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Donkey Watch
Dylan Macallister
155 minutes without a goal
Last Goal: 25 July 2007
Mario Jardel
339 minutes without a goal
Last Goal: 5 May 2007
David Zdrilic
1707 minutes without a goal
Last Goal: 10 November 2006
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Written by JayFC
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Friday, 04 July 2008 |
In recent times, the game of soccer has been in a steady decline in the respectability department due to the game being overrun with sissies, nut touchers and butt stuffers. However in 2005, there was one man ready to realign the game of soccer with the Y-chromosome and that man was Mateo Corbo. Corbo has been awarded the a-league’s balliest player 3 years in a row which is just a testament as to how huge his balls are as he hasn’t even played in the a-league for the past 2 seasons. Mateo was the quintessential of manliness but unfortunately, he was cursed to be born after the 1940’s meaning his brilliant yet unique style of play would never be fully appreciated by the uneducated public. If only he were a player of the sixties, he’d be one of those fine athletes that your grandfather would tell you about for hours in unquestionable awe. Regardless, he deserves an honourable tribute to his contribution to this sport and today, he will finally receive his due recognition for his outstanding achievements.
Corbo didn’t have the traditional upbringing of a modern footballer of day spas, exfoliating loofah scrubs and mud baths; he was raised on the mean streets of Montevideo where he had to smuggle glocks, hustle rock and make bitches walk the block in a polka dot halter top all before his balls had dropped. Now even though this upbringing would have seen him better suited to a career in politics, he opted to pursue his dream of becoming the balliest soccer player ever. Corbo initially plied his trade in his hometown but unfortunately, the only way the Uruguayan public could ever desensitize themselves to Corbo’s roughhouse approach is if they watched the Nick Berg beheading video on loop in prime time every weekday for 3 hours straight for the rest of their lives. Soon, Mateo was forced into exile to avoid all the civil cases being filed against him for grievous bodily harm due to his vicious conduct on the field and sought a new start in Spain, however, within minutes of stepping upon his new country, he managed to get a fatwa placed on his head. This saw him move to England but unfortunately over there, they like their footballers to be so pussy that they come with a menstrual cycle so unsurprisingly, Corbo was again the victim of the modern antifootball mindset. He then went on to Paraguay but again a similar story followed. It seemed like the only place where Corbo’s aggressive approach would be accepted was inside the gates of Hades. Things were going bad for Mateo. Even though he was so hard that they were thinking of renaming Viagra after him, it was hindering him from gaining fulltime employment. Luckily, as he was pondering his future, a man named Richard Money threw him a lifeline by offering a position to smash the fuck out of untalented anglos in Australia.
During his time down under, some fans were critical of his ability, most notably their disapproval of him never tracking back despite being a defender but he didn’t believe in tracking back as he didn’t want to disrupt his train of thought on who he would fight next. Oh, did I mention that he enjoyed the occasion biff? Well you should have realised that when I made reference that he was bringing manliness back to the game of soccer. Yes, the only thing that was more often seen at EnergyAustralia Stadium besides the sight of Newcastle never meeting expectations was the sight of Corbo shattering some random pleb’s jaw before making numerous throat slitting gestures to random pregnant women in the crowd. Mateo had no hesitations on becoming the law as he used his fists as tools of justice. In fact, numerous times during his stay in Australia, players wanted to test the legitimacy of the size of his balls by attempting to start a ruckus with him but Corbo would waste no time by slapping them so hard that they would do a 180 like darts, hit the floor quicker than being gagged with chloroform and get to taste test the turf as they wheezed loudly with their vain attempts to regain their breath. One time, I did this quiz on behalf of Matteo Corbo about how many 5 year olds you can take in a fight and Matteo could take on eighty-seven 5 year olds. That’s the equivalent of 4 bears and bears are fucken mad strong although one must admit, the result did not surprise me as he is such a tough cunt that he is suing the makers of Scarface for copyright infringement as they did not get authorization to make his life story.
The legend that is Corbo received 2 red cards and 3 yellows during his time here and spent a third of the season suspended which is just a honour to his one-man mission to take soccer away from the modern day footballer who owns a timeshare at the snowy slopes of Brokeback Mountain and give it back to the real men of this world whose knuckles have swollen to the size of tumours from punching the previously mentioned set of footballers. Alas, Newcastle thought that Corbo’s attempts to not conform to the ethics of a modern football was a bad image for the club and released him at the end of season one. My white friend Rowdy says that he played briefly in Spain before he mysteriously disappeared off the face of the earth but I reckon he’s serving 25 to life after he forgot to factor in the enormous size of his nuts and one night suffocated his wife to death when tea bagging her. Either way, with Corbo’s absence from not only the a-league but the game itself, it symbolises the demise of players of his kind from this code. With the removal of players of his nature, soccer is now as respected as male netball, lawn bowls being played by people who still have their own natural hair colour and lebos. Players should be allowed to store their football studs in the face of their opponents. People must know that the most shameful thing that could happen to a soccer player is to develop arthritis in the hand as it means they can no longer clench their fist to break a person’s nose or hymen. It’s time for soccer to move on over The Hand of God and start to get introduced to The Fist of Judas, The Headlock of Lazarus and The Spinning Roundhouse Kick of Mary Magdalene. It’s time for your face to get reacquainted with the biff. Sadly though, the tragic reality of the game today is that the wimps & sissies have more rights than terrorists. It’s hard to sway the youth over to our movement when the worst thing that happens to wimpy divers nowadays is that they might get photoshopped onto a wet floor sign. Indeed it’s almost impossible to win over the hearts and minds as the corporate world have spun wimpy creatures such as Christiano Ronaldo to the point where they can gross millions off his name alone while the only people making money of Mateo Corbo are the doctors and dentists cashing in on his victims. Despite this, Mateo must be applauded for staying true to himself despite the dilemmas the world puts against him.
So to you Mateo, we salute you and your efforts to try and take soccer back for all of us and dedicate this issue of the greatest disappointments of the a-league to the a-league itself for letting a player of your nature leave this land. You may have lost the war but you won the battle for our endearing love.
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Written by JayFC
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Tuesday, 01 July 2008 |
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Denial
Soccer’s shame is still being felt around the country today after Wednesday’s night clash between Blacktown City and Sydney FC where The Cove, who clearly weren’t content enough with bringing the game into disrepute after their rioting in Melbourne last year, dragged soccer back into the dark ages with another gutless incident that has brought embarrassment to the whole footballing fraternity. I didn’t think soccer in this country could stoop to even lower levels after Joel Griffiths homoerotic attack on a linesmen’s genitalia, Danny Vukovic’s mauling of Mark Shield’s palm and Ljubo Milosevic not eating his breakfast, yet here we are. Fuck you Cove! Josh Massoud should castrate all you fuckheads for what you did and don‘t you think for a second that I am just going to sit here and let this get swept under the carpet. You fucken gutless little hooligans. How dare you! How dare you act like you did that ill-fated night. That night where you pushed a humble Irish pop star to breaking point by saying disgusting things that I shouldn’t entertain you with by repeating yet am compelled to tell you for full disclosure. I was surprised that you little muppets could even chant those despicable words towards Brian McFadden as you’re all normally too busy polishing Walter Bugno’s knob to the point you can see your own reflection on it. With relations between Australia and Ireland already being so strained, did you think that likening Brian to a poor man’s Peter Andre would do anything other than further blight our image over there? For shame, The Cove. For shame. Oh what? You want to read some rehashed generic vitriol about that dead rubber featuring our ‘in-case-of-emergency’ players from the other day? Man, what’s the point? Honestly, we all know Pim has poor tactics and an even poorer hairdresser but why try and overthink a game featuring a team that will never be assembled again at a senior level? Look, I’ve managed to link Jesse Fink with our Asian Cup elimination, formed a connection between the FFA and Atheism but forging a link between the Socceroos performance and me giving a shit is just too unfathomable.
Anger
You know, I could just nitpick through the China game, belittling the efforts of the players while spouting off typical internet warrior threats to further boost my ego but I am above that... Hang on, no I‘m not! Where to start with the criticism? I didn’t think it was possible that such terrible football could be played without Branko Culina present. You can usually get a good gauge of how bad a Socceroo game is by the number of times Kewell throws a hissy fit after the referee refuses to send off an opposing player for using his foot and against China, Kewell had more hands-on-hip tantrums than completed passes. You know what else is a good gauge on detecting crapness in football games? The number of Ruben Zadkovichs on the pitch. If there’s more than zero, you’re guaranteed some cavity-defiling football. Fuck you Ruben Zadkovich. I'm handsome and yet you somehow play football for a club that people don't need the assistance of google to know of it. The fact is that on Sunday, you bombed worse than Hiroshima so consider yourself lucky that I let you leave the stadium with your jaw line intact. As for Michael Petkovic, it’s nice to see that being a pathetic loser is hereditary in your family. Jade North, your dick‘s so small that you can get tittyfucked by an A-cup. David Williams, you look like you learnt your first touch from Nikolai Topor Stanley. Carl Valeri, you have been called the long term solution for the defensive midfielder role but I wouldn’t care if you’re a mormon, you will never come close to knocking on the door of the starting xi as our national team will never be that bad. Mile Jedinak, your passing is about as accurate as the US information on Iraq’s weapons of mass destruction. Marco Bresciano, it took me four whole days until I realised that you weren‘t playing in this game which is a great sign of your influence in recent times. Also, congratulations Kristian Sarkies on Football Manager winning you another cap. And Nikolai Topor-Stanley, motherfucker, I am responsible for more tooth loss than meth so if you put in another performance like that again, mate, gone. You know who else can get fucked? Canberra! The nation’s capital has been doing a fantastic job in embarrassing football in this country recently and this was highlighted during the China fixture. The AIS was threatening to sue Spiranovic for the money spent to fund his scholarship at the prestigious academy if he chose to represent Croatia but apparently, Matty is a bit of a tight ass so now the Socceroos have another mediocre defender who can't cope with a degree of pressure to help our quest of failing to qualify for another World Cup. Is Canberra sick of ruining our national team yet? This faggot excuse of a town, which if it didn't store our geriatric politicians for a few weeks a year would be under consideration to become a storage site for nuclear waste, has given us Topor-Stanley, Ontong and Patafta plus they were responsible for developing Ned Zelic, who obviously being surrounded with the excessive amounts of legalized fireworks and double penetration porn, developed his ego which if it wasn't of such epic proportions, would have seen him suck up his pride and never walked out on the Socceroos meaning we would have qualified for the South Korea/Japan in 2002, meaning we would still have Soccer Australia in charge, meaning we wouldn't be over-obsessed with our fetish for unattractive and untalented Dutch coaches, meaning a whole lot of other positives too. Fuck off Canberra. Whores.
Bargaining
The thing that brews so much resentment amongst fans about Pim is how he taunts us with playing such attractive football to start his reign in the national team yet like a saddist, refuses to give us the pleasure of ever remotely replicate anything like it. It’s just that whenever the Socceroos play nowadays, they are like a compass with no hands the way lack direction. Actually, that’s a lie, they do have direction. That direction is south on the FIFA world rankings charts. The point is, Pim, I’m sure you would like to go at least one whole game without us fans expressing our desire to see the outline of your body in chalk on the street asphalt and for this to be achieved, you must address the burning issue that is your hair. Sure, playing attacking football could sway us over but we are too engrossed with your forehead declaring war on your scalp, as it has begun seizing enemy territories. Now obviously, nowadays, there is a lot of condemnation for men to improve the look of their hair as their manliness comes under question as they get clichéd as a cannibal Warsaw resident (or a pole eater if you will) but look, right now, your head is a fence-sitter as it can’t decide whether it wants to go bald gracefully or try and pad out a few more years of denial with combovers and whatnot. Pim, surely you must know that hairstyles will never reach such a terrible state where having hair shaped in the M-letter will ever be fashionable. It’s time to concede that you’ve reached the stage of an Advance Hair before shot and there is no magical way you can part your fringe that will get you removed from uglyfootballers.com. So knowing this, we plead with you, for the greater good, to get yourself a subscription for a batch of Rogaine or the very least, start experimenting with some toupees so the reflective shine from the bald spots on your head doesn‘t distract players like Brett Holman from losing sight of the ball as it hits himself in the back.
Depression
Sadly, a week later and the reality of the situation starts to sink in. That we will never see attractive football played outside of the Socceroos spiritual home, Craven Cottage. That we have to desensitize ourselves to the excuse that the pitch was the “reason” as to our sub par performances and not the incompetent coaching. That due to our dire displays during the qualification campaign, when it’s time for our final World Cup qualifier, Qantas will hold back on sending John Travolta as their ambassador to boost moral amongst the camp and will send Horshack instead. That as soon as the Socceroos continue their fine tradition of choking and fail to qualify for the World Cup, that match fees at junior level will jump so high that you will have to pull out a second mortgage just to pay them. That the Socceroos failure to qualify will mean that they will have more free time to make terrible Weet-Bix ads. It’s hard to get motivated about soccer anymore knowing the bleak future that is rapidly heading to our shores and its all because of Pim Verbeek’s backwards tactics, which are only ultimately setting us up for failure. Soon, soccer in country will return to its normal degenerative state as Pim scares away the heart and soul of the Socceroos, ie, the Fanatics, as they are only accepting of Lleyton Hewitt not meeting their expectations. As The Fanatics abandon our national team, we will see the return of those filthy dirty wogs sneaking in through the cracks, meaning our sidelines will become the victims as often-heard terrace lingo such as “blimey” & “struth” will be replaced with “δέσμη” & “Benito Mussolini”, the humble flanno & thongs will be replaced with turbans & lederhosen and the traditional sounds of ambient euro trance music filtering through the ground’s P.A. system will be replaced with the more traditional sounds of various anglos having their skulls smashed into the concrete by lebos. You may as well start digging the hole for the coffin of Australian football as Pim Verbeek’s is doing everything in his power to send it to the morgue.
Acceptance
I’ve yet to reach this stage yet although I will accept your letter of resignation, Pim, at any given time.
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Written by JayFC
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Tuesday, 17 June 2008 |
I keep refreshing facesofdeath.com but alas to my disappointment, photos of Brett Holman have yet to show up on there. If I ever see that faggot on the street, my hand will become a tenant and his teeth will get evicted. I will turn that slap jawed, goof troop looking, westie wannabe fuckhead into a 6 feet deep southie by putting in him a position where he’s gurgling flower roots & becoming best friends with earthworms and it‘s all because of what happened during the last national team fixture. Last Sunday, my eyes were bludgeoned by witnessing Brett's anglo corpse rot in the middle of a Doha pitch and sure, logically, he shouldn't have been involved in this game after his 13th consecutive shithouse performance for the Socceroos but Pim is as logical as a monk packing heat so when we heard in the pre-game show that Brett was going to start against Qatar, we all waited in anticipation to see what condensed form of retardation he would do that will be converted into an animated gif come the morning after. I’m going to be honest with you. Brett could score a hat trick in the World Cup final, cure AIDS, change the earth's gravitational pull and solve a Rubik’s Cube but I still wouldn’t be happy with him as his past performances have left me so emotionally scarred that the only time I will truly be happy with Holman is when I hear the sounds of him choking on his own curdling blood and while that comment will get me blacklisted from a few babysitting jobs, I just can't help to sound like I’m Charlie Manson's ghostwriter when talking about Brett as his previous performances have broken me. Now you are most likely saying “But Jason, Brett had 3 assists and got hit in the back by a soccer ball zero times on Sunday. Surely you can concede that any criticism isn’t warranted?” Fuck off its not warranted! Brett has an important role within the Socceroos and if he keeps having performances like he did on Sunday, he will risk losing his place in the team completely. That important role I am talking about is the position of a scapegoat.
The scapegoat is the most important role of any team, belittling the position of a captain and even the coach, as it is solely responsible for the karma amongst the squad. The scapegoat is a vigorous and demanding role where the player in question must bare the brunt of the fans’ disappointments and unachieved expectations as we keep our unnurtured minds happy by opting to abuse the fall boy rather than concede typical facts like the non-existent creativity in the midfield, lacklustre tactics and outright denial of the quality of the opposition. What people don’t realize is how a scapegoat can be utilized as a wonderful tool for diversion. While Pim’s tactical flaws are blooming, his experience in overwhelming situations cannot be matched and this was on full display during the last Iraqi encounter. Pim opted for the identical game plan that Australia used against the same opposition back in the 2007 Asian Cup of sitting back to conserve energy and like in that ill fated game, it backfired almost instantly. Pim knew that he was going to cop a battering from the fans and journalists alike but he had the wildcard known as Brett Holman warming the bench. Pim was well aware that Australia couldn't salvage a point from this dreaded game and to avoid criticism, he threw on Holman to divert attention onto Brett’s inability and to soften his fall from grace. Within 20 seconds of being subbed on, Brett had a chance to level the score after finding himself in a one on one position with the goalie but struck his shot with so much force that it wouldn’t even topple a house of cards. He then went about doing his usual Holman things which alongside with our expectations being crushed, propelled Brett into the pinnacle of scapegoat status, proving Pim as the master tactician as he fell asleep to the sound of thousands of internet warriors across the world smashing their keyboard away, making numerous death threats at the Holland based striker rather than rushing to register on the nearest Sack Pim petition. Its power-plays like this that kept him employed with the South American heavyweights, Netherlands Antilles for so long.
You see, Pim has been grooming young Brett for the role of a scapegoat throughout the whole World Cup qualification campaign and he’s been striving under the guidance of Graham Arnold and Verbeek to master this position, which has given his career a new breath of life. Let’s jump into the Delorean and look back at our World Cup quest for a moment. The Qatar game saw a dominant opening half from Australia fail to even remotely be replicated as the Slackeroos struggled to string together 3 whole passes without the ball being intercepted, suggesting serious problems with the stamina & endurance of the players but that fact was stricken from the record as Pim threw on Holman to smokescreen this reality so we could be reminded that Brett couldn’t finish a connect the dots drawing if there were only two dots to connect. In the China fixture, they may have well played this game with only one goalpost as Australia had clearly no intention of even glancing over to the Chinese penalty box yet alone attacking it but as our teeth were being grounded to a fine powder of dust by Pim’s ever questionable tactics, he was wise enough to throw Brett on early and like a moth to light, us fans were too consumed with our overall hatred for Brett that we lost focus to the point where we couldn’t even remember the name of the opposition playing. And as for the Suncorp clash with Iraq, honestly, who of us can even remember anything other than that fuckhead being hit in the back with a soccer ball? I can feel the blood clotting in my eyelid just from remembering that ever cringe-worthy incident. That incident alone caused more pants shitting than a buffet of metamucil-spiced beef vindaloo, expired baked beans and a side of oysters that had been left out in the sun for the past 6 hours.
However, last Sunday, the moons aligned to create the sight of a semi-competent Brett Holman being displayed in Doha. The problem with this however is if Brett keeps playing well, his position in the national team will be under threat as it is a well known fact that it’s taboo to play well in the Socceroos’ midfield which is why the likes of Nicky Carle, Scott Chipperfield and Richard Garcia have been banished from the starting xi. Sadly, we are too far down the track to discover a new scapegoat. If Brett starts playing well, who will we fall back on to endure our angst? North would be ideal backup as he is as stable in the defence as a Jenga Tower being played with by a guy with Parkinson’s Disease but Jade has a card up his sleeve; the race card to be precise so us fans would be reluctant to insult him in fear that we are committing a hate crime. Mark Bridge has the potential to become the David Zdrilic of the 2000’s but lol, remember that time he committed that atrocious airswing against Ghana? There wasn’t even one single 30 page thread about this incident on any forum across the internet which would have been the norm for a scapegoat with that of Brett’s pedigree, so it’s pretty clear that he isn’t ready to fill his shoes just yet. There’s also the man they call Archie, who is so intelligent that he once started a forest fire by trying to button up his shirt, lurking on the sidelines to cost us various World Cups but he is just too adorable for us to ever stay mad at, no matter how many airswings he does inside the six yard box.
As you can see, if Brett continues this fad of playing well, he will leave us in a difficult situation where we have to swallow our pride and call up the likes of Labinot Haliti, who is busy following in Hitler’s footsteps of bombing in Poland, to become our new scapegoat or even worse, Michael Baird. Brett, don’t let our national team sink to these ever newer lows. This is a heartfelt plea for you to remember your role within the Socceroos. We are going to be facing off against some very difficult opposition in the next stage of World Cup qualification and we need you to bring the suck or else we may start to notice that Pim is almost as incompetent as his barber. So Brett, lets just pretend that this “incident” on Sunday didn’t happen and try to pretend that things are the same as they always were, with you putting in a performance against China that warrants yourself to be compared with Massimiliano Vieri or other various war-crime atrocities.
Thanks in Advance,
Your Best Buddy
Jase
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