"Will Doctor Jack Krevorkian please report to Goodison Park. Jack Krevorkian, Please report to Goodison Park"
Rovers, Home 21-1-2012
Version:1.0 Start
Everybody in this world is different, and everybody who commits suicide does so for varying reasons. Perhaps someone has disgraced their family, or worse, themselves. Maybe a person with a great lifestyle, gained by illegal means, has been caught and realizes they are about to spend the rest of their life in prison. Sometimes a physical ailment, or a mental disability can push one over the edge...so to speak. Or maybe it is late January and you only need a win to get within twenty-five points of Manchester City, and your goalkeeper has more goals than your top-two goal scorers over the last three months.
Blackburn limped into Goodison Park today with a slew of other reasons to end it all. The Captains of the two teams met at midfield and compared notes, and then the match kicked off. Within two minutes, Donavon played a nice ball through to Victor, and he frabbled the ball over the vulnerable Blackburn net. Blackburn upped the ante when Hoilett jetted past the midfield, jinked the ball past every Everton player, past and present, before passing in front of goal. Some Rover got a boot on it, but so did Tim howard, sending the ball off to Safety Land.
Steven Dunn is like a gigantic turd that shows up to your front door with a lotto power ball, wondering if it can cash it in at your house. You try to slam the door but the scrodie crap-hulk starts spewing balls at your door, rocking it to its core until you can finally slam it shut. Once Tim Howard finally secured the area against this rowdy scruff, Everton caught hold of the match. In the 25th minute a mild goal scramble in the Blackburn box saw Fellaini hit by the ball. The ball bounced off the Turk's chest, glancing off his arm on its way to the path of Tim Cahill. Cahill dutifully kicked at the ball and turned upfield for the goal kick. However, the ball went into the net and the game was stopped while the corner flag was brought to Cahill for a ceremonial blattering. The ball was taken to the Everton bench for safe keeping and there was a minute's applause as everybody celebrated Cahill's Everton career. There was a further delay as the public address announcer said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, Everton goal...†and he fumbled his way through a program until he found number seventeen and finished the sentence. It was interesting that the TV cameras caught Saha saying, “Great. Just ****ing great. Next they're going to want me to that.â€
With Cahill uncorked, Goodison began to heat up, and the Americans got busy. Tim Howard lobbed a deep pass with lethal accuracy for Landon Donavon, who misplayed it. Fortunately, the ref blew for pass interference, but Baines's field goal attempt flew wide. The good news was that Cahill had his confidence back, and was now rampant, his frequent misses showcasing his renewed intent.
Halftime
The second half kicked off with rain falling from the sky, wind swirling around the park, and Cahill still excited and asking everybody if they saw that goal. Saha, for his part, had to be taken off the pitch when his Sleep Apnea flared up again. Drench was brought on onto the pitch by his handlers, who controlled him with some difficulty before finally releasing him and fleeing back to the touchline. Drenthe snorted, pawed at the pitch and raced around exposing every weakness Rovers possessed. Unfortunately, the Everton players, horrified by this display of aggression hid behind brave Captain Phil Neville, who calmed them with the words, “I've pissed me kecks.â€
When Drenthe finally wore himself out, Blackburn returned from the dressing room and the ref welcomed them back with a free kick in decent territory. The ball sailed toward Howard, who came out to embrace it like a lost love, but then the Tourrette's kicked in and he punched the ball, barely connecting. The ball limped to a Blackburn player who kicked it at the open net. Tim Cahill saved, and then cleared the ball off the line straight into Goodwillies stomach. The ball barely had time to salute Cahill as it bounced back inside the net for the equalizer. As for myself, I grabbed a pen and wrote a note: “football's a funny old game, innit?†The rest of this match was a blur of worthless subs and wasted kicks and ruthless boos. I shut off the TV, pinned the note to my shirt and went looking for rope.
http://www.squidoo.com/Sportsbar?showme
http://www.schoolofscience.eu
Rovers, Home 21-1-2012
Version:1.0 Start
Everybody in this world is different, and everybody who commits suicide does so for varying reasons. Perhaps someone has disgraced their family, or worse, themselves. Maybe a person with a great lifestyle, gained by illegal means, has been caught and realizes they are about to spend the rest of their life in prison. Sometimes a physical ailment, or a mental disability can push one over the edge...so to speak. Or maybe it is late January and you only need a win to get within twenty-five points of Manchester City, and your goalkeeper has more goals than your top-two goal scorers over the last three months.
Blackburn limped into Goodison Park today with a slew of other reasons to end it all. The Captains of the two teams met at midfield and compared notes, and then the match kicked off. Within two minutes, Donavon played a nice ball through to Victor, and he frabbled the ball over the vulnerable Blackburn net. Blackburn upped the ante when Hoilett jetted past the midfield, jinked the ball past every Everton player, past and present, before passing in front of goal. Some Rover got a boot on it, but so did Tim howard, sending the ball off to Safety Land.
Steven Dunn is like a gigantic turd that shows up to your front door with a lotto power ball, wondering if it can cash it in at your house. You try to slam the door but the scrodie crap-hulk starts spewing balls at your door, rocking it to its core until you can finally slam it shut. Once Tim Howard finally secured the area against this rowdy scruff, Everton caught hold of the match. In the 25th minute a mild goal scramble in the Blackburn box saw Fellaini hit by the ball. The ball bounced off the Turk's chest, glancing off his arm on its way to the path of Tim Cahill. Cahill dutifully kicked at the ball and turned upfield for the goal kick. However, the ball went into the net and the game was stopped while the corner flag was brought to Cahill for a ceremonial blattering. The ball was taken to the Everton bench for safe keeping and there was a minute's applause as everybody celebrated Cahill's Everton career. There was a further delay as the public address announcer said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, Everton goal...†and he fumbled his way through a program until he found number seventeen and finished the sentence. It was interesting that the TV cameras caught Saha saying, “Great. Just ****ing great. Next they're going to want me to that.â€
With Cahill uncorked, Goodison began to heat up, and the Americans got busy. Tim Howard lobbed a deep pass with lethal accuracy for Landon Donavon, who misplayed it. Fortunately, the ref blew for pass interference, but Baines's field goal attempt flew wide. The good news was that Cahill had his confidence back, and was now rampant, his frequent misses showcasing his renewed intent.
Halftime
The second half kicked off with rain falling from the sky, wind swirling around the park, and Cahill still excited and asking everybody if they saw that goal. Saha, for his part, had to be taken off the pitch when his Sleep Apnea flared up again. Drench was brought on onto the pitch by his handlers, who controlled him with some difficulty before finally releasing him and fleeing back to the touchline. Drenthe snorted, pawed at the pitch and raced around exposing every weakness Rovers possessed. Unfortunately, the Everton players, horrified by this display of aggression hid behind brave Captain Phil Neville, who calmed them with the words, “I've pissed me kecks.â€
When Drenthe finally wore himself out, Blackburn returned from the dressing room and the ref welcomed them back with a free kick in decent territory. The ball sailed toward Howard, who came out to embrace it like a lost love, but then the Tourrette's kicked in and he punched the ball, barely connecting. The ball limped to a Blackburn player who kicked it at the open net. Tim Cahill saved, and then cleared the ball off the line straight into Goodwillies stomach. The ball barely had time to salute Cahill as it bounced back inside the net for the equalizer. As for myself, I grabbed a pen and wrote a note: “football's a funny old game, innit?†The rest of this match was a blur of worthless subs and wasted kicks and ruthless boos. I shut off the TV, pinned the note to my shirt and went looking for rope.
http://www.squidoo.com/Sportsbar?showme
http://www.schoolofscience.eu
