Day: June 23, 2011

The Thirty Greatest Dimitar Berbatovs Of All-Time, Part One

#30 – Dimitar Berbatov – So how do you spell that.. errr… Ver-ba-tov? – No, no, no. With a B, not a V. Ber-ba-tov. – Ber-ba-tob? Dimitar Berbatob? – Shit, no, the first V is a B. Ber-ba-tov. Dimitar BER-BA-TOV. He’s Bulgarian. From Bulgaria. #29 – Dimitar Berbatov When evening came, Berbarella wished to leave, and PSG was anxious to go with him, but he escaped from them so quickly that they could not follow him. PSG had, however, used a strategem, and had caused the whole staircase to be smeared with pitch, and there, when he ran down, had the cultured and beautiful centre-forward’s left boot remained sticking. PSG picked it up, and it was small and dainty, and all golden. Next morning, PSG went with it to Alex Ferguson, and said to him, “No one shall be my cultured and beautiful centre-forward but he whose foot this golden boot fits.” #28 – Dimitar Berbatov I’ve been wandering around the house all night wondering what the hell to do Yeah, I’m trying to concentrate but all I can think of is you well the phone don’t ring ’cause my friends ain’t home I’m tired of being all alone Got the tv on ’cause the radio’s playing songs that remind me of you Berbie when you’re gone, I realise I’m in love days go on and on, and the...

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Thursday picture: Finding Mourinhos

Portuguese football’s baffling alacrity at finding young, charismatic and highly skilled coaches continues to baffle everyone in England, where Sam Allardyce remains a credible candidate for the role of national team manager. But how are they doing it? Dotmund claims to have found out. More from Dotmund’s oeuvre may be found here. Twitter: Dotmund /...

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Down the Southern Road: Angels & Demons

Residents of the American South live alongside the spirits of their past, both good and bad. With a history tempered by a Laissez les bon temps rouler approach to life yet pockmarked by the ills of slavery, a civil war, segregation, poverty, and colourful but corrupt public officials who let their good times roll a bit too big, today’s inhabitants always find themselves rubbing elbows with spectres which refuse to be parted from them. In the city of New Orleans, for example, an entire section of the tourism industry operates to entertain guests with ghost tours of the French Quarter, completed only with visits to famous cemeteries on midnight excursions to see if the ghosts of voodoo queens like Marie Laveau can be spotted gliding out of their graves. The local sports team in New Orleans might have been ridiculed nationally for having an exorcism performed on its home field to placate those tortured souls that were causing the club to suffer one terrible losing season after another, but those who supported the team understood. The stadium had been built on the site of an old, abandoned cemetery during the 1970s and its ghostly residents were obviously unhappy with having been disturbed. To the west of The Big Easy, Premier Development League club Baton Rouge could rightly have considered themselves cursed early on in their 2011 campaign. Realigned to a...

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