lol Veronica no1curr about Man City
May. 17th, 2011 06:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
meretriculabut I care. so suck it up.
MAN CITY WON A TROPHY! FUCK YEAH!!! and Mario was Man of the Match! and they also guaranteed a spot in Champions League qualifiers (at least) next season! but mostly this post is an excuse to share the ridiculous locker room celebrations from the FA Cup victory. (their official photographer is a lady? and they're all running around stripping in front of her? damn, how do you get that job. also I feel bad for thinking about this because I know he breaks people on the pitch but Nigel de Jong totally seems like somebody who'd be fun to party with.) and, let's be real, I mostly only care about the video for the moment at 1:48 when Mario jumps up randomly to ruffle Silva's hair. and at 4:14 when he's totally sneaking a longing stare at my bb. /tinhat (ok and Carlos kissing the trophy at 4:34. DON'T LEAVE US CARLITOS ILUUUUUUU.)
right. uhhh. I just got back from Rome last night? I got to monopolize![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aramley for a whole weekend! I am only sad that we had to part again. ;_; COME LIVE IN MY POCKET LEAH I WILL TAKE V V V GOOD CARE OF YOU.
and we got to see the tennis! I SAW FLAVIA PENNETTA IN PERSON SHE IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN ALIVE. and also Maria Sharapova I guess she is pretty good-looking too. we had amazing seats for the Djokovic-Murray match btw you should all be jealous.and then Rafa lost to Novak which was less awesome but I roll with the punches. I got to fangirl repeatedly with Leah and I think I may have eaten my weight in pizza and gelato, which was my primary mission anyway. SUCCESS.
so now it is time to crack down and actually write that stupid dissertation but as a final note BARCELONA WON THE LEAGUE. and the more pictures from various celebrations I see, the more convinced I am that my crackpot theories about Ibi and Thiago might actually be kind of true. :D
PS: Querido Iniesta
In the blue Ford Orion, on the way to Barcelona, parents, maternal grandfather and the boy who dreamed of being a footballer couldn’t stop crying. “We stopped in Tortosa to eat. No one ate. My mother was crying, my father wasn’t hungry, my grandfather tried to lift my spirits, but I couldn’t eat either. I didn’t even look at the food. The first image of La Masia I have in my memory is the one of Joan Farrés, the director. He introduced me to José, a youth goalkeeper who was over 1.90 meters, and showed me the La Masia facilities. I looked at him and thought, ‘oh my God’. Then we started dinner. I couldn’t stop crying. The next day, I went to school, my parents brought me and they told me, ‘we’ll be here waiting for you when you come out.’ When I came out, they had already left. It was the best way not to prolong the agony. Later I continued crying, but if they had stayed, it would have been much worse.”
Those dismissals without goodbyes were repeated every two weeks. His parents would arrive on Saturday, see their child, leave him on Sunday night at La Masia and tell him: “Tomorrow we’ll come back to take you to school.” And Andrés knew that the next day he would go to school alone. On the weekend that his parents wouldn’t come, Benaiges would take him to his home and try to cheer Iniesta up with watching a movie, a football game with a walk and talk, until Sunday night. And then Andrés would cry again as he was, a child who felt alone in a house full of teenagers who already knew each other, including one Víctor Valdés.
“Now in La Masia there are many very young boys, but back then the only kids were Troiteiro and I. Victor took care of us, he behaved great with us.”
...
Andrés Iniesta still keeps the boots that his father saved up for three months to buy for him. When he’s at home and he sees them, he remembers “la pista” and those trips to and from Albacete, the Brunete tournament, the saddest meal of his life in Tortosa, the shelter provided by Valdés and Benaiges. “When I see them, I remember where I come from,” he says quietly.
"the shelter provided by Valdes." can I just. THEIR LOVE IS SO PURE AND TRUE ♥
MAN CITY WON A TROPHY! FUCK YEAH!!! and Mario was Man of the Match! and they also guaranteed a spot in Champions League qualifiers (at least) next season! but mostly this post is an excuse to share the ridiculous locker room celebrations from the FA Cup victory. (their official photographer is a lady? and they're all running around stripping in front of her? damn, how do you get that job. also I feel bad for thinking about this because I know he breaks people on the pitch but Nigel de Jong totally seems like somebody who'd be fun to party with.) and, let's be real, I mostly only care about the video for the moment at 1:48 when Mario jumps up randomly to ruffle Silva's hair. and at 4:14 when he's totally sneaking a longing stare at my bb. /tinhat (ok and Carlos kissing the trophy at 4:34. DON'T LEAVE US CARLITOS ILUUUUUUU.)
right. uhhh. I just got back from Rome last night? I got to monopolize
aramley for a whole weekend! I am only sad that we had to part again. ;_; COME LIVE IN MY POCKET LEAH I WILL TAKE V V V GOOD CARE OF YOU. and we got to see the tennis! I SAW FLAVIA PENNETTA IN PERSON SHE IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN ALIVE. and also Maria Sharapova I guess she is pretty good-looking too. we had amazing seats for the Djokovic-Murray match btw you should all be jealous.
so now it is time to crack down and actually write that stupid dissertation but as a final note BARCELONA WON THE LEAGUE. and the more pictures from various celebrations I see, the more convinced I am that my crackpot theories about Ibi and Thiago might actually be kind of true. :D
PS: Querido Iniesta
In the blue Ford Orion, on the way to Barcelona, parents, maternal grandfather and the boy who dreamed of being a footballer couldn’t stop crying. “We stopped in Tortosa to eat. No one ate. My mother was crying, my father wasn’t hungry, my grandfather tried to lift my spirits, but I couldn’t eat either. I didn’t even look at the food. The first image of La Masia I have in my memory is the one of Joan Farrés, the director. He introduced me to José, a youth goalkeeper who was over 1.90 meters, and showed me the La Masia facilities. I looked at him and thought, ‘oh my God’. Then we started dinner. I couldn’t stop crying. The next day, I went to school, my parents brought me and they told me, ‘we’ll be here waiting for you when you come out.’ When I came out, they had already left. It was the best way not to prolong the agony. Later I continued crying, but if they had stayed, it would have been much worse.”
Those dismissals without goodbyes were repeated every two weeks. His parents would arrive on Saturday, see their child, leave him on Sunday night at La Masia and tell him: “Tomorrow we’ll come back to take you to school.” And Andrés knew that the next day he would go to school alone. On the weekend that his parents wouldn’t come, Benaiges would take him to his home and try to cheer Iniesta up with watching a movie, a football game with a walk and talk, until Sunday night. And then Andrés would cry again as he was, a child who felt alone in a house full of teenagers who already knew each other, including one Víctor Valdés.
“Now in La Masia there are many very young boys, but back then the only kids were Troiteiro and I. Victor took care of us, he behaved great with us.”
...
Andrés Iniesta still keeps the boots that his father saved up for three months to buy for him. When he’s at home and he sees them, he remembers “la pista” and those trips to and from Albacete, the Brunete tournament, the saddest meal of his life in Tortosa, the shelter provided by Valdés and Benaiges. “When I see them, I remember where I come from,” he says quietly.
"the shelter provided by Valdes." can I just. THEIR LOVE IS SO PURE AND TRUE ♥
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