Snak

Man kan dog finde nogle af hans nyere kampreferater på hans hjemmeside her:

http://www.mr-agreeable.…ch-reports/

Her er en udgave af hans über Liverpool personlighed (formentlig copy-pastet fra Red and White Kop) efter deres FA Cup nederlag til Barnsley for nogle år tilbage:

An eerie paralysis has settled like a fog across the city of Liverpool this morning. Bicycles, upon which kids performed wheelies around shopping malls just yesterday lie abandoned today. No whistled melody plays on the lips of the milkman as he does his rounds. The lead on the church roof remains strangely unstolen, Jimmy Tarbuck and Tom O’ Connor, for once in their lives, have only completely unfunny observations to make. At TV rental shop windows, hushed folk gather around in the hope of updates on our manager, who surely faces a fight for his life over the next several days. At Anfield, fans form a long, patient queue, waiting to leave floral tributes at the point where the tragedy occurred, just 25 yards from the hallowed Kop End. One, spelled out in red and white roses, reads simply BARNSLEY?? This is a city united in grief, under the world spotlight, a city wondering to itself; did John Lennon of The Beatles die for this? George Harrison? Stuart Sutcliffe?

This is as a time for mourning, and for lessons to be learned from the dreadful events of what will be known as 16/2. And the first lesson that needs to be learned is by the friggin’ Barnsley players, in how to read. In case they didn’t notice, there’s a sign above your heads as you come out of the dressing room that reads THIS IS ANFIELD. It’s supposed to put the fear of Yosser Hughes into you. You don’t ignore that sign, you quail and genuflect. Then you go out and lie down as Liverpool Football Club walk tall, with passion and pride in their hearts and guts in their bellies, all over you.

It was quite obvious the way Barnsley played that they had completely the wrong attitude. No respect for their betters, or for the sacred turf they charged around on like kids misbehaving in church. How can you play like that, desecrating the memory of great players like Tommy Lawrence, Tommy Smith, Emlyn Hughes and Jimmy Carter with every last-ditch clearance, slide tackle and friggin’ 25 yard screamer? How can you do that in front of the Kop, where surging fans would sing Freddie & The Dreamers songs and piss in each other pockets? That was the community spirit we had back then  every man a toilet for his neighbour. There were no inside lavs back in the 60s, remember  when you need to go, you knocked on the door of feller in the next house along, he’d let you in, and you’d go in his overcoat pocket. And you’d do the same for him. Great days. Talk of the romance of the Cup rings sick and hollow this morning. To people who say that, I say  Myra Hindley and Ian Brady. Was that romantic? It was not. Neither was this. Cilla Black has quite literally been laid prostrate and defecated upon from a height of 30 metres once more and forced to crawl around eating the plop that didn’t land directly in her mouth. Cilla. Our Cilla. Well, I hope you’re happy.

But we are Liverpool. Over the next few days, the watching world will see an example of how a city copes with adversity, its citizens united, never walking alone, standing together, showing solidarity in their grief, except for the Everton scum, the city of Liverpool, together in unison as one.

There is a time for grieving but also a time for bitter recrimination. So, as of this morning, I am organising a city-wide boycott of all Barnsley products. Coal. Clogs. Michael Parkinson autobiographies. Barnsley shall feel the wrath of the people of Liverpool where it hurts. I’m also organising a Barnsley Appeal Fund. I’m hoping Marji Clark will agree to sing a few songs at a big show I’m planning, maybe get Paul McCartney to write one of them oratorios of his, in honour and memory of the Heroes who Fell At the Fifth, or reunite the cast of Bread to record a rousing version of You’ll Never Walk Alone. ‘Cos, you see, I’ve realised, if there’s one thing we can learn from the tragedy that was 16/2, it’s that we, Liverpool Football Club, need to buy more players. Stevie, Jamie, Stevie, they’re great la’s but they can’t do it all by themselves. Maybe, in future, a tragedy like this could be averted if we threw more money at a bunch of players who turned out to be un-useless and totally succeeded in gelling. That, and appoint Ricky Tomlinson as team manager. Passion! Heart! . . .

Hehe.

Så er den bestilt.

Det er virkelig godt, det dér.

Det var i øvrigt ikke fordi jeg ikke vil være hjælpsom her, men i betragtning af, at han har lagt sine kampreferater ud til gratis brug i en fem-seks år, synes jeg det er fantastisk støtteværdigt at hjælpe bogsalget en smule. Hans referater udgør en fin bonus ved Englands landskampe. Også i en grad, så jeg er usikker på, at the Wing Commander ville kunne holde til det, hvis England rent faktisk blev i stand til at sætte tre afleveringer sammen på et tidspunkt.

Af fodboldbøger kan "the glory game" af Hunter Davies anbefales; han fulgte Tottenham hele sæsonen 71-72, hvor han var med i onklædningsrum, direktionslokaler osv. hvilket giver et helt unikt indblik i livet i en engelsk storklub i 1970´erne.
http://www.timesonline.c…1953477.ece

Den er vistnok oversat til dansk, med den ubehjælpelige titel "Kong fodbold".

The Glory Game er obligatorisk læsning.

Jeg læste den, da jeg var barn og burde måske låne den igen.

Lige nu læser jeg "Fra den fagre nye verden" af Günter Wallraff. Den er fannerme god.

Senest læste jeg Ian Rankins "Mellem venner". Den er meget anderledes end Rebus-serien, men udmærket alligevel.

Så kommer der en ny Faletti;

http://www.saxo.com/dk/i…bundet.aspx


Jeg er gud hedder den, må håbe den holder "jeg dræber" standard. Synes "Øjet de ser" var langt under nivauet for "jeg dræber".

Tak for tippet. Der er al mulig grund til at glæde sig.

Jeg deler naturligvis fuldstændigt vurderingen af de to foregående bøger.

Er der mon nogen, der har læst Sissel-Jo Gazans "Dinosaurens fjer"?

På opfordring vil jeg anbefale at alle læser denne bog:

Doppler af Erlend Loe.

Den er hurtigt læst, og vil med garanti give dig smil på læben eller mere (med undtagelse af Rune)

Den er velskrevet, og er bidende ond, kritisk og virkelig morsom.