Edit - 3 times, not 4
RAWK goes into Meltdown 2010/2011
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In the latest episode of the United Hour Podcast, Nik (@Rood) is joined by CEO Duncan Drasdo and Financial Director Andy Green from the Manchester United Supporters Trust for a special episode on all things behind the scenes at Old Trafford including a brief history of MUST and their aims today, views on INEOS and Sir Jim Ratcliffe so far, and the Old Trafford regeneration.
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I can't believe how many of them are utterly convinced that Dalgleish is a superior manager to Ferguson and that they are a shoe in for the league next season.
Do they ever learn?
Do they ever learn?
And you might be right about the 'poncy middle-class armchairer' interpretation, but it's just so incredibly dull, even given their standards. A generic insult which migh as well be used against Arsenal or Chelsea. Why not at least go for Café Crevette to make it a bit United-specific?
Unless they're hinting at a certain lack of authenticity and a sense of wannabe-sophistication? But to look down their noses at the Café Rouge chain they'd have to out themselves as being middle-class ponces too, clashing horribly with their self-image as dead hard working-class home-and-awayers. So it's back to square one -- the straight 'They're ponces!' interpretation.
Anyway, the RAWK I know and love is finally back after a terrible patch of bad form. Goodbye generic bitterness, and hello 'an insurmountable sense of pride, regret, humility'!
Why Liverpool should never look back again
It's articles like this that really shock me. That is actually very well written and some genuine thought has gone into it. But how can someone so eloquent be so completely and utterly baseless, moronic and blindly optimistic? I honestly think that those 21 years of hurt have had a detrimental effect on scouse sanity - Liverpool has completely and utterly lost the plot!
There's a lot of "we'll see how that old bastard feels when we inflitrate Old Toilet in 2013 with a 20-19 banner" going around
It's basically just him going well we used to care but really we don't anymore. Honest like.
It's not "very well written" at all. That entails more than being able to string pretty looking words together to form pretty looking sentences.
So, who's going to win the league in 2012 then?
Judging by that, they reckon they're gonna win the next 2.
It always happens though - a team that finishes 7th & then 6th the following season tend to go on the be champions for the next 2 seasons.
It always happens though - a team that finishes 7th & then 6th the following season tend to go on the be champions for the next 2 seasons.
feck me, my typing is shit today - I can't edit posts so that last message looks retarded.
I meant to say - 'tend to go on to be the champions for the next 2 seasons'
I meant to say - 'tend to go on to be the champions for the next 2 seasons'
Those comments about wanting to mutilate and assassinate Fergie are sinister and hilarious at the same time.
Judging by that, they reckon they're gonna win the next 2.
It always happens though - a team that finishes 7th & then 6th the following season tend to go on the be champions for the next 2 seasons.
Oh yes, I see the way they've wrote it now.
They think they're going to win the title the next 2 seasons
It's just fundamentally unfunny and makes you feel a bit dirty just for having read it, but you can't help but laugh, if only as a defence mechanism. I'll never get the modding over there -- that kind of disgusting bile should be deleted as soon as it's posted, and the posters perma-banned.
There's banter, and then there's looking into the darkest depths of a truly damaged psyche. Frightening stuff, really.
As once again the players of Manchester United go wandering into the night, their becrowned heads heavy with the bittersweet scent of victory, their tired legs and muscles once more burdened with the effort of carrying yet another trophy like a tortured devil around their weary necks; spare a thought for our long dormant neighbours in red, laying in wait by the sides of the great river Mersey.
For Liverpool FC, the best football team in the world, the fall from grace has finally reached its crushing nadir. And what a resplendent fall it has been, class shining through in perpetuum, repeatedly showing Mr Ferguson and his rabble of rag-tag mercenaries how properly a football club should traverse those ever meandering rivers of fate; with limitless decorum and grace.
And yet now, like metaphors in the night, those fearful Liverpudlian eyes, unshackled from the looming albatross of success, are no longer cast behind them like so many whiplash suffering owls, but are now cast about-face, a whole new perspective upon them, with a view as might have a dog, fresh from the vets, its be-coned head a constant distraction from the unwavering stench of its recently operated-on behind. A red devil has surely been lifted from their backs; but lifted it was, not without a fight.
No, fellow United fans, cast your minds back to the twenty years hence past; did once those mighty but fallen footballing gods from the banks of the Mersey give us a ride to the title free from battle both tooth and nail? Was once the barb of our cheating, satanic tail free from the vice-like grip of the golden talons of the Liver Bird? Nay, it pains me to say, it was not. And this is what scares me.
A King has returned unto the hallowed mountains of Anfield like a seahorse in the night; his sword as keen, his shield as hefty, his will and his might as immovable and as majestic as ever. The name of this King? The name our lips do tremble to mention? The name but whispered amongst us as we stand in chickenhearted huddles, our hesitant eyes cast around us all in a dither, aghast at the grandiose splendour of its every utterance? This King's name is Kenny, King Kenny Dalgliesh, and in this King, I fear, we have at long last met our destroyer.
And so, my fellow reds, as a night of twenty years gives way to day like a beachball in the night, we must alas prepare the relinquishment of our crown; Mr Ferguson, his rancid claws shaking in his boots, must set his ever dulling mind towards that final abdication. I solemnly implore each and every one of you to enjoy this summer as best you can, considering the circumstances, for of this there can be no doubt; next year is the year of Liverpool Football Club.
For Liverpool FC, the best football team in the world, the fall from grace has finally reached its crushing nadir. And what a resplendent fall it has been, class shining through in perpetuum, repeatedly showing Mr Ferguson and his rabble of rag-tag mercenaries how properly a football club should traverse those ever meandering rivers of fate; with limitless decorum and grace.
And yet now, like metaphors in the night, those fearful Liverpudlian eyes, unshackled from the looming albatross of success, are no longer cast behind them like so many whiplash suffering owls, but are now cast about-face, a whole new perspective upon them, with a view as might have a dog, fresh from the vets, its be-coned head a constant distraction from the unwavering stench of its recently operated-on behind. A red devil has surely been lifted from their backs; but lifted it was, not without a fight.
No, fellow United fans, cast your minds back to the twenty years hence past; did once those mighty but fallen footballing gods from the banks of the Mersey give us a ride to the title free from battle both tooth and nail? Was once the barb of our cheating, satanic tail free from the vice-like grip of the golden talons of the Liver Bird? Nay, it pains me to say, it was not. And this is what scares me.
A King has returned unto the hallowed mountains of Anfield like a seahorse in the night; his sword as keen, his shield as hefty, his will and his might as immovable and as majestic as ever. The name of this King? The name our lips do tremble to mention? The name but whispered amongst us as we stand in chickenhearted huddles, our hesitant eyes cast around us all in a dither, aghast at the grandiose splendour of its every utterance? This King's name is Kenny, King Kenny Dalgliesh, and in this King, I fear, we have at long last met our destroyer.
And so, my fellow reds, as a night of twenty years gives way to day like a beachball in the night, we must alas prepare the relinquishment of our crown; Mr Ferguson, his rancid claws shaking in his boots, must set his ever dulling mind towards that final abdication. I solemnly implore each and every one of you to enjoy this summer as best you can, considering the circumstances, for of this there can be no doubt; next year is the year of Liverpool Football Club.
be-coned.Genius.
Title of the thread "Still on our perch".
*sniffle* that brought a lump to my throat, ciderman.
Cider, it looks like you were just stringing pretty looking words together to form pretty looking sentences...
Er, not really. How well written something is and the content of the piece itself are two very different things. Regardless, that's not really important as you've completely missed the point of my post. Unlike the majority of RAWK posters, that guy clearly has the intellectual ability to string together a well structured, well written article, but lacks the basic ability to see the numerous, obvious differences between our situation now and Liverpool's 21 years ago.
Oh yes, I see the way they've wrote it now.
They think they're going to win the title the next 2 seasons
They'll be very lucky to get back into the CL in the next 2 seasons.
This. A friendly, tongue-in-cheek reference to dislike for any particular person is pretty common and can be funny at times, but what they do is way beyond funny, really quite sad and more than a little disturbed.
Cider, I love you.
It says it all that, at first, I thought Cider's post was actually from RAWK. Aside from its lack of bizarre, tacked-on grandiose historical or literary referencing (you know the type of RAWK thing: 'In 1492, Columbus discovered the New World; and that's a bit like Andy Carroll arriving at Anfield'), Cider's parody is spot-on.
Well I am a genius, Stevej.
Like metaphors in the night. For anyone who watched the recent South Park episode this immediately reminded me of TMI.
YouTube - South Park Randy Marsh TMI‏
Awesome by Ciderman and further hilarity from RAWK
someone should try posting that on rawk as a new thread, itll bring tears to their eyes.
its brought tears to my eyes for completely different reasons.
Title of the thread "Still on our perch".
Well, Scousers would say that, because they won those European Cups in the 70s.
It's wrong though.
The Champions League is not as difficult to win as the League. In the CL you just have to play well in 7 games after the group stage, in the League you have to play well for 9 months. Yes, you play against some of the best teams in Europe, but just because you play well against a good team once doesn't mean you're the best, especially if you've been poor the rest of the season. In the CL you can exit on one random decision after having been the best team for the majority of the game, such is the nature of cup competitions. In the League, the best team always, always wins.
This is even more true of the European Cup, where only the champions from every country in Europe played in, which meant you could play the champions of Belgium or Serbia at the latter stages. Hardly really tough competition. The EC was easier than the CL, which is, in turn, not as difficult as the League.
Therefore, United's record of more League wins is more impressive than the ECs Liverpool won in the 70s and 80s.
They're also wrong that you 'have' to be an exceptional team to win it. Usually an exceptional team does win it, but not always. And who proves that to be true? None other than Liverpool themselves! Does an exceptional team finish 5th in their league, over 30 points behind the leaders? No.
No.
For anyone who watched the recent South Park episode this immediately reminded me of TMI.
YouTube - South Park Randy Marsh TMI‏
They can't even count - their figures only add up to 247 for them. So if you add on the World Championship, adjust the figures to reflect the competitions more fairly then they will be left in our wake.
I haven't posted in RAWK in nigh on a year or two now I don't think but I think I may engage in some WUMming at some point.
Perhaps an avatar of Owen with a PL medal around his neck.
Perhaps an avatar of Owen with a PL medal around his neck.
Apart from last season
Title of the thread "Still on our perch".
I'm pretty sure the maths involved is incorrect. Their total should be 247.
Friggin' Einsteins.
The second rate Europa League ranks alongside the most traditional cup tournament in the world? Wauw, that's desperate
I can confirm that for you, interval Level.
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