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The Beauty AND The Beast

Barcelona 3  Real Madrid 2;   Greg Biffle vs. Boris Said at The Glen on PPV

As I type this little dispatch from my townhouse overlooking Grundahl Park, the entire Spanish La Liga is out on strike. No Football for Spain. They’ll have to watch the National Football League! So, for now, the ugliness, the beast if you will, in the beautiful game has been kicked to the sidelines along with the beauty, and caged, perhaps by it’s own petulance. We are spared the thrills of the beautiful game that the two leading proponents of it have turned into a beastly, but entertaining display. The Supercopa tilt between Barca and Real Madrid was everything you could ask for, but also a whole lot less than what one deserved. Beauty and the Beast rolled into one, but with too much Beast….I mean, this not supposed to be Leeds United vs Millwall ya know. Messi behaved like a little girl at times (before or after he scored the winning goal matters naught). Jose Mourinho was a prize #12 jackass ((a real SPECIAL ONE he’s become, an so?)). 3 Red Cards and 9 Yellows were handed out. Marcelo, as if to say “Welcome back to Spain, Pretty Boy…” received one of those for a dangerous and unnecessary foul on Cesc Fabregas. And I’m quite sure that during the melee that someone told someone “I’ll shit in your whore mother’s milk.” The only one to seemingly emerge somewhat above the fray in this is Barca’s gaffer Pep Guardiola.

So for now, Spanish Football is on strike.  Probably just as well so the dust can settle on this.

Last Monday, the rain-delayed Heluva Good Sour Creme Dips at the Glen played out in all it’s feral glory. The Glen seems to have become what Bristol used to be before NASCA switched to the Car Of Tomorrow, a brutal slugfest…a short track with RIGHT turns as well left ones. Marcus Ambrose pounded his way to his first NASCAR Sprint Cup victory ((although his crew chief congratulated him over the radio for his first NASCAR Nextel Cup victory…heh)). But the excitement wasn’t over….behind Ambrose all hell broke loose as David Ragan slid in front of Boris Said and slammed into David Ruetemann sending both cars flying. It was a spectacular wreck and fortunately neither of the Davids were seriously hurt. But WAIT!! The excitement was STILL not over with!! After the race was over, and the wreck was being cleaned up, Boris Said was fixin’ to make good on his earlier assertion that after the race he was going to pay Greg Biffle and little visit to slug some sense into him, or knock some out of him, or both. Or as Boris put it, “If had gotten to him after the race I’d have beat his ass!”

So there was the greatly-coiffed one, out of his car, fixin to get his helmet off and THROW with the bug-eyed goof. Biffle, of course, has enough sense to scurry away like a girl while his larger and more powerful crew kept Boris Said at bay. But Said was not through. His post-race rant was a classic. He seriously was going to go to Biffle’s house and give him a freakin’ whooping if someone would text him Biffle’s address. And yes, some people DID text Biffle’s address to Boris. And he WAS fixin’ to go there and give Biff a black eye.

And if not for a phone call from the Biff himself, the Biff would INDEED be sitting on the pole for tomorrow’s Pure Michigan 400 at Michigan International Speedway looking very much like a bug-eyed racoon. I wonder how THAT phone call went….



  “M…m….mi…..mi….Mister S…Said…….?  P…ppp…puh….PLEASE don’t come to my house?!  L….le….let’s talk……”


It was a scintillating conversation to be sure. And without giving Biff a freakin’ whooping, Boris Said got his point across and now all is well. They’re not buddies from hell, but at least the Biff has a better understanding of reality. Perhaps they can now get together and bring an equal sense of affability and understanding to the Spanish Football Strike.

” I thought those guys were paid more that we were,” Biff said.

“Some of them are,” Said said. “But most are not….and the reason they went on strike is that many of them are NOT being paid what they’re owed.”

“I’d hate it not to get MY check after a race…!”

“Some of those guys, Biff, haven’t been paid in over 6 months.”

“Not paid in 6 months?? If I hadn’t been paid in 6 months I’d have punched Jack Roush in the mouth by now, or knocked his hat off.”

“No you wouldn’t have,” Said chuckled.

“Geez….do you have to bring THAT up again?”

“Heh heh…….remember…we’re lovers now, not fighters.”

“But that Lionel Messi guy gets paid, right?”

“Yeh….Barcelona is in good shape…they pay their guys….but a lot of other teams are in big financial trouble.”

“That Christiano Ronaldo….isn’t he the guy that kisses himself in the mirror…

“Alex Rodriguez, the baseball guy does that, not Ronaldo…..well maybe Ronaldo does too…”

“Like some of our competitors who’ll remain nameless….”

“Ha ha ha….”

“Ronaldo gets paid on timet though?”

“He’s with Real Madrid…..they pay their guys…they’re in the best shape of any of the teams”

“REAL Madrid……Why do they call it Real?? Is there a Make-Believe Madrid?”

“You bug-eyed goof….”

“Heh heh….”

“You’re lucky don’t play for Real Zaragoza…..they owe money to EVERYBODY almost.”

“Do do they owe ME money?”

“I didn’t see you on the list.  And no…I’m not on it either.”

“Jack Roush on the list?”


“Real Zaragoza, huh?? Maybe THEY should change their name to Make-Believe Zaragoza.”

“Ha ha ha….”



Beauty versus Beast:  Norwich v Stoke  7:30 AM CDT  Sundau August 14 2011  Carrow Road   NR1 1JE Norwich UK


Meanwhile over at the Childress Racing stable, the lads are taking their minds off the impending free agency of Clint Bowyer by having a little chat about the beautiful game. The real Beauty v Beast challenge is Sunday when Stoke City (the Beast) makes a trek to Carrow to play my Norwich City Canaries (The Beauty). They’ve sent Bowyer off to get prawn sandwiches. Let’s listen in:


“That match could turn out like what Biffle and Said should have/could have turned out like,” Harvick said, with a little evil grin.

“Now Kevin….let’s not bring that up…” Burton chuckled. “After all…”

“They’re BOTH pretty ugly, ” Paul Menard chimed in.

Laughs all around.”

“Stoke plays tough, hard-nosed football….they play football like they’re racing on a dirt-track or something….or like Kyle Busch racing at Slinger…”

“Like Kyle Busch racing anywhere.” Paul Menard doffed his cap and then stroked his little David Villa beard.

“You guys….” Burton shook his head. “But you’re right…..Stoke real plays ugly football. They do pretty much kick the long ball and play tough physical defense….now don’t get wrong guys, a tough defense is fine..but they go a little overboard with it. This isn’t rugby or the NFL. But like them or not, you do have to respect them. Now Norwich City on the other hand is almost the opposite of Stoke in that they play beautiful, ball-control football. They pass the ball, and control the pace with their precision….like their theme song….they’re on the ball.”

“I noticed that when they played Wigan last Saturday….Hoolihan, Holt, Surman, Fox….all those guys are sharp and crisp. And Jeff, they can play tough….but not ugly.”

“I’m wondering though,” Paul said, “If their beauty will prevail…..”

“Prevail?? Maybe we should have sent YOU for the prawn sandwiches.” Harvick said as he playfully punched him on the shoulder.

“Guys,” Jeff said, “it will be tough road for Norwich this season. The Premier League is a big step up….almost a bigger step up than it is from Nationwide to Cup. You, Paul, especially know what I mean. Sometimes it takes a few year to get the hang of it, to click…but unfortunately for Norwich, they don’t have that kind of time. They have this season, and if they don’t click, they’re going back down to Championship.”

“That toughness of theirs will help them, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” Burton knodded. “It their best chance…their only chance. Stay mentally tough and stay on the ball.”

“Hmmmmm….”  Paul Menard seemed to be staring off into space, of beyond the garage….of into the Irish Hills of Michigan.

“You’ve got a scary look in your eyes, Paul….” Jeff said.

“I’ve been thinking about something….”

“That’s even scarier.”

“Now Kevin….”

“I’ve been thinking about how we race….  You know?  WE should race like that, like Norwich City plays football….beautiful, crisp, on the ball….. I was picturing us out there on the track tomorrow, all 4 of us, racing like that. A beautiful race….a beautiful game….”

Jeff Burton and Kevin Harvick joined Paul Menard in his reverie. They could picture their every move as time seemed to slow down….every opening on the track, every pass, precise, crisp was a thing of beauty. The finish line, the goal, the checkered flag, Victory Lane….they were on the ball, on the wheel, on the gas, and winning with perfect beauty. It was a happy reverie. And quite a sight for Clint Bowyer to behold as he entered the garage.

“Hey y’all…..” he said, “I brought the prawn sandwiches!



Chelsea 2     West Bromwich Albion 1

A win is a win. That’s about all I’ll say about this match. It’s probably just as well that my favourite pirate TV site didn’t have a feed up on this one because I would have probably gone and shit in someone’s whore mother’s milk and gotten enough red cards to make a ribbon just nice and big and pretty and Hime-chan’s. The only good than can be taken from today’s match is that it was a win and counts a 3 points in the standings. Chelsea play like utter shite, and everyone of them, even Anelka and Malouda who scored should hang their heads in shame. Alex especially played like a turd on the backline, and he actually dropped his drawers and dumped a crouton right their on the pitch as The Baggies striker Shane Long happily chunked it home 4 minutes in past Hilario who was filling in for the injured Petr Cech. Andre Villas-Boas has work cut out for him with these lads. If AVB could have made 11 substitutions at half-time, I’m sure he would have. And I think the next week and half will see some big changes. He’s had 2 real matches so far to see who can do, who can’t do, and who won’t do. And this week will a bit unpleasant for some of the lads in Blue despite the win.

I’m harder on Chelsea because their my favourite team. And when they play like they did today (lacking the mental toughness that Norwich City always brings to their games), it really frustrates me. If I had been at Stamford Bridge today, I would have been booing them off the pitch at half-time along with rest of true Blue fans.

But enough of the critique for now. It’s a win, it’s in the books, and tomorrow my Canaries host their first Premier League match of the season at Carrow Road. I hope my pirate television has a feed. Also, Liverpool whipped up on Arsenal this morning 2-0. And that’s ALWAYS a good thing. Meanwhile, I’m going to lay back, and enjoy the beauty of the game, not the beasts. I’m also going to pop open another GRAIN BELT Nordeast. And so should you.

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