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Bale Madrid... it's Real!
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Shit happens
Let them eat cake!!!
Yes, but his hair, his hair is shit. At least someone like Eriksen manages to keep his hair in shape.
Maybe Bale is still an unlucky charm, Saints were behind Pompey when he was there, We were behind Woolwich when he was here and Madrid will be behind Barca when he goes there. Therefore, this is the year lads!!!!
The Bale hoodoo lives on.
A page on Facebook asked: "What is your best memory of being a football fan?" I replied with this:
1st September 2013. It’s Woolwich 2-2 Tottenham, as the game heads towards stoppage time. Play has been stopped with Roberto Soldado winning a free-kick after being crashed into by the ever-growing angrier Jack Wilshere. André Villas-Boas signals towards the bench, from which a shadowy figure emerges. The 4th official holds aloft the substitution board. The number 21 of Nacer Chadli is lit up in red on the board, before being replaced by the green number 11 of the man to replace the Belgian. Chadli jogs off the pitch, giving a hug to the man who holds the hopes of millions of Spurs fans everywhere.
After placing the ball 30 yards from goal, Gylfi Sigurðsson moves aside as Gareth Bale steps up. The Welshman takes five steps backward, before taking a decisive look at the trembling figure of Wojciech Szczesny in the Woolwich goal. The referee’s whistle cuts through the noise of the anxious crowd, silence falling as Bale strides towards destiny. A swing of the left boot. A rustle as the ball strikes the back of the net, before nestling behind Szczesny’s frozen, disbelieving figure. Then a small section of the arena, holding thousands of men, women and children in Lilywhite shirts, erupts. Arms held high, mouth wide, Tottenham’s saviour glides towards the packed away end, his teammates chasing him in a frenzy of victorious fists and leaps of joy. Bale proudly stands in front of his adoring fans and lifts his number 11 shirt to reveal an undershirt with the words: “Born to play for Spurs” crudely scribbled on with a permanent marker.
Meanwhile, Villas-Boas has run off down the tunnel in crazed celebration, whilst his assistant, Steffen Freund, has pinned Arsène Wenger to the floor, rubbing his crotch up and down the old Frenchman’s wrinkled face. Stewards watch on in disbelief, unknowing in how to act to this bizarre situation. As the mad celebrations continue on and off the pitch, across North London, Britain and the world, one man stands in an executive box of the Emirates Stadium. The warm light of the sun catches the man’s bald head. Daniel Levy slips the thin frame of his glasses over his ears. The corner of his mouth subtly curls into the hint of a smile. He turns without taking a glance at the stone-faced representatives of the losing side, before disappearing into the depths of the arena…
After placing the ball 30 yards from goal, Gylfi Sigurðsson moves aside as Gareth Bale steps up. The Welshman takes five steps backward, before taking a decisive look at the trembling figure of Wojciech Szczesny in the Woolwich goal. The referee’s whistle cuts through the noise of the anxious crowd, silence falling as Bale strides towards destiny. A swing of the left boot. A rustle as the ball strikes the back of the net, before nestling behind Szczesny’s frozen, disbelieving figure. Then a small section of the arena, holding thousands of men, women and children in Lilywhite shirts, erupts. Arms held high, mouth wide, Tottenham’s saviour glides towards the packed away end, his teammates chasing him in a frenzy of victorious fists and leaps of joy. Bale proudly stands in front of his adoring fans and lifts his number 11 shirt to reveal an undershirt with the words: “Born to play for Spurs” crudely scribbled on with a permanent marker.
Meanwhile, Villas-Boas has run off down the tunnel in crazed celebration, whilst his assistant, Steffen Freund, has pinned Arsène Wenger to the floor, rubbing his crotch up and down the old Frenchman’s wrinkled face. Stewards watch on in disbelief, unknowing in how to act to this bizarre situation. As the mad celebrations continue on and off the pitch, across North London, Britain and the world, one man stands in an executive box of the Emirates Stadium. The warm light of the sun catches the man’s bald head. Daniel Levy slips the thin frame of his glasses over his ears. The corner of his mouth subtly curls into the hint of a smile. He turns without taking a glance at the stone-faced representatives of the losing side, before disappearing into the depths of the arena…
…and then I woke up…
A page on Facebook asked: "What is your best memory of being a football fan?" I replied with this:
1st September 2013. It’s Woolwich 2-2 Tottenham, as the game heads towards stoppage time. Play has been stopped with Roberto Soldado winning a free-kick after being crashed into by the ever-growing angrier Jack Wilshere. André Villas-Boas signals towards the bench, from which a shadowy figure emerges. The 4th official holds aloft the substitution board. The number 21 of Nacer Chadli is lit up in red on the board, before being replaced by the green number 11 of the man to replace the Belgian. Chadli jogs off the pitch, giving a hug to the man who holds the hopes of millions of Spurs fans everywhere.
After placing the ball 30 yards from goal, Gylfi Sigurðsson moves aside as Gareth Bale steps up. The Welshman takes five steps backward, before taking a decisive look at the trembling figure of Wojciech Szczesny in the Woolwich goal. The referee’s whistle cuts through the noise of the anxious crowd, silence falling as Bale strides towards destiny. A swing of the left boot. A rustle as the ball strikes the back of the net, before nestling behind Szczesny’s frozen, disbelieving figure. Then a small section of the arena, holding thousands of men, women and children in Lilywhite shirts, erupts. Arms held high, mouth wide, Tottenham’s saviour glides towards the packed away end, his teammates chasing him in a frenzy of victorious fists and leaps of joy. Bale proudly stands in front of his adoring fans and lifts his number 11 shirt to reveal an undershirt with the words: “Born to play for Spurs” crudely scribbled on with a permanent marker.
Meanwhile, Villas-Boas has run off down the tunnel in crazed celebration, whilst his assistant, Steffen Freund, has pinned Arsène Wenger to the floor, rubbing his crotch up and down the old Frenchman’s wrinkled face. Stewards watch on in disbelief, unknowing in how to act to this bizarre situation. As the mad celebrations continue on and off the pitch, across North London, Britain and the world, one man stands in an executive box of the Emirates Stadium. The warm light of the sun catches the man’s bald head. Daniel Levy slips the thin frame of his glasses over his ears. The corner of his mouth subtly curls into the hint of a smile. He turns without taking a glance at the stone-faced representatives of the losing side, before disappearing into the depths of the arena…
…and then I woke up…
I almost climaxed there. Almost.
"Forever in our shadow/wank fantasy"Almost isn't good enough!
Don't know if it makes sense, but it just sounded funny in my head.
Fuck me, I spend a day working and Bale is gone and so is Willian?
Fucking depressing. I'm gonna cut my bollocks off, find the nearest pub, order a pint of whisky and use them as ice cubes. Thereafter I will retreat to a Soho public toilet, sit on the used shit rags and broken seat, and cry mercilessly until the sun comes up.
Why Gareth? Whhhhhyyyyyyyy??????????????
:gomes:
:bale2:
Fucking depressing. I'm gonna cut my bollocks off, find the nearest pub, order a pint of whisky and use them as ice cubes. Thereafter I will retreat to a Soho public toilet, sit on the used shit rags and broken seat, and cry mercilessly until the sun comes up.
Why Gareth? Whhhhhyyyyyyyy??????????????
:gomes::bale2:
Fuck me, I spend a day working and Bale is gone and so is Willian?
Fucking depressing. I'm gonna cut my bollocks off, find the nearest pub, order a pint of whisky and use them as ice cubes. Thereafter I will retreat to a Soho public toilet, sit on the used shit rags and broken seat, and cry mercilessly until the sun comes up.
Why Gareth? Whhhhhyyyyyyyy??????????????
Why the fuck would you do any of the above? :gylfi:
The whiff of a good floater soothes me.
setting up a presentation stage at madrid, and it was live on SSN......
