Filed under Football

Thanks for the inspiration, Blatter

Struggling for postaweek2011 inspiration, I considered finally turning to the WordPress Post A Week blog to get the creative juices flowing.

Unfortunately, I picked a day when they suggested I write about my least favourite school teacher. Don’t get me wrong – there’s plenty to go on – but I could only recall one teacher worth writing about and the only story worth recalling was when, having been asked to draw my interpretation of God, I put a monutmental amount of effort into reproducing a pixel-perfect version of the Street Fighter II character, Dhalsim.

If you didn’t spend an inordinate amount of your childhood button-bashing the SNES classic, this is what Dhalsim looks like:

Dhalsim

Suffice to say, she wasn’t particularly impressed. Nor is that a very interesting story (although it has given me an excuse to post a picture of Dhalsim on this blog, which probably won’t happen again).

Thankfully, inspiration came this afternoon from my friend and top football journo, Jefferson Lake (@jeffersonlake). What’s more, the blog it has inspired requires very little effort from me, as just a few words and a picture upload will suffice.

So, here we go.

Go on, pick one.

If a more pointless amount of time by a more pointless collection of people in a more pointless room has ever been spent, I’d like to hear about it.

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You can swear, Wayne… just be a bit nicer about it

Alex Ferguson has today blasted the FA for pressuring referee Lee Mason into reporting Wayne Rooney for his foul-mouthed rant at a Sky TV camera. According to the eternally obnoxious Scot, they ‘bullied’ Mason into doing it so that they could fine the player.

Quite an ironic surmise coming from one of the biggest bullies in football.

You know what I’d like to see from Ferguson? An admission. Just for once. Even Wayne made one, right after the game (although he quickly contradicted his statement with his ‘they’re out to get me’ comments after the Chelsea match), labelling his tirade inappropriate and not for the ears of the young kids watching.

His manager is pinning everything on the fact that his star player has been banned ‘for swearing’, but he misses the point entirely. It was for the aggression shown, and that is something Rooney needs to curb in most areas of his game. If he’s not swearing at the camera, he’s stomping around the pitch, flinging his arms in the air at any accidentally misplaced pass. I can’t think of a more uninspiring way to play alongside your team mates. Put simply, and in a language he’ll understand, he’s a little shit who needs to grow up. If Ferguson had admitted that the player needs to adjust his attitude a bit and drop the unpleasant high level of aggression, instead of making out that the world is out to get Utd, he’d garner far more respect from people like me.

There’s nothing wrong with aggression or arrogance in sport, but Rooney, his manager and Manchester Utd need to drop their biblical levels of it if they’re ever to have the slightest glimmer of respect from anyone but their fans.

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Torres and Carroll

Torres: Boom or bust for ChelseaJust realised I’ve neglected to post an opinion on the big transfer deadline news this week. To have a blog is to offer an opinion and I have one on this subject. It would therefore be neglectful of me not to post it.

It’ll be brief though. Partly because few people give a toss what I think but also because I’m trying to watch Fulham vs Newcastle.

Torres: A pretty high price for a player who has looked decidedly out of sorts in the last 12 months. It’s possible he’s sulked his way out of Anfield and is waiting to unleash his usually barnstorming form at Stamford Bridge, therefore this Abramovich-inspired transfer is the one to watch of the two. Oh, and I’d imagine those in blue shirts won’t see Drogba for dust in the summer.

Carroll: £35m? His worth to Newcastle fans, yes, possibly, but in reality? No. Another stark example of just how far football’s head is up its own arse and how much the game has lost touch with reality. On this basis, I’ve got to be worth a couple of grand. And I’m a little disappointed Kenny didn’t come knocking after this display of manic panic buying.

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Any excuse would have done, Sky

Eventually, it took a bit of male chauvinist banter. An off-guard comment. Pub talk between two members of a generation which isn’t quite as forgotten as people clearly believe it is.

Whatever. Andy Gray will no longer be presenting football on Sky Sports and that can only be a good thing.

Yes, it was a daft thing to say. Unfair, too, in what is a society desperately trying to make equality a thing of reality. Although, as a friend on Facebook rightly pointed out, such a society is a bit of a con when you’ve got male-bashing/ridiculing garbage such as Loose Women and Take Me Out on the box.

So, I won’t be praising the sensationalist headlines we’ll see tomorrow, nor will I comment any further on the reason Sky Sports’ face of football will forever be absent from future Super Sundays. No, I’ll simply be glad to see the back of him.

Regularly occupying more audio space than the commentator, he sensationalised every minor display of skill and invented new words for free kicks sent successfully goalwards. It was needless and dull beyond belief. I would often pray for just a few seconds of silence. Enough to hear the THUCK of boot meeting turf and ball. Maybe a crowd chant or two. But no, this guy could silence the Kop.

And, if we hadn’t already had enough of him during the game, he continued to bore and patronised us all to death with his increasingly complex touch screens and match analysis technofoolery (who’ll get to use that now? Is there even an instruction manual?).

His style had changed little since the early 90s but his massive air of self importance had grown every season. He WAS Sky Sports. I’m sure he thought he WAS football, too.

In reality, he was dead wood. The type of old furniture you find intrinsically woven into the upper echelons of any organisation.

Bye, Andy. Don’t bother taking a bow.

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Fancy a Game of 5-a-Side, Wayne?

Wayne Rooney

Image via Wikipedia

More than most of us would earn in a year… Some, in a lifetime… Obscene… Unfathomable… Other worldly… Ridiculous… The figures bandied about last week justified the resulting headlines, aggravated coffee-table discussions and lengthened trips to the water cooler. Depending on which newspaper pops through your letterbox, Rooney’s estimated earning potential if he moved to arch rivals Manchester City ranged anywhere from £200,000 to £500,000. Per week.

Such news is not as immediately shocking as it would have been ten years ago. Not in an age where we see players like Yaya Toure joining Manchester City for a reported £220,000 per week, or John Terry leisurely picking up £150K pay for a week nursing a bad back and fiddling with his co-worker’s girlfriends. No, we’re used to these figures. They’re dangerously close to becoming the norm. Indeed, I was surprised to hear Andy Carroll’s Newcastle wage rose to ‘only’ £30,000 per week after signing his new contract. I even felt a little bit sorry for the Tyneside front man.

Back to Rooney. Last week’s debacle left me under no doubt that my suspicions surrounding Wayne and his management team were entirely reasonable.

They’re as thick as two short planks. The lot of them.

Rooney’s agent, Paul Stretford, was hailed by a few to be a ‘genius’ after week-long discussions with Man Utd ended with their prized asset signing a new five-year deal worth, if you do some very rudimentary sums, around £40m.

I’m not sure how people came to that conclusion. Genius? If we apply that to his method of making money, yes. Fair enough. I’m sure he chewed on a very fat cigar last Friday.

PR genius? Er, no.

His first mistake was allowing any of this to go public. Footballers survive on one thing – fan loyalty. Once you lose the fans, you’re as good as gone. Therefore, relations between fan and player must be protected. Fans are the only constant in football and they’re the hardest to please; threatening the thin thread by which that relationship hangs is lunacy.

By arguing out such a vile contract dispute in full earshot of the entire world – one that is facing global economic problems – was distasteful, needless and downright stupid. Doing it during the week of the most important UK spending review in the last twenty years amounts to quite simply the most ignorant, insensitive, childish piece of PR I’ve ever witnessed. It wouldn’t compound the ill feeling, would it, Paul? Nah, ‘course not.

His second mistake was to encourage Rooney to insist his reasons for wanting to leave were down to a lack of club ambition. Doing so when you’ve hit rock bottom form-wise does nothing other than demonstrate how few brain cells you have limping around your vacuous cavern of a skull. Rooney hasn’t played well for months and, regardless of the reason behind it, is in no position to start demanding anything – least of all commitment – from a club he seems to have no problem distancing himself from the instant they refuse to  succumb to his wage demands.

And what about his fellow professionals? In one sweeping statement, he essentially labelled them all not-fit-for-purpose. That explains the flailing hand gestures whenever a pass or cross intended for him went awry (an irritating habit of Rooney’s which spilled into his England game and contributed in no small part to the subsequent dropping of Walcott from the World Cup squad).

There’s no doubting Rooney is potentially one of the best players this country has produced. But he is also one of the most petulant and displays a staggering inability to cope with being in the limelight.

If, as we keep being told, he simply wants to play football, I have a solution for him. Radical, but by far the safest for the already frail sanity of English football.

Quit. Live off your riches and play non-league football. Actually, why not five-a-side on Thursday nights for the local pub team? That way, Wayne gets his football fix and is free of the traps of the modern game.

And before you scoff at what sounds like a pointless, unworkable solution, just think: would we miss him? England wouldn’t. He’s been consistently the worst international performer for a long time and adds nothing to our team (I’m still waiting for someone to convince me otherwise). Would Utd miss him? On Sunday’s showing at Stoke, possibly not.

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Time to Lower Expectations and Ditch the Divine Right

As Ashley Cole stepped off the team coach on Sunday having earlier participated in England’s worst ever World Cup defeat, he laughed and joked casually with other members of the squad. This confirmed two things:

1. He really is thick as two short planks.

And

2. Our beloved England team have reached the end of an era.

The best suggestion I heard following the debacle we were subjected for on Sunday was that Premier League players should be banned from playing at international level. Instead, Championship players would get a chance to grace the world stage. And it makes sense. Not only would they display more passion, they’d be free of the traps bestowed upon our highest-paid stars. Traps of excessive fame and fortune which clearly give them a distorted view of their own footballing ability.

One thing has become abundantly clear over the last fortnight; not a single player in that England squad can ever be described as ‘world class’ ever again.

Take Wayne Rooney, who has unknowingly been poked at with the pointy end of my Tweets and Facebook status updates since the tournament began. He was hailed our talisman and the one player who would finally ignite the ability our team has to bring the World Cup home. An ability which has laid dormant since 1966.

In reality, he cast a lone, despondent shadow across every inch of pitch he covered. Which amounted to quite a lot, if truth be told. He simply kept running the wrong way; back into the congested midfield only to either a) foul someone, b) collide with Gerrard who was doing the exact same thing or c) give the ball away to the opposition.

The rate at which he did the latter was simply staggering.

This is a player who clearly had a big say in which of his team mates made it to South Africa. Walcott didn’t deserve to go but Rooney’s all too obvious reactions to every misplaced cross only served to help Capello make what must have been a difficult decision. I doubt it did Theo’s confidence much good, either.

By comparison, Rooney has played all four of England’s games at a tenth of Walcott’s effort during the qualifying campaign. The young lad who was unfairly taken to the last World Cup must be seething.

I don’t believe it’s the manager’s fault, regardless of some questionable substitutions and an insistence on playing a formation which didn’t lend itself to the players available. He simply seems to be saddled with the same guilt trip this country’s media lavishes on every England manager – whatever you do, don’t drop Wayne.

If we can hope for anything after this mess, its that Capello keeps the job he’s more than capable of fulfilling and becomes the one manager who shuns popular opinion and ditches the divine right. Rooney should play no more than a bit part until he proves he actually wants the caps which have come so easily to him thus far.

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Where do we go from here, Fabio?

Peter Crouch

Crouch scores for England. Again.

So, a less than convincing win against Egypt seals yet another worrying night of international football at Wembley.

The key question on everyone’s lips is what Capello does next. It’s a question all football fans have an answer to but a question that has been made all the more intriguing – and harder to answer – after last night’s performance.

England is unfortunately full of dull talent. Cole, Milner, Upson, Lampard Baines… they may all play well at club level but are utterly uninspiring when put on the world stage. Yes, even Baines, who had a passable game in the much hyped left back position.

What worried me last night is that several other players are creeping into that list. Gerrard, Rooney, Walcott… All three did little to convince me they deserve a starting place in South Africa this summer. Particulalry Rooney who, having put in another nonedescript, goal-less performance, was described by the eternally irritating Tyldsley as ‘our talisman’.

Sorry? He had better start scoring. That’s all that matters in his position and the brief nature of any major tournamnent.

Walcott – who I rate – was just poor at times. He constantly looks out of his depth. A real shame for a player who is sorely lacking in match practice at the moment and is vying for a place in one of the most hotly contested areas of the pitch.

Gerrard skulks around the park, rarely chasing lost balls or regaining possession he’s just given away. That’s not him, is it? What’s changed?

I’m the ultimate doom-and-gloom, pessimistic England fan, I admit, but we must all surely be mindful of the fact that our chances this summer don’t look great.

While we indeed have a manager full of intent and insistent on taming our overpaid footballers, something is still sorely missing; passion. On the pitch. Sordid affairs, clubs falling into administration and tails of gambling addiction are all recent, clear indicators of a sport which has completely lost it’s purpose.

Fabio’s right. These lads get too rich far too young and aside from the side effects we’ve seen splashed across the tabloids over recent weeks, there is one that remains forgotten – they’ve lost the passion and pride which should come naturally when selected to play for your country. Wayne Bridge’s decision to declare himself unavailable does nothing but cement this sorry fact.

Still… Roll on the World Cup.

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Capello Misses a Trick

Fabio Capello

Capello: 12 minutes. Done.

So, after exactly a week of every Tom, Dick and Harry lending their press-influenced views on the most boring scandal ever to grace football, it took Fabio Capello just 12 minutes to deliver the bad news to John Terry.

The Chelsea skipper will captain the England team no more.

I’m disappointed. Not in Capello (well, not entirely – read on to hear why); he did the only thing he could after the relentless media-led pressure we’ve witnessed over the last seven days. It didn’t matter how many people – like me – failed to see the connection between a footballer’s extra marital relations and his ability to captain the national team; there was simply no way Terry could continue to be captain with such a black cloud hanging over him. Capello did the right thing.

Incidentally, it wouldn’t surprise me if we’ve all actually forgotten what the offence was, exactly – it seems so irrelevant now.

I’m continually impressed by an England manager who clearly doesn’t mess about. While pressure undoubtedly led him to this decision, you can be sure he made it confidently, quickly and without a second thought of what anyone else might think. He wants to win the World Cup and doesn’t give a toss who he upsets on the way. I like that.

I don’t like his decision to simply realign the captaincy, though. Ferdinand? Really? He may have been second in line but has hardly played all season. When he was playing, he was hardly at the top of his game. Yes, he’s had a chequered past, too, but this isn’t the root cause of my dismay today.

If anything, Capello should be assessing whether or not Ferdinand is fit for a place in the World Cup squad at all, let alone lead it.

He’s missed a trick here, Capello. Gerrard should have taken Terry’s place. No?

I’m willing to be proved wrong though, Fabio. Please don’t let this uncharacteristically weak decision make a mockery of my praise for you above…

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John Terry: Sensationalism Gone Mad.

John Terry

John Terry: Enough Already

Yesterday, I drove roughly 350 miles. Along the majority of those congestion-strewn roads, I listened to Talksport. I usually do this while out on the road and it isn’t typically a problem. Yesterday, however, it was.

For a total of around 6 hours I was treated to one long, continuous debate about John Terry, his extra-marital relations and whether or not he should still be England captain.

Every DJ on the station (and not in the least Stan Collymore who I think may have been playing with himself whilst endlessly spurting pointless superlatives about the supposed forthcoming meeting between Terry and Capello; “Capello is a greatly morale man and will not at all be concerned with what John Terry does behind closed doors away from the big lights and spectacle of the beautiful game”) simply repeated their views again and again. As did the callers. And the guests. When all was said and done, there were only about 3 different views; they were simply regurgitated, modified and drawn out each time they were expressed. I literally had a headache as I finally turned into my street at the end of the day.

I’m not going to embellish on this massively boring subject too much further, but I will give my opinion.

What John Terry does off the pitch is his business and his business only. I find all the debate over the affair hugely uncomfortable. It’s clear us Brits have a massive problem with sex (more so than the US, I’d say) and are so easily appalled by anything relating to it that it is invariably made a big deal of when something like this happens.

He’s a great defender and a very good captain. What he does away from the pitch is totally irrelevant. End of story. The only reason this has been made front page news is because the way in which everything is sensationalised these days.

Whenever we approach a big tournament like the World Cup, the press in this country reach for their knives and start their level best to completely screw up any chance England have of doing well. Why wouldn’t they? We love wallowing in our own misery in this country; if England go out in the group stages they’ll sell lots more papers.

Finally, are footballers role models? No, of course they’re not. They swear, spit, fight, cheat and spunk their ridiculous earnings up the wall. Any notion that the are to be held on a pedestal by anyone is daft. Yes, kids admire them and want to be them, but that’s life, I’m afraid. I’m sure they want to be film stars, too, but how many parents would want their child to turn into Lindsey Lohan?

There we go. 463 words and I’m done.

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Sticks and Stones, Mr Savage

Robbie Savage. Girly Hair.

Robbie Savage. Don't say anything about his mum.

Eternally annoying footballer Robbie Savage was on the radio at lunch, complaining about the abuse which gets hurled at him from the stands during every game. Aside from deserving it, this unsurprising, pointless insight into the world of Mr Savage also drew a somewhat sensible counter argument from a listener: “40K per week? You can call me what you want.”

I couldn’t agree more. The old playground adage: ‘sticks and stones will break my bones…’, whilst firmly suited to the child-like Savage, really should have been considered before Radio 1 decided to give this story a significant amount of Newsbeat air time.

Who really cares what certain fans decide to shout at Beckham et al regarding their siblings or suggested penchant for action on the other side of the sexual fence? I certainly don’t. It certainly doesn’t detract from the beautiful game; most players appear to just get on with the job in hand.

The story was centred around the idea that, one day, a fan may well go a step too far and do some physical damage to a player.

Fair enough. No one wants that (unless it’s Gary Neville), but is that really a possibility? I think not. In this age of over-nannying there is very little chance of a tattooed, topless oik making it onto the pitch and successfully landing a punch square in Ryan Giggs’ face.

Would make for a superb Match Of The Day, mind…

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