’s never done that before. With his high cheekbones and perfectly groomed facial hair, I’m not sure he’s exactly got the street cred to be at the centre of all racism. However, he is accusing someone who feels its ok to actually bite people after the age of 2. I know Suarez has an unfair advantage when it comes to teeth, but he’s really just taking the p*ss there. This one is definitely to be continued...but does anyone care? 

Mini-poll: with a gun to your head, who’s side would you take? 

It may only be October gift, but we have already been given a Christmas gift that will keep on giving - Mario Balotelli will be planning Manchester City’s Chrimbo Party. You’re Welcome.

Happy Champions League week!

jb xx

http://twitter.com/cfc_jb