If you want to know how someone who knows shit about a subject bull shitting his way through, I say, start reading this Straits Times' ah neh commentary about World Cup football.
Google his name and you'll be wondering why SPH has bypassed all eligible local grads to secure this FT's service (probably pandering to the growing ah neh population's appetite for cricket news, I suppose). There must be a dearth of local talents familiar with the game of football, Singapore's national sport, able to write commentary.
Mr Brijnath, if you are reading this, please, for curry's sake, write what you want about cricket, but stop trying to fool locals with what little you know about this beautiful game of football.
You think we cannot see through your ignorance? Using flowery analogies to conceal the absolute lack of depth and substance in your article?
You can fool your gullible editor, but not locals like us who have been fed a constant diet of Fandhi Ahmad, Sundram, David Lee and other greats.
http://news.asiaone.com/news/sports/moment-when-spains-slip-became-slide
The moment when Spain's slip became a slide
Rohit Brijnath
The Straits Times
Tuesday, Jun 17, 2014
SINGAPORE - He, the balding man who plays football like a physics professor with a superior understanding of time and space, designs a perfect pass. No one blinks, this is Spain's Andres Iniesta, who turns football into cerebral art.
It is the 42nd minute. Spain are 1-0.
The pass comes to David Silva. His nickname is Merlin. But even wizards can miss a trick. He has only the goalkeeper to beat and as a moment it resembles the 2010 World Cup final, 63rd minute, no score, and Arjen Robben with only goalkeeper Iker Casillas to beat.
Then, Robben's shot hits Casillas' trailing right foot and bounces wide. Now, Silva's chip ricochets off Dutch goalkeeper Jasper Cillessen's flailing hands and goes out.
At the 44th minute: A cross from the left and Robin van Persie does what we prefer strikers to do: He dives, legitimately, in the penalty area to score a goal so splendid it makes hair and a planet stand. As Vincent van Gogh, another Dutch artist, once said: "What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?"
It is 1-1. Two minutes, two chances, but only one goal.
Sophocles, the Greek writer of tragedies, once noted that "I have no desire to suffer twice, in reality and then in retrospect". But in sport, retrospect, or a contemplation of the past, is fundamental.
Erik Spoelstra, the Miami Heat coach, led his team into the film room recently to watch a painful defeat. As critics we look back, too, sifting through games like sporting archaeologists, trying to identify moments when matches swung or empires teetered.
Perhaps for Spain it was here. In these two minutes.
Had Silva scored, it would be 2-0. For Spain, 2-0 could mean momentum and confidence. For the Dutch, 0-2 could be deflating and damaging. We don't know for sure. What we do know is that the threads on which victory hang are thin. Just one point. One putt. One chance.
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Google his name and you'll be wondering why SPH has bypassed all eligible local grads to secure this FT's service (probably pandering to the growing ah neh population's appetite for cricket news, I suppose). There must be a dearth of local talents familiar with the game of football, Singapore's national sport, able to write commentary.
Mr Brijnath, if you are reading this, please, for curry's sake, write what you want about cricket, but stop trying to fool locals with what little you know about this beautiful game of football.
You think we cannot see through your ignorance? Using flowery analogies to conceal the absolute lack of depth and substance in your article?
You can fool your gullible editor, but not locals like us who have been fed a constant diet of Fandhi Ahmad, Sundram, David Lee and other greats.
http://news.asiaone.com/news/sports/moment-when-spains-slip-became-slide
The moment when Spain's slip became a slide
Rohit Brijnath
The Straits Times
Tuesday, Jun 17, 2014
SINGAPORE - He, the balding man who plays football like a physics professor with a superior understanding of time and space, designs a perfect pass. No one blinks, this is Spain's Andres Iniesta, who turns football into cerebral art.
It is the 42nd minute. Spain are 1-0.
The pass comes to David Silva. His nickname is Merlin. But even wizards can miss a trick. He has only the goalkeeper to beat and as a moment it resembles the 2010 World Cup final, 63rd minute, no score, and Arjen Robben with only goalkeeper Iker Casillas to beat.
Then, Robben's shot hits Casillas' trailing right foot and bounces wide. Now, Silva's chip ricochets off Dutch goalkeeper Jasper Cillessen's flailing hands and goes out.
At the 44th minute: A cross from the left and Robin van Persie does what we prefer strikers to do: He dives, legitimately, in the penalty area to score a goal so splendid it makes hair and a planet stand. As Vincent van Gogh, another Dutch artist, once said: "What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?"
It is 1-1. Two minutes, two chances, but only one goal.
Sophocles, the Greek writer of tragedies, once noted that "I have no desire to suffer twice, in reality and then in retrospect". But in sport, retrospect, or a contemplation of the past, is fundamental.
Erik Spoelstra, the Miami Heat coach, led his team into the film room recently to watch a painful defeat. As critics we look back, too, sifting through games like sporting archaeologists, trying to identify moments when matches swung or empires teetered.
Perhaps for Spain it was here. In these two minutes.
Had Silva scored, it would be 2-0. For Spain, 2-0 could mean momentum and confidence. For the Dutch, 0-2 could be deflating and damaging. We don't know for sure. What we do know is that the threads on which victory hang are thin. Just one point. One putt. One chance.
Pages
•1
•2
