Tuesday, March 31, 2009
'Arry! Who r ya?
It seems managers try to hard.
In 2008 Harry Redknapp was stated as saying he supported Arsenal. In fact he said he 'was a big Arsenal fan as a kid.'
Of course after he moved to manage Tottenham he changed his tune quicker than a DJ. 'I am a big follower of the history of the game and Tottenham have been a great club over the years. I followed Tottenham, I trained there as an 11-year-old, 12-year-old so I know the history of the club. It is a big, big club'
Saying you know something about anything cos you spent a couple of years there way back when is pretty bloody desperate.
I mean, it sounds almost presidential duunit? Like Barack Obama describing his years in Indonesia and how they had given him an understanding of Islam and life in developing countries.
In 2008 Harry Redknapp was stated as saying he supported Arsenal. In fact he said he 'was a big Arsenal fan as a kid.'
Of course after he moved to manage Tottenham he changed his tune quicker than a DJ. 'I am a big follower of the history of the game and Tottenham have been a great club over the years. I followed Tottenham, I trained there as an 11-year-old, 12-year-old so I know the history of the club. It is a big, big club'
Saying you know something about anything cos you spent a couple of years there way back when is pretty bloody desperate.
I mean, it sounds almost presidential duunit? Like Barack Obama describing his years in Indonesia and how they had given him an understanding of Islam and life in developing countries.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Tottenham's humiliasian
Pity poor Spurs. They try so hard to be thought of as a big club but recent events have without doubt burst that illusion.
They have spent the last few weeks desperately trying to arrange some friendlis in South East Asia for May but, unlike teams like Chelsea, Liverpool and Manchester United, they have been finding it hard.
First they approached Indonesia. With Indonesian shirt sponsors you'd think this would have been a no brainer but the FA in Jakarta said no thanks, prefering to prioritise their own domestic league.
A few hurried phone calls later and it was announced the side from the swamps of Middlesex would be playing Vietnam and Singapore.
But now the Vietnamese have pulled the plug citing excessive costs and a lack of a sponsor!
So will the Singapore game also be pulled? Will they come all the way over here just for one friendly or will they knock it on the head, blush quietly and admit to the fact they are nothing but a two bob outfit with little recognition beyond their own shores?
They have spent the last few weeks desperately trying to arrange some friendlis in South East Asia for May but, unlike teams like Chelsea, Liverpool and Manchester United, they have been finding it hard.
First they approached Indonesia. With Indonesian shirt sponsors you'd think this would have been a no brainer but the FA in Jakarta said no thanks, prefering to prioritise their own domestic league.
A few hurried phone calls later and it was announced the side from the swamps of Middlesex would be playing Vietnam and Singapore.
But now the Vietnamese have pulled the plug citing excessive costs and a lack of a sponsor!
So will the Singapore game also be pulled? Will they come all the way over here just for one friendly or will they knock it on the head, blush quietly and admit to the fact they are nothing but a two bob outfit with little recognition beyond their own shores?
Sunday, March 29, 2009
10 Reasons never to go to another England home game
1 - Having to join a poncey England fan club to prove my loyalty
2 - Outrageous ticket prices
3 - Peter Crouch
4 - Face painters
5 - Mexican waves
6 - The risk of being seen on TV with 4 & 5
7 - That bloody brass band
8 - Having the twat next to me singing he's England till he dies
9 - Seeing Daily Mail readers in the flesh
10 - The possibility of having to cheer a Frank Lamparse goal
11 - Oh yeah ... I don't live in England anymore
God I'm a whinging old git at times. England are beating Slovakia 3-0 in a pointless friendly, are on a roll, are doing the business under Fabio and all I can do is whinge.
What's with the shorts and socks? Free of kit manufacturer's logo and FA badge? Shirley Nott?
2 - Outrageous ticket prices
3 - Peter Crouch
4 - Face painters
5 - Mexican waves
6 - The risk of being seen on TV with 4 & 5
7 - That bloody brass band
8 - Having the twat next to me singing he's England till he dies
9 - Seeing Daily Mail readers in the flesh
10 - The possibility of having to cheer a Frank Lamparse goal
11 - Oh yeah ... I don't live in England anymore
God I'm a whinging old git at times. England are beating Slovakia 3-0 in a pointless friendly, are on a roll, are doing the business under Fabio and all I can do is whinge.
What's with the shorts and socks? Free of kit manufacturer's logo and FA badge? Shirley Nott?
Friday, March 27, 2009
Scottish football - pointless or potential?
Scottish football – potential or pointless?
The whole notion of a Scottish Premier League is laughable. In a country where two teams win everything how can anything be labelled a premier league?
The current edition is 10 years old and guess what? Celtic have won it six times, Rangers four. In the four years when Celtic didn’t finish top they finished second. In fact the only time any team has intruded on the Old Firm’s duopoly was back in 2006 when Hearts finished second behind Celtic.
The dominance continues to the stats. The top scorers from the last 10 seasons played for either Celtic or Rangers. The players’ player of the year came from Celtic or Rangers. The writer’s player of the year came from Celtic or Rangers. Except for one odd season, 2006, when Hearts Craig Gordon won it. The year Hearts came second.
They also of course boast the biggest stadiums with Celtic’s Parkhead holding nearly 61,000 and Ibrox over 50,000. The next biggest is the rather poncey Pittodrie where Aberdeen rarely fill their 22,000 seater. Teams like Falkirk, St Mirren and Hamilton Academical, fixture fillers and cannon fodder all, have stadiums that hold less than 10,000 and the struggle to fill that.
Then we have the Scottish national team. Once upon a time it was filled with players from the top clubs in England. Not any more. Maybe the talent pool has emptied north of the border. Maybe players from Togo, South Korea and Guatemala are better but we’re seeing less players head south.
It’s come to something when the likes of Craig Gordon and Alan Hutton, two of the Scottish footballs higher profile names, moved south to also rans like Sunderland and Tottenham.
Now the national side gets its players from Cardiff City, Falkirk, a 37 year old journeyman called Graham Alexander and Bristol City. The second most capped player is Darren Fletcher, a bit part player at Manchester United.
One win in their last nine games, and that against the all conquering Iceland, is evidence of Scotland’s fall from grace in the world of football.
Back in 2002 the national side went on a short Asian tour playing games in Hong Kong and South Korea. Perhaps that is the future of Scotland? Pre season tours to places like New Zealand, Canada and South Africa. Places with a large migrant Scottish population who can put on their finest tartan, neck their finest whiskeys and watch their nation’s finest footballers. Get beaten.
Celtic and Rangers. Two of the biggest names in football, they are successful and they get massive crowds. Why don’t we see Singaporeans, Malaysians or Thais wearing hoped shirts or waving the red hand of Ulster? Simple. Because the players aren’t famous. You don’t read about them in the gossip pages.
So Scottish football plods along in its own little way. Sectarian chanting dating back to 17th century Ireland aside the game does little to stir columnists or headline writers outh of the border anymore.
Putting aside the Old Firm’s battles, the game exisits purely for die hards to show how much they love their own side. Sides like Cowdenbeath which you couldn’t find on a map. Since before the second world war they have won just one trophy. Generations have grown up following their side knowing nothing of the glamour their English cousins take for granted.
Calling themselves the Blue Brazil (!) they currently sit top of the Scottish 3rd Division ahead of powerhouses like Montrose and Albion Rovers and doubtless they’re loving every minute of it.
Perhaps, after they fall back into anonymity future generations will be told tales of Gemmell’s brace against Montrose one wet and windy evening by some flat cap wearing old git blabbing contentedly into his half empty glass. And defiantly he will look up and say, ‘aye, I was there.’
The whole notion of a Scottish Premier League is laughable. In a country where two teams win everything how can anything be labelled a premier league?
The current edition is 10 years old and guess what? Celtic have won it six times, Rangers four. In the four years when Celtic didn’t finish top they finished second. In fact the only time any team has intruded on the Old Firm’s duopoly was back in 2006 when Hearts finished second behind Celtic.
The dominance continues to the stats. The top scorers from the last 10 seasons played for either Celtic or Rangers. The players’ player of the year came from Celtic or Rangers. The writer’s player of the year came from Celtic or Rangers. Except for one odd season, 2006, when Hearts Craig Gordon won it. The year Hearts came second.
They also of course boast the biggest stadiums with Celtic’s Parkhead holding nearly 61,000 and Ibrox over 50,000. The next biggest is the rather poncey Pittodrie where Aberdeen rarely fill their 22,000 seater. Teams like Falkirk, St Mirren and Hamilton Academical, fixture fillers and cannon fodder all, have stadiums that hold less than 10,000 and the struggle to fill that.
Then we have the Scottish national team. Once upon a time it was filled with players from the top clubs in England. Not any more. Maybe the talent pool has emptied north of the border. Maybe players from Togo, South Korea and Guatemala are better but we’re seeing less players head south.
It’s come to something when the likes of Craig Gordon and Alan Hutton, two of the Scottish footballs higher profile names, moved south to also rans like Sunderland and Tottenham.
Now the national side gets its players from Cardiff City, Falkirk, a 37 year old journeyman called Graham Alexander and Bristol City. The second most capped player is Darren Fletcher, a bit part player at Manchester United.
One win in their last nine games, and that against the all conquering Iceland, is evidence of Scotland’s fall from grace in the world of football.
Back in 2002 the national side went on a short Asian tour playing games in Hong Kong and South Korea. Perhaps that is the future of Scotland? Pre season tours to places like New Zealand, Canada and South Africa. Places with a large migrant Scottish population who can put on their finest tartan, neck their finest whiskeys and watch their nation’s finest footballers. Get beaten.
Celtic and Rangers. Two of the biggest names in football, they are successful and they get massive crowds. Why don’t we see Singaporeans, Malaysians or Thais wearing hoped shirts or waving the red hand of Ulster? Simple. Because the players aren’t famous. You don’t read about them in the gossip pages.
So Scottish football plods along in its own little way. Sectarian chanting dating back to 17th century Ireland aside the game does little to stir columnists or headline writers outh of the border anymore.
Putting aside the Old Firm’s battles, the game exisits purely for die hards to show how much they love their own side. Sides like Cowdenbeath which you couldn’t find on a map. Since before the second world war they have won just one trophy. Generations have grown up following their side knowing nothing of the glamour their English cousins take for granted.
Calling themselves the Blue Brazil (!) they currently sit top of the Scottish 3rd Division ahead of powerhouses like Montrose and Albion Rovers and doubtless they’re loving every minute of it.
Perhaps, after they fall back into anonymity future generations will be told tales of Gemmell’s brace against Montrose one wet and windy evening by some flat cap wearing old git blabbing contentedly into his half empty glass. And defiantly he will look up and say, ‘aye, I was there.’
Thursday, March 26, 2009
I went to an advertising fair and a football match broke out
It must be a quiet week. With no real football till next weekend, ok there's a couple of internationals but they're usually only worth watching if there's sod all else on TV, the press are looking everywhere. And look what monsters they have found!
England's new kit officially is revealed on Saturday. Woo, officially note ye. Good news for the kit manufacturers no doubt and good news for the FA who probably get some royalty on each shirt sold. But not such good news for cash pressed dads with kids brought up to believe that dressing like Lampard has them running like Lampard, dressing like Rooney has them shagging grannies like Rooney and dressing like Cole (A) gives them license to act thick and get away with it.
The complete kit, shirt, shorts and socks, will set back anxious parents the best part of 70 quid. Per kid!
With jobs being lost left, right and centre, with people losing their houses, with credit tighter it's just what parents need. Of course not buying could be an option...albeit an unpopular one.
The other story doing the rounds is that of Wigan Athletic changing the name of their stadium from one of chairman Dave Whelan's companies to another of Dave Whelan's companies. Which maybe of news to Dave Whelan's companies but sure as hell ain't to me.
The media is little more than a mouth piece for the corporates who flood the game with money. I don't get anything out of publicising the names of sponsors, does the real media?
Why should we all follow blindly just 'cos one company introduces a new ball or 'cos an airline sponsors a football stadium? Why should we repeat the hyperbole?
Once upon a time football was about people kickng a ball around. Not any more. Now it's mind games, product launches and corporate nose bags.
England's new kit officially is revealed on Saturday. Woo, officially note ye. Good news for the kit manufacturers no doubt and good news for the FA who probably get some royalty on each shirt sold. But not such good news for cash pressed dads with kids brought up to believe that dressing like Lampard has them running like Lampard, dressing like Rooney has them shagging grannies like Rooney and dressing like Cole (A) gives them license to act thick and get away with it.
The complete kit, shirt, shorts and socks, will set back anxious parents the best part of 70 quid. Per kid!
With jobs being lost left, right and centre, with people losing their houses, with credit tighter it's just what parents need. Of course not buying could be an option...albeit an unpopular one.
The other story doing the rounds is that of Wigan Athletic changing the name of their stadium from one of chairman Dave Whelan's companies to another of Dave Whelan's companies. Which maybe of news to Dave Whelan's companies but sure as hell ain't to me.
The media is little more than a mouth piece for the corporates who flood the game with money. I don't get anything out of publicising the names of sponsors, does the real media?
Why should we all follow blindly just 'cos one company introduces a new ball or 'cos an airline sponsors a football stadium? Why should we repeat the hyperbole?
Once upon a time football was about people kickng a ball around. Not any more. Now it's mind games, product launches and corporate nose bags.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Filthy Brown
If you listened carefully you would have heard Hull City manager Phil Brown whining all the way back up the M1 on Tuesday night after seeing his team lose 2-1 to Arsenal in the FA Cup 6th round.
Like every good manager, and all the bad ones, when his team loses he needs a scapegoat because sure as eating vindaloos gives you the shits it ain’t going to be him or his players’ fault they lost a lead.
The Tigers dominated much of the first half and had the chances to open up a bigger lead than the 1-0 they took into the break with them. They didn’t. They had a goal disallowed, they scored through a lucky deflection and they failed to convert the rest. The key word here is they failed.
As the second half wore on the result was inevitable. Arsenal score late goals, Brown should have known that. They’d hit the crossbar, gone just wide. It was only a matter of time.
His defenders made a right old balls up and clearing the ball from Bendtner, who never had the thing under control, before van Persie drilled home from close range.
Then came the decisive second. Replays showed Gallas was offside but the linesman, following the spirit of the law which says the attacking team should be given the benefit of the doubt, thought the keeper had got a touch. Replays were inconclusive, what chance the lino?
Brown was having none of it. His post match press conference was embarrassing. His whining matched the Aussies after they lost the Ashes, he lashed out at anything and everything to show that though his team had lost it wasn’t his fault.
He has a pop at Fabregas who wasn’t even playing, accusing him of spitting at his assistant. The ref and linesman were of course fair game as was Arsene Wenger being French and all that.
We must remember of course Phil Brown’s background. He learnt his trade at the feet of that whiner extradinaire Sam Allardyce. The media’s favourite manager, the man who encouraged his players to kick first, play later. The man who signed El Hadj Diuof twice.
If Allardyce is the anti-football then Brown is one of his little imps. An ambitious imp no doubt with an eye for the camera and the headline.
Hull City play football unlike his mentor’s but behind that gleamy white smarmy American politico smile there is all the pent up anger and hatred he imbibed from Big Sam.
He has done a wonderful job with Hull. I gave them credit when they beat us 2-1 at ours earlier in the season. But on Tuesday night Brown showed his true colours. A sore loser quick to blame everyone but himself, much like every other manager, his outburst may well ensure that the Tigers are no longer the neutral’s favourite.
He of course won’t give two hoots about that. He is answerable to the board and fans of Hull and at the end of the season his report card will look pretty good. He deserves the praise he has received so far this season just as much as he deserves the brickbats after the other night.
Like every good manager, and all the bad ones, when his team loses he needs a scapegoat because sure as eating vindaloos gives you the shits it ain’t going to be him or his players’ fault they lost a lead.
The Tigers dominated much of the first half and had the chances to open up a bigger lead than the 1-0 they took into the break with them. They didn’t. They had a goal disallowed, they scored through a lucky deflection and they failed to convert the rest. The key word here is they failed.
As the second half wore on the result was inevitable. Arsenal score late goals, Brown should have known that. They’d hit the crossbar, gone just wide. It was only a matter of time.
His defenders made a right old balls up and clearing the ball from Bendtner, who never had the thing under control, before van Persie drilled home from close range.
Then came the decisive second. Replays showed Gallas was offside but the linesman, following the spirit of the law which says the attacking team should be given the benefit of the doubt, thought the keeper had got a touch. Replays were inconclusive, what chance the lino?
Brown was having none of it. His post match press conference was embarrassing. His whining matched the Aussies after they lost the Ashes, he lashed out at anything and everything to show that though his team had lost it wasn’t his fault.
He has a pop at Fabregas who wasn’t even playing, accusing him of spitting at his assistant. The ref and linesman were of course fair game as was Arsene Wenger being French and all that.
We must remember of course Phil Brown’s background. He learnt his trade at the feet of that whiner extradinaire Sam Allardyce. The media’s favourite manager, the man who encouraged his players to kick first, play later. The man who signed El Hadj Diuof twice.
If Allardyce is the anti-football then Brown is one of his little imps. An ambitious imp no doubt with an eye for the camera and the headline.
Hull City play football unlike his mentor’s but behind that gleamy white smarmy American politico smile there is all the pent up anger and hatred he imbibed from Big Sam.
He has done a wonderful job with Hull. I gave them credit when they beat us 2-1 at ours earlier in the season. But on Tuesday night Brown showed his true colours. A sore loser quick to blame everyone but himself, much like every other manager, his outburst may well ensure that the Tigers are no longer the neutral’s favourite.
He of course won’t give two hoots about that. He is answerable to the board and fans of Hull and at the end of the season his report card will look pretty good. He deserves the praise he has received so far this season just as much as he deserves the brickbats after the other night.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Blaming the ref
Once again we have the unsightly image of a ref being kicked while he is down and the mob, egged on by bloggers and TV replays, making sure they get one in as he rolls hopeless in the mud. Quality stuff of course. Refs deserve the abuse they get from the stands.
But what makes this story ugly is the way the writer is so keen to ask if such a such is the worst ref ever in the Premier League. Coming from a guy who has probably never rattled a pea in his life, it's a bit rich.
Refs are such easy targets and asking if one is the worst is an easy headline.
Why not ask whether Emmanuel Eboue is the worst player in the Premier League? Or would that upset a few influential people?
But what makes this story ugly is the way the writer is so keen to ask if such a such is the worst ref ever in the Premier League. Coming from a guy who has probably never rattled a pea in his life, it's a bit rich.
Refs are such easy targets and asking if one is the worst is an easy headline.
Why not ask whether Emmanuel Eboue is the worst player in the Premier League? Or would that upset a few influential people?
Subscribe to Posts [Atom]