Sunday, August 30, 2009
Is it against Premier League rules to say bad things about Manchester United
The ref
The ref didn’t cost the Arsenal the game so this is not sour grapes. But six yellow cards and sending Arsene Wenger somewhere smacked of a little child in desperate need of attention. The name is Dean, Mike Dean. (scroll down for more about this hero with a whistle)
Eastern wisdom
After the game here in Asia we got words of wisdom from Steve MacMahon and Shebby Singh. And with what did this talking heads enlighten us after the game. Well, they praised Darren Fletcher to the roof because of his work rate and running. They said that for 10 minutes United got at Arsenal. And they said that United showed mettle cos they have more experience.
United scored their first from a pen, their second from an own goal at a free kick. The only other time they really worked Almunia was a piss weak effort from Evra.
Funny, innit. When Arsenal beat Celtic 2-0 up in Glasgow it was because they were lucky with an og and Gallas getting a lucky touch. Arsenal are lucky when it happens, United are experienced.
These people don’t even know what they’re saying half the time. They have their stereotypes they repeat like a mantra and sod the contradictions.
Arsenal had a few free kicks first half that, at Everton, produced goals for Vermaelan and Gallas. This time the delivery was poor and harmless.
Robin van Persie had a shot well saved by Foster, a free kick finger tipped on to the bar and a goal disallowed. Not a bad day at the office for the Dutchman and one that on another day would have seen one of them converted. Three efforts on target. Three more than United yet the ‘pundits’ try and tell us that United won because they were more experienced and ‘better.’
United’s second goal. Great header by Diaby but it was a free header. Had he done his job and just cleared the bloody thing everyone would have moaned about the delivery. But because they scored out come the tired old clichés about that old war horse Giggs and how you can rely on players like him to step up to the plate.
A fine line indeed between hero and zero.
United fans lack of class
And then we come to the scummy mugs who populate Old Trafford singing THAT song about Arsene Wenger. Let’s just say this. Had it been Arsenal fans singing songs about runways, ice and Munich those muppets would have been up in arms as would the media. Big club maybe but their fans certainly lack class.
The ref didn’t cost the Arsenal the game so this is not sour grapes. But six yellow cards and sending Arsene Wenger somewhere smacked of a little child in desperate need of attention. The name is Dean, Mike Dean. (scroll down for more about this hero with a whistle)
Eastern wisdom
After the game here in Asia we got words of wisdom from Steve MacMahon and Shebby Singh. And with what did this talking heads enlighten us after the game. Well, they praised Darren Fletcher to the roof because of his work rate and running. They said that for 10 minutes United got at Arsenal. And they said that United showed mettle cos they have more experience.
United scored their first from a pen, their second from an own goal at a free kick. The only other time they really worked Almunia was a piss weak effort from Evra.
Funny, innit. When Arsenal beat Celtic 2-0 up in Glasgow it was because they were lucky with an og and Gallas getting a lucky touch. Arsenal are lucky when it happens, United are experienced.
These people don’t even know what they’re saying half the time. They have their stereotypes they repeat like a mantra and sod the contradictions.
Arsenal had a few free kicks first half that, at Everton, produced goals for Vermaelan and Gallas. This time the delivery was poor and harmless.
Robin van Persie had a shot well saved by Foster, a free kick finger tipped on to the bar and a goal disallowed. Not a bad day at the office for the Dutchman and one that on another day would have seen one of them converted. Three efforts on target. Three more than United yet the ‘pundits’ try and tell us that United won because they were more experienced and ‘better.’
United’s second goal. Great header by Diaby but it was a free header. Had he done his job and just cleared the bloody thing everyone would have moaned about the delivery. But because they scored out come the tired old clichés about that old war horse Giggs and how you can rely on players like him to step up to the plate.
A fine line indeed between hero and zero.
United fans lack of class
And then we come to the scummy mugs who populate Old Trafford singing THAT song about Arsene Wenger. Let’s just say this. Had it been Arsenal fans singing songs about runways, ice and Munich those muppets would have been up in arms as would the media. Big club maybe but their fans certainly lack class.
Dean bottle's it
Do refs need to have ever played football in their lives? Do they go on courses where they are taught to see the game as just that. A game. Not just a set of rules to be administered come what may. William Shakespeare broke what few language rules there were and yet he has a fair old legacy.
Rules are not made to be broken of course but sending Wenger to the stand because he kicked a water bottle in frustration smacks of little hitlerism. Dean sent him off 'cos he could. Not because it made sense, not because it was seconds left on the clock. He did it to say look at me, look at my power like an over officious, small minded traffic warden.
Perhaps in UEFA's new found spirit of second guessing match officials we can see this pathetic decision overturned?
But Dean was right to book Eboue. The Ivory Coast space filler showed the odd good touch esterday but he's still crap and his dive just days after the Eduardo incident shows the odd brain cell that inhabitats his skull must find life pretty lonely what with so little company up there. Leave the dives to Flipper...
Rules are not made to be broken of course but sending Wenger to the stand because he kicked a water bottle in frustration smacks of little hitlerism. Dean sent him off 'cos he could. Not because it made sense, not because it was seconds left on the clock. He did it to say look at me, look at my power like an over officious, small minded traffic warden.
Perhaps in UEFA's new found spirit of second guessing match officials we can see this pathetic decision overturned?
But Dean was right to book Eboue. The Ivory Coast space filler showed the odd good touch esterday but he's still crap and his dive just days after the Eduardo incident shows the odd brain cell that inhabitats his skull must find life pretty lonely what with so little company up there. Leave the dives to Flipper...
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Charging Eduardo
If I recall correctly UEFA are against using video evidence. So why pray tell are they using something they don't approve of to throw the book at Arsenal striker Eduardo? Why didn't they retroactively charge that simian Taylor, the man who twisted Eduardo's leg in two and nearly ended his career?
Populism. UEFA are not taking a lead here, they are reacting to headlines in newspapers and on TV. They are saying the referee's decision is no longer final. At half time, while the Celtic keeper was ranting and raving the ref clearly showed that he felt the keeper had made contact with Eduardo.
The ref got it wrong as TV later proved but are we now going to see every single bloody decision rexamined just cos the media kick up a hoo ha? Who runs the game, UEFA or the press?
All those times Ronaldo got away with diving are conveniently forgotten, UEFA has a scapegoat and they are about to make themselves look like right twats because they are following and not leading.
Are we going to see players retroactively given yellow or red cards because of a media circus? Are we going to see the ref's authority on the field undermined because of a few headlines.
Charding Eduardo is a sorry day for football.
Populism. UEFA are not taking a lead here, they are reacting to headlines in newspapers and on TV. They are saying the referee's decision is no longer final. At half time, while the Celtic keeper was ranting and raving the ref clearly showed that he felt the keeper had made contact with Eduardo.
The ref got it wrong as TV later proved but are we now going to see every single bloody decision rexamined just cos the media kick up a hoo ha? Who runs the game, UEFA or the press?
All those times Ronaldo got away with diving are conveniently forgotten, UEFA has a scapegoat and they are about to make themselves look like right twats because they are following and not leading.
Are we going to see players retroactively given yellow or red cards because of a media circus? Are we going to see the ref's authority on the field undermined because of a few headlines.
Charding Eduardo is a sorry day for football.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
The hooligans go marching on
The hooligans go marching on
Now there's a surprise. Whoever would have guessed the fans from West Ham United and Millwall would have got together to settle some old scores last before, during and after their League Cup tie. Given the bad blood that exists between these two sets of supporters it was always going to happen. It was just a question of degree.
Football fighting has never gone away and the reason it stays with us is dead simple. People enjoy it. They enjoy the dressing up, they enjoy the banter, they enjoy the thought that their evening could end up giving or receiving a bloody good hiding. Forget all the bullshit the shrinks come out with at times like this. It's a laugh.
You can be sure for days before the clash the pubs around the east end and south of the river were buzzing about this game. About who was going to meet who and where.
Making games all ticket just shifts the aggro off the terraces. Making stadiums members only is fine and you will always ban a few fans for life that way but they'll still get up to mischief away from the ground if called upon.
Hooliganism seems to have been around forever and there are probably young men out there who were involved in last night's action who have had the buzz passed down from father to son. It's in their jeans. It's what they do innit?
It ain't always about having a dead end job with a shit life. People with good jobs are also known to swing a punch or pool cue. Explain that one you boffins.
Now of course we have a new breed of hooligan. The retired old hand. Back in the day players were the heroes but there was still a sense of approachability about them. Old Arsenal boys telling me about meeting the likes of Charlie George and Tony Adams in bars round North London after they had finished training and they were always willing for a chat with supporters.
Not today. You see these muggy players when they get off the team bus. Kitted in shell suits, looking mean and moody, locked away in their own personal i-pod world they hardly invite interaction with the outside world do they?
It was Ashley Cole who perhaps best illustrated how far the divide had grown between players and fans when he gleefully bragged in his pointless autobiography how he had nearly driven off the road after hearing Arsenal's offer of a 5 grand a week pay rise. Only 5 grand a week, only an extra quarter of a million a year. Tell it to those on mortgages Ash.
More recently of course we had Liverpool midfielder Steven Gerrard actually in a bar. But apparently he took offense at the music being played and decided to slap some guy a few times. Then have his mates join in. good friendly stuff.
Into the void stepped thug-lit. One time thugs, retired terrace heroes told their tales of daring do, never done, never run heroics back in the days of inter city specials and pay on the gate games. Write a book, make a t shirt, hey connect with the people you grew up with and suddenly the shelves of WH Smiths were straining under the pressure of these hoolie tales.
A circuit developed where these bovver boys would travel the country, have a jar with some folk who paid to meet them and sell a few more books. Throw in a question and answer session, everyone has a few beers and all go home after a very pleasant night out. While the players live in their celebrity wonderland, sipping in their exclusive clubs and sleeping in their gated communities far from the riff raff.
Everyone loves a rebel. Most people lead such dull, conformist lives where initiative is crushed out of them by the need to pay the mortgage and not upset the pricks at number 47. On life support machines they look to others for their kicks. Some see celebs as rebels. Others see musicians while yet others see people kicking the crap out of each other and wish they had the balls.
Most of us are pretty vacant when it comes down to it.
Now there's a surprise. Whoever would have guessed the fans from West Ham United and Millwall would have got together to settle some old scores last before, during and after their League Cup tie. Given the bad blood that exists between these two sets of supporters it was always going to happen. It was just a question of degree.
Football fighting has never gone away and the reason it stays with us is dead simple. People enjoy it. They enjoy the dressing up, they enjoy the banter, they enjoy the thought that their evening could end up giving or receiving a bloody good hiding. Forget all the bullshit the shrinks come out with at times like this. It's a laugh.
You can be sure for days before the clash the pubs around the east end and south of the river were buzzing about this game. About who was going to meet who and where.
Making games all ticket just shifts the aggro off the terraces. Making stadiums members only is fine and you will always ban a few fans for life that way but they'll still get up to mischief away from the ground if called upon.
Hooliganism seems to have been around forever and there are probably young men out there who were involved in last night's action who have had the buzz passed down from father to son. It's in their jeans. It's what they do innit?
It ain't always about having a dead end job with a shit life. People with good jobs are also known to swing a punch or pool cue. Explain that one you boffins.
Now of course we have a new breed of hooligan. The retired old hand. Back in the day players were the heroes but there was still a sense of approachability about them. Old Arsenal boys telling me about meeting the likes of Charlie George and Tony Adams in bars round North London after they had finished training and they were always willing for a chat with supporters.
Not today. You see these muggy players when they get off the team bus. Kitted in shell suits, looking mean and moody, locked away in their own personal i-pod world they hardly invite interaction with the outside world do they?
It was Ashley Cole who perhaps best illustrated how far the divide had grown between players and fans when he gleefully bragged in his pointless autobiography how he had nearly driven off the road after hearing Arsenal's offer of a 5 grand a week pay rise. Only 5 grand a week, only an extra quarter of a million a year. Tell it to those on mortgages Ash.
More recently of course we had Liverpool midfielder Steven Gerrard actually in a bar. But apparently he took offense at the music being played and decided to slap some guy a few times. Then have his mates join in. good friendly stuff.
Into the void stepped thug-lit. One time thugs, retired terrace heroes told their tales of daring do, never done, never run heroics back in the days of inter city specials and pay on the gate games. Write a book, make a t shirt, hey connect with the people you grew up with and suddenly the shelves of WH Smiths were straining under the pressure of these hoolie tales.
A circuit developed where these bovver boys would travel the country, have a jar with some folk who paid to meet them and sell a few more books. Throw in a question and answer session, everyone has a few beers and all go home after a very pleasant night out. While the players live in their celebrity wonderland, sipping in their exclusive clubs and sleeping in their gated communities far from the riff raff.
Everyone loves a rebel. Most people lead such dull, conformist lives where initiative is crushed out of them by the need to pay the mortgage and not upset the pricks at number 47. On life support machines they look to others for their kicks. Some see celebs as rebels. Others see musicians while yet others see people kicking the crap out of each other and wish they had the balls.
Most of us are pretty vacant when it comes down to it.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Following the herd
Taken from the Independent
One of the old traditions already appears in place. The "lucky Arsenal" tag is more than 70 years old, but seemed as relevant as ever on Saturday. Not only did Bennett exonerate Gallas, when on another day he could easily have been dismissed, there was a suspicion of offside about the Gunners' first and third goals. Furthermore, Gallas, having inadvertently scored off his back at Celtic in midweek, fluked the latter strike as well, off his calf and face.
It's about time we had some luck. the old lady seems to have deserted us over the last few years. But instead of giving the Arsenal some praise for three straight wins, with 12 goals in the process, the media instead get all gooey over Tottenham and say how lucky we have been.
'Cos of course we never deserved to beat either Everton, Celtic or Pompey. In fact if it wasn't for our fortuitous 12 goals we would probably have lost all three games. In fact one guy, who gets paid for this, says that had Gallas been sent off Pompey would probably won the game.
And if my Uncle Dick had a fanny he'd have been my Auntie Dick.
Jeez. Tottenham have beaten mighty Hull, average West Ham and a wierd Liverpool. So why the hype for them? Why the collective crawling in some sections of the media. We know what's gonna happen. They will implode as they do every bloody year.
Bloody hell, they're trying to kid us that Roman, Robbie, Robot man and Defore are the best strike force in the Premier League.
I guess they're pissed, having consigned to a top 6 position they don't want to lose face.
We've won nothing, far from it, but we have rubbed some faces in the ground...and they don't like it, do they?
One of the old traditions already appears in place. The "lucky Arsenal" tag is more than 70 years old, but seemed as relevant as ever on Saturday. Not only did Bennett exonerate Gallas, when on another day he could easily have been dismissed, there was a suspicion of offside about the Gunners' first and third goals. Furthermore, Gallas, having inadvertently scored off his back at Celtic in midweek, fluked the latter strike as well, off his calf and face.
It's about time we had some luck. the old lady seems to have deserted us over the last few years. But instead of giving the Arsenal some praise for three straight wins, with 12 goals in the process, the media instead get all gooey over Tottenham and say how lucky we have been.
'Cos of course we never deserved to beat either Everton, Celtic or Pompey. In fact if it wasn't for our fortuitous 12 goals we would probably have lost all three games. In fact one guy, who gets paid for this, says that had Gallas been sent off Pompey would probably won the game.
And if my Uncle Dick had a fanny he'd have been my Auntie Dick.
Jeez. Tottenham have beaten mighty Hull, average West Ham and a wierd Liverpool. So why the hype for them? Why the collective crawling in some sections of the media. We know what's gonna happen. They will implode as they do every bloody year.
Bloody hell, they're trying to kid us that Roman, Robbie, Robot man and Defore are the best strike force in the Premier League.
I guess they're pissed, having consigned to a top 6 position they don't want to lose face.
We've won nothing, far from it, but we have rubbed some faces in the ground...and they don't like it, do they?
Sunday, August 23, 2009
10 Great Songs
Inspired by something similar I read in the Independent I have drawn up my own top 10 songs or chants I have heard at games
From my school days
1 –
We hate Andy Pandy and we hate Bill and Ben
We hate Ken Dodd and his silly little men
We went down Playschool and smashed up the toys
‘cos we are the Grove School Boot Boys
From the North Bank, Highbury to Peter Shilton after he had been caught with his trousers down
2 –
If you all had Tina clap your hands
If you all had Tina clap your hands
If you all had Tina, all had Tina, all had Tina
Clap your hands
Tottenham innit
3 –
Cheer up Martin Jol
Oh what can it mean
To a fat Tottenham bastard
And a shit football team
4 –
I will survive
5 –
Is it a fire drill
From my Aussie days, directed at John Kosmina at a NSW State League game between Sutherland Shire Soccer Sharks and St George
6 –
If you shagged Kossie’s missus clap your hands
If you shagged Kossie’s missus clap your hands
If you shagged Kossie’s missus, If you shagged Kossie’s missus
Clap your hands
To which Kossie replied ‘yeah and I shagged your sister. Wanna swap?’
When Pele turned up at an NSL game between St George and Marconi. Zoran Ilic...what more can be said?
7 –
We all agree Ilic is better than Pele
8 –
You’ll never play for St George
9 –
You fill up my senses
Like a gallon of Magnet
Like a packet of Woodbines
Like a good pinch of snuff
Like a night out in Sheffield
Like a greasy chip butty
Like Sheffield United
Come fill me again....
Na Na Na Naa Naa Naaaaa, ooo!
Persija fans away from home singing You'll Never Walk Alone. In Indonesian!
10 –
Kamu takkan pernah jalan sendiri
From my school days
1 –
We hate Andy Pandy and we hate Bill and Ben
We hate Ken Dodd and his silly little men
We went down Playschool and smashed up the toys
‘cos we are the Grove School Boot Boys
From the North Bank, Highbury to Peter Shilton after he had been caught with his trousers down
2 –
If you all had Tina clap your hands
If you all had Tina clap your hands
If you all had Tina, all had Tina, all had Tina
Clap your hands
Tottenham innit
3 –
Cheer up Martin Jol
Oh what can it mean
To a fat Tottenham bastard
And a shit football team
4 –
I will survive
5 –
Is it a fire drill
From my Aussie days, directed at John Kosmina at a NSW State League game between Sutherland Shire Soccer Sharks and St George
6 –
If you shagged Kossie’s missus clap your hands
If you shagged Kossie’s missus clap your hands
If you shagged Kossie’s missus, If you shagged Kossie’s missus
Clap your hands
To which Kossie replied ‘yeah and I shagged your sister. Wanna swap?’
When Pele turned up at an NSL game between St George and Marconi. Zoran Ilic...what more can be said?
7 –
We all agree Ilic is better than Pele
8 –
You’ll never play for St George
9 –
You fill up my senses
Like a gallon of Magnet
Like a packet of Woodbines
Like a good pinch of snuff
Like a night out in Sheffield
Like a greasy chip butty
Like Sheffield United
Come fill me again....
Na Na Na Naa Naa Naaaaa, ooo!
Persija fans away from home singing You'll Never Walk Alone. In Indonesian!
10 –
Kamu takkan pernah jalan sendiri
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
It's grim up north
Back in the first season of league football in 1888/1889, a time of northern shit pits, TS Lowry and a smoke covered industrial wasteland there were 6 sides from the north west out of 12 original competitors. There was Everton, Blackburn Rovers and Bolton Wanderers. And Accrington Stanley, Preston North End and Burnley.
The north west with it's chimney stacks and mill towns was the heart of English football and it was Preston, Proud Preston, who ended that first season as unbeaten champions.
Fast forward 121 seasons and still clubs in the region dominate at the highest level. We have the new age giants of the M62, Manchester United and Liverpool who have won trophy after trophy in the last 40 odd years. Their lesser city cousins, Manchester City and Everton. Forever bridesmaids City and perhaps destined to remain that way despite the petrodollars being sunk into them. And Everton. The club that gives out toffees and still plays the theme from Z Cars despite the fact much of their support never saw the show.
Blackburn Rovers and Bolton Wanderers seem to be accepted as part of the Premier League but Rovers only returned to the big time thanks to Jack Walker's steel bucks while Bolton, forever damned for giving us Big Sam, seem to be counting the days before slipping back into the oblivion where they belong.
But what about Wigan Athletic? Rugby league town, overspill for Liverpool and Manchester, who ever would have thought they would not only land up there with the big boys but stick around a while. Bloody Wigan!
They arrived in the professional game in 78, replacing Southport and seemed destined for lower division anonymity. But along comes some sugar daddy, former Blackburn Rovers player, pumps in the cash and Wigan rise. And rise. And rise. And to cap it all in Roberto Martinez they have appointed a very promising manager indeed.
Burnley are back. Unabashed sentimalist that I am, as long as the Arse ain't losing, it's great to see them back. Back in the early 60s, before my time, they came agonisingly close to a domestic double with a team filled, if memory serves, with local lads from the terraced back to backs that filled the urban landscape.
The north east never seems to get it's act together for long enough to mount a title bid while Middlesbrough, Sunderland Newcastle take it in turns to yo yo between the top two divisions. A similar story in the West Midlands where West Brom are taking a gap year before returning to the top flight while fellow Black Country boys Wolves take their place.
The north west with it's chimney stacks and mill towns was the heart of English football and it was Preston, Proud Preston, who ended that first season as unbeaten champions.
Fast forward 121 seasons and still clubs in the region dominate at the highest level. We have the new age giants of the M62, Manchester United and Liverpool who have won trophy after trophy in the last 40 odd years. Their lesser city cousins, Manchester City and Everton. Forever bridesmaids City and perhaps destined to remain that way despite the petrodollars being sunk into them. And Everton. The club that gives out toffees and still plays the theme from Z Cars despite the fact much of their support never saw the show.
Blackburn Rovers and Bolton Wanderers seem to be accepted as part of the Premier League but Rovers only returned to the big time thanks to Jack Walker's steel bucks while Bolton, forever damned for giving us Big Sam, seem to be counting the days before slipping back into the oblivion where they belong.
But what about Wigan Athletic? Rugby league town, overspill for Liverpool and Manchester, who ever would have thought they would not only land up there with the big boys but stick around a while. Bloody Wigan!
They arrived in the professional game in 78, replacing Southport and seemed destined for lower division anonymity. But along comes some sugar daddy, former Blackburn Rovers player, pumps in the cash and Wigan rise. And rise. And rise. And to cap it all in Roberto Martinez they have appointed a very promising manager indeed.
Burnley are back. Unabashed sentimalist that I am, as long as the Arse ain't losing, it's great to see them back. Back in the early 60s, before my time, they came agonisingly close to a domestic double with a team filled, if memory serves, with local lads from the terraced back to backs that filled the urban landscape.
The north east never seems to get it's act together for long enough to mount a title bid while Middlesbrough, Sunderland Newcastle take it in turns to yo yo between the top two divisions. A similar story in the West Midlands where West Brom are taking a gap year before returning to the top flight while fellow Black Country boys Wolves take their place.
All that training pays off
Arsene Wenger this morning looks back on last night's 2-0 victory over Celtic and must be delighted to see that all that hard work pre season on the training pitch has worked off.
The first goal came from William Gallas, his second in two games, as he tried ever so hard to get out the way of a free kick. The ball deflected off his back, just like in training, and it was 1-0 to the Arsenal. The second goal was an og.
You can imagine Celtic boss Tony Mowbray being gutted at conceding two poncey goals like them but hey, that's football. He wanted the job, get over it.
Celtic never really threatened and Arsenal's defence looked impressive. And it was good to see we sat back and then counuered alot more, especially second half, than we have done in recent, barren, seasons when we have been camped into our opponents half desperately seeking space.
The first goal came from William Gallas, his second in two games, as he tried ever so hard to get out the way of a free kick. The ball deflected off his back, just like in training, and it was 1-0 to the Arsenal. The second goal was an og.
You can imagine Celtic boss Tony Mowbray being gutted at conceding two poncey goals like them but hey, that's football. He wanted the job, get over it.
Celtic never really threatened and Arsenal's defence looked impressive. And it was good to see we sat back and then counuered alot more, especially second half, than we have done in recent, barren, seasons when we have been camped into our opponents half desperately seeking space.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Ya, boo, hiss, sucks
Great. The football is back and we get to see more images of fans biting their fingernails as defeat looms. And, for good measure, we were shown images of fans leaving Goodison Park and Villa Park in their thousands as defeat looms. Before they headed home we got the obligatory boos.
Some fans will tell you that they pays their money, if they wanna boo then they bloody well will. Maybe it's age but I don't recall fans in the past being so quick to judge. Booing in the second half of the first home game of the season shows up some fans for what they are. Mealy mouthed mugs brought up on 606 and anonymous postings on message boards.
Accuse them of that of course and they will point to their 'proud' history of supporting their club.
You should never boo your own. If you wanna slag 'em off then do so at home, not inside the bloody stadium. And not on the first day of the season.
Some fans will tell you that they pays their money, if they wanna boo then they bloody well will. Maybe it's age but I don't recall fans in the past being so quick to judge. Booing in the second half of the first home game of the season shows up some fans for what they are. Mealy mouthed mugs brought up on 606 and anonymous postings on message boards.
Accuse them of that of course and they will point to their 'proud' history of supporting their club.
You should never boo your own. If you wanna slag 'em off then do so at home, not inside the bloody stadium. And not on the first day of the season.
The logic of Rafa
Being a football manager is a precarious career choice. You know that one day you'll be out on your ear, possibly after a not so reassuring vote of confidence. You are after all hired to be fired. And before you get that far be prepared from every smart alec fan and pundit who thinks he knows your job better than you.
Step forward please Rafael Benetiz, the Spaniard manager of Liverpool with the goatee who looks like a waiter in a wartime cafe in occupied France.
Liverpool fans I have spoken to love the guy but perhaps they're still living in 2005, Milan and all that.
But for now, and the foreseeable future I cannot see Liverpool winning the Premier League all the while he is running the club.
Seriously, there are times when he sounds like he's from another planet. Yes, I know managers like to wrap their precious players in cotton wool in case anyone should say anything negative about them. But his comments after losing to Tottenham at the weekend crossed the line from acceptable to downright rude.
I believe the FA started some kind of respect campaign last season. Something about showing them poor match officials a bit of leniency once in a while and not just jumping on their back every time they get a decision wrong.
Rafa calling the 4th official at White Hart Lane 'too young' was patronising and disrespectful. Match officials don't have the right of reply in public of course. In private they meet down the Blind Beggar and drive needles in effegies of Wenger, Rafa and Fergie before vomiting on a card board cut out Goodison Park.
But I'm sure that if the refs could answer back they might have a few choice words for the waiter. Like why would you go and sell one of your three best players? Why have you got so much dross in your team?
Selling Xabi Alonso was very different to the Arsenal selling Emmanuel Adebayor. The Togolese striker's ego was far bigger than his size 15s and his peronality didn't gel in the dressing room. He went missing in big games and when you sell the weakest link you can only strengthen the squad.
But Alonso wasn't a whinging tart as far as I could make out. And he did a bit on the pitch as well.
Selling a player like him when you only have limited quality at your disposal doesn't make much football sense. Unless Rafa, after whinging about Gareth Barry earlier in the summer, and the board were being greedy.
Liverpool will still finish in the top four. There will be enough dodgy penalties in their favour, especially at home. But if anyone is likely to fall from the supposed big 4 it is them unless some drastic surgery is carried out.
Step forward please Rafael Benetiz, the Spaniard manager of Liverpool with the goatee who looks like a waiter in a wartime cafe in occupied France.
Liverpool fans I have spoken to love the guy but perhaps they're still living in 2005, Milan and all that.
But for now, and the foreseeable future I cannot see Liverpool winning the Premier League all the while he is running the club.
Seriously, there are times when he sounds like he's from another planet. Yes, I know managers like to wrap their precious players in cotton wool in case anyone should say anything negative about them. But his comments after losing to Tottenham at the weekend crossed the line from acceptable to downright rude.
I believe the FA started some kind of respect campaign last season. Something about showing them poor match officials a bit of leniency once in a while and not just jumping on their back every time they get a decision wrong.
Rafa calling the 4th official at White Hart Lane 'too young' was patronising and disrespectful. Match officials don't have the right of reply in public of course. In private they meet down the Blind Beggar and drive needles in effegies of Wenger, Rafa and Fergie before vomiting on a card board cut out Goodison Park.
But I'm sure that if the refs could answer back they might have a few choice words for the waiter. Like why would you go and sell one of your three best players? Why have you got so much dross in your team?
Selling Xabi Alonso was very different to the Arsenal selling Emmanuel Adebayor. The Togolese striker's ego was far bigger than his size 15s and his peronality didn't gel in the dressing room. He went missing in big games and when you sell the weakest link you can only strengthen the squad.
But Alonso wasn't a whinging tart as far as I could make out. And he did a bit on the pitch as well.
Selling a player like him when you only have limited quality at your disposal doesn't make much football sense. Unless Rafa, after whinging about Gareth Barry earlier in the summer, and the board were being greedy.
Liverpool will still finish in the top four. There will be enough dodgy penalties in their favour, especially at home. But if anyone is likely to fall from the supposed big 4 it is them unless some drastic surgery is carried out.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Hleb speak with forked tounge
Aleksander Hleb, in my humble opinion, was one of Arsene Wenger's worst signings for the Arsenal. As he was leaving Germany where he had starred with VfB Stuttgart, Franz Beckanbauer, who knows a thing or two about football, decried the loss of the best dribbler in the Bundesliga.
So he arrived at the Arsenal with a reputation and what an inovater he proved as he introduced English football to dead end football. We'd seen the glory game, flashes of total football and of course the long ball but Hleb gave football new meaning with his eye for the impossible.
My abiding image of the Belarus international is of him outside the penalty area surrounded by defenders. He would spot the run of a colleague into the penalty area, a penalty area packed with defenders, and play through a slide rule pass for his mate to run onto.
It's the kind of move that works perfectly on paper where movement is replaced by arrows and defenders are blobs that don't move. But on grass where football tends to be played those defenders have this annoying ability of moving. And once they sussed Hleb was little more than a one trick pony they were on to him.
For an attacking midfielder he was reluctant to shoot and reluctant to create too many clear cut chances, instead preferring his own intricate game of chess which, to be fair, could run rings round the likes of Reading but was actually useless against teams who could play a bit.
I celebrated last season when he moved to Spain and joined Barcelona. Being a Gooner of 40 years I knew the old adage. Leaving the Arse does not improve your career.
But Hleb knew everything. Rather like some backpacker arriving in Thailand for the first time he was seduced the percieved glamour of his new surroundings and the people with who he mixed. Frequently he would be interviewed in the media and would use the opportunity to tell his former team mates like Cesc Fabregas and Emmanuel Adebayor to come and join him.
Reality soon crept in as the Barca coaches soon realised what a crock of shite they had signed and he spent more time on the bench than the physio.
By the end of the season where Barca had ruled the roost Hleb was like Private Spong in Dad's Army; always hanging round with the stars but really just there to make up the numbers.
And now he's back in Stuttgart and now his whines take on a different tone. He should never have left the Arsenal, he says, he was working with one of the best managers in the world. We of course knew all this. But I for one was happy to see him leave and am now happy to see he fucked up.
So he arrived at the Arsenal with a reputation and what an inovater he proved as he introduced English football to dead end football. We'd seen the glory game, flashes of total football and of course the long ball but Hleb gave football new meaning with his eye for the impossible.
My abiding image of the Belarus international is of him outside the penalty area surrounded by defenders. He would spot the run of a colleague into the penalty area, a penalty area packed with defenders, and play through a slide rule pass for his mate to run onto.
It's the kind of move that works perfectly on paper where movement is replaced by arrows and defenders are blobs that don't move. But on grass where football tends to be played those defenders have this annoying ability of moving. And once they sussed Hleb was little more than a one trick pony they were on to him.
For an attacking midfielder he was reluctant to shoot and reluctant to create too many clear cut chances, instead preferring his own intricate game of chess which, to be fair, could run rings round the likes of Reading but was actually useless against teams who could play a bit.
I celebrated last season when he moved to Spain and joined Barcelona. Being a Gooner of 40 years I knew the old adage. Leaving the Arse does not improve your career.
But Hleb knew everything. Rather like some backpacker arriving in Thailand for the first time he was seduced the percieved glamour of his new surroundings and the people with who he mixed. Frequently he would be interviewed in the media and would use the opportunity to tell his former team mates like Cesc Fabregas and Emmanuel Adebayor to come and join him.
Reality soon crept in as the Barca coaches soon realised what a crock of shite they had signed and he spent more time on the bench than the physio.
By the end of the season where Barca had ruled the roost Hleb was like Private Spong in Dad's Army; always hanging round with the stars but really just there to make up the numbers.
And now he's back in Stuttgart and now his whines take on a different tone. He should never have left the Arsenal, he says, he was working with one of the best managers in the world. We of course knew all this. But I for one was happy to see him leave and am now happy to see he fucked up.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Six days to go
Finally, the real action, I am an Arsenal fan so no disrespect to followers of non Premier League teams, begins on Saturday and football will dominate the headlines, blogs and forums.
Gotta say I'm bored with the endless will he/won't he transfer sagas, over analysis of meaningless friendlies. the Community Shield, blank sports reports desperate for copy but lacking anything substantive.
Predictions? Last year I said it was between Manchester United and Arsenal and while I was half right I see no reason to change this time round. Liverpool seem to have prioritised brand building in south east Asia over team building and wll not last the pace. Just not enough quality in the first choice II.
Chelsea? How long have most of them gits been together now? Who was it that said a good football team has three seasons together. Chelsea's spine, Cech, Terry, Essien, Lampard and Drogba needs spicing up.
Manchester City? Don't make me laugh. Mark Hughes has been like a kid in the candy store and is already going for the old 'us against them' line as his club gets plenty of brickbats but little in the way of credit. Football is, well used to be, about players, not money and Hughsie is about to learn that lesson the hard way.
Aston Villa? Again, lack of real quality. Plenty of good players in the team but very few class players.
Nope, it's betwen Fergie and Wenger. Again.
Gotta say I'm bored with the endless will he/won't he transfer sagas, over analysis of meaningless friendlies. the Community Shield, blank sports reports desperate for copy but lacking anything substantive.
Predictions? Last year I said it was between Manchester United and Arsenal and while I was half right I see no reason to change this time round. Liverpool seem to have prioritised brand building in south east Asia over team building and wll not last the pace. Just not enough quality in the first choice II.
Chelsea? How long have most of them gits been together now? Who was it that said a good football team has three seasons together. Chelsea's spine, Cech, Terry, Essien, Lampard and Drogba needs spicing up.
Manchester City? Don't make me laugh. Mark Hughes has been like a kid in the candy store and is already going for the old 'us against them' line as his club gets plenty of brickbats but little in the way of credit. Football is, well used to be, about players, not money and Hughsie is about to learn that lesson the hard way.
Aston Villa? Again, lack of real quality. Plenty of good players in the team but very few class players.
Nope, it's betwen Fergie and Wenger. Again.
April 1st comes late
This story has Chelsea paying 45 million quid to AC Milan for 19 year old striker Alexandre Pato then loaning him back to the Italians for a season. Eh? Like here's the money guys but tell you what, you have the money and you can also keep the player for a bit longer. Chelsea are now a charity!
Of course the story comes from the News of the World which means it's a non starter anyway. Plus Pato is still a teenager. Way too young for Chelsea.
Of course the story comes from the News of the World which means it's a non starter anyway. Plus Pato is still a teenager. Way too young for Chelsea.
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