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The Axis Of Evil

So, for those of us following clubs in the Championship and Millionaire League, there is an international break. For this I am truly grateful, as it gives me a break from the twin evils of football.

Never mind the perceived wrongs, such as Nouveau Riche clubs with squillions to spoff away, and forget nasty little thugs like Joey Barton. Ignore wobbly-eyed Directors of Taxi-Carnage like Dennis Wise, fat chairmen illegally swilling beer in the stands, new stadiums that resemble discount warehouses, expensive replica shirts every bloody season and clubs going bust for the want of a week of Frank Lampard's wages.

The true evils can be named, and they are available from a catering stand near you.

The terrible pie, and the badly stirred Bovril.

The luxuries of Championship Football

Amidst a day of talk concerning hundred-million-pound takeovers and player signings, and Arab businessmen deciding which of four clubs to pursue an 'interest' in, it gave one miniscule football fan, in the grand scheme of things, the chance to take stock and look at the wider view of the English game; the general direction of its development, and my club's participation in it.

The Magic of Neil

With turmoil on Tyneside, a brave new world at Manchester City, transfer sagas galore and, to top it off, all of us having to endure some England games, I thought I would reflect on an encounter with the grand old master of mirth that is...

Neil Warnock.

From the Messiah to the Moyesiah?

I always knew this was likely to happen... In a drizzle ridden summer peppered with rejections from transfer targets and garnished with board chaos, the most important staff contract at Everton Football Club quietly sits there, still unsigned.

Word is that Moyes will be extending his contract soon, but that has been the official line for months now; Newcastle United, searching high and low for a suitable replacement for Keegan, would be stupid not to look towards Goodison.

I am confident Moyes will stick with his band of brothers, but his failure to sign his new contract leaves him open to approaches from other Premier League suitors.

Barton Baiting and Moral High-ground

  When Joey Barton fought the law (and the law won), he gave up his right to play professional football. Barton's criminal record contains not just a solitary infringement of the law but many. Perhaps Barton's most gratuitous act of violence came when he assaulted of 15 year-old Everton fan in a pre-season tour of Thailand, how courageous.

Barton's status as one of the regulars at the Last Chance Saloon fails to garner any sympathy whatsoever from football fans, even those (I hope) affiliated with either Manchester City or Newcastle United. One has to question whether or not Keegan was actually acting in football's best interests when he gave Barton his sixth-or-so chance, which was cunningly veiled as a second chance in Keegan's post match interview.

Premiership owners. Heaven sent or Devils in disguise?

Premiership owners are a motley crew aren’t they. Whether it be saddling a club with debt, using their ground as a political safe house or undermining their fellow owner/the manager/chief executive they are certainly an interesting group. The past few years has seen an influx of foreign investment enjoying varying amounts of success and varying popularity.
 
So, Premiership chairman, are they heaven sent or devils in disguise?

Time for a breakaway league

Now that several English clubs have been taken over by foreigners it's time for a dramatic re-think of the league situation. The proposal from the Manchester City bloke Garry Cook of a league of only 14 clubs, with no relegation like the Major Leagues in the Good Ole U. S. of A. seems at first to be outrageous, but it's not without it's merits.

Let the big-time Charlies and their money from Gulf oil, Russian gas, Icelandic biscuits or American, er, American ugly fellas go and play on their own. Mr Cook and all his cronies can have their MegaBowlLeague, and we can have the Football League.

The lard-arsed chairmen, loaded Sheiks and Oligarchs, and megalomaniac Yanks can keep their 14 team closed shop. We'll have football back please.

Farewell Friend

Like many football fans throughout Britain I watched in amazement on Monday as Fergie smuggled Berbatov into Old Trafford while across Manchester Robinho became the most expensive player in British football history as the transfer window slammed shut.

But it was a far less glamorous deal that really interested Exeter fans as our promising young left back George Friend moved to Wolves on deadline day in an deal thought to be worth around £350k with plenty of additional fees. Wolves were thought to have faced stiff competition from other Premiership and Championship clubs to sign Friend but his transfer news came completely out of the blue for City fans.

Hands off! Doyle and Hunt are staying put

So Superman Sonko has gone up up and away, and Stephen Hunt and Kevin Doyle are staying. In fact, so is everyone else. Good. But why oh why were we made to chew our fingers on Monday night?

Man Utd and City, Newcastle and Arsenal fans, anyone supporting a Premiership team, I'm sorry but it comes with the territory. But Reading fans...written off, as we often are, as a "small club", why should we have to put up with it?

This cannot be happening!!!!

What a truly awful 72 hours in the life of Celtic eh? We suffer our heaviest defeat to Rangers in over fifteen years in a manner that was freakish yet not entirely surprising (especially considering that Strachan had once again bottled it on the selection front…). Then, when Celtic supporters possibly could not feel any lower, reports emerge of Artur Boruc giving a one-fingered salute to the away end on Sunday and Neil Lennon being assaulted by two sectarian scumbags on Sunday night. All in all, a truly dreadful end to last week and an even worse start to the new week! All these incidents were played to the background of zero activity toward the end of the transfer window and the lack of ANY substantial signings – both in terms of monies spent and quality of personnel.

Manchester. The worlds football capital.

I post this 3 days after the transfer window closed - this is predominantly as a result of shock and, well, a lot more shock. The shock comes after Louis Saha passed a medical (I am pretty confident that even I could pass a medical if sick note Saha can) and a lot more shock came after the news that City are mega rich.

Local Manchester news has been full off how Mancunians are proud having two massive clubs. Apparently, in one we have the worlds richest and in the other the worlds best and we are delighted. I am not proud or delighted though, in fact I am gutted. I wish City would get relegated until a Leeds situation occurred.

City are muppets, they can’t be richer than us. Mocking them used to be brilliant, they would never finish higher than us and even when they beat us twice last year it was no big deal. What's going on?

Thanks Curbs and Good Luck

I would like to say how sorry I am to see Curbs go. He managed to keep us up against the odds in his first six months in charge, consolidated our position in the premier league last season and has got us off to a good start this time round. The board should give the manager a reasonable amount of licence to get the job done properly, only stepping in if things start getting out of hand. I appreciate the style of play was in question, but how much 'pretty' football is being played in the premier league?

Anyway, we move on, the club continue to have my full support, good luck to Curbs in whatever he decides to do next, and good luck to the new man. And who the hell are the two new boys we have signed!

England - Our Urbane Bedwetters

England are back this coming weekend, returning from their summer sabbatical and their dire performance against the Czech Republic, and ready to attempt to squeeze six points out of Andorra and Croatia. During Euro 2008 everyone looked up to teams like Spain and Holland and down their noses at England, snootily declaring that Fab's Army have nothing to compare to the classy European teams.

Don't Even Bother Replacing Him

The board obviously run the club so let them sit on the bench, pick the team and take the flak from the press and fans. From a club that are renowned for long serving managers one is forced out after 71 games at the club. He isn't the most flamboyant of guys in the world but he quietly set about his task and had us performing quite well over the last couple of seasons. The boards of all premier league clubs need to realise that not everybody can be a 'top four' club and that managers should be judged on the teams they choose to put out from players they have purchased.

Can We Dream Of Glory?

The start to our league campaign has been very eye opening for the fans. From our first three games I would have expected just three points from playing Spurs at home, Liverpool away and Stoke at home. That's me being a realist.

What I've seen so far on the football pitch from the Middlesbrough players has given me much more confidence and watching them gain six points from nine recently has indicated that this team is on the verge of something special. 

5-0? Who cares?

The sense of excitement as I sit down in my seat at the game against Wigan, is almost tangible. It's the little things that do it - suddenly we have billboards for Sky Sports and for Barclays adorning the perimeter of the pitch.

I've no particular fondness for either company but the presence of their adverts only reinforces the Premier League atmosphere. Weird really. A full house (in effect) of over 24000 spectators has the place feeling electric. Unlike last season we can recognise more than two of the away team without having to consult the team sheet.

Emile Heskey is on the pitch, and you can hardly miss Mario Melchiot's expansive hairdo. Oddly, the Elephant Man seems to be hanging around the Wigan dugout. Someone points out that it's actually Steve Bruce. My mistake.

Billionaires toys - Is that really what we want?

When Roman Abramovich first strolled through the Chelsea Village and into his new hot seat, did any of us really envisage what it would mean for the game, and fully appreciate the shear impact the financial clout he possessed could have? I don't think we did, not really; and I don't think I did, until stepping back and thinking it over amidst the recent takeover at Manchester City.

So with the likes of DIC still lurking in the shadows of our own club, will we fall under the same umbrella as Manchester City and Chelsea with new Billionaire ownership? I used to hope we would, now I'm not so sure.

Does money buy happiness?

The Alan Curbishley Doomsday Clock - Part Two

The fun and frivolity of transfer deadline day is over. Zero hour - appropriately named for the apparently potless West Ham board - has come and gone, and now seems an appropriate time to take another squiz at The Alan Curbishley Doomsday Clock. Last time we looked, the hands showed ten past eleven - a worry for Mr Curbishley, but still giving him a little breathing space.

A lot has happened since then. Let's see what the time is now.

The cavalry arrives (just in time)

Yet again it was the late, late, late, show at Stoke City!

It was a method that suited Manchester United and City quite well, so to be honest, I don't think I'd have it any other way...

The School of Silence

The whole summer Evertonians have been like tetchy Californians, pacing along the San Andreas Fault waiting for the Big One, and now – finally - we have him. Marouane Fellaini is 20 years of age, a defensive midfielder and someone who ran himself ragged against Liverpool last week, and yet £15million seems a lot to pay. Seismologist Moyes had obviously been mulling this one over, and after M’Bia and Moutinho dissipated, spending his money on someone became crucial. Fellaini signing is doubly important, because it could be seen as proof that we had some money, as well as giving us a midfielder. With rumours rife that Wagner Love will be joining in January, things don’t look as bleak as they did a day ago, but the real Big One is David Moyes, his signature is the one really needed.

Nice horns, Mr Kenyon

Hellboy, as we all know, files down his horns to “fit in”. Peter Kenyon probably does it so as not to excite too much comment in the boardroom. But there’s no escaping the comedy pair that have been strapped to his bald pate this morning. The Chelsea chief executive has been cuckolded, and in no uncertain terms, by a billionaire even richer and with an even murkier past than Chelsea’s own.

Jim Bullard: here to save England

A couple of seasons ago Ian Pearce busted up his ankle during a home game against Portsmouth.  We'd used up all our subs so he had to stay on, even though he could only really hop on his other leg.  Gradually he became able to amble around with a big limp, but things still weren't looking good.  Lesser men would have come off, but Pearce stuck it out.  He equalised for us in injury time.  Heroic stuff. 

These days we tend to look down on footballers, and perhaps with reason.  But some are worthy of our worship: Pearce's courage ultimately meant we could stay in the Premiership.  Another Fulham player, Jimmy Bullard, has also shown admirable courage in these last two years, and has just been rewarded with an unexpected but thrilling England call-up.

Football Policing - One Rule For One....

We've all seen it repeated on Sky Sports News over the weekend, amidst the shots of Berbatov jogging about in training, or embarrassing images of Man City fans with tea towels round their heads, held together with black tape. I'm on about the image of Newcastle Chairman, Mike Ashley, standing at the back of the away end and knocking back a rather freshing looking pint of lager in the manner of which Paul Gascoigne would be proud.

As much of an idiot I think he his, "King Kev" on the back of his replica and other such nonsense, there is something pleasing about a man in such a position as he, preferring to stand with the away support than sit in a box, and drink pints of lager rather than sip champagne with the know nothing hangers on in the posh seats. Yet does his status as a football chairman make him different to the rest of us when it comes to obeying the laws of the land?

Sheikh Your Money

It’s getting increasingly difficult keeping up with events at Manchester City these days. Many Blues woke up this morning nursing sore heads after an impressive 3-0 victory had lifted the level of expectations at Eastlands, only to discover that the club were in the process of being taken over by an incredibly wealthy Arab consortium. To put it in perspective, their collective wealth makes Roman Abramovich look like Franny Lee. These are truly exciting times at City.

Bridge of Size

Once more Tottenham fail to take all three points at Stamford Bridge, but perhaps more embarrassingly for the home side, they failed to beat the bottom club and it is now three matches since their last victory over Spurs ... something that was once considered a forgone conclusion.

I would not be so presumptious as to say Spurs deserved to win and even the point was a result of the ennui around the Bridge that even seemed to affect the home crowd. Perhaps they thought it was going to be a stroll in the sun.

Although Chelsea enjoyed the bigger share of possession, as Tottenham have found in recent weeks, it is not the amount you have but what you do with it.  Chelsea failed to seriously threaten the Spurs goal as much as might have been imagined, with the previous match at Stamford Bridge seeing them run in four goals past Portsmouth. Spurs rarely got forward enough to cause Cech many problems, but looked a lot more compact and they did make some good moves down the flanks.

Time to pull an Igor out the hat

Another week goes by and there is still no end in sight for the thousands of Rams fans who have led a miserable existence, probably since the moment Billy Davies decided to turn his post play-off final interview into a contract negotiation.

Ok we got a creditable win at Preston in the Carling Cup and, by all accounts, we were unlucky not to get at least a draw yesterday. But the fact remains that after four games against, at best, moderate opposition, we are bottom of the Championship with one point, one goal and one massive question mark over our manager and a good number of his playing squad, 13 of which are new signings.        

Super Cup - back from a jolly in Monaco

I wrote before Friday's Super Cup that it was not of much importance to United supporters, and it seemed the players felt the same. I have no problem watching a decent Russian side lifting a trophy that is essentially the result of winning a glorified friendly, but I am concerned by the lack of creativity and penetration that United had. It is pretty much agreed that Berbatov or another striker is needed, and the last few games have only served to bump his price up even further. As United and Spurs negotiated in Monaco on Saturday morning, I was on my way home for a wedding.  

What's worse - Stupid crowd or stupid referee?

 

As both a qualified referee and a "passionate" football fan, at times my frustration at another questionable decision can boil over. And, as a referee, if I make a poor decision (which from experience I do, just a bit) I could understand this behaviour. The one thing which, as both a fan and official, I cannot begin to comprehend, is how people who sit through at least the first 70 minutes of a football game, week in-week out, can have such a poor understanding as to its rules.

One Week, Eight Goals - Leave Him Alone!

Now, I said last week I was starting to doubt the capabilities of Curbs. I was one of the 10,000 odd people watching in despair for 70 mins against Macclesfield but Bowyer's header turned out to be the first of eight goals in two games and maybe all is well at Upton Park. I think what annoyed me last week was the capitulation following the first goal, but maybe a bad week so early in the season made things worse with expectations so high.

"You're Not Singing Anymore"

You're an away fan visiting Anfield this afternoon. You've hopped off the train, jumped into a taxi and arrived at the ground. You go through the turnstiles and up into your seat. You stand there with your fellow fans and go through your song book. Usually filled with outdated stereotypical lyrics questioning the employment of the home fans and the crime rate of the area. The irony isn't lost on me when Man Utd fans go through their usual song book covering this one, with them having a higher crime rate than Merseyside for a number of years now. So, where was I? Oh yes; you occasionally sing in support of your own team as well.

The game remains goalless as it approaches the final few minutes, and you've sang yourself hoarse all afternoon. Regular renditions of "where's your famous atmosphere" and "you're supposed to be at home" as the home fans either side of you sit there slurping on jumbo-size Pepsi in complete silence. You've sang for 90 minutes, those home fans around you have not made a sound. Liverpool score in the 88th minute and Anfield erupts. Seconds later, those home fans either side of you that have been sat mute for the entire game, all rise as one and point at your section. Then it comes; "you're not singing any more".

I have a dream

Forty-five years on from Martin Luther King's illustrious speech in Washington, I too, have a dream.  Okay, it may not be quite so noble or have such lofty ambitions as the civil rights' leader and instead of sending out a message to the hearts of his supporters, this one is to the supporters of Hearts.  But I have a dream today.....

Spend it wisely? What the heck for?

It certainly seems that the majority of professional footballers are thicker than lumpy custard, but are they really from the shallow end of the gene pool, or just so focused on the game that the finer and funnier things in life pass them by completely?

The prodigal son returns

The season is barely two weeks old, yet already City are being subjected to an inordinate amount of media coverage. If you were to believe everything you read in the press then City would be facing financial meltdown, our entire first team squad would be available for transfer, and our new manager would be on the verge of walking away from the club after less than three months in charge. And you'd be an idiot. Because they're just making this shit up as they go along. They know no more than me or you. Depressingly, the broadsheets are as guilty as the tabloids.

Steven Gerrard is not a central midfielder

The debate about Steven Gerrard's best position has been raging for years. Rafael Benitez played him wide right one season, and every man and his dog in the press just couldn't wait to refer to Gerrard being forced out to the flanks, being played out of position and sacrificing himself for the good of the team. Not once can I remember the decision being hailed a success after his 23 goals from a wide position that season. He was just being moved out there to accommodate less versatile players in the middle, and ensuring we had our best midfielders on the pitch, with Gerrard being the sacrificial lamb given the graveyard shift, all for the apparent good of the team.

Steven Gerrard is the best right back in the league. He is the best left back in the league, and he'd probably be the best centre half in the league if given a run there. That's how good he is. There's nothing he can't do. Strong with his left foot and his right. Good in the air, brilliant passer of the ball and can tackle as well as anyone I've seen. Massive engine, great desire, brilliant shot and a superb crosser of the ball. He reads the game well, and I can't pick any technical faults with his game. He's an all round footballer, so much so, that play him in any position on the park, and he'd look like he'd played there all his life.

"We're concentrating on the league" and other lies

Oldham suffered their first defeat of the season on Tuesday night, thwocked 3-0 by fellow Lancastrians and favourite team of Alastair Campbell, Burnley.  It would be easy to laugh this off, considering our dynamite start to the League One campaign.  But, there is something magical about a cup run, and the fact that we were knocked out by someone a bit crap, rather than a genuine Big Team makes it even worse.  However it did give me the chance to think of all the excuses (lies) you can come out with when dumped out of the the cup early.  Mine are after the jump, add some of your own in the comments, particularly you Bolton fans, you've had plenty of time to ponder in your post-defeat despair.

Why Don't We Sit Down Together & Have a Go On The Football Scratch Card Anymore?

Now hold on just a minute there, buster. If I'm not mistaken that's a brand new pair of Stan Smiths you're wearing. If you've got fifty sheets to blow on new pumps, you can damn well afford to cough up a few quid on the football scratch card, can't you? Come on you tight wad, it's only fifty pence a go and if the team you pick matches what's under the silver foil you've just won yourself ten whole pounds.

No, I'm sorry - Queens Park Rangers are already taken, what about Queen of the South? Look, there are still twenty teams left to choose from, so just pick one will you. So what if all the proceeds end up going to the club, it's not like we couldn't use the extra cash. Do you think the laundromat just waive their fee for putting our stinking kit through the wash? Get with the now, man - there's a recession going on. For the record it costs fifteen big ones to get our gear washed. With at least twenty fixtures scheduled this season I'll leave you to do the math.

They'll only miss us once we've gone

What is it that Guinness advert proclaims? "All good things come to those who wait". Well the Footballing Authorities may not have to wait too much longer until their transition of the game is complete. To rid the game of the bad and populate it only with the good. No more rowdy behaviour, no more rebels of society daring to stand up and make their feelings known, no more problems.

Their ideals consist of fans turning up every week, queuing to gain entry in an orderly fashion, having booked their tickets 3 months in advance. Entering the stadium and taking their seats, rising only to applaud goals where they dance along to carefully selected music over the PA, before clearing up their litter and disappearing into the countryside until the following weekend. No hassle, no passion, no noise.

Throw the cheque book at them

Hate Frank Lampard, Wayne Rooney, John Terry and every other highly paid Premier League footballer all you want, but when you take a step back from your opinions ask yourself this, why do you hate these people so much?

Is it jealousy? Is it media generated? Or is it the fact the hard-working football fan needs a scapegoat when bellyaching about the declining state of the modern game. Once upon a time these players were the pride of England and the love of every household across the country, so what has changed?

We shall fight them on the left flank...

Writing this blog is a little like therapy. One moment you are up, the next you are down and in a four-day period you can experience the full spectrum of emotions. And all your emotions can be collected and placed into a small space on the computer screen. Sometimes, there’s no room to be the "strong silent type" as Tony Soprano would say.

With that in mind, the Charlton game was typical. A thriller it was called. Happy. Came back from 2-0 down. Happy. We were brilliant going forward I read. Ecstatic. We were shaky at the back. Stomach churning remembrance of last season’s Dr Jekyll Home Game, Mr Hyde Away Game run last term.

Does the Super Cup matter?

In recent times we have seen a whole load of pointless competitions being introduced to club football, mainly seeking to make a quick buck for the clubs involved. United's jaunts to Brazil in 2000 were well documented and came at the expense of participation in the FA Cup.

The most exciting domestic club competition had to be forfeited because the FA were pressuring United to fly off to Brazil for two weeks to help England's World Cup bid. The move was widely criticised by fans of all clubs including United, and the players were far from amused too as they wanted to retain the cup they had won several months before.

That competition was supposed to be revolutionary and change club football forever, but never actually took off and fell to pieces.