Galaxy midfielder David Beckham shares his stories of Al Pacino and Jack Nicholson.
Greetings, from the most environmentally friendly Tim Stillman Column yet, powered as it is
entirely by the smug sense of satisfaction I get from watching John Terry's putrid goblin face
eating turf. Perhaps it's about time those odious Chav cunts stopped singing about mowing the
meadow and actually started doing it, so that their abomination of a captain wouldn't have to get
down on all fours and do it with his teeth.
Down, yes. But out? Certainly not.
A game of inches
In re-watching the match last night, I was reminded of Al Pacino's memorable halftime speech
from the movie Any Given Sunday. Inches, he said, were the difference between winning and losing.
Between living and dying.
