Something Great

Arsene Wenger cobbled together starting lineups with spit and duct tape and Denilson and somehow the team dragged its ass over the finish line in third or fourth.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

It's Our 200th Post!

It's been a great ride. The car blew out three of its tires, Jim's arm is stuck in the door that accidentally slammed on him when he got in last, and I'm sitting in the back wondering who's driving because I'm pretty sure we're headed for that cliff up ahead, but the car keeps on moving.

Despite the recent form, this is a time to reminisce. These are our favorite posts from the past 200, as voted on by our readers! (That means Jim and I).


  • Before TLOCA took La Liga seriously, and before La Liga took themselves seriously, Real Madrid led the table and faced lowly Getafe in what would be a meaningless rout. Well In Case You Missed It, they lost, in such a way that Arsene Wenger termed, "meh, just you wait 3 years". But in all seriousness I'd like to point out that Barcelona finished 3rd that year, Jim and I weren't the only ones that thought Puyol was overrated, and Guti was good at soccer.
    ** Even the youtube link still works!

  • There isn't anything special about Will They Make It, except that the day after it was written, Arsenal walked into the San Siro for their second leg of the Champions League quarter finals and did what no English team had done before. It also just so happens that Cesc Fabregas was the culprit of a 30-yard missile, 6 minutes from stoppage time to bury the defending Champions League Champions. It may have led to The Fab Face (see above, left) and it may have been because Fab reads this blog.
    ** Unfortunately the links don't work, but they were memorable Arsenal goals in the Champions League.
  • Jim tackles The Five Best Derbies and it's a timeless piece unaffected by emotion or bias; I know this because Arsenal vs Tottenham isn't the #1 derby. Just look at that picture of Rafa; I knew this would be fun!

  • Another Friendly, when watching the United States play soccer is like bad sex.

  • It wasn't all Clasicos and Arsenal-Chelsea victories for TLOCA correspondents, believe it or not we used to go to USA friendlies. A Report From the Front tells the story about when Jim sees the Messiah in "Football" territory.

  • Another Brilliant Ad is a testament to when El Niño was the hottest thing in the Premier League and was leaving an array of defenders behind his beautiful red jersey. For the record, TLOCA still loves Fernando and is really hoping he scores a hattrick against Man United in a week.

  • It Was Never About the Fans complains about the days when Arsenal kept winning 1-nil, and ends with some humor from Arsene Wenger. This is also marks the point when Juan went from funny to surly, light-hearted to generally bitter.

  • Jim finishes 2008 with an economist-esque examination of the difference between two north London rivals, aptly titled Tottenham Hotspur: the Anti-Arsenal.


  • After the Arsenal campaign ended with a whimper, and T-minus 12 days before the next campaign, Juan compares supporting Arsenal to a regretful night in college. The parallels are fascinating, hilarious, and disturbing.

  • It was a moment that Ireland will never forget. In Poor Ireland, Poor Me, Jim puts his perspective on the legacy of his favorite player and the consequences of Thierry Henry's handball with an occasional french joke and one epic photograph.

- Present
  • Dedicated to Aaron Ramsey is contained anger, and The Culture of English Football is the sarcastic yet eye-opening follow up to an incident TLOCA will never forget.

  • On the eve of the Arsenal vs. Barcelona CL clash, Juan had been listening to a little too much Notorious BIG: Barça Bleeds.

  • The World Cup 2010. Uruguay vs. Ghana. Life After Death.

  • In August Juan decided to leave the United States and pursue his love of soccer under the guise of "International Medicine". A Night In Barcelona is his first post from Sunny Spain.

  • A classic song deserves a classic post. In the Words of Ice Cube combines the two and serves as a snapshot of the soccer scene before the whole world went mad. Proof that there was normalcy before 4-4 draws and goals in 13 minutes of stoppage time.

  • Juan went to El Clasico, Jim went to the Emirates. Both are first hand accounts with original videos and photos.

  • And last but not least is my personal favorite, You're Welcome, Sincerely Barcelona FC. Diego Forlán comes to Barcelona to visit, while Quique Sanchez Flores runs interference; a gushing encounter of Uruguay's icon.
Here's to 200 more!

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

A March To Forget

For Jim and I, the month of March went alot like Richie Tenenbaum's last tennis match.

The "something" that happened was the combination of a few things. The Carling Cup final on February 27th left us confused and reacting in such a way that had psychologists scrambling for more notepads. Then there was the second leg of the Barcelona game, a 90 minute thesis on the 7 steps of grief; I promise we still haven't reached step 7. I'll throw in the FA cup too, you know, because I've never seen such an overt mockery of Wenger-ball. You realize Ferguson put out 7 defenders right, but I digress.

We ignored losing the first set 6-love, carried on to lose the second set 6-love, and at four-love in the third and final set, Jim and I looked up in the stands and saw Manchester United marrying the EPL trophy.

There we were, wandering around our respective lives without shoes on, and having lost one sock. The commentators could very well be Franny and Emily, not truly understanding what the hell went wrong.

Soon, cognitive dissonance will take over: We want to win trophies but we don't want to pay market-price for experienced players. So we tell ourselves the market is all screwed up, and rich russian and oil tycoons are ruining the sport. But before cognitive dissonance, and near the end of the season, we'll instead morph into Royal Tenenbaum, asking ourselves what the hell happened. Just like the season before that, and the season before that.

If it's possible to reach the last stage with only hope and not acceptance, then perhaps we have reached stage 7. I doubt it. Still, somewhere, in some pleasing dream world, I imagine Arsenal beating United, Chelsea exacting their revenge the next week, and then, on the final day of the Premier League, Ian Holloway will finally be rewarded for encouraging positive, attractive football, and force a relegation-saving-draw which just so happens to be a title-winning-one too.

I'm still allowed to dream right?