#judo-EK

[darkworkcourier]

I was wondering, could you write Ghost x fem!reader hand to hand combat training that leads to them making out

YES'M COMING RIGHT UP

reader doesn't have a nickname or any identifying features other than, idk, having hair i guess? also no real warnings except for making out and some suggestive stuff. y'know, promises on the horizon. 👀 i didn't want to go much further in case all you wanted was just makeouts.

---

"No. Hands here. Right. Just about level with your chest."

It's hard to focus with Ghost's hands on your wrists, guiding you into a stance that feels off. You're accustomed to one particular style of defense, and he shifts you into another that makes your muscles ache.

You furrow your brow. "Is it supposed to feel like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like I'm about to throw my rotator cuff out?"

He shrugs, resuming his original stance—one where his hands are lower, parallel to his waist, arms spread like he's going to hug you. "Just means you're using muscles you're not accustomed to exercising," he replies.

"You saying I don't exercise?" you joke.

"Just hold your hands there."

You do, and he gives you about two seconds of warning before he comes at you.

Going up against Ghost in hand-to-hand combat is terrifying. There's no other word for it, no way to describe it outside of using terms like 'pants-shittingly scary'. He's a wall of muscle garbed in black, mask cementing the vision of a very buff Grim Reaper launching himself at you, dragging you into death in some judo move. You're still not accustomed to it, even this many months into your assignment with the 141. The second he moves, that fight or flight instinct screams flee, idiot! and you flinch.

He stops before touching you, sighing like an overburdened elementary school teacher. "You did it again," he says.

You fall out of the stance and raise your hands helplessly. "What do you expect me to do? You ever see yourself in a mirror?"

He ignores that latter question. "I expect you to defend yourself," he replies. "You're gonna meet people far bigger than me out there."

Doubt it, you think. You don't need to remind him that you have gone into the field before, and that you earned your place in the 141 through skill and tenacity. However, at this point, you still haven't seen someone like Ghost out there.

"Okay," you say, rallying yourself and raising your hands again. "I got this. Big, scary dude coming at me. No problem."

You think he raises a brow at you. Not something you can see, but you feel it. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Yep. Totally good."

Ghost goes back into the first pose with his arms out. He hunkers down, looming at the edge of the mat like a very large specter of the imminent end, and yet all you can think is can you use those arms for something else, please.

Which is why you miss the two second warning, and promptly get knocked off your feet by a skeleton-garbed missile of a man.

Because it turns out that he only corrected your stance from the waist up, and you completely forgot what to do with your legs. You didn't brace, didn't set your feet shoulder-width apart to lower your center of gravity and make you more solid. That, and Ghost has such a size advantage of you that it feels a hell of a lot like someone shooting a grenade launcher at a lawn chair.

All to say, you topple and hit the mat hard. Air whuffs out of your lungs, compressed under the sheer weight of Ghost. Sparks dance in your vision for one hot second before you come back to yourself, registering aches in brand new places and the feeling of one of Ghost's (impressively beefy) thighs between your legs.

Unfortunately, robbed of all oxygen, all you manage to eke out is a sad wheeze.

"Fuck," Ghost groans. He manages to hoist himself up on his forearms, lifting the stone weight off your chest so you're not getting compressed like a panini. "Ugh. You okay?"

It takes an embarrassingly long time to get your breath back, and a moment longer to work around the ache in your ribs from having a bulldozer of a man on your chest—not even in a sexy way. "Yeaaahhh," you force out, gritting your teeth and blinking away the last jittery sparkles in your vision. "Gimme a second."

He does, but you register that he's not getting off of you. In fact, he's holding pretty damn steady and not doing something in the name of good teamwork like, say, standing up and helping you off the mat, or asking if you need medical assistance, or making fun of you. Instead, he's most definitely staying quiet, and when you look at him, you suddenly feel pinned anew.

Because he's staring, and it's made so much more intense by the greasepaint around his eyes, drawing out his dark eyes by contrast. You feel his gaze like added weight, and it keeps you still, unable to scoot out from under him even though he's given you room to do so.

Your breathing's back online, but it's not steady, and your mouth is very, very dry.

"Um," is all you can say, and you're proud of yourself for getting that much out.

His eyes flick down, watching your mouth move. They widen when you lick your bottom lip to give it some reprieve.

There's no training for to do in this situation.

And there's certainly no training for— for lifting up his damn mask and revealing a mouth that you're pretty sure you've had wet dreams about. Plush lips, faint silvery scars, fine stubble. God damn, and he was keeping this a secret.

"Ghost," you try again, searching for anything to say. Any word, any question, any kind of affirmation that can give you a litmus test on what the hell is going on here.

Rather than explaining himself, his eyes find yours again and he says—in the lowest of low rumbling voices, "Is this okay?"

How do you say yes or, perhaps, fuck yes without sounding desperate? It's like he reached into your head and plucked out those fantasies you've kept under lock and key since you joined on and saw him for the first time. Hell, you're not totally sure this isn't one of those dreams right now.

So you nod. Just two quick jerks of the head, fabric on the mat definitely fucking up your hair. You can hear the static next to your ear, but you could care less.

Because once Ghost's lips are on yours, nothing matters.

He's so warm, lips deceptively soft (what did you think, they were going to be as calloused as his fingers?), the tang of sweat on his skin, his forearms bracketing you. He's in every direction, kissing you and siphoning out the air again, leaving you gasping when he pulls back.

One breath.

Two.

And he kisses you again, like a confirmation that yes, this is very real and it's happening to you. He didn't trip and fall and kiss you on the way down. His right arm comes up so his fingers brush against your cheek, and then he cups the side of your face with his enormous palm. You open your mouth against his, tasting him, hearing his heavy breathing in tandem with your own.

At the same time, your mind rushes to make all the connections to figure out how you got here, how Ghost is on top of you when he's supposed to be teaching you how to defend yourself. How—

How you missed all of those signals.

Too-long glances at meetings; hands brushing yours when he passed you documents, ammo, rations, a radio; the way he kept close to your six so it was never undefended; every nickname from him teeming with a little more whimsy than you thought him capable of. Never once did you stop and consider if that was how he treated everyone in the 141, or if that was saved for you.

You never asked the question, but you're sure as hell getting an answer.

His tongue brushes against yours, sealed between your lips, teasing whines out of you. He hums in satisfaction, or possibly pleasure; vaguely, you wonder if he's wanted this just as badly, or if this is a spur of the moment decision and he's enjoying the payoff. Regardless, you can't ignore the slight pressure of his thigh between your legs, riding up higher and higher until—

Until you get an incredibly stupid idea.

He doesn't get a two second warning. What he gets is your arms around his back—the hug you wanted and now he gets—and the sudden upward jerk of motion that sends him flailing backwards. In a move you had no idea you were capable of, he's now on his back, mask still riding up to his nose, eyes wide, expression damn near cartoonish.

"Wh—" is all he gets out before you're kissing him.

You're the one bracketing his hips with your thighs. You're the one pinning him down and making him breathless. And, damnit, once you pull back enough to get a look at his face, you're the one getting him to look up at you like he's seeing you for the first time.

You grin, leaning in close and whispering, "Is it supposed to feel like this?"

He licks his lips, and your eyes trace the trail of his tongue. "Like what?" he asks, quieter now than you've ever heard him.

Your answer is another firm kiss, the ache in your muscles shifting course and alchemizing into something far hotter, liquid heat settling between you. And you pull back one more time, dropping your head so your lips brush his ear. You swear you feel him shudder.

"I think we have a few more forms to go through," you say.

[ill-meet-you-in-this-memory]

Pippo goes through his feels

Warnings: None

Pairing: Pippo aka Judo & Nobita Nobi

Language: Hindi + English + English Translations done to the best of my ability

Inspired by these scenes:

Doraemon: Nobita & The Steel Troops

Pippo Singing - 46:15

Flashback 1 - 47:20

Flashback 2 - 53:00

Dinner Song thing - 01:04:20

Pippo and his feels - 01:16:50

And this is THE SONG. I swear this brings back so many memories

AO3 Link

Nobita sighed as he sat down against the tree, the golden light of the setting sun painting everything yellow. He could now understand why the calm before the storm was way more terrifying than the actual storm.

"Aisi duniya mein rehna jaha koi na ho sachme khatarnak lagta hai. Kitni khamoshi hai yaha!", Nobita said as he watched Pippo kick a tiny piece of rock towards the water.

(To live in a world where there’s no one feels truly dangerous. It’s so silent here!)

"Nobita to darpok hai."

(Nobita is a coward.)

Nobita couldn't help the instant spark of frustration that ignited through him and yelled, "Main bahadur hoon!"

(I’m brave!)

Pippo turned towards Nobita, "Ji nahi! Tum darpok ho!"

(Nope! You’re a coward!)

Nobita slammed his hands on the ground, "Dekho! Main darpok nahi hoon!"

(Look! I’m not a coward!)

Pippo smiled as he dance around in circles, singing, "Ji han, ji han, tum darpok ho! Nobita darpok hai, darpok, darpok, darpok-"

(Yes, yes, you’re a coward! Nobita is a coward, coward, coward)

Nobita watched as large white flower petals fell down from the tree, stopping Pippo in his words. Pippo froze for a second before screaming in terror as he tried to get away from the petals, his broken blue cover falling off his head.

"YEH KYA HAI, YEH KYA HAI, YE KYA HAI?"

(WHAT IS THIS, WHAT IS THIS, WHAT IS THIS?)

Nobita broke down into laughter as Pippo stopped running and glared at him, "Pippo, tum to dar gaye!"

(Pippo, you got scared!)

Pippo's face turned red as his cheeks puffed up, "Mein to sirf chok gaya tha! Mein dara nahi tha!"

(I was just surprised! I wasn’t scared!)

It only served to make Nobita laugh more, "Bilkul nahi! Tum to sach mein darpok ho!"

(Not at all! You are really a coward!)

Pippo grew frustrated as he disagreed, "Nahi! Mein darpok nahi hoon!"

(No! I’m not a coward!)

Nobita giggled as he continued teasing Pippo, "Ye sach hai! Ye sach hai! Pippo dar gaya!"

(It’s true! It’s true! Pippo got scared!)

Pippo glared at Nobita, anger fueling his words as he shouted, "Abhi tum haslo jitna hasna hai! Ek baar robot sena aa jayegi phir vo tum logo ka kaam tamam kar legi! Dekhte hi dekhte tum sab ko saaf kar degi! Aur mein bhi apne asli roop mein aagaya to tumhe muhjse koi nai bacha sakta! Iske baad tum mujhse kitni bhi maafi maangoge, mein tumhe maaf nahi karunga! Harkis maaf nahi karunga!"

(Laugh all you want! Once the robot army arrives then they’re going to end you! You’ll all be wiped by them! And if I’m in my true form, then no one is going to be able to save you from me! After that no matter how many times you apologize, I’m not going to forgive you! I definitely won’t forgive you!)

Pippo's whole body trembled as Nobita looked at him with a wistful look on his face, a hint of sadness flowing through his voice, "Lekin, Pippo, mein to tumse ladhna nahi chata, bilkul nahi."

(But, Pippo, I’ve never wanted to fight with you, not at all.)

And all of a sudden all the uncontrollable anger in his body disappeared, replaced by a feeling Pippo couldn't name. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized that Nobita wasn't lying at all. Unlike Pippo who had betrayed him twice by pretending to be his friend, Nobita was being truthful. Not only him but his friends too.

Sabse pehle hai pyaar (The first is love)

The look of appreciation and awe on Doraemon, Suneo, Gian, and Nobita's faces as they clapped when he sang for them on the steps after insulting Gian's awful singing. The amount of warmth that spread through him at their reactions.

Mein aur tum dono toh ek hai (You and me, we’re one)

The amount of excruciating pain he felt when one of the higher-ups caught him singing in Mechatopia and punished him for it, leaving him all broken and thrown aside until Riruru found him.

Uske baad aaye aashaayein (After that come hopes)

"Unki madad karne ka kya fayda?" questioned Pippo after barely escaping the robots who had captured Nobita's friends.

(What will you even get by helping them?)

The conviction in Nobita's face as he replied, "Aisi baat hai? Fayda ya nuksan, mein nahi soch raha! Vo mere dost hai! Mujhe unki madad karni hogi!"

(Is that it? Advantage or not, that’s not my concern. They are my friends! I have to help them!)

Tum toh tum ho (You are you)

"Chinta mat karna, mein tumhari madad karungi." Riruru had said as she worked on fixing him after he'd stupidly gotten himself punished by singing.

(Don’t worry, I’ll help you.)

Mein toh mein hoon (I am me)

Suneo had played music as the six of them had dinner, laughing and enjoying with their looming problems put aside as they danced along to the music.

Nobita had smiled in absolute glee as Pippo wiggled his butt to the music while Gian forced food into Suneo's mouth as Shizuka laughed at their antics.

And when Pippo had fallen quiet as Riruru's voice echoed in his mind, Nobita had noticed.

"Suno, Pippo! Tum akele kya soch rahe ho?" Nobita managed to ask before he had been pulled away by Gian.

(Listen, Pippo! What are you thinking about all alone?)

Aakhir mein hum dono soche (In the end, both of us wonder)

Nobita had tried to be his friend from the very start when he'd found Pippo in the South Pole and was busy being excited about building Pippo's real body.

He had tried to be his friend even when Pippo had tricked them into taking him to the mirror world to find Riruru by saving him when the Mechatopian Robots failed to recognize Pippo and attacked them.

He still tried to be his friend even when Pippo refused to cooperate and help them save their planet by creating as much trouble as he could.

Nobita never lied. He had never wanted to fight with Pippo. Maybe it was time for Pippo to stop fighting against Nobita too.

Ki tum kaun ho aur mein kaun hoon (That who are you and who am I)

Pippo burst out into ugly tears as he waddled towards Nobita, crying out for the other, "Nobita!"

Nobita had only let out a concerned, "Pippo?" before pulling a crying Pippo into his arms, letting him cry his heart out into Nobita's t-shirt while he hummed a tune to him, running a comforting hand along his back.

"Tum chinta mat karo, Pippo, mein hoon na? Sab kuch thik ho jayega!"

(You don’t worry, Pippo, I’m here, right? Everything will get better!)

And this time, Pippo didn't hesitate to believe Nobita. Everything would get better.

THE END

[pazaryerigundem]

Başkan İmamoğlu, paralimpik şampiyonlarını ağırladı

https://pazaryerigundem.com/haber/187836/baskan-imamoglu-paralimpik-sampiyonlarini-agirladi/

Başkan İmamoğlu, paralimpik şampiyonlarını ağırladı

İstanbul Büyükşehir Belediye Başkanı Ekrem İmamoğlu, Paris’te düzenlenen 2024 Paralimpik Oyunları’nda 1 altın, 1 gümüş ve 4 bronz madalya kazanan İBBSK sporcularını Saraçhane’de ağırladı.

İSTANBUL (İGFA) – İstanbul Büyükşehir Belediyesi Spor Kulübü (İBBSK) sporcuları, Paris’te düzenlenen 2024 Paralimpik Oyunları’nda 1 altın, 1 gümüş ve 4 bronz madalya kazandı.

Başkan Ekrem İmamoğlu, İBBSK’nin madalyalı paralimpik sporcularını (Mahmut Bozteke, Paralimpik Oyunlar tekvando şampiyonu; Sadık Savaş, Paralimpik Oyunlar okçuluk ikincisi; Nazmiye Muratlı, Paralimpik Oyunlar halter üçüncüsü; Ecem Taşın Çavdar, Paralimpik Oyunlar judo üçüncüsü; Nazan Akın Güneş, Paralimpik Oyunlar judo üçüncüsü ve Cahide Eke, Paralimpik Oyunlar judo üçüncüsü) Saraçhane’deki makam odasında ağırladı.

İBBSK Başkanı Fatih Keleş ve İBBSK Genel Sekreteri Erdem Aslanoğlu ile sporcu antrenörleri de ziyarette yer aldı.

“2036 ADAYLIK TALEBİMİZ BÜTÜN DÜNYA TARAFINDAN BİLİNİYOR”

İBBSK Başkanı Keleş’ten, “Sporcularımız, Paris’te çok büyük başarıya imza attılar, sağ olsunlar. Bizleri gururlandırdılar. Biz de onları bugün sizinle birlikte misafir edelim istedik. Hakikaten Türk sporu adına büyük bir başarı oldu Paralimpik Oyunlar. Bizi de temsilen arkadaşlarımız 6 madalya kazandılar. Olimpiyatlarda da 2 madalya kazandırmıştı kulüp sporcularımız. Toplamda sekiz madalya kazandırmış olduk” bilgilerini alan Başkan İmamoğlu,  paralimpik oyunların kendilerini mutlu ettiğini söyledi. 

Temennilerinin hem olimpik, hem de paralimpik oyunların en güçlü şekilde devam etmesi olduğunu belirten Başkan İmamoğlu, “Bu yönde de Türkiye olarak, İstanbul’un ev sahipliğinde hem olimpik hem paralimpik oyunlara ev sahipliği yapma konusunda, 2036 adaylık talebimiz, niyetimiz zaten bütün dünya tarafından biliniyor. Sizin gösterdiğiniz bu başarı, özellikle paralimpik oyunlardaki bu gösterdiğiniz başarı, ülkemizde birçok vatandaşımızı, birçok kabiliyetli insanımızı bu yöne yönlendirecek ve spor yapmaya, sporda başarı elde etmeye dönük hamlelerini yapmaya onları cesaretlendirecektir. Bu kapsamda sizin varlığınızı ayrıca çok önemsiyorum” diye konuştu.

Başkan İmamoğlu’nun ardından söz alan şampiyon sporcular ise şampiyona sürecinde yaşadıklarını paylaştı.

Sporcular, kendilerine verdikleri desteklerden dolayı, Başkan İmamoğlu ve İBBSK Başkanı Keleş’e teşekkürlerini iletirken İmamoğlu da, sporcuları çeşitli hediyelerle ödüllendirdi.

BU Haber İGF HABER AJANSI tarafından servis edilmiştir.

[goalhofer]

2020 Olympics Ghana Roster

Athletics

Joseph Amoah (Accra)

Benjamin Azamati-Kwaku (Akim Oda)

Sarfo Ansah (Amasaman)

Joseph Oduru-Manu (Kumasi)

Sean Safo-Antwi (London, U.K.)

Emmanuel Yeboah (Accra)

Nadia Eke (Accra)

Boxing

Samuel Takyi (Kwaebibirem)

Shakul Samed (Accra)

Sulemanu Tetteh (Accra)

Judo

Kwadjo Anani (Brescia, Italy)

Swimming

Abeiku Jackson (Accra)

Unilez Takyi (Mantua, Italy)

Weightlifting

Christian Amoah (Accra)

[kitty-kat-ty]

Oliver's BD, his chibi version: Part 2/4 Werner was a sassy child, Al taught him well, who didn't flinch to beat adult Oliver with his judo skills 😂. Oliver, all I can think about you is, "why are you lying~ why are you always lying, stop to f**king lying" meme 😅 he invented a fairy tale for his chibi self, who believed it. #王子様ek #bmpek #bmp https://www.instagram.com/p/B2n050kpUWK/?igshid=1o863aiq78v8r

[rohitchoudharyphotography]

Afrindo-India's forgotten Africans (A photo series by @rc_rohitchoudhary ) . Concept planned and executed by - @rc_rohitchoudhary Creative direction - @rc_rohitchoudhary Mua- @blush_with_vanshika Featuring- @toshiro_azym Styling - @thestylespunk Inspired by - Siddhis (African tribe in india) . No-one cares about us. There are no facilities in our village -- no piped water, no proper toilets, nothing," said Majgul. Near his home, children with tangled, unwashed hair ran barefoot across narrow alleys lined with shanties. Hope came in the form of a scheme launched in 1987 by a government eager to boost the country's dismal Summer Olympics tally, with Indian athletes taking just nine gold medals in the last century. "We were exploring whether the Siddis had a genetic advantage," athletics coach R. Sundar Raju, who was part of the project, told AFP. "Normally an Indian athlete takes some years before making it to the national level, but the Siddis were doing so in barely three years." But authorities ditched the project seven years later, after realising the impoverished Siddi were more interested in a linked programme that encouraged Indians to pursue sporting careers by giving them highly sought-after government jobs. "They came from such poor families that the moment they secured jobs under a sports quota they grabbed the opportunity and left the training midway," Raju said. 'I used to curse my fate' In the years since, some Siddis in Gujarat instead eked out a living by staging dance performances for tourists or trained as forest guides for Gir National Park, a sanctuary for endangered lions. The state government revived the programme in 2015, focusing mainly on judo and athletics. Promising Siddi youngsters now train at a sports academy in the state. A non-profit group in Karnataka is also mentoring 50 aspiring athletes from the community. "We felt that this particular group has high potential but has been highly neglected," said Nitish Chiniwar, founder of the Bridges of Sports Foundation. To be continued..... #trending #viral #instagram #explorepage #instagood #creativephotography #photographyeveryday #rohitchoudharyphotography (at Indore, India) https://www.instagram.com/p/CSrPkN8tLHg/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[expatimes]

‘No one believes when I say I’m Indian, they think I’m African’

Rohit Majgul has weathered racism and rejection in India as part of a marginalised community tracing its roots back to Africa – but he still dreams of bringing sporting glory to his country.

The 16-year-old is part of a group of teens practising martial arts in a sun-baked field near Jambur village in India’s western state of Gujarat’s Junagadh district, where his parents work as manual labourers.

Growing up around open drains and swarms of flies in the remote village, he and other members of the local Siddi community have been abused for their distinctive dark features and curly hair.

This picture taken on January 6, 2021 shows youths of the Siddi community running while participating in an athletes’ programme at Jambur village

Majgul, a school dropout, sees his judo training as the only way to escape a life riddled with poverty and discrimination.

“No one believes me when I say I am Indian,” he told AFP news agency. “They think I am African, they call me by different abusive names, they tease me.

“I have also been thrown off the bus because of my colour, but I quietly endure everything because I want to do well in sports and carve my own identity.”

Two years ago, Majgul won silver in judo at the Asia-Pacific Youth Games.

His determination to represent India on the international stage was boosted by a government push to identify athletes in the Siddi community, which is believed to have descended from the Bantu peoples of sub-Saharan Africa.

Some are believed to have been brought over during the Islamic conquest of the subcontinent as early as the eighth century.

Many others were likely brought by the Portuguese to India between three and five centuries ago, researchers say.

But they are still viewed as outsiders.

This picture taken on January 6, 2021 shows Rohit Majgul, left, of the Siddi community, practising with coach Hasan Majgul at Jambur village

‘No one cares about us’

When British colonial authorities abolished slavery in the 19th century, Siddis fled to the jungles in fear of their safety.

Gradually they settled on India’s western coast, working as farmhands and labourers while adopting the local culture and languages.

India is now home to about 250,000 Siddis, according to researchers, with most living in Gujarat and Karnataka – with both coastal states facing the eastern tip of Africa from across the Arabian Sea.

Those living in Gujarat are Muslim, making them targets for further discrimination in Hindu-majority India.

“No one cares about us. There are no facilities in our village – no piped water, no proper toilets, nothing,” said Majgul.

Near his home, children with tangled, unwashed hair ran barefoot across narrow alleys lined with shanties.

Hope came in the form of a scheme launched in 1987 by a government eager to boost the country’s dismal Summer Olympics tally, with Indian athletes taking just nine gold medals in the last century.

“We were exploring whether the Siddis had a genetic advantage,” athletics coach R Sundar Raju, who was part of the project, told AFP.

“Normally an Indian athlete takes some years before making it to the national level, but the Siddis were doing so in barely three years.”

But authorities ditched the project seven years later, after realising the impoverished Siddi were more interested in a linked programme that encouraged Indians to pursue sporting careers by giving them highly sought-after government jobs.

“They came from such poor families that the moment they secured jobs under a sports quota, they grabbed the opportunity and left the training midway,” Raju said.

India is home to around 250,000 Siddis, according to researchers, with most living in Gujarat and Karnataka states

‘I used to curse my fate’

In the years since, some Siddis in Gujarat instead eked out a living by staging dance performances for tourists or trained as forest guides for Gir National Park, a sanctuary for endangered lions.

The state government revived the programme in 2015, focusing mainly on judo and athletics. Promising Siddi youngsters now train at a state-run sports academy.

A non-profit group in Karnataka is also mentoring 50 aspiring athletes from the community.

“We felt that this particular group has high potential but has been highly neglected,” said Nitish Chiniwar, founder of the Bridges of Sports Foundation.

Shahnaz Lobi, an aspiring shot-putter from Jambur, jumped at the chance to pursue a sporting career after watching her labourer father struggle to feed his family.

“I used to curse my fate. But one day I got to know about the sports trials and I took part in them,” she said.

Lobi told AFP that she dreamed of competing in the 2024 Olympics.

“I was selected and sent to the state sports academy. I have no friends there but it doesn’t bother me. I just want to win an Olympic medal and let the world know I am Indian.”

Read full article: https://expatimes.com/?p=19659&feed_id=40126

[judocritics]

EK u18 Odivelas, Por: Amsar Dzhamaldinov (Gishi) 3° /-55kg (7 andere Belgen samen 3 overwinningen)

(22/24-Jun-2023)

>> 2023 EK u18 Odivelas, Por (results ijf.org)

verslag < under construction > door een té drukke professionele agenda, slechts verwacht eind mei-2024.

[seaprwire]

Waduh, Xavi Ternyata Pernah 'Disikat' Pakai Judo oleh Eks Barcelona Ini

Eks Barcelona, Boudewijn Zenden, punya satu dosa yang belum lama ini ia akui sendiri. Ia mengaku pernah membuat rekan setimnya, Xavi, mengalami cedera karena dirinya sedang pamer kemampuannya dalam olahraga Judo. source https://www.bola.net/spanyol/waduh-xavi-ternyata-pernah-disikat-pakai-judo-oleh-eks-barcelona-ini-900386.html

[tumblngdice]

One of the main images from Euro 2017

...comes from the group match between the hosts, Holland, and Belgium.

Lieke Martens, the Holland winger, with her back to goal, has drawn the Belgium right-back Laura Deloose to the touchline. With Martens shielding the ball and heading gently towards her own half, Deloose seems to have the danger covered. She had not reckoned on what would follow.

In the blink of an eye Deloose has collided head-on with her team-mate Elke van Gorp. Deloose looks distraught and disoriented in equal measure and Van Gorp is left on the turf.

And Martens?

She has nonchalantly executed an exquisite Cruyff turn and set off on a long stride towards goal, oblivious to the carnage behind her.

It is a moment that typifies the spirit in the Netherlands at the moment: full of confidence and joy. In many ways and on many levels this tournament feels like a watershed moment for women’s football.

It is no different for the host nation.

“Ons EK” (“Our Euros”) has been the motto for the squad in interviews and on social media. Propelled by the raucous home support, Holland have a belief that distinguishes this from previous exploits. A sea of orange engulfs the streets in the leadup to each game, thousands bobbing along in unison. “Hup Oranje” banners and Dutch flags stand out like sails, blowing along with the wind of women’s football that has swept the nation. A passionate chorus of “Wij houden van Oranje” (“We love Oranje”) sounds in the stadium during every Holland match – and they have won all four.

Speaking before the game against Belgium last week, the manager, Sarina Wiegman, who played more than 100 times for the national team, was aware of the significance: “We have said before the tournament that this must be an important moment for women’s football. And on the field, of course, we set the mood in the country. We must ensure the fun.”

The Leeuwinnen have achieved that.

Reminiscent of legendary Dutch sides in men’s football, Wiegman’s team play with a forward-thinking optimism and fluidity in possession that is set up to get the best from an ultra-talented front three comprising forwards from Barcelona, Arsenal and Liverpool.

The name dominating the headlines is that of Martens – and deservedly so. A Barcelona left-winger making the headlines is not a rare sight but arguably no one has been as decisive for their team as Martens, with her passes and dribbles just as crucial as her goals. The 24-year-old has scored twice and assisted another in four matches, second only to England’s Jodie Taylor, who has scored five times.

But that statistic does not do justice to Martens, who idolises Lionel Messi and whose two-footed ability inspires awe. In a friendly before Euro 2017, Martens scored a fantastic goal against Wales, cutting in from the left and ghosting past at least three defenders before finding the far corner. It was a carbon-copy of a goal she had scored a few weeks earlier for her then club, Rosengard, against Vittsjo GIK in Sweden. Except on that occasion she had bounded in from the right, glided past opponents as if they were cones and produced a thunderous left-foot finish.

Martens, who played with the Brazilian legend Marta for half a season at Rosengard, is an all-round creative force. In the quarter-finals against Sweden she spotted the surging run of Shanice van de Sanden and played a perfectly weighted crossfield pass to the Liverpool forward, who set up Arsenal’s summer signing Vivianne Miedema for a tap-in.

The prospect of Martens facing Lucy Bronze – arguably the best right-back in women’s football – promises an engrossing, and potentially pivotal, sub-plot to the semi-final.

A player just as crucial to the Holland cause, albeit not necessarily in the same highlights-dominating way, is Jackie Groenen. The 22-year-old, who grew up in Belgium and nearly declared for them, has been a contender for player of the tournament and earned praise from Louis van Gaal after her performance against Norway.

The FFC Frankfurt midfielder is intelligent and seemingly inexhaustible. A former national champion and European bronze medallist in judo, she has excellent balance and uses her strength smartly, despite being relatively small.

Sometimes nicknamed “The Ant” in her Chelsea days, Groenen – with her relentless running and attempts to nick the ball – is a player few opponents like to face. In possession she has proved the value of simplicity and has a keen passing vision.

In a setup that depends on extensive use of the wings but lacks overlapping full-backs, Groenen’s role is vital as the first point in an attacking axis, and she has created chances in every game. In at least two of Oranje’s goals, the attack began with a recovery by Groenen in her own half, before she played in Martens to carry the ball forward and find Van de Sanden in a quick switch of play.

If Martens is the icing on the cake, it is not far-fetched to suggest that Groenen may be the cake. As she detailed to Michiel de Hoog of De Correspondent, Groenen used to watch videos of Johan Cruyff on the long car journeys from Belgium to her first professional club, SG Essen. She dons that legendary shirt number and it is a joy to see a Dutch No14 put in dominating performances and lead by example.

In the buildup to the tournament, the leading Dutch magazine Voetbal International featured female footballers on its cover for the first time in its 52-year history. The shirt manufactuerers Nike switched the lion on the Dutch football federation (KNVB) crest for a lioness. The 21,732 attendance for the opening game against Norway set a Dutch record for a women’s football match, soon to be broken with the 30,000-seat De Grolsch Veste in Enschede sold out for the semi-final.

There is plenty more to achieve.

At Barcelona Martens will earn around €200,000 (£180,000) a year – not too far off of what most of her male counterparts take home each week. But the fact that scores of young boys and girls will watch these Euros and find heroes and idols in players such as Martens, Van de Sanden and Groenen, just as they might look up to Messi, Cristiano Ronaldo or Arjen Robben, is something to be proud of and build on. Women’s football is one of the fastest-growing sports in the Netherlands and it is expected to grow further. In a video released last year by the KNVB about women’s football, the final shot features the word “vrouwenvoetbal” (women’s football) being replaced by “voetbal”.

“Everything is possible,” Wiegman said, speaking about her team’s chances of winning the tournament. If Holland do pull off a home victory, that may also stand true for the sport in the country.

[...] Priya Ramesh, 2 Aug 2017 -- ‘Lieke Martens adds magic to Holland...

[alkmaarcentraal]

Dylan van der Kolk gaat voor podiumplek EK Judo

Dylan van der Kolk gaat voor podiumplek EK Judo De Alkmaarse judoka Dylan van der Kolk werkt hard om zi...

https://www.alkmaarcentraal.nl/nieuws/60022732-dylan-van-der-kolk-gaat-voor-podiumplek-ek-judo

[haberkaraman]

1 Altın, 1 bronz kazandılar

1 Altın, 1 bronz kazandılar

Karaman Judo Takımı, Sakarya‘dan altın ve gümüş madalya ile 2 de 5.’lik kazanarak döndü.

7. Uluslararası 30 Ağustos Zafer Haftası Valilik Kupası Judo Turnuvasında ümitler kategorisinde mücadele eden Karaman Gençlik ve Spor Kulübü judocuları, ferdi ve takım kategorilerindeki performanslarıyla yine madalyalar kazandılar.

Mücadelelerde, 78 kiloda Ebru Atabay altın madalya, 52 kiloda Ebru Karademirbr…

[mishallaneously]

brush twice a day

Vladimir Putin grumbled as his iPhone alarm sounded. Who had changed it to marimba? Marimba was the worst.

He slid his satin eyemask off one eye and blearily blinked into the morning light streaming through his curtains. Useless fucking curtains, he thought. He flopped back on the mountain of pillows behind him. Five more minutes, he swore to himself. Five more minutes and then he’d be ready to lead the greatest country in the world again. Five more minutes and he could go back to plotting the inevitable downfall of the West.

He’d just tucked himself back under the covers when a tentative knock sounded at the door. He groaned.

“Sir, your dentist’s appointment is scheduled this afternoon.”

Putin’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. He hated the dentist almost as much as he hated capitalism.

“Reschedule it!” He called back.

“You’ve rescheduled it four times already, sir.”

“Next week is better for me. I’m busy.” A lie, but his word was law so.

There was a pause on the other side of the door. “Actually, you have that whole thing with the sabotage of the American election next week. Today is literally the only day we can do it.”

Govno. Shit. He forgot it was almost November.

“Fine.” Putin worried his lip between his teeth.

He sat at the breakfast table and stared at his plate, stony faced.

“I’ve told you a thousand times I don’t eat toast unless the crust is cut off,” he spat at a passing servant with thinly restrained fury.

She jumped and fumbled for the plate before darting out of the room.

His aide, Aleksandr, tutted from across the room.

“You have something to say?”

Aleksander froze. He shook his head quickly, no.

“Good.” Putin smoothed the napkin in his lap.

By the time the new, crustless toast arrived Putin was hardly hungry. Fear had sated his appetite. Regardless, for his aide’s benefit, he smeared butter and jam in globs across the surface and, while making direct eye contact with Aleksandr, took a long, pronounced bite. He finished the whole plate that way.  It stirred something pleasant in him to see the aide uncomfortable.

Putin tapped his fingers in an endless disjointed rhythm across the lacquered desktop in his study.

“What time is it?” He snapped at his aide.

“A quarter to the hour, sir.”

“Fetch me my toothbrush.”

“Again?” Putin had brushed his teeth two times since breakfast. He hated brushing his teeth.

“Yes, again.” He bit back.

Aleksandr sat patiently next to the desk with the spit cup in hand while Putin brushed. He knelt with the cup held up like a sacrificial offering while the president spat into it. His eyes were closed tightly and he jumped a little when Putin reached a rough, leathery hand to caress his cheek.

“Good.” Putin whispered. Aleksandr shuddered but remained stationary, as if he were caught in Medusa’s gaze. Putin smiled softly, tracing a thumb over the apple of Aleks’ cheek. The slight tremble in his aide sent satisfaction running down his spine.

“Did you remember to floss?” Aleksandr stammered.

The color drained from Putin’s face.

He responded flatly. “No.”

“You probably should, dentist’s always ask.” Aleksandr stood, then, smoothing the pleats of his pants.

Putin crossed his arms stiffly across his chest. He would not do it.

“It’s a good preventor of gingivitis, you know.”

Putin shot out of his seat and took an imposing step toward Aleksandr who backed himself into the wall.

“I am the President of this fucking country and I say it is not of import.” He glowered at his aide.

A buzzer broke the tension, startling both parties. “The President’s 11 ‘o'clock appointment is here,” a voice crackled over the line.

Putin’s eyes widened. His frame shrunk as his shoulders hunched and he slumped back into his chair.

There was a knock at the door and Aleksandr made to leave.

“No. You stay.” Putin mustered as much authority as he could. He eyed Aleksandr’s hand; how comforting would it be to hold it during this process? After a moment’s hesitation he brushed off the feeling. He was the President of Russia, goddammit.

Aleksandr clung to the perimeter of the room as the dentist strode in.

The lab coat was starched and freshly white. It gleamed like an idyllic pearly white tooth, the opposite of what lay beyond the barrier of Putin’s lips. The black case in the dentist’s grasp loomed like it contained the nation’s nuclear launch codes. It didn’t, of course, those were safe from dentist-kind, Putin was fairly certain.

Putin stood as the dentist — he had never remembered his name and quite honestly didn’t care enough to learn it at this point — bowed his head in respect.

“Shall we?” The Dentist motioned for Putin to settle back into his chair. He didn’t like the mischievous, knowing flicker he saw in the man’s eye.

Putin begrudgingly opened his mouth for The Dentist. His eyes darted to Aleksandr. For the record, these dentist visits were the only times a man had been in his mouth. Or inside him at all. Hand to god.

The Dentist hummed as he poked and prodded at Putin’s pearly whites in search of cavities. Putin despised his confidence; The Dentist had no fear around him, the most fearsome man in the country, maybe the world. He should have The Dentist threatened maybe, for good measure. Just to rattle him into submission a little. A good intimidation always settled Putin’s nerves.

“Everything seems to be in order, Mr. President.”

Putin exhaled in relief.

“One last thing, though.” The Dentist squinted as he looked closer at Putin’s mouth. “Have you been flossing?”

His eyes widened. He dare not look at Aleksandr. He heard him snort and attempt to cover it up as a sneeze.

“Yes.” Putin lied around the latex-covered fingers in his mouth.

“Every day?”

“Of course.” He said with as much conviction as possible. He was the President after all, he could have this man killed for doubting him.

“So this won’t hurt then.” And before Putin could react The Dentist was laying siege to Putin’s gums.

The floss felt like the barbed wire that fenced in the gulags. Putin yelped in pain and his gums leaked blood redder than the Communist Manifesto.

As a tear eked out from the corner of his eye, he flailed his hand out as if to knock The Dentist off balance. He was trained in judo, after all. But his hand connected with another and his fingers became entangled with other, masculine fingers.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Aleksandr who nodded softly. He dropped his hand and sighed, reveling in the feeling of their fingers laced together.

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Waduh, Xavi Ternyata Pernah ‘Disikat’ Pakai Judo oleh Eks Barcelona Ini

[specialneedsjudo]

SG05 – Laatste vrijdagavond 2018-2019

SG05 – Laatste vrijdagavond 2018-2019

Niet zoveel foto’s van deze vrijdagavond (van de trainingen van onze EK-teams worden zoals gebruikelijk geen foto’s gemaakt) maar er is wel veel gebeurd! Matthijs Schrama was de laatste die deze week zijn nieuwe bruine band kreeg!

Zeer geacht team van de Maandagavond-judo, Afgelopen maandag was ik er voor de derde keer omdat Pieter zijn zwarte band ging krijgen. Ik wil jullie mijn waardering…

[specialneedsjudofoundation]

SG05 – Laatste vrijdagavond 2018-2019

SG05 – Laatste vrijdagavond 2018-2019

Niet zoveel foto’s van deze vrijdagavond (van de trainingen van onze EK-teams worden zoals gebruikelijk geen foto’s gemaakt) maar er is wel veel gebeurd! Matthijs Schrama was de laatste die deze week zijn nieuwe bruine band kreeg!

Zeer geacht team van de Maandagavond-judo, Afgelopen maandag was ik er voor de derde keer omdat Pieter zijn zwarte band ging krijgen. Ik wil jullie mijn waardering…