Conversations at the gym

I love going to the gym, not only because I like to take care of myself and build muscle, but also because you get some extremely funny characters in the gym.

Especially in the south of Johannesburg. A normal topic of conversation is football, although I was not the best football player in the world, and it is not my number one supported sport, I do follow the game and favor the red half of Manchester.The majority of the enthusiasts at the gym like me favor the Red Devils, however there are the occasional Liverpool supporters, and because they are outnumbered, they are very vocal.

And I don't know if it is just me, but the Liverpool supporters are the biggest bunch of sour bastards in the world. Ok fine, this season they have a right to be because Manchester United have finally become the most successful team in England after passing Liverpool's record of 19 league titles. But in general they are just sour. Instead of congratulating another team on a fantastic win, they will bitch and moan.

I provide an excerpt of a conversation between me and a certain Mr H over a few tricep pull downs at the gym last night. Mr H is a huge Liverpool fan.

Me: Evening Mr H, did you watch any of the football this weekend?
Mr H: F##king Blackburn Rovers should be f##king banned from the league for life. Saturday's result was a f##king disgrace.
Me: Easy Mr H!
Mr H: F##k easy, your team just overtook my team as the most successful team in England all because Rovers took a cheaque to f##king fall apart in the second half for the point.

At this point Mr Wolf comes into the conversation who is quite possibly the biggest United fan at the gym. I am purposely leaving out names in this post because I don't want the whole gym after me like the Yanks went after Bin Laden.

Mr Wolf: F##KING HELL H, you are just sore because your team hasn't won anything since Istanbul 2005. Come the end of the month we will be not only champions of England but champions of Europe too!
Mr H: Are you sure about that Wolf?
Me: So sure that he has put the house on the result.
Mr H: So come Sunday the 29th Ill be pulling into the gym parking lot seeing Wolf sleeping in his car! Shame!
Wolf: Perhaps some rich bitch will find me, take pity on me, and offer to take me into her mansion on the hill here!

As we are about to move onto our next exercises, one of the biggest bullshitters in the South moves into the machine next to us and proclaims.

"Geez you people can talk shit! But I dont come here to train I come for the bints. Look at that Thai girl over there. If my wife had assets like hers I wouldn't be going out at nights!"

The south is the best place in the world to gym!

Perceptions of sociaty

Good Monday all.

One of the most popular posts that I wrote on this blog concerns the fifteen years that South Africa has lived through democracy and the fact that as much as things change, they stay the same with regards to race and race relations.

It amazes me how people portray others and assign them certain 'hats'. These 'hats' that I am referring to is a metaphorical term for personality traits.

And we have all heard them before: The men from Cape Town are a bunch of queers. The people from the eastern suburbs of Johannesburg are a bunch of drunk inbreds with three heads. The people from the northern suburbs of Johannesburg are a bunch of rich daddy's kids who cant fight.

These all sound very familiar right? Personally I don't believe in assigning these 'hats' to people because I am not one to judge. However, after watching the FA Cup Semi Final between Manchester United and Manchester City on the weekend in the eastern suburbs of Joburg. I can understand why people participate in this practice.

At the table next to us was a bunch of people in their early to late fourties watching the rugby game between the Stormers and the Lions. They were obviously drinking as if the day of judgment was near because as soon as they put down their shots of Sambuca, the waitress came back to the table with another round. In between all of the noise of people cheering either for the Stormers, Lions or Manchester United, I heard two people at the said table comment: ons gaan onsself fucked up om te drink totdat hulle voer ons uit hierdie plek! For my international audience who cannot speak Afrikaans, basically this means: we are going to drink ourselfs fucked up until they carry us out of this place!

I mean, this just gives fuel to the fire that people think that the Eastern Joburgers can do nothing else but drink, so why make proclamations such as this? Because following from that will be the rumors that they are going to go home and pump their sisters.....and ....and...and.

I don't give a shit about the Lions, in fact I knew that they were in for a hiding, it was just a case of how big it was going to be. But the fact that Manchester United played with absolutely no imagination what so ever pissed me off. And then every time United made a mistake, the table of drinkers would make a loud comment about it hoping to coax the lion in me to come out.

This would have been the case had it not been for their waitress who was also serving our table. She gave me a gentle flirtatious smile and mentioned that I needn't worry they wouldn't be there long. No sooner had the words came our of her mouth then one of the stauncher Manchester United fans actually took up the challenge, which saw the askria burst into the establishment kicking tables and chairs over like S.W.A.T and arresting most of the men from the table of drinker.

No sooner had the askria left then the women at the table of drinkers started challenging anyone they could find to a fight. And almost as if by magic the Manchester United fan's wife picked up an empty bottle and bottled the offending lady over her head.

As the remaining people from the table of drinkers carried the unconscious woman out of the establishment, a friend of mine at our table thought that this was the best thing ever so he invited the couple over to our table. Asking the United girl why she did it she proclaimed: I coome from blooooody Manchester! We like a good scrap we do! Toook me back to the old days at the Cockney Inn!

It wasn't until I was taking my lady friend Kim home that she mentioned to me that its events like this that perpetuate the cycle of providing people with 'hats'

Welcome to the human race!

It’s hard to make decisions staring down the barrel of a smoking gun Part II

The sporting world is the best escape imaginable. After watching a few sporting events this week, it perplexes me that there are even people in the world who have no interest in sports.

I reported last week that the British and Irish Lions are on tour and they will have a tough time making decisions as they staring down the proverbial barrel of a smoking gun.

But what of those teams who go into a tournament/match as favorites and everything goes wrong? In this instance its even harder to make said decisions.

It all started last week Wednesday when a certain Manchester United traveled to the eternal city of Rome to take on Barcelona in the Champions League final. Although many acknowledged that it would not be one-way traffic. It was widely believed that the Red Devils where the favorites going into the match.

Turns out that the scaly Brits from Manchester never even pitched for the match. Don’t get me wrong, there were on the field, but they were completely dominated to the extent that even the staunch Man U supporters, you know the Porras who support the club because of Ronaldo who they regard as a fake Porra because he comes from Madeira, acknowledged that Man U were never in the game.

All indications point towards geriatric Alex Ferguson’s poor selection of the side going into the game. Many believe that Man U would have faired better with Dimatar Berbatov or Carlos Tevez upfront instead of plating an extra man in midfield. But Ferguson stuck by his guns going into the match, and is a firm believer of players getting themselves out of trouble on the field.

Some will argue that it is tantamount to suicide to play that way in the final. But it’s hard to make decisions staring down the barrel of a smoking gun.

The second final this week was the Super 14 final which saw my boys from New Zealand The Chiefs take on the most hated rugby team in South Africa The Bulls.

With it being the final, many thought that it would be a tight affair. And when the Chiefs scored first it looked like it was headed in that direction, but then the Bulls hit back with 3 quick tries in the first half, which started an onslaught that really couldn’t be stopped.

Some argued that it the Chiefs contested better on the ground then they would have had a chance. Some also felt that Steven Donald put too much emphasis on the passing game where a kicking game would have served the team better. But as always, hindsight is a great thing, and in the heat of the moment it’s hard to make decisions staring down the barrel of a smoking gun.

Even Hitler was pissed off that the Chiefs lost. See below:




The final shock of the weekend is the early exit of Rafael Nadal from the French Open courtesy of lowly ranked Swede Robin Soderling. By all accounts Soderling came out to play and set a blistering early pace taking Nadal’s power game out of the picture.

Nadal could have fought back and won the match had he slowed the game down to a pace that suits him. However, that is all easier said then done and it’s hard to make such decisions staring down the barrel of a smoking gun.

In other news, the British lions came through their first South African outing unscathed, although they were behind for the majority of the match. Looking at the side that ran out. 8 of the players that Ian McGeechan picked for the team on the weekend maches my selection for the first test. So I'm almost there.