At some point in the history of televised soccer, someone must have used a stranger phrase to describe a goal than “pure animal physics,” but no example springs instantly to mind. What does it mean? How could anyone say it in such a cheerful and satisfied voice, when it sounds euphemistic and horrifying, like some sinister scheme to power a light bulb with a horse? I guess the goal is legendary enough to excuse any amount of bizarre language: so this is Johnny Metgod, smoking angular moonshine for Nottingham Forest against West Ham in 1986, and this is your historical goal of the week.
The Tuesday Portrait will be a day or two late this week. I’m writing on David Beckham. It’s time.
Read More: Historical Goals, Schedule Update
by Brian Phillips · May 6, 2008
“What does it mean? How could anyone say it in such a cheerful and satisfied voice, when it sounds euphemistic and horrifying, like some sinister scheme to power a light bulb with a horse?”
Because they’re the genius Danny Baker. And because they’re right.
Hey, that is Danny Baker! I hadn’t noticed. Does nothing to resolve my consternation, mind.
Who else could it be?
I like your writing Brian, so I’m somewhat loathe to start pontificating on this phrase as I suspect the contrast between your words and mine won’t be favourable. Nonetheless:
‘Pure animal physics’ works for me with this goal as I think it describes the inevitability of it. The goal is in-keeping with ‘the law of the jungle’. It’s like seeing a tiger start its run towards its prey on a nature documentary – it’s about hunger and instinct, and the outcome is inevitable.
A friend once told me about watching Christian Roberts pick up the ball in the dying minutes of a play off semi final at Ashton Gate. His Dad next to him told him that Roberts would score, and my friend knew he was right. Was it the determination of the run or the look in his eye that told you that there could only be one outcome to this passage of play? He wasn’t sure, but I found the situation entirely believeable.
Matt, I think you’ve talked me into it. “Physics” always made sense because of the low angle and steady rise of the shot. But sure, it’s the predator quality of the strike that fits the two terms together. It’s like seeing math go feral and run back to the wild. Like after the goal, physics probably started foaming at the mouth and ripped the back legs off a wildebeest. I can see that. In a way, it’s a potential I’ve always feared in physics.