#the amount of head knocks that i see in a game of footy that have never been picked up by the tribunal.... it's really shocking

[fazcinatingblog]

Horrible news about Angus Brayshaw retiring, but before anyone lays blame on a certain Collingwood player, remember that Dale Thomas single handedly ended the career of Jack Watts

[pokerobbo]

Week Three - Fuck Me.

All good things come to an end; Tv Shows have a final episode, Humans have a final breath and the Gold Coast Suns finish taking the season seriously by about round 3 (round 4 if they have played North Melbourne). In fact all things in life have to come to an end at some point (apart from Australia's hated of Collingwood Football Club, or Alf Stewart on home and away). This week marked the end of one of my resolutions.

Health

This week was a good week for me health wise. I was finally able to crack into the 122KG bracket and start noticing changes in my workouts fitness wise. I've upped my treadmill work from 20mins to 30mins and also incorporated hour long evening walks into my routine (in Port Augusta doing that is about as safe as going rawdawg on the biggest slut in town - but hey we've all done it).

Financial

Another week, another payment made on the ole Credit Card bill. If i had any advice for my past self it would be two things; 1. Sleeping with the Chilean girl does not make you culturally sophisticated, it gives you 18 years of debt and lastly don't get a credit card to fund holidays and nights out... find a sugarmumma to foot the bill for you.

Betting

I've said it before and Ill say it again. Gambling is a worse addiction than Meth. At least with Meth you often don't have control over yourself and your actions (look at Andrew O'Keefe from Deal or No Deal - corker show. Shame about the drug addict host).

This week I caved in and had a bet (more on the circumstances in the Mental Health portion of this blog). I'm used to disappointing people; my friends, my family, my colleague on a daily basis (although just know the feelings mutual sistah girl), and lastly every girl that I have ever taken to pound town (all 6 of them. Joking. but maybe not).

Although the amount spent on that bet was rather small I feel disappointed that Gambling was the outlet I chose to pursue for my source of dopamine. Just when I thought that I was well on my way to conquering it; it rears its ugly head and reminds me that it is still there (kinda like when Jehovah's witness knock on ya door, or I get my monthly Child Support statements - but hey at least I'm culturally sophisticated now right?.)

All I can do is not let this de-rail me.

Mental Health

That's right. You read correctly. I am a male that mentioned Mental Health. Kind of bad ass if you ask me given that the general consensus in society is that Men can't have Mental Health concerns; or if they do it because the footy team they support didn't win the big game.

Mental Health struggles are only a new thing for me. They started in 2019. Id spent the better half of the 15 years before then putting on a brave face and 'doing what I had to do' as the 'strong one' whilst I watched my mother struggle with her own mental health (ultimately the cause of her passing), experiencing the loss of several close family members and my siblings over coming their own childhood trauma (don't really have a wise crack to make about any of that; apart from the fact that I suffered my own childhood trauma of my Nan never getting me FrootLoops but making it rain FrootLoops for my cousin Shanno). Sorry for the rambling; but long story short in 2019 life hit me harder than a Rollercoaster hitting Shylah Rodden.

Mental Health is something that I have always been open about because if my story or my struggles can help someone else overcome their own demons then at least some good can come from it. Mental Health is not a Schapelle Corby boogie board and shouldn't be concealed.

Hindsight is a wonderful thing when it comes to Mental Health. If you can see the signs and recognise them, it makes it a whole lot easier to seek the support. There is nothing wrong with using the word 'Support' unless the sentence is 'I support the Collingwood'. In which case I suggest you seek some support.

Again I've gone off on a tangent. Moral of the story is this week has been particularly stressful, it has caused me to seek dopamine by having a bet but I can see the signs and have already put the supports in place to help me get through!

Dont be afraid to speak out, dont be afraid to talk about Mental Health and most importantly dont be afraid to pursue your own personal happiness.

Until next time friends..

[mid-weast]

Will you keep it down? | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: You and Jungkook attend the same university and have been neighbors for 3 months now. It drives you crazy that he plays loud music at 2AM, and it drives him crazy that you barely acknowledge his presence.

Pairing: Jungkook x Female!Reader; Black!Reader

Words: 2.6K

Genre: enemies to lovers, student!jungkook, student!reader, fluff, mention of smut, angst? (in the form of bickering back and forth).

Authors note: Hi hi! This is the first fic I’ve ever written so if it’s bad I’m sorry. Also it is unedited so if there's grammar / spelling mistakes I'm sorry again! Also this is catered toward the reader being Black but I hope it can be enjoyed by everyone. Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated ok love u bye!

“Y/N? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??!? Open this door RIGHT NOW!”

Even though you were studying in your room, his knocks were so loud you nearly jumped out of your skin. You had expected a reaction, but not a full-on explosion.

You and Jungkook have been apartment neighbors for about three months now, and a constant problem is that he blares his music hella loud late at night. Of course he’s a music major so he listens to music a lot, but at this point you don’t care. It doesn’t even seem like he’s working on composition homework anyway, just being an asshole with no regard for his neighbors peace. Now don’t get yourself wrong, you're not just some uptight bitch who complains about everything. Well, you do have several pet peeves but over the years of going to school in Korea you’ve picked and chosen your battles very wisely. In most cases you let things slide. You wouldn’t care at all about someone playing the music loudly, but it is 2 AM, and while you’re up studying you know a lot of your other neighbors are trying to sleep.

You tiptoe toward your front door and twist the knob slowly. You only open the door wide enough to be able to see his face. It’s not that you’re scared that you’re in danger or anything, and you rarely back down from people giving you a hard time. But you were tired, wearing a big ass t- shirt and short shorts (your regular sleep attire), and it was late at night. So if anything was going to pop off you felt pretty vulnerable. Even though you’re the same age, he towers over you and you find his size kinda intimidating.

As usual, you have to crane your neck to see his face, and your view of him is limited by the narrowness in which

you opened the door.

“Can I help you, lil boy?”

From what you can see of him, right away you can tell that he is pissed. Dawning his usual attire of a black sweatshirt with the hood up, black sweats, and stomp a hoe boots, he stood extremely close to your apartment door with his arms crossed. His usually wide, puppy dog eyes are now pressed in narrow slits. His normally pouty lips are formed in a hard line, and his jaw is so clenched you could carve an ice sculpture with his jawline.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You called the cops on me? Are you INSANE???" Jungkook shouts.

Obviously he's mad, and despite the amount of times you've gone back and forth he's never raised your voice at you. The old you would have screamed back at him, but over time you've tried to respond to anger with calmness. Also, you were a little scared because this mf is kind of big.

"I already told you if you keep blaring your music at 2AM, I was going to do something about it!" You respond in a hushed whisper, slightly concerned that your elderly neighbors will be even more disturbed by the noise. "I've told you this a million times, and you barely do anything about it. If anything, it's gotten worse like you're doing it on purpose. People are trying to sleep and I'm trying to study, why is this so hard for you to understand?"

He sucks his teeth. "You're such a little snitch. And I've already told YOU that YOU can't tell me what to do."

"I know I can't...but they can," you nod toward the exit, referring to the police officers that most likely just left out that way with a tiny smirk growing on your face.

If it was possible, he clenched his jaw even harder and you think that he's going to pop a blood vessel. He pushes his way into your apartment, which sends you stumbling back and you grab the door handle to regain your balance. This causes you to close the door shut.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're-"

He steps right up to you and leans down into your face.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, seriously??? Why are you such an annoying little brat? Just because you're a nerd with no friends who gets no play doesn't mean you can take your bitterness out on me.”

You have to laugh in his face at this point because hello??? First of all, who is he talking to? Second of all, you have told him a BUNCH of times to turn his music down late at night. You didn't think that was too much to ask. As far as you were concerned, being aware of your noise level when you live in an apartment is the universal bare minimum for being a human being.

"ME? Who do you think YOU are? Actually let me tell you. You're an entitled little rich boy who thinks he runs the world. I don't give a fuck about how popular you are on campus, how many people fall at your feet to be around you, and how many hoes you have, you cant talk to ME like that. And how are you going to try and tell me about myself when it's too much of a task for you to be a decent neighbor? I've never done anything to blatantly bother you, so why can you just.." You started to panic because usually when you raise your voice out of anger, your voice cracks and tears threaten to pool out of your eyes, but you tried to get a grip and not back down..."why can you just be nice to me so we can live in peace? Is that too hard for you???"

He looked kind of taken aback by your question. Being nice to you? It never crossed his mind. Also, you kind of had a point. When the semester started and you both moved in on the same day, you would shoot him a small, friendly smile in passing but you never seemed interested in getting to know him. He always wondered why that was. It's not that he had a problem talking with girls, since all he had to do was breathe and girls would come flocking around him, but you would flat out ignore him. Even at all the major parties at the beginning of the year and on Thursday nights when students take over the clubs in the city, you'd barely even acknowledge him. He KNEW that you had seen him too, since you would make eye contact, but you acted like he was just another guy at the club.

And he'd be lying if he said you weren't fine. You had thick thighs, a beautiful face, nice curves, and always wore outfits that hugged you in the right places. He always wondered what it would feel like to wrap his arms around your body and press it against his own. He would constantly sneak peaks of you throughout the night at the club, but something stirred in him when he saw that you were chatting up other guys. Was he...jealous? Jealous that you were so eager to pay attention to these dudes who, in his opinion, were decent looking but they were nowhere near his level, and you never even gave him a second thought? One night he even saw you leaving with a man he knew through mutual friends, and he had to physically stop himself from breaking the glass he was holding, because that guy, while objectively handsome, was nothing compared to him. Jungkook wasn't blatantly cocky, but he let his talent, charm, and looks speak for themselves. He was THEE Jeon Jungkook, and nothing ever really bothered him....except you.

Was he....interested in you? Nah, that can't be it. You were some random chick who happened to be his neighbor, who also is one of the only girls he's met that doesn't give two fucks about even having small talk with him, and that infuriated him for some reason. So the first time you came knocking on his door in an adorable pink satin pajama set with a matching bonnet complaining about his loud music, he knew the game he had to play.

He's still standing over you, centimeters away from you face, but you notice that his eyes soften a little and so does his jaw. He unclenches the fists he was holding crossed against his chest

You continue, “I don't care what you do, and I'm DEFINITELY trying to run your messy ass life. Believe me," you scoff, "you don't have enough money to pay me to do that. But when your dickhole behavior fucks with MY life is when it's a problem. And it's BEEN a problem."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever, little girl, maybe I should call you little mouse now, since now I know that you'll go squeaking to the cops now, don't fuck with me or my music again.”

Without moving your head you look him up and down with a confused expression. "Am I supposed to be scared of you? No seriously, you look like you cry during Disney movies while wearing footie pajamas, and now here you are throwing a fit because I forced you to stop bothering the entire wing with your music?"

Girl...what are you saying??? This man just barged into YOUR place, is in your face, and is strong enough to pick you up and throw you, and you’re insulting him? But you figured if he's going to be rude, you'll throw it right back because you're tired of his bullshit.

Whatever softness he was feeling for a fleeting moment immediately left, and annoyance once again washed over. He straightens up a bit and puts on that annoying confident smirk he wears when he thinks he's won arguments between you two.

"You should be nicer to me, all it will take is for me to tweet one thing about you, and you'll be the most hated person on campus."

At this point, any suspicions that you had about him annoying you on purpose were confirmed. You've concluded that this mf is a bully and you, small and shy but not one to take mess, will put him in his place to-motherfucking-night.

You take a step toward him, now crossing your arms tightly against your chest, but he doesn't even move a hair backwards.

"Clearly you need a rude awakening so here it is. I don't know what type of people you've dealt with all your life, always saying yes to you, letting you boss them around and taking whatever bullshit you dish out, but let me tell you I am not the one. Never have been and never will be. Unlike the other fools around here who cream their pants at the mention of your name, I don't care about who you are. You'll respect ME and MY peace as long as we're neighbors, you get me?"

Now y/n, you have never so boldly stood up to someone, where did that come from, babes? You've tried to not let this entitled little boy get to you this whole time, but with him standing in front of you in the middle of your apartment with that extremely annoying, yet handsome, smirk on his face, and after all the crap he's said tonight, he had you all the way fucked up.

After you said that, he just laughed and looked away. Now you’re standing there fuming and confused...was there a joke you missed? You were being dead serious!

"Something funny?" you ask, narrowing your eyes.

"Nothing, just thinking about how I want to face fuck that annoying little mouth of yours so you finally shut up.”

Your jaw almost dropped to the floor. You've never had a guy say something so blatantly rude and vulgar literally inches away from your face. But again, you weren't going to back down.

"Oh really?" Scoffing and tilting your head to the side a bit while narrowing your eyes even more, "I'd very much like to do the same. Maybe then you'll learn your place."

"Oh please, princess, you probably blanch when someone around you even mentions the word sex." He chuckles and leans down close toward your face again and cocks his head to the side, scrunching his nose and in a pouty voice said, "you're fooling no one, but keep trying, maybe you'll get there.”

You're even more annoyed than you were before, if that was even possible. But if he wanted to play this game, you might as well go there with him. It's true, you were a bit more prudent than more, but it pissed you off that he could tell. Regardless, you do know some things to say that could have him leaving with his tail between his legs.

You pouted your lips and in a babying tone said, “Aww sweetheart you have no idea. You think you're big and bad but like I said, you probably cry watching Disney movies. The same way you'd be crying, begging me to let you cum down my throat as I mercilessly toy with your cock for hours.”

Now it's his turn to go pale. Y/n, his stuck up neighbor who has barely even spared him five seconds of her time just threatened to edge him into submission? He has to pinch himself because he must be dreaming....

“Well I-“

“But I don't even think we’d make it that far, hun” you continue, “because in order to humble your egotistical, disrespectful ass, I'm gonna have to ride your face until you suffocate. And when the paramedics come and I have to explain how you died, I won't even hesitate to tell them that you were a punk ass loser who LITERALLY drowned in my pussy!”

You don’t know who this person speaking is, but it is not you. All of the pent up hostility you’ve held towards him just flooded out of you and you couldn’t stop the words from coming out. To be honest you shocked yourself, but you still stood there with your arms crossed and your face unfaltering, just waiting for him to say something smart back.

He stared at you silently, eyes wider than you’ve seen before and his mouth hung slightly open. He wasn’t expecting you to respond with so much fire, but now he wouldn’t be able to sleep until the image you painted came true. His brain said fuck it, and his lips crashed down onto yours. The kiss is sloppy but passionate, and you swore you heard him quietly whimper.

When he feels you starting to kiss back, he smirks into the kiss. Your lips are moving against each other in tandem, and all thoughts about how much you despise the prick fades away. As you uncrossed your arms and placed them on his chest, you could feel his heart beating wildly. Was he as nervous as you were this whole time? You wonder. You knew he was a player, so he was experienced. But the thought that you made him nervous gave you a tiny confidence boost. His hands slowly slide up the sides of your body to sneak behind your back, to pull you further into his chest. As much as your brain was telling you to resist him and push him away, you couldn't help but fall victim to how soft his lips felt against yours. Suddenly you feel airborne as he swiftly reaches down behind your thighs and picks you up. You instinctively gasp but he doesn’t miss a beat, simply biting your lower lip and locking your lips together again.

“Maybe we should test that scenario of yours, and if it comes true, that wouldn’t be the worst way for me to go” he says, doing that annoying but soul-crushingly handsome smirk he likes to wear as he carries you off to your bedroom.

[sweetsubharry]

hey ! sorry to bother you but could you reccomend me some fics of footballer louis?? thank you !! love your acc

Hiya!!  💖you can never bother me!! ^-^ ohmgosh I’m so glad you like my blog! I love footballer louis djskasdhjag tysm(sorry it took soooo long!)

please make sure you read the tags and stay safe everyone!💖

Also these are not in any particular order, however I will say the first two are probably my favourites ;) I have to read them again right after this!

freeze this moment in a frame and stay like this by rosesau

Harry (not so) secretly crushes on the cute footie player and fills pages with sketches of him.

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow by 1Diamondinthesun

Harry spends most of his time in an empty house or a lonely darkroom, dreaming of leaving his small town for art school. He's invisible to most people. And then Louis Tomlinson sees him. Life will never be the same.

Or, the American high school AU loosely inspired by She's All That.

Definition of Beauty by zanni_scaramouche

“Your book is upside down.” Harry nods at Louis’ book, his history text now that he sees it too.

“I’d rather study you.”

They both blink, startled by the slip.

“With you. Study with you,” Louis rushes to say. “Liam says I’m shite at history, can you help?”

Louis’ caught off guard by an omega he nearly takes out with an errant footie ball. It’s not that Louis’ never seen Harry before, it’s that he can’t stop looking, and he’s desperate to figure him out.

Coffee Cups and Football Boots by kimtaedumb

Harry’s stood behind the counter again, but this time he’s painting his nails. Louis strolls up to the counter and, thanks to his no brain-to-mouth filter, blurts out, “Isn’t that a little girlish, Haz?” leaning closer to inspect.

Harry lets out a little huff as his hand slips, “Oh, damn, now I’ve messed it up,” he pouts and turns to Louis, “Why should making myself feel pretty be girly?”

Louis holds up his hands in surrender, “’M not judging, jus’ curious is all.”

(The entirely cheesy and cliché Christmas AU, in which Harry doesn’t give a damn what people think about him – mostly – and Louis may be a little bit in love.

Alternatively, the one in which Harry owns a café that’s barely scraping by and Louis is a footballer and he takes Harry away for Christmas.

Featuring Zayn as a cocky little shit that most definitely needs to be put back in his place, Niall as the loveable Irish dude who drinks too much and flirts with Zayn more than the average girl, and Liam who loves everyone but hates them all at the same time.)

Way in the World by flowsque

When Louis Tomlinson enters the waiting room, Harry can distinctly feel his heart sinking to his stomach. The man's hair is ruffled and dishevelled and his red jersey, damp with sweat from training, clings to his perfect and chiseled body. He stands there, almost unreal, against the glass door, peering inside the office. Harry knew this would’ve happened, sooner or later. That he would have bumped into him. They play for the same club after all, even if they’re in different leagues. It’s not weird. It is not. Except it totally is. - Or, the one where Harry has a knee injury and an embarrassing crush on Manchester United's pretty number ten.

I Long For You by AnotherAnonymousWriter

Thirty minutes later, he's sat on a bench in Hyde Park with a book in his lap and a travel mug with hot tea in his hand. Not far from where he's sat, a group of boys are playing football and a bunch of children are chasing each other. Life is good.

Or at least, life is good until he hears a familiar “LOOK OUT!” and sees a football flying in the direction of his face.

And then everything is black.

(Harry gets hit in the head by various objects and falls for a boy with blue eyes.)

ease the quiet and talk me down by cabinbythesea

Harry's a model and Louis' a footie player.

(Louis teaches Harry some football and Harry is insanely good at giving a lapdance).

Baby, It's You by Bearandleonardwrite

"Oh, yeah. Um..” Harry lets his hands fall to his sides. His brows furrow, face full of concern, and he asks, “You’re not, like, stalking me, are you?”

Louis can’t help the loud cackle that escapes his lips and immediately slaps one of his hands over his mouth to muffle the sound. “Oh my god, Harry, no!” Louis tells him, a little breathlessly, giggles still bubbling out of his chest. “Lottie’s one of the makeup artists here today and she somehow got me to agree to come. I had no idea you modeled for, uh.. this brand until I saw you walk.”

“Oh,” Harry says dumbly, eyebrows still pinched. He lets what Louis just said sink in before a bright grin takes over his face and he goes back to doing up the buttons on his shirt. “Well, that’s alright, then. I’m glad you could make it.

(Basically, Louis' a footie player for Man U and Harry's a YSL model. They meet at a masquerade.)

Touch by kotabear24

Harry's shy and virginal with a past, new on the football team; Louis' the (experienced) popular star of the team and Harry's new mentor.

Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)

He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha��s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

see the truth (it's me for you) by orphan_account

If you asked Louis the first day of his French Literature class what he’d be doing on the last, he’d probably never have guessed it would involve helping a poorly Harry Styles study for the final exam. Good thing he’s not a betting man.

(Or the one where Louis and Harry spend an entire semester ignoring each other after a one-night stand, only to come face to face when Harry manages to catch the stomach flu during finals week. Sometimes fate is funny like that.)

Use Your Words by zedi

based off this prompt: collage au where jock!harry always serenades flowercrown!louis with love songs in their music class. what nobody knows is that harry actually kinda means the words he sings.

But instead it's Louis as the jock and Harry as the flowerchild because I do what I want.

Stop The World (I Wanna Get Off With You) by ilikepianos

"You like this, don't you?", he asks breathlessly.

What? Sucking cock? Being dominated? Yes, all of that. A big fat yes.

Harry nods, lips still wrapped around Louis' throbbing dick.

Louis' lips curl into a smirk. "Keep going then. You're doing amazing, love."

OR: The uni-football AU where Harry may or may not have a minor crush on the captain of the team and suddenly discovers that the feeling is very much mutual.

Picture Perfect by LittleBubbleStyles

an AU where Louis Tomlinson is a misunderstood football player, and Harry Styles is a misunderstood photographer. Somehow, they're understood together.

I just think about my baby; I'm so full of love I could barely eat by mercutionotromeo

Harry and Louis are six hundred miles apart, but they have the same solutions to the same problem.

Or: a masturbation drabble featuring pillow humping, locker rooms, and copious amounts of dirty talk.

into another (another) serotonin overflow by mercutionotromeo

Harry wants this year to be different - wants it to be the year that he finally gets over this stupid crush. He’s going to uni, he needs to decide what he wants to do with his life.

Instead, he’s deciding what he wants to do to Louis Tomlinson.

Or: Sweet first time sex wherein Harry's adorably awkward, Louis is achingly cool, and Harry rides Louis wearing his jersey.

note: it says it in the tag but this is the edited version written in 2019, rather than the 2017 original- so there’s two put I put the link for the newest one :)

need a little sweetness in my life by mercutionotromeo

Harry's always liked feeling desperate and small when Louis touches him, but when he sucks Harry off...it’s fucking otherworldly. Desperate’s not really the word at that point - it’s helpless. Like… like the fucking world could stop spinning and Harry wouldn’t be able to do anything about it until Louis finished him off with his lips and his tongue.

Or, Harry and Louis go to university together. Harry really likes it when Louis sucks him off, and Louis really likes it when Harry calls him Daddy.

(Sequel to "into another serotonin overflow")

I made a map of your stars by brightbluelou

Harry does not have a crush on Louis Tomlinson. Yes, Louis is very pretty and funny, and Harry may have had more than a few inappropriate thoughts about him, but he certainly doesn’t like him. (Except for the fact that he totally does.) or, Harry is the shy boy in the back of the class that no one really notices. Louis is the loud, outgoing football player that everybody likes.

We Made These Memories for Ourselves by supernope

Breath held, Harry squints his eyes open and focuses on the first stick. A blue line. Harry breathes out an unsteady breath. He’s pretty sure he read that one blue line is a negative, but he fishes the box from the bottom of the pile just to make sure.

“Negative,” he confirms, voice echoing around the small room. “Next.”

Now that he’s feeling a little less shaky, he scans the rest of the tests at once, is met with a headache-inducing mixture of pink plus signs and blue double lines. His heart rate picks up until it’s pounding triple-time in the base of his throat and the pit of his stomach, thundering in his ears and throbbing in his temples. He flips over the rest of the boxes slowly, but he knows what they’re going to say before he even looks.

[or, Louis is a footballer, Harry owns a bakery, and they're having a baby.]

Kiss Me on the Mouth and Set Me Free by ls2k14   

Louis has his head thrown back in a laugh, his wet fringe hanging in front of his eyes, and a beautiful flush to his cheeks. From this angle, the sun hits his face just right to where the beams of light are shining in between the spaces of each individual clump of watered down eyelashes. His chest is showing through the soaked material of his white jersey and it seems that his biceps are attempting to break free from the sleeves that are clinging to his skin.

And Harry can do nothing except take it all in. He doesn’t even think he’s breathing at this point. He is literally stuck in place, admiring the true beauty of Louis Tomlinson, while being surrounded by fit footballers and generally attractive people. He doesn’t think he’s ever been in love before, but if Louis let him, he’s pretty damn sure he could change that in the matter of a few nanoseconds.

[marblesarelost]

Change Your Mind, Change Your Life

                                                     Chapter 8

The next morning, Darcy scooped up the last bite of her cereal, watching an episode of The Herculoids in the common room.  She judged the amount of milk left in the bowl with a practiced eye; not quite enough for more cereal.  Sad.  She lifted the bowl, slurping a little as she drank the milk down, burping contentedly when it was gone.  "Stay classy, Artoo," Tony said behind her, and she giggled. "You know it. You gonna veg out with me today?"  She leaned backwards over the back of the couch, looking at him upside down. "I don't do cartoons. What's in the TV Guide for the afternoon?" Tony asked, grinning at her and coming all the way into the common room, hiking a hip up onto the side of the couch. 

"Creature Feature?" Darcy offered. "I Was A Teenaged Werewolf and Godzilla with subtitles?" "Make it both Godzilla?" Tony asked, and Darcy pouted, her bottom lip sticking out. "Oh come on --" "Darcy," Steve's voice rang out from the hall. "You busy?" "Yep!" She replied. "Watching brainless TV and pretending the outside world doesn't exist for the day, Steve." Tony frowned as Steve came in, jumped onto the couch. "Share the blanket," he said, grabbing some of the brightly patterned fabric.  He looked down at said pattern, then back up at her, raising an eyebrow.   “Falcon?" "Tech enhanced and studly, this way no blow to your ego or Steve's," she shrugged. Tony considered, nodded. "Makes sense. So, Herculoids?" "Space Ghost next or the Tarzan/Zorro/Lone Ranger Hour?" She asked brightly. Tony saw Steve shaking his head out of the corner of his eye, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "Space Ghost.  Are you Jan or Blip?" "Definitely Blip. He saves everybody all the time," Darcy said, nodding firmly. "Steve, why are you still standing? You can't watch cartoons standing." "I'm not watching cartoons," Steve said, though he glanced at the screen. "There's Zorro?" "The Zorro/Lone Ranger/Tarzan Hour," Darcy replied helpfully. "I think it lasted two seasons in the eighties, and then Filmation did a reboot in the late 90s, early 2000s." "Thanks. Look, Darcy --“ Steve began, and she held up her hand. "Am I about to get a lecture?" "Not a lecture," Steve said. "I want to know why you didn't tell us about the situation in Eastern Europe escalating." "One; the Avengers are not the parents of the world, two, I asked him if he wanted you to know and he said no, and three, I know damn good and well you were briefed on the situation within an hour of my having the information so four, fuck off and let me watch cartoons." Darcy said the last with a bright, toothy smile, one that Tony recognized a bit too well; you don’t have the right to give me shit, was the sentiment behind that kind of smile. "I was not informed that you had gone on a date with him the evening before," Steve said, frowning. "Listen, Darce, I'm sure there's lots of perfectly nice guys in New York, heck, that work in the building, that would love to date you." "Wait." Darcy paused the cartoon and looked up at Steve. "Are you trying to tell me who I can date, Steve?" "I just.." He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight awkwardly. "He's not a good guy, Darce.” Tony watched all of this avidly, his gaze switching back and forth between the two, picking up the box of Lucky Charms beside Darcy and popping some into his mouth before it hit him, and he snickered. "I said I'm jealous, I'm jealous again," he sang, and Darcy paled. "Is that what this is?" She asked, slowly pushing the comforter off her lap and rising to her feet to face Steve. "Are you jealous, Steve?" "I just don't think you're thinking this through is all," Steve said. "He's talking a great game and he's got kind of a dangerous thing about him, gals like that, I knew a girl in Brooklyn who dated one of Meyer Lansky's friends because of that." "Hey.  Steve.  Stop now.  You're just digging yourself deeper," Tony said, watching Darcy's face turn a mottled red. "Too late, you're fucked, been nice knowing you." "First," Darcy hissed, "you're not my dad, my grandpa, my brother, or even my cousin. And even if you were, you still wouldn't have the right to tell me who I can date, fuck, kiss, make out with or go down on. You got that, Rogers?"   "I'm just --"

"Second," she interrupted him, poking him with her fingernail, "if you wanted a fucking date, you've seen me every day for the last year, you could have asked any time. I might have said yes. I might not have. I never really thought about it, because," she poked in time with her next few words, "you. Never. Asked." "Do you think that's all this is? Me being jealous? I'm just concerned because he's a dictatorial super villain and you're a civilian member of the support team.  I'm concerned what kind of information he might be able to get out of you.  I'm concerned about the safety of the team, and your safety." "You were scared to ask," she said, shaking her head. "And now you're jealous because someone else did. Someone you don't approve of.  Someone you think isn't good for me.  And you're using the other as a cover." She stepped away from him, still shaking her head. "We're done, Steve. If I keep talking, we won't be friends anymore." She reached for her blanket, folded it over her arm, and walked out, strangely dignified for someone wearing footie pajamas. "Tony -" Steve began, but Tony shook his head, standing up. "You fucked up, Rogers. You fucked up hard." He walked out as well, heading for his workshop. Once there, he called Pepper.  "Pepper. Go check on Darcy, would you?" "What's wrong?" "Steve said some shit about her and Doom.  I probably didn't help." "Tony..." Pepper sighed, and he quickly defended himself. "All I said was that Rogers was jealous." "Okay," Pepper replied. "I'll check in with her." "Take her shopping. Do something." "And what will you be doing?" "I'm gonna find something to work on, or else I'm gonna punch Rogers myself.  It wasn't pretty, Pep." "Okay."

Darcy stomped through her apartment, seething. He wasn't even her boyfriend. One date. One. She'd expected a lecture, she'd expected a quiet conversation between friends, she'd expected better. Instead, Captain Motherfucking America had given her the equivalent of the "nice guy" speech. "Bastard," she muttered, flopping into the overstuffed ugly chair she’d thrifted, shaking her head. Jealous.  He was jealous. "Fucker should have said something," she sighed at the ceiling. "He should have. He should have said something."  She closed her eyes, tried to calm her breathing. "Fucker." A knock at the door jarred her out of her reverie. "Who is it?" "Pepper." "Let her in, FRIDAY." The door clicked open, and Pepper slipped in, closing the door firmly behind her before kneeling in front of Darcy, smiling gently. "You okay?" "Yep.  Peachy keen." Darcy bared her teeth. It wasn't a smile. "Tony told me." "Figured." "You knew not everyone would approve." "I knew he wouldn't," Darcy said, sitting up, leaning forward. "But trying to hide his jealousy behind concern for the team is bullshit." "True.  And you did the right thing, walking away." "I'm a grownup," Darcy nodded. "I didn't slap him. Even when he intimated I don't know what I'm doing." "Do you?" "No. But does anybody, when it comes to dating?" "Good point," Pepper agreed. "Want to go shopping? We'll get something lovely and elegant for the next time you see Victor.  Tony’s dime." "Yes," Darcy agreed. "Something in green."

The reinforced heavy bag shook with every punch, Steve's labored breathing echoing in his ears as he poured his frustrations into physical activity.  "Hey," he heard from behind him, and turned to see Sam standing there, hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Bad day?" One last punch. "Darcy's dating Doom." Sam tossed him a towel, and he wiped the sweat from his face. "I...didn't handle it well." "You didn't see the chemistry between them the other night after the fight at the pool?" Sam asked, and Steve looked away. "You did." "He's a dictator, Sam. Rules his country with an iron fist, what would he do with a swell dame like Darcy?" Steve crossed to the fridge, took out a bottle of water, drank it down in a few gulps, took out another and drank half of that. "He seemed okay the other night," Sam began. "Isn't he changing stuff in Latveria? Moving toward democracy?" "So he says," Steve snapped. "I've got legitimate concerns, Sam. Sure, he's saying all the right things right now, but what if he's not playing straight?  Heck, how long until he gets a wild hair to go after Sue Richards again?  At best, Darcy's a distraction to a guy like him.  And I don't want to see her hurt." "Wow." Sam shook his head in disbelief. "Let's start with why you're so upset over this." "She's a member of the support team.  She lives here.  She's got a lot of info that Doom could use against us," Steve said, keeping his gaze on the bottle in his hand. "Nothing to do with the way you watch her sometimes," Sam said dryly. "Nope, you're not jealous." "My personal feelings aren't involved," Steve snapped. "This is purely about the team and about her value to it.  Do you think I don't know that everyone seems to see her as a sort of baby cousin or baby sister?  She charms Tony, she soothes Natasha and Clint, she does Wanda's hair --" "She does Bruce's dictation, she is literally Thor's adopted sister, and she plays video games with me and Clint," Sam finished.  "She set up movie night for you, and she's teaching Vision how to knit, getting him used to tactile sensations and how to gauge his strength.  Yeah, Steve.  We all love her in our way.  But you notice nobody else is freaking out because she had a date with Doom." "Natasha knew.  Natasha helped her get ready," Steve said, shaking his head. "I don't understand how she of all people isn't seeing this as --" "Natasha isn't interested in her," Sam said flatly. "You are. And you're jealous, and you're angry with yourself because you think you waited too long." Steve's jaw jutted out, but he stayed quiet.  "Darcy likes you.  But Steve, as hard as it is for you to hear, she doesn’t like you like that."  

“She doesn’t have to, I’m not standing here saying she has to, I just -- he’s not -- he’s not right for her. He’s not,” Steve insisted, and Sam shrugged.

“Here’s the thing, Steve.  You’re a hero, you’re an all around good guy, but you can’t see the future.  You don’t know that.  You don’t know that he’s not gonna be good to her.  You don’t know how this is going to end, if it’s going to end. She might break up with him.  She might marry his ass.  We don’t know, and you know what?  That’s not on us,” Sam pointed out, half-smiling.  “It’s not on us, man.  She’s a grown-ass woman, okay.  She’ll make her own choices.  And she might end up with a broken heart, but you know what?  Those heal.  If he goes chasing after Sue Richards again, I don’t have any doubt but what Darcy will get ‘Tasha or Clint to fly her to Latveria, she’ll tell him off to his face and come home and eat ice cream and get over it.  She’s a grownup.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not a security concern,” Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest.  “He’s still an unknown at this time.  Okay, I can’t say he’s an enemy, I can say I don’t know him, and based on his past, I don’t trust him.”

“Nobody says you have to. You just have to trust Darcy.” Sam clapped Steve on the arm.  “Come on.  Let’s go get a shake.”  Slowly, Steve nodded and headed to the locker room.

 DOOMBOT BRIGADE 1328 ONLINE.

…..WORKING….

UPDATE DOWNLOADED.  PLEASE STAND BY FOR INSTALLATION.

…WORKING….

INSTALLATION COMPLETE. ORDERS WITHIN PARAMETERS. ACCEPTED.

The line of sleek metal war machines spread out, a faint blue glow about them as they began to advance toward the enemy’s position, the Ukrainian general watching from behind the lines via satellite feed.  The once serene field echoed with gunfire within seconds, the Soviet forces opening up on the advancing robots, their green and chrome metallic bodies slender, but still making fantastic targets.  Nothing happened.  The machine gun fire didn’t slow them, didn’t stop them.  An artillery shell’s whine was heard, then the explosion seen, driving up dirt, grass, debris.  The line didn’t stop, simply walking through the crater left by the shelling, relentlessly moving forward.

“Advance behind the ‘bots,” the general ordered.  “Slowly. Artillery, take their bearings and the force field into consideration as you figure trajectory.”  The Ukrainian forces fell in behind their robotic allies, the infantry nervously looking around, wincing at the sound of gunfire ahead of them, weapons at the ready.  The artillery boomed behind them, arcing up and well over the Doombots at targets beyond them.  

APPROACHING OPTIMAL RANGE. WEAPONS CHARGED.  ENGAGE ENEMY?

The general tapped “yes” on his tablet.

COMMAND ACCEPTED.  ENGAGING ENEMY COMBATANTS.

Five thousand rifles rose in steel hands.  Five thousand visual sensors found targets.  Five thousand laser rifles began to fire as the Doombots kept walking.

WOUNDED ENEMY COMBATANTS. CAPTURE YES/NO?

The general swallowed, tapping yes.

COMMAND ACCEPTED. DISENGAGING 100 UNITS FOR CAPTURE/CONTAINMENT.  FIELD AID YES/NO?

Yes again.

COMMAND ACCEPTED.  ENEMY COMBATANTS RETREATING/RETRENCHING. PURSUE YES/NO?

No.  The orders were clear; let the first few skirmishes retreat and send word back in hopes that the Soviet would realize they no longer held the upper hand, and would sue for peace.

COMMAND ACCEPTED. WARNING.  WARNING.  AIR STRIKE APPROACHING, APPROXIMATELY TWO MINUTES UNTIL ARRIVAL.  ENGAGE FLIGHT CAPACITY YES/NO?

Yes.

A third of the brigade stopped in their tracks, their legs locking together, slowly rising into the air until they reached about fifty feet off the ground, then cutting through the sky as easily and as quickly as a bird, heading toward the approaching bombers and jets.

“Jesus Christ,” the general’s aide muttered, watching as the Doombots dealt out death, seemingly unstoppable.  “Thank fuck he’s on our side.  How many of these do you think he has?”

“What, robots or brigades of robots?”  The general muttered.  “Who knows?” The aide shook her head, eyes glued to the screens.

“Thanks so much for making me feel better.”

“I’m not trying.  Doom is a genius.  And just think, these are only the field troops.  Have you seen the elite forces?”

“No.  Do I want to?”  She asked. In response, the general slid his tablet page over two pages.

“The elite forces are carbon copies of Doom’s armor,” he began, holding out the tablet so she could see. “Robotic, so they have none of his special talents, but they are capable of independent thought, they don’t rely solely on orders.  They command his field forces in Latveria, and it’s said they have more abilities than the ground pounders.”

“Dear God.”  She shook her head.  “Attacking Latveria --“

“Would be, is folly.  No one knows how many of these he has, no one knows how many of the field troops he has.  All of that is secret.  Not to mention the force field generators throughout the country.”

“Again.  Thank God he’s on our side.”

 Victor smiled to himself, watching through the cameras in the visual sensors of the ground troops as they engaged the Soviet throughout Ukraine, looking for weaknesses, areas to improve.  There was always room for improvement.  “Status report.”

FORCE FIELDS HOLDING.  BATTERY CAPABILITY RANGING FROM 80 TO 95 PERCENT.

“Current losses?”

CURRENT LOSSES AT LESS THAN THREE PERCENT, was the answer from one of the Doppelganger Doombots.

“Excellent.  What caused those?”

WIRING DISLODGED DUE TO SHOCK FROM ARTILLERY/BOMBING, FAULTY BATTERY, FAULTY SERVO GEARS IN JOINT AREAS.

“Have the faulty units returned to the technicians,” he ordered.  “Delegate two units per compromised unit for recovery and return operations.”

AS DOOM COMMANDS, the Doppelganger unit bowed its head.  

“What is the situation in Poland?”

ALL DOOMBOTS ARE IN POSITION FOR INTERCEPTION.  NEW PROGRAMMING HAS BEEN DOWNLOADED, INSTALLED, UPDATED.  AWAITING ENEMY COMBATANTS.

“Excellent.  Continue current operational plans.”

 The Ukrainian commanders were effusive in their praise.  The casualty rate had been cut by eighty percent, every skirmish had ended with the Russian forces being forced into retreat, and they had taken back a full twenty miles of front.  “It’s a slow process,” one of them said with a shrug.  “And this is open terrain; I’m not looking forward to clearing cities, even with your ‘bots, Lord Doom.  If you’ll forgive my plain speech,” the man added, looking a little chagrined as he remembered his manners.

“Good soldiers speak plainly,” Victor replied, nodding.  “Taking cities is always a difficult endeavor, major, especially when civilians are at risk, and provocateurs are easily hidden.”

“We’ll work out the strategy,” one of the other commanders said.  “One of the main issues is sniper fire.  They won’t hurt the ‘bots, of course, but the men coming in behind them.”

“The Doombots are fully capable of flushing out sniper nests by tracing the line of fire,” Victor informed them.  “And then flushing out the nests.”

“We’ll work it out,” the commander repeated, though he was jotting that down.  “But so far, Lord Doom, your aid has been invaluable.”  

“Better to put out my neighbor’s fire than to wait until my own wagon catches,” Victor paraphrased one of his people’s sayings.  “My only regret is that it took so long.”

“The past is past, let it stay there,” another interjected, shrugging his shoulders, and they went on to discuss their next strategies.

When the teleconference was finished, he studied the battlefield, gauged the response of the New Soviet, and called for one of the Doppelganger units.  “I must be away for a few hours,” he said.  “Inform me immediately if anything changes.”

YES, LORD DOOM.

Stay Tuned, True Believers!

[junker-town]

What is the world’s best soccer rivalry?

Photo via Getty Images / Illustrated by Karyim Carreia

We discussed our favorite rivalries from best ever to most underreated.

While rivalries are a staple of literally every sport, a solid argument can be made that no group of fans has embraced them quite like soccer. There are, of course, plenty of local “derbies” around the globe, but what differentiates soccer is how many of the rivalries are international.

In honor of Rivalry Week, we recently assembled some of the greatest soccer minds from around SB Nation to discuss their favorites.

Here is who participated: Donald Wine II, Stars and Stripes FC Gill Clark, Barca Blaugranes Kudzi Musarurwa, Dirty South Soccer Rob Usry, Dirty South Soccer Mark Kastner, Sounder at Heart and Liverpool Offside Eugene Rupinski, FMF State of Mind Aaron Lerner, The Short Fuse Tito Kohout, (Viola Nation) Brent Maximin (The Busby Babe)

El Clásico might be the best rivalry overall but does it ever live up to the hype?

Donald Wine II: The history between Real Madrid and Barcelona is off the charts, and it, to me, is the biggest and best in the world. Each match is epic, features some of the world’s greatest players, and is never short of drama. What other match have people scrambling to find out how to obtain beIN Sports for one day?!

Gill Clark: The thing is it very, very rarely fails to deliver. There are almost always goals (this season’s 0-0 was the first since 2002 — almost 20 years) and usually a red card or two and sometimes even a pig’s head chucked from the stands.

Donald Wine II: When you think about some of the world’s greatest players of all time, many of them have played in this rivalry: Leo Messi, Cristiano Ronaldo, Ronaldo, Ronaldinho, Figo, Samuel Eto’o. I remember a few weeks ago we were doing that game of name a starting XI with greats that didn’t play for the same club, and Real and Barca blew everyone’s starting XIs up, lol.

Eugene Rupinski: For people who swear sports aren’t political, they should look into the history of Barça-Real Madrid. It’s part of what makes it such a big deal.

Aaron Lerner: Yeah — there are big time politics wrapped up in El Clásico, and that gets pretty ugly. Catalan separatism versus Francoist-influenced Spanish nationalism is still very much alive and kicking.

Donald Wine II: Hell, the 0-0 draw that was mentioned was postponed from its original date because of Catalan protests that threatened the security of the stadium. It ended up being played in December instead of October. They’re also two of the richest clubs in the world, and they consistently earn the most revenue.

On an internal SB Nation survey Boca-River showed up a lot, even though it’s probably a rivalry that a lot of general sports fans don’t know about. Anyone want to explain what makes it special?

Kudzi Musarurwa: The passion from the fans and the players is something that’s barely replicated anywhere else in the world. When people say football can be life or death, I always think of this rivalry and agree.

Rob Usry: There’s no doubt that Boca-River is a fantastic rivalry, but at what point can a rivalry be too intense? I feel like if there’s a legitimate threat of someone dying anytime the two teams play then it might be too out of control.

Aaron Lerner: The level of hatred between Boca-River and their fans is off the charts. Not to glorify supporter clashes in any way, but that derby led to wide-scale riots and a match being moved literally out of the country.

Photo by Marcelo Endelli/Getty Images

Mark Kastner: Didn’t they have to move the final between them to Madrid last year?

Aaron Lerner: Yes. They moved it across a literal ocean.

Donald Wine II: Boca-River is INTENSE as hell. You can feel the passion in any stadium. It may be too intense. It’s because of these matches that Argentina banned fans at away matches nationwide. But, that passion can be felt in your soul through your TV set or computer.

Eugene Rupinski: CABJ vs. River is probably the biggest rivalry on this side of the planet. It’s gotten very ugly at times, but it is an unfortunate reflection of the passion and intensity of the fans. Everyone knows the weight of those games; the players, fans, hinchas, fans across the globe and casual observers. You know how much that game means when it comes around.

Aaron Lerner: River Plate-Boca Juniors is intertwined with soccer identity in Argentina. You may have your own team, but you’re for one or the other. It touches politics, economics; that derby has tendrils wrapped up in everything in the country.

Donald Wine II: Also, I think sometimes the stadiums and atmosphere can help make a rivalry. When someone asks for a list of stadiums they most want to see a match in, La Bombonera is on just about everyone’s list. When someone asks for a list of stadiums they most want to die in, is at the top of everyone’s list.

Brent Maximin: Boca vs. River is the derby that is on most football fan’s bucket list. The history of the fixture, the relative quality of both teams over the years, and of course the fan experience.

What are the best rivalries on the women’s side either on the international or club level?

Donald Wine II: The USWNT’s biggest rivalry is Canada, then Mexico. But lately they haven’t been great rivals because they get smoked all the time. I will say, budding rivalries are forming with England and France, though.

Eugene Rupinski: The thing with international women’s soccer is that the US has almost always been the top dog and there’s been a rotating cast trying to knock them off but no one has been able to sustain it.

I think one to watch will be the US vs. Mexico. The US is unquestionably the best in the world and it’s not really close. Mexico though has put a lot of money and time and effort into growing and professionalizing the women’s game and it’s starting to pay off. Players are going to Europe to play and Mexico has also utilized the US collegiate system and dual nationals to bolster the program.

Aaron Lerner: It’s more of a past rivalry now, but on the women’s side, I’d shoutout Norway-U.S.A. Norway handed the USWNT their first big defeat on the international stage (and went on to win that ‘95 Women’s World Cup). For a few years, they were a bonafide rival to our women, and that rivalry served as my introduction to women’s international soccer.

Kudzi Musarurwa: During the Pia days, the USWNT’s rivals were Sweden. That rivalry lasted until last year to be honest.

Rob Usry: France/USWNT is my personal favorite. Feel like every game between them is top quality. But I can’t justify it as the best since it’s still fledgling.

Or USWNT vs. US Soccer.

Donald Wine II: LOL, he’s right though.

Tito Kohout: To piggyback on Rob, really any women’s team against the absurd levels of incompetent sexism rampant throughout the sport.

For the women in Serie A, I’ll submit Fiorentina-Juventus. The men’s side carried over, plus there’s the fact that Fiorentina had the first pro(-ish because Italy) women’s team attached to a men’s club and won a bunch of trophies before Juve added one of their own, outspent them, and have become the best team on the peninsula.

Donald Wine II: Real Madrid just picked up a women’s team last year, and it was officially renamed Real Madrid last week. When I last spoke with club president Florentino Perez last summer, he said the club’s intent was to put €20 million into salaries for the women’s team in an effort to be on the level of Barca and Atletico Madrid immediately. So, look for those rivalries to grow in intensity.

Eugene Rupinski: I think Tigres vs. Monterrey is probably the best though. They average a crazy amount of fans, and have won more stars than other team in Liga MX Femenil.

Photo by Andrea Jimenez/Jam Media/Getty Images

Mark Kastner: Liverpool Women vs. Fenway Sports Group (the club’s owner).

Aaron Lerner: Michelle Akers vs. anybody who tried to come through the center of the U.S. formation.

What are your favorite international rivalries?

Mark Kastner: Messi-era Argentina vs. trying to win a big tournament has been very enjoyable. It always starts with promise but ends up in crushing defeat

Tito Kohout: Most of the South American ones feel really intense to me, especially the ones involving Argentina and Brazil.

Brent Maximin: Argentina-Brazil. Even if it very often failed to live up the hype, those two nations live and breathe football and for decades each has claimed to have THE best player of all time. THE number 10.

Donald Wine II: US-Mexico is my favorite, but other great ones are Argentina-Brazil and England-Germany, though with England-Germany, we don’t get it as often.

Gill Clark: I go with Netherlands vs. Germany because they really can’t stand each other.

Ronald Koeman wipes his bum with Olaf Thon's West Germany shirt at Euro ’88.. IMAGINE THAT HAPPENED THESE DAYS pic.twitter.com/tcX8iqtBiA

— Footy Accumulators (@FootyAccums) June 10, 2016

Rob Usry: I tried to think of one that isn’t obviously biased. But couldn’t come up with one. Mexico-USA is always high stakes and intense (unless it’s a cash-grab friendly). The bragging rights for each set of fan bases is precious. Surely there are better quality rivalries in Europe and Brazil-Argentina is great. But Mexico-USA is just a step below the World Cup as far as importance goes.

Tito Kohout: I think that all of the ones that involve crazy non-sports relationships (USA-Mexico, Ireland-Northern Ireland, DPRK-South Korea, Greece-Turkey, etc.) are probably the craziest to me just because of all the off-field stuff that gets packed in too.

Feel like any UEFA matches involving England could get really weird after Brexit, too.

Gill Clark: England vs. Argentina is probably worth a shout. There’s the Maradona handball, the Beckham sending off, Michael Owen’s goal (22 years ago today!) and obviously the history between with two countries.

Tito Kohout: I think part of it is that internationals are less common and that the quality of play is frequently lower because they don’t have as much time to train together, too. Seems like it leads to a lot of really tense, ugly games. Not sure if those result in more fan badness than really “good” games, but that’d be sort of interesting to look at.

Kudzi Musarurwa: Ooo, I just remembered a major international one-two: Egypt vs. Algeria or Egypt vs. Tunisia. I remember the AFCON held in Egypt (iirc) and it was the fiercest international rivalry I’d seen in a long time. Those countries hate each other

Donald Wine II: The North African ones are great. Throw in the Nigeria-Ghana-Ivory Coast-Cameroon battles that have been around forever. Ghana, FWIW, might be America’s second rival if you poll fans.

Australia-New Zealand back in the day when they both ruled Oceania.

What are some other rivalries we love?

Liverpool vs. Manchester United

Mark Kastner: Liverpool vs. Manchester United is a derby that transcends just football. It’s two cities that have a lot in common but have some very distinct differences in their approaches to life and football. Both teams have dominated English football during different decades, defining what we think about the game. The matches themselves are always really tense and full of passion. It’s wild that we’ve only ever had one title race between the two teams.

Liga MX’s América vs. Chivas

Eugene Rupinski: For me, it’s Liga MX’s América vs. Chivas. The two clubs who have more stars on their shirt than anyone else. The two most watched clubs in North America. It’s the cultural rivalry between Mexico City and Guadalajara and the rivalry of a diverse lineup against one made entirely of Mexican players with the pageantry of the American Super Bowl (at least) twice a year. Is it the fiercest in the world? No. Is it the most hyped? No. But it is the one that to me is the best because of what it means to so many in both the US and Mexico.

What about some underrated rivalries?

Donald Wine II: For an underrated rivalry, gimme the Soweto Derby (South Africa’s Kaizer Chiefs vs. Orlando Pirates). Kaizer Chiefs is a team with American roots (the founder named it after the Atlanta Chiefs, who he left Orlando Pirates to play for before returning to South Africa to start the Chiefs) and each match is fierce on the field and in the stands.

Mark Kastner: Notable shout for Portland vs. Seattle in MLS. Any time you have a player rip up a referee’s notebook IN A GAME, the rivalry must be intense.

Tell us about your favorite rivalries in the comments below!

[getseriouser]

20 THOUGHTS: Les Bleus triumph despite Bolton as coach

THANK you Croatia.

Whilst this column had no vested interest in the result of Monday morning’s final, and whilst sad for Croatian fans we aren’t devastated personally.

But for preventing the utter implosion of society as we know it if the English got to the final obstacle, had made the final with a chance to win it all, we can’t be more appreciative.

Avoiding that though has given no solace to those heavies at Princes Park, that pain and suffering doesn’t look like remedying itself anytime soon..

1.       The Pies have done well this year to have the record they do with the injuries they’ve endured, particularly as mentioned last week being number one in the league for games lost. Last Sunday, when it really mattered, fielding a few players that probably didn’t deserve or warrant a game but were out there because so many others were unavailable through injury might have cost them in the end.

2.       As a result we see Jeremy McGovern getting all the plaudits for a great game. He played on Brody Mihocek in a forwardline that was basically centered around a first-year player who isn’t a tall forward but through makeshift design being asked to play like one. If McGovern didn’t take a tonne of marks last Sunday you’d drop him to the WAFL, let’s be steady on the enormous praise.

3.       The real key for the Eagles on the day though was the return of half of their forward line at once. West Coast’s record in 2018 when all of Kennedy, Darling and LeCras play is nine wins from nine games. When one or more of the three miss is three wins from seven. Percentage-wise, with all three 143.79%, 99.14% otherwise.

4.       Sling tackle on Robbie Gray, can't do much differently, pin arms crucial to not allowing the tackled player to get a disposal, was he too firm, perhaps, was it holding the ball, absolutely. Do we get to a stage where duty of care means you must allow the player you're tackling a free arm? We don't want players knocked out, but from a technique perspective, I'm not sure what the perfect alternative would be? Yes, there was a sense of sling about it, but it wasn’t the old fashioned rugby league pick up and turn, it was all in essence, especially in real time against the harshness of slow mo, one motion. Hate the injury, but if it was Sam Gray, and not Robbie, and he got up instead of being concussed, its not even a fine.

5.       Speaking of which, how many fines?! We like less suspensions, sure, but if you just measure on reports that result in sanctions, given the amount of fines being handed out each and every week the sport’s never been dirtier? Or are we just going too silly with $1000 here and $2000 there? The latter for mine.

6.       "Geelong champion Jimmy Bartel says the AFL should consider having an "independent list analyser" in a bid to fast track rebuilds."

"I think there should be someone in the AFL football department, they got teams of thousands down there at HQ, that should be almost an independent list analyser of clubs because that's where clubs get themselves in biggest trouble".

Jim. No.

7.       James Sicily injury, who is an AA lock to this point, will really hurt the Hawks. Yes, their run home is soft, but still, he has a massive influence with or without the ball. Top five on their list for influence on their results.

8.       Port are cosy with the two extra wins on those outside the eight, but Paddy Ryder out for a little while is going to hurt. They aren't scoring enough, and none of their final seven games are gimmies. A ripe chance to fall out, danger games are the Doggies down in Ballarat followed by the Showdown in Rounds 19 and 20 respectively.

9.       "Advanced negotiations have brought 100m and 200m world record holder Usain Bolt to the brink of a shock trial with the Central Coast Mariners, with the promise of a season-long contract on offer if he proves himself in a six-week audition".

What? Oh gosh.

10.   "It would be easy to sneer, and to suggest that marketing expediency has apparently superseded football decision making. Yet the fundamental problem that the A-League has is its abandonment by great swathes of Australian general sports fans."

Incorrect. It’s the abandonment by the pure football fan, who supports Barcelona, who switched to Optus just to get the EPL, who has already bought a Juventus Ronaldo jersey. And this does nothing but widen that divide.

11.   Saints Blues got almost 34k to Friday night, not bad really after all. Dees Bulldogs the next day, at the MCG, decent afternoon weather-wise, not on free-to-air, just over 30k. Sure, some cheaper tickets helped Friday, but with Melbourne 10-6 they would be most disappointed.

12.   Stephen Silvagni took the points on Footy Classified. Caro went down a route of relying on the phrase " it’s my understanding" which she can’t or does not need to prove, put her on a hiding to nothing and SOS was more than happy to make sure for of that. And Lloyd was more than competent asking the question, but was found out when the interviewee, who had clearly prepared better than the panel, answered said questions with a question back. Whether you blame the Silvagni list management regime or not, he had an answer for everything and absconded any heat the media would like to pile on his role in the club’s situation.

13.   Mind you, Carlton are a live chance to finish the year with one win, and other than the expansion teams in their embryonic years, that’s just unheard of, so something has to give, or some internally have to royally cop it.

14.   Whack Tom Mitchell time of the week, 43 touches in the loss to Brisbane on Saturday. Seven tackles, five inside 50s, two clearances. Influence? Bout the same as someone with half the disposals? Meanwhile Dayne Beams, 33 touches, eight inside 50s, seven clearances, four rebound 50s. Interesting, the coaches votes. Beams and Hugh McCluaggae (29 touches) got seven votes each, Stefan Martin (17 touches, 33 hitouts), Josh Walker (20 touches, kept Roughead goalless) and Jaeger O'Meara (27 touches) got five each. Not a single vote for Mitchell.

15.   That award's becoming a race in three, Max Gawn with a perfect 10 from the coaches against the Bullies (17 touches, 41 hitouts, seven marks) is leading by three from Patrick Cripps, Shaun Higgins in third a further six votes behind.

16.   Rising Star, probably a race in two, Jaidyn Stephenson and Ben Ronke. The Pie has 25 goals from 16 games, the Swan is arguably bettering though with 21 from 11. Alex Witherden is coming home with a wet sail however, 31 and 27 touches the last two weeks, he keeps up the leather poisoning he could pinch it.

17.   Nic Naitanui is influential in the same way Cyril Rioli was (how strange to use past tense for him already?) in that he mightn't record the numbers of his peers but what he does with it is so much better it compensates. However, where the Eagles can probably survive is that Scott Lycett is a bonafide no.1 ruck in his own right. Nathan Vardy and Fraser McInnes are reasonable enough no.2 guys if they chose to play the same system. They'll be just fine, he is nowhere near as important to their chances as good a player he is in isolation; the 'net loss' is minimal. The loss of Naitanui to say a Vardy is somewhat offset by the better utilisation of Lycett.

18.   Buddy 900 goals, only happened eight other times. Last time was Matty Lloyd in 2009, who he is only 24 goals away from and could within reason catch before the year's out. He catches Leigh Matthews in 13 goals time.

19.   Steve Hocking is going hell for leather with starting positions, it being that there are three pairs in each fifty for every stoppage. I implore you all, next time you attend the footy, when there's a stoppage, if the ball is somewhere in neutral territory, look to see how many are inside 50, its almost six at each end as is. So that will do nothing. The key one though is if the ball is inside 50, you are sending six players who might be on centre wing or even closer all the way back to the other 50.

And when it comes to that, I've said it before, but let me quote ripper footballer Dayne Zorko, part of a recent trial of said rule, on why that's crap: "waiting for the forwards and defenders to head back to the box, that was eight or nine seconds that the game probably could’ve played for." Nathan Buckley this morning too said the constant waiting for pairs to get back into position at every stoppage would be a “blight on the game”. So you'll free up the wing from congestion, but we'll extend quarters by a minute or two as a result. Yeah, real winner Steve!

20.   Such a shame. We really live in a multicultural society full of new generations and diaspora from all corners of the globe so who cares if Allir Allir was born in Kenya and not Keilor and Majak Daw was born in Sudan and not Sandringham. But yes, cool, there are positives in terms of glass ceilings, I get that and don't refute them, yet why make the fuss? Chose to not take the lens of seeing the ethnicity over the skillset and just celebrate or critique them regardless. But even then, to cop yesterday that "there is real concern about Sudanese gangs … you’d have to be walking around with your hands over your ears in Melbourne not to hear it." Not from Shannon Noll, this is from the top office, esteemed Prime Minster Malcolm Turnbull. You overlay that with the wonderfully consistent work of social progressionist and friend to all Home Minister Peter Dutton who tells us that Melburnians are "are scared to go out to restaurants of a night time because they are followed home by these gangs…. we just need to call it for what it is, of course it’s African gang violence."

Peter Dutton needs to spend less time looking like the product of a peeled King Edward potato that had awful yet successful sex with Voldemort's racist, inbred cousin and worrying about whether I'm concerned Allir Allir is going to follow me home. Why? Firstly, he lives in Sydney, and I don't. Secondly I'm not that sure it would be in that young man's interest, we've never met, I didn't invite him, I'm confused. Or that Majak Daw might rob me this weekend in some back alley of the city.  He won't, I don't think he is that way dispositioned, no more so than anyone else from any background for that matter. He is more interested with getting a kick, so is Allir Allir, and Bachar Houli and Clayton Oliver and Chloe Molloy and whoever else you want, Peter.

Now Peter, Mr Potato, moron, mistake, whatever your real name is, I went to a restaurant last night and I was totally fine. Statistically my de facto partner was in far more danger when I headed home than I was of anyone with ancestral African links following me or causing me serious harm. Peter. Stop it. You're an embarrassment and quite frankly putting me off baked potatoes, which are delicious..

  (originally published 18 July)