The perfect lunch
Posted: January 5, 2012 Filed under: Food and drink, football | Tags: food, football, Hanoi, newcastle united, the cart Leave a comment »
Football from here.
Food (mulligatawny soup and meat and potato pie) from The Cart (obviously).
Between grief and nothing I’d choose football
Posted: March 22, 2010 Filed under: football, Hanoi, Pics | Tags: football, hoa phat hanoi, vleague Leave a comment »
I’ve been enjoying the live match experience again with my second footballing love Hoa Phat Ha Noi.
Or at least – most of the time. Yesterday saw them beaten 2-0 by Ninh Binh – under the watchful gaze of Uncle Ho on a horrible, grey, drizzly afternoon.
To make matters worse, the pic above of their fans pre-match, shows them in the area usually reserved for Hoa Phat fans. I sought out another section, only to be charged for the privilege (it’s normally free) and then find it was still mostly full of NB fans.
As the goals started to go in the home net that became increasingly less fun.
More irritating than the celebrations of their fans was the pudgy old pro pictured right. After sweating profusely and hardly being able to break into a trot for Ninh Binh, he (Gustavo – I checked) put away a penalty and celebrated as if he’d just won the world cup single handedly.
Imagine how happy he’d be if he could only find a shirt that fits.
Yes, I am still sulking. But if it’s not hurting then it’s really not working.
I’d missed the pain.
* Because I really can’t help myself – you can find the Hoa Phat Hanoi automated Twitter feed here - and Phat Tays, the Hoa Phat Hanoi expat supporters’ Facebook fan page here. I’m almost embarrassed to say I set up both of these.
You don’t get to choose your football team.
Posted: January 31, 2010 Filed under: football, Hanoi | Tags: bong da, football, Hanoi, hanoi hoa phat, v league, vietnam 1 Comment »It’s the start of the V-League football season today.
I started watching Hanoi Hoa Phat FC because their stadium was near the KOTO restaurant where I worked.
The stadium is open and yellow and you sit on a concrete terrace. It’s nice. It’s how a football ground in a hot country should be.
The crowd numbers only a couple of hundred and, when I last went, the classic formation was a big goalkeeper (African or South American) and a big centre forward (again African or South American). In between those two were nine much smaller Vietnamese.
It dawned on us fairly early on that we had picked a dud team. Later, when they got relegated, our suspicions were confirmed.
But that’s the trouble with football. Unless you’re a Johnny-come-lately-satellite-TV-viewing-glory-hunting-Man U-fan-in-Brighton you didn’t choose your team. It chose you.
It has been suggested that perhaps we switch and support another side.
No, my mate said, we can go and watch another team, but we can never support them.
Wise words.
Phat and proud.
