Beach Wisdom

It was Monday night and I’d just nipped down to the beach for a cooling dip, as you do.  It’d been a muggy day in San Sebastián and I’d been suffering a bit in the office all day.  The good thing about going for a swim early evening is that most of the day-trippers have gone home, and I can usually count on bumping into a sort of mate of mine, an ex-pro neighbour who played for several top-flight clubs but who has been retired for a while now, living the life of Riley as an agent.   Good bloke though, and always up for a natter.  Sure enough, he emerged from the sea five minutes after me and we had a drying-down chat in the fading bronze light of the beach.  

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Happy with Mbappé?

Before we get onto the minor stuff – Messi, Mbappé, Memphis, let me just tell you about my weekend.  Live football is good, particularly after pandemic-based confinements, and so like many other dysfunctional members of my species I’m trying to attend as much as possible.  As Stephen Fry said of religion, ‘It’s what some people do with their madness’.  My madness is more ball than Bible-based, and my pilgrimage sites tend to involve terracing.  Which is why people should never get married on Saturdays.  Why Saturdays, ffs? The wedding reception I was invited to unfortunately coincided with Real Sociedad v Levante on Saturday, meaning that another lucky madman got my seat (I gave it to him, in a Christian act of altruism) but it really isn’t good enough.  Why can’t people have wedding receptions on a Thursday night?  They would then only coincide with the Europa League, and the loss would be of little consequence.   Propose this soon to your local MP. You know it makes sense.

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It’s The Balls!

Never mind the bullocks – it’s The Balls

It’s The Balls!  2019-20 LaLiga round-up.

La Liga round-up, 2020-21

It’s been a weird yet wonderful season, a stranger-than-fiction one, interrupted briefly by the birth and death of a super-league that lasted a week but which seemed more serious than a pandemic in its implications – a season played out against the backdrop of empty seats in a theatre of the absurd, waiting for a Godot who never really came. 

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The 111-year delayed derby

On March 20th, 1910, about 60 metres from the house where I now sit at my keyboard, Athletic Bilbao, sporting for the first time their iconic red and white stripes, defeated Vasconia (about to become Real Sociedad) 1-0 in what was essentially the final of the breakaway tournament UECF (Spanish Union of Football Clubs), now officially recognised in the history books.  Remigio Iza scored the goal in the 56th minute and the ref (Lavat) had come from across the nearby French border to San Sebastián to officiate the tournament’s games. Madrid FC were the other side, and the next day they lost to Vasconia 2-0 in what was essentially a 2nd/3rd-place play-off. 

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Literary pitches, football bitches

I’ve recently finished writing a kids’ novel, and during the process of coming up with the ‘elevator pitch’ (the blurb to convince the literary agent in less than 20 words) I’ve learned various things, the most important of which is that if you don’t have a simple story line with characters who have punchy kid-like features, you can’t write the pitch….and therefore your book probably sucks, or won’t sell.

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The LaLiga show….so far

Phil reviews what’s happened so far, with special focus on Real Sociedad

The international break is always a good time to take stock. You take off your mask, breathe in breathe out, then decide whether, nine games in, you’re up and running again with the current season and the state of your nation. Maybe this season there’s little choice, confined to barracks as we are, slowly getting used to turning off the pop-up ads on the footy-streaming site and assimilating the fact that Rakel, 22, whose arse has just appeared in the far north-eastern corner of your screen, does not actually live around the corner. It’s all part of the new reality of bums, buffering and empty terraces. Bring it on.

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It’s getting messy

I’ve been asked to write about Messy-gate but it seems to me that the situation hardly requires a profound analysis. But maybe that’s the point, because the behaviour of the Barcelona president and his diminishing band of acolytes is so bizarre that one can only rub one’s stubble in wonder.  Is there any sense whatsoever in their ‘policy’, if such it can be labelled? Now the league’s got involved and sided with Barça.  Conclusion?  Read on. Continue reading “It’s getting messy”

A rough night in Lisbon

After events such as Lisbon, one can always count on Shakespeare.  Macbeth, sitting down in the morning for coffee and porridge after murdering the king in the night and having had a bit of verbal with the missus, is asked by fellow party-goer Lennox if he’s had a decent night’s sleep.  ‘Twas a rough night’ replies Macca, deadpan.  This is often used to teach the concept of dramatic irony to GCSE students in England, but if Shakespeare were alive today you’d probably prefer to just ask him – ‘You were taking the piss, right?’ Continue reading “A rough night in Lisbon”

It’s The Balls! 2019-20 LaLiga round-up.

 

Never mind the bullocks – it’s The Balls

Yes – it’s that time, albeit rather late this year.  The annual look-back on Spanish football antics normally takes place just as the new-born lambs have stopped their gambolling and the strawberries are beginning to look like mush.  It’s been a weird season, and you may well be asking yourself whether I’m referring to Real Madrid winning the title, Deportivo dropping to Segunda ‘B’ or the irruption onto the scene of a pandemic.  Perhaps all three. Continue reading “It’s The Balls! 2019-20 LaLiga round-up.”

Four Seasons in One day

Four seasons in one day, rub-a dub-dub and it’s helter-skelter through what remains of our fragile sanity at the fag-end of the league campaign. Never fear, there’ll be a hammock and rest for us somewhere, in the close season at the end of the universe.  I was happy that football was back, and now I can’t escape it.

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