Football Scores Quotes

THE FIRST TEN LIES THEY TELL YOU IN HIGH SCHOOL 1. We are here to help you. 2. You will have time to get to your class before the bell rings. 3. The dress code will be enforced. 4. No smoking is allowed on school grounds. 5. Our football team will win the championship this year. 6. We expect more of you here. 7. Guidance counselors are always available to listen. 8. Your schedule was created with you in mind. 9. Your locker combination is private. 10. These will be the years you look back on fondly. TEN MORE LIES THEY TELL YOU IN HIGH SCHOOL 1. You will use algebra in your adult lives. 2. Driving to school is a privilege that can be taken away. 3. Students must stay on campus during lunch. 4. The new text books will arrive any day now. 5. Colleges care more about you than your SAT scores. 6. We are enforcing the dress code. 7. We will figure out how to turn off the heat soon. 8. Our bus drivers are highly trained professionals. 9. There is nothing wrong with summer school. 10. We want to hear what you have to say.

I have always, essentially, been waiting. Waiting to become something else, waiting to be that person I always thought I was on the verge of becoming, waiting for that life I thought I would have. In my head, I was always one step away. In high school, I was biding my time until I could become the college version of myself, the one my mind could see so clearly. In college, the post-college “adult” person was always looming in front of me, smarter, stronger, more organized. Then the married person, then the person I’d become when we have kids. For twenty years, literally, I have waited to become the thin version of myself, because that’s when life will really begin. And through all that waiting, here I am. My life is passing, day by day, and I am waiting for it to start. I am waiting for that time, that person, that event when my life will finally begin. I love movies about “The Big Moment” – the game or the performance or the wedding day or the record deal, the stories that split time with that key event, and everything is reframed, before it and after it, because it has changed everything. I have always wanted this movie-worthy event, something that will change everything and grab me out of this waiting game into the whirlwind in front of me. I cry and cry at these movies, because I am still waiting for my own big moment. I had visions of life as an adventure, a thing to be celebrated and experienced, but all I was doing was going to work and coming home, and that wasn’t what it looked like in the movies. John Lennon once said, “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” For me, life is what was happening while I was busy waiting for my big moment. I was ready for it and believed that the rest of my life would fade into the background, and that my big moment would carry me through life like a lifeboat. The Big Moment, unfortunately, is an urban myth. Some people have them, in a sense, when they win the Heisman or become the next American Idol. But even that football player or that singer is living a life made up of more than that one moment. Life is a collection of a million, billion moments, tiny little moments and choices, like a handful of luminous, glowing pearl. It takes so much time, and so much work, and those beads and moments are so small, and so much less fabulous and dramatic than the movies. But this is what I’m finding, in glimpses and flashes: this is it. This is it, in the best possible way. That thing I’m waiting for, that adventure, that move-score-worthy experience unfolding gracefully. This is it. Normal, daily life ticking by on our streets and sidewalks, in our houses and apartments, in our beds and at our dinner tables, in our dreams and prayers and fights and secrets – this pedestrian life is the most precious thing any of use will ever experience.

You might score some touchdowns on the football field, but you can forget about getting into Claire’s end zone”. -Payton from Going Under

Yes, yes, I know all the jokes. What else could I have expected at Highbury? But I went to Chelsea and to Tottenham and to Rangers, and saw the same thing: that the natural state of a football fan is bitter disappointment, no matter what the score.

There’s a quote from Stalin,” he says. “‘A single death is a tragedy; a million is a statistic.’ Can you imagine seven billion of anything? I have trouble doing it. It pushes the limits of our ability to comprehend. And that’s exactly why they did it. Like running up the score in football. You played football, right? It isn’t about destroying our capability to fight so much as crushing our will to fight.

When Arthur had been a boy at school, long before the Earth had been demolished, he had used to play football. He had not been at all good at it, and his particular speciality had been scoring own goals in important matches.

When a person pauses in mid-sentence to choose a word, that's the best time to jump in and change the subject! It's like an interception in football! You grab the others guy's idea and run the opposite way with it! The more sentences you complete, the higher your score! The idea is to block the other guy's thoughts and express your own! That's how you win! Conversations aren't contests! Ok, a point for you, but I'm still ahead.

The Stadium Have you ever entered an empty stadium? Try it. Stand in the middle of the field and listen. There is nothing less empty than an empty stadium. There is nothing less mute than stands bereft of spectators. At Wembley, shouts from the 1966 World Cup, which England won, still resound, and if you listen very closely you can hear groans from 1953 when England fell to the Hungarians. Montevideo’s Centenario Stadium sighs with nostalgia for the glory days of Uruguayan soccer. Maracanã is still crying over Brazil’s 1950 World Cup defeat. At Bombonera in Buenos Aires, drums boom from half a century ago. From the depths of Azteca Stadium, you can hear the ceremonial chants of the ancient Mexican ball game. The concrete terraces of Camp Nou in Barcelona speak Catalan, and the stands of San Mamés in Bilbao talk in Basque. In Milan, the ghosts of Giuseppe Meazza scores goals that shake the stadium bearing his name. The final match of the 1974 World Cup, won by Germany, is played day after day and night after night at Munich’s Olympic Stadium. King Fahd Stadium in Saudi Arabia has marble and gold boxes and carpeted stands, but it has no memory or much of anything to say.

Vacate the bench of rest and play the game of the bests. Keep on marching; no more benching!

He once told me, Instead of scoring thirty goals a season, why don't you score twenty-five and help someone else to score fifteen? That way the team's ten goals better off.

I am embarrassed for America. I am sad but ticked off that Americans have let their country deteriorate to the point that the federal government can perpetrate these types of crimes and that people are more concerned over the score of Monday Night Football than the tyranny that exists,

Apocalyptic saucer cults have started to spring up all over America. One small group, which has been receiving messages from outer space via Lake City housewife Mrs. Marian Keech, becomes the subject of a research team led by psychologist Leon Festinger. According to an alien entity named Sananda, the end of the world is due any day and under the most cataclysmic of circumstances. The group meets regularly to discuss the latest predictions from Sananda and the rest of the Space Brothers, all relayed to them by Mrs. Keech. Some members bake cakes in the shape of flying saucers to be consumed during their gatherings while local college football scores are closely debated.

I had a dream about you. We were playing football (soccer), and I just needed to score one goal to win. Of course, one goal was one more than I’d scored so far, so it might be next to impossible. One is certainly next to nothing, but it might also be next to everything. In love, one is also next to nothing—and next to everything, as two is all you need to make eternity.

My companions for the afternoon were affable, welcoming middle-aged men in their late thirties and early forties who simply had no conception of the import of the afternoon for the rest of us. To them it was an afternoon out, a fun thing to do on a Saturday afternoon; if I were to meet them again, they would, I think, be unable to recall the score that afternoon, or the scorer (at half-time they talked office politics), and in a way I envied them their indifference. Perhaps there is an argument that says Cup Final tickets are wasted on the fans, in the way that youth is wasted on the young; these men, who knew just enough about football to get them through the afternoon, actively enjoyed the occasion, its drama and its noise and its momentum, whereas I hated every minute of it, as I hated every Cup Final involving Arsenal.

Stop making excuses for them. … They have eyes! They can see that the toilet paper roll needs changing and the wastebasket is full and that there is no more orange juice and we drink orange juice and orange juice is sold in grocery stores. They’ve trained themselves not to notice things because the less they notice the more we’ll just take care of it for them. They say, you should have told me you wanted my help when we had twelve people coming over for dinner! You should have told me not to sit in front of the computer looking at football scores while you’re running around doing everything by yourself. If you needed my help why didn’t you ask for it? I didn’t know you needed help. It’s madness.

Football Coaches do play football matches; their attitudes toward the game in times of tendencies of losing can cause a change in the scores of the games they monitor and mentor!

Asking for help didn’t bother him. He’d learned team-playing on the football field. It didn’t matter who scored any one point; everyone worked together to make the team win.

The only time I'll be caught dancing is in the end zone after scoring a touchdown.

If your football team fails to score, you can’t just change their kit and expect to play again

If you want to strike, strike now. No matter how skillfully a footballer strikes beyond the 90 minutes' regulated time, he makes no influence. Strike now before it becomes too late!

I turned on the jets. I'm pretty fast when I'm either scared or I think I might score the first touchdown of my football career. When you put the two together I'm regular Usain Bolt.

During the game, we find endless ways of saying that our team needs to score goals while at the same time not letting any in: ‘We need a goal here,’ ‘We don’t want to let one in now,’ and so on. (‘Here’ and ‘now’ are the words intended to indicate a keen understanding of the complex nature of the particular game, but in truth they mean nothing. Teams always need to score, and never want to let one in.)

Manchester City striker Mario Balotelli sets his own house on fire, apparently after letting off fireworks in his bathroom. Two days later City beat United 6–1, and after scoring the first goal Balotelli revealed a T-shirt bearing the question ‘Why always me?’ This was presumably intended to be rhetorical, but Cheshire Fire and Rescue service, who were at Balotelli’s house until 2.45 a.m., could presumably have provided an answer.

I observed that when a footballer is about to make a threatening strike to score a goal, there comes a big shout from spectators at the field. He could either get detracted to miss the opportunity or motivated to make it happen. Such is life!

After four years of playing [the school fight song] for every pep rally, at the start of every half of every football game, after every score, at the end of the game, and at random times when the team needed a boost, it was forever drilled into my psyche.

She was the only girl he had ever loved. It ended abruptly when she ditched him for a football player. He carried the wounds for six years until he caught her and killed her. Only then had his pain suddenly vanished, his broken heart was healed. The score was even.

The real direction of your vision is as important as your vision. Notwithstanding how large the goal post might be, the power behind your shots least matter as its direction, for it is more of the direction that will determine the goals you shall score and the final score in the end

When the football is handed to the ball carrier, everyone counts on that guy gaining a down or getting into the end zone, and when he does the crowd goes wild. But those who carry another’s burden, by helping out a weak or injured brother or sister, make a real difference and score points with God.

Back in fifth year when Connell had scored a goal for the school football team, Rob had leaped onto the pitch to embrace him. He screamed Connell’s name, and began to kiss his head with wild exuberant kisses. It was only one-all, and there were still twenty minutes left on the clock. But that was their world then. Their feelings were suppressed so carefully in everyday life, forced into smaller and smaller spaces, until seemingly minor events took on insane and frightening significance. It was permissible to touch each other and cry during football matches. Connell still remembers the too-hard grip of his arms.

EVERY WEDNESDAY, I teach an introductory fiction workshop at Harvard University, and on the first day of class I pass out a bullet-pointed list of things the students should try hard to avoid. Don’t start a story with an alarm clock going off. Don’t end a story with the whole shebang having been a suicide note. Don’t use flashy dialogue tags like intoned or queried or, God forbid, ejaculated. Twelve unbearably gifted students are sitting around the table, and they appreciate having such perimeters established. With each variable the list isolates, their imaginations soar higher. They smile and nod. The mood in the room is congenial, almost festive with learning. I feel like a very effective teacher; I can practically hear my course-evaluation scores hitting the roof. Then, when the students reach the last point on the list, the mood shifts. Some of them squint at the words as if their vision has gone blurry; others ask their neighbors for clarification. The neighbor will shake her head, looking pale and dejected, as if the last point confirms that she should have opted for that aseptic-surgery class where you operate on a fetal pig. The last point is: Don’t Write What You Know. The idea panics them for two reasons. First, like all writers, the students have been encouraged, explicitly or implicitly, for as long as they can remember, to write what they know, so the prospect of abandoning that approach now is disorienting. Second, they know an awful lot. In recent workshops, my students have included Iraq War veterans, professional athletes, a minister, a circus clown, a woman with a pet miniature elephant, and gobs of certified geniuses. They are endlessly interesting people, their lives brimming with uniquely compelling experiences, and too often they believe those experiences are what equip them to be writers. Encouraging them not to write what they know sounds as wrongheaded as a football coach telling a quarterback with a bazooka of a right arm to ride the bench. For them, the advice is confusing and heartbreaking, maybe even insulting. For me, it’s the difference between fiction that matters only to those who know the author and fiction that, well, matters.

You know, when I was a kid they had real football players. They wore leather helmets and didn’t have bi-weeks. What kind of a sissy athlete needs a week off in the middle of the season?” “When you were a kid, they kept score by chiseling X marks into stone.” I tossed a jersey to Grouper. Next week was a designated throwback week, when the team wore replica uniforms from years back. I’d ordered an extra for Grouper III. “Tell Guppy I signed it with a washable marker this time. Don’t want his mother getting another smelly-boy call from the school.” Grouper held it up and sighed nostalgically. “I remember this uniform. This was from the non-pussy-player period.” “Bite me, old man.

one thing my own marriage taught me is that relationships are like football in a lot of ways. It’s a team sport and you have to work together to be successful. There are highs and lows, good plays and bad calls, and if you’re going to step out on the field, you need to be ready to play the game. Big mistakes get you benched, and, depending on how bad you screwed up, they can cost you a fortune before you’re allowed back on the playing field. There will always be rivals, people trying to knock you out of the game, but if you’re lucky, you’ll end up with a nice ring to show for your hard work. But it’s not over there, you know. That’s when it really starts, because for the rest of your life you’ll be trying to prove to everyone that you, out of everyone, deserved to be given that ring.” He paused, snickering to himself. “That’s not the biggest way relationships are like football, though. No matter what you do, no matter what happens, the point of both is to score as much as you can. Without scoring, the entire thing is really just a waste of time.

How responsible are you with what you are given? Are you the per- son who, when asked to do a job, can be counted on to get it done and get it done right? Don’t settle for just a field goal in life. Make the push for the last six inches and score a touchdown. Faithfulness, hard work, and dedication will gain the trust of others and take you further down the field.

What impressed me most was just how much most of the men around me hated, really hated, being there. As far as I could tell, nobody seemed to enjoy, in the way that I understood the word, anything that happened during the entire afternoon. Within minutes of the kick-off there was real anger (‘You’re a DISGRACE, Gould. He’s a DISGRACE!’ ‘A hundred quid a week? A HUNDRED QUID A WEEK! They should give that to me for watching you.’); as the game went on, the anger turned into outrage, and then seemed to curdle into sullen, silent discontent. Yes, yes, I know all the jokes. What else could I have expected at Highbury? But I went to Chelsea and to Tottenham and to Rangers, and saw the same thing: that the natural state of the football fan is bitter disappointment, no matter what the score.

The eccentric passion of Shankly was underlined for me by my England team-mate Roger Hunt's version of the classic tale of the Liverpool manager's pre-game talk before playing Manchester United. The story has probably been told a thousand times in and out of football, and each time you hear it there are different details, but when Roger told it the occasion was still fresh in his mind and I've always believed it to be the definitive account. It was later on the same day, as Roger and I travelled together to report for England duty, after we had played our bruising match at Anfield. Ian St John had scored the winner, then squared up to Denis Law, with Nobby finally sealing the mood of the afternoon by giving the Kop the 'V' sign. After settling down in our railway carriage, Roger said, 'You may have lost today, but you would have been pleased with yourself before the game. Shanks mentioned you in the team talk. When he says anything positive about the opposition, normally he never singles out players.' According to Roger, Shankly burst into the dressing room in his usual aggressive style and said, 'We're playing Manchester United this afternoon, and really it's an insult that we have to let them on to our field because we are superior to them in every department, but they are in the league so I suppose we have to play them. In goal Dunne is hopeless- he never knows where he is going. At right back Brennan is a straw- any wind will blow him over. Foulkes the centre half kicks the ball anywhere. On the left Tony Dunne is fast but he only has one foot. Crerand couldn't beat a tortoise. It's true David Herd has got a fantastic shot, but if Ronnie Yeats can point him in the right direction he's likely to score for us. So there you are, Manchester United, useless...' Apparently it was at this point the Liverpool winger Ian Callaghan, who was never known to whisper a single word on such occasions, asked, 'What about Best, Law and Charlton, boss?' Shankly paused, narrowed his eyes, and said, 'What are you saying to me, Callaghan? I hope you're not saying we cannot play three men.

Lehigh caught on, but still couldn’t stop the drive. By the time Carlisle neared the Lehigh goal line, both teams were cracking up. As Carlisle bashed in for another score, lineman William Garlow entertained the defense with his running commentary. “Gentlemen, this hurts me as much as it does you, but I’m afraid the ball is over. We regret it, I am sure you regret it, and I hope nothing happening here will spoil what for us has been a very pleasant afternoon.” Fans in the stands, who couldn’t hear Garlow, had no idea why players who’d just surrendered a touchdown were doubled over with laughter.

I’m Danny Wexler and this is Channel Five sports! The [Undisclosed] football team has been raped in the ass by fate once again, booted from the first round of the playoffs as they failed to carry their inflatable turd past a chalk line in the grass as often as their opponents did. Here’s Hornets quarterback Mikey Wolford, flopping that right arm around like a retard while he tries to pass to a teammate that apparently only he can see. Aaaaand, it’s intercepted. Nice pass, ’tard! Now here’s Spartans fullback Derrick Simpson, pumping those nigger thighs down the field like pistons on a machine designed for cotton picking. Ooh, nice tackle attempt there, Freddy Mason! I bet you could tackle that fullback if he was made of dick, couldn’t you, Freddy? But, he’s not, so final score, forty-one to seventeen. May every Spartan die with a turd on his lips. All hail Korrok.

Melinda was still stuck on the 24 thing. “And I don’t see you grabbing the remote away from me when that countdown clock starts chiming,” she said to Pete. “Unless it’s to get a quick check of the scores on Monday nights.” Nick’s ears perked up at the mention of scores. Sports. Now there was a topic upon which he could wax poetic. “Too bad Monday night football is over,” he lamented to Pete. “But there’s always basketball. Who are you eying for the Final Four?” Pete looked mildly embarrassed as he gestured to Melinda. “She’s, um, referring to the scores on Dancing with the Stars.” “He likes it when they do the paso doblé,” Melinda threw in. “The dance symbolizes the drama, artistry, and passion of a bullfight. It’s quite masculine,” Pete said. “Except for the sequins and spray tans,” Melinda added. Pete clapped his hands together, ignoring this. “How about you, Nick? Are you a fan of the reality television performing arts?

Lionel Messi (32), who plays for FC Barcelona in the Spanish football league, has recorded his 50th hat-trick. The team also won. Messi made his first hat-trick as a left-handed striker in the 25th round of the away game against Spain in the 2018-2019 Primera División at the Ramon Sánchez Pisjuan Stadium in Seville, Spain. Messi's 50th hat-trick. He wrote 44 hits in Barcelona and 6 hits in Argentina. The start of the game was not good. In the 22nd minute Messi's passing mistake led to a counterattack in Seville. He scored a goal for Navas and Barcelona were 0-1. Four minutes later Messi scored a fantastic goal. On the left side, Ivan Rakitić's cross came up with a direct volley shooting. It was stuck in the left corner of the goal correctly. In the second half of the second half of the match, he managed to take a right-footed shot from the front of Arc Circle, Goalkeeper Thomas Bachlick reached out his hand but he was blind. 텔레【KC98K】카톡【ACD5】라인【SPR331】 ♥100%정품보장 ♥총알배송 ♥투명한 가격 ♥편한 상담 ♥끝내주는 서비스 ♥고객님 정보 보호 ♥깔끔한 거래 ◀경영항목▶ 수면제,여성-최음제,,여성흥분제,남성발기부전치유제,비아그라,시알리스,88정,드래곤,99정,바오메이,정력제,남성성기확대제,카마-그라젤,비닉스,센돔,꽃물,남성-조-루제,네노마정 등많은제품 판매중입니다 센돔 판매,센돔 구입방법,센돔 구매방법,센돔 효과,센돔 처방,센돔 파는곳,센돔 지속시간,센돔 구입,센돔 구매,센돔 복용법 In the 39th minute of the second half, Carlos Alenya's shot was deflected and deflected, and Messi broke into the box with a penalty box. Messi helped Luis Suárez score just before the end of the game and made four goals on the day. The team had a pleasant 4-2 victory and solidified the league with 57 points (17 wins, 6 draws, 2 losses). Madrid, who have been at the top of the table for the last time.

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At Crusty House, in a four-hundred-metre race, it was always possible to determine who could run better than everyone else. And pretty often in football, you could say that one pass was better than another. But it was actually less common that you might imagine. And mainly in straightforward situations offering very few openings. In Biehl's classes it was obvious when an answer was correct. With Karin Äre things were a little less clear-cut but, on the whole, there was never any serious doubt as to who sang true enough to be in the choir. One has to be left with the impression that this things about assessing the merit of a person's singing on answers or football was something straightforward, something strictly regulated. But in all of these instances an answer did, already, exist. That you had to score, or remember a particular date or sing true or run a distance under a certain time. There was a clearly defined quadrangle of knowledge -- like a chessboard, like a football pitch. So it was pretty easy to see what was correct and what was wrong, when one thing was better or worse than another. But if it became just a little bit more complicated, as at the opening of an attack, or in midfield, then you could no longer be sure what the answer would be. As with August's drawing. You would think, in that case, that it would have to be almost impossible -- after all, it was his. How could an answer already exist as to how it should be?

How can you try to score a touchdown but don't take time to study? How can you expect God to lead you in the right direction of your life if you don't put in the necessary time with Him? Too many marriages end in divorce because someone wasn't dedicated to learning their Playbook.

Catenaccio is like a Titian painting – soft, seductive and languid. The Italians welcome and lull you and seduce you into their soft embrace, and score a goal like the thrust of a dagger.

Still, even after the black winger John Barnes scored his solo goal to beat Brazil in Rio in 1984, the Football Association’s chairman was harangued by England fans on the flight back home: “You fucking wanker, you prefer sambos to us.

A journalist watched this final in a Cologne pub that was frequented by both Germans and Englishmen. ‘It was weird,’ he later said. ‘The Germans all rooted for Manchester, the English were all urging Bayern on!’ It was natural, not weird, as Bayern were still as unloved in their own country as Manchester United were in theirs. But the instant Ole Gunnar Solskjaer scored the winner, the mood changed. It seemed too cruel to lose a match under such circumstances, even if the losers were Bayern. Also, after winning three European Cup finals they should have lost, the once lucky Bayern had now lost three they should have won. Hitzfeld took defeat in his stride, and the image of this gentlemanly coach congratulating Ferguson despite being hit so hard altered the picture some people had of Bayern as a club of cold egotists.

That day, two dangerous men sat, had a beer, and discussed the latest football scores.

Johan Cruyff, explaining his profound aestheticism, once said that he preferred to hear the noise of the ball striking the post to scoring a goal.

Maradona Diego (Armando) (b.1960), Argentinian footballer. He captained the Argentina team that won the World Cup in 1986, arousing controversy when his apparent handball scored a goal in the quarter-final match against England.

TRENT ALEXANDER-ARNOLD’S FREE KICK TECHNIQUE STEP 1: First things first, you’ll need to win a free kick in a good shooting position. If your attacking teammates aren’t up to the job, then fly forward to win one yourself. STEP 2: As soon as the referee blows the whistle, race over and grab the ball. This one’s yours. And after you’ve scored a few beauties, no-one will argue anymore. STEP 3: Place the ball down carefully and then start your routine: three steps backwards, pause, then one step to the right. You’re in the zone now. STEP 4: While you wait for the whistle, take a deep breath and look up at the target. In your head, imagine the ball flying into the corner of the net. Right, time to make it a reality… STEP 5: Take short steps towards the ball and then swing that right leg back, ready to strike… STEP 6: BANG! Put plenty of whip on your shot to send it up over the jumping wall and then down into the bottom corner. STEP 7: GOAL! Kiss the badge on your shirt as you race over to celebrate with the fans. You’re a local legend now!

John Patrick “Pat” McInally found fame in his native Usa as a punter and wide receiver for the National Football League’s Cincinnati bengals from 1976 to 1985. a Harvard graduate, he remains the only footballer to have achieved a verified perfect score on the Wonderlic Test, the intelligence test given to prospective players by the NFL.

The league match ended in a tense 1-1 draw, which kept Barcelona eight points clear at the top. Lionel scored a penalty and then with ten minutes to go, Cristiano scored a penalty. Messi 1 Ronaldo 1. ‘Anything you do, Ronaldo does too!’ Andrés said with a big smile on his face. Lionel’s teammates loved to tease him about his Ballon d’Or rival. They needed their star to be at his very best. In the Copa del Rey final, Lionel was desperate to be the matchwinner. He tried dropping deep, he tried moving out to the wing but nothing worked. Wherever he went, he was surrounded by defenders. Then in extra time, Cristiano scored to give Real the victory. Messi 1 Ronaldo 2. Lionel was furious. He always hated losing but losing against Ronaldo and Real Madrid was the worst feeling ever. ‘What are we going to do?’ he asked his teammates. ‘We have to win the Champions League semi-final now!

a story while working for the BBC World Service when he was kicked out of the 1994 World Cup: several hundred people in Bangladesh had attempted mass suicide as a result. It is impossible to overestimate the scope and intensity of Maradona’s popularity, and the range of sometimes contradictory emotions he evokes. Nowhere more so than in Argentina, where his place in the collective national psyche is worthy of lengthy volumes of analysis. From god to political manoeuvre, from saint to machiavellian drug abuser, from villain to victim and back, every possible interpretation has been covered some-where along the line. Even in England Maradona stirs extreme reactions. Despite the bitter aftertaste left behind by his hand-ball in 1986, the general public continues to vote the second goal in the same match the best ever scored in a World Cup. When FIFA recently decided to name the best footballer ever they had to hand out two awards; one for officialdom's

The fixer is less concerned with atmosphere and empathy. They are there to get the job done. Like the defender in football, they can anticipate danger, stop the opposition from attacking and prevent goals being scored.

Paul Scholes, one of Manchester United’s greatest midfielders, was described by Zinedine Zidane, himself no slouch, as the ‘complete footballer’. Despite some unforgettable goals, Scholes the fiery Red is remembered for his completeness: protecting his defence, providing ideas and cover for his fellow midfielders, and producing opportunities for his wingers and strikers. Even when, unnoticed, he did pop up to score with a spectacular shot, he blushed profusely when bathed in adulation for it. Recognition positively embarrassed Scholes. He preferred quietly to contribute 90 minutes of blood, sweat and opportunities for others. Harry S. Truman had it right: ‘It is amazing what you can accomplish if you do not care who gets the credit.

Every year millions of American men buy televisions in order to watch football. The various companies that produce TVs are aware of this, and try to run advertisements for their contraptions that feature games. Unfortunately, the NFL only sells footage to its official television company. That means if, say, Zenith is the NFL’s TV of choice, Panasonic, Sony, and myriad other entities can’t use league action. “So every year—every single year—I get calls from the companies, wanting to purchase USFL stock footage,” Cohen said. “I averaged about $100,000 a year for a long time. Dom was right.” Don’t blink, or you might miss ubiquitous snippets of USFL game footage. That game Julie Taylor was watching in the student lounge on Friday Night Lights? Blitz-Bandits at Tampa Stadium. The “Bubble Bowl” game in the SpongeBob SquarePants episode “Band Geeks”? Bandits-Showboats at the Liberty Bowl. A Scientology advertisement stars Anthony Carter scoring a touchdown for the Panthers; Russ Feingold, a United States senator running for reelection in 2010, ran a spot with Gamblers receivers Clarence Verdin and Gerald McNeil dancing in the end zone;

I like to think of myself as roughneck scribe of rugged cut and poetic intent, but right now that is difficult as I am typing up this column in the middle seat of a minivan en route to a high school volleyball game where I will be just another bald dad thinking, “Wow that popcorn smells good,” and perhaps peeking at my phone to check the score of the football game.

A football player must not complain about obstacles. Blocking you from scoring is your opponents’ dharma. Blocking your opponents from scoring is your dharma. Those who succeed in breaking opponents’ dharma wins ultimately.

In football, the winner is always one who scores more goals by evading all obstacles. If you complain about obstacles in football, you will only get time to appeal.

Except apparently Gabriel thought differently. “I don’t want you to be nice to him.” Jared blinked. “What?” Gabriel turned onto his back, his lips pursed into an unhappy line. “Didn’t you notice how sweet he is with you? I know him. He’s never sweet without a reason.” Jared suppressed a sigh. He could see where this was going. Gabriel was very possessive of his things. He didn’t talk much about his early childhood in Ukraine—he claimed that he didn’t remember—but Jared could make an educated guess. Ukrainian orphanages couldn’t have been nice places to live. As a child, Gabriel hadn’t had much, so it was only natural he had grown accustomed to jealously guarding what little he had. It didn’t matter that Gabriel was no longer a child and could afford anything he wanted; he had never quite outgrown his possessiveness. Everyone knew that Gabriel DuVal was very bad at sharing. It was obvious on the football pitch, too: he was often selfish and ruthless, wanting to be the one to score all the goals. For that reason he was the favorite target of the media’s scathing criticism, universally hated and reluctantly admired.

Neely Thomas was used to losing. Compulsive gamblers learn how to handle it—his kids' college funds depleted, an ultimatum from his wife, his life near bottom—he was ready to unravel. But then a moment's inattention—checking the football scores instead of keeping his eyes on the road—and a traffic accident leaves an innocent boy dead. Now suddenly Neely can't stop winning. The punishment for his crime? How bad could this be? A winning streak so relentless it won't end until his lies are exposed and he's lost everything he loves.

Scores give better decision than judges.

I was just thinking about how our lives are like football games. We go along with our day-to-day activities as if we have unlimited tomorrows. Then, one day, our time is up. In football, each team plays the first fifty-eight minutes like the game will last forever. The trailing team figures it has plenty of time to score. Then something happens to change everything: The two-minute warning sounds. Suddenly, the team that's behind accomplishes things it couldn't begin to do for the first fifty-eight minutes. It complete spectacular passes, kicks long field goals, makes terrific runs--and maybe even wins. Why does the team wait until the last two minutes to play this way? Why not do it the whole game? It's the same with our lives. We just plod along figuring we've got an unlimited time to achieve our goals. Why not pretend our two-minute warning has sounded, and then live accordingly? (P. 134)

There still weren’t enough warm bodies in the area to meet demand. So companies went to extreme measures: three 12-hour-day workweeks, promises of extended holidays, biplanes towing employment ads over Stanford football games, bonuses to employees who brought in friends, open houses in which job offers were made on the spot

New York’s attack, dubbed “The Gang That Couldn’t Shoot Straight” by Sports Illustrated’s Jack McCallum, was the NBA’s most predictable. “Windshield wipers offer more variety than the Knicks’ offense,” mused New York magazine writer Chris Smith. For many years, their possessions often went something like this: a guard would dribble down to the wing and dump an entry pass into Ewing on the block. The center, forced to deal with the spacing of a crowded Twister mat, would turn and face the basket, deciding instantly whether he had enough time to get off a shot before a second and third defender could swarm. If he didn’t have a good look, he would kick the ball out to reset the offense, or, in what was often a victory for the defense, set up a wide-open perimeter try for a shooting-deficient teammate. “If this were football, every time [his teammates] shoot, they’d be accused of intentional grounding,” New York Post columnist Peter Vecsey wrote. Every now and then, there was a pick-and-roll mixed in, or a cross screen to shake things up. When the universe allowed, a Ewing kick-out would lead to a made jumper by one of the guards. But even when players misfired, Ewing was often there to corral the miss, then gracefully put it back for a score. If his teammates were leaving messes, the 7-footer was the Bounty paper towel cleaning up after them.

He nearly scored the equaliser and he set you up too! “Shame you couldn’t score when we needed you to.” Surprised by Joe’s tone, Adam instinctively took a step back. Joe, by now, had become red-faced with anger and the thug was very wary of the big burly goalkeeper. Lee, a small lad with brown spiky hair and a missing front tooth, sneakily moved around Joe and began poking fun at Charlie’s filthy strip. “Ha. “Old Charles has pooed his pants after missing that sitter! “Look at the state of his kit!” Several of the team sniggered at Lee’s childish taunt. Charlie blushed at the pathetic insult but still remained silent. He had spent years being taunted by Adam and the pack of schoolyard bullies. He had always preferred to keep quiet rather than risk making them angry – and face further public humiliation. He couldn’t wait to start senior school in the autumn and get away from this bunch of idiots for good. Joe, though, wouldn’t let it drop. He grabbed Lee’s shirt and pushed him roughly away.

In soccer, scoring a goal or saving one owes as much to skill as to luck.

The way I identified with Wu-Wei was through football. You often hear athletes talking about being “in the zone”—a state of unself-conscious concentration. In the World Cup, when England inevitably end up in a quarterfinal penalty shoot-out, I believe it is their inability to access Wu-Wei that means the Germans win. (This was written prior to the 2014 World Cup, so my assumption that England would reach the quarterfinal has been exposed as hopelessly optimistic, but, look, I correctly predicted a German victory.) If you are in a stadium with 80,000 screaming supporters and the hopes of a nation resting on the outcome of a penalty kick, you need to be focused, you need at that moment to be in a state of mind which is the result of great preparation but has total fluidity. Kind of like a self-induced trance where the body is free to act upon its training without the encumbrance of a neurotic mind. Stood in front of the keeper, the ball on the spot, you need to have access to all the preparation that has gone into perfecting the kick that will place the ball in the top right corner of the net. You cannot be thinking, “Oh, God, if I miss this they’ll burn effigies of me in Essex,” or “I think my wife is fucking another member of the team,” “My dad never loved me; I don’t deserve to score.”—those mental codes are an obstacle to success. I once was a guest on Match of the Day, a British Premier League football-analysis show; before it began, I hung out with the host, ex-England hero Gary Lineker and pundit, and another ex-England hero, Alan Shearer. I chatted to the two men about their lives as top-level athletes and they both agreed that the most important component in their success had been mental strength, the ability to focus the mind, literally, in their case, on the goal, excluding all irrelevant, negative, or distracting information. Both of those men have a quality that you can feel in their presence of focus and assuredness. Lineker is more superficially affable and Shearer more stern, but there is a shared certainty and connectedness to their physicality that is interesting.

Horseball This English-style team sport is like polo, football, and basketball all in one. It is a fast, mounted competition where a ball is carried by hand and shot through a high net to score points. During the competition, riders use the weight of their horses to shove their opponents out of the playing area without unseating themselves.

Don’t you worry about your aunt. She’s proud as hell of you. But you’re only holding yourself back when you blow up like that. So let’s give her something else to be proud about. Yeah?” She sighed. Then nodded again. “Yeah. Okay. But I get to swear when we watch football?” “Damn right you do,” Knox said, ruffling her hair. “And when I’m not in school anymore?” “You can swear as much as you fucking want after you’re out of college. Maybe grad school too, if you want a PhD or some shit.” The corner of her mouth lifted. “That’s better,” he said. “Now, get your ass out there and put the ball in the back of the net so we can get ice cream after.” “But it’s morning,” she said, again looking at me as if I were some anti-swearing, anti-ice cream monster. “No better time for ice cream than after a big win,” he assured her. She grinned up at him. “Okay. Thanks, Knox. Sorry, Aunt Naomi.

When it comes to telling people what you expect from them, don’t be subtle, don’t be coy, don’t be vague. What is your version of, “Gentlemen, this is a football”?

You’ve got a temper, but there’s a hell of a lot more power in controlling it than letting it fly. Use it, or it’ll use you. You get me?” She nodded solemnly. “I think so. When can I swear?” “When you and me are watching football.

We plan to get shitfaced tonight so bye Noah.” Kim announces then follows after me, shuts the door and locks it after us. “Everything alright?” I question her as we go up the narrow stairway, lit by a low soft glowing light. It’s not creepy but it is strange. “Raea, what part of tonight has been alright?” She questions. “Uh.” I pretend to think about it, all the while doing my best to ignore the twisting in my chest and Denise’s evil laugh that still rings in my ears. “The part where we scored those free hotdogs during the game?” I question, throwing my head back as I take another swig of the Jack. “Those were pretty good hotdogs for a football game. But then again, nothing but the best for Westbrook Blues.” Nothing but the best indeed. The best estates. The best secrets. The best lies. The best betrayal. Westbrook wins them all.

Even at such a young age, I knew what joy felt like because life as a child is littered with moments of joy: waking up on Christmas Day, unwrapping birthday presents, returning from the newsagents with a paper bag full of sweets, watching cartoons, scoring a goal in a playground football match. Life had so much joy back then.

intense and focused on the field, the entire stadium goes quiet as he rears back to throw the long pass. The football world calls it The Calm Before the Score. “Did you hear that, Tessa?” I snap out of the catatonic state I’d fallen into and force my hand to move as if the news hadn’t affected me in the least. “Riggs Malone is coming home,” John says, narrowing his pale blue eyes at me. “You went to high school with him, right?” “I think so,” I say, my tone nonchalant

Had Garnacho’s magnificent goal against Everton been scored on home ground, the stadium would have exploded. Rather, Goodison Park, the venue of the match, received the goal with graveyard silence. In the eyes of haters the diamond in your hand looks like the ordinary stone.

Had Garnacho’s magnificent goal against Everton been scored on home ground, the stadium would have exploded. In the eyes of haters the diamond in your hand looks like the ordinary stone.

Had Garnacho’s magnificent goal against Everton been scored on home ground, the stadium would have exploded. Rather Goodison Park, the venue of the match, received the goal with graveyard silence. In the eyes of haters the diamond in your hand looks like the ordinary stone.

She sits on the other end of the sofa from Walter and stares numbly at the football. She hates the sound of football—the dull bass monotone of male calls, the incessant up and down intonation of the commentators, the whistles and the drums; it sounds like the backdrop to a nightmare, an oncoming army of bloodless killers. It’s been the soundtrack of her weekends for twenty-seven years, since she first moved into Walter’s flat. She’d watched with him in the early years, professed her enthusiasm for the game, shouted when their team scored, pretended to be devastated when they lost. Although, no, not pretended. It had been real, at the time. Everything she thought, did, wanted, cared about back then had been through the filter of Walter. All she had wanted, from the moment they first got together, was to please him, to be the person he thought she was, to be his dream come true.

Running a football franchise is not unlike running any other business: You start first with a structural format and basic philosophy and then find the people who can implement it. —BILL WALSH

Kicking a field goal, worth 3 points, can be difficult if the ball is far from the uprights. If the offense punts the ball, they are giving the other team a chance to play offense and score points. After halftime, the ball is kicked off again. It is kicked by the opposite team that kicked at the start of the game. This makes sure that no matter what happens, each team is given a chance to have the ball on offense.  

Unlike basketball, baseball, or football, games that reset after each play, soccer unfolds fluidly and continuously. To understand how a goal was scored, you have to work back through the action - the sequences of passes and decisions, the movement of the players away from the action who reappear unexpectedly in empty space to create or waste opportunities - all the way back to the first touch. If that goal was scored by a young refugee from Liberia, off an assist from a boy from southern Sudan, who was set up by a player from Burundi or a Kurd from Iraq - on a field in Georgia, U.S.A., no less - understanding its origins would mean following the thread of causation back in time to events that long preceded the first whistle.

The ultimate space-measurer in Dutch football is of course, Johan Cruyff. He was only seventeen when he first played at Ajax, yet even then he delivered running commentaries on the use of space to the rest of the team, telling them where to run, where not to run. Players did what the tiny, skinny teenager told them to do because he was right. Cruyff didn't talk about abstract space but about specific, detailed spatial relations on the field. Indeed, the most abiding image of him as a player is not of him scoring or running or tackling. It is of Cruyff pointing. 'No, not there, back a little... forward two metres... four metres more to the left.' He seemed like a conductor directing a symphony orchestra. It was as if Cruyff was helping his colleagues to realize an approximate rendering on the field to match the sublime vision in his mind of how the space ought to be ordered.

In golf, all players play against each other. It is played by striking a ball with a club, trying to get it in a hole in the fewest number of strokes. A hole in one is the best score, when you hit the ball into the hole on the first stroke. While there have been many great players, Tiger Woods is the most known.

American football has a field that measures 120 yards in length that players rush down with a football. The goal is to get a touchdown worth 6 points and to score an extra point by kicking the football over the goal. 3 points can also be scored through a field goal. The Super Bowl is an annual gaming event that draws in high television viewer audiences.

With five players on each team taking the field, the goal is to get the orange basketball in the hoop. Two points are scored for close shots, three points if it is behind the large arc. While popular in the United States, other countries also play this sport. Michael Jordan is the stand out player in this game.

Played in the spring and summer, track and field is a collection of running, jumping and throwing events. The goal is to be the fastest, strongest and most liber player on the field with the best scores and time. Events may include the high jump, long jump, 400 meter dash and even relay events.

Strength and flexibility are requirements for success in this sport. Through a series of jumps, physical tricks and lifts, participants go through a skill based series of events that can vary in difficulty. The goal is to perfectly execute each move with precision and balance to score as close to a perfect score as possible.

Soccer, for the football fanatic, has nothing to do with the quality of the game. Their local team might only score goals from accidental deflections off the butt, but the fans will still pay over fifteen quid to watch those gaffs, simply because it's their team. In fact, technically, their love for their team has nothing to do with soccer, but everything to do with these huge, abstract values — fidelity, passion, love.

Ten months after Jamie’s death, the 2006 football season began. The Colts played peerless football, winning their first nine games, and finishing the year 12–4. They won their first play-off game, and then beat the Baltimore Ravens for the divisional title. At that point, they were one step away from the Super Bowl, playing for the conference championship—the game that Dungy had lost eight times before. The matchup occurred on January 21, 2007, against the New England Patriots, the same team that had snuffed out the Colts’ Super Bowl aspirations twice. The Colts started the game strong, but before the first half ended, they began falling apart. Players were afraid of making mistakes or so eager to get past the final Super Bowl hurdle that they lost track of where they were supposed to be focusing. They stopped relying on their habits and started thinking too much. Sloppy tackling led to turnovers. One of Peyton Manning’s passes was intercepted and returned for a touchdown. Their opponents, the Patriots, pulled ahead 21 to 3. No team in the history of the NFL had ever overcome so big a deficit in a conference championship. Dungy’s team, once again, was going to lose.3.36 At halftime, the team filed into the locker room, and Dungy asked everyone to gather around. The noise from the stadium filtered through the closed doors, but inside everyone was quiet. Dungy looked at his players. They had to believe, he said. “We faced this same situation—against this same team—in 2003,” Dungy told them. In that game, they had come within one yard of winning. One yard. “Get your sword ready because this time we’re going to win. This is our game. It’s our time.”3.37 The Colts came out in the second half and started playing as they had in every preceding game. They stayed focused on their cues and habits. They carefully executed the plays they had spent the past five years practicing until they had become automatic. Their offense, on the opening drive, ground out seventy-six yards over fourteen plays and scored a touchdown. Then, three minutes after taking the next possession, they scored again. As the fourth quarter wound down, the teams traded points. Dungy’s Colts tied the game, but never managed to pull ahead. With 3:49 left in the game, the Patriots scored, putting Dungy’s players at a three-point disadvantage, 34 to 31. The Colts got the ball and began driving down the field. They moved seventy yards in nineteen seconds, and crossed into the end zone. For the first time, the Colts had the lead, 38 to 34. There were now sixty seconds left on the clock. If Dungy’s team could stop the Patriots from scoring a touchdown, the Colts would win. Sixty seconds is an eternity in football.

The Patriots’ quarterback, Tom Brady, had scored touchdowns in far less time. Sure enough, within seconds of the start of play, Brady moved his team halfway down the field. With seventeen seconds remaining, the Patriots were within striking distance, poised for a final big play that would hand Dungy another defeat and crush, yet again, his team’s Super Bowl dreams. As the Patriots approached the line of scrimmage, the Colts’ defense went into their stances. Marlin Jackson, a Colts cornerback, stood ten yards back from the line. He looked at his cues: the width of the gaps between the Patriot linemen and the depth of the running back’s stance. Both told him this was going to be a passing play. Tom Brady, the Patriots’ quarterback, took the snap and dropped back to pass. Jackson was already moving. Brady cocked his arm and heaved the ball. His intended target was a Patriot receiver twenty-two yards away, wide open, near the middle of the field. If the receiver caught the ball, it was likely he could make it close to the end zone or score a touchdown. The football flew through the air. Jackson, the Colts cornerback, was already running at an angle, following his habits. He rushed past the receiver’s right shoulder, cutting in front of him just as the ball arrived. Jackson plucked the ball out of the air for an interception, ran a few more steps and then slid to the ground, hugging the ball to his chest. The whole play had taken less than five seconds. The game was over. Dungy and the Colts had won. Two weeks later, they won the Super Bowl. There are dozens of reasons that might explain why the Colts finally became champions that year. Maybe they got lucky. Maybe it was just their time. But Dungy’s players say it’s because they believed, and because that belief made everything they had learned—all the routines they had practiced until they became automatic—stick, even at the most stressful moments. “We’re proud to have won this championship for our leader, Coach Dungy,” Peyton Manning told the crowd afterward, cradling the Lombardi Trophy. Dungy turned to his wife. “We did it,” he said.

pitch. Guess where it went? Yeah, it sailed into the stands and hit Alice. It broke a bone in her knee! That lady was not having a good day. Deion Sanders is the only person in history to hit a home run in a Major League Baseball game and score a touchdown in the National Football League in the same week! The most valuable baseball card in the world is a Honus Wagner card from 1909–10. In perfect condition, it’s worth more than two million dollars.

MN4, discovered late in 2004 and recently named Apophis, the Greek name for the Egyptian God Apep –the destroyer. At one point, the probability of Apophis striking the Earth on 13 April 2029 was thought to be as high as 1 in 37. Now, to everyone’s relief, those odds have increased to 1 in 8,000. Again, these may sound very long odds, but they are actually only 80 times greater than those offered during summer 2001 for England beating Germany 5–1 at football. A few years ago, scientists came up with an index –known as the Torino Scale –to measure the impact threat, and so far Apophis is the first object to register and sustain a value greater than zero. At present it scores a 1 on the scale –defined as ‘an event meriting careful monitoring’. The object is the focus of considerable attention as efforts continue to better constrain its orbit, and it is perfectly possible –as we find out more –that it could rise to 1 on the Torino Scale, becoming an ‘event meriting concern’. It is very unlikely, however, to go any higher, and let’s hope that many years elapse before we encounter the first category 10 event –defined as ‘a certain collision with global consequences’.

It was a Friday night football game, and the two were strutting victoriously off the field. While Luke’s then-girlfriend Karen jogged up to him for a kiss, for one shining moment, Aldo’s dark gaze had met and held hers. Just like that, late-blooming sophomore Gloria had developed her very first crush.

We gave the people great joy, at a time when a lot of people were experiencing a lot of pain due to the disappearance of a son, of a family member. All of that wasn't our fault. We were trying to make people happy. We played football, which was what we were trying to do the best we could. (Daniel Bertoni)

Imagine playing football where there are four quarters, and you have to score in each quarter to win. Imagine placing more importance on scoring in each quarter than winning the game. Now a great trend trader says, “I might score 28 points in any of the four quarters. I might score at any point in the game, but the object, at the end of the game, is to win.” If a trend following trader scores 28 points in the first quarter and no points in the next three quarters, and wins, who cares when he scored?

Knox said every day with their dad felt like a lie. He’d swear he was sober or promise he’d never use again. He’d commit to picking them up after school or tell them he’d be at their football games. But he just kept letting them down. Over and over again. One lie after another.

Fall had always been my favorite season. New beginnings. Pretty girls in soft sweaters. Football season. Homecoming. Cold nights made warmer with bourbon and bonfires.

Outcome Based Education The first time you read this poem I need you to remember something They do not teach you in school Like Doctor’s, Lawyers, Soldiers, Teachers don’t have an oath, not at all Yet, students aren’t footballs They aren’t The student aren’t born dull or bright Teachers make them that way, a plight Obe comes for rescue to make learning, a delight Yet, is content about Obe too abstract to understand? Is the material about Obe too tough to grasp and comprehend? Do a new way to be adopted to explain and define Obe? Its an easy concept once you agree Outcomes are not scores, averages or grade point Only needs is to look education from a new viewpoint Obe is holistic way of enlightening and empowering learners It is a paradigm shift to make them achievers Obe is what they’ll be able to know and do Skills and knowledge they need to have at debut Course Outcome(CO) is what they’ll know after each course This is the skill they will acquire without any force Program Specific Outcomes(PSO) are specific to program, USPs of department, its hologram What they’ll be able to do at time of graduation accomplishment, achievement, acclamations Program Educational Objectives(PEOs) are the achievements they’ll have in their career Indicates what they’ll achieve and how they perform during first few years Program Outcomes (POs) is what they’ll be able to know and do upon graduation Skills, knowledge and behaviour they’ll acquire, will give their career acceleration. Obe wants all learner to learn and be successful 1 paradigm 2 purpose 3 premises 4 principles 5 Practices of obe makes you accountable ----------------By Dr. Kshitij Shinghal Special thanks to Dr. William Spady and references from his book “ Outcome Based Education: Critical Issues

Outcome Based Education The first time you read this poem I need you to remember something They do not teach you in school Like Doctor’s, Lawyers, Soldiers, Teachers don’t have an oath, not at all Yet, students aren’t footballs They aren’t The student aren’t born dull or bright Teachers make them that way, a plight Obe comes for rescue to make learning, a delight Yet, is content about Obe too abstract to understand? Is the material about Obe too tough to grasp and comprehend? Do a new way to be adopted to explain and define Obe? Its an easy concept once you agree Outcomes are not scores, averages or grade point Only needs is to look education from a new viewpoint Obe is holistic way of enlightening and empowering learners It is a paradigm shift to make them achievers Obe is what they’ll be able to know and do Skills and knowledge they need to have at debut Course Outcome(CO) is what they’ll know after each course This is the skill they will acquire without any force Program Specific Outcomes(PSO) are specific to program, USPs of department, its hologram What they’ll be able to do at time of graduation accomplishment, achievement, acclamations Program Educational Objectives(PEOs) are the achievements they’ll have in their career Indicates what they’ll achieve and how they perform during first few years Program Outcomes (POs) is what they’ll be able to know and do upon graduation Skills, knowledge and behaviour they’ll acquire, will give their career acceleration. Obe wants all learner to learn and be successful 1 paradigm 2 purpose 3 premises 4 principles 5 Practices of obe makes you accountable 1 paradigm what and whether students learn successfully is more important than how and when they learn 2 Purpose maximize condition of success for all students, send fully equipped student into world to make their dreams unfurl 3 Premises All students can succeed and learn maybe not on same day and same way, Success breads success , colleges control condition of success 4 principles clarity of focus on outcomes, expended opportunity to all, high expectation from all, designing curriculum to attain outcome 5 practices define outcome, design curriculum, deliver instruction, document result, determine advancement These are 1 paradigm 2 purpose 3 premises 4 principles 5 Practices for Obe accomplishment ----------------By Dr. Kshitij Shinghal Special thanks to Dr. William Spady and references from his book “ Outcome Based Education: Critical Issues

Go help your dad in the garage.” “Help him with what? He’s watching a football game.” Racer frowned. “Well, he’s old and nearsighted.” “No, he’s not.” “He needs you to read the score for him. Go.