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Post by Deleted on Sept 3, 2014 19:23:48 GMT
There are afternoons when you feel a shiver run down your spine, when you're tense as a violin string, as it continues in a cold sweat at every turn by hand . There are afternoons when 11 men in shorts make you suffer like few things in your life, not even as if you were deciding of your existence. There are those afternoons when Stoke City stormed the Etihad Stadium and make you realize that the suffering increases the pleasure of victory.
It seemed an afternoon like many others, in truth. The Potters play at Manchester City, and there seems to be history. Citizens I start the attack, they want to gobble up the field. course, our heroes have no intention of giving up, they have never done in their lives and sure will not do it today. After less than a minute, the captain, Ryan Shawcross, does taste his cleats and his savoir-faire to Kun Aguero. If you want to go from here, at least you know what you are in, Sergio.
Philip Bardsley, Scottish blood, right back of the Potters, mena as a blacksmith. It is to understand that he was trained in the youth of the United, mica is a game like any other for this guy . What makes you feel at Nasri, Jovetic, Silva, how tough life can be for people who spend there.
Meanwhile, it starts hurting. After 15 'the possession reads 88% Manchester City, Stoke 12%. Sooner or later the fort Begovic is destined to fall, just a hunch, a stroke of genius, a play of one of the many Samples paid millions of flowers. We, in the meantime (we apologize if we use the first person plural, right?) Are entrenched in our trocar. Peter Crouch is abandoned like a dog without a master , sometimes Moses test some acceleration, then raises his head, and did not see even a companion nearby.
At minute 30, in the Stoke area there are already more than 9 mesh white and red green Begovic, who had already done some miraculous intervention. Suffering and sweating, between a kick and a sweep, comes the minute 45 and the double whistle of the referee. 's start to think that maybe, perhaps, with the help of Our Lady, we can return to Stoke on Trent with a punticino, valuable as platinum.
When the current time, we are already counting how much time is remaining. How many seconds should pass up to the minute number 90, that of redemption. then, suddenly, at 58 ', we retrieve a ball on our frontline . The City is sbilanciatissimo, they were all in our mid-field. Poor fools, still do not know us?
Mame Biram Diouf flies off guard, jumps at full speed through the defense. It 's just in front of Joe Hart. How alone in front of Joe Hart? How the heck happened? The clock seems to stop, Diouf seems to have even the time to think. Shoot a ciofeca, a central slipper. But that goes under the glove of Hart, which combines another OF his. Incredible. We scored.
No, come on, really? We are in the lead? But how did we, boys? Dunno, there are questions to which you do not need to answer. Of course, we know what we have to do. Industry backs, guys . Time is a relative concept in the damn football. If you are Stoke City, in Manchester and you are winning, half-hour can last a century.
We start to sweat, to insult the Saints of the Gregorian calendar for each descent of Jesus Navas on the BANDright. penalty That area seems the GRA at rush hour. blasphemies included. Every ball that comes close to Begovic makes us a principle of a heart attack.
Let's look at the clock one, two, three, ten, twenty times. Never goes out, man. On another counter-attack risk making 2-0 Odemwingie but if devours him. Well there is, so we learn to discover us. Let's go back in the trenches. At one point, after yet another risk course, we realize that it is the ninetieth. Yes, with a capital N because it is as if it were Christmas. 4 of recovery.
At that moment, it seems that the whole universe can not stand another 4 minutes, let alone if we make it we still resisting in this unseemly, dirty, filthy trenches. figured if no tie.
But, no tie, do not pull into port even in those 4 minutes. whistle. 's over, oh. 'OVER REALLY. Without knowing how, we made ??full loot. 3 points to Manchester. Which story, guys. How nice it is to cheer Stoke City.
Valerio Nicastro twitter: valerionicastro
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Post by Fenparkpotter on Sept 3, 2014 20:04:23 GMT
FORZA STOKE
Love Italy and Italian people... spend a lot of time in Sicily and in the Aeolian Islands, the football supporters down there are often complimentary about us!
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Post by richardparker on Sept 4, 2014 21:12:44 GMT
Hi Valerio, FORZA FOGGIA! ...talking of little teams, how are my first and only Italian team doing at the minute? I know Foggia well. (My mum was born there)! Half the city supported Milan or Juve, even when they had their 5 minutes of fame in Italy's top flight. They punched above their weight for a few seasons but then the Mafia went and ruined my club and my city!
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