Wednesday, August 15, 2007

mi devo ricredere

sul giornalismo britanicco..
ok, è una rubrica
ok, si tratta di sport.
ma nonostante questo un intero pezzo sarcastico..le battutine sugli stranieri ecc..ecc.
Amazingly, for City, they look like footballers - handsome, cocky, athletic. They pass the ball to each other in the pre-match kick around and (I fib not) go on to do the same thing in the match. They acknowledge the crowd, they are pleased to be here, they don't argue, let alone beat one another unconscious.

Saturday August 11, 2.55pm. We test each other on names and numbers - Bianchi, 10; Petrov, 15; Corleone, 16. Or something like that. English fans haven't been challenged like this before. How are we expected to form instant allegiances to a bunch of players most of us hadn't even heard of last month?

And yet within minutes new songs are sung as if they are classics. "Bianchi, Bianchi, he comes from Italy, he's signed for Man City." He's tall and head-band-cool. The ball sticks to him like superglue. Which could well be the next verse. Inspired by the wondrous dribblings of Martin Petrov, I compose a song. "Martin, Martin Petrov, one of only two Bulgarians to come from Manchester." It doesn't take off.

leggilo tutto a:
Simon Hattenstone: An apology: Mr Sven-Goran Eriksson | Columnists | Guardian Unlimited Sport