Insanity of Jordan 11 Concord

23rd Dec would have been circled since the start of the year for sneakerheads. Its re-release 12:00am this morning of Jordan 11 Concords was met with hysteria all around the world.

To begin to understand the hysteria you’d have to be one of us. For the people who love shoes, explaining or understanding the fascination is beside the point. The latest Jordan 11 re-release has played out like the golden ticket in Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, but with web servers and eBay and overwhelmed shoe stores everywhere. Exactly the way it happened 15 years ago, when the shoes first hit the market.

Jordan 11s are the one shoe that really did feel magical when it came out. There's never been an athlete so magnetic like Michael Jordan, and he lent a mystique to shoes that we'd never seen before or since.

In 1995 he was at the height of his powers. He'd just left the NBA for a year and a half, leaving the whole world begging for more, and then sending the world into ecstasy when finally decided to come back. And as we all became entranced by the Jordan mystique again, he was out there wearing these that futuristic-looking patent leather wrapped around the bottom of his shoe. If there'd been any doubt that he was the coolest athlete on earth, his shoes ended that debate.

16 years on, needless to say, this kicks remain the legendary king of all sneakers.

Hysteria around the world:

http://abcnews.go.com/Business/nike-air-jordan-xi-concord-shopping-frenzy/story?id=15220618#.TvT8VDWDv4s

http://www.csmonitor.com/USA/2011/1223/Air-Jordans-Sneakerheads-flock-to-grab-retro-kicks-VIDEO

http://www.waff.com/story/16383548/shoppers-throw-punches-while-waiting-for-sale-of-popular-tennis-shoe

240. Signing Off

Only the unloved hate...

Bye 2011, see you lot in 2012. Peace :)

239. Barca

“We teach the boys the same principles ​that any wise parent would teach to their children,” says Folguera. These principles are respect, responsibility, commitment, work, discipline, self-demanding and, above all, humility.

http://www.totalbarca.com/2011/youth/la-masia-the-value-of-having-values/

Not only do they have the best team in the world, and the best three players (Messi, Xavi and Iniesta), the best right back (Alves), the best defensive midfielder (Busquets), the best defender (Pique), and the best supporting cast (Fabregas, Thiago, Sanchez, Villa)...they also have the best youth team.

And all these guys are thought to have principles and values that would make any parent proud. No Beckhams, Bartons, Gerrards, and Lampards here. No, no. Only humility and old-fashioned values like hard work and discipline.

Bastards.

238. Holiday Cheers All Round

C'mon Chels. Spread some of that goodwill over the festive season. And if you're hating, then what the hell's a Mata with you?

Heh.

237. Summer 2012 Come Already

236. How To Get Your Groove Back

Without wanting to sound too jaded or cynical, let me just put this precious 'lil nugget out there...losing your mojo is an inevitable part of life.

Sooner or later, it's bound to happen. Sometimes it just sneaks up on you, like that little beer gut that doesn't seem so little any more, making you wonder just how did you let yourself turn into a slobbering pile of protoplasm that keeps on expanding.

Sometimes it hits you right smack in the face. As in getting a freaking epiphany whilst you're sitting through an umpteenth meeting to discuss the exact same thing in new and interesting ways that aren't really new and interesting. In fact, watching water evaporate while reciting the alphabet backwards would be infinitely more entertaining and sad to say, meaningful.

Sometimes you let it go willingly, letting it slowly slip away in the sunset with a wistful but dignified sigh. Other times you aren't about to let it go just yet, and hence you cling on...with your every being...wiling for that part of you that made you so cool before in days long gone to stay on, even when it might no longer exist in a way that makes sense any more.

And why would you let it go? Your mojo was your essence...it was who you were in your prime, that one thing that defined you and gave you your swagger bitch. People could say you faked this and that, but damn 'em if they said you faked your mojo. This ain't no strange Valley Girl hybrid accent we're talking about here. Not something you picked up after watching a season of the OC. No, this was your mojo dawg.

Like the fact that sometimes it seemed that you existed in some parallel dimension where everything about you seemed to move in slow motion. With your own theme music playing to boot. Or the fact that you could appear dark, mysterious and oblivious to the world, hinting of deep ocean of inner turmoil and pain beneath...when in fact you were really just pretty darn oblivious to the world, with a bad case of indigestion. Or the way you had about you that made everyone crazy, mad in love with you.

It's that twinkle in your eye that made you Mischief. That stupid bravery that made you indestructible. It's that steadfast self-belief that made you a leader in your group. It wasn't a switch you could you just turn on or off, or something that you consciously did. It was just there...something that came naturally, because it was real. And it was you. And it made you you to others.

Then one day...it goes away.

The Indy series lost it's mojo the moment Indy found himself fighting atomic bombs, a dominatrix Russian broad and visitors from another dimension

Probably the first sign of it slipping away is when you give up on the things that had special meaning for you in your youth (not masturbation you sicko). I mean those simple things that brought you infinite joy. Model-making...drawing...reading fantastical stories...writing fantastical stories...I dunno...even playing video games. Things that stirred the imagination.

It's stuff that defined you that you let go...one by one. Because you find other replacements as you grow and mature (but is it really a sign of maturity when you replace those simple joys with more sophisticated and expensive ones?). Things like accumulating material things...cars, condos, houses. Or trying to impress the chicks with whatever means you have.

Thing is...once you've let those bits that made you so different and interesting in the first place, it's pretty darn impossible to get it back. Like innocence lost.

So question is, like Stella...just how the heck do you get it back?

There's no easy answer I'm afraid. But the question you really should ask yourself...do you want it back? Is the person you are now the real you, and that person of the past just a work-in-progress before you discovered your true self? Or was the person you were before the real you, and the person you are now just a pale shadow?

Hmmmmm...

These guys never lost theirs...bastards...

235. Mistakes

Bound to be repeated if not forgotten.

That's bollocks. People always know their missteps even when they're making them. They know the ultimate result, but are curious enough, in a perverse sort of way, to see if things would work out differently. Even when they know it won't.

When you take a chance on something or someone, you tend to see it as that...a hopeful punt with the intention of it working out in the end.

But surely you'd be a fool if you've walked a similar path before and expect a different result. Right?

234. K-Pop Awesomeness

Can't get this shit outta my head. This should be the theme for when you walk slow-motion into a club. Or not.

233. A Season of Flourishes

My team Chelsea is a state of transition. Arguably, they've been in such state for the last 3 to 4 years. The season of the Double was an anomaly.

Ancelotti was the right coach, at the right time. He managed to coax out one last hurrah from the likes of Lampard, Drogba and Anelka. He saw that there was a trophy or two left in them. His method suited them. He did what he could, and when he couldn't deliver, he was disposed in cold, methodical fashion. Rightly or wrongly, he was out.

A replacement was found. Young and suave, multi-lingual, with a team that conquered Europe (albeit in a second-tier tourney) with vibrant progressive football. Villas-Boas was brought in at great cost. The man Abramovich chose to rebuild this aging and stagnant Chelsea side.

So far, with the spectacle that was the defeat to a youthful Man United, he's shown that he has the balls to play the sort of attacking football that Abramovich craves. He's also proven that he's not afraid to make tough decisions like the substitution of a rapidly fading Frank Lampard. He wants his team to play fast, fluid one touch football, with an emphasis of speed of thought and vertical passing.

So far, Torres has been the greatest beneficiary. It will take sometime yet to completely rebuild him into the Torres of old. Truthfully, the Torres of old may never again emerge...but Chelsea fans worldwide will settle for 75% of that old Torres. And in Juan Mata, they finally have the bit of flair and creativity that Chelsea had so lacked since the departure of Robben.

This Chelsea is still a work-in-progress. A trophy might still yet be beyond them this season. They're still a player or two lacking. Luka Modric would've made a vast difference to re-ignite an engine room so dependent on power and explosiveness rather than guile and control. Terry is no longer the Terry of old, his lack of pace and sometimes poor decision-making has cost Chelsea dear this season.

Modric, Hazard, Gotze. If only it were possible.

Nonetheless, this season looks to be an exciting time for Chelsea. With a few more months, and a wider understanding of the manager's ideas, this team should do well...and be a bigger threat to the continent next season.

Entourage

End of another era. Brilliant end track, take it away lads.

232. The Done Thing

There's these disembodied voices floating through the vast emptiness. It always calls out when you feel the void sometimes...you know, when you pause for a minute and think...hang a sec, you mean, this is it??? Seriously man???

Yep, you see other busy bees buzzing about, filling their own voids. Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, they drone. On and on. Makes you wonder. What are they buzzing around for?

If only things can be as simple and as wonderful as this...

231. Winter Has Come

No doubt. Game of Thrones has overtaken The Wire as my favourite TV series ever. Heck, it's even done the nigh impossible, achieving a greatness beyond what both the big screen and small screen are capable of.

There are just too many memorable characters and epic events in the series. People like Khal Drogo, who surely is the Baddest-Ass that ever lived (and that list includes such luminaries like Hit Girl and Roland the Gunslinger). In fact, these series is filled with them. From Bron the dastardly sword-for-hire, to pre-destined Jon Snow (who surely has the coolest fantasy name ever since Aragorn, son of Arathorn), to the young Northern king in waiting Robb Stark, and of course the noble Eddard Stark himself, who epitomes duty and honour to his very bones. Heck, even the women are bad-ass...from young Arya Stark, who likes killing fat boys with her Needle...to Bad Mama Catelyn Tully, wife to Eddard, mother to the Stark children, and one not to mess with. And surely the dwarf Tyrion Lannister (brought delightful to life by Peter Dinklage, playing the role with a glint in his eye, and a perpetual smirk on his face) will go down as one of the most memorable characters ever created.

What makes it great? Well, take the intricate, layered storytelling style of The Wire, mix it with the intrigue and violence of The Sopranos, and add a dash of The Lord of the Rings style breadth and scope of its created world and history...and there you have...the perfect series.

Right now, it's my favourite thing ever. Can't wait for next spring for Season 2. Bring on the Battle of Blackwater!

Ok, a shout out has to go out to the series Breaking Bad. I've only just discovered it, and finished the first three seasons over one feverish weekend. Great stuff. Not quite reaching the heights of The Wire, but close enough. Speaking of The Wire...hmmm, if only they'd find a way to have Omar Little on Game of Thrones...that'd be the bomb yo...that little prick Joffrey needs to get got...

It's not a business

Football is a global sport adored by all around the world. Globalisation helped its expansion and reach. It's true what they say, there are more United fans outside Manchester but it doesn't and shouldn't count as any less.

As the fanbase grows and percolates the globe, it became noticeable that football champions has been restricted a cartel few. It's inevitable the more trophies you win, the more resources you have and the better the talent you attract. This does not discount the quality of champions as in this modern world where all footballers are looking after number 1, to win in this team sport requires more than money but also luck and individual playing for the shirt rather than ego.

This act of attrition did not occur overnight but those winning clubs during the early 90s horizon has gone to the bigger and better things, example in case United and Ajax the opposite. Underdog winners are lesser since the dawn of globalisation, the only recent win is Birmingham over Arsenal (where Birmingham was subsequently relegated & its chairman charged with money laundering). The dominant leagues in Europe hasn't seen a healthy level of competition with predictable champions at the start of every season.

There are multiple clubs whom spent their way to relevance, some successfully and some straight to relegation. In cases of bottomless pockets, there were championships to be won. Any pro comes with a con, as with the current example of Greece, terrible things happen when you spend without remit and find yourself leveraged to the tilt.

The alternative is less myopic, sensible, sustainable view for a club like Arsenal, a different modus operandi. This experiment started in 2005 since the last trophy and the emergence of Cesc has been fruitless, winless, pushing the label from champions to feeders.

In the past few years, those who left Arsenal were those decided by Monsier Wenger, eg. Ade, Flamini, Hleb and see where they are now. No big mistakes so far. This summer pending departures, quoted from reliable sources (ie. The Sun and Mirror) that Cesc and Samir are leaving, the arrival of just Gervinho and potentially Samba (Blackburn), Cahill (Bolton) begs the question of intent and impetus of the club.

It's been run like a business, but football is not a business is it?

230. Striking Distance

Chelsea are within striking distance with Man U. The path to glory is fraught with peril...but that path lie in their hands. Win all remaining, and they will be champions, FACT...only goal difference or the event that Man U drop more points after their Old Trafford duel will change that fact...

If Chelsea go and win it, then it would be one of the greatest comebacks...EVER. This beats last season's Double any day. Especially in light of what would've been a hopeless season. That shows to prove that you always should keep hope, especially hope in light of hopelessness. There's always a chance.

Osama can be gotten at after 10 years and countless cold trails...democratic revolutions can sweep the Middle East after decades of tyrannical regime rule...Even Liverpool can come back from 3 nil down against Milan.

Chelsea can do it, if they remain steadfast and not be distracted by talk. The time for talk is over. If ever there was a time for action, then it is now. Here and now.

C'mon you Blues!!!

229. Winter is Coming

You betcha. Tonight.

Game of Thrones Exclusive Preview

Midwest

The first quarter of the year almost over, this means most will be running just to stay still, grafting in the twilight zone between after lunch to dinner, your cubic desk, chasing deadlines and fast food.

It doesn't always have to be. In an alternate world, there are wide open spaces where multitasking is unnecessary. Time was to able to tick slower than your rebooting laptop. For a change you look forward to the day, enjoying the day.

228. True Grit

"You must pay for everything in this world, one way and another. There is nothing free except the grace of God,"

- Mattie Ross, taken from the film True Grit (the superior 2010 Coen version)

There isn't. There are no free lunches. Everything comes with a price. Like our determined protagonist finds out by the film's end. And though she refers to Rooster as the one with "true grit", the viewer is left with no reservation of whom the film's title refers to.

It takes a special breed of people. To go beyond the call of duty, and to do what's right. With no regard for life and limb, only holding unto truth and a steadfast belief in something more than themselves.

We're seeing it day and night throughout the Middle East and Northern Africa. People rising against the might of their oppressors. As history is apt to show, the will of the people shall not be swayed by the corrupt few.

In Japan, a group of dedicated workers at the Fukushima plant are perhaps serving answering the call of duty one last time. They put themselves in harm's way with no regard for their health. Some surely will perish. Some sooner, some later. All are at risk to cancer. All are aware of the danger, yet they still forge ahead.

That is true grit. If only we could more often measure ourselves against this kind of strength, rather than the strength that power and money brings.

227. Mew Mew

So Arsene continues to hear the screaming of the lambs in the cold of night. Mew mew, they cry out, the hapless screams fill his ears and haunts his dreams.

6 years...6 long years...it's humanly impossible to go without for so long...especially for a Top 4 club with lofty aspirations...he wanted to do it his way...so he said...the pure way...yet when it came to it...his team were made to look like Leyton Orient...

Nay! 'Tis not fair! This is not how things should've played out in the grand scheme of things! It has to go my way! Mine! Mine! Mineeeeeee!!!!

Thus he rages...he rages against everything and everyone...he blames dodgy referees...even though his team had only 30% possession and had a single shot at goal before the sending off...he says he felt his team were superior...if only...if only there was no sending off...

Considering that they could've been a man down themselves and would've conceded a penalty at that point is irrelevant...nor is the fact that the score should've been 15 nil...but who cares? If things don't go down the way that Arsene sees fit, then things don't go down at all.

Manure...finish these poor sods off...kill these whiny bastards for good and for the love of the game (but only in the FA Cup, mind...Chelsea just might sneak something!).

226. Six Years

Since Arse last won a trophy. Not even the Mickey Mouse. Not even that.

The Blues face off against Man United this morning in what should've been a key match but instead is relegated into a grudge match of un-epic proportions.

If only good ol Ray was around. He would've realised that the Blues are badly in need of some magic in midfield. Function is so early 2000's. Barca shows us the way.

225. The Year of the Rabbit...

Apparently it brings with it Fernando Torres and David Luiz wrapped in a nice 70 million pound bundle :)

224. Back

2 wins on a trot ain't half bad, considering the Blues' recent form. Let's hope they build on it.

And the fatter one of the pair that is Messrs Gray and Keys has been sacked. Karma baby. Next up is to get rid of that pesky beady eyed fella. Smug lil twat that one.

Celebrity presenters born of a celebrity culture. I guess if people keep telling you how great your are (and I'm not talking about people that matter here...only brown-nosers and arse-wipers), then you start believing your own hype.

Sure all football pundits are created equal...it's just that some pundits believed that they were more equal than others.

Lights out.

223. Happy?

This suddenly occurred to me...when was the last time that I felt truly happy? Not talking about Chelsea winning the double last season happy here, or that relief mixed with joy emotion that washes over you once you've finished something really difficult either.

I'm talking about that feeling you could only feel deep in your heart. When for a time, all is perfect. When everything fits as it should be. And there's nothing in weighing in the mind, encroaching like an unwanted guest. Real happiness here.

Strange, but I can't remember. Only I do. Probably years ago when I still knew what happiness meant.

Now it's just a mess. Life does that to you sometimes...it puts your judgement off. Drats, and it's a real bummer. I mean that.

I sometimes wonder about how things came to be like they are and how the choices we've made in life led us to the place we are now.

We can't all be who we set out to be in life. Every dreamer must awaken. And though time might pass you by sometimes, there are always other things out there.

But who knows eh? Never too late to start dreaming again.

222. R. Baggio Can't Save You Lot

Stranger things have happened.

Perhaps Chelsea can pull it off. With ideally the enigmatic David Luiz shoring up the defence. And a Kun Aguero leading the attack.

One can only dream.

Bobby Baggio, where art thou in a time when miracles are needed? There hasn't been one in a decade. Truly.

Trust

and world peace.

221. Twenty Eleven

What does it hold? Only what you make of it.

Lessons should be learnt (hopefully) and mistakes not repeated. But history always has a bad habit of repeating itself...over and over. Sometimes it takes a good beating over the head to really drum it in.

Anyway, that aside, this year, as all the ones before it, and all the ones yet to come, looks rather promising. Let's get it started already.