Guilford Bell Curve

Gasp! Gasp! What a shock! This is so unexpected. May I please make some prepared remarks? [Wrestles microphone away from Mark and Dave; unfurls 40 pages of computer paper in 8 point font; it’s gonna be a long speech, so these are the died remarks.] Thank you very much for this richly deserved award; I use “richly deserved” in the statistical sense because of the three rookies on Arsenal Masters, I am the only one who showed up to play. So I would like to thank Bob and Nigel for making this possible. My two teammates, combined, played for about three halves – and scored as many goals as I did. This, then, is an award by default rather than merit. This is my first year in the Arsenal family, and like all families – I’ve discovered -- its has been blessed with its share of dysfunction and elderly crazy uncles, who I am proud to call my teammates. Among the oddities I have encountered, the high and low of English culture, embodied in the contrast between our captain, Richard, and manager, Ian. Richard’s pre-match and half-time talks are given in the same earnestness as World War II movie pep talks to paratroopers. “Chaps, if we can take the bridge at Arnheim, and score three against Danbury, we’ll be home by December.” We have taken to humming “God Save Our Gracious Queen” as theme music. Richard – truly moving. Massive setbacks – such as missing a sitter,–English for “open goal”-- provoke the most Anglo-Saxon of curses: “Dash, dash, dash.” Richard, we suspect, goes home to sip G&Ts aboard his boat, christened “Rule Britania,” where he recites Rudyard Kipling from that favorite English vantage point – the poop deck. In contrast, our goal keeper carries the DNA of footballing hooliganism, which we observe when he discusses strategy with the Dutch Master during the game. Our keeper hails from the wind-swept tundra known as North East England, where the men are men and the sheep no longer bother to run away. He hails from the Toon, home of the calorific pasties, a wonderful French pastry filled -- not with, say, almond paste -- but the bloody [literally] entrails of a recently butchered animal; he drinks Nukey Brown, which we can confirm causes dementia, and speaks in a broad Northern accent, most pronounced when he urges teammates not to speak to the referee, as in “Shut the f*** up, and stop screamin’ at the referee.” Yes, wives and girlfriends, we are a strange but economical therapy group – our “dashes,” our “effens,” whether in English or American accents, combine with strange mutterings in Albanian, and the unending stream of Dutch “Hott ver dammen’s,” which, I believe, is Dutch for “ I am very sorry I didn’t make the defensive recovery run – next time I will try much harder.” But we try to get that anger out, so we can come home more loving husbands, at least emotionally so. Catch you at the far post.

Michael Winnall Award - Richard Saunders Over 30's MVP - Matt Ellis Over 30's Goalscorer - Sebastian Lazar Over 30's Rookie - George Olaru Over 30's Einstein - Kurt Putnam Over 40's MVP - Marc Sieler Over 40's Goalscorer - John Thorsen Over 40's Rookie - Paul Korngiebel Over 40's Einstein - Milenko Bilaver Gunners MVP - Jim Brooks Gunners Goalscorer - Stephen Cahill Gunners Rookie - Fergal O'Donnell Gunners Einstein - Rolf Klaeboe

Gasp! Gasp! What a shock! This is so unexpected. May I please make some prepared remarks? [Wrestles microphone away from Mark and Dave; unfurls 40 pages of computer paper in 8 point font; it’s gonna be a long speech, so these are the died remarks.] Thank you very much for this richly deserved award; I use “richly deserved” in the statistical sense because of the three rookies on Arsenal Masters, I am the only one who showed up to play. So I would like to thank Bob and Nigel for making this possible. My two teammates, combined, played for about three halves – and scored as many goals as I did. This, then, is an award by default rather than merit. This is my first year in the Arsenal family, and like all families – I’ve discovered -- its has been blessed with its share of dysfunction and elderly crazy uncles, who I am proud to call my teammates. Among the oddities I have encountered, the high and low of English culture, embodied in the contrast between our captain, Richard, and manager, Ian. Richard’s pre-match and half-time talks are given in the same earnestness as World War II movie pep talks to paratroopers. “Chaps, if we can take the bridge at Arnheim, and score three against Danbury, we’ll be home by December.” We have taken to humming “God Save Our Gracious Queen” as theme music. Richard – truly moving. Massive setbacks – such as missing a sitter,–English for “open goal”-- provoke the most Anglo-Saxon of curses: “Dash, dash, dash.” Richard, we suspect, goes home to sip G&Ts aboard his boat, christened “Rule Britania,” where he recites Rudyard Kipling from that favorite English vantage point – the poop deck. In contrast, our goal keeper carries the DNA of footballing hooliganism, which we observe when he discusses strategy with the Dutch Master during the game. Our keeper hails from the wind-swept tundra known as North East England, where the men are men and the sheep no longer bother to run away. He hails from the Toon, home of the calorific pasties, a wonderful French pastry filled -- not with, say, almond paste -- but the bloody [literally] entrails of a recently butchered animal; he drinks Nukey Brown, which we can confirm causes dementia, and speaks in a broad Northern accent, most pronounced when he urges teammates not to speak to the referee, as in “Shut the f*** up, and stop screamin’ at the referee.” Yes, wives and girlfriends, we are a strange but economical therapy group – our “dashes,” our “effens,” whether in English or American accents, combine with strange mutterings in Albanian, and the unending stream of Dutch “Hott ver dammen’s,” which, I believe, is Dutch for “ I am very sorry I didn’t make the defensive recovery run – next time I will try much harder.” But we try to get that anger out, so we can come home more loving husbands, at least emotionally so. Catch you at the far post.

Michael Winnall Award - Richard Saunders Over 30's MVP - Matt Ellis Over 30's Goalscorer - Sebastian Lazar Over 30's Rookie - George Olaru Over 30's Einstein - Kurt Putnam Over 40's MVP - Marc Sieler Over 40's Goalscorer - John Thorsen Over 40's Rookie - Paul Korngiebel Over 40's Einstein - Milenko Bilaver Gunners MVP - Jim Brooks Gunners Goalscorer - Stephen Cahill Gunners Rookie - Fergal O'Donnell Gunners Einstein - Rolf Klaeboe

Great Victory, Arsenal! We expected a tough match and we got it, thanks to ourselves. We started out in our fashion, "Let's go kill them!" but after a few early misses the game settled into a groove. They were shipping balls upfront to a mysterious attacker while we kept dominating, but the services to our forwards were delivered more airmail than ground. Needless, to say, the ref was compensating for their lack of everything, so corners and free-kicks were patented by Hamden Playwright. That's how they scored their first goal. We set up the Great Wall of Greenwich but the invading kick by their 'Mongolian' hordes which was one guy, bent around into Roger's loving arms, or so it seemed. Roger got mushy and decided to make it a game for everybody, fans included, Hamden 1-0. Luckily, their big Irish Horn blew and woke us up, Jason more than anyone, scoring two goals one after another, fairly quickly after theirs. Great pressure from everybody, speared by Sebastian run right at the goalie forcing him to return Roger's favor, which Jason beautifully chipped over and then a great run by Scottie on the right assisting Jason for a left footer which he measured as precisely as laser eye correction operations, Arsenal 2-1. It was more like it and we all knew it. George added in a third following some peace talks and conference calls with the center ref and the ARSE (assistant refereeing surplus entity)on the sideline. It wasn't 100% handball, it did hit the guy's elbow, but until the rules say: "Free kick outside the box for an elbow," we'll keep taking penalties. Lee totally ignored the airport flagging motions of Sebastian "It's a penalty. Let me in!" humorously smiling back: "NO!" Arsenal 3-1. No matter. The game continued the second half with a twist early on. They scored from another free kick donation. The ball decided to take a few deflections, keep its Tasmanian spin, hit the post and go in, dumfounding everyone there. The big horn went off again, Arsenal 3-2. We did wake up again, but this time it took a bit longer. We started playing more on the ground due to which, more chances of taking their big and slow defenders on and consequently, more chances to score. After a breakaway by Sebastian was stopped by the ref for offside, our fans decided to help the cause and ask the AR what time it is confusing him to the point of letting Sebastian go the second time around. The latter took a great pass by Nicolae and after a race to their goal managed to score under their goalie right before being molested (shirt torn, kicked in the leg being dragged down, no kisses though) by their big center half - 4-2 Arsenal. Thanks fans! Another 'dinner invitation' by the same center half followed very soon after that when Sebastian had a one-on-one with him, passing by him and rocketing a shot at the goalie who decided to tip it over the bar into a corner. So rude! Anyway, he wasn't so rude to Tello who finished Hamden off with a mirror shot under the goalie after a little soccer slalom through their ranks, Arsenal 5-2. No celestial celebrations, but fireworks did spark out of everyone's eyes for we knew we were finally promoted, rewarding our superb season. Great work Arsenal! S. Pompov (Sebastian Printing-One-Man's-Point-Of-View)