I was tagged, in a general way, by Tiffany. Here goes:
8 Favorite TV Shows:
8 Things I did yesterday:
8 Things I look forward to:
8 Favorite Restaurants:
8 Things on my wish list:
Am I supposed to tag someone? Well, I'll tag whoever hasn't done this list, yet.
Saturday, 13 December 2008
Tagged: 8 Things
Friday, 31 October 2008
What I wouldn't do for this man...
Entering the current English Premier League season, Rafa Benítez was working on a few unwanted streaks in the EPL. In his previous four seasons as manager of my beloved Liverpool Football Club, Rafa's teams hadn't a) beaten Manchester United, b) beaten a Steve Bruce-managed team, or c) scored at Stamford Bridge against Chelsea (and naturally, hadn't won any of those matches). Nothing suggested that Liverpool would end any of those streaks this season either.
Let's recap the events of the season so far:
a) 13 September 2008: I was making my way back down the Nilgiri hills from Ooty. Meanwhile at Anfield, Liverpool beat Manchester United 2-1.
b) 18 October 2008: I was taking a rather sombre and melancholy walk around Koregaon Park neighbourhood in Pune, trying to sort out a few things in my head. Meanwhile at Anfield, Dirk Kuyt scored a last-gasp winner as Liverpool beat Steve Bruce's Wigan 3-2.
c) 26 October 2008: I was enjoying the hospitality of an old family friend in Goa, feasting on his wife's delicious Goan prawn curry and chicken shakoothi. Meanwhile at Stamford Bridge, Liverpool ended Chelsea's 86-game home unbeaten streak, 1-0.
Sense a pattern? I'm out of town, Liverpool end a dubious streak. And of course I take all the credit. However, if Rafa expects me to head out of town everytime Liverpool have a tough match...I'll, um, think about it.
This is true love - you think this happens every day?
;-)
Saturday, 6 September 2008
Thanks, Shanks
When I was almost five years old, my family and I moved to Birkenhead in Merseyside, just across the River Mersey from Liverpool. I suppose that was around the time that I started to recognise that there was a world outside my family and friends, and most of my earliest memories of childhood are from that period.
One of the first things I recognised was football (no, it's not "sah-ker", it's football - you use your foot to kick a ball; socks play no more part in the game than any other), and living on Merseyside, I had two choices of teams to support: the blue of Everton or the red of Liverpool. (Technically speaking, living in Birkenhead, I also had the white of Tranmere Rovers, but let's not be silly -- the Lilywhites never had a chance as they are historically rubbish.)
I chose Liverpool. It wasn't too difficult a choice. They were the new European Cup winners, their star player, Kevin Keegan, was a ubiquitous pitchman for all sorts of products, and Liverpool players littered England's national squad (never mind that the national squad was pretty pathetic back then, even by today's low standards).
The first 14 years of my relationship with Liverpool Football Club were beautiful, with League, FA Cup, League Cup and European titles galore, the deeply ugly scars of Heysel and Hillsborough notwithstanding. Life hasn't been quite as rosy since then, but days like Istanbul 2005 and Cardiff 2006 have provided plenty of smiles.
This is a long and enduring relationship. I've never been tempted to end it, even during the dark days of Graeme Souness's tenure as manager. They would have to do something quite despicable for me to ever turn on them. Having said that, Liverpool (and sports in general, I hasten to add) don't mean as much to me now as they did as a little child. I'm more likely to kick a table leg when they mess up than throw myself on the bed crying (as I did when I was 6 years old).
I was inspired to write this post after reading an article I found last night on Liverpool's official website giving details of a book that has been recently published researching why LFC are the choice of so many British Asians, from back in the 1960s, even in areas closer to other major clubs.
The most common answer: legendary manager Bill Shankly. Shankly turned a club living on past memories in the 1950s to one that was feared and respected by all by the end of the 1960s, but he did so by creating a family atmosphere not just within the club, but with the fans as well. These things resonated with Asian immigrants, who have a traditionally strong sense of family. I've seen old television footage of fans being told in 1974 that Shankly unexpectedly had resigned as Liverpool manager: they could not have been more shocked if they'd been told a beloved family member had just died. They loved Shankly that much.
Shankly pre-dates my relationship with Liverpool, but we do share one common bond: Shankly's nickname was "Shanks". So was mine.
I chose Liverpool. It wasn't too difficult a choice. They were the new European Cup winners, their star player, Kevin Keegan, was a ubiquitous pitchman for all sorts of products, and Liverpool players littered England's national squad (never mind that the national squad was pretty pathetic back then, even by today's low standards).
The first 14 years of my relationship with Liverpool Football Club were beautiful, with League, FA Cup, League Cup and European titles galore, the deeply ugly scars of Heysel and Hillsborough notwithstanding. Life hasn't been quite as rosy since then, but days like Istanbul 2005 and Cardiff 2006 have provided plenty of smiles.
This is a long and enduring relationship. I've never been tempted to end it, even during the dark days of Graeme Souness's tenure as manager. They would have to do something quite despicable for me to ever turn on them. Having said that, Liverpool (and sports in general, I hasten to add) don't mean as much to me now as they did as a little child. I'm more likely to kick a table leg when they mess up than throw myself on the bed crying (as I did when I was 6 years old).
I was inspired to write this post after reading an article I found last night on Liverpool's official website giving details of a book that has been recently published researching why LFC are the choice of so many British Asians, from back in the 1960s, even in areas closer to other major clubs.
The most common answer: legendary manager Bill Shankly. Shankly turned a club living on past memories in the 1950s to one that was feared and respected by all by the end of the 1960s, but he did so by creating a family atmosphere not just within the club, but with the fans as well. These things resonated with Asian immigrants, who have a traditionally strong sense of family. I've seen old television footage of fans being told in 1974 that Shankly unexpectedly had resigned as Liverpool manager: they could not have been more shocked if they'd been told a beloved family member had just died. They loved Shankly that much.
Shankly pre-dates my relationship with Liverpool, but we do share one common bond: Shankly's nickname was "Shanks". So was mine.
Wednesday, 13 August 2008
Movement on the GPS
All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go...but I'm not leaving on a jet plane.
I'm off to Bangalore tonight with the singles and I will be back on Sunday morning. A good time is anticipated by all, even though the weather forecast for our destination is rain tomorrow and more the following day.
The only drawback is that I'm going to miss the start of Liverpool's Champions League campaign tonight as I'll be on the train to Bangalore, and the miss of their English Premier League (EPL) campaign as I'll be on the train from Bangalore. As they usually do better when I'm not watching as opposed to when I am cheering them on, I should be okay.
See you later.
I'm off to Bangalore tonight with the singles and I will be back on Sunday morning. A good time is anticipated by all, even though the weather forecast for our destination is rain tomorrow and more the following day.
The only drawback is that I'm going to miss the start of Liverpool's Champions League campaign tonight as I'll be on the train to Bangalore, and the miss of their English Premier League (EPL) campaign as I'll be on the train from Bangalore. As they usually do better when I'm not watching as opposed to when I am cheering them on, I should be okay.
See you later.
Monday, 30 June 2008
Olé!
Congratulations, Spain! Well deserved victory over the Germans in Euro 2008.
For the first time in my life, my pre-tournament favourites have gone on and actually won the tournament. (That's what happens when you support England every time. This time they didn't qualify for the Championships, and I was free to latch on to another team.)
Sunday, 29 June 2008
Old habits...
Woo-hoo! It's the final of Euro 2008 tonight. What an excellent tournament it's been. Such fantastic attacking play from every team -- even the Italians (at times).
And, of course, I am delighted that my team for the tournament, Spain, have made it to the final. I hope they beat the despised Germans...
Why?
Huh? Who are you?
Your conscience. Why do you hope Spain beat Germany?
Because Spanish striker Torres had such a great season for Liverpool last year.
So, if Torres wasn't playing, would you hope for the same result?
It's not just Torres. Pepe Reina, Alvarao Arbeloa and Xabi Alonso are on the subs' bench. And Liverpool manager Rafa Benitez is Spanish.
But take away those guys whom you've never met, will you still support Spain?
Um, yes.
How many Spanish friends do you have?
None.
How many Germans have personally gone above and beyond the call of duty to help you out when you were a stranger to them?
Er, over half-a-dozen.
How many Spanish products do you own?
None.
What's the only brand of pen you've paid money for in the past five years, and where is it made?
Staedtler. And it's made in Germany.
Where does the software that you use at your job originate?
Germany.
How many times have you flown on a Spanish airline?
None.
How do you fancy another flight on Lufthansa?
Ooh, can I? I love that airline.
So, with all that, how come you are rooting for Spain to beat Germany?
Because it's Germany, dang it! I grew up in England. I root for three teams: England, and whoever is playing Germany and/or France! And I have no idea what to do when Germany play France!
* * *
Such, dear readers, is the logical mind of a sports fan.
Viva, Espana! (At least for tonight.)
And, of course, I am delighted that my team for the tournament, Spain, have made it to the final. I hope they beat the despised Germans...
Why?
Huh? Who are you?
Your conscience. Why do you hope Spain beat Germany?
Because Spanish striker Torres had such a great season for Liverpool last year.
So, if Torres wasn't playing, would you hope for the same result?
It's not just Torres. Pepe Reina, Alvarao Arbeloa and Xabi Alonso are on the subs' bench. And Liverpool manager Rafa Benitez is Spanish.
But take away those guys whom you've never met, will you still support Spain?
Um, yes.
How many Spanish friends do you have?
None.
How many Germans have personally gone above and beyond the call of duty to help you out when you were a stranger to them?
Er, over half-a-dozen.
How many Spanish products do you own?
None.
What's the only brand of pen you've paid money for in the past five years, and where is it made?
Staedtler. And it's made in Germany.
Where does the software that you use at your job originate?
Germany.
How many times have you flown on a Spanish airline?
None.
How do you fancy another flight on Lufthansa?
Ooh, can I? I love that airline.
So, with all that, how come you are rooting for Spain to beat Germany?
Because it's Germany, dang it! I grew up in England. I root for three teams: England, and whoever is playing Germany and/or France! And I have no idea what to do when Germany play France!
* * *
Such, dear readers, is the logical mind of a sports fan.
Viva, Espana! (At least for tonight.)
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