Άγγελος Ποστέκογλου

[Σενέκας]

κλαίνε οι σκώτοι στα φόρα

Εμπιστευτηκαν ανθρωπο με επιθετο που τελειωνει σε -ογλου,τους αξιζε.

ισχύει. Έταζε οπαδιλίκι λένε

[Eθνικοκοινωνιστης]

κλαίνε οι σκώτοι στα φόρα

Εμπιστευτηκαν ανθρωπο με επιθετο που τελειωνει σε -ογλου,τους αξιζε.

ισχύει. Έταζε οπαδιλίκι λένε

τι παραπανω εχει ο αρτετα νομιζεις?

[GoBack]

Εμπιστευτηκαν ανθρωπο με επιθετο που τελειωνει σε -ογλου,τους αξιζε.

ισχύει. Έταζε οπαδιλίκι λένε

τι παραπανω εχει ο αρτετα νομιζεις?

Ο τελευταιος προπονητης-οπαδος

[Σενέκας]

Why God needs to have a word with big Ange

WE actually allowed ourselves to believe that Ange Postecoglou was different. That this Celtic manager moved and had his being on a plane far above that on which the rest of us exist. That he was impervious to the false glamour of money and ambition and that instead he was possessed of a value system characterised by loyalty, self-denial and a desire daily to perform small acts of mercy for the sick and the dying.

We Celtic supporters have made a graven image of our Greek/Australian football coach. In doing so, we have imprisoned him in a cage that doesn’t permit of the human desires and urges by which the rest of us negotiate our own paths through life. All over the world, football supporters do something similar with their own fleeting and capricious saviours.

Those who have no emotional investment in this game are disdainful of it all: the unquestioning adulation; the excesses of time and money we spend on it; the psychological extremes that it induces.

But then they’ll never really know what football clubs mean to the communities that support them. They wonder how people can be invested in players earning enough money to wipe out Third World debt when their own families and neighbours are just glad to see the morning again.

And so, they’ll never get it: that just by existing and perhaps winning now and then many of these football clubs provide solace and a release from society’s inequalities and injustices.

Nor will you ever find a football supporter begrudging of the colossal wages earned by modern players. We live in a world that rewards corruption and class privilege with money and power. And so we actually rejoice that football can make poor children and their families rich.

On BBC I-player right now you can watch a documentary about Argentina’s journey to World Cup glory last year. And how this was imbued with the quasi-spiritual dimension of delivering this trophy for the richest player on the planet, Lionel Messi. One journalist described in awe-struck tones how tens of thousands of his compatriots – from a country with 140% inflation – had found the means to make the 8000-mile trip to support their millionaire heroes in Qatar.

On a trip to Naples last year I saw a city stalked by poverty and crime united in the act of making Diego Armando Maradona the Catholic Church’s first secular saint. For a few glorious years this flawed, wee gonzo football genius had contributed more to the happiness and sense of wellbeing of poor Neapolitans than the Catholic Church had in the 2000 years of its solemn existence.

Celtic supporters take this to another level of course. We like to think of Celtic as being more than just a football club because it was established to feed poor Irish immigrants escaping the Great Famine. At the end of a week when these people suffered discrimination and being treated like animals something as simple as a Celtic victory made them feel a little better about themselves.


Celtic are now the dominant sporting force in Scotland, and through the work of their charitable foundation are involved in dozens of social outreaches across Scotland worth millions of pounds. But in pure footballing terms I, like many other Celtic supporters who proclaim Socialism and equality, must park my political and social values somewhere out of sight when I watch this team play.

The paucity of resources that afflict many of our opponents are of no concern to me. They are there only to be beaten and occasionally to be denuded of their best talent if we deem them to be up to scratch. And if they’re not, we throw them to the winds with little more than a tweet of appreciation for their trouble.

The concept of sharing out the honours and “giving the wee teams a turn” is a sign of weakness. When we’re three goals up against these wretches from football’s third world it can never be enough. We always want more. We are 90-minute capitalists of the most reactionary and acquisitive strain.

Our executive management is comprised of men and women who talk of their fiduciary duties to corporate shareholders. It’s headed by a billionaire property magnate who, while not actually owning the club outright, wields the absolute power of a medieval potentate.

Under no circumstances do these people want the hundreds of thousands of rank and file supporters to have any influence over the direction of the club. They know that any outbreaks of dissent in the ranks are soon silenced by a few victories over Rangers. And we grant them that power.

One of my friends, a builder to trade, who deals in the cold transactions that govern tangible assets told me last week that he felt Ange Postecoglou would resist the blandishments of Tottenham Hotspur in the cash-rich English Premier League. He was certain that he had been chosen by God to be Celtic manager: that the Almighty had marked him out for this.

I asked him how this might have been manifest in the early years of the lad, Postecoglou. Did this little Greek immigrant boy begin receiving visions in the middle of the night featuring a large shamrock with thousands of starving infants singing You’ll Never Walk alone and a signpost shimmering in the background saying ‘Lisboa’?

He reprimanded me for being sacrilegious, while insisting that the appointment of Ange Postecoglou was part of God’s divine plan for his favourite football club on earth.

Nor was it merely the fact of Ange winning all these cups that had persuaded him of the sanctity of his calling. It was also the fact that he was possessed of a wit and intelligence capable of turning all those demonic football writers into pillars of salt where they sat.

Occasionally, I wonder what it might be like to walk for a season in the shoes of an Albion Rovers supporter where your loyalty is tested in ordeals never experienced by a Celtic aficionado.

I suppose, what we Celtic fans are enduring right now is to glimpse briefly what it’s like to follow a small club whose success is measured out in tombola prizes.

Our manager is being courted by a club with resources far beyond ours and there’s little we can do to prevent it happening. If Ange chooses to do what he thinks is right for him and his young family then he’ll simply be doing as the rest of us would.

But I’m still hoping that the Good Lord might appear to him once more in a vision tonight to remind him of their covenant.

έπος

[vantono]

Αν δεν τα πάει καλά με τους πετεινούς, ας τον φέρουν στην εθνική. Απ' όλους όσους εχουν περάσει τα τελευταια χρόνια (πλην Σαντος) καλύτερος θα ειναι.

[Orion22]

SpoilerShow

Why God needs to have a word with big Ange

WE actually allowed ourselves to believe that Ange Postecoglou was different. That this Celtic manager moved and had his being on a plane far above that on which the rest of us exist. That he was impervious to the false glamour of money and ambition and that instead he was possessed of a value system characterised by loyalty, self-denial and a desire daily to perform small acts of mercy for the sick and the dying.

We Celtic supporters have made a graven image of our Greek/Australian football coach. In doing so, we have imprisoned him in a cage that doesn’t permit of the human desires and urges by which the rest of us negotiate our own paths through life. All over the world, football supporters do something similar with their own fleeting and capricious saviours.

Those who have no emotional investment in this game are disdainful of it all: the unquestioning adulation; the excesses of time and money we spend on it; the psychological extremes that it induces.

But then they’ll never really know what football clubs mean to the communities that support them. They wonder how people can be invested in players earning enough money to wipe out Third World debt when their own families and neighbours are just glad to see the morning again.

And so, they’ll never get it: that just by existing and perhaps winning now and then many of these football clubs provide solace and a release from society’s inequalities and injustices.

Nor will you ever find a football supporter begrudging of the colossal wages earned by modern players. We live in a world that rewards corruption and class privilege with money and power. And so we actually rejoice that football can make poor children and their families rich.

On BBC I-player right now you can watch a documentary about Argentina’s journey to World Cup glory last year. And how this was imbued with the quasi-spiritual dimension of delivering this trophy for the richest player on the planet, Lionel Messi. One journalist described in awe-struck tones how tens of thousands of his compatriots – from a country with 140% inflation – had found the means to make the 8000-mile trip to support their millionaire heroes in Qatar.

On a trip to Naples last year I saw a city stalked by poverty and crime united in the act of making Diego Armando Maradona the Catholic Church’s first secular saint. For a few glorious years this flawed, wee gonzo football genius had contributed more to the happiness and sense of wellbeing of poor Neapolitans than the Catholic Church had in the 2000 years of its solemn existence.

Celtic supporters take this to another level of course. We like to think of Celtic as being more than just a football club because it was established to feed poor Irish immigrants escaping the Great Famine. At the end of a week when these people suffered discrimination and being treated like animals something as simple as a Celtic victory made them feel a little better about themselves.


Celtic are now the dominant sporting force in Scotland, and through the work of their charitable foundation are involved in dozens of social outreaches across Scotland worth millions of pounds. But in pure footballing terms I, like many other Celtic supporters who proclaim Socialism and equality, must park my political and social values somewhere out of sight when I watch this team play.

The paucity of resources that afflict many of our opponents are of no concern to me. They are there only to be beaten and occasionally to be denuded of their best talent if we deem them to be up to scratch. And if they’re not, we throw them to the winds with little more than a tweet of appreciation for their trouble.

The concept of sharing out the honours and “giving the wee teams a turn” is a sign of weakness. When we’re three goals up against these wretches from football’s third world it can never be enough. We always want more. We are 90-minute capitalists of the most reactionary and acquisitive strain.

Our executive management is comprised of men and women who talk of their fiduciary duties to corporate shareholders. It’s headed by a billionaire property magnate who, while not actually owning the club outright, wields the absolute power of a medieval potentate.

Under no circumstances do these people want the hundreds of thousands of rank and file supporters to have any influence over the direction of the club. They know that any outbreaks of dissent in the ranks are soon silenced by a few victories over Rangers. And we grant them that power.

One of my friends, a builder to trade, who deals in the cold transactions that govern tangible assets told me last week that he felt Ange Postecoglou would resist the blandishments of Tottenham Hotspur in the cash-rich English Premier League. He was certain that he had been chosen by God to be Celtic manager: that the Almighty had marked him out for this.

I asked him how this might have been manifest in the early years of the lad, Postecoglou. Did this little Greek immigrant boy begin receiving visions in the middle of the night featuring a large shamrock with thousands of starving infants singing You’ll Never Walk alone and a signpost shimmering in the background saying ‘Lisboa’?

He reprimanded me for being sacrilegious, while insisting that the appointment of Ange Postecoglou was part of God’s divine plan for his favourite football club on earth.

Nor was it merely the fact of Ange winning all these cups that had persuaded him of the sanctity of his calling. It was also the fact that he was possessed of a wit and intelligence capable of turning all those demonic football writers into pillars of salt where they sat.

Occasionally, I wonder what it might be like to walk for a season in the shoes of an Albion Rovers supporter where your loyalty is tested in ordeals never experienced by a Celtic aficionado.

I suppose, what we Celtic fans are enduring right now is to glimpse briefly what it’s like to follow a small club whose success is measured out in tombola prizes.

Our manager is being courted by a club with resources far beyond ours and there’s little we can do to prevent it happening. If Ange chooses to do what he thinks is right for him and his young family then he’ll simply be doing as the rest of us would.

But I’m still hoping that the Good Lord might appear to him once more in a vision tonight to remind him of their covenant.

έπος

εκλεισε τότεναμ τελικά;

τόσο potential χαμένο.. έπρεπε να πάει rangers να ξαναζήσουμε πρώτη επιστροφή ντόυσαν στα σκωτσέζικα

[Eθνικοκοινωνιστης]

Αν δεν τα πάει καλά με τους πετεινούς, ας τον φέρουν στην εθνική. Απ' όλους όσους εχουν περάσει τα τελευταια χρόνια (πλην Σαντος) καλύτερος θα ειναι.

[Σενέκας]

Now Tottenham must continue to shape a new look side to fit Postecoglou, but don't dare suggest that the head coach now has £100million burning a hole in his pocket in a summer transfer window when everyone will see the north London club coming.

"Money burning in my pocket? I don't have any money burning in my pocket. My wife does a good job of making sure it doesn't go there. That's harsh on my wife.... she deserves it. To spend it I mean, I'm getting myself into a hole here!" joked the Australian.

Dwarven Blacksmith

επίσης ο θεούλης παραπονιέται γιατί δεν μπορεί πλέον να παίζει φάντασυ

"I've got a few friends coming to the match. It's fair to say I've been inundated for tickets but it's great because they've been along for the journey. We all had those dreams and we're all living it together because for me they're just part of it as well because I wouldn't be sitting here today without them," he said.

"They're all going to be here and for the first time in I reckon 20 years I've had to pull out of our fantasy Premier League group as well which I'm gutted about and if they try to grill me for information they're getting nothing out of me.

https://www.football.london/tottenham-h ... m-27509565

[Eθνικοκοινωνιστης]

2oς ο ελληνοαυστραλος Αλε

[Σενέκας]

ξεκίνησε με φούρια αλλά έχει στοπ το Σάββατο

[Awesomatic]

ξεκίνησε με φούρια αλλά έχει στοπ το Σάββατο

Στοπ θα έχει, άλλα όχι για την ομάδα που φαντάζεσαι

COYS!

[Eθνικοκοινωνιστης]

ξεκίνησε με φούρια αλλά έχει στοπ το Σάββατο

ωχ

[Ένοπλος σοσιαλμπαχαλάκης]

Ότι πρέπει για το σύριζα. Δυναμικός, ξενοτραφης, επιτυχημένος.

[jason0]

Ξεκίνησε καλά αλλά είχε πολυ ευκολο πρόγραμμα, δηλαδή το δυσκολότερο ήταν με το μπουρδελακι του Μάντσεστερ... Δεν έχει καμια τυχη με Άρσεναλ

[GoBack]

Θα υποβιβαστουν αυτοι μη σας ξεγελαει το καλο ξεκινημα