The Tonic and Not Thierry

My two sporting men of the week, purely because they did the business for my two teams in action, were..

Not Thierry…

Not Thierry’s injury-time free-lick saw off Charlie’s Community Singing Bunker in Unison (I’m not writing that again) in a thrilling game on Saturday. After the “You looking At My Bird” lot took a lead in the first half from a poetic free-kick that deflected in, the Bricks had their backs to the wall against a team who had not lost since their new genius manager (just ask him) took over. That the Bricks did come back was might testament to their spirit. Having missed a few decent chances (as did the Army lot) a low drive through a crowd of players by Grandad Allan levelled the scores. The two lumps the oppo had up front created mayhem, and in injury time they had another poetic free-kick cannon off the same bar the dog chain’s former Brick loanee walloped the last week. However, we broke, won a dodgy free-kick, and Not Thierry hit a low drive which squirmed under the keeper’s body. Gins all round…

Which takes me nicely on to Ted Ginn… aka the Tonic.

 

 

Ted Ginn Jr had not had a good week. Lambasted by the notoriously impatient Dolphins support for being a first round draft bust, especially in the wake of a demoralising loss to the Saints last week, Ginn lost his place in the starting line-up as a wide receiver. Ginn heard it from Dolphins legends, who called him a coward.

His response was a 100 yard kick-off return touchdown. If that wasn’t enough, a few minutes later he returned one 101 yards. It proved the difference in the game. A wise man, well ZS actually, introduced me to the phrase “it is always darkest before the dawn”. I hope this is the case for Ted Ginn. The Dolphins certainly hope so.

Football Manager 2010… All The Features

I used to like Championship Manager – on one of its many iterations I managed to get a WindyBricks team all the way to the Champions League final where I won with goals from a fictional Bulgarian called Todorov, and Charley Hearn. I then rechristened the game Final Fantasy.

But the new version of the football manager format – and they had an Oasis style split at the creators a few years ago, so I’m not sure if this is the good or bad one – has all the features. Indeed, in an amazing revelation, they have enlisted the human twitch, honest ‘Arry to act as a consultant to one lucky winner. Yes, you can have ‘Arry advise you how to manage better.

Obviously this game includes bent transfers, more bungs than B&Q and an agent not called Willy McKay selling you a load of old foreign nonsense. It also includes a feature where your reserve full-back sprains an ankle and you say to the press that “you are down to the bare bones”, and another astonishing feature where you openly approach another club to be their manager, and then dismiss the claims when leaked as “nonsense”.

In another feature, you take time out as manager to write a bollocks column in a daily newspaper, advocating such greatly thought through proposals of re-drawing an entire Cup draw if WindyBricks and the Occidental Cured Pork get drawn against each other, and perfecting the Mockney persona while putting your ill-gotten gains into a nice drum near Poole.

If I won the prize, I’d ask him the best method of tapping up players, and how to keep all the financial stuff secret. Reckon he’d tell me? I have absolutely no idea why I should ask ‘Arry these things, but you never know. He might know someone who does know the answers.

And I’d hire Kevin (nice suit) Bond as my assistant in a heartbeat.

Unless You Personally Took This Picture..

Why would you have this as a signature if you are a Marching Altogether Dog Chain supporter. It must remind you every time you post that you are still in THIS division. That a team “who played Real Madrid and got to the semi-finals of the Champions League” are facing the mighty Exeter and Wycombe in league football. Why have a picture from a game that ended in misery?

Why not have this one?

Or this one, taken at Wembley!

They are all over their board saying it was our “Cup Final”. I love this big club mentality – they seriously believe that we view them as our Cup Final. Memo. WindyBricks played in THE Cup Final in 2004. Dog Chains last made it in 1973. So you lost your Cup Final yesterday, just as you did last May.

Away you go!

You Amuse Me, Jermaine, You Really Amuse Me..

I have returned from the WindyBricks 2-1 victory over the Marching Altogether Dog Chains, and my goodness, what an absolute joy it was to rain on their bloody parade for once. Oh, OK, we’ve rained on it quite a bit the last couple of seasons.

Once again, though, the over-hyped, top class goalscorer the northern monkeys have in their team absolutely totally disappeared. This is the third time on the bounce at the Not Quite As Old Leslie Grantham, and I don’t remember him playing well in the second leg of the play-offs either.

The bloke strolls all over the pitch like he owns it, never seems to challenge for anything outside the box, and is selfish to the extreme when he thinks he has a chance. Jesus, on one occasion today he had taken the ball wide around the keeper and only had to roll it across the box and one of his men would surely have put them in front. Instead from an acute angle he went for glory. He sliced it wide in a “Geoff Thomas” moment.

The bloke is a chump. I kept thinking what a Clough or a Ferguson would do with him. I’m sure the northerners will point to his goals, but in the  big games, he is going to go missing. Today, he was a disgrace.

All this talk about how good he is amuses me. He is a charlatan.

UPDATE – apologies for the appalling northern monkey speak, but this post made his Dmitriness chuckle…

“fuck you you stupid odious tinpot thugs, fucking tossbag wankers. Arseholes, fucking cretins, hope they fucking go under and take all their dickhead cretin fans with them, absolute cunts. Hate them hate them hate them.”

(Just imagine that numpty stamping their feet at the end)

I Am Psychic…

OK – I had a 50% chance of being correct, but I was, wasn’t I when I said in this post that “Bosnia will play France or Portugal. Put money on it.”

Bosnia have drawn Portugal, and there was no chance either France or Portugal would have been allowed to face the major danger in the second seed pool, Ukraine. So as a reward for running Italy close, Republic of Ireland get to face France.

I amhoping for poetic justice and both of them to go out, but it isn’t going to happen in a month of sundays.

You Had Your Chance..

It really, really bugs me that the World Cup is as gerrymandered as it is. The football one I mean…

In the qualifying competition, the eight best runners-up would go through to a play-off, with four ties deciding the last four European countries going forward to the Finals. The eight teams are an ecletic mix. They include – Winners in 1998, France; Semi-finalists last time around, Portugal; 2004 European champions, Greece. All three of these teams were seeded as number one seeds in their group. All failed to capitalise on that advantage and lost out to the world powers of  Serbia, Denmark and Switzerland. In my opinion, any favouritism shown (and I sort of agree with seeding groups to ensure we don’t get a five team group of San Marino, Andorra, Faeroe Islands, Liechtenstein and Kazakhstan battling it out for two places) ends there.

You had your chance….In my view, these teams should not be afforded postive treatment. They had it already, and they failed. But along with Russia (Euro semi-finalists last time around n’est-ce pas?) who weren’t good enough to be seeded first and fell to Euro finalists Germany in their group, they have been seeded for the play-off. This is a kick in the teeth to Ireland, Bosnia Hercegovina, Slovenia and Ukraine who are now seen as “not quite as worthy” runners-up. The seedings were based on FIFA ratings. This would have had Croatia seeded as somehow they are 8th in the world. The Czech Republic, who seem to do eff all squared at any tournament I recall still, mysteriously, pop up at 15th, one spot behind “what have they done lately” Cameroon, who I think, need to see of the mighty Gabon to qualify! In short, the ratings are wank.

Why on earth couldn’t FIFA just do a random draw of 8 teams? What possible justification is there to seed a bunch of runners-up? I know, I know, we can’t have France missing out, and easing their path may just be the way to ensure the lucrative revenue generated in that nation doesn’t go to waste as Thierry/William/ Gail and anyone else who plays for Arsenal sits on his arse at home. How good would a France v Portugal play-off have been, knowing that the 2006 Semi-Final would be repeated in the preliminaries and that one of them would not make it. How much pleasure knowing one of them would go out and pay for their awful qualifying performances.

No, I don’t buy the bollocks, as purveyed by Sky during the Uruguay v Argentina game that we want to see all the best teams at a World Cup Finals. If that were the case, what the hell are North Korea and Honduras doing there? If Argentina were so damn good, they wouldn’t have required a bent goal against Peru and a scrappy win in Uruguay to see them through. At least there is no hiding place in South America. Everyone plays everyone home and away. The best four go through, the 5th one plays the 4th best in Concacaf.

Well done Bosnia. Off to France or Portugal for you. Put money on it.

I despair of football. I really do…

We want to see a fair and open qualification system and not one rigged to give the likes of France a chance to avoid someone who might just turn them over. You think they want to face Portugal, or Bosnia? Russia or Slovenia? I pray whoever these two countries get, in particular, turn them over.

Take A Chill Pill, Jeff. Sit Back And Relax…

Blimey. I mean a World Cup qualifying campaign in a group very similar to the one we messed up under Steve the Umbrella passing off very easily with 9 wins out of 10 leaves even me with little room to moan. 100% would have been nice, but 4 or 5 times out of 10 you are going to lose in Ukraine with 10 men, so lets not get too overwrought about it, eh? England have appointed the manager we have needed for years, and Fabio Capello has done all that has been required of him. He has shaken up star players, bruised egos and got people to know that if you don’t perform, you won’t perform.

So what is Jeff so upset about? By Jeff, of course, I mean Jeff Powell of the Daily Mail. I’d be upset that I am sharing a sports section with Charles Sale, but that’s just my own personal proclivity, but Jeff has bigger fish to fry.

DAVID BECKHAM MAN OF THE MATCH AWARD IS ANOTHER BAD JOKE

What?!? I hear you cry – Dmitri Old isn’t siding with an old journalistic lag over a pop at David Beckham. Well, playmates, my view on Beckham has eased over the years. He doesn’t offend me anywhere near as much because (a) he is a peripheral player in our squad and he accepts that role willingly. Contrast that with Frank Lampard’s attitude when he got dropped; and (b) he clearly still wants to play for England when other players in his peer group flounced out (Paul Scholes, Alan Shearer to name but two). Some have more cynical explanations (Jeff has) for this attitude, but I can but hope Beckham is doing it for the right reasons. If he isn’t, he is a bloody good actor.

Now, I must admit, I wasn’t as wrapped up in the game as I would have been had it really meant something, but I did follow it, and Beckham seemed to do OK. Sure, Steve Bruce giving him the man-of-the-match was a nonsense, but in the end, so what? No-one died.

Jeff thinks it is more sinister than that. With more conspiracy theories than I have on climate change, Jeff goes off on one.

Beckham mania descended into certifiable lunacy on Wednesday as England’s bit-part celebrity was named the man of a match to which he made a lesser contribution than the ball boys.

I know it was only a short corner, but did the ball boy take it for the second goal? No. So chill out Jeff and write something that makes sense.

The award insulted the rest of England’s team by celebrating a man who did not come on until the last half hour, yet barely had the puff to reach the final whistle.

This plumbed depths lower than the bestowing of token substitute appearances which has given Beckham the most international caps of any outfield player in England history.

I am sure everyone in the England team thought they were insulted. Do you think they really care about the opinion of Steve Bruce? Come on…. And do we really care that Beckham’s subsitute appearances have been “token”. If Capello was about tokenism he would not have won all he has as a manager. You insult the manager, really you do.

“This was a joke lost on everyone except Steve Bruce, who nominated his former Manchester United team-mate for this grotesque honour.

It is a joke which gives rise to the serious question of whether Beckham should be given a place in the 23-man squad for South Africa.”

Does this non-sequiter make sense to you? How does Bruce’s nomination have any bearing on the latter, or can someone tell me what the joke is – is it the award, is it his appearance or Powell’s view that Beckham isn’t fit? Can someone tell me if this makes any sense to them?

Depressingly, some members of England’s old boys’ club are still saying it would be good to have Goldenballs along for the ride.

Lest we forget, it was an injured Beckham who jumped out of that tackle against Brazil which lost the 2002 World Cup quarter-final in Japan. A lame duck is an albatross on the back of any football squad.

What in the hell has the 2002 jump out of a tackle got to do with anything? Beckham was played half-fit as some sort of talisman at that tournament. You could argue that Dave Seaman’s fuck up that made it 2-1 lost us the quarter-final, not an equaliser before half-time. But Jeff has his teeth into this, and he’s not letting go. Anything can be dredged up against Beckham now…

Seven years on from Sven Goran Eriksson’s indulgence of his pet boy, the older Beckham has lost his legs.

The constant travelling across the time zones of wealth creation has not helped but the fitness required for a World Cup is unlikely to be recovered by another loan stint at AC Milan this winter.

Yet still the cult of personality holds sway over professional judgment in many blinkered English eyes.

The first point is a matter of opinion and Powell is as entitled to his as anyone else. No-one is suggesting Beckham should be in the starting line-up at this stage, and with a squad of 23, I don’t have any qualms about him being there for dead-ball prowess etc. The second point implies you don’t get fit in Italy, which is odd, seeing as how they are the current World Champions (how odd). The third just seems daft to me – you think Capello is the sort to indulge people. Jeff does…

Even the iron Italian Fabio Capello, having bitten the bullet by leaving his globe-trotting cash cow in the Ukrainian stands on Saturday, relented at Wembley.

Charitably, we must assume that the manager was likening the US president’s brief tenure in office to Beckham’s fleeting appearance on the pitch and had tongue firmly in cheek when he said: ‘It was like Obama getting the Nobel Peace Prize after eight months as president. He gets the man of the match after 30 minutes.’

Capello with humour shock. Sounded like a good line to me. Leave it at that Jeff. Just chill out, mate. It was a meaningless game in most senses of the word, and yet… Jeff sees sinsiter undertones. Cash cow….

Another easy match, another soft cap for the FA’s hottest commercial property.

Out Beckham trotted. In a trot he remained, spraying long balls, most of which came to nothing, and conjuring up one trademark cross from his archives.

Once he had brushed the outside of a Belarus post with a half-hit shot, those efforts had reduced him to standing with hands on hips, chest heaving, brow furrowed with exertion.

We pick him because he is a hot commercial property. You know, I thought Michael Owen was well known, well regarded and well admired around the world. Sure, not on Beckham’s scale, but certainly more than Darren Bent or Gabriel Agbonlahor. Seems only Beckham really benefits. Still, all this is mightily insulting of our manager, is it not. The rest of his rant, is his opinion, to which, of course, he is entitled. He makes Beckham sound like me after I’ve walked up Chinbrook Road. I’m sure he wasn’t THAT bad.

Worn out – perhaps in part by jet lag – but the adulation lives on, not least among the England fans whose loudest cheer of a ponderous night greeted Beckham’s replacement of Aaron Lennon.

To be fair, even the most brazen self publicist the game has seen did seem embarrassed at being put up as the star of the show by Bruce.

Was he surprised? ‘A bit.’

So Beckham himself thought it was a bit of a joke. Who is your issue with here, Jeff? Are you ranting just for the sake of it mate. Be careful. You could get bitter and twisted. Did Aaron Lennon do anything? Again?

Look, I know this comes as a shock to many of you, but as I got older, and Beckham got worse, my rage towards him subsided. He always loved playing for England, you can see that, and I seriously believe down in his soul that he wants England to win for reasons other than personal self-aggrandisement. Jeff doesn’t. Jeff is even more cynical than me, and no-one is calling me a dewy eyed sentimentalist any time soon. Beckham, I believe, is chuffed he even gets a game under such a tough manager. Capello was his coach at Real Madrid, was he not (or had he gone to the US then – who knows) so must know he is ruthless. What has Capello got to gain by playing someone like Beckham. You telling me the FA are ordering Capello about. I think not…

As for this stadium, which used to pride itself as the Venue of Legends, the new Wembley is still struggling economically to prove itself something more than an architect’s folly.

And for this one night at least it was officially the asylum for Beckham madness.

Not being a regular on Jeff’s work, thank God, I am not to know of his previous views. I do suspect though that he is anti-Wembley (just a hunch) and although it is a great stadium, we overpaid (no shit) and got a white elephant (double no shit) but it ain’t our money after all is it? I’ll bet Jeff has had a go before. I also suspect this isn’t Jeff’s first stab at Beckham. It is quite amazing that Jeff should admonish Mr Beckham for his brilliance at self-publicist. After all, El Tel, as savvy a self-publicist in the game is regularly praised to the skies by one journalist in particular…. Step up Jeff! (Have a look at this belter from the archives in 2002! Go on.. It is hilarious.)

Charles and Jeff. What a Team!

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

Barely sentient Charles Sale, of the Daily Mail, has been going to town on the criticisms of the World Cup bid for 2018 made by Jack Warner. In a recent article tagged under his unmissable “Sports Agenda” column in the Daily Mail, the man who once couldn’t name Jesper Gronkjaer on Hold the Back Page, was in fine form having a dig at the newspaper who gave this complete cock his break…

Here is the section in full…

“Warner has last word

FIFA powerbroker Jack Warner, who made a blistering attack on England’s 2018 World Cup bid at the Leaders in Football conference last week, has had the final explosive say.

Warner, upset at being described as ‘corrupt and racist’ in the Daily Express in the fall-out from his speech, has written a letter to the editor that has been copied to all the FIFA executive committee, as well as FA chairman Lord Triesman.

Warner warns of repercussions, saying ominously he has a better way of dealing with ‘this revolting nasty broadside’ than going to the courts. In effect, the last place he will be in future is in the England 2018 camp.”

Is this utter numpty the only one who doesn’t think that Jack Warner is as straight as a corkscrew? You don’t need to do much more than input “Jack Warner CONCACAF corrupt” into Google to get a veritable gold mine of information and stories for your delectation.

But no. Charlie reckons he’s all right. By his silence, and his unfettered glee at the broadside at a rival, he has sided with one of the most odious crooks (allegedly) in football. Personally, Jack Warner has no influence on my life, and if you have to bribe the filthy cock to get the World Cup by, say, playing a meaningless friendly out there, then do it. But don’t defend him.

Here are some articles Charlie might like to familiarise himself with.

One

Two

Three

and FOUR

There is plenty more where that came from too!

He’s such a nice man, that Jack Warner..

50 People Who Fouled Up Football…

I came across a book with this title somehow or other today. I wondered who Michael Henderson had decided would be in his pantheon of horrors, and if some of my bete noires were in there.

If I had to pick the 50 people to foul up football, here are some of my contenders.

David Evans. A Weapons grade c*** who did Maggie’s bidding. When the WindyBricks kicked off at his shithole, the folly of that muppet not making the game all ticket came home to roost. So he became a Tory MP, banned away fans, had a plastic pitch and was the odious cretin who instead of being a loud mouth, was Thatcher’s toady.

Lord Justice Taylor. He might have meant well, but all seater stadium were his legacy. Do you know, if Liverpool had been the team killed in the Munich Air Disaster, I doubt any of us would be allowed to fly any more.

Rick Parry – The architect of the Premier League. In 1992-3 that behemoth was created. In the 19 years of the league we have had FOUR teams win it. Manchester United, Chelsea, Arsenal and Blackburn. In the previous 19 years Liverpool, Arsenal, Leeds United, Everton, Aston Villa, Nottingham Forest and Derby County won it. Not only did Manchester United fail to win it, but provincial teams had a shout. QPR and Watford and Ipswich finished 2nd. That’s a pipe dream. Parry was the salesman and while the rich clubs have benefited f*** all else has. And the biggest beneficiaries have been the really big clubs. Stupendous.

Whoever was responsible for the Champions League – I hate it. You don’t have to be champions to get in (Liverpool’s last league title was 18 years ago) and yet… The clubs moan about too many fixtures but at one stage you played 12 games just to get to the quarter finals! You also destroyed the Cup Winners Cup, the UEFA Cup, and in England it is part of the reason the FA Cup is a relic.

Andy Gray – Who proved to all and sundry, when he bottled taking the Everton job and chose to stay in the comfort zone of criticising everyone else when he feels like it in the Sky box as some sort of fucking guru, that he is a prick. He is the epitome of the Premier League. Overblown, overexposed and full of its own self importance.

OK – I’ll take a break and look at some of Henderson’s list. Some small comments where appropriate…
Alan Green (fair enough – self important cock);

Alan Hansen (harsh – seems harmless to me.)

Alan Hardaker – FA administrator (before my time, but legends are that he was a bit of a tosser);

Alan Sugar (confused at this one. Should be sanctified for Carlos Kickaball in my eyes);

Alf Ramsey (rubbish – manager of a World Cup winning team. What’s he on about);

Ashley Cole (no argument here. The epitome of the Premier League’s vapidity);

Bill Shankley (erm….eh?)

Bob Shennan (no idea who this is)

Charles Hughes (oh dear. He was an arse, he did like direct football, but he wouldn’t be on my list);

Cristiano Ronaldo (Indeed. Again no argument. It was the constant “he’s the best player in the world” shit that got me);

David Baddiel (For a song? Oh come on);

David and Victoria Beckham (5 years ago the former was a lock for this list. His attitude to playing for England has gone a long way to rehabilitating himself in my eyes, but yes, you can’t leave him out for the pop star nonsense);

Denis Wise (A Grade A C***);

Derek Hatton (Jesus? What on earth has this got to do with anything?);

Don Revie (Some people never forgive);

Garry Cook (Who?);

George Best (Another who was best in the world just because he happened to be Man Utd’s best player);

George Graham (For bungs? Like no-one else was. WindyBricks will never forget what he did for us);

Golden Generation (which one, or is it fifty titles?);

Gordon Taylor (no argument);

Graham Poll (no argument);

Graham Taylor (A bit harsh. Out of his depth as an England manager, but fouled up football?);

Harold Thompson (need to look him up);

Hooligans (Easy target);

Hunter Davies (Er….why?);

Ian Wright (No argument – and another who encourages people to think they can be TV stars on the back of the sport);

Joey Barton (Plenty of other scumbags around);

John Hall/Freddie Shepherd (The latter, yes, but why Sir John. He gave Newcastle a buzz);

Jonathan Barnett &; Mel Stein (And any other fucking leech – can I add Sky Andrew please);

José Mourinho (You have him and not Sir Alex?);

Ken Bates (Cheap, easy, spot on);

Lord Kinnaird (who?);

Nick Love (I am reminded of the Public Enemy lyric – You singers are spineless, as you sing your senseless songs to the mindless. Love’s films hit the spot);

Paul Gascoigne (I think football fouled him up) ;

Paul Ince (No argument. Not really);

Peter Kenyon (Weapons grade bell-end);

Peter Ridsdale (He fouled up Leeds rather than football. So no enemy of mine);

Peter Swales (No argument);

Piers Morgan (I hate the bloke, but what the hell has he done to foul up football);

Pini Zahavi (Eh?);

Richard Keys (A stooge. An annoying stooge, but a stooge nonetheless. Far less odious than Gray or Jamie Redknapp);

Richard Scudamore (A lock – Rick Parry’s successor as the c*** behind the abomination of current football);

Robinho (Why?);

Roman Abramovich (Why not Jack Walker then? Or the Glazers? Or David Dein?);

Sam Allardyce (Nonsense);

Sepp Blatter (Why no Joao Havelange? I ain’t arguing, but you can’t have one without the other);

Steve McLaren (He was a tool. He never fouled up football);

Terry Venables (I don’t know why. He did a great job with Goldberg at Palace in my eyes);

Tony Banks (For supporting Chelsea?).

Where is the Crimson Snide? Where is Eric Cantona? Where is Arsene Wenger (for myopia as a convenient excuse for bad behaviour)? Where is Roy Keane (a much more evil version of Paul Ince)? Where is Dwight Yorke? Where is David Murray? Where is the man / men who allowed Manchester United to opt out of the FA Cup? Where is David Mellor? Where is Harry Redknapp? Where is Didier Drogba? Where, if we are doing collectives, are “Liverpool fans” who are the biggest bleeding heart, myopic, maudlin, self-righteous, self-obsessed collective around? Where are TV football schedulers who think that Friday night is an acceptable time to hold a football match? Where is Irving Scholar?  Where is the c*** who believed that a grey strip was appropriate for England? Where is Harry Harris? Where are the members of the England “band”? I would add anyone who thinks that a penalty shootout is a better to way to settle a football match than golden goals. I would add the twat who banned additional replays in the FA Cup.

The book obviously sparked debated, judging by the comments on the web. This Liverpool thread is an example (and I see I’ve missed off Wayne Rooney (hmmm), Sven (try Adam Crozier instead), Martin Edwards (why?), Freddie Mercury (eh?), Charles Reep (que?), Nigel Kennedy (for fuck’s sake), Geordie Blubber (jesus), Antonio Rattin (but not Diego, eh?), The fans (whatever), Didier Drogba (he was there), Sid and Doris Bonker (what is he on about), Mike Ashley (why?).

What went wrong with football can be laid at the door of three things. Hillsborough priced people out of the game and ruined clubs who had to renovate or die. Then came the Premier League that put survival to earn money as a higher priority than achievement and focussed more of the money on those that are at the top. The league is utterly uncompetitive – when was the last time Arsenal, Chelsea, Liverpool and Manchester United weren’t our representatives in the Champions League. Then Euro 96 watered down the atmosphere and made football occasions rather than a sport. We had bands, face paint the fucking works. Those that stuck with the game were increasinglt disenfranchised. Every day had football on TV. The special occasion became more scarce. Now football is an increasing irrelevance in my life.

Some Monday Thoughts…

All totally at random, but here goes…

While on holiday I managed to watch all 8 parts of Michael Palin’s Pole to Pole. The only thing I would say is that it got a PG certificate but at one point, Mr Palin’s appendage is clearly visible. Excuse me. He also gets his arse out too! I could get all Daily Mail here, but who cares. Actually if you read his diary extracts on line, you get a much better feel for the journey he took. I thoroughly enjoyed it and will look for the others on sale to take up a few more hours of my time.

The next book being read is by Colin Thubron and is called “Shadow of the Silk Road”. Lord knows why, because I read his book “In Siberia” and although he wasn’t as tiresome as the author of Mirrors of the Unseen (Jason Elliot – and I’ll explain why sometime but it revolves around a charicature American, his moaning about tourists, and then an incident with a camera – clue…you were a tourist too, mate) that book plodded. I am wading through it like I would a lake of treacle. Don’t expect a book review for a month.

A quick restaurant review or two. I went to the East Quay fish restaurant on Saturday in Whitstable. Jolly nice, if a little pricey. In Cornwall I had lunch in the Wellington Hotel in Boscastle, and thought the fish left a lot to be desired, but then again, I was a bit grouchy that day. At the Godolphin Hotel in Marazion, the burger was fine, but the staff need hearing aids (the mother-in-law went meal-less). The Norway Inn, on the main road between Truro and Falmouth did an excellent baguette – but lets face it, that’s tough to cock up. Harvey’s Wharf in Falmouth got good reviews from the beloved and m-i-l but I thought my whitebait was cack, and the crippling soullessness of the place probably accentuated by malaise. The sandwich and smoothie at Polzeach (near Rock) was absolutely magnificent – especially the smoothie. Although expensive, I wanted another. That’s the end of food critic corner.

I listened to the radio when the boss of the refs union suggested the Crimson Snide should be suspended. I sometimes wonder if football can get any more up its own arse, and then something comes along to banish those wonderments. Crimson Snide is a law unto himself, he does what he wants, he knows he is untouchable, and yet you feed it. If he thinks Alan Wiley is bad, then my mate Henry VIII would point him in the direction of Phil Dowd!

Hey ho. Rio Ferdinand made a dozy mistake. Why is anyone surprised? Ashley Cole makes an error trying to do too much. Why is anyone surprised? I swear, football can’t parody itself enough.

On the way home from Whitstable I had Charlton v Oldham on the radio. A League One game on Radio Five Live. It may well have been a bad game, but fuck me blind, if that had been Liverpool v Man Utd, frequently a turgid affair, I’ll bet the moans wouldn’t have formed the basis of the commentary. Have a pop at the lower leagues, twats. No-one cares.

The NFL game in London is two weeks away and my tickets haven’t shown up. Worried. Not yet. Ticketmaster said they had been despatched and we were away all last week, but there is no record of them trying to deliver the things.

I will avoid politics for the time being, except to say that Ben Bradshaw must be having a laugh. In general.

Barack Obama won the Nobel Peace prize. According to those that know about this sort of thing, he was nominated just 10 days or so into office. Hope wins you millions. I must confess I laughed. Still, Al Gore won it a couple of year’s back for a powerpoint presentation so credibility is always going to be a problem.

Nice to see Rio win the Olympics – it really needed to go there. If they can afford it, and the infrastructure is there, then it should go there, and wasn’t it amusing to see Chicago go out first depsite the Messiah making their case. Change I could believe in.

Congratulations to the Eden Project for having helpful stewards and attendants – and not utter utter jobsworths. You still couldn’t pay me to actually go in there, but at least I dropped off and picked up the beloved and m-i-l with help from the high visibility jacket brigade.

I have several beers to consume, but will say at the outset that Skinners Cornish Lager is a most acceptable beverage. I have Sharps, St Austell, Skinners, Keltek, Lizard and Wooden Hand to drink – yes, I am getting more into bitters.

It would be nice to see the Dolphins beat the Jets and pop that awful team’s bubble. It won’t happen though. A shame also that Favre and the Vikings are 5-0. The beloved’s Giants are also 5-0 and look the best of the bunch at the moment.

I know the Yankees are the best team in the MLB, but did they really need to be helped by playing Minnesota less than 24 hours after they clinched their place in the postseason and having had to go 12 innings to do so? Why didn’t they just make it clear and ask them to play with one hand tied behind their back while they were at it?

Think it easy to do without Sky Sports (or ESPN America)? I had a whole week without it and it was very bad. With nothing major on the terrestrial channels, it was a case of Sky News or those god awful channels with home auctions and what not. No wonder I watched the DVDs on the laptop (see internet problems).

Nice to see Terminal 4 has had a polish up. However, you get the feeling that the airline industry is in a really bad way at the moment, and it wasn’t exactly a hive of activity there. Maybe it was a false impression.

Now the Sox are out, at least I can sleep without looking up their score on the mobile. The beloved will be happy about that, I am sure.

WindyBricks drew 1-1 with Willie Carson and Julian Wilson’s Magic Roundabout Town, which according to the cognoscenti was a good result. Some bloke on loan scored for us, and Comes Alive got sent off. I missed a 5-0 win over the team managed by “You’ve got to have the gift, but use it at the right time.” Clearly he didn’t and he couldn’t. Not Thierry got a hat-trick, and all of them were from outside the area, and none of them bust the net. The Plassie Scousers soon got rid of “Liverpool FC is Hard As Hell”.

Enough random musings. I will return.

Bent???? Never!!!

It is a bit of a slow loader but stick with it. At 2:13 they show you the position of the scorer when the ball was kicked….

I feel the referee could have been unsighted!

Argentina get out of jail with a little help from their friends!

Banalities and Generalities

Apologies for the lack of blogging for those of you who give a fig and are not here to find a map of Barbados. A mixture of work, lack of motivation, illness and lack of inspiration has meant that there has not been a lot to write about, even if I wanted to. WindyBricks won 3-1 at the weekend, and looked quite good against some northern nonsense who sound like cow’s tits grazing, and the first two goals by Can’t and The Dresden Axeman were very well worked. When the bloke who lost an r off the supermarket sign headed in his first goal since transferring from the borough of ghastly Follett MP, the game was all but up. This week, We Three Kings Of the Fat Welsh Dartman are our hosts. Rigged snooker matches all round.

The Red Sox are 7 games up in the wild card, 6 games down in the division. Unless a cataclysm happens, the Sox will play the Angels in the ALDS starting in a fortnight. There really isn’t much else for me to add.

The next book to be reviewed (and I get the chance to read now I commute) will be Ashes Victory (2005) which very much falls into the category of “I should probably get this one out of the way”. It hasn’t had the most auspicious of starts, and has not been particularly enlightening thus far. Is there really any more to be said about that series?

I have in mind a post about the country of my wife, and which I think I need to talk about in my own way. It is revolving around in my head a bit, and it is not at all clear to me what the message will be. For the first time in my life, I really do believe my future may lie elsewhere – not the immediate future, but the mid-term one. And yet, the things that revile me about my current country, and the one I always will be a citizen of, no matter what the paperwork says, are creeping in in the States. Would it merely be jumping out of the fire place and into the fire? All I do know is I am off to Cape May in November and it doesn’t feel like a holiday to me. It feels like going to a second home. I know when I walk the border collie I look up and see the aeroplanes flying in to Heathrow and think – I so want to be on one of those, having come back from the USA. Oh well, I’ll come to that sooner or later.

So, surprisingly people, you have a calm and considered Dmitri – I am not feeling too angry about anything except the gaping hole in the sleeve of my shirt. I built a chest of drawers from Ikea on Sunday to go with the garden furniture. Work is going very well with most people happy with me for once in a while. I am enjoying the married life, despite a lot of the time probably giving off the impression that I don’t, and feel a lot less stressed. Commuting has been fine, with little to annoy me. I have a break coming up. I don’t care what the dietitian says to me. Hatchet Harriet scares me more next week.

I hope to get enthused soon. I am sure something – like Carol Kirkwood putting the Aussie dust storms down to a hot summer in Australia (guess she can’t figure out why they play test cricket in December and January down under then) – or another ludicrously bent decision going the Crimson Snide’s way will put fingers to keyboard, but at the moment, I have a Billy bookcase to build, TVs to take to the recycling units and a state visit from the Mum in Law to prepare for.

And Another “At Last”

Your player is clean through, but 20 yards from goal he is brought down, cynically, by the central defender. He has to go. Clear red card (most of the time – I remember Derek Mountfield once for Walsall doing this in the first five minutes at the New Leslie Grantham, and getting booked, and we went on to lose 1-0) and down to 10 men. Chances are you won’t score from the free kick, so he’s saved a goal and lost a player. A trade off of sorts…

Now, the ball goes into the box, the keeper steams out of goal, and the player, seeing an opportunity to score, decideds to chuck himself on the ground. Chances are the keeper could get sent off for denying a goal scoring opportunity, you get a penalty, which you are likely to score. What’s the trade off if you get caught. Providing you are not a recipient of an earlier caution, the worst you’ll get is booked. Go on, chuck yourself to the ground. Make it look good and try to kick the keeper as you fall over.

When UEFA took up the cudgels against Eduardo for his outrageous flop last weekend, they did what I have been crying out for years. They’ve punished someone for blatant cheating. Now, in the way McNulty appeared to be defending Chelsea, the defence put up is “why single out Eduardo?” Why indeed. If this rule had been in place, and suspension followed a blatant dive, then Ronaldo would have played half the games each season. The question isn’t “why single Eduardo out?” more “why the hell don’t they stop these acting tarts from cheating?”

I recall, many moons ago, a Portugese referee sending off Emil Kostadinov for deliberately punching a ball into the back of the net, and wheeling away afterwards claiming a legitimate goal. I thought it one of the best decisions I’d seen. (If my memory is faulty, please feel free to correct me). I would do the same for anyone found guilty of diving in the penalty area, and book them if they did it outside the box. I bet the diving would stop. If you are going to do that, you are going to need to look at TV replays of “diving incidents” to get as good a view as you can, and to try to cut off some of the precious moaning at source (Wenger’s defence harking back to Eduardo’s horrific injury wasn’t very convincing). Rooney can say all he likes about his honesty, but he induced that contact on Saturday, and we all know it. Pundits say the player doesn’t need to get out of the way of recklessness, but I beg to disagree in this regard. Inducing the contact is the issue. If he couldn’t get out of the way, then fair enough, but these players drag their feet and suddenly develop lead in their boots… how appropriate.

I sound like Jimmy Hill now, and that is worrying. But football has always tut-tutted about defensive cheating while encouraging strikers and tricky midfielders to flop and roll at the merest hint of contact, or in Eduardo’s case, a keeper just about in the same post code, and laughed and taken a blind eye to cheating at the attacking end. If something stops that (just as punishing all shirt pulling in the box with penalties and free-kicks) then the game will improve. In my view, UEFA have set a very good precedent. Let’s see it followed….

At Last….

I am a supporter of a third tier club in English football. If a child prodigy was to walk through the door of our humble club, the chances of him ever playing for my club are remote. Because the child prodigy and his family will be visited by representatives from the top tier of English football, and to my knowledge Portsmouth and Liverpool, to name two, have raided our crop of youngsters, and be whisked off for a life of anonymity before they are inevitably sold to some middling club somewhere down the line.

Today FIFA have gone some way to deterring this odious practice by telling Chelsea they are unable to register new players for the next two seasons. Rightly the media are focussing on their inability to buy over-priced, overpaid mega -players from various parts of the globe, but it may well be better for all concerned that they can’t go around snapping up other teams’ talent before they have a chance to shine. And they certainly can’t do it by inducing the player to break a contract. I suppose those youngsters on short-term schoolboy terms won’t be protected – they bloody well should be – but when the big clubs come for the likes of David Sounds Like A Cow, why wouldn’t you have your head turned? I note, even though Sounds Like A Cow is 18, he’s nowhere near the first team, and heaven knows, Liverpool aren’t exactly infused with depth at the moment.

Oh, the big clubs say this is just the little clubs trying to shake them down for more money. Of course. It is our only means of survival now the hope of actually achieving anything in the game has been taken away from us. But if FIFA’s judgement today stops the practice of tapping up, then I’d mark this day down as a decent one for the game.

Phil McNulty on BBC offers up a reasonably balanced piece which is spoiled by this nonsense…

“If Fifa actually believes Chelsea are the only club guilty of this particular offence in world football, then naivety is being stretched to its furthest point. Are we to seriously believe that? I do not. This is a can of worms that has yet to be fully opened.”

We all know they are not the only lot to do it. Harry fucking Redknapp has made a career out of it. Liverpool give it the holier than thou, but they aren’t bad at it either. Arsenal can act all pious, and we know that others aren’t averse to turning heads of young kids. But what do you suggest? Let them off because everyone is doing it?

Good on Lens for sticking up themselves. Too many clubs have had to accept a fee because the player has had his head turned. Player power goes right down to schoolboys now, and any attempt to redress the balance has to be welcomed.

A Wonderful WindyBrick Night

One avenue to the North London Industrial Estate has disappeared as the WindyBricks were eliminated at the first hurdle in the “I haven’t seen them in B&Q” Paints tin pot. We were vanquished by Stan Flashman’s hair by the score of 2-0. There has been much gnashing of teeth among the cognoscenti. I await the first “Cartman’s Mate’s Overcoat should Go”. He’s taken us as far as he can is another specially pertinent comment. 

The wailing will continue. Especially as we chucked two points away last day of Fry against the illumniscent ones at the up to date Leslie Grantham. An early goal by the correctly valued Argonaut was cancelled out by a thieving bastard who put the R into Australian for Lager, who I saw play for the Fish Breathers many moons ago before he went on to star at other venues. Albeit shortly. Much excitement accompanied the debut of Aussie Merv’s Builder in the WindyBrick line up, but that was about all on a low key evening.

Next up – The Dog’s Breasts down in Trumpton. Pip Pip!

Definitely – The Pay Rise Had Nothing To Do With It..

Today Jolean Lescott said..

“Everyone outside top four are aiming for the same thing – I think Man City are better equipped to do that quicker than Everton and that’s why I’m here”

Of course, the reputed hike in his salary, nice signing on bonus and other assorted goodies had little to do with his move, his sulk and his temper tantrums. It was always about challenging for honours. Of course….

Just another footballer, insulting our intelligence.

No. I Was Not There

But thanks for asking. I’ve been to that particular fixture before and I find the whole rigmarole, the whole charade tiresome and as predictable as it could possibly be. When sports journos come on and say they are “shocked” they are either lying or have been living in a darkened room for the past 100 years. However, what it does allow all football journos to do is to allow them to have a stab (no pun intended) at the old Wilfred Owen game, and become war correspondents, if just for one day… “I saw scenes of horror….” blah blah blah.

As Talking Heads once said “Same as it ever was, same as it ever was”. WindyBricks will revel in the “kudos” and in the same breath get outraged at the terrible media coverage. Occidental Cured Pork will get off pretty scott free as they are the media darlings and the FA will lift up the carpet and gently sweep the pitch invasions under it. The consequences for away supporters of WindyBricks may be the main tangible impact – there goes Dog Chains away fellows – and we’ll have the old Crimewatch UK photos trying to get the “ringleaders”. The more outrageous talking heads can and will use the invective to provoke a meathead response – I well recall Simon Bates after the Play Off row a decade and a half ago having a real tear up. Yes, Simon Bates! The idiots will ring in to reinforce stereotypes.. same as it ever was….

We could play phrase bingo.. how many times will we see

“We thought we’d left this sort of thing behind”

“Wherever [WindyBricks] go for a big game, trouble follows”

“Worst scenes of violence in 10/20/30 years”

“Mindless morons”

“Rampaging thugs”

It never changes…

The Right Shoulder Chronicles

So…

A subluxation of the right shoulder, and the pretty nice pain I had to go with it, has rendered the blog stationary for the past couple of weeks. I’m still getting a bit of grief from the top of the arm as I type (and when swotting moths) but it is much more tolerable and hence I imagine I’ll be getting on the blog bandwagon soon. I have an appointment on Thursday to map out what needs to be done to the muscle damage I seem to have sustained from a cricket match two weeks ago (doc said I should avoid throwing et al for a couple of months), and I’ll know a bit more from there. At least I can sleep at night.

My best wishes to Adelaide Exile who I understand has suffered a much worse injury than mine which will keep him out of football for a lot lot longer. I know the recovery will be a long one, mate, but all the best.

WindyBricks play Occidental Cured Pork tonight, and in all seriousness, I really can’t be bothered with it. I’m not going, which means I’m not real Windy in their eyes, and after the game in 2003, I really have no desire to be put through the dry run of a police state to watch a meaningless cup match (which it is, in the whole scheme of things). Others are welcome to their excitement and anticipation. I’m not one of them. Since I last corresponded we have beaten Matt Damon’s Gob 4-0 in the PissPoor Lager Cup, had a dull draw against Sandy’s Automobile,  a 2-0 win over Ancient Cured Pork (Fit), and a goal-less draw against The Used Car Salesman from Essex. We remain unbeaten, having conceded just one goal with both our main centre-backs unfit. It isn’t a bad start.

The Red Sox hold a tenuous grip on the wildcard place for the MLB play-offs, but while many look at Texas as the threat, in the back windscreeen are the Rays. They worry me, because we have a lamentable record against them in recent times. The Red Sox are in the middle of a brutal part of their schedule, and still have to play Tampa home and away (I believe), New York (away) and Los Angeles Angels (home) before season’s end. The offense seems to be hitting a little more consistently, but now Beckett has had two poor starts on the bounce and the distress signals are beginning to be seen. That said, the American correspondents aren’t panicking, but that is precisely what I can do.

So, an interesting couple of weeks dealing with my first really tricky sports injury in my 40 years on this earth, and of course, missing some of the Ashes test I had tickets for was tough, but hopefully on the road back to recovery now and blogging will pick up again in the near future.

Not Been The Best Couple Of Days..

England getting humped in the test match, Boston going 24 innings without a run against the Yankees (well at time of writing we are 5-0 down in the 9th with one out – so it is 23 innings at the moment), and only the WindyBricks keeping any semblence of joy with a 1-1 drawn down south. James Black Lace soundalike impressed in the midfield, and I liked the letterless supermarket up front – once he sharpens up he’ll be very dangerous.

Let us hope there are more glad tidings coming up.

It could be worse – I could be an England cricket fan, who loves the Red Sox, and a supporter of the only football club in Norfolk.

UPDATE – Defeat sealed. 24 scoreless innings.

A Gust Of WindyBricks

Ah… the smell of plastic on manicured grass, the hurly burly of diving prima donnas and moaning managerial staff. The cut and thrust of well thought out meaningful argument descending into “eff you” and “not the windybricks I used to know”. It can only mean another season of Division Three football at the novel Leslie Grantham and the fortunes of the WindyBricks will ease into my blog yet again.

For the third year in a row we start the campaign on the road – this time at the Titanic’s Departure FC who quite comically commence proceedings 10 points below us. We have no centre-backs to speak of as No Nutritional Value wants to up his calorie count with some Championship fibre, and Stefan Dennis’s foot has buggered up – Don’t it make you feel good indeed! So we start the season with a couple of new signings – one a rehashed loanee in the Correctly Costed Argonaut, and the other a supermarket from Stevenage, albeit with a letter dropped off his signage. A lot will rest on him and The Great City of the Jacksons to score the goals to put us up with the division’s best, but one can’t help but thinking that the Overcoat has missed a trick and had us standing still when others about the place are improving. Pre-season went well, though, so no need for too much pessimism yet.

Just wait 16 hours or so for that to start.