#still its a sad day for european football :<< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[elpuppies]

okayyy that messi interview made me shed a tear

[marbleyo]

“so you can drag me through hell if it meant i could hold your hand”

on the 15th of november, i got confirmed officially as a staff of my new company and im heartened to have received this opportunity once again. out of mischief, i decided to pull a prank on my team (more on this part later) and felt guilty about it after because i made her cry :( on the 20th of november, the world cup started and it is shaping up to be one of my favourite world cup because of its many underdog stories. we are seeing asian and african team beating top european nations at a world cup which shows the closing of gaps in football quality between superstars and unknowns. we are down to the last 8 at this time of writing and i still stick by my pick that a south american team would win the world cup (either argentina or brazil). i went back to my former workplace on the 22nd of november for its annual x’mas light up celebrations and was happy to re-connect with my former colleagues. i left on a quiet note so naturally many would have wondered where did i went. eventually, a lot of them knew through word of mouth, so it was a sincere gesture on my part to go up to them and have a nice chat. i did not expect the amount of people asking me if i’m back to work at my hospital hahahaha and i’m very happy to hear that because it means i’ve certainly made a huge positive impact back then.

okay so about the girl heheh.

the prank which i pulled left my two colleagues in tears, one of which is the girl. i had planned out a prank just purely out of fun seeing how they would react to it and i feel a little bad to say it was executed perfectly. i had a private conversation with my team after a meeting and with the best of my acting abilities, i succeeded in telling them i wasn’t confirmed as a staff due to disciplinary reasons. and i guess with the stresses that they’re dealing with, the prank broke them into tears. i felt so so bad as i never would have expected such an emotional reaction.  especially seeing her cry, i blamed myself for making her cry so unnecessarily. JR was disappointed when i told her about it.  i treated them to lunch the week after and i talked about it with her. she laughed about it and has since forgiven me.  god, i never want to make her cry out of sadness again. 

okay, on to happier stuffs.

on the 24th of november, i was invited at the last minute for dinner with a service partner of my company. since i was new, i broke the ice with many different people. the conversation led to a point where i was asked on my romantic life and then she came into the conversation.  there’s a lot of teasing going on about me and her. on the outside, i might seem to be disinterested about it, but on the inside, i’m actually happy that they’re discussing if we could be a potential couple HAHAHAA. i contained my surprise and happiness. it was definitely assuring to hear many of them support finding a spouse at work (whether they meant it or not).

along the conversation they were teasing her and in her little dizzy state of confusion she said that we couldn’t be together because we’re in the same team. such words would have been hurtful to my feelings but somehow, i didn’t seem to be bothered by it, because i know that eventually i will end up with her. heh...wow look at your confidence greg!

and on the 5th of december, guess what? we wore the same colours and style to work! black shirt tucked in with khaki-coloured pants and white shoes! heheheh i guess you can call it fate! we were teased about it a little and my boss took a photo of us which very much happens to be our first photo together? HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA. it was enough to make me happy for the rest of the day. i couldn’t contained my happiness and told JR and CP about it! i promise i will marry this girl and have a family with her.

[bavarianmillionaire]

you are not bad at answering, i think our time zones are just a bit different from each other! :)

the iceland-players were also very popular here (i live in germany, btw 😌) - so popular that one of them participated in the german version of dancing with the stars & won lmao

and i wholeheartedly agree with your unpopular opinion! especially in europe the focus is only on european football, which is sad since (as this world cup) also proves that a european team does not mean its superior! japan beat germany, morocco is going strong, brazil & argentina are title favourites!! so i'm with you on that!

here is ur next question of the day:

which football player, in ur opinion, is underrated? can also be a "popular one" that you still think is underrated :)

with love,

secret santa 🎄

i think i heard about that an icelandic player going to a tv show in germany? that's bizarre 😭

the first player that comes to mind is definitely bambi. i think the world cup was good for him because, despite germany's performance, people saw how talented he really is. still, i wish his performances at bayern hadn't gone so under the radar before

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Hi besties - here is part 6! We are officially halfway through this fic! Part 6 sees friendships blossom, situationships struggle, and cheeky intercontinental facetime chats! I hope you all are enjoying it as much as i am! I love hearing from you after you've read it! Love always, Steph xx

Part 6 | parte sesta

warnings; a couple of tugs on the heartstrings (in both the best and worst ways)

word count; 2301

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Friday 06/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven

link to fic masterlist here

Amelia had been back in Turin for a week or so, settling back into her city apartment had been more difficult than she anticipated as she was now alone for the first time in more than 2.5 months. It wasn’t very often, but sometimes she did miss the companionship of having a boyfriend. She missed someone to have breakfast with, to watch movies under the covers, to bring to official events. She still did all of these things, with a date, that was a friend, that sometimes maybe crept beyond the friendship zone and into the we shouldn’t be doing this but it feels so good zone.

Fede was someone that hung around Amelia like a fly to sugar. She enjoyed the attention most of the time. She appreciated his friendship, wisdom, talent and intellect. He could hold a conversation, talk to her about the arts, sell her the dream. She even didn’t mind it when they did cross that line a few times. Long afternoons and even longer nights spent wrapped up together in his bed sheets, her bathtub, his kitchen, her lounge room...you get the point. It was almost as though the two were in a committed relationship - committed being the operable word.

Fede wanted Amelia all to himself, and she was just that - available to him and for him whenever he wished, which was often. That’s what confused Amelia most, he didn’t want to label their situationship. He was happy to be ‘friends’ outside the four walls of their respective homes, but lovers when the curtains were drawn. She would maybe understand if he was elusive, always going out and on his phone but he wasn’t. He spent all of his time with her, there wouldn't have been enough hours left in the day if he separated those he spent with her from those he spent alone.

The Juventus players noticed this behaviour early on, seeing a noticeable difference in the way their number 33 paid attention to their tactical sessions. How he was turning up to the training centre early, with an extra piccolo for the english member of their coaching staff. Federico claimed he was helping Amelia brush up on her Italian, but having an Italian-born mother who insisted on sharing her culture with her kids, meant she was pretty much fluent in the language before arriving in Turin. His teammates weren’t stupid and neither was she.

This was the one area of her life where Amelia felt comfortable to go with the flow, she didn’t need to prepare or overthink anything to do with the charming Italian boy from Firenze. She let him take it at his own pace, she was in no need to rush. She let him take her home to meet his Nonna, she spent quality alone time with his dogs when he’s running late from training, and that’s a rare occasion being that it’s normally her there after him and he hangs back to drive them both home.

Everything was progressing at his pace, and the moment Amelia just asks for some clarification on the situation, he would get visibly stressed. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too. And for a long time he could, he had Amelia's attention and affection at Juve, he even had it during their european campaign. At the end of the tournament, when they all broke up for their summer breaks, Fede conveniently waited until their final round in the shower, if you know what i mean, before pulling her into bed and having a heart to heart with her.

Amelia thought that she was finally getting the clarification that she was after, which in a way she did. Fede spoke whimsical words about how she makes him feel wanted and understood, and in turn he told her about the affects he knew he had on her. It was a conversation that would turn Shakespeare to a pile of rose petals. In the end, he told her that he wanted to continue what they had just how they had been doing it. And so, that's exactly how they left it. No labels. Friends outside of the four walls of their apartments. That was all Amelia needed to be able to enjoy her family holiday in Mykonos, guilt free, not missing the man that became the equivalent of her shadow.

The constant company she had in Mykonos compared to what she was experiencing in Turin made her more eager to return to work than she had previously. Of course, there are group chats and facetimes and phone calls throughout the days that kept her occupied, but she was missing the boys and her brother. Her friendship with Kyle was back to its old ways, memes being shared across the european continent, long phone calls to talk about their problems. Kyle knew all about the Fede x Amelia situation, Amelia having given him the sparknotes version over a wine filled zoom session one evening that same week. Their pre-seasons hadn’t gone back yet so they were able to indulge in a bit of vino, guilt free.

She was surprised about the constant contact, or lack thereof, that some of the boys had maintained with her. Ben Chilwell hadn’t once messaged or instagrammed the girl, despite being active in their group chats and liking her holiday pictures on instagram. He even made the rookie error of liking a picture so far down on her instagram, there was no way to explain his need for being there. She messaged him a couple times, assuming he just got busy with whatever he was doing, but there was radio silence on the other end.

A friendship she was surprised had blossomed so well, considering their flirtatious start to life, was with that of Jack Grealish and Tyrone Mings. There had been more facetimes than she could count between herself and the two villa boys. Whether it was Tyrone telling her about a book he had finished that he thought she would enjoy, or Jack asking her how to cook dinner, maybe even them both cooking dinner together - of course she had to have a later dinner to be able to do so, with the time difference and all...and there was no way Jack was going to be having dinner an hour early “athlete’s schedule an all tha ya’know” he would smirk down the camera, brummie accent on full display.

She met Tyrone through Jack, he facetimed the girl for outfit advice one night before going out with the tall defender and the pair hit it off. Both giving Jack the fashion advice he needed but didn’t want to hear (a Gucci two piece tracksuit set is never the answer). Tyrone immediately noticed a certain attention to detail being applied by his fellow number 10, to the tactics that were being put forward by the girl that was far too good at her job. His training was improving, his set pieces having a certain amount of flare. There was also a lack of attention being paid from Jack to other girls. Instead, much preferring to spend the evening at home watching the same netflix series as Amelia so that he could discuss it with her the next day, or better yet, at the same time.

As pre-season had commenced, Amelia had been applying the same tactics that she developed (and that obviously worked) throughout the European campaign to her Juventus club level. Having faith in the four men that were with her and the Azzurri to ensure that their other teammates were completing them accurately. It appears that her skill was widely recognised, having a few missed calls and voice messages left from English telephone numbers that she was yet to listen to. In all seriousness, she was nervous to listen to them. Worried that they would make her an offer she couldn’t refuse. A wise person once told her that you shouldn’t make any decisions whilst you're at the top of your happy, or the bottom of your sad. You should make important decisions when your life is at its constant. It's very easy to accept things that you wouldn’t normally when you're at the peak of your mood, just as easy as it is to forget the bigger picture when you're down. Who knew Kyle Walker was so wise.

“So, i’ve got a bit of a dilemma” She spoke down to her facetime camera one evening in early August.

“Hit me with it darlin’” Jack spoke back to her, getting his dinner utensils out so that they could cook together again. He didn’t like not being prepared for her tutorial, he got stressed if she added pepper and his pepper was still in his pantry. Each afternoon, when it was agreed upon what they would be cooking together that evening, she sent him a list of what he would need out on his bench to complete the meal.

“I’ve missed a few calls from English teleco numbers this last week or so”

“Ok? Do you think they’re scams? You’re beautiful Amelia but I don't think it's actually an Egyptian prince on the other end that wants to offer you 250k in exchange for your paypal info…”

“Ha ha very funny - that was one time ok and he wasn’t a Prince, he was claiming to be an investment banker and wanted to help me start up my portfolio-ANYWAY JACK I WAS 16! God just forget I even told you that story” Amelia barked down facetime, now pausing what she was doing to point at the British boy with her wooden spoon, the same way her mother would to her when she was being cheeky. All she was met with was boisterous laughter.

“Nah i’m only joking, continue with your story.”

“I began to listen to the start of one and it was a talent acquisition manager for one of the premier league clubs, offering me a job” Amelia said as she continued to stir her pasta. Tonight they were making penne arrabiata. She received no reply from the boy. Looking down to her camera to check the call was still active, she saw him looking at the camera with a serious expression.

“Are you going to tell me what the problem is before I start to get excited that you’re going to be living within driving distance from me? Oh god i’ve just realised - was it from Villa? You could be even closer than I imagined” Jack started to ramble, getting over excited with the prospect of being so close to the girl that he could physically hang out with her, instead of virtually.

“Jack calm down, I didn't listen long enough to find out what club he was from. I have 5 more just like it waiting in my inbox.”

“What's the problem then Mils?” Jack could see the girl had apprehension written all over her face.

“I’m just nervous that they're going to tell me everything I've always wanted to hear. That they’re going to make me an offer I can't refuse and I have to leave my life here.” Their pasta was ready to be dished up now, so the girl poured herself a glass of red wine and got herself comfy on her couch.

“Come on, play the messages and i’ll listen to them with you, be your voice of reason,” Jack offered the girl.

“I should probably call Tyrone, you’re just going to reject every club that isn’t Villa.” she laughed before switching facetime to her laptop, moving to the floor of her lounge room and resting her elbows on her coffee table. With the phone near the screen of her mac, she began to play the messages.

_____________________________________________________________

“Hi Amelia, Shaun here from Newcastle United-” “As if you’d waste your talents at Newcastle”

“Jack! That's horrible! At least i know i already look good in the black and white striped kit”

“No, not happening. Next”

“Amelia, Hope you don’t mind but I got your number off of one of my players who knows you. Long story short, we have a position here are Arsenal” “Bloody Bukayo, needs to keep his silky mitts off ya”

“Jack, give it a rest or i’m calling Tyrone”

“Amelia White, Greg here from Aston Villa Football Club” “Get in Greggles!! That's it, stop listening, you’re taking this one”

“I need to listen to them all Jack”

“So, you’ll consider Villa?”

“I’ll consider all of them”

“You’d really go to Arsenal? Aren’t you a Spurs supporter? Shocking stuff”

“Ok maybe not all of them”

“Ciao Amelia, Mario here from Chelsea Football Club - I’ve heard nothing but good things about you. We could really use you here at Chelsea next season. Give me a call when you get a spare moment to discuss the opportunity”

“What? Nothing to say to this one, Jack?”

“Nah, sounds ok. You deserve to showcase your skills at a big club like Chelsea. And besides, you’ll have Jorginho there to look after you. Come on, next one”

“It’s the last one actually”

“Amelia, we’ve got a fantastic opportunity here at Manchester City for someone with your skill set. It would be a massive advantage to have your tactical insight to the game coupled alongside the fantastic leadership we’ve already got at the club”. “Holy shit, Pep called you himself? Kyle Walker really knows how to pull strings when he wants something”

“I am overwhelmed”

“Hey, you don’t need to make any decisions right now. Sleep on it, talk it over with your family. Speak to Jorgi, I know you’re close with him. And just let me know when you decide to pick Villa so i can start house huntin’ for ya”

“Night Jack, speak soon”

“Sleep tight darlin’, speak to ya tomorrow”

Part 7. | settima parte

[calciopics]

Gerd Müller, legendary German forward, dies aged 75

Legendary German striker Gerd Müller has died aged 75. The forward scored 68 goals in 62 appearances for West Germany, including the winning goal in the 1974 World Cup final against Holland.

During 15 years at Bayern, Muller netted a record 365 goals in 427 Bundesliga games and 66 goals in 74 European matches.

Bayern president Herbert Hainer said in statement: “Today is a sad, dark day for FC Bayern and all its fans. Gerd Müller was the greatest striker there’s ever been, and a fine person and character of world football. We’re all united in deep mourning with his wife Uschi as well as his family. FC Bayern wouldn’t be the club we all love today without Gerd Müller. His name and memory will live on forever.”

Müller began his career at TSV Nördlingen, scoring well over a goal a game in Germany’s lower divisions before joining Bayern in 1964, when the club was in the second tier. Thirty-three league goals in his first season helped restore the club to the Bundesliga, and within four years Bayern were German champions, a title they won four times in five years. More impressive still was their stretch of three European Cup wins in a row, from 1974-76, to which Müller contributed 18 goals including three in two finals.

In his 15 years at Bayern, Muller was the Bundesliga’s top scorer seven times, the German football of the year twice and the recipient of the Ballon d’Or once, in 1970. He left in 1979 to follow the likes of Pelé and George Best to the North American Soccer League, where he played three seasons for Fort Lauderdale Strikers, before returning to Bayern as a coach. He remains the Bundesliga’s all-time top scorer.

Müller’s feats on the international stage were no less impressive. After making his debut in 1966, he quickly racked up goals at a rate of over one a game, including 10 at the 1970 World Cup and eight hat-tricks. His last appearance for Germany was the 1974 World Cup final, held at Bayern’s Olympiastadion, where he scored the winning goal in a 2-1 win to make his country world champions. His record of 68 international goals for Germany stood for four decades, until Miroslav Klose surpassed it in 2014 (though Klose took 132 games to Müller’s 62).

In 2015 Bayern announced in a statement that Müller had Alzheimer’s disease.

Bayern CEO Oliver Kahn also paid tribute: “The news of Gerd Müller’s death deeply saddens us all. He’s one of the greatest legends in the history of FC Bayern, his achievements are unrivalled to this day and will forever be a part of the great history of FC Bayern and all of German football. As a player and a person, Gerd Müller stands for FC Bayern and its development into one of the biggest clubs in the world like no other. Gerd will forever be in our hearts.”

Bastian Schweinsteiger, another former Bayern star and Germany World Cup winner, said on Twitter: “Thank you, Gerd! Without this man, FC Bayern would not be like it is today and most of our careers would probably not have been possible. My thoughts are with his family, I am grateful to call him one of my coaches.”

The former England striker Gary Lineker tweeted: “Very sorry to hear that Gerd Muller has passed away. Loved watching him as a child and learnt so much from doing so. The greatest penalty box goalscorer I’ve ever seen.” (The Guardian)

[amoveablejake]

Homage to Catalonia

Look, I never claimed that I came up with that title. 

Before I knew about the city, before a little Argentinian had become an icon, before the glory days of Pep and the unstoppable force that the red and blue clad Catalan giants became, I fell for Barcelona because of Xavi and I’ve never looked back. I won’t hide it, today’s piece is going to be primarily a love letter to Barcelona CF however, it is Valentine’s Day afterall so I think that I can just about get away with it. 

For most of my life Barcelona have been the team. Both in my life and on the European stage. I mean, then again they have always been giants of world football and icons of the sport but in the past, fifteen or so years they have been on quite a journey. They went from being good, hell are they ever only good, to fantastic, then to wow this team is perfect. A team that when you look at its starting eleven it looks like a child has written down a team of their favourite players and mashed them together. Then to a slight falter, moments of glory but mainly a period of uncertainty which feels like its heading towards a rebuild. But even when Barcelona aren’t at their best they are still a team that strikes fear into the hearts of their opponents and really, you can’t help but love them. 

As I mentioned up top, I fell for Barcelona because of Xavi. I don’t know exactly what it was that captured me at a very young age but I knew when I saw him play that Xavi was a truly special player. Soon after I was wearing a replica shirt of his and feeling that this, this was as good as football got. Back then I wasn’t aware of the domestic success of Barcelona. I didn’t really realise they were winning trophies, I was purely enjoying their style of football and thats what has really stayed with me throughout the years. Ofcourse, now I follow them and hope that they do win trophies but I have never forgotten that this was a team that I fell for based entirely on happiness and the joy of the game. And when I follow them now, thats still there. Sure, when they lose it hurts more and when they win it feels even greater than it ever did but all of that doesn’t really matter when you’re watching the Catalan giants do what they do best. 

Now, in the interest of not appearing to be heavily biased I should say that this current Barcelona team is far from the one I fell head over heels for. It is a team that feels like it is about to undergo a period of reconstruction, most likely with Messi leaving in order to allow this. It is sad that the greatest player in the club’s history looks like he has reached his time with the club but really its always better to leave the party when you’re still enjoying it. Is it more heartbreaking to see him play without the same spirit as he once had or to see him leave the club altogether? I think its probably the former, although thats a bitter thought for us all. Its odd, because if Messi goes there is not a clear alternative to who will take his mantle but thats okay. I am excited to find out who will in the years to come and to see a player rise from obscurity to lead the way. Just like someone else did.

At times, Barcelona CF doesn’t feel like a football club. It feels like something much more than that, and when they lost 8-2 to Bayern it felt like a humiliation on a much deeper level than a sporting event. I think this is because to support Barcelona is to fall in love with them. It is to feel every tackle and every goal. In order to share in the glory days we must struggle through the rough patches. As I write this it isn’t clear where the club is going, in particular because presidential elections are on the horizon. I have a feeling though that a new chapter is about to begin, one that will begin perhaps uncertainly, finding the way out of someone’s shadow before establishing a new club. A club that really I’m looking forward to seeing. For too long the style of the team has been based around reliance on one player and I am looking forward to when Barcelona can be more than that again. A team that relies on each other, equally, and plays football you can’t help but smile at. And who knows, maybe that will all be led by a certain manager called Xavi. I can dream, right? 

- Jake, a man who has never actually been to Barcelona, 14/02/2021

[beautifulweird0]

Colorism 1.0

We care too much about how these ‘celeberty’ niggas moving. Y’all care too much about Chris Brown having a type. Yall care too much about various ball players having a type. Some of y’all even care about what Kodak Black ugla’ ass gotta say for whatever reason. Want to know what I think? They don’t matter when it comes to what you think or feel about yourself honey.

My self esteem is a work in progress but I refuse to allow a man ( who doesn’t realize I exist) to make me feel bad about the way I look. Besides, something is wrong with those types anyway.

Black women, we are BEAUTIFUL! So beautiful that if we aren’t seen as beautiful to some of our own, it boils down to them not loving themselves. It’s a powerful truth!

But knowing this is also a sad fact.

I wanna speak on something wholeheartedly. A certain ‘disease’ that’s been keeping a vicious cycle of self hate in the black community.

COLORISM.

For you white people who like to peek at my blogs, colorism is the prejudice or discrimation one has against their own race.

Colorism is one of the many roadblocks that we must conquer if we are going to build anything sustainable as a black community.

Why in the world do some of us look at brown skinned, dark skinned folks and automatically think ‘ugly’ or ‘dirty’? That’s bothersome and evil as hell. Why do we want babies with european features, light skin, and fine textured hair? Why is being light-skinned seen as a privilege and that not being so if you are more melainated?

Well...we didn’t plant that within ourselves. The white man did it. Which is bizarre to me cause about 80% of the white man, black woman unions I see, the black woman is darker toned. And I live in Indiana (*sips tea*).

Let’s look at it like this. Hypothetically, there’s two guys at the bar that are carrying light conversation though they didn’t know of each other before this particular night. Not too far away, a beautiful young lady is chatting with some of her homegirls. Guy 1 went to school with the lady but she wasn’t interested. Guy 2 has eyes on her and mentions her to the other guy. Guy 1, feeling intimidated and rejected tells Guy 2 that he went to school with her, she isn’t very pleasant, she was thottin and boppin’, all of that- which isn’t true whatsoever. He’s talkin’ shit because he feels intimidated (and he’s an ass). Guy 2, being under the impression that Guy 1 is a decent dude, he takes his word as is and doesn’t make a move. The plot twist? Ole girl purposely relocated closer to the bar with her friends to be seen by Guy 2. Niggas hate er’day, B.

Willie Lynch (whether he is fictional or not) had a plan; divide the hell out of these black homes. You had a little, light skinned baby girl for massa’? Cool. When she turns 5, she’s going up to the big house to be his (legitimate) daughters’ pet. But while she’s living in the big, beautiful home and not working out in the hot sun, she gets to wear decent clothes and look a lot more presentable than her darker counterparts.

Oh your baby is darker-toned? Take him/her out into the hot ass field with you. Two days old and all.

That’s like the teacher throwing a pizza party for everyone but you because you, in the eyes of the teacher, is seen as less than.

My main point within both of these scenarios is, think twice about where you’re intaking your information from. Monitor your thoughts! Too often people will sabotage what they wish they had.

While some of these black men are thinking a beautiful brown sista represents the bottom, there’s a rich white guy thinking otherwise.

What’s so messed up about it is, y’all Mamas ain’t even good enough for y’all. Apparently. Whether you niggas realize it or not. It’s a huge difference between being more attracted initially to someone than just saying “Screw that cause these black chicks are (inserts BS to deflect from them not being worth a pissy diaper).”. Whatever a nigga gotta say after that is ignorance and hurt because there’s too many different types of black women. There’s black women who like rock and roll and are chill. There’s black women who are herbalists and hate confrontation. There are black women who even identify as goth. So how in the blue hell are you niggas still boxing ALL black women into one box?

Let’s say you are a black man attracted to light skinned women, more-so. Don’t you dare dog out the darker black women and it's quite wrong to not even give them a chance. That’s wrong, period. Let me be very clear about this; there’s nothing wrong with darker toned black women!!! Period!

I’m holding back from saying vice versa due to the simple fact that light-skinned people get an advantage in this world; best believe the Asians & Indians have colorism issues too.

Folks can scream preference all day long but that’s not a preference-something is wrong. A preference is when you may like softball over football. Preference isn’t only dating light skinned women then refusing to date more melaninated shades while talking down on them.

Ladies, the same applies to us. Yeah its the jokes that go around of light skinned men but not all light skinned men act feminine (my dad Nick ain’t the guy to try). The root of light skinned men jokes come from the stereotype that they are more in touch with their emotions. This theory is true for some but that’s because they were given more room to show emotion. Little brown skinned boys are seen as menaces from jump in society; they aren't supposed to be crying. (Sarcasm)

I personally love me some brown skinned and dark skinned men but I’ve dealt with light skins before and even white (nothing beats my brothers though). To reiterate, it’s okay to be more drawn to a certain shade but access why, while ALSO not knocking the others. Have equal respect and love for all shades within the black community. Let’s stand up for each other please! If someone says something ignorant about our own, check them. We’d be quick to do it if a white person said it; keep that same energy if a black counterpart indulges in colorism too! If we can do that, we’ll be straight.

Love. Peace. Manifest.

~Monet’

[jermaine-main]

A love letter to Ajax, Europe's most exciting team

In Engeland they are deeply impressed by the accomplishments of this young, talented Ajax team.

It resulted in a love letter to 'butterfly' Ajax - in The Telegraph, one of Britain's biggest newspapers - going viral.

Ajax is winning hearts.

"They are doing the impossible"

This is a love letter, a tribute to a team that has made me fall in love with football again and a club who have reminded us all that something pure remains unsullied in the beautiful game. 

You may not fully appreciate how special Ajax are, not yet. You will probably be unaware of the journey this famous Dutch club has been on, the thinking behind the process that has brought them to the brink of a Champions League final for the first time in 23 years.

Ajax are amazing and I do not use those words lightly. They play with freedom of expression, they play like a team born in Amsterdam, that most artistic and rebellious of cities where you are allowed to indulge; where hedonism is a way of life and your creativity is nurtured and encouraged. If ever a football team symbolised its home city, it is Ajax.

It is an incredible team, not just a joy to behold, but remarkable because this is simply not supposed to happen in the modern game.

What makes them special, so unique, is that this Ajax team will not build a dynasty, they will not dominate. Ajax are like a butterfly, beautiful, bewitching, but already dying. Almost from the moment they spread their wings in Europe this season, long before they knocked out Real Madrid and Juventus in the knockout stage, they knew they were reaching the end of their time together.

They are a team to be cherished because these are already their final days. In the summer, this Ajax team will be broken up, their best players scattered around Europe’s biggest clubs, spread all over the continent depending on who offers the most money to entice them away.

And consider this too – Ajax have produced more players, developed in their academy for three or more years, currently playing in Europe's top divisions than any other club in the world. This is not new, what is different, is that for once they have been allowed to grow and develop together. For the time being at least.

Speak to anyone connected with Ajax they will tell you it is inevitable the team will be torn apart. There is sadness, but it is fleeting because this team has made people proud.

It is a team designed to play to win, to never take a backward step, a team which intends to dominate, not merely to survive, even though that is what the club has been forced to do.

Watch Ajax play and you will see and you will, I’m sure, fall in love. The youngest side to reach the knockout stage of this year’s Champions League has also been by far the best to watch. 

The style of football has been likened to playing in the middle of whirlwind, such is the speed and power of those in Ajax shirts, they come at you with such unrelenting ferocity.

They pass and move with a speed not seen for years. Players with good technical ability, able to play in a variety of positions. They are the embodiment of the Total Football values that Dutch football has always prided itself on. They deserve their place alongside all the great Ajax sides of yesteryear, but they have done it in an era when it was supposed to be impossible for them to compete.

Ajax have built this side from a mixture of homegrown talent and bargain buys. The most expensive players, Dusan Tadic, signed from Southampton for around £10m last summer and winger David Neres, signed for around the same amount from Sao Paulo two years ago, are a Premier League reject and a player who spent his first season in the development squad.

It is a team forged from the arrogance and swagger of youth, whether it is midfielder Frenkie de Jong – who has already signed for Barcelona for £75m and will leave in the summer – or centre back and captain, the 19-year-old Matthijs de Ligt, a target for every major club in Europe who scored the winning goal against Juventus, everywhere you look there is an Ajax youngster blossoming.

Ajax built this team from the bottom up. They did not poach the best players, they did not buy the established stars everyone wanted. They built a team with their own vision and hard work, mainly in their own academy. They constructed an awesome side because they believed in their ability to produce and nurture their own players

Ajax may be a famous old name, but they are paupers these days, a relic from a more egalitarian age when all the big clubs, from all the European leagues, could dream of conquering the continent.

Those days were supposed to be gone. We are now in the era of the Super Clubs, when oil-rich nation own football clubs and multi-billionaires jostle with each other for international prestige. We are, if you look across Europe, at a point where the same big teams win their domestic leagues year after year, in Germany, France, Scotland, Italy and beyond. Even in England, the richest club, Manchester City could win the quadruple.

Ajax had supposedly been left behind, but this is a club where supporters do not chant excitedly about one of their own wearing the red and white shirt, they expect it.

Ajax’s wage bill last season was less than Aston Villa, Cardiff, Middlesbrough and Wolves when they were in the Championship last season. It was also beneath Celtic’s – a club with an equally grand history and reputation. It has gone up a little this season, but it will still be lower than every Premier League team.

This time last year, Ajax feared the time had come for their best players to leave, but the club asked the likes of de Jong, de Ligt, Hakim Ziyech and Donny van de Beek to give them another season. Only striker Justin Kluivert, son of Patrick, did not listen, leaving for Roma where he has struggled for first team football.

The rest stayed put, promising the club that had launched their careers, one more year. One more season to win the Dutch league, to win silverware together and surely all of us most now hope it is the biggest prize of all that is paraded through the streets of Amsterdam in June.

Ajax, champions of Europe, would be an even better fairytale than Leicester City winning the Premier League.

--- I'm speechless. Amen. ---

[xtruss]

The legendary German World Cup winner and all-time top goalscorer for Bayern Munich, Gerd Muller, has passed away at the age of 75, according to a statement from the Bundesliga champions.

Muller was regarded as one of the top forwards ever to play the game, scoring 68 goals in just 62 appearances for West Germany between 1966 and 1974, helping his country to the 1972 European Championship and the World Cup just two years later.

'Der Bomber', as he was affectionately known, also remains the top goalscorer for Bayern Munich some 41 years after he last wore the German powerhouses red jersey, with an incredible 563 goals in just 605 games, and developed a reputation as one of the most clinical finishers not just of his era, but of any other too.

He also remains the top scorer in Bundesliga history, where he finished as the top goalscorer in seven separate seasons.

Muller was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease six years ago while he was the coach of Bayern's reserve team.

"Today the world of FC Bayern stands still," the club announced Sunday afternoon in a social media post. "The German record champions and his entire fan base mourn Gerd Müller, who died early on Sunday morning at the age of 75."

Several figures within Bayern Munich were also quick to note the magnitude of the loss.

"Today is a sad, dark day for FC Bayern and all its fans. Gerd Muller was the greatest striker there’s ever been, and a fine person and character of world football. We’re all united in deep mourning with his wife Uschi as well as his family. FC Bayern wouldn’t be the club we all love today without Gerd Muller. His name and memory will live on forever," said Bayern president Herbert Hainer.

CEO, and former goalkeeper, Oliver Kahn also spoke of his sorrow: "The news of Gerd Muller’s death deeply saddens us all. He’s one of the greatest legends in the history of FC Bayern, his achievements are unrivalled to this day and will forever be a part of the great history of FC Bayern and all of German football.

"As a player and a person, Gerd Muller stands for FC Bayern and its development into one of the biggest clubs in the world like no other. Gerd will forever be in our hearts."

[calacuspr]

Calacus Weekly Hit & Miss – Yorkshire Vikings & European Handball

Every Monday we look at the best and worst communicators in the sports world from the previous week.

HIT – YORKSHIRE VIKINGS

Cricket is often hailed as a gentleman’s game, but over the years a small minority of the sport have come under the spotlight for all the wrong reasons.

From ball tampering to match fixing, several cricketers have been accused of crossing the sporting line while trying to make personal gains or prioritising a win-at-all-costs policy.

While sportsmanship is at times hard to come by, especially in games between rivals, Yorkshire Vikings displayed amazing spirit during a Vitality T20 Blast match when the team refused to run out Lancashire Lightning’s Steven Croft after the batsman injured himself while taking a run.

With Lancashire needing just 15 runs from 18 deliveries to win, Yorkshire required quick wickets to get back in the game.

By choosing not to run out Croft after seeing him fall onto the pitch, Yorkshire’s actions underlined the importance of player welfare and it should never be prioritised over winning a match – even if that comes in a match of such local rivalry.

In a post-match interview, Yorkshire captain Joe Root said: "As a side we made a very difficult decision under pressure. Croft’s injury looked very serious at first glance. In many ways it was a relief it was nothing serious.

"I am sure there will be many different opinions. Many people would have handled it differently."

Croft's injury turned out to be leg cramp and he was able to continue his innings, going on to score 26 not out as Lancashire won by four wickets with an over to spare.

He said: "Two games in two days at 36 and a bit of sun has done me. I put the brakes on, they worked, and my legs just cramped up. I didn't know where the ball had gone.

"They could have taken the bails off and credit to them that they didn't."

Lancashire were in complete control of the match at the time of the incident and while a wicket would have made things a little more difficult, whether or not Croft was run out was unlikely to have made much of a difference to the result.

Regardless, Sky Sports commentator Rob Key applauded Yorkshire’s sportsmanship in the face of defeat, adding: "When he went down, you don't know if he had cramp.

"All you see is him rolling around on the ground and he can't continue, he can't even try and get back in.

"It's one of those things where people will agree and disagree with and have their point of view."

Roses games between Lancashire and Yorkshire are traditionally hard fought, with a rivalry which dates back to the Wars of the Roses from the 15th century.

Defeat would have hurt badly for Yorkshire, who slipped to third place in Group A, while Lancashire secured their spot in the quarter-finals with the win.

But Root and his team will have won many admirers for their actions, putting rivalries aside for the good of the game and showing that sporting values are still very much alive.

MISS – EUROPEAN HANDBALL FEDERATION

Former FIFA President Sepp Blatter caused an outrage almost 20 years ago when he suggested that women footballers wear skimpier kits to increase the popularity of the women's game.

This outdated, sexist approach to sport should be a think of the past, but women’s handball has encountered similar challenges this week.

The Norwegian Handball Federation (NHF), supported by Sweden, requested that its women play the European Championships in shorts, complaining that the minuscule regulation bikini bottoms were "embarrassing" and making them feel uncomfortable.

The international regulations say that: 'Women should wear a bikini where the top should be a tight-fitting sports bra with deep openings at the arms. The bottom must not be more than ten centimetres on the sides.’

The Norwegian ladies were prepared to pay the fines that violating the rules would incur.

But as the premiere match against Hungary approached, things got more complicated.

"First we were told about a fine of 50 euros per person per match, something that would have landed us a fine of about 4,850 euros. We accepted that", said team captain Katinka Haltvik.

“However, just before the match we were told that we will be disqualified if we play like that. So we had to go with the bikini bottoms."

"So then we are forced to play with panties," team captain Katinka Haltvik told Norwegian broadcaster NRK. "It is so embarrassing."

Kåre Geir Lio, head of the NHF, was disappointed with the European Handball Federation (EHF) response to the protest.

"It's so embarrassing and hopeless - we are happy to pay the fine if that was what it was about.

"We have contacted them and worked for this for several years. We have raised it at the Congress and we have been promised that this will be sorted out. Still, nothing happens.

"It's just sad for the ladies to have to deal with this."

The Norwegian team made a point of wearing shorts for their bronze play-off match against Spain with the NHF saying that it would pay their €1,500 fine after it was confirmed by the governing body.

The European Handball Federation (EHF) has said that a commission will look at the changes in the law and present a proposal but in this modern, progressive day and age, it is a sad reflection on the sport that such rules exist in the first place.

“The EHF is committed to bring this topic forward in the interest of its member federations, however it must also be said that a change of the rules can only happen at IHF level,” said EHF spokesman Andrew Barringer.

Despite the lamentable oversight, the EHF could have shown that it understood the situation and how this would reflect not just on them but also on the athletes and the sport in general, by relaxing the rules until new statutes could be put in place.

By refusing to show that flexibility, they showed themselves to be out of touch and stuck in a dark age where equality does not currently exist.

For their organisation and indeed for beach handball to be taken more seriously, the EHF has some serious reputational work to do.

[ritebeforeyoureyes]

Confessions

Just a little quick poll, I’m thinking about writing an alternative universe multi-chapter fic, so message me or comment and let me know if you’d be interested! Also, I am going to be doing a European ‘walk for charity’ this summer so my Ko-Fi page at the end of this chapter is in support of that! All of that jargon aside, I hope you like this chapter x

Masterlist – Plot: Zendaya deals with the consequences of her actions.

Confessions (Chapter Twenty Four)

To say that Zendaya had been anticipating the day of the Spider-Man: Homecoming was an understatement. She had spent months looking forward to this day and it was weird that everything seemed to happen so quickly. She couldn’t really process the events properly. There was Law and her mom chasing her around for answers, security jumping down her throat, Michael Keaton holding onto the trail of her dress, Jacob smiling worriedly beside her. The whole premiere was a blur that came and went in what felt like seconds.

The real show, however, was the premiere’s after party. She was rushed into a room and suddenly, she was having to deal with the consequences of her stupidity. The most prevalent consequence - her dad. Kazembe was a hot-headed man who prided himself on being able to protect all of his children, especially his youngest daughter. It was unprecedented for parents to pick their favourite child but there was a part of Kazembe that chose Zendaya. And it wasn’t because of how successful she was at such a tender age, it was because, she was the one child that he had truly gotten to connect with. They’d moved out to Los Angeles when Zendaya was eleven, twelve years old and Kazembe had had to be both her father and her mother. With Claire still teaching in Oakland, Kazembe had been the first parent of contact through puberty. The period talk, the cramps, the angst: it had all been him and as a result, the two had formed a bond unlike any other. So, it was expected of him to be as angry as he was now.

“Where is he?” Kazembe, with his long legs, was pacing the length of the room unnervingly whilst Law prepped Zendaya for her after party look. Law had been in Zendaya’s life since she had entered the business and for once in his life, even he was shaking. His hand was jittery as he tried to bundle her hair backwards. “What were you thinking? I’m calling the cops-“

“Dad, relax a second will you.” Zendaya sighed, slipping out of her seat. Law opened his mouth in protest but shut it instantly. Zendaya had walked the red carpet flawlessly and regardless of how much makeup or product went on her, he knew she was going to do that exact same thing soon. But for now, Law acknowledged that Zendaya needed to be her and speak to her parents first. He sent a knowing glance to some of her stylist team and they all left the room silently, sympathetic smiles sent at Zendaya.

“Relax?” Kazembe was yelling as soon as Law closed the door behind him. “You want me to relax? That fucker drugs my child, breaks into her home, invades her privacy and you want me to relax?” Soon, Kazembe found himself thinking back to the times that he and Claire had openly invited Val into their homes. They’d watched football games together and talked basketball; he’d treated him like a son and now, he just felt foolish. Foolish and responsible. If he and Claire had seen something sooner, none of this would have happened. As her parents, they could have stopped it, they could have protected her. “We let him into our lives, Claire - her life!”

“I know.” Claire had been silent throughout the majority of the ordeal, her previous tear streaks still evident on her face. She was usually very opinionated, but she was glad to see her daughter safe and well. Her voice was quiet and shy, almost scared that if she yelled or made any drastic movement Zendaya would suddenly disappear again.

“Mom,” Zendaya, ignoring her father, walked towards her mom. At first her movements were light and reluctant and then she was running, pulling Claire into an overbearingly tight hug. “I’m sorry, you guys, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything-“

“Why didn’t you?” Due to Claire’s added height, she was mumbling into her daughter’s hair. “We were so worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you, I just … I knew if I told you you’d talk me out of it.”

“Yes!” Kazembe’s tone of voice was juxtaposing the quiet encounters between the mother and daughter; his loud and authoritative. “Because what you did was stupid and reckless and-“ His voice trailed off as realisation hit him. Without a word, Kazembe began flicking through his phone, ready to contact Val’s parents. If Kazembe didn’t know what had gone in, neither did the Chmerkovskiy’s and Kazembe was ready to give them a piece of his mind in regards to their son.

“Dad, what are you doing?” Zendaya’s question was rhetorical, her father was a pretty predictable man and deep down, she knew exactly what he was doing. She didn’t wait for an answer from him either, she pulled herself away from her mom to grab at his phone. “Look, just let me explain and then you can reach out to Sasha and Larissa, okay?”

“We owe it to her to listen, Kaz.” With her mom on her side, Zendaya was able to calm her dad down (just a little) so that she could explain how she’d gotten her answers and simulatenously gotten Val to admit himself into a mental health facility. Her parents listened and nodded, their moods of anger and sadness dwindling into pride. It still baffled them sometimes how a girl of her age had such a strong head on her shoulders. Admittedly, Claire would have never considered checking Val into a facility, she would have called the police and let them deal with it. “It was the mature thing to do, Maree.” Claire only referred to Zendaya by her middle name rarely and the sound made her lips lift into a small smile.

“I’m in the process of getting a restraining order too.” This time, Zendaya directed her words at her dad. She wasn’t stupid, as much as her actions translated to that fact, she wasn’t. She was aware that the mental health establishment that Val had gone into was a voluntary one, like most, and she was, therefore, prepared for if he erratically decided he didn’t want the help anymore. According to the law, he was freely allowed to discharge himself if he wasn’t at risk of hurting himself or anyone else and as soon as honeybee had started to make sense to Zendaya, she called her lawyer and she began drafting up the legalities. “I want him to get help, but I’m done. I don’t want that around me anymore, you know what I mean?”

“I want a possession order too.” Kazembe made a mental note to talk to Zendaya and consequently, his own, lawyer. He wanted the legal procedures done correctly so that the bastard couldn’t touch his daughter again. This meant obtaining all blackmail material that he had against Zendaya and her loved ones.

After readily agreeing to her father’s input in legal procedures, Kazembe calmed down. He let Law back into and within moments, it was like nothing had happened.  Zendaya was in her purple dress and her white heels, her makeup reapplied and then she was facing the world again, the heavy weight off her chest.

But, of course, it wasn’t actually, because Zendaya still had to face him – Tom. As soon as she was in his proximity, she could feel his gaze following her every move. This wasn’t like the creepy stare down of Val, she could almost feel Tom’s worry and his tenseness transferring over to her. And, she couldn’t help it, her body was gravitating towards him willingly. She wanted him to comfort him, wanted to reassure him that everything was going to be okay. With Val’s craziness out the way, there was nothing stopping them anymore; they could be together. Zendaya dodged around people in the room, her body heavily agitated until she was staring into his eyes, her mouth and throat suddenly very dry. He looked good, really good. His stylists had put him in a suit that fit him extremely well and his hair was combed over sleekly; face shaven clean. Despite this, Zendaya could see the seriousness in his eyes. His eyes were tinted red, like he’d been crying, and Zendaya felt her heart strings pull.

“Can we talk?” Tom nodded but before the two could sneak away, a member of inhouse paparazzi stopped them for a picture. With the guy’s ongoing persistence, Zendaya knew they couldn’t say now. But, having not talked about their issues, the picture was slightly awkward, both of them standing at a considerable distance with hesitant smiles on their faces.

“Are you okay?” Once they were away from the excited bustle of their close friends and family, Tom was checking Zendaya over, his eyes trying to detect any injuries. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, Tom.” Fine was a funny word, when someone said they were fine, they usually meant something else and Zendaya found the need to clarify; Tom’s concern still clear. “I’m okay.”

“What were you thinking?” Hearing the confidence in Zendaya’s voice and feeling certain that she wasn’t physically hurt, Tom decided to go with Kazembe’s approach; one of anger. “You went with him, alone! You know how dangerous that is? What if something happened?” Tom, for the past few hours, had had scenario after scenario floating at the forefront of his head. He saw her passed out in ditch, he saw her bloody and bruised, he saw her drugged and helpless. Each situation was worse than the next and he couldn’t stop them. His head couldn’t stop haunting him with pictures of her angelic face and he knew, if something happened, he wouldn’t be able to cope. “What if something happened to you?” Tom’s voice cracked and Zendaya enveloped him into her arms, his chin resting on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” She felt guilty, extremely so. Today was meant to be a day of happiness for Tom and she’d taken that away from him. His first big feature film had just premiered, and she was damned if she was going to let him stay on edge throughout its entirety. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry … but look at me, I’m okay. It’s all okay.” Her fingers stroked at his cheek delicately, his body reacting instantly to her touch. “But forget about all of that, tonight’s about you. We should be celebrating-”

“No, I’m not that selfish, Z.” Tom pulled away from her, his eyes narrowing at the concept of celebrating when she’d just come face to face with one of her biggest fears. “I want you to tell me what happened-“

“No, I’m not that selfish.” Zendaya extended her hand forward for Tom to clasp. “We can talk about what happened later, but this night is only happening once, and I love you, so are we going out there and doing this or nah?”

Just as the three words left her lips, Tom couldn’t help his smile from exploding – this was it. Granted, he’d always pictured himself confessing first but, it really didn’t matter. She was in front of him, alive and safe and she loved him.

“I love you too.” Tom gingerly placed his hand in hers, their fingers threading together, finally.

If you enjoyed this piece and would like to help further me and my work, please support me whilst I try to raise money to do a ‘walk for charity.’ The money you donate will help create awareness for cancer research and will allow me to have added support throughout my journey. It is one hundred per cent a voluntary pursuit and greatly appreciated, however, your lovely comments and votes are always welcomed too. Thank you for being the greatest: https://ko-fi.com/D1D072V0

[nabilfekir]

below is a long ass paris saint-germain post-ucl thoughts essay

to start.....im not even mad that we’re out....im mad that they didn’t even fucking try. after the first leg (in which the same old story of “we crumbled” plays on), they all came out on social media asking for supporters to be there on march 6th and the supporters were there, the supporters showed up.....but where the fuck were they? where the fuck was the team??? they asked for our support, we gave it and what did they give us in return? the same old bullshit we get every year. i didn’t see “warriors” on that pitch. i saw a bunch of pussyholes and cowards (excuse my language). 

the only players i give credit to are areola and thiago silva, the rest were shocking. i’m so fucking disappointed to be honest. they all cried out on instagram for supporters not to give up and then they go and visibly give up on the pitch, give up on the biggest stage in club football for everyone to watch. fucking shameful. even if we don’t go through at least WIN the game at home, or even at least give it your fucking all to the 90th minute plus stoppage time. that’s the least we ask of them.

now key parts of our team will be looking for the exit door in the summer and they’ll think they weren’t the problem but this was a loss they all participated in as a team...everyone on that pitch but areola n o monstro. the rest of the team all has to eat a big ass piece of that L pie. they don’t get to think they’re better than this team bc absolutely none of them proved that on the pitch. the exit door is open for those who want to leave - marco i love u but every summer its the same shit with rumors and this past summer u crossed a line so if you want to leave bye see ya bc i’ve had enough. draxler can go too, him and his fans like to think he’s better than the team but i can count on one hand the amount of good games he’s had this season when we give him the chance to prove himself. if neymar wants to go m*drid please do, i’d love to have the spotlight off of us but know they’ll have to pay 444m aka double we paid for him lmao fuck yall if you think you’re gonna get his ass at any price less than wtf we paid for him bet on that. idc to keep him against his will but we’re sure as hell not gonna record a 222m loss so if they want him, pay up. rabiot can go too, if he wants to go to the prem then let him, he’s also been hinting at thinking he’s too good for us and he’s free to go and prove that somewhere else. cavani looks like his foot is out the door and his service to this club was greatly appreciated but since he broke ibra’s record he’s looked distracted and disinterested and he’s been in the media saying he wants to win the copa lib so let him go back to argentina if thats what he wants. let timothy weah work his way into this team and see if he can be a good striker for us.

on that topic......i am desperate for us to use our academy better. as most big european clubs, the path from academy to first team has gotten harder to follow but i don’t want that for us. i don’t want us to be ch*lsea loaning out or our youth like cattle to make us money or whatever and never giving them a shot at the first team but then they go somewhere else become a star and we sit there looking like idiots. if they’re good, give them a shot, especially if we wrap up the league soon, why not give some of them a TRY at the very least? 20-15 minutes at the end of a game at least? we only used tim weah bc we were trying to rest for real m*drid, otherwise it never would’ve happened. how long has nkunku been in the squad but he still mostly comes on as a sub in the 80th minute, and kimpembe needs to start being utilized more before he decides to leave because thiago at this point must be eyeing retirement. presnel is an amazing player and has psg in his blood and would fight for the shirt and this team more than any player on that pitch. we need to start making better use of our academy period point blank. our youth team captain yacine adli is being eyed up by clubs like m*n city b*yern b*rcelona ars*nal but hasn’t gotten a single look in with us and tbh i think he’ll probably leave and that will be another talented prospect leaving our academy without having played for us. and watch he becomes a great midfielder meanwhile we pay out our ass to buy one from some club.

anyone who wants to leave the team, let them. anyone who thinks they’re better than the team, sell them. let’s give our titis parisiens a shot in this team and keep a low profile, i’m tired of making a public entertainment show of ourselves for everyone to keep an eye on, we bring too much attention to ourselves and that heightens everyone’s expectations for us in the ucl, which we’re destined to fall short of.

the coach........lord have mercy we need this man gone in the summer. we have to bring in a coach with champions league experience if we’re really trying to build a project to win it. it was stupid to keep him on after last year anyway with having been embarrassed in the ucl and on top of that come second in the league. i’m still baffled how nasser let that happen. and even more stupid was to think a coach who won the europa league a couple of times could give us glory in a competition at a much higher level than that. he’s a europa league manager and that’s his level and will always be his level, it’s time to let him go. he’s fallen below expectations way too many times. get a manager with ucl experience either winning it or at least having been to a final, a manager with a personality and tenacity and fight to give this team a better mentality.

our biggest problem is that our mentality is weak as shit. we have a team capable of getting far in the ucl - strong players, technical players, talented players! - but our mentality when the going gets rough or when there’s a little bit of pressure???? disgraceful and disgusting and embarrassing. i’d back a ligue 2 team to beat us if they really fought for it, the same way rc strasbourg beat us earlier in the season, the same way ly*n beat us earlier this year, the same way m*rseille was a free kick in the last second away from beating us for the first time in 6 years back in october. when a team fights with actual passion and fight....we crumble....and badly, they don’t even have to play well but play with strength and the will the win. its so sad to watch honestly. it’s literally our weakness.

we’re a good team. we went out to a better team. i knew we were out as soon as the draw happened. i knew we weren’t getting past them, despite all the m*drid fans being fucking dramatic about it. the back to back ucl winners? it doesn’t matter what kind of form they’re in, they were going to beat us. there was no question of it, as if it their team wasn’t going to show up on the biggest stage? when they have nothing else but the ucl to fight for? it was never going to be easy and we got knocked out by the literal title holders. we didn’t get an easy draw, or even a moderate one, in fact we got probably the hardest draw, i dont care what m*drid fans or anyone else has to say about that.

but again....it’s not about the fact that we got knocked out - we got knocked out by the current uefa champions league champions! that’s nothing to be embarrassed of - but it’s HOW we got knocked out, thats the embarrassing part. no fight no passion no goddamn BALLS. when it was time to stand up and be counted and show we’re more than a “money team”.....we didn’t. any criticism that comes our way now, we invited upon ourselves. we didn’t need to buy neymar to win the champions league lmao, that wasn’t the solution whatsoever.

our team last year but with a fighting spirit would be better than our current team this year (with neymar) but with our weak mentality.

if we had fighting spirit and passion and the willingness to get dirty and play hard and fight for our lives on THIS VERY DAY last year against uefalona, we might have made it through then, we wouldn’t have won it, but at least gotten through to the next round despite the ref’s utter bullshit.

anyway i’m not even hurt about the game anymore. i’m more worried about how this will affect our season, but even more so i’m worried about what will happen to us in the summer when verratti, rabiot, cavani and more will be wanting to leave.

at this point this team HAS AND I MEAN HAS to do a domestic treble (EDIT: it would be a quadruple i guess cuz we won the trophée de champions at the beginning of the season against m*naco).....like anything less is a big fat fucking failure of a season. the cup final against m*naco.....i mean now i’m worried that if m*naco turn up and really fight for it, we’re probably still going to be licking our wounds from this match and lose. and i really need us to beat them for mbappé’s sake lmao.

anyway this team truly disrespected the fans that night (again! second year in a row!) and i’m hurt and fuck the champions league fuck both teams from that night and fuck emery.

[weloseeveryweek]

a change of results

Retrospection is such a human trait, and it seems to come to the fore in sports. Match reports are actually pointless, if you think about it; what for review something that’s already happened and will never happen again? Greatest XIs, players you’d have liked to play with – all these are things that you would have liked to have had but never will. And so this question begs that kind of answer: fantastical, self-indulgent, and nothing more than a wish, a dream.

The go-to result I say when I think of this question is the Champions’ League final of 2009. I remember reading the papers the morning after and being bitterly disappointed. My dad, from the doorway, said, “that was way too easy,” and I said, “but still.” If we’d won that not only would we have been one shy of Liverpool’s record, we would also have been the first team in the modern era to have won it back to back, Madrid be damned.

There are other candidates in this vein, of course. Reversing the 6-1 defeat against City that would have left us with the league; some result in the 94/95 season for similar result; any one of the FA Cup finals we’ve lost; the 1996 semi-final against Germany for England. Any of these are easy to explain. But the real result I settle on, regardless of trophies and glory and everything that’s shiny in our lives, is different from that. Instead of wanting us to win a game, I want us to have lost.

Let me take you back almost sixty years, now. There’s a bunch of fellows dressed in natty suits waiting in a German airport. I assume all their ties were red. They’ve had two false starts, because it’s snowing heavily outside, but they’re optimistic about this third time being their last. They board the plane. They’re chatting, talking about cards and home and football, of course. They’re into the semi-finals of the European Cup – who wouldn’t be cheerful?

You know what comes next. Everyone does. I cried once in the National Football Museum and that was at the telegram Duncan Edwards sent to his landlady – ‘all fights cancelled. Flying tomorrow. Duncan.’ There’s this one picture in the Guardian from the 7th of February, 1958, dull and dark, the sheen of the moon or some kind of light reflecting dimly on the pavement. Hundreds, thousands of people are lined along the road. They’re all waiting for something. You can’t make out their faces but some have their heads bowed, some have their hands clasped. On the back of the photograph it says – Old Trafford at midnight, crowds waiting for cortege of coffins of Manchester Utd.

I don’t suppose I can adequately explain the collective grief that a football club experiences when something like this happens. It happened to Chapecoense and the world mourned with them, as they should have, but when you are a fan of that club tragedy is a completely different thing. To understand this you must understand how fans relate to football. I know that we’re fond of saying ‘it isn’t just a game’, but there isn’t any other way to put it. It’s not just a game, pure and simple. It becomes a part of your life; it is that which defines you and that with which you define yourself. When you become a fan of a club you’re buying into a common identity, a culture, a different society. And tragedy affects all of these things. As a Singaporean I’m still affected by the Japanese Occupation even though I hadn’t even been born, because it is a defining moment in our history that shapes it. So too for tragedy in football, and especially when it happens to the team.

Because the team represents the club, represents its values, represents – as it were – your soul; and the Busby Babes were United. Strong and brave and bright and young. I was reading Arthur Hopcraft’s The Football Man recently and he says that Munich is different from other disasters, like Milan’s, because Edwards and the rest represented the beginning of what could have been a future. It is their unfulfilled, unknown potential that hurts the most. They were already through to the semi-finals – they could have been the first ever English team to lift the trophy. They were already league title winners. They were midway through the FA Cup (and, incidentally, still reached the final that year). Their names could have gone down in history as champions, winners, legends; not sad ghosts so cruelly snatched away, with nothing more than black and white photographs and a memorial every year.

You might think me mechanical for reducing the tragedy to mere trophies. I’m aware that winning isn’t everything, but football is everything, and in football the narrative goes with the most dizzying of wins, the jaw-dropping last minute victories (snatched preferably from reviled opponents). This is not to define their lives in terms of winning – they had families, wives, children, mothers and fathers – but to explain why their loss is felt so keenly. They gave people something to believe in, and taking away a team is like taking away hope. They are your father, brother, son. And you feel the loss just as keenly. Danny Boyle in the Class of ‘92 mentions how the last photograph of the Busby Babes was the biggest photograph in his family album. Eric Harrison says that he was pulled out of class to be told the news, like when a relative passes. In The Football Man, Hopcraft on visiting Dudley (Edwards’ hometown) related this anecdote told by Edwards’ father: lorry drivers with Manchester accents, stopping on the long run home from somewhere south to visit Duncan’s grave.

Sir Alex Ferguson was fond of saying that a club is like a family. When something happens everyone, regardless of how far away they are, feels it. This doesn’t just ripple through support at the time; it ripples through time itself, because of how human it is. At the end of the day eight boys died. The oldest was twenty-eight. Big Duncan was twenty-three. Hopcraft writes about the grief of Edwards’ parents, the way they kept all his medals and England caps and United shirts in his room. In the Dudley Cathedral there is a stained glass window featuring him in his United kit kicking a ball. Football is about remembering. About telling stories. About not forgetting what came before, be it a treble or a tragedy.

The more cynical people in the world have accused Manchester United of turning Munich into a publicity stunt, a circus fest of memorials and pointless sentiment; all right, perhaps there are those who would do that, but I’ve no doubt that any true United fan understands the gravity of the occasion, and behind the so-called memory industry there is a swelling of feeling that manifests itself in the spontaneity of people who gather in the Munich tunnel quiet and solemn. Class of ’92 highlights the comparisons between the Busby Babes and Fergie’s Fledglings, and about the shadow of Munich that settled over the club always. Duncan Hamilton, in his book about George Best, wrote about the 1968 European Cup semi-final against Real Madrid. Bill Foulkes, a Munich survivor, scored the winner, and ‘turns towards his own half, slightly spreading his arms and softly clenching together the fingers of both hands. His face is almost stony.’ Hamilton delves into hyperbole and imagination here, but you can’t help agreeing with him when he posits that one image must have been ‘whirling through [Foulkes’s] mind then. Of men who would never age, would never go grey and would always wear United Red.’

Tragedy has moulded us as a club, for better or for worse. To accuse Munich of being manufactured would be to accuse us of lacking a soul. Yet some stories are better left untold. I know that Munich has added to the club mythology and sense of self and our way of being, but all the same I wish that there was a less awful way of doing this than having to know that twenty-three people died. How much better would it have been for our story, our spirit to have been written in the silver engravings on the bottom of trophies than the stone embossing on shrines. How much more important should the names on that empty lineup against Sheffield Wednesday be filled, that twenty-three families, and United itself, could have gone on.

Which is why the game I would change, even though I know I will never be able to, is a game in the European Cup run of Manchester United in 1957/58. Perhaps instead of winning 3-0 against Dukla Prague on the 20th of November, Pegg and Taylor amongst the scorers, we could have lost 3-0 instead. The next leg was lost 1-0 at home, and we would never have made it through to play Red Star Belgrade. Never stopped at Munich to board a plane. They would have come home from Prague awfully disappointed, their spirits down, a bitter taste in their mouths, faced with insurmountable odds. But they would have come home.

Mark Jones – Roger Byrne – Geoff Bent – David Pegg – Eddie Colman – Bill Whelan – Tommy Taylor 

[xtruss]

Mural In Soccer Star’s Hometown Became Anti-Racism Symbol

BY DANICA KIRKA

July 13, 2021

LONDON (AP) — Through the pens and pencils of children, England is fighting back against racism.

After Marcus Rashford and two other Black players missed penalty kicks in the final moments of the national soccer team’s European Championship loss to Italy, bigots defaced a mural of the Manchester United star and hurled racist abuse at the three on social media. Children in Manchester rose to Rashford’s defense, filling spaces on the wall with messages of support, encouragement and consolation.

“I hope you won’t be sad for to (sic) long because you are such a good person,” 9-year-old Dexter Rosier wrote. “I’m proud of you. You will always be a hero.”

The mural, which occupies a brick wall not far from where Rashford grew up, has become a symbol of England’s fight against the bigotry that has blighted the sport loved by people of all backgrounds. The struggle is playing out across the country as politicians and pundits, athletes and activists, react to the racist comments that surfaced post-defeat and undermined the sense of national unity created by England’s uplifting run to its first major soccer championship final since 1966.

The online abuse of the Black players underscores the problems created by one vision of what it means to be English, which is rooted in visions of the past glories of empire and colonialism and often surfaces during international sporting events, said Professor Bridget Byrne, director of the Center on the Dynamics of Ethnicity at Manchester University.

“The work of achieving racial justice in the U.K. is far from over, and that’s what this has revealed,” she said. “Whilst racism has become less socially acceptable to express openly, it is still very much a strand in British culture.”

Prime Minister Boris Johnson was quick to condemn racism and blamed social media companies for not doing enough to stop the spread of hate on their platforms. He said he would use a meeting with company leaders Tuesday to reiterate the urgent need for action.

Critics said that Johnson and his government failed to tackle the issue at the start of the Euro 2020 tournament, when some fans booed the England team for kneeling symbolically at the start of games to highlight the problem of racism.

Home Secretary Priti Patel, whose department oversees police and domestic affairs, has come under particular scrutiny after she opposed what she called “gesture politics” and said fans had the right to boo. In an interview last month, Patel also criticized protests last summer by the U.K.‘s Black Lives Matter movement, including one where a statue of a 17th century slave trader was toppled, as efforts to rewrite history.

On Monday, England player Tyrone Mings chastised Patel for playing politics after she called on the police to take action against those who subjected the soccer players to “vile racist abuse.”

“You don’t get to stoke the fire at the beginning of the tournament by labelling our anti-racism message as ‘Gesture Politics’ & then pretend to be disgusted when the very thing we’re campaigning against, happens,” Mings wrote on Twitter.

Marvin Sordell, a former professional soccer player who advises England’s Football Association on diversity, said the outpouring of disgust from politicians and pundits was depressingly familiar.

“We always see condemnation,” Sordell told the BBC. “It’s the same for a few days, then we kind of get back to normal and then another incident happens.…We kind of live in this cycle that continuously goes on. At some point, we have to break the cycle. At some point, it isn’t enough to just be outraged. We have to do something.”

Rashford, who grew up a few miles from Manchester United’s historic Old Trafford stadium, joined England’s national team at the age of 18 after scoring a barrage of goals for his hometown club. The son of a single mother who sometimes skipped meals to ensure her five children didn’t have to, he became a national icon last year when he led a campaign that forced the government to feed children who were missing out on free school meals while the pandemic closed schools.

In response to the abuse he received Sunday night and the outpouring of support from fans, Rashford, now 23, spoke of his teammates and the “brotherhood” created by their successes and failures this summer.

“I can take critique of my performance all day long, my penalty was not good enough, it should have gone in,” he wrote in a Twitter message that has been liked almost 1 million times. “But I will never apologise for who I am and where I came from.”

That is Manchester’s Withington neighborhood, where local artists painted a two-story, black-and-white mural of Rashford after the success of his school meals campaign.

Abi Lee, assistant head teacher of the nearby St. Paul’s Church of England Primary School, said students were upset by the way Rashford and his teammates were treated, so she took them to the mural to show them how people are fighting racism.

“We wanted them to see that nothing can knock you if you keep fighting,″ Lee said.

Nicola Wellard said her children went to bed crying after England’s loss dashed hopes of a European championship this year. But they were more upset when they found out that racists had targeted local hero Rashford.

On Tuesday afternoon her son, 11-year-old Dougie, proudly pasted his own message on the mural.

“He only missed a penalty,” Dougie wrote. “He doesn’t deserve this.”

[devotedlydistinguishednut]

Wednesday Briefing by The New York Times

India’s coronavirus mystery

    The country has around 125 confirmed cases, and it’s a bit of a puzzle how the world’s second-most-populous nation, with 1.3 billion people, has seemingly remained unscathed so far.

    There could be many more cases in India than have been detected, because of the difficulties of getting tested. But it’s also possible that the country has actually managed to so far escape the worst — either because of quick and strict efforts right from the start, or another mix of factors.

    The relative calm has fueled disbelief in some quarters that the virus is even a threat. Over the weekend in Lucknow, one of India’s bigger cities, young people packed into pubs. “I am not scared. I eat, party, sleep,” said Akshay Gupta, an accountant who was bar hopping on Saturday night. “The scare is overhyped.” 

    Elsewhere in Asia, countries have begun to impose strict measures, including lockdowns in the Philippines and Malaysia and the widespread closure of schools, businesses and entertainment venues in Thailand. Some nations face a worrisome rise in cases without health care systems that can deal with a major outbreak.

Case studies: 

    Early intervention, meticulous tracking, quarantines and social distancing helped Singapore, Taiwan and Hong Kong get their outbreaks under control.

■ New York City residents were told to prepare for a possible “shelter in place” order in the next 48 hours. Separately, the Trump administration will seek to send cash payments directly to Americans to cushion the economic blow of the pandemic.

■ The first testing in humans of an experimental vaccine has begun, but even if it is proved safe and effective, it will not be available for at least a year.

■ The European Union has adopted a 30-day ban on non-essential travel to European countries from the rest of the world, starting a stretch of isolation like nothing in modern history outside wartime.

■ After suffering their worst day in decades, stocks bounced back: The S&P 500 rose about 6 percent as Washington policymakers talked up plans to try to cushion the economy.

■ The actors Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson have been released from the hospital after contracting the virus.

What we can do next

    Melina caught up with Donald G. McNeil Jr., our infectious diseases reporter who has been covering epidemics for nearly two decades. He has been reporting on experts’ recommendations for what to do next.

    You’ve said this is a crisis but it’s not unstoppable. How do we stop it?

    We need to shut down all travel, as experts have said. And then we really aggressively tackle the clusters. People have got to stop shaking hands; people have got to stop going to bars and restaurants. New clusters are appearing every day.

    It’s basically urgent that America imitates what China did. China had a massive outbreak in Wuhan, spreading all over the country, and they’ve almost stopped it. We can shut off the roads, flights, buses and trains. I don’t think we’ll ever succeed at doing exactly what China did. It’s going to cause massive social disruption because Americans don’t like being told what to do. 

    In places like China, Singapore and Taiwan, they’ve gone through SARS — they know how scary it is.

    Is that what some countries are missing? This sense of collective action and selflessness?

    That is absolutely what many Americans are missing — that it’s not about you right now. When I was a kid, my parents were in the World War II generation and there was more of a sense of, hey, we did something amazing; we ramped up this gigantic society effort. It was this sense of we’re all in this together. 

    We’ve got to realize that we’re all in this together and save each other’s lives. That has not penetrated yet and it needs to penetrate because we all have to cooperate.

    The sad thing is: Most people — this has been true in every epidemic I’ve covered, whether it’s Zika in Puerto Rico or AIDS in South Africa — don’t believe in the disease until they see someone get sick and die from it, someone they know. And it’s too bad. It’s: Oh, that’s happening to those people over there; that’s happening in China; that’s not going to happen to us.

    I imagine that after decades of covering epidemics, you understood Covid-19’s severity early on. Tell me about when this became serious for you. 

    I remember vividly — I went on vacation to Argentina, not thinking this was terribly serious: It sounds like an animal disease and it’s going to kill a limited number of people. By the time I came back, China admitted there was sustained human-to-human transmission. I started watching the case counts double and doing the math in my head, and I realized, oh my god. This is going pandemic.

    When was that?

    It was late January. I was on the subway, going from work to my girlfriend’s house, just sort of thinking about the numbers and realizing: Wait a minute, that doubling rate is so fast, there’s no way this isn’t going to become a pandemic. I started writing on a piece of notebook paper trying to see if I was crazy — and then went looking up the 1918 pandemic and realized that was the closest model to this.

China bans American journalists from major outlets

    Beijing announced that it would expel American journalists working for The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal and The Washington Post, and also ban them from reporting in territories like Hong Kong and Macau.

    It also demanded that those outlets, as well as the Voice of America and Time magazine, provide the government with information about their operations. The full scope of the directive was not immediately clear.

     The latest move in the tit-for-tat campaign between Washington and Beijing comes at a moment when reporting on the coronavirus is a global, 24-hour operation for most news outlets. Last month China expelled three Wall Street Journal reporters from the country. President Trump responded this month by limiting the number of Chinese citizens who could work in the U.S. for five state-controlled Chinese news organizations.

    Related: China has been cracking down on online anger toward the government for its handling of the coronavirus outbreak. A new internet police force is knocking on doors of suspected critics, subjecting them to hours of interrogation and in some cases forcing them to sign loyalty pledges.

Why yoga is causing a stir in Nepal

    Next month, the small Himalayan nation will become the first in the world to make yoga a required subject nationwide.

    For many around the world in similar programs, it’s a healing and stress-reducing addition to a curriculum. But in a region where the exercises are increasingly intertwined with rising Hindu nationalism, some Muslims are worried.

Here’s what else is happening

Football: The European Championship, second only to the World Cup in international football, will be postponed until 2021.

Germany: A laptop sold on eBay for $100 was discovered to contain classified software for a surface-to-air rocket system used by the country’s air force.

Syria: Amid a cease-fire in the northern province of Idlib, some of the hundreds of thousands of displaced residents are trickling back. But very few believe the quiet will last.

Snapshot: A physicist is trying to disentangle the structural dynamics of bird nests using bamboo skewers, above. A nest is “a disordered stick bomb,” resilient in ways that humans have hardly begun to understand.

What we’re reading: This Harvard Business Review article about two new mothers who take very different paths going back to work in Sweden and the U.S. “Reading the two stories side by side shows just how dismally work-family policies in the U.S. measure up — if they’re there at all,” says Francesca Donner, the director of our Gender Initiative.

Now, a break from the news

Cook: This rosemary, olive oil and orange cake is great for what our Food editor Sam Sifton calls “procrastibaking,” though “anxiety baking may be the better term of art these days.”

Shows for social distancing: Looking for a few hours of distraction between vigorous hand-washings? Need a moment away from Twitter? A musical mockumentary, an addiction sitcom, two true-crime docs and a pottery competition are here to help.

Read: Was there a murder on the Mayflower? In her new novel, “Beheld,” TaraShea Nesbit uses a death on the pilgrim ship to examine what life was like for women in the Plymouth Colony.

Smarter Living: Here are some ways to help your community combat the coronavirus while still practicing social distancing. For starters, donate — ideally money, not old cans — to your local food bank.

And now for the Back Story on … Covering an infected global economy

    The pandemic is having a big impact on the world’s wallet. To understand the fallout, Times Insider spoke to Jeanna Smialek, who covers the Federal Reserve from Washington. Below is a condensed version of the conversation.

    On Sunday, the Fed slashed interest rates to almost zero. How could that affect us going forward?

    The move should help consumers borrow and spend. For example, it should make mortgages cheaper. But at the end of the day, nothing the Fed can do at this point is going to offset the full shock of coronavirus, because its tools are just not well suited to making up for lost work hours or helping employees who have missed out on paychecks.

    Can nations work together to help the global economy rebound?

    Central banks do not have the firefighting power that they had going into the 2008 financial crisis. Many central banks, like in Japan and in parts of Europe, already had very low or even negative interest rates. And so they just have less room to act to soften the economic blow.

    What matters right now is what happens to the companies getting clobbered in the moment. Is this a short-term blip that is painful but not devastating? Or will this kill companies, thereby having greater repercussions for financial markets, and be much more long-lived in its pain?

    If there’s one takeaway for readers on the global economy, what should it be?

    It’s been said by every person on the planet at this point, but the single best thing for the global economy is for this virus to be contained. More than any fiscal or monetary package, the public health response here is most important.

— Melina and Jonathan Adapted from "Your Wednesday Briefing, The New York Times" <nytdirect@nytimes.com>

[bigyack-com]

Munich air crash hero and goalkeeping great Harry Gregg dies - football

Harry Gregg -- hailed as a hero for saving lives in the air crash which killed eight of Manchester United’s “Busby Babes” in Munich -- has died at the age of 87.Gregg, who was United’s goalkeeper, rescued a mother and her baby daughter, team-mates Bobby Charlton and Jackie Blanchflower and manager Matt Busby from the wreckage of the plane on February 6, 1958.He was back playing for Manchester United just 13 days later against Sheffield Wednesday.Gregg became the world’s most expensive goalkeeper when he joined United in December 1957 for £23,500 and went on to be voted the best at the following year’s World Cup.He was capped 25 times by his country and played 247 times for United from 1957-66.“It is with great sorrow that we inform of the death of Manchester United and Northern Ireland legend Harry Gregg, OBE,” the Harry Gregg Foundation announced on its Facebook page Monday.“Harry passed away peacefully in hospital surrounded by his loving family. The Gregg family would like to thank the medical staff at Causeway Hospital for their wonderful dedication to Harry over his last few weeks.“To everyone who has called, visited or sent well wishes we thank you for the love and respect shown to Harry and the family.”United posted a tribute on their website.“It is with deepest sadness that we have learned of the passing of former player Harry Gregg OBE,” said the club.“The thoughts and prayers of everyone at the club go out to Harry’s family and friends.”‘It was about goodness’Gregg, who legendary United manager Alex Ferguson said was his hero, was humble about his bravery in Munich.“I would be telling lies if I said that I thought about it all the time. In fact I would go insane,” he said in 2018 before a service marking 60 years since the disaster.“I know the media would like to talk about what happened on a runway. I don’t blame people for that, but if all I was ever part of, or all I ever achieved was to do with what happened in Germany, in Munich, if that was what my life was all about, it didn’t come to very much.”It was left to others such as fellow Northern Ireland great George Best -- who cleaned Gregg’s boots -- to sum up his courage. “Bravery is one thing but what Harry did was about more than bravery,” Best wrote in the foreword to Gregg’s autobiography in 2002. “It was about goodness.”The disaster, after a refuelling stop, killed eight of the young side dubbed “the Busby Babes” who had won successive league titles. The crash left manager Matt Busby fighting for his life.The ill-fated aircraft was bringing the team back via Munich from Belgrade after they had reached the European Cup semi-finals.The plane crashed on its third take-off attempt in terrible weather conditions killing 23 people, including three of the club’s backroom staff, two crew, eight journalists and two others.The club recovered to become the first English team to lift the European Cup 10 years later on a deeply emotional night at Wembley.With Gregg’s passing Charlton is the only member of the United group who were on the plane who is still alive. Read the full article