(no subject)
Just sittin' here with a toothpick wedged between my two front teeth in an attempt to widen the gap that's pretty non-existing as of lately.*
Not much else going on...
IFK! IFK! IFK IFK IFK!
Yeah, we won. What an exciting game! Seriously! I always say that, but wow. At fulltime, the score was 26-26. Which means: overtime. I cannot remember the last time I saw a handball game go into overtime. Ten years ago? That wouldn't be an exaggerated estimation.
The final score was 32-31. This is why I love handball so damn much: Anything can happen! We were three goals behind with five minutes left of the regular game time. It's not impossible to catch up, but it's rare. But Ola Lindgren took one of his magical timeouts (not kidding, shit always happens after he does that) and BAM. No goals were let in (Henrik Nordlander in the goal, only nineteen years old), and all our shots went in.
Nothing's set in stone. To win the semi-finals, and advance to the final, you have to win three out of five games. The score is currenly 1-1. But I'm so friggin' happy about this. Not only because it boosts the guys' confidence (it's not easy going up to Eskilstuna, the score being 0-2...), but also because everyone in Eskilstuna was so damn cocky, saying they'll beat us easy in three games straight. Suck it, bitches!
I'm also happy to announce that it was a pretty fair game. In terms of injuries, anyway. I was really scared that there would be blood. But no. Even though no one cares, I'll probably post pictures tomorrow or the day after. Dad brought the camera (and completely humiliated me by snapping pictures as I hugged my friends. Poor boys...)
(*This is a big deal because I've always had a gap between my front teeth and now it's gone. It's not about appearance - it's not that noticable, I'm still me - but it feels weird. It's like my teeth are rubbing against each other, and it's uncomfortable.)
Not much else going on...
IFK! IFK! IFK IFK IFK!
Yeah, we won. What an exciting game! Seriously! I always say that, but wow. At fulltime, the score was 26-26. Which means: overtime. I cannot remember the last time I saw a handball game go into overtime. Ten years ago? That wouldn't be an exaggerated estimation.
The final score was 32-31. This is why I love handball so damn much: Anything can happen! We were three goals behind with five minutes left of the regular game time. It's not impossible to catch up, but it's rare. But Ola Lindgren took one of his magical timeouts (not kidding, shit always happens after he does that) and BAM. No goals were let in (Henrik Nordlander in the goal, only nineteen years old), and all our shots went in.
Nothing's set in stone. To win the semi-finals, and advance to the final, you have to win three out of five games. The score is currenly 1-1. But I'm so friggin' happy about this. Not only because it boosts the guys' confidence (it's not easy going up to Eskilstuna, the score being 0-2...), but also because everyone in Eskilstuna was so damn cocky, saying they'll beat us easy in three games straight. Suck it, bitches!
I'm also happy to announce that it was a pretty fair game. In terms of injuries, anyway. I was really scared that there would be blood. But no. Even though no one cares, I'll probably post pictures tomorrow or the day after. Dad brought the camera (and completely humiliated me by snapping pictures as I hugged my friends. Poor boys...)
(*This is a big deal because I've always had a gap between my front teeth and now it's gone. It's not about appearance - it's not that noticable, I'm still me - but it feels weird. It's like my teeth are rubbing against each other, and it's uncomfortable.)