Pride Before A Fall

In a frightening response to my lovely Chelsea hubris, reality disintegrated yesterday. A noise was heard last night that deafened those who were really listening. That noise was a gash appearing in the space-time continuum and an alternate universe broke through for as long as it took Middlesborough...... yes, Middlesborough.....to thrash Chelsea 3-0.

It was like watching a different team, as if the real Chelsea were being held hostage in their changing room and Bognor Regis Town stole their strip (and apologies to Bognor Regis Town supporters - if there really are any.)

Now while I accept that occasionally even the greatest teams have little upsets (witness Manure FC, LiverPoo, Arse-nal and Barcelona in the last couple of weeks - that's the beauty of football) and that it won't affect us lifting the title again this season, what really pissed me off was watching it in a pub that had just shown the LiverPoo game. A few straggling Scouser (and a lone Everton fan - but he was big & could take care of himself) fans had remained to watch the rugby and had taken the piss relentlessly. Upon my return from the bathroom, my end of the bar erupted into applause for me as Middlesborough had popped in their third in my absence. Bastards. Utter bastards.

England then went on to win their game against Italy in the 6 Nations battle that was anything but prosaic, with Italy leading at halftime.
Ireland came back from a first half drubbing by France (29-3) to knock the wind out of the French. Shocking errors gifted the ball to the French until almost midway through the second half when the Irish pulled themselves together and steamrolled through a very nervous French team. Unfortunately, in a gripping second half game, the men in green simply ran out of time to finish at 43-31.


It's a beautiful morning here in the Cedars and now all I have to do is face the traffic on my way back down to Beirut - never a pleasant prospect but necessary nonetheless.

Enjoy the rest of your weekend.