In Response to Re: Many Rivers To Cross. A Diary. : He would have been fine. US Open is 18 hole play off the next day. Fantastic to see and English winner Posted by Jac35
Against Mickelson? I beg to differ. Also I think he was already mentally expecting the win, having that taken away is a mental challenge, however he's overcome a number of them so maybe he could take.
I'm really happy for him that it didn't come down to that though.
In Response to Re: Many Rivers To Cross. A Diary. : Against Mickelson? I beg to differ. Also I think he was already mentally expecting the win, having that taken away is a mental challenge, however he's overcome a number of them so maybe he could take. I'm really happy for him that it didn't come down to that though. Posted by TommyD
Ahh I misunderstood what you meant. I thought you were thinking that they went straight out for the play off. He certainly would have struggled in that case.
Would have been a close run thing the next day, I believe. He was playing beautifully and the crowd on the Monday would have been much smaller and less hostile. (hostile is wrong word).
Always feel it's a real anti-climax to have to come back the next day. I think they have it about right at the 'real' Open with the 4 hole play off. Less of a lottery than 'sudden death' and a wonderful atmosphere.
In Response to Re: Many Rivers To Cross. A Diary. : Yeah after that silver medal at The Open his career has taken a longer route to a Major than most people expected. Very impressed at his mental toughness to get through to this point and keep improving his game. Also glad he managed to maintain a run through all 72 holes, recently he seems to be in it after the first round of a major then drop away. Many kudos. Mickelson was also awesome. The guy couldn't find a fairway off the tee with a roadmap in the final round yet he was still in it right up to the last hole. If it had gone to a playoff I really couldn't see anyone but him winning it, just such a competitor. Personally I thought Merion was great. Set up perfectly to really challenge accuracy rather than strength, have high risk/high reward spots along the way and obviously drama on the greens. I remember a commentator saying it's probably be the last US Open at Merion as, to quote, 'It's too small and the game has outgrown it.' Thoughts on this? Personally I thought it was a great venue and a massive equaliser for the big tee off merchants. Posted by TommyD
It did make me chuckle did he forget the winning score was over Par? It will be a shame if it is, but then he must of been a Nike fan
Comments like that come from people who want to see scores of 60 under winning tournaments. I personally enjoy players have to manufacture shots and use imagination.
The Us Open was great for the viewer and the players, just under 7000 yards of pure golf, was Merion too easy being a shorter course, i think the scores shot and the players will tell you how tough it was.
Unfortunately due to modern technology some courses have been reduced to be not adequate enough for Major Tournaments, one course that springs to mind is Walton Heath, Its held the Ryder Cup in the past and imo is a better golf course than Celtic Manor.
I could rant all day about what is wrong with golf at the present time but hopefully with the US Open being as exciting as it was people will now start to think about the future of the game more
Geldy, I can't frankly remember the other holdings now. I know I felt I went in there too light. I think you won the high and me and Chris split the low. By definition, you played it better then.
A bit of a shaker the other day. I've had a long running gag. It's not that funny out of context and written on a forum but Shirley, our Beagle puppy, has a long running feud with pigeons. She can't get close to them though. She'll spot a couple pecking and waddling around in the garden, slowly stalk up to them playing a version of 'What's the time Mr Wolf?' She'll pause, creep, pause one paw hanging in the air, creep some more, get within five yards of the birds then SPRINT! And at this point the pigeons take flight and I say something like 'Shirley nil, pigeons 35.'
That changed somewhat a couple of days ago. I was just chilling in front of the box when the GF would scream 'She's got a bird!' I run out and there is the Hound, proud as punch holding a brown bird in her jaws. She wasn't chewing, but she was shaking and running around with the bird like it was one of her toys. She'd drop the bird in front of her and I could see the poor thing writhe but was unable to get upright or fly away. When I got close the dog scoops up the bird and runs around the garden, just like the game with the tennis ball we have.
In a few minutes I finally managed to separate dog and bird, chucking the dog in the house and closing all exits, then back to the bird. It was a Thrush, pretty little thing. Bigger than a sparrow, slighter than a pigeon. I have no idea how the dog got a bird, maybe the feathered thing was already injured, maybe it was just sloppy. I had a towel and a shoebox, I cradled that bird and set it on its side in an emergency bed I made for it within the cardboard. There was no marks or cuts or wounds on the body, but it was extremely frail and shocked. It stared at me, dazed and obviously in pain. I stroked the head and decided I was going to save this thing like it was a bad Children's TV drama. Then I saw it gasping at the beak, and the blood gently dripping from its mouth. The bird was reaching from its throat, over and over again. I frankly didn't know what to do, completely helpless and useless. Then the bird turned its head, stared at me. And stopped. Just stopped. I decided to do some ham-fisted avian CPR, pressing the chest and blowing gently into the beak, nothing happened. The thrush was limp and then when I picked it up (at this point I was mentally coming up with an electric shock idea involving the toaster, don't ask where that thought process was going) the head lolled down and I knew it was over.
I was emotionally invested to be frank and had failed. I guess the dog must had crushed something inside the Thrush and it either choked to death on its own blood or the organ damaged ceased to function. Tearful, I wandered towards the shed to find a spade to bury the poor thing. At this point comes the GF's only contribution to the event, placing the bird in a plastic bag while I'm in the shed, tying the bag up and putting it in the wheelie bin. Apparently this is easier. Sigh.
D the Elder has since told me the humane thing to do when a creature is in that way is to place it in a bag and smash its head in, humanely killing it quickly. I can't see me doing that. I can see me trying again with extremely little chance of success to save the bird. However, I'm not making that Shirley versus the birds joke again.
Pfft it has been up and down as of late. Having a decent month but every time I get going on a roll I get pinged back. Really looking forward to the SPT 6Max though.
I have a somewhat decent record in 2 Day SPTs when it comes to getting to Day 2, I generally make it. Had a few stacks as well. Sadly my Day 2 blow ups are becoming stuff of legend. Sick of it to be honest, need to get one to take. I'm pretty determined for the 6max (which will obviously mean I'm out before dinner) after lat year. I cashed yes but I screwed up a couple of hands, one in particular, which would have legitimately given my a FT shot. I need to be more composed live. You see online I do spin in my chair when I ping a set, I do shout hold, I do scream FOLD FOLD FOLD or CALL CALL CALL. This doesn't work as well live. Obviously I don't actually do that stuff live but the mist does come down, keeping the excitement inside does feel like it is over flowing at times and I just go blank to the whole picture. I need to be composed. First stop in this change, DTD Nottingham.
Poker news. Pfft it has been up and down as of late. Having a decent month but every time I get going on a roll I get pinged back. Really looking forward to the SPT 6Max though. I have a somewhat decent record in 2 Day SPTs when it comes to getting to Day 2, I generally make it. Had a few stacks as well. Sadly my Day 2 blow ups are becoming stuff of legend. Sick of it to be honest, need to get one to take. I'm pretty determined for the 6max (which will obviously mean I'm out before dinner) after lat year. I cashed yes but I screwed up a couple of hands, one in particular, which would have legitimately given my a FT shot. I need to be more composed live. You see online I do spin in my chair when I ping a set, I do shout hold, I do scream FOLD FOLD FOLD or CALL CALL CALL. This doesn't work as well live. Obviously I don't actually do that stuff live but the mist does come down, keeping the excitement inside does feel like it is over flowing at times and I just go blank to the whole picture. I need to be composed. First stop in this change, DTD Nottingham. Good luck everyone, I hope to see everyone there. Posted by TommyD
Thanks that gave me a good giggle as I imagined someone at a live table screaming FOLD FOLD FOLD at the top of their voice as they push chips in the middle =D
In some lighter hearted animal news (it's starts bad but don't worry, happy endings like an American Sit Com) I had a knock on the door the other day. On of my neighbours had lost her dog. Little Bobbi (I have no idea if it's Bobbi or Bobby but judging by the TOWIE appearance of the owner the safe money is on Bobbi) had done a runner from the garden. About six months ago he had gotten into my garden, now from ten doors down that's a feat. She was asking me if he had gotten into our garden again, sadly no.
But this was Shirley's chance of redemption. I grabbed the lead and after five minutes of chasing my dog around the garden, I have no idea how I got the only dog in the world which hates walking, we were off. Well I say off, we got to the pavement and Shirley spent two minutes licking her rear end. I hope this was a canine method of getting the scent and psyching up.
Up and down the local streets we went and boy was Shirley good. When I say good I mean distracted. For a Hound her focus was somewhat wavering. She chased after a boy on a bike, got scared of a pram, was very interested in a discarded coke can and decided to have a lie down half a dozen times. It's tiring work obviously, she needs her rest. Luckily I saw the owner a little while later and Bobbi had gotten into yet another garden and after getting a phonecall she was on her way to collect. All being well me and Super Hound retired back to the house. She expected a biscuit for all of her hard work. And because I can't say no to her hang down expression and big brown eyes she obviously got one. I'm such a mug for a cute face.
Movie News From the Geek/Nerd/Comic Book Fanboy Heart now
So I saw Man Of Steel the other day. You may or may not know I regard the original Christopher Reeve Superman movie as the one great comic book movie. Well I did up until last year, in my opinion there are now two. Nope, nothing with Batman in. Avengers did the unthinkable for me, they made an actual movie with the feel, texture, action, humour and character of a comic book without patronising either the source material or the audience. Nolan's Batman Trilogy are probably much better main stream films and undoubtedly very good, but they are straight action films based on the literature (and in my fanboy opinion mostly cannibalised patches of the classic works of Miller, Moore Morrison etc mashed together). Avengers was turning a comic book into a film.
Anyway, Man of Steel. Easily the third best Superman movie of all time. Probably not what they were shooting for. Now I hate spoilers, I avoid them like the plague. so consider the rest of this post a spoiler for the film:
******SPOILERS BELOW************
Hi, I'm Russell Crowe, I'm here to be serious and explain the plot to you while looking magnificent in my beard. And that's what happened, anytime Crowe turns up, it's time to pay attention, without him it was breakneck action but too breakneck. What makes action really affect an audience is the feeling of peril. You were never given a chance to establish peril, you weren't really given a moment to understand what all of blurry images actually were. So many special effects were shoehorned into most scenes I think even George Lucas would say 'hmmm, the screen is a little busy.' It wasn't all bad, in fact the movie is decent. There are some key advances I loved. The fact Lois knows Clark is Superman from the offset of the Clark Kent character is very welcome, she's meant to be an award winning journalist, the fact that she has been fooled by thick rimmed glasses and a change in hair style in previous incarnations undermined the character. Costner needing a tornado to take him out was fun too. Shannon was a solid Zod and Crowe was the sort of Jor El that should be there. I thought Cavill was very good as well in the tights but it still remains to be seen if he can play Kent anywhere near as good as Reeve did. The story just lacked, well, story. One of the biggest cornerstones of Superman is 'he doesn't kill.' With the climax this is pushed to the max, however this fact wasn't established at any point. That left you thinking 'snap his neck already.'
So decent. Which means a bit of a let down. It's no Superman 1 or 2. Not by a mile. But the studio will be rolling in money from it so I'm sure they'll be cool.
Bit of a downswing and stagnation. I've sort of lost my way a little. The game just isn't clicking at the moment and I'm getting a little tetchy with it. I don't think I'm seeing the hands as a whole, or the session as a story, imo you need to do that to see where the game is flowing and what the dynamics are at that time. At times I'm just punting.
So time to close some leaks. The ones I am after right now are:
1) Make more and better notes. 2) See the range of a villain rather than the most likely. Because when I see that most likely holding and decide it makes no sense I've been hitting the middle button and then seeing a completely different kind of better hand. 3) Concentrate throughout the session. No fiddling about with FB, Twitter, Skype or Sporcle during a session. 4) Adjust my shove/call ranges for sub 20bb stacks. I think in some cases I've gone too nitty, in others too loose. 5) I think a dash of weak play has crept into my game. Stop being tight weak or loose weak. Stop falling into a passive line so much.
Darn that's a lovely checklist to beginning with. How to humble yourself, I suck at this game. Onwards.
1) It's now taking me about four days to recover from 90s Sunday league football. I'm seriously considering taking ice baths after every game to aid recovery. To do this I'm gonna have to get more of those ice tray things. Oh and buy another freezer. Not sure it'll take, maybe lots of frozen peas?
2) The Hound is bigger, bolder, cuter and naughtier. She just slipped the lead about twenty minutes ago while we were in the park. It let me find out that my rugby tackling skills are still there but my shoulder still doesn't like the landing. She is in very rude health though and a bundle of furry joy.
3) Summer UKOPS starts tonight. Reeling in young Mr Bates on the SS leaderboard begins now in earnest. Am I playing great? No, but we're getting there. I'm coming for you bud.
So two days in to the UKOPS series and where are we at?
Well firstly I suck at Run/Win The Button. I've gone into both of those tournaments with a game plan then decided to ignore said game plan and spew like a good 'un. The main and side on Day one were going okish, got a decent length into both without building up that stack I want for a truly deep run. Then I ran into a roadblock with both by losing standard hands.
Managed a 3rd in last night's side but tbh I made a bad call which cost me. Both oppos started open jamming 20BB-30BB stacks after I got into the final three with half of the chips in play. Not a bad strategy if they don't fancy playing flops with me or each other. The bad call was with 7s against a massive 3bet jam. I should have let that one go, was couple of pips too light. Nevermind.
So that and another small cash leaves us slightly ahead so far in the series. Not the crushing blow I need to catch Mr B, as of yet of course.
Main event tonight, everyone have fun and run good!
Hi Tommy I've heard the same. I go to a website called "Isnnews.net" and they've said the same. Lets hope it is a big role Posted by walesboy
If it's Luthor is should be a massive role with limited screen time (the best way to use a villain, think Hackman in Superman 1).
I'll be interested to see which Lex incarnation they will go for. In the comics he has mainly been either a mad scientist or a criminal industrialist/kingpin. In Breaking Bad well, Cranston's character has been both. I think it's great casting even though I'm a little worried they are pulling the trigger on a Supes/Bats crossover too quickly and in response to The Avengers (which was unreal good imo). Marvel set the ground work for that over several films, DC are abandoning the Dark Knight Trilogy by all accounts so they are going for it after one film which is a little shaky, especially as imo that film was a disappointment.
So I have had what can only be described as 'A Morning.' The good news for everyone reading is there is a strong chance you'll get to point and laugh at me at some point in this post. There is a chance it will be tl;dr so me being the kind gentleman I am, I'll start with the cliffs:
Crazy Sunday League Ref attempts to give me a heart attack.
A 'Be a Good Samaritan' spot probably turned into a 'Get Scammed' spot and now all of my faith is in the basket of a stranger's potential love for David Ginola.
Sunday League football, that vain attempt by the passed it and never had it to convince themselves they can play a bit. I've played it for around fifteen years. The mighty JG Chingford, wearing a new colour this season that can only be compared to a cheap knock off of a Norwich 1980s kit, have started the season well. A few wins, only the one defeat, things were looking rosy. This morning the rain was smacking the window sideways, and as is the way of these things an eighteen man squad became bare eleven men good and true for kick off. Must be some flu going around. We started the game ok, it was one one around forty or so minutes in and my thoughts drifted to having a nice sit down for five minutes. Hello middle age, I've been expecting you. So I turn to the Ref and ask him 'How long?' He replies 'Fifteen minutes.' FIFTEEN? WHAT? 'It's the way I do it,' he continued 'I stop the watch every time the ball goes out of play.' Every throw in. Every goal kick. Everything. I've never played twenty five minutes of first half injury time before, I can't say I'd like to again.
Eventually, after two and a half hours since kick off, we trudged off the field defeated 6-4. Well some trudged, I crawled while blowing out of all the available orifices. They had subs, we didn't. It showed. I still thanked the Ref though. That's the joy of being part of the lowest tier in the Sunday League pyramid, you get to meet interesting people. The Refs are either extraordinarily keen youngsters who want to make a real go of being a Ref (these depress me as I am legit old enough to be their father now) or people who want to do it. Also called loons. Some have the vision of Arsene Wenger. Others have the the mid drift of the Staypuff Marshmello man and never leave the centre circle. But I respect them all, I wouldn't want to referee the calibre of Sunday League footballers and we can't have the game without them. Even when, like today, they try to kill me.
So defeated, depressed and late for dinner I drove homewards. Here is where I may (ok almost definitely) got scammed. I join the sliproad for the North Circ and notice a broken down car on the left with its owner frantically trying to flag someone down. Yes I know, I should drive on, everyone else was. But I really don't like that attitude, one all to prevalent in London, and I like to think if I was in a pickle some kind soul would do me a solid, that's why I always stop. So I pull up and wind down a window. The fellow, a Middle Eastern chap, says his first word to me. 'English?' A tickle of dread tingles down my spine, my mind flashes back to an afternoon at the Gare Du Nord in Paris. I was waiting outside the toliets in the terminal while a now Ex was doing what nature intended, and I remember watching a fleet of female beggars swoop towards a disembarking Eurostar. Their first words to everyone leaving the train was 'English?' If the person said no they simply moved on. If a plucky Brit said 'Yes' then half a dozen would swarm the man or woman, panhandling for a few Euros. That day I pretended to be Spanish, apparently I look a little Mediterranean when I don't shave. It worked that time but now I was a little stuck.
He flew into a panicked monologue. I managed to catch the words 'No Money,' 'No petrol,' 'No credit card,' 'Wife,' 'Baby' and 'Manchester.' Now I know what you are thinking. It's a scam. Possibly a scamola. I was thinking the same. So now laugh at my naivety because I focussed on the chance he was telling the truth. He insisted he'd pay me back, producing his business card which looked like it was from a car dealership. I was dubious, but like I say, if I was ever in a real spot I would hope someone had the heart to help me out. So I gave him a tenner. The downside of this was ten quid won't get you to Lancashire and he spied the other note, similar orange, in my wallet. He insisted further for that one too, offering his ring. I said to him 'I don't want your ring, I'm just doing you a favour.' I relented on the second tenner, but then a slight glimmer of hope came into my heart as he threw the ring I had told him several times I didn't want into my car and walked away while saying 'thank you very much' about half a dozen times. I set off again, 95% sure I was scammed but with that glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, it was all true and I had helped out my fellow man. And you know what, if that happens five times, four being a scam and one being for real, I'd take that. I'd be happy with that. And I'd really like the rest of the world to take that view too. While the cops bust all of the scammer obviously. At a couple of points in my life I have had a gun pointed at my head or a knife aimed at my throat. Both times there was passers by (many in the case of the knife, it was broad daylight rush hour in Tottenham). Both times I caught someone's eye. Both times that person hurriedly looked at the floor and quickened their pace. No one ever called the police. No one ever helped. I hate that. That's why I always stop.
So this ring. Now I'm home I can have a real good look at it. He claimed it was 18 carat. I have no interest in rings or jewellery of any kind, I never wear a piece. Looking at it now I am really hoping that my Middle Eastern gentleman in distress once watched David Ginola on a Saturday afternoon, was mesmerized by his mazy running and flowing locks, fell instantly in love with that man and decided to get a custom gold ring made with his initials on its top. Because if that symbol on the top is meant to be Dolce and Gabbbana I am right royally done up like a kipper. The lettering is, shall we say, found wanting. Looking like a child wrote it. Below are the pictures of the ring. Now is there any way I can test to see if it is real gold without much expense or having to confess to another living soul I have this in my possession? Something really easy would be super, I've already been given a couple of suggestions but I'd like some more. I've very doubtful it's real gold. Heck I doubt it's been a ring for that long.
So laugh away. And keep this in mind if you're looking for that unique special item for a loved one this Christmas. Especially if you're married to David Ginola.
Comments
I'm really happy for him that it didn't come down to that though.
I misunderstood what you meant. I thought you were thinking that they went straight out for the play off. He certainly would have struggled in that case.
Would have been a close run thing the next day, I believe. He was playing beautifully and the crowd on the Monday would have been much smaller and less hostile. (hostile is wrong word).
Always feel it's a real anti-climax to have to come back the next day.
I think they have it about right at the 'real' Open with the 4 hole play off. Less of a lottery than 'sudden death' and a wonderful atmosphere.
A bit of a shaker the other day. I've had a long running gag. It's not that funny out of context and written on a forum but Shirley, our Beagle puppy, has a long running feud with pigeons. She can't get close to them though. She'll spot a couple pecking and waddling around in the garden, slowly stalk up to them playing a version of 'What's the time Mr Wolf?' She'll pause, creep, pause one paw hanging in the air, creep some more, get within five yards of the birds then SPRINT! And at this point the pigeons take flight and I say something like 'Shirley nil, pigeons 35.'
That changed somewhat a couple of days ago. I was just chilling in front of the box when the GF would scream 'She's got a bird!' I run out and there is the Hound, proud as punch holding a brown bird in her jaws. She wasn't chewing, but she was shaking and running around with the bird like it was one of her toys. She'd drop the bird in front of her and I could see the poor thing writhe but was unable to get upright or fly away. When I got close the dog scoops up the bird and runs around the garden, just like the game with the tennis ball we have.
In a few minutes I finally managed to separate dog and bird, chucking the dog in the house and closing all exits, then back to the bird. It was a Thrush, pretty little thing. Bigger than a sparrow, slighter than a pigeon. I have no idea how the dog got a bird, maybe the feathered thing was already injured, maybe it was just sloppy. I had a towel and a shoebox, I cradled that bird and set it on its side in an emergency bed I made for it within the cardboard. There was no marks or cuts or wounds on the body, but it was extremely frail and shocked. It stared at me, dazed and obviously in pain. I stroked the head and decided I was going to save this thing like it was a bad Children's TV drama. Then I saw it gasping at the beak, and the blood gently dripping from its mouth. The bird was reaching from its throat, over and over again. I frankly didn't know what to do, completely helpless and useless. Then the bird turned its head, stared at me. And stopped. Just stopped. I decided to do some ham-fisted avian CPR, pressing the chest and blowing gently into the beak, nothing happened. The thrush was limp and then when I picked it up (at this point I was mentally coming up with an electric shock idea involving the toaster, don't ask where that thought process was going) the head lolled down and I knew it was over.
I was emotionally invested to be frank and had failed. I guess the dog must had crushed something inside the Thrush and it either choked to death on its own blood or the organ damaged ceased to function. Tearful, I wandered towards the shed to find a spade to bury the poor thing. At this point comes the GF's only contribution to the event, placing the bird in a plastic bag while I'm in the shed, tying the bag up and putting it in the wheelie bin. Apparently this is easier. Sigh.
D the Elder has since told me the humane thing to do when a creature is in that way is to place it in a bag and smash its head in, humanely killing it quickly. I can't see me doing that. I can see me trying again with extremely little chance of success to save the bird. However, I'm not making that Shirley versus the birds joke again.
Pfft it has been up and down as of late. Having a decent month but every time I get going on a roll I get pinged back. Really looking forward to the SPT 6Max though.
I have a somewhat decent record in 2 Day SPTs when it comes to getting to Day 2, I generally make it. Had a few stacks as well. Sadly my Day 2 blow ups are becoming stuff of legend. Sick of it to be honest, need to get one to take. I'm pretty determined for the 6max (which will obviously mean I'm out before dinner) after lat year. I cashed yes but I screwed up a couple of hands, one in particular, which would have legitimately given my a FT shot. I need to be more composed live. You see online I do spin in my chair when I ping a set, I do shout hold, I do scream FOLD FOLD FOLD or CALL CALL CALL. This doesn't work as well live. Obviously I don't actually do that stuff live but the mist does come down, keeping the excitement inside does feel like it is over flowing at times and I just go blank to the whole picture. I need to be composed. First stop in this change, DTD Nottingham.
Good luck everyone, I hope to see everyone there.
But this was Shirley's chance of redemption. I grabbed the lead and after five minutes of chasing my dog around the garden, I have no idea how I got the only dog in the world which hates walking, we were off. Well I say off, we got to the pavement and Shirley spent two minutes licking her rear end. I hope this was a canine method of getting the scent and psyching up.
Up and down the local streets we went and boy was Shirley good. When I say good I mean distracted. For a Hound her focus was somewhat wavering. She chased after a boy on a bike, got scared of a pram, was very interested in a discarded coke can and decided to have a lie down half a dozen times. It's tiring work obviously, she needs her rest. Luckily I saw the owner a little while later and Bobbi had gotten into yet another garden and after getting a phonecall she was on her way to collect. All being well me and Super Hound retired back to the house. She expected a biscuit for all of her hard work. And because I can't say no to her hang down expression and big brown eyes she obviously got one. I'm such a mug for a cute face.
So I saw Man Of Steel the other day. You may or may not know I regard the original Christopher Reeve Superman movie as the one great comic book movie. Well I did up until last year, in my opinion there are now two. Nope, nothing with Batman in. Avengers did the unthinkable for me, they made an actual movie with the feel, texture, action, humour and character of a comic book without patronising either the source material or the audience. Nolan's Batman Trilogy are probably much better main stream films and undoubtedly very good, but they are straight action films based on the literature (and in my fanboy opinion mostly cannibalised patches of the classic works of Miller, Moore Morrison etc mashed together). Avengers was turning a comic book into a film.
Anyway, Man of Steel. Easily the third best Superman movie of all time. Probably not what they were shooting for. Now I hate spoilers, I avoid them like the plague. so consider the rest of this post a spoiler for the film:
******SPOILERS BELOW************
Hi, I'm Russell Crowe, I'm here to be serious and explain the plot to you while looking magnificent in my beard. And that's what happened, anytime Crowe turns up, it's time to pay attention, without him it was breakneck action but too breakneck. What makes action really affect an audience is the feeling of peril. You were never given a chance to establish peril, you weren't really given a moment to understand what all of blurry images actually were. So many special effects were shoehorned into most scenes I think even George Lucas would say 'hmmm, the screen is a little busy.' It wasn't all bad, in fact the movie is decent. There are some key advances I loved. The fact Lois knows Clark is Superman from the offset of the Clark Kent character is very welcome, she's meant to be an award winning journalist, the fact that she has been fooled by thick rimmed glasses and a change in hair style in previous incarnations undermined the character. Costner needing a tornado to take him out was fun too. Shannon was a solid Zod and Crowe was the sort of Jor El that should be there. I thought Cavill was very good as well in the tights but it still remains to be seen if he can play Kent anywhere near as good as Reeve did. The story just lacked, well, story. One of the biggest cornerstones of Superman is 'he doesn't kill.' With the climax this is pushed to the max, however this fact wasn't established at any point. That left you thinking 'snap his neck already.'
So decent. Which means a bit of a let down. It's no Superman 1 or 2. Not by a mile. But the studio will be rolling in money from it so I'm sure they'll be cool.
Bit of a downswing and stagnation. I've sort of lost my way a little. The game just isn't clicking at the moment and I'm getting a little tetchy with it. I don't think I'm seeing the hands as a whole, or the session as a story, imo you need to do that to see where the game is flowing and what the dynamics are at that time. At times I'm just punting.
So time to close some leaks. The ones I am after right now are:
1) Make more and better notes.
2) See the range of a villain rather than the most likely. Because when I see that most likely holding and decide it makes no sense I've been hitting the middle button and then seeing a completely different kind of better hand.
3) Concentrate throughout the session. No fiddling about with FB, Twitter, Skype or Sporcle during a session.
4) Adjust my shove/call ranges for sub 20bb stacks. I think in some cases I've gone too nitty, in others too loose.
5) I think a dash of weak play has crept into my game. Stop being tight weak or loose weak. Stop falling into a passive line so much.
Darn that's a lovely checklist to beginning with. How to humble yourself, I suck at this game. Onwards.
GL all. And for Slyklist. NH.
1) It's now taking me about four days to recover from 90s Sunday league football. I'm seriously considering taking ice baths after every game to aid recovery. To do this I'm gonna have to get more of those ice tray things. Oh and buy another freezer. Not sure it'll take, maybe lots of frozen peas?
2) The Hound is bigger, bolder, cuter and naughtier. She just slipped the lead about twenty minutes ago while we were in the park. It let me find out that my rugby tackling skills are still there but my shoulder still doesn't like the landing. She is in very rude health though and a bundle of furry joy.
3) Summer UKOPS starts tonight. Reeling in young Mr Bates on the SS leaderboard begins now in earnest. Am I playing great? No, but we're getting there. I'm coming for you bud.
Well firstly I suck at Run/Win The Button. I've gone into both of those tournaments with a game plan then decided to ignore said game plan and spew like a good 'un. The main and side on Day one were going okish, got a decent length into both without building up that stack I want for a truly deep run. Then I ran into a roadblock with both by losing standard hands.
Managed a 3rd in last night's side but tbh I made a bad call which cost me. Both oppos started open jamming 20BB-30BB stacks after I got into the final three with half of the chips in play. Not a bad strategy if they don't fancy playing flops with me or each other. The bad call was with 7s against a massive 3bet jam. I should have let that one go, was couple of pips too light. Nevermind.
So that and another small cash leaves us slightly ahead so far in the series. Not the crushing blow I need to catch Mr B, as of yet of course.
Main event tonight, everyone have fun and run good!
Just goes to show the old saying is true, what you lose on the Afflecks you win on the Cranstons...
I'll be interested to see which Lex incarnation they will go for. In the comics he has mainly been either a mad scientist or a criminal industrialist/kingpin. In Breaking Bad well, Cranston's character has been both. I think it's great casting even though I'm a little worried they are pulling the trigger on a Supes/Bats crossover too quickly and in response to The Avengers (which was unreal good imo). Marvel set the ground work for that over several films, DC are abandoning the Dark Knight Trilogy by all accounts so they are going for it after one film which is a little shaky, especially as imo that film was a disappointment.
Crazy Sunday League Ref attempts to give me a heart attack.
A 'Be a Good Samaritan' spot probably turned into a 'Get Scammed' spot and now all of my faith is in the basket of a stranger's potential love for David Ginola.
Sunday League football, that vain attempt by the passed it and never had it to convince themselves they can play a bit. I've played it for around fifteen years. The mighty JG Chingford, wearing a new colour this season that can only be compared to a cheap knock off of a Norwich 1980s kit, have started the season well. A few wins, only the one defeat, things were looking rosy. This morning the rain was smacking the window sideways, and as is the way of these things an eighteen man squad became bare eleven men good and true for kick off. Must be some flu going around. We started the game ok, it was one one around forty or so minutes in and my thoughts drifted to having a nice sit down for five minutes. Hello middle age, I've been expecting you. So I turn to the Ref and ask him 'How long?' He replies 'Fifteen minutes.' FIFTEEN? WHAT? 'It's the way I do it,' he continued 'I stop the watch every time the ball goes out of play.' Every throw in. Every goal kick. Everything. I've never played twenty five minutes of first half injury time before, I can't say I'd like to again.
Eventually, after two and a half hours since kick off, we trudged off the field defeated 6-4. Well some trudged, I crawled while blowing out of all the available orifices. They had subs, we didn't. It showed. I still thanked the Ref though. That's the joy of being part of the lowest tier in the Sunday League pyramid, you get to meet interesting people. The Refs are either extraordinarily keen youngsters who want to make a real go of being a Ref (these depress me as I am legit old enough to be their father now) or people who want to do it. Also called loons. Some have the vision of Arsene Wenger. Others have the the mid drift of the Staypuff Marshmello man and never leave the centre circle. But I respect them all, I wouldn't want to referee the calibre of Sunday League footballers and we can't have the game without them. Even when, like today, they try to kill me.
So defeated, depressed and late for dinner I drove homewards. Here is where I may (ok almost definitely) got scammed. I join the sliproad for the North Circ and notice a broken down car on the left with its owner frantically trying to flag someone down. Yes I know, I should drive on, everyone else was. But I really don't like that attitude, one all to prevalent in London, and I like to think if I was in a pickle some kind soul would do me a solid, that's why I always stop. So I pull up and wind down a window. The fellow, a Middle Eastern chap, says his first word to me. 'English?' A tickle of dread tingles down my spine, my mind flashes back to an afternoon at the Gare Du Nord in Paris. I was waiting outside the toliets in the terminal while a now Ex was doing what nature intended, and I remember watching a fleet of female beggars swoop towards a disembarking Eurostar. Their first words to everyone leaving the train was 'English?' If the person said no they simply moved on. If a plucky Brit said 'Yes' then half a dozen would swarm the man or woman, panhandling for a few Euros. That day I pretended to be Spanish, apparently I look a little Mediterranean when I don't shave. It worked that time but now I was a little stuck.
He flew into a panicked monologue. I managed to catch the words 'No Money,' 'No petrol,' 'No credit card,' 'Wife,' 'Baby' and 'Manchester.' Now I know what you are thinking. It's a scam. Possibly a scamola. I was thinking the same. So now laugh at my naivety because I focussed on the chance he was telling the truth. He insisted he'd pay me back, producing his business card which looked like it was from a car dealership. I was dubious, but like I say, if I was ever in a real spot I would hope someone had the heart to help me out. So I gave him a tenner. The downside of this was ten quid won't get you to Lancashire and he spied the other note, similar orange, in my wallet. He insisted further for that one too, offering his ring. I said to him 'I don't want your ring, I'm just doing you a favour.' I relented on the second tenner, but then a slight glimmer of hope came into my heart as he threw the ring I had told him several times I didn't want into my car and walked away while saying 'thank you very much' about half a dozen times. I set off again, 95% sure I was scammed but with that glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, it was all true and I had helped out my fellow man. And you know what, if that happens five times, four being a scam and one being for real, I'd take that. I'd be happy with that. And I'd really like the rest of the world to take that view too. While the cops bust all of the scammer obviously. At a couple of points in my life I have had a gun pointed at my head or a knife aimed at my throat. Both times there was passers by (many in the case of the knife, it was broad daylight rush hour in Tottenham). Both times I caught someone's eye. Both times that person hurriedly looked at the floor and quickened their pace. No one ever called the police. No one ever helped. I hate that. That's why I always stop.
So this ring. Now I'm home I can have a real good look at it. He claimed it was 18 carat. I have no interest in rings or jewellery of any kind, I never wear a piece. Looking at it now I am really hoping that my Middle Eastern gentleman in distress once watched David Ginola on a Saturday afternoon, was mesmerized by his mazy running and flowing locks, fell instantly in love with that man and decided to get a custom gold ring made with his initials on its top. Because if that symbol on the top is meant to be Dolce and Gabbbana I am right royally done up like a kipper. The lettering is, shall we say, found wanting. Looking like a child wrote it. Below are the pictures of the ring. Now is there any way I can test to see if it is real gold without much expense or having to confess to another living soul I have this in my possession? Something really easy would be super, I've already been given a couple of suggestions but I'd like some more. I've very doubtful it's real gold. Heck I doubt it's been a ring for that long.
So laugh away. And keep this in mind if you're looking for that unique special item for a loved one this Christmas. Especially if you're married to David Ginola.