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heartofstanding · 1 year

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Blanche of England’s death

I talked about this a little bit earlier but I wanted to give it its own space because it seemed important to do so.

I'd been very confused about what happened to Henry IV’s daughter Blanche of England after she left England, primarily because every historian seems to have tell us different things about her about whether she had children and when she had them and how she died.

Mary Anne Everett Green provides the most detailed account of her in the romanticised Victorian history, Lives of the Princess of England. She tells us Blanche had a stillbirth when she was not more than 15 and when she was “advanced in her second pregnancy”, she suffered a fever, recovered, then remained feverish with frequent nosebleeds before a “premature” confinement, and died on 22 May 1409, giving birth to a son who was named Rupert who died at around nineteen years of age in 1426.

James Hamilton Wylie in History of England Under Henry the Fourth provides the second-most detailed account Blanche’s life but his account of her death is much simpler. He mentions a sickness but states she died in childbirth. As for her son, Rupert, Wyle says he was five years old at Blanche’s death, meaning she would have given birth when she was 12.

Ian Mortimer states Blanche died in childbirth and makes reference to her “infant” son but does not mention when this child was born. The inference meant to be drawn may be that Blanche died giving birth to this son.

Chris Given-Wilson states she died from a fever but does not mention her son.

In Blood Roses, Kathryn Warner says Blanche married “the elector Palatine of the Rhine, Ludwig von Wittelsbach, and died childless in 1409 at the age of 17″ and goes on to say that Henry IV had only one legitimate grandchild - Henry VI.

A few blog posts give more detail - but being blogposts, it’s hard to know what their sources are and if they’re just cribbing off Wikipedia, which tells us that Blanche’s son was born in 1406 and nicknamed “Rupert the English“, and that Blanche died of a fever with symptoms of nosebleeds and fainting.

Ian Mortimer quotes from the letters from Blanche’s husband and father-in-law to Henry informing him of Blanche’s death and these letters, according to the blog posts, are the source of the fever story. So I looked up Mortimer’s reference to the letters and found, happily, they were online on archive.org. Unhappily, they’re all in Latin and I can’t read Latin and they were lengthy enough that there was no way I was going to pester anyone into translating them for me.

Happily, it was possible to select, copy and paste the text of the letters so I began the process of doing just that with the painstaking bonus experience of checking each and every word to make sure it’d copied accurately (which was an issue due to the scan quality and the text’s use of letters fallen into disuse like the æ, which never copy correctly). And then I’d paste a passage into Google Translate, thinking that it’d at least give me at the very least an indication of what was being said so I could find the relevant passage(s) on Blanche’s death and send them to someone to check over. Amazingly, unlike previous attempts to Google Translate Latin, it didn’t read like some bullshit.

Here’s what Rupert, King of the German says about Blanche’s death:

Cogimur nempe flebilem casum inclitissimae filiae vestrae, quondam nurus nostrae dilectissimae, reserare, quae cum de prolis jam esset genuine impregnata, et apud illustrem primogenitum nostrum, quem tenerrimo amore prosequebatur, in Alsatiae partibus moraretur, continuatis quibusdam febribus tacta, tandem invalescente morbo, sumptis devotissime ecclesiasticis sacramentis, sicut Altissimo placuit, cujus judicia abyssus multa, ab hujus caducae vitae ergastulo ie vicesima secunda mensis praeteriti, est avulsa

[We are compelled to open the lamentable case of your dearest daughter, once our most beloved daughter-in-law , who, when she was already truly impregnated with children, and stayed with our illustrious first-born, whom she pursued with the most tender love, in the parts of Alsace, being touched by some continued fevers, at last succumbing to an illness, most devoutly by the ecclesiastical sacraments, as it pleased the Most High, whose judgments are many in the abyss, she was torn from the prison of this transitory life, that is, the twenty-second of the past month.]

And here’s Louis, Blanche’s husband:

Placuit Altissimo, Cujus judicia colligere nemo potest, super illustrem filiam vestram, amabilissimam atque suavissimissam quondam conjugem, meam, paulo ante principium mensis Maii proximo praeteriti febre quadam triduana pereutere, per ante sex ut puto mensibus inpregnatam. Qua aliqualiter temperata, cum jam salus adesse speraretur, quotidiana febris supervenit, quae debilem ac teneram juvenculam adeo fatigavit, quod fere quotidie videbatur spiritum exhalare. Admixta erat frequens sincopis et sanguinis per nares effluxus nimium copiosus, quae omnia fuerunt paulatim, Dei auxilio et physicorum ministerio, refraenata. Fuerunt nihilominus inter haec sibi devote suscipienti ministrata ecclesiastica sacramenta; sed tandem cum vires essent interiores exhaustae, nullus fuit digestioni locus, nec amplius natura aliquod habuit sustentamentum; unde infaustissima mihi die, xxii.

[It pleased the Most High, Whose judgments no one can gather, to smite your illustrious daughter, my most lovely and sweet wife once, a little before the beginning of the month of May last past, with a three-day fever, having been pregnant for six months, as I think. This being in some measure moderated, when it was now hoped that she would be safe, a daily fever came on, which exhausted the weak and tender young woman so much, that almost every day she seemed to give up her breath. It was mixed with frequent syncope and excessive flow of blood through the nose, all of which were gradually controlled by the help of God and the service of physicians. Nevertheless, among these there were ecclesiastical sacraments administered to the devout recipient; but at last, when the inner forces were exhausted, there was no room for digestion, and nature no longer had any support; hence the most unlucky day for me, the 22nd.]

Both say, clearly, that she died of fever and that she was pregnant - Louis is the most explicit, saying she was believed to be around six months pregnant. Neither mention her giving birth or suffering a stillbirth. It’s possible she suffered a stillbirth and this wasn’t mentioned but it’s quite a leap to claim that she died in childbirth. Unless Louis was extremely off in his estimation, too, there is no way the child could have survived. Today, babies born at around 24 weeks/six months gestation are classed as extremely preterm and without modern medicine, there’s no way that the baby would survive.

Both letters do mention (as does Henry IV’s reply) taking comfort in Blanche’s surviving son but they do not state this is the child Blanche was pregnant with at the time of her death. They also don’t mention when he was born or how old he was. I wouldn’t know where to start in order to check that detail, particularly because I don’t speak German. I’m inclined to trust, though, that the German authors of an English article on Blanche’s crown when they state her son Rupert was born in 1406 (these claims are also in the German Wikipedia page for Blanche), particularly because they cite an academic (?) reference for it.

So, in short: Blanche gave birth to her first and only child, Rupert the English, in 1406, when she was 14, and died three years later on 22 May 1409 at age 17 when she was around six months pregnant with her second child. Her cause of death is explicitly given as an illness causing fever, fainting and nosebleeds. Nothing is mentioned of childbirth, miscarriage or stillbirth.

I get it, you know. Blanche died when she was 17 years old. She was young and never had the chance to do anything important, much less leave her mark on history in a way that tells us anything about her. She’s most often talked about in the context of her crown (known as the Palatine or Bohemian Crown) and even there, she’s of only interest as the means by which the crown came to be returned to or came to be owned by the House of Wittelsbach, with more attention given to the crown’s make-up or construction and its origins as a crown of Anne of Bohemia and whether it was part of her trousseaux or not.* Blanche left England when she was 10 years old and never returned. Beyond the fact of her short-lived marriage, she had little impact on English history. She never became Electress Palatine in her own right, never had the chance to act as a diplomat between her husband and her father or her brother. Her own son died young (older than his mother but only by two years) and made little mark on history himself - easily, it seems, forgotten by English historians, including some that erase his entire existence.

Blanche is one of those forgotten women, thrice cursed for her early death, by moving out of English history and for her son’s early death. It’s hard to pull the shreds of her life together to tell her story in a way that centres her and not her husband or her father. I can work out how she died but stymied by the barriers of language, geography and training, I can’t work out how she lived. But at the very least, historians should do her the dignity of getting the few details of her life right.

* I don’t say this as a sort of “boohoo, Blanche never gets any attention, even when she’s talked about she plays third fiddle to a beautiful but inanimate object and its original owner, she should be talked about instead of them”. We can say a lot more about the crown’s construction and origins than we can about Blanche. I say this to point out how little can be and is said or known about Blanche.

#blanche of england #text posts #tw death #tw death in childbirth #tw child pregnancy

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thelonesomequeen · 2 years

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talking about biographies, would you like Chris to write his own? 👀 and if not him, which actor (of around his age) would you like to read their biography? /

OH 👀 not a question for me but I'd really like to read one about seb stn. idk if you've paid attention to what he says but he always mentions trauma while growing up/in his childhood and yet has never spilled the beans. I'd be so interested to know what happened for him (plus I'm just really interested about reading people's lives under communism so I'd love that, maybe it's just morbo which is horrible but 🤷🏽‍♀️)

I’d love to hear other’s responses to the biography questions! What celeb do you want to write one?

And I agree, I didn’t know about that with Seb and it would be interesting to read about if he’s willing to share 🦎

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full-on-sam · 9 months

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Happy WBW, my wonderful morbo<3

Tell me something magic (or an equivalent of magic, like advanced tech, superpowers, beings or spirits with supernatural abilities, gods etc.) cannot do in your WIP. Is there a reason you chose this limit specifically?

Hello my dear morbo!! Thanks for the question, and sorry for being a whole day late! Things have been ectic because packing!

So, as I mentioned in another answer there are actually 8 types of magic. The main limit is given by the elements, and what they allow. If people cannot connect with nature, their element and themselves, nothing happens.

Plus for certain types of magic, gods underwent is required, and things like Necromancy or similar are only granted extremely rarely!

#ask answered #my work #author's work #wbw #wbw ask #worldbuilding wednesday

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stahp-right-there-peasant · 3 years

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Okay, idea

What if Morbos’s tail acted like a freaking Charmander’s?

“A fire burns at the tip of this Pokémon's slender tail and has blazed there since Charmander's birth. The flame can be used as an indication of Charmander's health and mood, burning brightly when the Pokémon is strong, weakly when it is exhausted, wavering when it is happy, and blazing when it is enraged. It is said that Charmander dies if its flame goes out. However, if the Pokémon is healthy, the flame will continue to burn even if it gets a bit wet and is said to steam in the rain.”

this has been in my head for a while, please accept this humble offering

#dungeonbreaker #morbos #morbos gloombringer #pokemon #charmander #tw fire mention #tail #blue tiefling #tiefling #d&d tiefling #dnd #d&d #Dungeons and Dragons #Headcanon #just an idea #my ideas

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ladybender · 2 years

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Plot: the professor has to pay one million dollar to the the IRS, and Fry enters "Who's dying to be a gazillionaire?" to help him pay his debt, or Planet Express will be bankrupt (again)

(maybe this was the first mention of that tho?)

Thoughts: best one of my current read! Eric Rogers, you mad lad, you did it again! This should have been the PE bankruptcy episode instead of Neu*pia. it was lots of fun, with the crew all here showing us what a found family is all about: risking your life to get money to bail each other's out. def worth a read!

Freela: PACKED! i'm putting some screenshots under the cut bc spoilers, but for a comic published in 2001 it was IMMACULATE

Frender: sorry folks

Rating: Morbo from my show gets a 9 / 10

i translated the alienese and it’s ''He pulled that one out of his ass” lmao

#futurama #futurama comics #i half remembered this one from long ago but did not expect it to be so wholesome and so full of freela so early on #every comic i read so far was written by eric rogers and i have to admire the man

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fierypen37 · 5 years

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Victory is in Your Veins

another chapter up!

Chapter 3

Day Sixty-Eight: The White Wolf

“Again!” Morrgys bellowed. The Dothraki Morbo lunged, armed with his arakh. Black steel whistled through the salty air. Jon was ready. He ducked the blow and struck out, his punch just missing Morbo’s ear. The staff end of the arakh had a heavier whistle than the blade. Jon had caught that blow often enough to dodge that one too, though just barely. The Dothraki was fast. The pitch of the deck was choppy beneath his bare feet, the sun peeking through thick grey-bellied clouds. The master hadn’t seen fit to arm or armor Jon. As the greenest of Morrgys’ slaves, he must rely on wit and strength. Each blow was a lesson learned.

Jon swept out one leg, knocking Morbo’s legs from under him. He struck quick as a striking snake. Landing one knee hard on his chest, Jon twisted the arakh from his grip and held the razor edge to Morbo’s throat, just beneath the bronze collar. The Dothraki’s black eyes were ablaze with hate, tinged with something colder. Fear. It was the third time Jon had disarmed him today. Morrgys’s disgust was palpable. The string of invective was still incomprehensible to Jon, but he caught the words ‘weak’ and ‘pathetic.’

In the weeks on this miserable ship—in between retching his guts out over the rail—training began before dawn and did not end until well after the sun had set. Strength training was weights tied to wrist and ankle and being thrown overboard. Jon kept his head above water, choking and sputtering until his lungs felt they would burst and his limbs burned as if the very marrow was afire. Stubborn, he kicked and kicked, choking on seawater. Only when the frigid water closed over him did they tow him back aboard. Meals were salt beef and barley stew with stale brown bread, thin beer and brackish water. Hard massage from indifferent hands worked the aches from his muscles at the end of each day. A calculated recipe to tear a man down to nothing and build him up again.

Slavery stripped what little softness lingered on his body. Blisters welled and burst on his hands, the soles of his bare feet. Only accomplished slaves wore shoes. Sorefoot, Thicktongue, they called him as they barked orders in bastard Valyrian. Every night curled onto his mean little cot of dirty straw, scratching at flea bites, he counted each welt and bruise. He scratched a tally of the days on the wall, but soon lost track. Morrgys was not opposed to waking them in the wee hours for more drills. The best fighters in the pits were strong, yes, but more important, they were nimble. Morbo delighted in telling him the savageries that occurred during his fights.

“It is not just men in the pits. The best fighters bleed for their masters. Lesser men, krol, will fight beasts. Lions and bears and the like. There are children. One day, I see a bear in the pit. One young boy was drenched in blood, another in honey, another in rotted fish. The crowd wagered on who the bear would eat first.”

Jon’s belly roiled. The scum of the world gathered on cushioned benches, eating sweetmeats while children were torn apart in front of them. He didn’t think it was possible to loathe them any more than he already did.

“And what are we?” Jon asked. Morbo spat in Jon’s direction.

“‘We,’ ver? I am a prized fighter of the blood of old horselords. You are nothing.”

Jon made no reply. Soon, Morbo grew tired of his taunts and left Jon to the creaking silence of his cell. He understood why the rider hated him, but there was also some strange loneliness in the man’s need to snipe at him.

The others were poorer company, Jon supposed. One was a wildling Hornfoot man by the name of Thyyck who spoke maybe three words of Common and none of Valyrian. A hulking man with tiny black eyes and blue tattoos snaking down his arms, Thyyck in Morbo’s words was ‘worm-meat.’

Two brutes, tall with shaved heads and pierced noses, Morbo called the Twins, though by Jon’s estimate they were not related. The Twins were Morrgys’s hands, eyes, and whips. Foremen, of a type. One doled out their porridge and the other was their masseuse at the end of the day. A master, two foremen, plus the crew and captain of The Tears. Weapons were locked up, the deck patrolled. Each slave was stripped to the skin for inspection before they could bathe after training. Even the drinking water was under lock and key, all to deter mutiny. Four others trained under Morrgys at different intervals, so Jon saw little of them. One was squat and bearded, Norvoshi, if Morbo was to be believed. Two more were water dancers from Braavos, and the last a Dothraki from another khalasar.

So the days and weeks bled together.

Jon woke to the heavy tread of sailor’s feet on the deck overhead. He sat up, stretching aches from his muscles. Blearily, he realized the sun was fully risen. There was no porthole in his cell, but the air was warmer, and gods, was that the call of birds? His heartbeat quickened. Land. Were they near a port? Why hadn’t he been woken? The master was a creature of habit, a slave to routine. Had Morrgys had an apoplexy in his sleep? The gods would be too kind to the likes of him were it so. Jon stood to peer beneath his door. Sure enough sunlight peeked through the boards. Jon waited. Time dilated. Jon paced. They were heading south under a strong wind. He unfurled a map in his mind’s eye. South from Eastwatch-By-The-Sea was the wide mouth of the Shivering Sea, then the Neck, the Vale of Arryn. And to the east . . . Braavos!

“That’s it,” Jon said aloud. A slaver’s ship would have to tread carefully around that particular Free City. Founded by escaped slaves, there was little Braavosi despised more. Jon was tempted to scream and beat at the walls of his cell. It was a fool’s fond hope, though. If a Braavosi patrol ship was within range, Morrgys would loose his slaves, fodder for a bravo’s blade. Not to mention, Morrgys was an experienced slaver. Corrupt as wormwood and crueler than Maegor, but he wasn’t stupid.

Faintly, Jon heard the creaking song of the oars and the sonorous beat of the drum marking the time. Time stretched on. Jon sought his usual tricks of distraction: reciting histories, houses, banners, and songs. He exercised to burn away the jitter of drawn nerves. It helped. A bit. The light waned. His throat burned with thirst.

At last the door opened to admit one of the Twins. His bald pate gleamed in the blinding sunset light streaming in behind him. Jon crouched, waiting in silence.

“Eat,” he said, in heavily accented Common. A wooden tray landed with a rattle followed by a waterskin on the floor. The lock screeched shut behind him, trapping Jon in silence and darkness once more. He groped in the dark for the food, scooping cold mutton porridge with his bare hands, gulping gratefully from the waterskin. If they were close to Braavos, it wouldn’t be long until they reached Pentos. Once they landed, he’d face his first real fight.

Day Eighty-Nine: The White Wolf

Pentos assaulted his senses as Morbo and the Twins dragged him in irons off the ship. The sweaty press of the throngs, eyes gawking as fresh slaves staggered on solid ground. It felt as if the sea still pitched beneath him. The length of chain between his feet made for a short, choppy stride. He reeled into one of the Twins, who elbowed him hard in the gut. Wheezing on thick air that tasted of sweat and dust and dung, Jon struggled against the irons lashing his wrists tight to his waist. A babble of languages washed over him, the cries of birds, the bray of donkeys, the gibber of monkeys.

The cobbles were hot beneath his bare feet, the sun beat down on his shoulders. With the Watch, he’d lamented that he’d forget what it was to be warm. It never occurred to him he might one day be too warm. I suppose I need to be more specific in my wishes. Morrgys rode ahead, swathed in the yellow perfumed silk of a palanquin. Dirty children laughed and threw clods of mud, some with rocks. Rich and poor alike sneered down their noses. Even the meanest among them was better than a slave. Shame burned in Jon’s throat. I am a free man, even though I’m a Snow. The son of Eddard Stark. Jon imagined Ghost trotting at his side, garnet-red eyes warding away the press of their stares. It helped.

The sun dipped in the sky as they wended through slums to the fighting pits and training yards. His feet blistered and bleeding, Jon hoped for the cool quiet of a cell. The gleam in Morbo’s eye told him otherwise.

“Maggots, form up! We spar.”

The shame and rage boiled up inside and he was grateful when a Twin twisted the key to unlock the manacles. Morbo tossed a long-bladed spear into his hand. The edge was blunted—Morrgys didn’t want to risk damaging his source of income—but impact could still bruise or break bones if Jon didn’t pull back. That would earn him a beating, or a week without food, but in his current mood, Jon didn’t care. The angry thing inside his chest snarled and growled. He was paired with the Norvoshi, bearded with flowing dark hair. Though older and bigger than Jon, he held the trident gingerly, the net even more so.

Jon spun the spear. He was used to shield and sword, or the bow, but training with Morbo had taught him the flexibility of a staff weapon. Jon edged in a circle to the Norvoshi’s left until the sun was at his back. Any advantage was useful. The Norvoshi gave a testing flick of the net, nearly snagging Jon’s ankle. He sidled back, holding the spear firm in both hands.

“This a fight, not a dance! Attack!” Morbo shouted.

The Twin’s whip cracked hard across Jon’s back, opening a red line of pain. He channeled the snarling pain into his mind, his hands. He charged. The Norvoshi broad face split in a smile, casting the net to snarl around Jon’s legs. Jon anticipated it. He hopped back, yanking the net from his hands and cracking the sturdy haft of the spear across his face. The Norvoshi staggered back and cried out, a couple bloodied teeth fragments dribbling from his mouth. The trident was forgotten in the sand. Fierce and hungry for more violence, Jon lashed out again, knocking his legs from under him. The blade sang, flying in an arch toward that fat exposed throat---

“Zokla timpa! Stop.” Morrgys’s voice cut through the roar of blood in his ears. Jon looked down at the Norvoshi and saw the silver in his hair, the fear naked in his eyes. Bile rose up in his throat and he choked on it, along with shame.

“Take the Norvoshi to the healer. He’ll do for the first grouping tomorrow.” A slave untangled him from the net, while another half-walked, half-dragged his opponent to the squat block of cells beyond the training yard. The first events in the fighting pits were bloodsport: men thrown in with animals or chained together to fight a more skilled fighter. Jon swallowed hard. Tomorrow. Tomorrow Morrgys would test his mettle. Tomorrow he would kill a man, or die himself.

“Morbo, call the next one. Let’s see what the Wolf is made of,” Morrgys said with that hideous oily smile.

There was little relief from the heat in the small hours of the night. His cell was stone with a shelf carved in one wall for him to sleep in. The stone radiated the trapped heat of the sun. His tunic clung to him. The scrape of boots and the clink of ringmail was his lullaby. The thick, humid air made it impossible for him to sleep. Add to that, the looming threat of the fight tomorrow . . . Jon sighed and rolled over.

He studied the pattern of moonlight pared into squares by the iron grate overhead. Gods, how had he ended up here? Three months ago, he was riding with the freefolk to learn what the King-beyond-the-Wall was planning. A year ago, he was Lord Commander Mormont’s steward, wishing to ride in the haunted forest with his uncle. I’m on the far side of the world and a slave. You may as well give me a crown of bells and call me a fool.

A pair of guards stopped on the wall overhead, blotting out the light. Jon peered up, wishing for something as small as the eating knife on his belt. That would be enough to jimmy the lock on the cell door . . .

“What’re your bets for tomorrow?”

“Vogaro lo Morrgys has many skilled fighters, he’s best of the Astapori lot. I’ve put a dozen silver on that Dothraki Gorro, another five on the Tyroshi who prefers the bravo blade—what’s his name?”

“Tycho.”

“Yes, Tycho. He might be a contender against Gorro.”

“Gorro’s gotten fat and slow. Tycho would poke him full of holes and watch the suet run out.”

“Gorro has thirty-three kills to his credit! How many does Tycho have?”

“Seven. But he’s everything Gorro is not. Young, fierce, skilled--”

“Enough! We’ll see on the morrow who has more gold, eh? The crowds are going to be thick. With all this talk of dragons . . .”

Jon, who listened intently to the talk of possible opponents in tomorrow’s matches, nearly sneered at the mention of dragons. The second guard seemed to be in accord with him.

“Sailor’s lies. You’d be a fool to believe them.”

“It’s not everyday oarsmen and merchants alike agree,” the first insisted.

“The tales are not the same. Dragons in Asshai, dragons in Qarth, dragons in Lazhar, Dothraki dragons . . . each telling differs from the last.” *

“Only in details. All speak of dragons, and a beautiful young queen.” *

Their voices faded as they moved off into the humid dark. Jon rolled over on his stone bench and turned their words over in his head. Gorro had experience and arrogance hand in hand with it, but was perhaps past his prime. This Tycho sounded like a hungry, wicked fighter.

Sleep crept over him with a thief’s stealth as he was pondering his strategy. And it was dragons that slipped through his dreams. The same sharp clarity as his old dreams of Ghost. The loss throbbed under his breastbone. Alone . . . alone . . . in the dream, he flew. On powerful wings shredding the sky into drops of dew. Empty green land stretched beneath him. Fluffy sheep grazed oblivious of his presence above them. Hunger ached in his belly, his mouth watering for charred hot flesh and thick dark blood. Green fire burst from his black-fanged maw--

“Zokla timpa! Get up!” a Twin growled, yanking on the chain that bound his ankles. Jon half-fell, half-staggered off the sleeping bench, shaking away the dregs of the dream. Part of him wanted to snarl and snap at the small pink thing that would threaten him, burn him in a halo of fire. Jon gulped in great breaths of air, focusing on the cool smooth stone beneath his battered feet.

The sky overhead was still dark, the moon beyond his sight. In the courtyard beyond his cell, he saw slaves being loaded into a donkey-drawn wagon. Jon glimpsed the squat form of the Norvoshi among them. The first events at the fighting pits began soon after dawn. From what Jon overheard, the crowds would be thick even at the early hour as spectators jostled to claim a good seat.

The Twin dragged him by his fetter along the open hall to the bathing rooms. Deep stone baths stood in two rows down a long hall. Open archways were latticed with iron bars. Chained slaves hauled hot water to fill each of the tubs. The rattle of their fetters was so familiar, Jon barely registered the sound.

“Strip and wash. The master wants you clean. That way the crowds can see the blood on you.”

Once alone, Jon peeled off the sweat-stiff brown tunic and sank gingerly into the hot water. The water rose to beneath his chin, some sloshed over the sides as he moved. A dew of sweat pearled on his brow. Gods, when had he last had a hot bath? The heat sank into his bones, making him pleasantly drowsy. Fumbling for the dish, his fingernails sank into soft soap, smelling faintly of lemon. It was a rare pleasure to cleanse himself in silence and privacy. The soap stung unmercifully in his cuts and scrapes, and the chains were awkward and cumbersome, but Jon could bring himself to care. The bath was a welcome distraction to the nerves that now jumped in his belly, now as empty and taut as a drum. Soon the Twin returned leading Morbo and one of the water dancers from the other group.

“Out,” the Twin said, with an impatient tug on Jon’s chains. Jon rose naked from the tub, to the hoots and sneers of the other slaves. The Twin’s hard gaze raked over him.

“The hair and beard are good. The master wants his White Wolf to look like a sunset land barbarian.”

Jon simply glared at him. Familiar hot hate welled up from deep inside. A barbarian to dance to their tune, to entertain with bloodsport. Naked and dripping, Jon was led to separate room stuffed with costumes. Here, a fool’s motley, there a red priest’s scarlet raiment. Odd vestments of armor were found there too—for decoration only, he was told—the crowds came for blood and blood alone. He saw a spiked bronze cap, a half helm with a fish symbol on the brow. A young male slave—Tyroshi judging by his green dyed hair—shuffled forward, armed with a linen towel. His gaze slid avidly over Jon’s body and Jon felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment. Jon snatched it from his hand and dried himself.

A barbarian’s costume was a white wolf skin draped over his shoulders, red paint carving to fang-like points down the sides of his face and a loincloth. No shoes. No weapons. In the yard among the others who proved their competency, Morrgys paced and preened. Each were dressed in flamboyant costumes. One of the water dancers wore a feather cloak like a Summer Islander, the Hornfoot tribesman was dressed in ill-fitting motley. Morbo wore fringed leather trousers and boots, blue paint twisting in spiral patterns down his bare arms and chest.

“A sunset land barbarian from the far north! Zokla timpa!” Morrgys said, his hand draped casually on Longclaw’s pommel. The gleam in his dark eyes was malevolent.

“Are you ready for your first fight?”

#fp37fic #jonerys #snowstorm #Gladiator!Jon #Victory is in your veins

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systemakhaosu · 5 years

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A curse for all those previously mentioned kinds of assholes

In nomine daemonium Laz, Stolas magnus Princeps: Ego Apollo deus formaliter et nolite maledicere Omnis qui cogitat, est ridiculam aliquis ex intentione CT Omnis usus, qui utitur ad contumeliam Omnis qui denegat vel felis contentus uti documentis habenda, et quod post interrogavit Omnis populus qui cum morbos mentis cogitat, et cum triggers sit "iustus adepto super eam" vel utcunque variabilis per eam

Ut vitae enim singulis horum ocellos mortem ruere eis quousque solum bene. Postremo, ut mortem et venit ad portam quae ad aeternum Dei fieri, ut tormentis ab aliquo numine daemonium, animo aut si quis voluerit aliquid agere poenas.

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amplia-mente · 5 years

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Resulta inevitable la elección del tema para la reflexión de hoy. Desde 2002 se celebra todos los días 10 de octubre el Día Mundial de la Salud Mental.

Mental health and suicide are for every day

The choice of theme for today’s reflection is inevitable. World Mental Health Day has been celebrated every October 10th since 2002.

Se trata de una conmemoración promovida por la Federación Mundial para la Salud Mental, apoyada por la Organización Mundial de la Salud. Evidentemente, el espíritu que impulsó la proclamación del día es dar visibilidad pública a una serie de trastornos que afectan a una parte importante de la población mundial. El apoyo a los enfermos y la lucha contra le estigma de la enfermedad mental es uno de los objetivos buscados, consiguiendo con ello una mayor eficiencia en el afrontamiento de estas patologías.

It is a commemoration promoted by the World Federation for Mental Health, supported by the World Health Organization. Clearly, the spirit behind the proclamation of the day is to give public visibility to a number of disorders that affect a significant part of the world’s population. Support for the sick and the fight against the stigma of mental illness is one of the objectives sought, thereby achieving greater efficiency in dealing with these pathologies.

El lema elegido este año no podía ser otro que “Trabajemos juntos para prevenir el suicidio”, si tenemos en cuenta la gran campaña de prevención que la OMS viene realizando durante todo el año 2019 y que ya mencionamos recientemente en Prevención del suicidio.

The slogan chosen this year could not be other than «Let’s work together to prevent suicide», if we take into account the great prevention campaign that the WHO has been carrying out throughout 2019 and that we mentioned recently in Suicide Prevention.

Desde la propia web de la OMS se pueden descargar vídeos y documentos para uso profesional a fin de una mejor divulgación del enorme problema de salud publica que constituyen las 800000 muertes anuales por esta causa.

From the WHO website you can download videos and documents for professional use in order to better disseminate the enormous public health problem that constitute the 800,000 deaths per year from this cause.

El propio presidente de la Federación Mundial para la Salud Mental, ha emitido un mensaje publico a raíz de la conmemoración del día que nos ocupa. En la carta emitida, el Dr. Alberto Trimboli desgrana y explica los motivos y la importancia de la lucha contra la lacra del suicidio. Igualmente esboza las líneas de actuación a seguir insistiendo que no se trata de una lucha puntual de un día, sino de un esfuerzo a seguir durante todo el año.

The president of the World Federation for Mental Health has issued a public message following the commemoration of this day. In the letter issued, Dr. Alberto Trimboli explains the reasons and importance of the fight against the scourge of suicide. It also outlines the lines of action to continue insisting that this is not a one-day fight, but an effort to follow throughout the year.

En España, El Ministerio de Sanidad y especialistas piden a los medios que aborden el problema del suicidio. Parece que en el pasado, existía una regla no escrita en los manuales de estilo de los distintos medios de comunicación, en la que se omitía toda información sobre el suicidio en general y los suicidios mediáticos en particular, para evitar el llamado efecto contagio.

In Spain, Ministry of Health and specialists ask the media to address the problem of suicide. It seems that in the past, there was an unwritten rule in the style manuals of the different media, which omitted all information about suicide in general and media suicides in particular, to avoid the so-called contagion effect.

Los especialistas, a día de hoy, consideran que es necesario un abordaje de este problema de manera transparente y didáctica, alejando las noticias del sensacionalismo y el morbo de un tema que hasta hace poco era considerado tabú. El sensacionalismo en estos temas puede influir en la población de manera negativa, Por el contrario, las noticias correctamente transmitidas, pueden aportar información didáctica que puede ser muy favorable en la prevención.

Specialists today consider that it is necessary to approach this problem in a transparent and didactic way, moving news away from sensationalism and morbidity of a subject that until recently was considered taboo. The sensationalism in these subjects can influence the population in a negative way. On the contrary, the correctly transmitted news can provide didactic information that can be very favorable in prevention.

El suicidio como temática central del Día Mundial de la Salud Mental, nos resulta muy acertado. No en vano, el suicidio suele ser el estadío final de trastornos afectivos y sociales. Personas con depresión que además de no estar correctamente tratados por inasistencia a sus respectivos servicios sanitarios, se refugian en tóxicos como drogas estimulantes o en alcohol “para olvidar”.

Suicide as the central theme of World Mental Health Day is very appropriate. Not in vain, suicide is usually the final stage of affective and social disorders. People with depression who, in addition to not being properly treated due to non-attendance to their respective health services, take refuge in toxic substances such as stimulant drugs or alcohol «to forget».

El gran problema es que este descenso a los infiernos de la depresión, es poco evidente para el entorno del futuro suicida y por ello iniciativas como la promovida este día, ayudan a aportar información al respecto y con ello contribuir a la prevención de la conducta suicida consumada.

The big problem is that this descent into the hells of depression is not very evident for the environment of the suicidal future and therefore initiatives such as the one promoted this day, help to provide information in this regard and thereby contribute to the prevention of consummated suicidal behavior.

From the legal medical point of view, suicide and mental health are daily battle horses in the Spanish Institutes of Legal Medicine, both for the entry of violent deaths of suicidal origin, in which the cause despite being clear in many cases, has to be confirmed by judicial autopsy.

Have a good weekend.

Desde el punto de vista médico legal, el suicidio y la salud mental son caballos de batalla diaria en los Institutos de Medicina Legal españoles, tanto por la entradas de muertes de origen violento de origen suicida, en los que la causa a pesar de ser clara en muchos casos, ha de ser confirmada mediante autopsia judicial.

Tengan un buen fin de semana.

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cyanidenation · 6 years

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youtube

Silent Echoes (2011)

A young teenage girl finds herself trapped in an unknown location. As her captors torture her for information, Amber, being deaf, faces the challenge of escaping her captors while relying on her other four senses. But why did they kidnap her… And what do they want from her?

Well, here it is. Our first short film.

After much deliberation (and a VERY helpful Facebook post), I’ve decided to start posting all of our old short films, one every couple of weeks. Mind you, this is basically old work that was never posted publicly since after the two year “festival run”, we had already produced WAY better quality work, so it felt pointless to post work that was not representative of our current skill level.

Since this is all OLD work, I’m going to start each post by talking a bit about the production process. I will also be sharing whatever behind the scenes photos, promotional material or production stills there may be, but there is very little material for some of these. If you have any questions or comments, please feel free to comment below or write us directly.

OBVIOUSLY, spoilers ahead, so watch the short first!

About Silent Echoes.

The concept for Silent Echoes was born from a challenge posted by Puerto Rican film company Cinemovida Entertainment for a short film festival they would be hosting. You see, Cinemovida would periodically hold themed film festivals, where they would challenge filmmakers to produce, film and edit a 10 minute or less short film with a specific theme of genre, all in the span of one week. In order to assure you didn’t cheat by using old scripts, on the Sunday night the challenge began, you would receive an email with certain specific characters, items and/or elements that HAD to be included in an important role on your short. This would be Cyanide Nation’s SECOND time participating in one of their challenges, as we had participated in the filming of Iron Fiend Productions’ short, “Coulro” for the horror themed “Morbo Fest” on October of the previous year. However, this would be the first time I was writing and directing. Ever.

The theme for this festival was silent films.

The second I read that, my first thought was “yeah, everyone’s gonna try to copy Chaplain (Spoiler Alert: I was right). I wanna do something entirely different”. While brainstorming a bit, I came up with the tale of a deaf girl being kidnapped by thugs. The whole story would be from HER perspective, so we could experience what it was like for her, not being able to hear her captors. We would only be able to glean whatever information she could get through lip reading. I later decided to give it a bit of a sci-fi twist by adding the Project Echo plans on her necklace, something maybe unimportant to the overall plot, but fun for me (I do this a LOT, so prepare for more little personal Easter Eggs in future posts).

On the technical side, it was thanks to the great team of my producer, Luis “Jimmy Joe James” Álvarez and cinematographer/editor Juan J. Vázquez that this was a success, as I had NO idea what I was doing. The original plan was to shoot the whole thing in first person (something done to perfection YEARS later in 2015’s Hardcore Henry), but as we only had a regular Non-HD handicam, since GoPros with body rigs were still a few years off, I had to take some creative liberties and add third-person shots to help transition and move along scenes. Their experience producing shorts for their old production company, Nonzensed, is what really helped to get the ball rolling here. Makeup and special effects were handled by the talented Migui from Stickerms Makeup & FX. I should also mention my wonderful cast that doubled as crew, the always great Jennytr0n, Billy Riff, and Cyanide Nation Studios Alumn, Loki Kypo and Nikki Red for having put up with such an extensive day of filming and insanity. While I’m at it, I should thank my trusted advisor, friend and brother in arms, Raphael Hudders. This man has always been there to help and give all sorts of advice, be it production or life.

The original cut of the short (which was an official selection to be presented at Cinemovida’s Silent Film Fest) featured NO audio dialogue at ALL. We didn’t exactly win any awards, but we did present the most original short in the selection, which was met with praise from other filmmakers. Because of this, I decided to submit the short to the Puerto Rico Horror Film Fest (now known as Lusca Fantastic FIlm Festival). Much to my pleasure (with a heavy dose of genuine surprise), Silent Echoes was also an official selection for this festival. Also much to my surprise, the cut of the short that was handed in to the festival by the producer was a different cut that featured audible dialogue in all the 3rd person shots. This is the only remaining cut of the film that still exists, as all the original footage and previous cuts was lost.

After that wonderful experience at the PRHFF, I decided I wanted to keep making films. I haven’t stopped ever since.

I really hope you enjoyed the short film, despite it’s age. I’ve always considered remaking it in film form or continuing Amber’s story in comic book form. What do YOU guys think? Let me know! In the meantime, enjoy some production stills and the promo poster below!

So here it is, the first short film we ever shot, SILENT ECHOES. Watch it for the first time online and read all about the production at www.cyanidenation.com! Silent Echoes (2011) A young teenage girl finds herself trapped in an unknown location. As her captors torture her for information, Amber, being deaf, faces the challenge of escaping her captors while relying on her other four senses.

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realjkcallaway · 6 years

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Top10 #DystopianSodaFlavors

This Week on @HashtagSkirmish we played #DystopianSodaFlavors! Thanks for playing along and keep joining us every Friday 11:30amE/8:30P! Don't forget to subscribe to J.K. Callaway's YouTube Channel! All of @HashtagSkirmish Top10's will be featured as well as other content you won't want to miss! http://www.youtube.com/jkcallaway Also Please make sure you Download and Play Along on the @HashtagRoundup App and Join us April 13th for our next @HashtagSkirmish Game! And Now... Here is Our Top10 for April 6th, 2018's @HashtagSkirmish Game #DystopianSodaFlavors! 10.

#DystopianSodaFlavors wild cherry bomb Pepsi pic.twitter.com/hdJ0KjzhFq

— ☄️StarryEyezz☄️ (@SEyezz) April 6, 2018

Loot Beer #DystopianSodaFlavors

— Morbo 2020!!! (@pezosaurus) April 6, 2018

Fallout Fanta #DystopianSodaFlavors

— SmartSassery (@SmartSassery) April 6, 2018

#DystopianSodaFlavors Burnt Out Sun-kist

— James (@praisegilgamesh) April 6, 2018

Mountain Don't. #DystopianSodaFlavors

— MartiRecklessSimmons (@MarthaReckless) April 6, 2018

Now with 100% more cat! #DystopianSodaFlavors

— President Jeff (@PresidentJeffPJ) April 6, 2018

Sadness.#DystopianSodaFlavors

— ♏ẫяҡ O' Høğġặñ ™ ® © (@Markho23) April 6, 2018

Clean water #DystopianSodaFlavors @realJKCallaway

— Jeff Joblum (@JoeyFontana3) April 6, 2018

Fountain drink 451 #DystopianSodaFlavors

— Just Heather (@dishs_up) April 6, 2018

Before we get to our #1 here are a few Honorable Mentions including one from our host @realJKCallaway!

Shaman Pepper #DystopianSodaFlavors @HashtagSkirmish

— J.K. Callaway (@realJKCallaway) April 6, 2018

Mountain Doom #DystopianSodaFlavors

— Dreamweasel (@Dreamweasel) April 6, 2018

#DystopianSodaFlavors Flint Bottled Water pic.twitter.com/CDvrteAATN

— Bella Donna 🍷 (@DonnaMLanglais) April 6, 2018

Coke Zero Hope#DystopianSodaFlavors

— Roe's Ghost (@RoeGhost) April 6, 2018

Launch Code...#DystopianSodaFlavors

— ŁȺᵾǤĦƗNǤ 💀 SꝀᵾŁŁ (@laughingskull59) April 6, 2018

A Clockwork Orange Crush #DystopianSodaFlavors

— Bill McMinn (@billmcminn) April 6, 2018

#DystopianSodaFlavors

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bluerainofcomets · 6 years

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Hey;

I suppose it is understood that there is no physiological or emotional need other than perhaps the unattainable pleasure of wanting to attract the attention of people that sometimes we do not even know, it is a bit incoherent to say to everyone "love yourself" while we automatically show photographs of our bodies on social media as if they were pieces of meat for sale. This influences the masses in a very demanding manner, as if it were a prerequisite to have; 1. "Perfect" bodies 2. Immense amounts of followers or consumers of morbid or meat. and if that were not enough, but not more important; 3. Forgetting ourselves.

It is obvious that I am not the one to talk about this message directly because of this I am included in many things that I mention as points. We love going to the beach, going out to discover places and enjoying the natural beauty that exists, but from there to show this "lifestyle" to supposedly the people who follow us; there is a narrow difference between showing and selling; I WARN THAT I HAVE NOTHING PERSONALLY AGAINST ALL THOSE WHO LIVE IN "SOCIAL MEDIA" NOR ANYONE WHO LOVES PHOTOGRAPHY IN BIKINIS BECAUSE IF IT WAS AGAINST THEMSELVES AND OBVIOUSLY IT WOULD NOT HAVE AN ABSOLUTE SENSE, BUT NOT is the same sell to enjoy, or case you have thought about how many men and women have seen your back ?, or how many of them are criticizing these actions ?, certainly possibly a large number of them.

This message is not for those who show the buttocks as an intelligence trophy, or for those who sell their bodies for fun, or those who simply try to get things that possibly do not fit into their coffins when they die, it is for people who after do all these nonsense do not even know who they are themselves, that perhaps when looking in their mirrors see the creation of their demands or "goals", for those who are very depressed and in all these photographs are shown as the happiest human beings of the earth, for those who prefer to be someone else who are not really forgetting themselves and how beautiful they are naturally. This message is for you and me, for the skinny, the "fat", bulimic, sick, obsecionadas, "whores", and all we have, are and will be judged when after this and many other messages begin to be who they really are.

- Share happiness; no "demand". -

With love and a little anger; Rain.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Supongo que se sobreentiende que no existe necesidad fisiológica o emocional alguna aparte de quizás el placer inalcanzable de querer llamar la atención de personas que aveces ni siquiera conocemos, es un poco incoherente decir a todos "love yourself" mientras automáticamente mostramos fotografías de nuestros cuerpos on social media como si fuesen trozos de carne en venta. Esto influye sobre las masas de manera sumamente exigente, como si fuese un pre - requisito tener; 1. Cuerpos "perfectos" 2. Cantidades inmensas de seguidores o consumidores de morbo o carne. y por si fuera poco pero no mas importante; 3. Olvidarnos de nosotras/os mismos.

Es palpable que no soy quien para hablar de este mensaje directamente por esto me incluyo en muchísimas cosas de las que abalo como puntos. Nos fascina ir a la playa, salir a descubrir lugares y disfrutar de las bellezas naturales que existen, pero de ahí a mostrarle este "lifestyle" a supuestamente las personas que nos siguen; existe una estrecha diferencia entre mostrar y vender; ADVIERTO QUE NO TENGO NADA PERSONAL EN CONTRA DE TODOS AQUELLOS QUE VIVEN DE "SOCIAL MEDIA" NI TAMPOCO A TODAS LAS QUE NOS ENCANTAN LAS FOTOGRAFÍAS EN BIKINIS PORQUE SI ASÍ FUESE ESTUVIERA EN CONTRA DE MI MISMA Y OBVIAMENTE NO TENDRÍA SENTIDO ABSOLUTO, PERO, no es lo mismo vender que disfrutar, o a caso has pensado aproximadamente cuantos hombres y mujeres te han visto el trasero?, o, cuantos de ellos están criticando estas acciones?, sin duda posiblemente un gran numero de ellas.

Este mensaje no es para las que muestran las nalgas como trofeo de inteligencia, o para aquellas que venden sus cuerpos por diversión, o aquellos que simplemente intentan conseguir cosas que posiblemente al morir no les quepa dentro de sus ataúdes, Es para personas que luego de hacer todas estas bobadas ni siquiera saben quien son así mismos, que quizás al mirarse en sus espejos vean la creación de sus exigencias o "goals", para aquellos que llevan mucho depresivos y en todas estas fotografías se muestran como los seres humanos mas felices de la tierra, para aquellos que prefieren ser otra persona que en realidad no son olvidándose de si mismos y de lo hermosos que son naturalmente. Este mensaje es para ti y para mi, para la flaca, las "gordas", bulimicas, enfermas, obsecionadas, "putas", y todas las que hemos, somos y vamos a ser juzgadas cuando despues de este y otros tantos mensajes empiecen a ser quien en realidad si son.

- Comparte felicidad; no "exigencia". -

Con amor y un poco de enojo; Lluvia.

#quoteoftheday #AmateDeVerdad TrueLove BeYourinsideself BeHappiness ShareHappinessNoDemand Inspire TakeAutoCare YOUbeforeOThers HABLA SPEAK LluviaQuoteOfTod

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othersportsnews-blog · 7 years

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Neymar drama overshadows Barcelona tour of the United States

New Post has been published on https://othersportsnews.com/neymar-drama-overshadows-barcelona-tour-of-the-united-states/

Neymar drama overshadows Barcelona tour of the United States

The ESPN FC panel believe Gerard Pique’s admission that he’s persuading Neymar to keep has blown the doorways off this transfer saga.

Steve Nicol and Stewart Robson debate whether Coutinho is the only possibility to change Neymar if he leaves Barcelona.

LANDOVER, Md. — Neymar’s predicament is true. If you check out to search at the scenario objectively, it really is effortless to realize why he would want to shift to a team where by he’s promised the environment and more. Top billing and a handsome contract at Paris Saint-Germain would be appealing to a lot of players. On the other hand, who would want to leave Barcelona, potentially Europe’s finest team around the last decade, and the luxurious of taking part in along with Luis Suarez and Lionel Messi?

It truly is surely not black and white. Several individuals have been in conditions with many similarities and not had a clue of what to do. Neymar’s a 25-yr-aged who has some individuals telling him a single matter and other folks telling him yet another. Go to PSG, choose the income, be the star and acquire the Ballon d’Or is becoming whispered in a single ear. In his other ear, as Gerard Pique verified in a news conference at FedEx Discipline on Tuesday, he’s got the Barca players.

“In Paris, if he does not acquire the Champions League he won’t get the recognition he will ought to have,” Pique mentioned. “That is his only possibility in Paris, due to the fact, with all due regard, it really is an inferior league. He still has doubts, but we are seeking to encourage him [to keep].”

That mentioned, Neymar could have long gone about factors better. As hard as the situation he’s in is — specifically with so much vitriol on football Twitter — he owes it to his teammates and the supporters to be genuine. It truly is not truthful for other folks to have to speak for him.

There is an factor of theatre to it, of system. On Tuesday, when the relaxation of the Barca players slumped on the floor and stocked up on liquids following their instruction session in the Maryland night sun, he entertained the group by taking several penalties. Then, when the relaxation of his teammates trudged off down the tunnel, Neymar alternatively jumped around the barricades into the stand at the rear of the purpose he’d been taking penalties in. There sat his dad, the ringleader of this whole circus, enjoying the drama from the front row. Neymar gave him a kiss and then seemed at something on his cell phone. Nothing at all particularly abnormal about that, but given the situations, it could quickly be perceived as taking part in up to the cameras.

After all, Neymar’s foreseeable future has prompted a media storm all over Barca’s American tour. Barca landed last Wednesday and place Sergi Roberto and Jasper Cillessen in front of the media the next working day. Both equally were inundated with queries about Neymar. Roberto had to ask for that the gathered journalists talk to about something else. The next working day, at Crimson Bull Arena, Sergio Busquets and Ernesto Valverde endured the very same fate. Valverde, once more, speaking following Barca’s acquire around Juventus on Saturday, had to make clear Neymar’s situation at the club for the next time. On Monday morning, it was Jordi Alba. And on Tuesday, it was Pique and Javier Mascherano, the previous clearing up that his tweet at the weekend suggesting Neymar “stays” was just his intestine emotion, nothing formal.

Neymar has all eyes on him, but he probably could be managing the focus better.

In the middle of all this, Barca are meant to be preparing for a new year less than a new coach. But there has been minimal aim on that.

Even on the pitch, the aim Saturday was on Neymar with his two excellent ambitions against Juve at MetLife Stadium. If becoming the centre of focus is what he desires, if which is genuinely why he is weighing up a shift to Paris Saint-Germain — not due to the fact of income not due to the fact the French club can supply a better sporting undertaking — then he’s certainly getting what he desired.

There has been staggeringly minimal mentioned about Messi or Suarez, Neymar’s trident teammates at Camp Nou for the duration of the tour. That even with Messi returning to the club in an intriguing period in his career. Now 30, we have fewer Messi left than we have already witnessed, and he’s established for a more central position less than Valverde. Towards Juve he was great — albeit overshadowed by Neymar’s exhibit — and Diario Activity report that he broke his preceding GPS preseason records in relation to kilometres run, acceleration, top pace, pace around twenty metres and cardio potential.

It was just about dropped on Tuesday that Barca are truly right here to participate in Manchester United in the International Champions Cup — not to participate in out Neymar’s next shift. That in by itself would usually carry its own angles. Pique applied to participate in for United and speaks hugely of them. It would have been intriguing to listen to his views on how they are shaping up less than Jose Mourinho. And Mourinho. Former Serious Madrid supervisor Mourinho. What about the morbo? Admittedly Barca’s news conference was slice shorter — they were caught in website traffic on route to FedEx Discipline — but there was no fascination in something other than Neymar. Not genuinely.

Maybe on Wednesday that will alter. Maybe United will hammer Barca and we will have a premature debate about whether Barca’s existing technology is in decline for the 10th time. Maybe they’re going to hammer United, with an inspired functionality from Carles Alena and we can all chat about why he’s better than Neymar anyway. Maybe we will have infinite other factors to chat about.

But that does not alter how terribly this situation’s been managed. It truly is comprehensible that Neymar is having difficulties to make a final decision, but it really is unfair that his teammates are left to remedy the queries when he posts cryptically on social media and maintains his silence.

The silence is most likely to drag on, even though, Barca’s tour continuing to slip by in the track record. If United right here won’t be able to alter that, perhaps a Clasico in Miami against Serious Madrid can? After all, it really is not envisioned there will be a definitive remedy possibly way on Neymar’s foreseeable future right up until the Catalan facet have left the States.

Samuel Marsden covers Barcelona for ESPN FC. Abide by him on Twitter @SamuelMarsden.

Supply connection

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finbar42 · 4 years

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“San Mames is more than a stadium and Athletic Club de Bilbao is more than just a football club. Both are potent symbols of Basque pride (Real Sociedad and Osasuna notwithstanding) among a people whose language, culture and political aspirations often cause ire and frustration in Madrid but inspire intense loyalty on the football pitch.”

Simon Inglis

Sound familiar? Read on to find out more about another of our friends abroad.

Glorious Beginnings

Although Athletic’s statutes were not signed until 1901 and the Bilbao team that won the first Copa de España the following year was called Club Viscaya. The proud Basques claim 1898 as the founding date and the first Cup as theirs and nobody in Spanish football, not even the Liga de Fútbol Profesional, is prepared to argue with them.

As Spanish Champions in 1902, 1903, 1904, 1910 and 1911, Athletic Bilbao were without doubt the force that dominated football in Spain throughout the early years. Furthermore, that early Athletic team in Rafael Moreno Aranzadi better known as ‘Pichichi boasted the first legendary goalscorer in Spanish football and to this day Spain’s top goalscorer each season is known as the Pichichi.

By 1913, the club was so successful and popular that they opened Spain’s first stadium San Mamés, which is quite rightly known as The Cathedral of Spanish football.

Basque Dominance

The Lions continued to dominate Spanish football with five more Copas del Rey in 1914, 1915, 1916, 1921 and 1923.

It’s significant too that not only Bilbao dominated Spanish football but the Basques did in general. In the 1920 Antwerp Olympics in which Spain won the Silver medal most of the team was made up of Basques, and of the 10 teams that made up the first Liga in 1928, 4 were were Basque – Athletic Club, Real Sociedad, Arenas de Getxo and Real Unión de Irun, who in 1930 were joined by Alavés making half of the Liga Basque.

Mister Bowler Hat

Another figure worth a special mention in the story of Athletic Club and Spanish football is ex-Blackburn Rovers player Fred Pentland. He was tempted to coach Bilbao from Santander in 1922 by the succulent offer of 1,000 pesetas a month and was famous for wearing a bowler, smoking fat cigars and introducing one-touch football to Spain. In 1923 he led Athletic Bilbao to their ninth Copa del Rey title but moved on in 1925.

Many other clubs had English coaches at the time but Pentland’s bowler hat and that he insisted on being called Mr Pentland have gone down in history. To this day, the coach of any Spanish team is still referred to as ‘El Mister’ and for Athletic fans he is almost as legendary as Pichichi.

Pentland’s second stint in Bilbao brought the Liga-Copa double in 1930 and 1931 and two further Copas del Rey in 1932 and 1933, in which Athletic Club were also Liga runners-up – it was very nearly four doubles on the trot.

This period also brought the famed phrase ´Poco te queda bombín! Sólo tres minutos!’ – ‘Little time for you bowler hat! Only three minutes!’ – owing to the fact that whenever Athletic Club won the players would whip off his bowler hat and jump on it until it was destroyed. Pentland had a standing order with a London haberdasher for 20 bowler hats a year but had to send for extra bowler hats for four consecutive seasons!

The Stand Against Fascism

Just as with FC Barcelona in Catalonia, Athletic Club is associated with the defence of the Basque cause against fascism and it was an ex-Athletic Club player, José Antonio Aguirre, who presided over the first legitimate Basque government at the start of the Spanish Civil War in 1936 – a government that was in power when Franco allowed Hitler to send his airforce to rain bombs on the Basque town of Guernika.

When football resumed in 1939, Athletic Club’s successes just like Barcelona’s were seen as a blow to the regime and what’s more Athletic Club’s successes were based on their cantera (youth team) policy – the club to this day will only field Basque players �� and in 1941 Telmo Zarraonaindia, more conveniently known as Zarra, made his debut for the club. In the following 13 seasons Zarra went to score 294 goals including 38 in 1950-51 season, a tally equalled by Hugo Sánchez in 1989-90, but to this day unbeaten.

Franco banned foreign words in club names like Athletic Club so it was Club Atlético de Bilbao that won the Liga-Copa double in 1943 and further Copas, now renamed the Copa del Generalísimo, in 1944 and 1945.

Other Copas del Generalísimo followed in 1950, 1955, 1956, which was also another Liga-Copa double season, and 1958 but, just like with Barcelona, the sixties and seventies were a relatively fallow period as hegemony in both football and politics had definitively moved to Madrid.

The Return of Democracy

In the first Basque derby between Athletic Club and Real Sociedad on the December 5 1975, just two weeks after the death of Franco, Athletic’s Iribar and Real’s Kortabarria walked out onto the pitch carrying the Ikurriña, the still illegal Basque flag, and democracy brought with it another period of success for Athletic Club.

Under Javier Clemente, the club won the Liga in 1983 and bagged the double again in 1984. However, whilst remaining amongst the three Spanish clubs never to have been relegated to Segunda, the last two decades have been increasingly difficult for Athletic Club, an unquestionable ‘grande’ of Spanish football.

Traditional Values in the Modern Game

The increasing globalisation and commercialisation of football, particularly since the Bosman ruling in 1996, has brought more international stars to Spain and for Athletic Club, who have remained true to their ‘cantera’ policy, success has been difficult to come by and have been happy to finish the season mid-table when not involved in relegation battles.

However, a survey in the nineties revealed that 76% of Athletic supporters wanted the club to remain true to its roots and perhaps the words that club president José María Arrate wrote in the introduction to the club’s centenary book best sum up the sentiments that many of us would like our clubs to uphold.

‘Athletic Bilbao is more than a football club, it is a feeling – and as such its ways of operating often escape rational analysis. We see ourselves as unique in world football and this defines our identity. We do not say we are better or worse than others, merely different. We only wish for the sons of our soil to represent our club, and in so wishing we stand out as a sporting entity, not a business. We wish to mould our players into men, not just footballers, and each time that a player from the cantera makes his debut we feel we have realised an objective which is in harmony with the ideologies of our founders and forefathers.’

Quoted in Phil Ball’s excellent book on Spanish football ‘Morbo’

Aupa Athletic! “San Mames is more than a stadium and Athletic Club de Bilbao is more than just a football club.

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