uwe rosler 28
Well-Known Member
The only person on the world that didnt know how leicester would play was our manager. that is worrying.
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master; If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
(Copyright: that guy that makes cakes)
Or in other words. Stop being winging fucking fannys
That's all about faith, not blind faith.
Softarse.
There's no guarantee of success at any time in the Premier League.
How on earth did you survive the 90's? I guess you didn't go a lot then, as we weren't good enough for you.
I was absolutely fuming yesterday, said after the first two went in we'd let at least 4 in, sad to say I was proven right. How on earth Kolarov still gets a game for us is a mystery!
Only ever left about three games early, yesterday was one of them.
Still had a good day out with friends though, few beers, lad I know that doesn't get to go too often was happy to grab a late spare ticket too
Nothing to do with being a softarse ya prick. Surviving the 90s was easy as none of us expected anything but even then we would put in a tackle or at least show some effort in defence. This bunch of overpaid pampered footballers cant do even the basics right and the least I expect for my effort and my hard earned cash is to see some effort on their part. Not a lot to ask.
I think he knew and still believed that Kolorov was the right pick. Thats even more worrying to me.The only person on the world that didnt know how leicester would play was our manager. that is worrying.
But the striker wasn't doing anything because of the service (lack thereof) and Nolito can act as a striker so it was a decent change (in my mind)
I'm with you!If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master; If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
(Copyright: that guy that makes cakes)
Or in other words. Stop being winging fucking fannys