HiddenEntries (A Wholly Owned Cynthia Publishing Company Subsidiary Blog)

Yes, yes, yes, we are lousy for sports over here, especially the sports that have some element of randomness and crazy bounces and a bit of unpredictability attached. Hoopball & ’murrikan gridiron throwball are not those sports, given that the ball is directly handled by the, well, hands. On the other hoof, give us some athletic competition in which the moving object is directed by a proxy — chief among them, for us, are the hockey stick & the tennis racquet — and we get more excited. Fútbol, obviously, is supremely qualifying in this regard: LOOK, MA! NO HANDS!

Anytime your song mashes-up jangle-pop & Pachelbel’s Canon in D, well, hey…

Five-nil to The Arsenal over hapless visitors Chelski!

A chag pesacha sameacha to all our Hebrew brothers & sisters on the cusp of this first night of Passover. Why the music? The answer is on the jump page now. Go!

Sunday!

The Gaffer assessing the Gunners’ 2-nil win away at Wolves from earlier today.

Haircut day!

Thursday!

For your No. London Arse this evening, it’s fair to recall that famous New Order lyric about ‘our valued destiny comes to nothing’. Every season, it seems, there’s that one week, that crucial seven-day span, in which the entirety of the Gunners’ campaign goes pear-shaped, and everything good & brilliant & inspiring that the club had produced up to that week just goes ta-ta. Friends of fútbol, that week has now completed its demoralizing destruction, with the Arse now out of the Champions League, and now having to rely on help to get back on terms in the Premiership.

How can you not like this? We don’t even stan the Nueva Jork Janquis — unless, of course, they are defeating the Hotlanta Bravo. However, this kind of sendoff on a win is something that should be immortalized in baseball-broadcast history. Best wishes, John Sterling!