The Austin Eagles are back...and slaying giants

There is a common taunt among soccer fans from opposing clubs "you only sing when you're winning".It's meant to criticize their commitment to their team. Up until about four months ago I could honestly say this did not apply to me. Even during the darkest moments of Eagle love I stood firm and cheered my team. That was until the thoroughly depressing descent we experienced during the last months of our ex boss Alan Pardew. During one particularly difficult loss to Liverpool I found myself extremely angry and mad at everything for the entire weekend. I took it out on my wife and kids. Then I realized that maybe this soccer supporting isn't all it's cracked up to be. I told myself I would scale down my support and be nicer to my family. I probably saw three games in about two months.

Was it over for the Austin Eagles? I thought so. But guess what? We only went and started winning again. Now I realized that when we win I am even nicer than normal to my family so supporting Palace is all it's cracked up to be. It's brilliant. All Palace have to do is win four games in a row including last Saturday when we beat this season's nigh-certain premier league winners Chelsea away. It was beautiful. As long as we don't lose again then no problem, right? Maybe the other way is if I sing when we are winning and then put my fingers in my ears, shut my eyes and shout "la la la la la la la" when we lose. Either sounds better than giving up on my Austin Eagles.

I am attaching a couple of delightful news items after the Chelsea win. The first is from a Palace fan who filmed the crowd going nuts to the first goal and then catching the second goal a minute later. And yes, that is a flare. The second is an image of this week's combined premier league team of the week. You almost never see four players from the same team in it. Lovely jubbly.

https://mobile.twitter.com/Amanda_Hollidge/status/848207764979671040/video/1

Austin Eagles not done yet

We won a game. My husband scored. He can jump high and score goals as you can see. That's all I have say about that.

Forget the Austin Eagles

It is far too depressing to discuss anything even vaguely related to Crystal Palace right now due to their continuous downward decline. Therefore this week's posting will have absolutely nothing in common with anything in red and blue stripes. I will regale you with a tale from one of my many odd experiences as an English plumber getting down and dirty in Austin, Texas.

"I rang the doorbell. It rang back echoing the tune of 'Stars of Texas' around the small, 1950s East Austin home. Helen answered the door in her PJs, bleary-eyed, squinting so intensely she seemed still asleep. "Hi, I'm Woody with Radiant Plumbing. I'm here to help," - my standard greeting. I followed her, stepping gingerly around the comatose figure snoring loudly on the sofa. We crossed the kitchen and left through the back door.

"Here it is," she croaked hoarsely. It must have been a fun night, I thought. I followed her pointed finger to see what appeared to be a horse chewing on a plastic water pipe protruding from the home. It didn't seem to bother the creature that water was hammering down it's throat from the mauled broken pipe. "Clover," she hollered, "stop that now". The five foot tall Great Dane plodded toward us, soaked through with tongue lolling from side to side outside its gargantuan jaws. The pipe stood no chance. As we stood staring at the dopey dog ambling over to us, I started discussing how to fix the problem. I didn't get far. I became speechless at what I was seeing. Out the corner of my eye I spied a tiny baby bird hurtling toward us from the branch of a nearby tree. It careened out of control straight at us. I ducked but Helen stood perfectly still. I assumed she hadn't seen it through the minuscule slits in her eyes. Just two feet from her head, the minute bird pulled up, hovered for a second and then landed clumsily on Helen's right shoulder.

"This is the third time she has done this," Helen stated proudly, twisting her head slowly to the side to watch her adopted avian offspring. "I call her Buttercup," she said. I was starting to see the floral naming convention in her burgeoning animal farm. Helen began telling me her theory that Buttercup had lost her mother and had decided on a human replacement. As she spoke, Helen became transformed. All vestiges of hangover ebbed rapidly away. Her eyes grew wide. Her voice cleared. She even stood taller, delighting in her newfound friend. She seemed like a new mother. And in return, Buttercup also appeared completely at ease. It stood wobbling slightly on its five feet high perch. Ruffling its feathers, it let out a tiny but heartfelt chirp, not a hint of concern on its feathered face. It was inspiring to watch the obvious love between the two.

I had completely forgotten about the water gushing from the pipe and the mammoth canine Clover now standing by our sides. I was lost in thought, delighting in the touching scene before me. We stood in silence watching each and every movement from our new winged pal. After a full five minutes, Buttercup began raising its wings. She gave a few tiny flaps getting ready for the brave and apparently difficult take off. Holding our breaths, we watched Buttercup take flight. For the first second it seemed as if it would not make it, plummeting toward the ground. But just in the nick of time, Buttercup recovered and began climbing back up. Gaining altitude, it now hovered at our eye level, looking at both of us in a gesture of farewell for now. And in that second, I felt at ease with the world believing that man and beast were one.

Buttercup took one last look at us, turned, flapped it wings then flew straight into the huge gaping mouth of Clover. In one deadly move, the Great Dane had leaped from the ground timing it perfectly to meet the bird mid flight. Our blissful silence ended with a snap of jaws and gentle crunch of baby bones. Neck broken in two, Buttercup fell lifeless to the floor with her murderer slobbering happily above. I looked at Helen. All color had drained from her. She was unable to speak. I mumbled something about fixing a pipe. I don't think she cared. And to be honest, nor did I.

Austin Eagles see coach fired

I thought Christmas had come early my Eagles. Crystal Palace manager Alan Pardew was sacked just before gift-giving day due to the team's unbelievably pathetic performance in 2016. Out of the entire 92 teams in the football league, Palace are dead last in points won per game. Even with Pardew's charisma and confidence, the management simply couldn't allow it to continue. It seemed inevitable that he would go. I actually witnessed his apparent demise during my short visit to training last week. On completion of a practice game, the players huddled around their manager hoping to hear some brilliant new tip or morale boosting monologue. Sadly all Pardew said was "You missed a few goals there guys. You will need to score more than that against Chelsea tomorrow." Very cerebral Alan!

Our new boss: the controversial ex-England manager Sam Allardyce who stood down with only 67 days in the role after he offered advice on how to "get around rules" for player transfers. We have played two games since he started and have won one and drawn one. However, the loss today was against Arsenal who no one expected us to beat. It is the next five or six games that are crucial. We play teams near the bottom of the league and it is now that we will discover if we have what it takes to stay in the Premier League. We play Swansea this Tuesday at 2pm.

The Austin Eagles need your support now more than ever. It is time to come good on that New Years resolution I know you must have made to spend less time with your family and dedicate every spare minute of 2017 to our little club.

Come on you Palace.

Austin Eagles meet the real Eagles

I have often heard the phrase "I would die a happy man if..." but never actually believed I would utter such words. I mean, come on. Is there really one miraculous moment that could cause me to happily say goodbye to all I hold dear in this world? I was certain not. That was until last Friday at 10am when I shook hands and chatted with players from our beloved Crystal Palace FC. 

I was on my way back to the U.K. for my mum's birthday last week when a thought popped into my head. Maybe, due to the exponential growth of the Austin Eagles coupled with our loyal support for all things red and blue, I might have some sway with the club. Palace bigwigs are very keen to expand their support in the U.S. and I thought the timing would be perfect. I shot a message to a bunch of vaguely official looking email addresses found on their website stating my credentials and what I hoped to accomplish. I then promptly forgot all about it. Then, a few days later they actually wrote me back. As founder members of the Austin Eagles, my brother Phil and I were invited as special guests to the team's training ground to watch the lads prepare for the following day's London derby with Chelsea. Bloody Hell!

When the day actually came, not only did we watch training but we ended up sitting in on the press conference, taking a guided tour of the facilities trailed closely by the club photographer and videographer and (my pee pee tingles just to write this) chatting with players. As we toured the buildings, I had to clench my butt cheeks as I caught glimpses of each and every one of my heroes as they went on with their daily duties. There they were. Damian Delaney eating a bacon sandwich. Jason Puncheon coming out of the bathroom. Scott Dann tying his laces. Wilfred Zaha running down the stairs. I felt like a devout Christian watching Jesus trim his nails. It was all very surreal. I tried many times to say something to the players but nothing came out. They were probably wondering who the mildly retarded looking guy was who kept staring at them with his mouth open but I didn't care. I was like a pig in shit. And not just regular old piggy shit. I was rolling gleefully around in gold plated, 10 carat unicorn shit patted smooth by the wings of angels. As you can tell, I was pretty happy.

Each new building had a different delight in store. In the gym we eagerly read through the player's weights and athletics all-time leaderboard mounted in pride of place for all to try to beat. This was fascinating. As I read each stat I tried to imagine who I thought was top dog before looking at the answer. I had so much fun doing this that I will test you my Austin Eagles. Which Palace player do you think can deadlift the most? Who can jump the highest? Who is faster, Zaha or Bolasie? Keep reading for the answers.

Next was the physiotherapy room where players recuperated from any injuries they may have incurred. A room more widely used than the gym this season, I heard our tour guide Chris mumble sadly under his breath. One particularly hi-tech looking machine drew my attention. I was told that it was a state of the art treadmill where players were actually elevated off the surface using wind currents for less friction on their joints as they run. This description was then corrected by the physio who had just entered the room to "nah, you just put on those funny trousers over there and connect them to the elastic which holds you up." Keeping it real Palace.

We were then led into the kit room where we got to stroke and sniff our favorite player's shirts. Happily leafing through each jersey while reading the name on the back I came to a slightly unfamiliar white one. Horrified I read the name Pogba printed in big black letters and realized I was holding a bloody Manchester United shirt. I threw it on the ground as if my hands were permanently burnt. Then I looked around to see if anyone was watching, stuffed it into my bag and then excused myself to the nearest bathroom grumbling about how the coffee was going right through me.

Next came the day's most magical moment. We were led out to the training pitches and were told the players would be out soon. I took in a sharp breath as Yohan Cabaye ran out the door and right past me followed by the thundering boots of his teammates. I wasn't sure where to look. I was like a fat boy locked in a candy shop. The last to come out was new star striker and club record transfer Christian Benteke. To my amazement he stopped and looked me straight in the eye. The photographer next to me took the opportunity to get some club shots before I grabbed my Austin Eagles flag and fell upon him begging for a snap. Like the media savvy sportsman he is, he flashed his huge smile and fell in place between my brother and I. He then ran off and promptly slammed his foot into the nearest ball curling it into the roof of the net. I had man love.

I didn't think it could get any better than that until I glanced left and saw our commander in chief Mr Alan Pardew striding towards me. I was told he was coming to talk to us. I puffed out my chest, put my shoulders back and cleared my throat desperately hoping I wouldn't screw this up. I tried to act cool and answer his questions with eloquence and charm. However, all I actually succeeded in doing was laugh way too loud and drool a bit. He then obliged me and Phil in posing for the obligatory flag photo. As he stood sandwiched between us for the picture he looked left to me and right to Phil before saying "you're tall brothers aren't ya". Witty retorts including "you need two new center backs?" and "you seemed bigger on tv" were on the tip of my tongue. Unfortunately, only more loud and uncomfortable laughing came out along with the spittle. As he ran off he asked whether we were going to be at the game tomorrow. I replied with the rather bizarre comment "on me head, Alan". He didn't look back again. What a day.

Thankfully, even though the experience did leave me a little breathless, I decided that Friday was not the day to call it a day on my life. It was just a really good day. The following day, however, was not a day to remember as we got beaten by Chelsea 1-0. Maybe the players should have worn those funny physio trousers a little less.

Thanks to Matt, Chris and Harriet who organized this fantastic experience and who I hope will continue to show our little fan club the dedication that we show them. And thanks to all involved for getting the Austin Eagles featured in a full page of the Chelsea match day program along with excerpts on the CPFC website and email to all fans.

Oh and in case you were wondering, Julian Speroni is champ in deadlift at 175lbs, Bakari Sako can jump highest at 62.7cm and as for who the fastest is between Zaha and Bolasie? Well, they are exactly the same at 10 m/s. I like that.

Woody and Phil with Alan Pardew

Full page of Austin Eagles match day program

Woody, Phil and big Al

Boys in training training

Woody and Phil at the training ground.

Austin Eagles featured in the weekly official Palace email newsletter

Austin Eagles featured in matchday program.

Stunning news my feathered friends. The Austin Eagles are about to become famous. Our little fan club is going to be featured over a glossy double page pullout in an upcoming Crystal Palace matchday program. Thousands of people who buy this at games will be reading about us and our dedication to the cause of Crystal Palace FC in these here United States. I have already sent many images including all of us at Fados to marketing folks at the club and I am currently working on a few stories about the Austin Eagles, who we are and how we came to be which will be printed alongside the pictures.

I shall of course send each and every one of you a copy of this once it is published. If you have been a loyal eagle you may just see yourself featured.

This is a very proud moment for me and I want to thank each and every one of you for your loyal support over the years.

And to round off this glorious posting, we actually won a bloody game last week. 3-0 against Southampton. Our first win in eight games. Our manager likes to go on runs of wins and losses so if you haven't been for the last few games then now is the time to get back in the swing of things. You will see us win some games.

The Austin Eagles ambassadors

The joint nations of the Austin Eagles are drifting apart. The iron-clad bond between the American eagles and British bulldogs entailing a majority of the AE fan club is crumbling. The anti-American sentiment felt around the world during the Bush era is back. I have attached below a letter written to the Queen of England by resident British funny man John Cleese as evidence. To the Englishman among you, don't give up on us, we aren't all suckers. And to those sensible Americans among you, there's never been a more important time to become an ambassador for your country. Don't just sit back and take it. Do like this Eagle does. Be "seriously dangerous". Come and support Palace as your first step to linking wings once more.

"To the citizens of the United States of America, in light of your failure to elect a competent President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective today. 

Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II resumes monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths and other territories. Except Utah, which she does not fancy. 

Your new prime minister (The Right Honourable Theresa May, MP for the 97.8% of you who have, until now, been unaware there's a world outside your borders) will appoint a minister for America. Congress and the Senate are disbanded. A questionnaire circulated next year will determine whether any of you noticed. 

To aid your transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect: 

1. Look up "revocation" in the Oxford English Dictionary. Check "aluminium" in the pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how wrongly you pronounce it. The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'favour' and 'neighbour'. Likewise you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters. Generally, you should raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. Look up "vocabulary." Using the same twenty seven words interspersed with filler noises such as "like" and "you know" is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication. Look up "interspersed." There will be no more 'bleeps' in the Jerry Springer show. If you're not old enough to cope with bad language then you should not have chat shows. 

2. There is no such thing as "US English." We'll let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take account of the reinstated letter 'u'. 

3. You should learn to distinguish English and Australian accents. It really isn't that hard. English accents are not limited to cockney, upper-class twit or Mancunian (Daphne in Frasier). Scottish dramas such as 'Taggart' will no longer be broadcast with subtitles.You must learn that there is no such place as Devonshire in England. The name of the county is "Devon." If you persist in calling it Devonshire, all American States will become "shires" e.g. Texasshire Floridashire, Louisianashire. 

4. You should relearn your original national anthem, "God Save The Queen", but only after fully carrying out task 1. 

5. You should stop playing American "football." There's only one kind of football. What you call American "football" is not a very good game. The 2.1% of you aware there is a world outside your borders may have noticed no one else plays "American" football. You should instead play proper football. Initially, it would be best if you played with the girls. Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which is similar to American "football", but does not involve stopping for a rest every two seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like nancies) You should stop playing baseball. It's not reasonable to host event called the 'World Series' for a game which is not played outside of America. Instead of baseball, you will be allowed to play a girls' game called "rounders," which is baseball without fancy team stripe, oversized gloves, collector cards or hotdogs. 

6. You will no longer be allowed to own or carry guns, or anything more dangerous in public than a vegetable peeler. Because you are not sensible enough to handle potentially dangerous items, you need a permit to carry a vegetable peeler. 

7. July 4th is no longer a public holiday. November 2nd will be a new national holiday. It will be called "Indecisive Day." 

8. All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap and it is for your own good. When we show you German cars, you will understand what we mean. All road intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left. At the same time, you will go metric without the benefit of conversion tables. Roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour. 

9. Learn to make real chips. Those things you call French fries are not real chips. Fries aren't French, they're Belgian though 97.8% of you (including the guy who discovered fries while in Europe) are not aware of a country called Belgium. Potato chips are properly called "crisps." Real chips are thick cut and fried in animal fat. The traditional accompaniment to chips is beer which should be served warm and flat. 

10. The cold tasteless stuff you call beer is actually lager. Only proper British Bitter will be referred to as "beer." Substances once known as "American Beer" will henceforth be referred to as "Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine," except for the product of the American Budweiser company which will be called "Weak Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine." This will allow true Budweiser (as manufactured for the last 1000 years in Pilsen, Czech Republic) to be sold without risk of confusion. 

11. The UK will harmonise petrol prices (or "Gasoline," as you will be permitted to keep calling it) for those of the former USA, adopting UK petrol prices (roughly $6/US gallon, get used to it). 

12. Learn to resolve personal issues without guns, lawyers or therapists. That you need many lawyers and therapists shows you're not adult enough to be independent. If you're not adult enough to sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist, you're not grown up enough to handle a gun. 

13. Please tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us crazy. 

14. Tax collectors from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all revenues due (backdated to 1776). 

Thank you for your co-operation."

Austin Eagles go underground

Just six months ago the world was my oyster. I put my hand on my heart and pledged my allegiance to the Stars and Stripes becoming a bonafide A-merican citizen. Thankfully the US government do not require you to hand in your old passport so even though they don't recognize dual citizenship, effectively I got to keep both. With these two passports I had access to gems on both sides of the pond, including at that time Europe. When I applied for my new passport I even had the choice to change my name. I felt like James Bond. I could enter a country as one man and leave as another. I wondered what else was possible. My mind raced thinking of what would matter most. And of course, my thoughts settled on the Austin Eagles. I could be an ambassador linking my love of Palace with the good people of America. And then all hell broke loose. Fear mongering led both my countries to close their borders.

Brexit cut my worldly access by a third. Living and working in continental Europe would no longer be possible. It put a halt to my family's fantastical dream of one day moving to Spain and living high in the Sierra Nevada mountains maybe running a goat farm, drinking clear spring water straight from the ground. Then, of course, Trump happened. Who knows what he will bring. Maybe the Mexican wall won't be enough. What if he keeps going and builds a blockade around the US and bans anyone from entering at all? If his ludicrous plan for massive import tariffs is anything to go by then that may just happen.

No longer do I feel like a double agent. I have been stripped of my rocket firing Aston Martin and been forced to turn in my laser watch. I am a big fat 00zero. There is only one thing to do now. The Austin Eagles are going underground.

From now on we shall hide in the shadows of Fado's darkest corner plotting our revolution. We shall lurk in complete silence until the unlikely day that we win a game again. And once that day comes, when our numbers reach the dizzy heights of double figures, we shall spring from the beer stained depths and wreck havoc on the xenophobic powers that be. ARE YOU WITH ME? HURRAH.

ps I never liked oysters anyway.

Trumps dumps on the Austin Eagles

I have tried to write about the Austin Eagles this week but all I can think about is the USA Eagle and how royally screwed it is. How did a chump like Trump become president. I am truly shocked. Like many people here, I never saw it coming. I love Austin and her people but yesterday was unlike any other day I have experienced. They were no courteous hellos. No one held doors open. All the usual smiles had gone. Each and every gaze was directed at the floor. I like to look people in the eyes but yesterday I looked away as all I could think about was "was it you?". 25% of Austinites voted for Trump. That's not bad of course but that still means that one in four on the street voted his way. How could they do that? The man is an abysmal being. He has nothing going for him. I just don't get it.

Heather and I didn't discuss it the following morning before dropping the kids at school. We just couldn't bear it. I went to the gym. I talked on the phone. I went to work. Wherever I went I heard snippets of conversations about it. I wanted to join in and rant but couldn't bring myself to do it. I overheard a guy quietly utter to his friend "all I could say to my son was that I will go to work today and do my very best and you should try to do the same." One of the trainers at the gym whispered an apology to his portly client that he might be off his game today. There were no outrageous outbursts. We hadn't had the time to be furious. We were all just stunned.

Heather and Kim both cried multiple times yesterday. I frequently found myself checking the news and googling things like "what bad things can Trump do as president" in the hope that some other branch of government will be smarter than the general population and keep the chump in check.

I am unsure what to tell my kids. Heather and I have been very conscientious about allowing our kids to decide what they believe in. It is hard but we believe it's important. We don't push our religious beliefs on them even when they come home from school with questions. Should we not tell them that Trump is bad. He is bad. Of that I am certain. But should I want my children to grow up for the next four years, hopefully not eight, thinking their president is a bad man. What message is that giving them?

Everything is very confusing right now.

I was so certain that he (if God gets an up case H, can we design an even lower case h for Trump?) would lose that I was going to prepare an amusing soccer related image for the blog with photoshop before the election (see image below). Vinnie would be Hilary and Gazza Trump with the heading "just because I can". I am glad I didn't.

If anyone out there has any good ways of getting through this then let me know. Otherwise I shall continue looking at the floor, stumbling around for a while until, well, i don't know when. Maybe four years.

I considered writing an apology to any of my friends who may feel offended by this. I decided not to. I think you can see why.

Vote for the Austin Eagles

Unless you have been living in a ditch or maybe just more oblivious than Trump wearing a microphone, you will be aware of a certain election looming over our heads. It is a very worrying event in our lives. I for one am very worried. More worried than when the Spanish doctor shouted "quarantino" at me as I shat evermore green mush from my butt amid a hellish sickness in Granada. More worried than when I went pee this morning and pulled out little Woody only to find him turned completely upside down. More worried even than the prospect of Trump grabbing my crotch as commander in chief, just because he can. However, I am not worried about the election. Only a nation of lunatics would elect Trump, and after living here for ten years now I am sure the majority are sane.

No, my friends, what I am worried about is you, the Austin Eagles. You may have noticed my lack of Palace prose in the non existent blog updates. There are a few reasons for this but they don't get to the crux of the issue. Sure, I was a little sick. Yes, I was in San Francisco for three weeks and all I heard about was the Giants in the World Series. And of course I was hanging full time with the kids and realizing that kicking balls in goals isn't actually life or death (unless we are playing Brighton...or Charlton...or West Ham...or Millwall...). But the real reason for the writer's block is because I have not been surrounded by my faithful feathered friends in Austin, Texas. That is why I intend to add a new proposition to your imminent ballot. It will state that all voters of sound mind and body (anyone not voting for Trump basically) are duty bound to join me at Fados this Saturday at 10am for a crucial battle for our team against the Donald Trump of soccer, Burnley.

As you can see for this picture, I voted. Now you should too.

Are the Austin Eagles too big for their cowboy boots?

Many diehard Crystal Palace fans have been complaining of late. This is not unusual. It's not only because most of them are English who would win Olympic gold if they added "moaning" as a sport. It's also because we may be getting too big for our boots. We have always been this team of rough and ready underdogs. We exist only because we get down and dirty and pull out results when it's time to fight for survival. And guess what, most of us like it like that. Most of us don't want to be these money-hungry, commercialized corporations like Manchester United and Chelsea. We want to be gritty and proud of our roots. We want to battle against the odds.

So, to the dismay of many, our recent player acquisitions may have altered our status. During this summer's break we spent an astronomical 57 million pounds for just four guys. To put that into perspective, just five years ago we bought our most expensive player ever for 400,000 pounds. Shit's changed big time. Now fans are moaning, again, they are English. They believe we are now just another characterless big club. But do you know what I think? I think fuck that. I think we should just enjoy not being really shit. Why do we always have to be pissed off. It's party time people. Let's be happy. Last weekend we won our first game of the season and we are sitting comfortably mid table. Life is good. Let's go guns blazing baby. I am. Look here.

Austin Eagles to become Salt Lake Eagles

The time has come to move on. Austin has treated the eagles well. But sadly, as we progress, it can't give us what we need. It has nature, sunshine, good food and fun folk. But what it lacks is more important than any of those. I am shackled by the politics. I need to break free and fulfill a dream I have had for, well, it must be nigh on five whole desperate days now. I have a yearning deep down inside and I can't ignore it. I need to move our Austin Eagles to Salt Lake City. There, I will be free. Free to be the man I want to be. And that man is a man married to Scott Dann, the Crystal Palace captain and scorer of the last minute goal on Saturday which gave us our very first point in this rather sad season.

Of course, as you may be thinking, this is possible here in ole gay Austin. However, I still quite like Heather so polygamy is the answer. I have shown pictures of my man Scott to Heather and she approves. She has always said she would like someone in the relationship to score more often.

I shall of course be coming back to Austin for each and every game to meet my old franchise chums. Good luck.

Are you a bad Eagle?

Palace can't seem to win a league game. Let's talk about something else.

Here's a question.

You are running on the trail. You are just seconds from getting your best time ever. Your legs are like pistons pumping powerfully up and down. You feel like nothing can get in your way. You squint at something odd ahead. You realize it's a woman wobbling precariously close to a steep ledge. You know you should help but you won't beat your time. You feel like a dick as you run toward her.

At what point do you stop to help?

a) When you realize she's attractive?
b) When you notice she's powerless to stop her four feet tall Great Dane connected to a leash on her belt from pulling her over the ledge as it chases a squirrel?
c) When you see her smear her clothes with four ginormous turds she had just bent over to clean up?
d) When you see that her infant baby is just seconds from tumbling out of the carrier around her chest?
e) Never. Screw her. All I care about is my running?

I answered e) when that happened to me this morning. I am a dick.

Come and watch Palace lose again tomorrow and feel like I feel.

Hair today, gone tomorrow for the Austin Eagles

It has been an emotional week my feathered friends. Over the past four days our club has said goodbye to two pillars of Eagledom. Two players who epitomised the raw energy and fight that I see inside each and every one of you come Saturday. Two players who I have loved like brothers since the days when Palace were inches from annihilation. Two players who, without them, leave my football heart feeling cold and lonely inside. Two players who had such a fascination with hilarious head hair that, with their departure, Selhurst Park has been shaved bare. We must look to the future and cast aside fears that we might emulate poor Samson who withered away once his hair was all gone.

In a desperate attempt to expunge any future follicular folly from the team, I dedicate this post to my hairy heroes Mile Jedinak and Yannick Bolasie, in photo montage form. But of course no ridiculous Eagles hair homage would be complete without an image of one other player let go last month. The magical mullet comb over of Marouane Chamakh.

Goodbye my brave Eagles. We will never forget you.

Mile "Jedi" Jedinak 

Yannick "Yalla" Bolasie

Marouane "did someone shit on your head" Chamakh

The new Austin Eagles - nuff said

You won't believe what I stumbled upon during the soccer summer break. Only another Eagles fan club here in l'il old Austin, Texas full of good lookin' ladies. We hit it off and have now formed a coalition. Our new name - The Austin Eaglettes. Not only will we sound and smell as good as we always have but now we will look ace too. My favorite is Miriam with the funny lips at the back. She's actually not pulling a funny face. That's really how she looks. So don't stare when you meet her.

And if that's not enough for ya - soccers back and it's gonna be better than ever!

The new 2016/17 English Premier League season starts tomorrow. There have been some massive changes at our favorite club during the summer months which will need intense evaluation and discussion over the upcoming games. We have some new eaglets under our wing and some old flightless birds have left the roost.

But maybe most importantly the new official uniforms are out and our away kit has been voted the best of all the premier league clubs. Feast your eyes on this banana bonanza

And here's the proof.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/football/0/new-premier-league-kits-201617-ranked/crystal-palace-away-kit-201617/

So, i expect you all to overnight this shirt for the game tomorrow at 9am Fados.

This is the opening game of the season for many clubs and therefore will certainly be feisty.

I look forward to introducing you all to the Eaglettes tomorrow.

The dream is over for the Austin Eagles but we will fight on

We were so close. We were 1-0 up with just ten minutes to go of the game. We were going to do it. We were actually going to win our first ever FA Cup final. That was until one of those Manchester twats went and scored. The game was tied and went to extra time. The air in Fado was ripe with the smell of hope, fear and slightly soggy blood sausage. The game could have been anyones. It was wide open and there for the taking. The ball pinged out to one of their players on the edge of our box at an impossibly hard height to shoot. Before anyone could react, he wrapped his foot around the ball and it flew into our net. My heart sank and my dreams crushed. Part of me wanted to curl up into a ball and die. The other part of me wanted to jump up onto the stage in front of all the Fado Manchester fans cheering wildly, pull my shorts down, slap my naked arse, then jump up and down jabbing my finger at each and every one of them shouting "fuck you, fuck you, fuck you..." I chose to do the latter. It was almost as enjoyable as winning the game. Almost.

A remarkable thing has happened since that crushing day. I had thought pre game that if we lost I would be destroyed, unable to continue leading my Austin Eagles in our fight against tyranny. I was certain that I would be unable to put finger to keyboard to scribe these words bringing together red and blue fans alike. Surely, I couldn't go on, I mused. Amazingly, the opposite has happened.

The sea of red and blue cheering and smiling at Fado was a beautiful sight to behold. Admittedly, it was more of a puddle than a sea but that's what makes our support so strong. Our fans were the last to leave the stadium that day and the last to leave Fado. The palace faithful out-cheered those Manc twats at the game and our Austin Eagles did the same in the bar on many occasions. Soccer pundits have said that you will never see better support at a final than us that day. We were proud of our team and were behind them at the very end. I had an amazing day because what is most important to Crystal Palace is not winning. It's about family and friends. It always has been. You guys made my birthday day something I will never forget. I say this with all honesty. I would have preferred to lose that day with all of you instead of win on my own. Seriously, I would. No, really I would. I really really would. Convincing huh?

It is because of you and your support that I have more resolve for next season my feathered friends. It starts August 13th and we will all be ready to fight and scrap and claw our way through it. And during the battle, we will all be singing and cheering and smiling and hugging and generally being better fans that those Mancs.

Thank you all for your support this year.

Austin Eagles - say no more

"I have a dream" - The Austin Eagles win the final

I have had a revelation. I am not just an avid Austin Eagle but actually a modern day Martin Luther King. MLK had a dream. I have a dream. He dreamt of glory for black. I dream of glory for red and blue. He led a mighty army of African Americans against the tyranny of evil white men. I will lead a mighty army of Austin Eagles against the tyranny of evil red and white men when Crystal Palace play Manchester United this Saturday in the final of the FA Cup. And finally, he died after being shot in the mouth. I will feel like dying after having lots of shots in my mouth. It's uncanny I know.

It's dreamtime my Austin Eagles. It is not an exaggeration to say that I have fantasized about this moment for 26 years. It was way back in 1990 when we last came this close to getting our hands on the FA Cup. We lost that game and I have rued that chance to win ever since. We now have that chance again and of course it's against the same team...the evil, the hated, the loathsome Mancunian Red Devils.

I am more excited than a dog with two dicks, and two tongues, and two bones. I can't sit still I am so excited. I have red and blue ants in my red and blue pants. This Saturday I may be more drunk than you have ever seen me. Remember that time I bucked Buck tugging on his blankie while half asleep. Yep, more drunk than that. Remember that time two weeks after meeting Heather when I fell and got stuck in a dirty clothes basket looking distinctly like a turtle flipped on its back. Yep, more drunk than that.

My dream for this weekend is not only to win this game but to have all my friends dressed in red and blue cheering alongside me. I dream of drowning out the tedious sounds and pathetic chants of United fans at Fado. I dream of hearing these pitiful peons announce how they can't believe how many Eagles there are. And believe me when I say that there will be plenty of the glory supporting fools present so we will need to be in full voice. I shall be turning the ripe old age of 40 the following weekend and I can think of nothing better than seeing Palace fans outnumber United fans at Fado. THAT IS MY DREAM.

I am not to proud to beg my friends. If you have a spare two hours next Saturday then don your red and blue and join me and the Austin Eagles at Fado to finally take what is ours. The game starts at 11.30am but the festivities may last into the night.

This was from the the last game of the season last year. Let's make this year even better.

To get yourself primed and ready, take a glimpse at the unofficial but rather catchy song below made just for this final by some fellow feathered fans.

Fear not friends, there's another year for The Austin Eagles

I know you have been worried. "How will I live if Palace get relegated and these life-changing blog posts disappear?" I hear you say. "What else could I possibly do on a Saturday morning at 9am if I don't get to watch Palace at Fado?" many have said. Sadly, I have been unable to grant solace to my local red and blue brigade as I myself have been in a state of panic. I have lost count of how many loyal Austin Eagles have turned to the drink fearful of the worst. Well, you may fear no longer my feathered friends. Screw that Tito's cap back on, return that keg and check yourself into rehab as today was the day we survived.

It has been a long time coming but finally today our brave boys sealed one more year of televised Premier League football. Just hours ago, we beat Stoke City 2-1 giving us enough points to guarantee that we will not be relegated to the lower division this year. There is no TV coverage of the lower leagues which means that if we had dropped down then the Austin Eagles would be no more. Staggering, I know. I would like to share something I wrote today.

Dear Diary,

Today is the greatest day ever. I shall never tell my wife this.

Woody

We have one more game to go in the league next weekend against Southampton on Sunday at 9am. I intend to be at Fado as long as my wife doesn't read this.

However, this is not the end. We have another game the following weekend. A little matter of the FA CUP FINAL AGAINST MANCHESTER UNITED. My recent greatest day ever will easily be surpassed if we win that. I will be sending an email out to all begging for a massive showing at Fado for that. We need to outnumber the manky Manchester mancs and show them that folks from the south are smarter, fitter and more handsome than any northerners, something you Texans I am sure will agree.

Come on you Eagles

The Austin Eagles in trophy triumph

This is it folks. The day has come. Our brave Eagles may suck in the league but we are titanic destroyers in the FA Cup. We have eliminated some huge teams on our way to this weekend's semi final. On Sunday we face the Watford hornets who, like this image, will seem insignificant and feeble to the steely gaze of our boys in red and blue.

Experts are now predicting that we will remain in the Premier League for another season and I predict that we will be supreme champions of this historic cup competition which has been running since 1871. We have never won it.

For the first time since game one we finally have all our players fit and ready after a year of injuries have ravaged the team.

Please join me at Fado on Sunday at 10am. If we win this one, which we are slight favorites to do, we progress to the final.