okeydokefootball.blogspot.com

Time to stop bouncing then...

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Sat, 29 Jan 2011 12:04:00 +0000

There must be plenty of us who wish we were the ‘aul dear giving Bertie Ahern a hard time outside Dáil Éireann the other day. “You should be ashamed of yourself,” she said repeatedly to the part-time inane columnist who once led this country for over a decade and who, according his court records anyway, is one of the most phenomenally lucky gamblers in history.

Ahern, of course, was playing out the last chapter of his incredibly long goodbye to Irish political life. Two and half years ago he felt that – after handing in his resignation as Taoiseach and heading for a goodbye scoop in Fagans – he had made a dignified goodbye to life at the centre of national politics. Dignified goodbyes though are very, very rare in any walk of life, particularly politics, and after the criticism of his tenure that has followed, there is now a general consensus that this was a bumbling yes man who got several things right but many, many of the big things wrong.

There’s little point in going into the minutiae of what Bertie did and didn’t do, but suffice it to say he believes that everyone should still think he’s a wonderful man of the people. Denial is the order of the day, and while most of us remember his true legacy, he just remembers that celebratory pint of Bass in 2008. Steeped in self delusion, a dignified goodbye is no longer an option.

I’m obviously thinking about goodbyes because, as of yesterday all Liverpool fans like me must surely have accepted that, despite the initial shock, we will soon be saying goodbye to Fernando Torres. Goodbye to a phenomenal goal record, goodbye to the only man on the team self confident enough to tell Jamie Carragher to shut up, goodbye to lengthy absences from the team and goodbye to that bouncy Anfield chorus that paid tribute to ‘Fernando Torres, Liverpool’s number 9’.

I don’t blame Torres for wanting to leave, I don’t believe he owes anybody anything either. This is a bloke who’s nearly 27, and who must look back on the summer of 2008 and think where did it all go wrong? He scored the winning goal in the European Cup Final, he had just had an astonishing first season for Liverpool and he was heading back to start an assault on the Premier League and Champions League believing he could win both with his team, and indeed came relatively close on at least one front.

Since then, he has drifted further and further away from top club honours – his stated reason for leaving Athletico Madrid in the first place – while having won the World Cup for likely the only time last summer, his joy was tempered by his terrible form throughout the tournament and painful injury during the final itself. A multi-millionaire who can’t buy a break when it comes to the big things he wants to achieve, how could he not be interested in Chelsea’s offer?

Even if the side is aging, they appear to have the funds to keep buying in new stars and it’s the thorny subject of reassurance of transfer money that sparked his major problems with Liverpool in the first place. Having been, in his opinion, lied to by the Hicks and Gillett regime, this summer he stayed around in the hope that a billionaire might arrive. FSG’s promises of revival based on steady progress and wise investment clearly doesn’t appeal to a man heading into his prime. Frankly, those who don’t understand why he’d go have their heads buried in the sand.

The only real question now is whether it’ll be a quickie divorce or lengthy, drawn out affair. Or of course, there may be reconciliation, but if Mrs Doubtfire taught us anything – and I’m not sure it did – it’s that sometimes, these things just can’t be fixed. As of now, there are pretty much three possible outcomes.

(1) Liverpool accept a bid from Chelsea and Torres goes.

It’s the most obvious, least messy option but it is more than a little complicated. Kenny Dalglish won’t like the idea of losing a prized asset during what he hopes are the first six months of his second tenure as manager and won’t let Torres go easily. Those who’ve read Roy Keane’s autobiography will vouch for the fact that Dalglish can be a bit prickly when it comes to losing out in major transfers. In turn, Chelsea will now have to come up with a bid that meets Dalglish’s valuation of the player, not to mention appease the money men in Fenway Sports Group.

Chelsea need to send a fax (apparently English clubs still use fax machines for such things) to Anfield with an offer that will make up for the lost commercial revenue that Torres generates and that offer is well above the £35 million offered yesterday and, most likely well above the £40/£42 million offered last night alongside Daniel Sturridge. Will Chelsea have the cash to spend? £50 million might just be the type of symbolic figure that would do it, though a Chelsea player in exchange may also be needed. Or maybe they could just take Joe Cole back, which would be very nice of them. Doing all of this in a few days, during which Liverpool can’t sign a striking partner for Luis Suarez, is going to be a challenge but not impossible. Odds on option one? 3-1

(2) Torres stays until the summer and leaves for a bigger fee once Man City get involved.

As a Liverpool fan who tries to remain somewhat reasonable when it comes to emotional attachment to the team (I try not to use the words ‘Football Club’ very often anyway), I’ve learnt that transfers should always be viewed as cold business transactions that must make sense to all sides. Break it down to the basic elements of any deal and even Robbie Fowler’s return a few years back falls under this category*.

With no major tournament this summer there’s time to benefit from a big-money deal. Potential targets will know Liverpool have money to spend both on the strength of the Suarez move, as well as the massive funds likely to come from Torres going. The cash could also be used to reshape the side. Torres is the latest in a long line of footballers at Liverpool who have become the focal point of play; where the team is built around them but once they’re taken out of the side no semblance of a proper style is in evidence.

Think of Arsenal, they play based around an ethos that Arsene Wenger has imposed upon the club; it’s what Mourinho did for three seasons at Chelsea (even going so far as making sure all the youth teams played in a similar formation to the first team). Liverpool haven’t had a recognisable style (and no, ‘boring’ doesn’t count as a style) that runs through the team and rules how they approach each and every game for 20 years now. Pass and move was replaced by brute force and little imagination under Souness; fractured focusing on stars under Evans; hard work and crippling fear of failure under Houllier; and finally reactionary chopping and changing under Rafa.

Not that I’m saying Rafa didn’t do some great things for the club, but far too often he designed his team structure around the opposition. While some may argue that he imposed a style that focused on quick movement and pressing high up the field during the fourth year of his tenure (when Torres was at his best), this was, let’s be honest, based on a little luck. After two terrible years, Alonso came into form, Gerrard’s ego was massaged by not technically taking him out of the middle and, of course Torres’ immense form led the whole juggernaut from the front.

Take Alonso or Torres out, and the house of cards generally fell (though to be fair there was no Alonso present in the 4-1 thrashing of Man United). The reality is, take Fabregas from Arsenal in the summer and at the very least the team will still play in a similar manner, being as they are a construct of Wenger’s footballing design. Take one element from the Royal Flush Rafa had in his possession on 08/09 and things just fell apart. Odds of a big transfer in the summer and rebuilding, a hopeful evens.

(3) Torres stays, strikes up a partnership with Suarez, changes his mind ala Rooney and Tevez, following further discussions and everything is hunky dory.

Okay, sometimes I’m an optimist. This could happen, but it’s hugely unlikely. For one, Torres wants to play in the Champions League, the only time he’s looked happy this season was putting two past a big side (yep, that’d be Chelsea) while goal celebrations for anything else have been more than a little muted. Could playing alongside a kindred spirit like Suarez (well, they have the same agent at least) reignite his belief that Liverpool Football Club (sorry) is a team that’s going places? Probably not. The odds on this, a good 20-1.

Of course, as an infrequent and pretty bad gambler my odds may be askew there but whatever the outcome let’s just not lose the run of ourselves. Who knows, it could even be the best thing for Liverpool to let him leave. As the comic actor David Schneider said on Twitter this morning: “It's ok Liverpool fans. Suarez is a perfect replacement for Torres. They just have to check he has hamstring/groin problems and you’re sorted.”

Ok, it’s only the bloke from the Friday Night Armistice, but he might just have a point.

Later, JJ

*I’ll defend the Robbie Fowler statement in the comments if needs be. I can sense some doubts, though that’s mainly because people really, really dislike Robbie Fowler.

The England Question... (and some Fianna Fáil bashing)

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Thu, 10 Jun 2010 21:50:00 +0000

Hey folks,

Having just come out of a sports shop in Gatwick Airport emblazoned with St George’s flags I thought I’d found the reason for Irish fans’ general pattern of hatred for England. Over the past few months, the subject of whether we should have any problem supporting Fabio Capello’s side during their exploits in South Africa has cropped up again and again in pub conversations, on radio talk shows, during awkward conversations with taxi drivers and in almost every opinion column in the nation’s newspapers

Indeed, non-football-loving columnists seem to be the biggest culprits, many of whom seem to think they’ve just written the first ‘expose’ on this subject and have found a variety of ‘definitive’ answers to the quandary. They haven’t.

Anyway, back in Gatwick it was the sheer ugliness of the St George’s flag that caught my attention. The pretty stark horror of it never really comes out until you see it on mass – be it on the stands during an England game or in a corner of JD Sports. But there it was, all over t-shirts, flags, jerseys, hats, shorts and plenty more pointless apparel.

It’s bloody hideous.

In all honesty though, I think this distaste for the flag is more to do with my brain trying to scramble around for new reasons to revel in the suffering of the English than anything else. Other justifications are falling by the wayside. Ignore the tabloids and there’s none of the press over-confidence that plagued the 2002 and 2006 World Cups in particular (well not yet). At this stage too it’s a bit tiresome bleating on about Britain’s past sins when it comes to Ireland.

It’s a generation or two since the ‘no blacks, no dogs, no Irish’ signs in England and none of those messages were plonked in the pub window by Steven Gerrard or Fabio Capello.

The latest reason most Irish fans have for despising Capello’s side is that, like McClaren and Sven’s teams before, they play woeful football. Similar to the spiritual awakening Eamonn Dunphy has experienced in the last few years, it appears we’ve all become purists who can only support slick passing football. However, I think this is only another decoy reason to dislike them.

I think the thing we really detest about the English is what we also delight in, and will continue to do so despite appeals for a more sane, all embracing approach. We hate them because they always lose.

Since the State was formed a great proportion of the Irish people have thrown their weight behind a winning side. No matter who they are or what they’re doing. When we adopt teams, we don’t adopt loveable losers. We adopt great big fat winners.

We love teams with copious league titles, we love teams which get to the latter stages of cup competitions, we love big spending, all conquering football sides. I know there are a few exceptions – I was talking to a Scunthorpe fan from Dublin last week – but on the whole, and I include myself in this, we get very caught up in trying to follow a team that will give us more happy days than sad.

Obviously, some Brits – such as cockney Man United and Liverpool fans – are just as guilty when it comes to football but I don’t think it permeates through their collective mindset like it does over here.

In day-to-day life, you only have to look at the general religious fervour adopted by supporters of Fianna Fáil for more evidence of this in our psyche. The party has been out of power for two years in the last 20. Two bloody years. Despite this they will blame anyone – from American banks to volcanoes and wars waged in far off countries – as being responsible for our woes. Not them.

Not the men and women who had complete control of budgets, taxes, legislation and development for 90% of the last two decades. It’s all down to that PD in health so it is. It’s all down to interfering independent TDs. It’s all down to “the meeja”. It’s all down to the Dáil bar to put six pints on expenses and never mind about having a second scoop lads, sure the chauffeur is bringing you back home. Result.

But do Irish people desert them? Nope. Alright Enda Kenny is about as charismatic as a particularly boring otter, but even so, more should be migrating away from Brian Cowen’s party. But no, no, they’re the lads with the power, let’s stick with them, let’s stick with the winners… and no, I don’t buy into opinion polls like the one in the Irish Times this week and believe many of us will be just as moronic next time we vote…. Wait, where was I?

Oh yeah, England…

Anyway, England will never offer that winning feeling, they only bring more heartbreak and that’s the last thing we need. Had their football history had a few more World Cups and the odd European Cup thrown in, we’d most likely have them as our second team by now.

We should be over our pettiness at this stage but England’s stubborn refusal to win and let us be at peace with getting on board a bandwagon has kept us hating them. Damn them so for not giving us a reason to love them. It’d be great, if only so we could listen to ‘World in Motion’ without a nagging sense of guilt, but for now we just can’t embrace more pain.

Perhaps we need them to win a World Cup to get it over with and test out my theory*.

Later, JJ

*Not this time though, I gave a mate 3-1 odds that they wouldn’t make the semi finals, so another quarter round exit please Lamps. Next time I’ll be more mature, I swear.

And now... the end is... now

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Thu, 03 Jun 2010 15:13:00 +0000

And like that, he's gone...

Okay, the dance video we posted last week didn't help, but taking everything into account I'd say this is a fairly dignified exit from Rafa Benitez. "It is very sad for me to announce that I will no longer be manager of Liverpool FC. I would like to thank all of the staff and players for their efforts," he said.

"I'll always keep in my heart the good times I've had here, the strong and loyal support of the fans in the tough times and the love from Liverpool. I have no words to thank you enough for all these years and I am very proud to say that I was your manager. Thank you so much once more and always remember: You'll never walk alone."

Yes the last bit is cheesy but it does make a change from his default sarcasm mode that was adopted for the vast majority of the last 18 months. Of course, the suspicion has been there from supporters for a while that the players needed to hear a new voice. Someone to cuddle up to the poor love starved millionaires. Bless.

Whatever your opinion on Rafa - and opinions of opposition fans tended to veer towards outright hatred, which sort of made me love his style - ask any Pool supporter and they'll tell you that there are monster egos and fools in that dressing room that many fans would have had gone well before Benitez (Gerrard's several personalities making up most of the bunch); and that's before we even begin to talk about the selection of horror film characters in the boardroom.

Anyway, if there is no money to spend once the new man comes in (seeing as it could be a short term thing with little cash to work with, Roy Hodgson seems the logical choice) they could do a lot better than getting rid of the foreheadless captain.

Feck the speculation though, for now, adios Rafa, thanks for the fifth European Cup at the very least... oh and for pissing off the old boys brigade of Whelan, Thompson et al, for that I am forever grateful. The shower of bastards.

Later, JJ

World Cup Songs on State of Play

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Wed, 02 Jun 2010 16:46:00 +0000

Whattup folks,

I'm on Phantom 105.2 this Thursday on a show called State of Play discussing the best and worst football songs ever created, or to be more precise World Cup songs.

Some gems I hope to mention include this MOR beauty from the New Zealand team in 1982, Germany's brush with the Village People, the obvious brilliance of 'The Flame' and, let's give them a wee bit of credit, England's 1990 gem 'World in Motion'.

Tune in if ye get the chance by clicking here at 7pm tomorrow, or you can just tune in the wireless of course.

Cheers, JJ

Dirty Dancing

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Thu, 27 May 2010 10:51:00 +0000

Oh dear. There really are no words.

Avoiding Ray Winstone

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Sat, 15 May 2010 11:28:00 +0000

When Michael Owen ran through on goal to score the winner in the 2001 FA Cup Final most Arsenal fans couldn’t believe that after 90 minutes of absolute domination they had been sucker punched twice in eight minutes and lost a game that always looked theirs.

Arsene Wenger held his head in his hands, the Arsenal end went silent save for a few angry expletives, and somewhere across the Atlantic Ocean Kevin Costner threw his bottle of Bud at his 50-inch TV screen while screaming “you little Scouse son of a bitch”.

In fact, when Sami Hyppia lifted the trophy, Costner was almost certainly out the back of his ranch shooting a racoon as some form of rage therapy.

Of course he was.

Why only a few hours prior to kick off Sky Sports had an interview with him where he professed to being “a real Gunner” and The Postman wouldn’t lie to us, would he? Sky wouldn’t just dole a celebrity in front of the cameras to pad out six hours of FA Cup final coverage would they?

Alright, in reality Costner was most likely making a three-hour epic at moment Patrick Berger’s long range pass found Owen at the Millennium Stadium, or perhaps he was trying to charm a masseuse the old fashioned way.

Obviously, Costner’s appearance that day is symptomatic of the kind of rubbish which often gets served up to football fans and masquerades as entertainment these days. A light relief from the serious business of punditry with Jamie Redknapp. In reality, it’s actually an excuse for a Sky, BBC or ITV reporter to meet someone famous and ask searching questions like “do you believe (insert team name) can do it today”.

So, with this in mind and with the FA Cup final today and World Cup on the horizon, I thought I’d lay down a marker for TV coverage over the coming six weeks; a handy default setting for all to stick by.

If, at any stage, you see Ray Winstone just turn off the TV and wait for kick off. Yes, he has a box at West Ham, yes he looks a little like Terry Venables and yes, he’s not the worst human being on the planet but why on earth do TV channels still believe that we want to hear the opinions of the sixth male lead from The Departed on relegation worries and England’s World Cup chances?

Over the past five years, Winstone has turned up on ITV and Sky on numerous occasions to spout the same lines about West Ham or his country (though the BBC have fallen into this trap as well at times) and the viewer gets treated to nuggets like “West ‘Am fans are best in the league” or about how “England fans are the best in the world int they”. Same shit, different movie to promote.

On each occasion we’re treated to a bravado filled interview which, to be fair, is usually the result of a star struck reporter trying to be matey with Winstone. Soccer AM is nowhere near as bad a show as some people make it out to be but the interview style there is a perfect example of such fawning nonsense. It’s a style which sees everyone involved desperate to prove that they’re as down to earth as a Hovis advert and not asking anything in particular, instead just throwing a series of statements at the subject in question (“you got to love Scotty Parker eh”) and waiting for agreement on the subject.

A more general note to interviewers meeting up with the often US-based Winstone would be that in 2010 everyone in the developed world realises there are different time zones across the planet. I’m pretty sure I was aware that New York is five hours behind GMT at seven years of age.

With this in mind, the revelation that (insert celebrity name here) gets up at “the crack of dawn to watch their beloved (insert team name here) in a local sports-bar while it’s the afternoon back home” is not a revelation to the TV audience watching anymore. It hasn’t been for decades.

Yet, once you get that camera back to the Football Focus couch they can’t believe the commitment of this enormously rich celebrity who chooses to go to the pub at half eight in the morning.

The rolling out of famous names to pad out coverage is, obviously, just an offshoot of BBC, ITV and Sky having zero faith in their pundits or the game they’re serving up for the audience. So expect plenty of it in the coming weeks then. I await Jude Law’s thoughts on England’s final 23-man squad with interest.

Later, JJ

Spurs!

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Wed, 05 May 2010 21:26:00 +0000

ODF 02 May Podcast Online

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Mon, 03 May 2010 09:51:00 +0000

Hi Folks,
We're finally back & our latest podcast is online now.

On the show:

Premier League & CL review.
The upcoming Ireland internationals.
And loads more.

Download it.

Subscribe.

Mark & JJ.

ODF

Savio

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Mon, 12 Apr 2010 12:10:00 +0000

I was reminded of Savio when listening to the radio the other day.

West Ham spent 9m quid on this geezer, he played ten times and scored no goals. In fact, he appears to have scored 7 goals in the entirety of his professional career.

He is a striker.

At the time of his signing, well known managerial legend Gianfranco Zola told Sky Sports News: "We have expectations of him, but we do not forget that the boy is 19 years old and he has come here for the future.

"We are going to try an improve him and make him a better player. We know that he has got great potential and can become a top player.

"But everybody needs to be patient. He wants to improve and we want to help him, but he also needs time to settle.

"The reason why we bought Savio is that we saw the potential which belongs to special players. We like to gamble, but I do not think that Savio is a gamble."

They got rid of him 6 months later in a swap deal. Bravo

Like money? Want some more?

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Wed, 27 Jan 2010 22:12:00 +0000

Then bet everything you have on this man winning every player of the year award available at the end of the season. I hate Unireh, but after tonight’s display against City and after all his efforts thus far this season you’d have to hate football to not love watching this chubby git play the game.

Gary Neville’s still a tosspot though.

JJ, ODF

Dear Carlos Tevez

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Fri, 22 Jan 2010 09:56:00 +0000

Shut up you spanner!

Bounce, bounce, bounce… it’s the weekend!

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Fri, 15 Jan 2010 21:39:00 +0000

Alright folks,

First there’s an A Team trailer; then there’s confirmation that the bloke who directed the first two Ghostbusters is coming back for the third instalment (Rick Moranis is too by the way… I know you were wondering) and then to boot, Fat Sam is in crisis at Blackburn. This week has had its fair share of ups.

But what about Liverpool you might ask? Considering my mood often directly relates to their results, considering how woeful the other night was against Reading and how Torres is out for six weeks, Yossi for four and Gerrard for two, not to mention the fact that the club still pays Ryan Babel’s wages. How can I feel okay after that? Well, after the lows that have been coming all season long this ranks as a mere four out of ten in the footballing pain stakes nowadays.

So, onwards and upwards and here’s a quick blast of predictions for Saturday’s games.

Chelsea v Sunderpants: I’ll plump for 1-0 Chelsea here, while there’s a part of me that’s hoping Guus Hiddink is there to get Roman Abramovich’s blessing to manage Liverpool, which is apparently (well according to a few English rags) needed before he can declare interest in the Anfield job.

Everton v Man City: Regular readers and listeners to the glory days of the pod will know there’s something about David Moyes I don’t like but up until now I couldn’t put my finger on it. Work rate, that’s what it is. The man demands it of his team and looks like a workaholic himself. I just can’t relate to it (he wrote, opening up a can of Arthur). I can see Moyes’ side causing a small upset here and getting the better of City 2-1.

Man U v Burnley: So very easy for Unireh. Plus they have the added bonus of revenge against a side that beat them earlier this year. I’ll go for a Rooney hat trick with three Evra assists. That would be just Fantasy League-tastic. 4-0 (with Evra getting one himself).

Pompey v Brum: A set of new owners worked out well for Birmingham while the guy who bought Portsmouth seems to have only invested around £35 in the club and that’s what it cost to get an extra large jersey for the fat git. However, Birmingham’s great run has to end somewhere and all the bizarre logic that rules football points to a home win. I’ll say 2-0 with the away side never getting out of first gear.

Stoke v Pool: Ah… Christ… Can they not leave this game for a few weeks? Any chance of more snow? A flash flood? A shower of toads? No? Ah well… actually I won’t even depress myself by writing down that Stoke will win, I’ll just trudge to the pub in the morning and hope for the best for Rafa’s misfits.

Spurs v Hull: I can’t see Hull keeping a clean sheet and as I can’t see them scoring more than one themselves there’s little or no chance of them repeating lat year’s win in North London. Easy enough 3-1 for the home side then.

Wolves v Wigan: Who knows. Let’s just play that A-Team trailer again.

Have a good one,

JJ, ODF

Reading and Ryan Babel

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 21:58:00 +0000

I’m currently watching Liverpool labouring towards yet another footballing disaster against Reading. Just thought I’d point out that if Pool get any sort of offer for the man pictured above they should take it.

They should take it and run, and when the suspicion hits that the buyers may have figured out that he has very little idea how to run with the ball and not fall over… run some more.

And as I write Shane Long just scored. Christ what a season. His first for 15 games. Of course it is.

That is all, JJ

Better with age?

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Tue, 12 Jan 2010 13:54:00 +0000

Howdy folks,

As Man City ran rings around Blackburn last night the depth of their squad was well in evidence. No Ireland, no Adebayor, no Lescott, no Toure, and no real problems getting past Fat Sam’s army of the utterly average. Amongst all their buys in the last 18 months though if there’s one sulky git who may well be able to unravel everything then it’s the large, moody presence of Paddy Vieira.

This is the man remember who gave Thierry Henry a first hand crash course in dressing room mood-swings.

Now that he’s finally got his chance to return to football in Good Old Blighty (what what what), there has to be some questions asked of the reasoning behind the richest club in the world’s decision to bring in a 33 year-old who, while he no doubt carved out a frankly brilliant few years on the domestic front in Italy, is more than likely well past his best.

That best was six years ago, in the middle of Arsenal’s unbeaten season in the Premier League. Man City’s reasoning is that quality is quality I suppose and that there will be times when he can add a touch of class to City’s midfield against the weaker sides. Also in the ‘plus column’ is his knowledge of former Inter manager Roberto Mancini meaning he may well be a good man to get the manager’s ideas across on the pitch.

Vieira himself has said that he headed to City because of a desire to get back into the French squad before the World Cup comes around and while money was obviously a factor too, his stated aim to get to the World Cup could see City weakened in vital games. Indeed the idea that he can come straight into the team perhaps shows that he still sees City through the eyes of a man who never perceived them as a title threat in his Arsenal days.

If Mancini lines up against Chelsea, Man United or Arsenal with Vieira in his team most top class midfields should outmuscle and outrun him these days. Sacrificing a good midfield combination of Ireland and Barry seems a little odd too (when both are fit obviously), with the latter especially good at doing the running of two men in most games.

There’s something about the Vieira deal that gives me the impression that it won’t last beyond the end of the season too, when more new recruits will no doubt saunter over to City. The Frenchman becoming a weak link in the midfield might mean however that those new recruits for next season line up without a trophy at their feet or possible a Champions League place to look forward too.

Another reason that City’s season is the most interesting in the Premier League this season. Plus it gives an excuse to show this again…

Later folks, JJ

Half term report of sorts… and some quick predictions involving tasteless alcoholics, a vest, an exploding head and hair gel

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Wed, 30 Dec 2009 03:21:00 +0000

Alright folks,

Initially when I sat down to write this blog I thought I’d have a run down the Premier League table for a half term report in four fairly brisk parts, taking five teams in the table at a time. There was to be some (most likely premature) conclusions, random facts, tears on my keyboard at Liverpool’s mostly wretched season, and far less praise for Birmingham than other mid-season reviews. The final point would be due to the fact that I haven’t seen a bit of them beyond the odd set of highlights this season, well there was their game at Anfield of course but that was 90 minutes of meltdown for all Pool fans so I didn’t notice much about their general play.

Just to note, I’m fairly certain most pundits who are paid to watch the league haven’t seen much of Brum either and are as surprised as anyone as to where they are. Hence filling columns with the phrase ‘hard working’ repeatedly hoping nobody notices that they aren’t the greatest experts on all the goings-on at St Andrews.

But anyway, that notion has been left behind as when I started thinking about the season thus far I realised that at ODF we’ve certainly got our cards marked with a ‘could do better’. We’re Wigan essentially. The odd decent performance but always capable of a 9-1 hammering.

While it’s been an up and down and very unpredictable season thus far – though Villa’s last two games and Spurs patchy form points towards yet more failed top four ambitions – I have to say that the last six months have been something of a footballing nadir in my world anyway and the lack of blogs attest to that (Mark meanwhile has embraced the NFL this year such is his fuhbal disillusion and indeed most Sundays at Vance Towers he can be seen jabbing a foam hand in the air screaming ‘Go Broncos Wooooo’).

Pool collapsing has been a huge disappointment on my side obviously, particularly in the Champions League as repeating last year’s league performance was always going to be difficult. The wind has really been taken out of my sails (as it has for half the nation) by Paris in November though.

Yes, I’m digging that up but it’s the last time. Ireland has done wonderfully well in other sports this year but let me just put this in perspective for any end-of-year sports specials on RTE, Newstalk, The Irish Times or elsewhere. Putting it bluntly, for a very, very large section of the population we could win five Grand Slams on the trot, have six world boxing champions, win every major horse race going for the next decade while Padraig Harrington could win all four majors with a series of trick shots while moonwalking and it could never, ever make up for the deflating events that culminated in Richard Dunne somehow resisting the urge to punch Thierry Henry after that smug git decided to get some good PR in the wake of his handball.

Then we all have to deal with the British press who are obviously obsessed with the World Cup as we enter 2010, meanwhile sports calendars are being released with every Sunday paper with the focus of their attention being that magical month of football next summer… it’s still all a bit much for me and for many out there. Ireland should be there and we are not. We are left only to boo two sides instead of one this time around as some sort of comfort.

A new year is arriving though and with it a great title race, a fantastic Champions League draw and some entertaining sides – West Ham and Portsmouth – spicing up the race to the bottom. I’m legally obliged to care about the FA Cup and Europa League this year to boot so frankly the batteries are starting to charge again. All of the previous details points towards an excellent five and half months before the World Cup. Rehab for those in the midst of football hell.

So, with a... lets call it ‘informative’ few months behind us here’s a few predictions for the New Year.

* Broncos to go out early in the play offs and Mark to fall in love with football again and as Nani leaves Unireh.
* Chelsea to sneak the league by two points on the last day.
* Champions League places to Arse, Unireh and…. Spurs (they always let me down so go reverse psychology baby!)
* Relegation for… Hull, Portsmouth and Bolton. Stoke to go a lot closer to the bottom this year and West Ham to escape with a week left to ensure another meandering article from Russell * Brand in The Guardian. ‘Mark Noble, he’s like a investigative sardine him... etc etc’
* David Moyes’ head to explode Scanners-style following a bad decision from a linesman.
* Tony Pulis to dress down even more and turn up for games in a wife beater vest, a Boddingtons baseball cap and some jeans with elasticised waistband. The latter were borrowed from James Beattie (bah-dhum-tish!)
* Rafa to begin speaking only in mobile ringtones. After victories he will use that awful Black Eyed Peas song about “good good nights” that alcoholics with little musical taste and idiots in general seem to love; while he’ll rely on ‘The Power of Love’ by Frankie Goes to Hollywood in the face of defeat in order to appeal to the fans emotions.
* Newcastle to spend €60 million on Zlatan after promotion only for him to lose both legs on a night out with Joey Barton.
* Real Madrid to win the Champions League against Man United, Ronaldo to cry for 40 minutes solid alternating between anguish and delight, stopping midway through to check the quiff.

Later, JJ

What a great set of balls... in the draw

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 12:39:00 +0000

Boomsticks!

What a draw for the Champions League.

Inter Milan v ChelseaLyon v Real MadridAC Milan v Manchester UnitedOlympiakos v BordeauxFC Porto v ArsenalCSKA Moscow v SevillaStuttgart v BarcelonaBayern Munich v Fiorentina

Mourinho back should he not get fired beforehand, Goldengimp heading back to the Theatre of Wolves Reserves and Karim Benzema huffing and puffing on the bench back at Lyon.

There’s some excellent ties and – mini prediction time – I’m going to go for the shock being Barcelona losing away to Stuttgart. Now, they’ll probably hammer them back at Camp Nou Nou Camp Stadium Megadrome but I fancy the Germans to really put it up to that bunch of insanely talented munchkins from Catalonia.

Elsewhere, Arsenal should progress, but the Bayern/Fiorentina and CSKA/Sevilla games look quite close calls. All in all an excellent set of fixtures plus they’re being spread over four weeks rather than two to get in maximum TV coverage. Phat Pat Dolan may be able to afford that reinforced lazyboy chair after all.

All in all, a good start to the day, now for the Europa League draw, the real business end of things... and Pool get Unirea Urziceni.

Well, I think we know the game all Europe will be watching that week then.

Later folks, JJ

Performance Art Predictions

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Sat, 12 Dec 2009 12:58:00 +0000

This week I will be mostly doing predictions in style of characters from a major budget fantasy epic. (Note: This may run out of steam early on – the bits where I crowbar in Mark Noble and Scott Parker’s names may be too much for some for instance, so feel free to skip to the actual predicted results, then ignore, place bet, win money).

Hull v Blackburn: (Courtesy of frightened villager): “Argh!! Fear the demon of Hull… he has the face of some minion of the devil, look away from the beady eyes! Look away from this demon who disguises himself under the cloak of a poorly trained jester – fear that Jimmy of Bullard, fear him and his wagging finger… (calming down) Thankfully he’s knacked his knee so there be only the strange mystery of ‘The McShane’ to fear for Hull this weekend, his curse is to be consistently confused as to which side he fights for, poor idiot boy. Hopefully fate is kind and he only costs them a few of these things that fancy folk in Sky Sports Towers call ‘points’. It’d be 1-1.”

Man Utd v Aston Villa: (In the style of noble wizard) “Beware the realm of the red nosed dark lord and his wicked cry of ‘theresnodouaboutha’. Placate him first with some mead, then… well more mead. Should this tactic work for the army of Villains led by the paranoid Irishman, they may yet sneak some solace for the theatre decked in shellfish… it usually ends in defeat for them here though, and dark times may be ahead for the cursed Sir Steve ‘Forever Ginge’ of Sidwell… 3-1.”

Birmingham v West Ham: (Shakespearean actor as an evil king) “Release the Bowyer!” (insert crowd gasping and several men vomiting at the sight they see in front of them) “Ah yes, cower before the horrid sight that no Noble man nor oddly haired nosey Parker can stop in its tracks. Behold the ugly face of this game of ball and foot.”
**(At this point the director yells cut and the Shakespearean actor reveals his true Cockney accent) “But then again their defence is shiiiiiiiiite innit, farck it, get down the bookies and put 20 quid on 1-2 West ‘Am.”

Bolton v Man City: (Shakespearean actor as a good king) “Release the Brazilian trickster who so plays with his people’s emotions. Let him run this O’Brien fool back to whatever corner of Kilburn he came from. Victory to the New Kingdom! 0-2.”

Burnley v Fulham: (As shouted by a commoner army general made good) “On my wuddy command, welease the Duffer, the bwundering Viking and the unpwedicatable Zamowa on these Buwnwey ‘alf wits.” 1-2.

Sunderland v Portsmouth: (As told by a Norse god-fearing monk) “O’Hara, Boateng, Kanu, can you hear me Kanu, can you hear me? Repent, repent! Give up this earthly need for riches and play for Portsmouth instead where we do not trifle with monetary gain and play merely for rewards beyond gold coins. I speak of such things as Danielle Lloyd, pleasing the peasant fanbase and... and… ah… line… (in amongst struggling for another positive he admits it’ll most likely be a home win, 2-0) …

Chelsea v Everton: (Courtesy of American actor who can’t do a decent English accent so doesn’t bother and has Arnie-esque one liners thrown into the script as he can’t remember words with more than two syllables). “Repent this, asshole… 3-1”.

Tottenham v Wolverhampton: (Courtesy of American actor who couldn’t do a decent English accent before but who’s now two months into the shoot and making a vague effort). “Hear the words of Robertus Keaneuss and fear his shiny shell-suited wrath, he will have his revenge on his former kingdom… asshole! Four-zip, get my latte.”

Sunday
Liverpool v Arsenal: (As told by a wizard who believes he’s above this whole production) “In this ancient home of victory, now doused all too often in defeat, look towards the top corner lair of the silver-suited Redknapp Boy. Once a promising warrior, who succumbed to injuries resulting from armour three sizes too small for him; when he says ‘top top’ not for the first, not for the second, but for the third time it will be the signal that battle will commence.
The gypsy Russian will have to be watched, the babbling home centre back who speaks in tongues may well find him too much to cope with. The only hope perhaps for the home nation is the two foreigners chiselled from glass, Torres and Aquilani. 2-2 I predict, 2-2 and Redknapp’s knees to burst from lack of blood at half time.”

Later folks, next week's predictions will be in the style of a latter-career Steven Seagal movie. Expect about 150 words then.

JJ, ODF

Back with a bang, well a headbutt…

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Wed, 09 Dec 2009 00:56:00 +0000

Alright folks,

Well, that took longer than expected – after a few weeks of generally being fecked off with football (Blatter breaking his tiny balls laughing at Ireland, everyone else having difficulty holding on to their pints while laughing at Liverpool) alongside a bunch of pre-Christmas work and selling the story on Mark’s Tiger Woods affair to the highest bidder (headline: Tiger Hits Blogger Bogey), the blog has been left to gather dust.

Though, in fairness ye shouldn’t give a rat’s arse about the above, so I’ll march on and try to keep up a better ratio of blogs this month, which should be easy enough considering stories of Premier League Christmas parties usually involve enough material for a book never mind regular 500-word updates including links back to John Terry/Rio Ferdinand/Jermaine Defoe’s previous discretions.

It’s a solid tradition of highly paid professional athletes embarrassing themselves upon going within 100 yards of a beer for the first time in months. Liverpool’s fancy dress party has seen all manner of idiocy over the years, from David Burrows deciding the world was ready to get over that whole ‘holocaust thing’ by dressing as a Nazi to Jamie Carragher’s contretemps with a stripper also made for funny reading. There was also Man Unireh’s genius ‘ten women to every man’ party planning genius of a few years back as well so hopefully the festive season brings a few gems such as these.

This year, Stoke got things running earlier than expected as manager Tony Pulis apparently nutted James Beattie in the dressing room at The Emirates as the latter bitched over having to work on Monday morning after the players’ Christmas Party on Saturday. Ignoring the fact that this must rank as a certain form of achievement in getting the Christmas party scandal out of the way before the actual party itself, and ignoring the bigger fact that Beattie always comes across as a complete cock in interviews, in this case I think it was the player that was right.

Pulis, a manager who prides himself on appearing to be a no-nonsense, sensible man manager may well have lost the dressing-room having attempted to behead last year’s top scorer; the £3.5 million punt that covered up his enormous ginger failure Dave Kitson. With Beattie seen as somewhat of a leader in the Stoke side (well that’s according to several news reports anyway) Pulis now finds himself trying to placate the talented frontman or else get rid. The latter may see the side struggle towards the end of the season and Steve Coppell can tell him all about second season syndrome resulting in relegation if Pulis fancies a chat.

How the whole situation plays out in the Christmas period – where Stoke face both Aston Villa and Man City - will be interesting. Beyond their travails though the collected mishaps of Christmas parties across the Premier League are most likely coming to a dirty redtop rag near you soon.

Any guesses as to what Terry, Lamps, Ledley ‘can someone help this man to the door’ King and Steven ‘he wouldn’t play me Phil Collins la’ Gerrard will get up to?

JJ, ODF

Undone by a Wire quote…

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 15:36:00 +0000

Well...

To say last night took the wind out of my sails is a vast understatement. I felt physically sick at the end of the game, a feeling not helped by the vision of a horrid triumvirate of egos smiling away on our screens in the bowels of the Stade de France as Sarkozy, Domenech and… sorry, just had to hold off from vomiting for a second there… Ged Houllier laughed about how the plucky Irish had been undone by cheating.

Good god, can we not catch a break?

Despite the earlier post, and despite the fact that right now I hope France crash out of the World Cup in the first round with a spate of injuries and diseases along with one, possibly two of William Gallas’ legs amputated along the way, most likely those feelings will pass with time. Henry did what most players would do, or least most players as clever as he is would do; it’s horrible that it happened but begrudgingly understandable. His reputation will be tarnished well beyond next summer though, and for a man as evidently egotistical as the Barcelona man, you’d imagine that will hurt.

One thing that won’t pass in a few months or decades even, is the feeling of disgust at Martin Hansson and his assistant referee. In amongst all of game’s aftermath what really makes me ill is the image of Hansson – who in fairness had a top notch game otherwise – pointing to his side, treating the Irish players like children and claiming he was “100 per cent certain” there was no handball involved. He wasn’t. He lied.

A man paid very well do to a job that has huge financial implications told a lie in the middle of the biggest moment of his career. His linesman bottled it to boot. They refused to go against the flow of an 80,000 strong crowd, and if they say anything else that’ll be more lies. As Trapattoni said today, it was the referee who should have sought out Henry, not the other way around.

The game, the cheating, and the frankly disgraceful officiating have been covered elsewhere and let’s face it we all have the same opinion – even the readers of Le Monde have the same opinion – Ireland deserved to go through, but as Snoop said in The Wire, “deserve ain’t got nothin to do with it”. And unfortunately, Snoop is right.

************************************************

There’s something about Miriam… and Gilesey

After the match of course came the TV dissection and one thing it proved is that if there’s one man alive who wishes that the internet had never been invented, it has to be Johnny Giles.

After 30 minutes of going through the mechanics of our missed chances, whether Henry ‘meant’ it and what would we say if the ‘ball had been on the other hand’ as it were, Billo piped up with an email they’d just gotten in from a woman named Miriam who said that Johnny’s views were “patronising”; that Henry (or “Anrae” as Johnny pronounces it) coldly meant his handball that lead to the French equaliser.

Johnny rolled his eyes and wondered how he could politely tell Miriam that she was wrong. Indeed, you could see him wondering how we had come to a time when Miriam was allowed to even get involved in a conversation between a Leeds legend, a Liverpool legend and… well Eamon Dunphy. Anyone who has listened to Gilesey’s guffaws at some short-sighted fans’ opinions during his Newstalk slot on Thursday nights will know Johnny has little time for fools.

“Miriam right” said Eamon, unsure of what she was right about but seemingly delighted that this might goad his colleague into a reaction. Giles, vaguely agitated but seeing Dunphy’s bait for what it was, just told people to listen to what he was saying. A complaint from Maurice in Churchtown followed, aimed this time at Souness, leading Dunphy to inquire, like a spurned lover, “is nobody complaining about me?”

Back to Miriam though, and as much as she has a right to her views you’d have to hope – and Giles certainly does – that RTE don’t go down the road of Sky and others by putting weight into the opinion of emails and texts from irate fans. We tune into the national broadcaster’s soccer coverage because of the expert opinions it presents us with. We may not be going to the World Cup but with this team in place we’ll still be entertained for a month solid next summer.

Miriam, Maurice and Martin Hansson can go elsewhere if they don’t like it.

Later folks,

JJ, ODF

A sample of the hatred Henry has coming to him… and he very much deserves it

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 13:00:00 +0000

Howdy folks,

Well, it’s only early doors but already it’s becoming clear that forever more Thierry Henry will be known as a vile cheat on these shores, a man worthy of every ounce of disrespect he receives in the coming days, months, and years ahead not to mention – oh yes I hope it’ll be written when it happens – in his obituary. ‘Thierry Henry: noted cheat and razorblade hustler, passes away’.

Alright, that’s over the top and there will be some perspective in a blog later, but for the minute I thought I’d pass these on.

Later, JJ

Le final countdown…

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 01:25:00 +0000

Well people,

Many moons ago the start of Sports Stadium on RTE 2 was heralded each Saturday by the opening bars of The Final Countdown. In amongst the opening montage of sporting highlights (scoring the odd point against England in the rugby, Charlie Haughey ‘winning’ the Tour de France with Stephen Roche, Eamonn Coghlan looking absolutely fecked and Pat Spillane looking more red faced than usual) there was that wonderful image of Gerry Peyton, number 22 in that gloriously grey Irish keeper’s jersey, rushing to celebrate with the rest of his teammates, joining the mountain of bodies surrounding David O’Leary after he’d secured our place in the World Cup quarter finals in 1990.

We’re an odd footballing nation – our greatest tournament performance involved five games, two goals scored and no wins – but the possibility of repeating those scenes from 19 years ago may need to involve our oddest twist yet. Can we change from defensive pragmatists to eager goal getters on a huge night in Paris? Well, maybe.

First off, like nearly everyone else who watched the game at the weekend I’d be happier if there was less of a reliance on the long ball game. As I mentioned to a friend the other day who was also lamenting the manner in which our full backs gave the ball away constantly in Saturday’s defeat, it seems that the long ball isn’t even about building a quick attack. Instead, it seems to be a quick route to creating a 50/50 chance of a foul being given against a defender going for the header, creating a dead ball chance for us.

It’s great if it works but most of the time on Saturday, France either won the long ball or the referee waved away the appeals of Kevin Doyle and Robbie Keane when they went to ground. The less long ball the better but while I’m sure Trapattoni will ask his side to remain a little calmer, I fully expect to see a more than a few punts up front as the 90 minutes pass.

All in all, I don’t really have any complaints about the defence; that we can’t produce a natural left back is a concern for another time. In midfield, Andrews and Whelan were unspectacular but hard working, words which no doubt be passed down through generations when discussing their partnership, and in fairness to them they played an awful lot more football in the first leg of this tie than they have done in previous outings when they seemed to operate merely as defensive shields. They’re growing into international football and hopefully that growth gathers a burst of pace in Paris.

Liam Lawrence however looked knackered after 50 minutes, the pressure of creating chances while trying to keep up with the greyhound on two legs that is Patrice Evra clearly getting to him. It looks like he’ll start but hopefully if McGeady comes on it’ll be a little earlier to make a real difference. Duff too looked tired but you get the feeling that there could be one huge performance from the Ballinteer man to come on Wednesday night. Too often the frustrated bystander, this may be Duff’s chance to seize the moment and hopefully he can create a few chances for the front two.

And with that we move on to Robbie and Kevin. While Jim Beglin may never speak to me again (though, he’s been avoiding me for about 30 years thus far so it won’t be a major life change), and while it’s far more fashionable to pick on Robbie Keane’s moaning and missed chances, Kevin Doyle just has not been doing enough up front for Ireland of late. I can’t remember this supposed physical dynamo holding the ball up all that often, winning too many high balls or even – and remember what his job description is – testing the bloody keeper in any internationals of late.

Doyle needs a big performance, but not a toiling one where he sweats, gets clapped off by the crowd but has no highlights reel expect for some willing running. In short I suppose, if we are to have any chance of getting our first win in Paris since the 1930s, all our big players have to have big games.

Yes the head says Paris will celebrate the French going through, but there is enough of a chance there to be hopeful. Not confident, just hopeful. Cheesy as it sounds, nothing is impossible – remember Bulgaria in 1993 winning in the French capital. Remember any number of football miracles in this decade and indeed French collapses on the big stage (’02 v Senegal, ’04 v Greece, ’08 v everybody). It doesn’t happen often but it does happen.

Just remember Gerry Peyton lads, all he did was run from the centre circle slower than anyone else and he’s remembered still (even if it is only by unashamed obsessives like me and always to the finest tune of a dodgy hair metal band).

Make some chances, make some history, make Lassana Diarra cry, make Ireland very, very happy.

COME ON!!!
JJ

Chelsea v Unireh…

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 15:38:00 +0000

Alright folks,

There may be other fixtures this weekend, and there may be plenty of other issues up and down the league but when I sat down to do a predictions blog for this Saturday, Sunday and Monday three words stopped me in my tracks. ‘Fat Sam’ and ‘Lawrenson’.

Scanning through a fixture list that looks odds on for a few one-alls, the odd thrashing and Phil Brown losing his job once James Beattie scores for Stoke I thought it best to leap over the Lawro-isms and get on to the big business of the league’s top two sides battering each other on Sunday afternoon. (Also, trying to predict a Liverpool game is too weighty on the soul at the minute).

Just the word ‘Blackburn’ turns my stomach now, with images conjured of the ugly, bullshitting, bad tempered, mildly disfigured koala that is Sam Allardyce picking yet another needless fight in his press conferences, alongside the similarly horrific-to-look-at football they play. Let’s just say I hope they get beaten heavily by Pompey and that Sam ends up in the lower leagues ASAP.

Not that the Chelsea and United always play beautiful football of course. Both of these sides can get hugely robotic when they want to and, in both cases when confronted by other big sides (both with Barcelona last season for instance) they can be as quick as an elderly Italian manager who shall remain nameless to revert to a safety-first game. There is however, something brilliantly compelling whenever these two meet. Well except for that dead rubber league game involving Chris Eagles a few years back.

The Champions League final of two seasons ago is a perfect example and, mainly due to the concentration on John Terry’s wonderfully poetic penalty miss, it’s a game that is often overlooked as one of the best ‘major’ matches of the decade. Finals, semi finals and huge clashes between big sides are often woeful affairs.

I’d put that game alongside Barcelona’s three-all (Messi hat trick included) against Madrid a few seasons back, Italy and Germany’s immense World Cup semi final in 2006, Istanbul in 2005 and a few more as one of the most complete games of the decade but unfortunately not even Didier Drogba’s stupid sending off is remembered as “Terry’s Tears TM” dominate any flashbacks.

Chelsea, the home side on Sunday, have to be favourites due to Rio Ferdinand’s injury problems and United’s shambolic defensive display on Tuesday. Add in an in-form Drogba, the excellent Anelka, and the ever reliable Laaaaaaaaaamps and they should score a goal or two, though considering their problems at set pieces Vidic may well score as many as Drogba come Sunday.

Carlo Ancelloti has a 100% record at home in the league, and the last two times he’s locked horns with Ferguson he’s won out over two Champions League legs in ’05 (with a little help from Roy Carroll closing his eyes in case a Pirlo shot hit him in the face) and handsomely in ’07, winning the second leg three-nothing at home having been very unlucky to lose to a last minute Rooney goal in England the week before.

For United, considering everyone else has been calling time on the careers of various players so far this season (Carragher, Ferdinand, King) I’m going out on a limb to say Paul Scholes will never make a difference for United in a big game again. Yeah, yeah he scored on Tuesday and bedazzles Stoke and West Ham whenever he plays them but in this type of game I think he’ll be lost in the slipstream of Chelsea’s midfield with possibly his only hope being Deco to start, so that the ginger nut won’t be the only once great, now not quite great midfielder who can’t tackle on show.

Now while all this should be the cue for Scholes to score twice, set up another and solve a murder mystery during Sunday’s game I’m sticking to my guns. I’m going for United’s midfield to get their arses handed to them even more effectively than Lucas and Mascherano did a few weeks back and the home side to win 3-1.

Enjoy the weekend folks, JJ, ODF

Solace in the random

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 09:19:00 +0000

Alright folks,

It does seem a long, long time ago since Lucas was in that happy place I referred to in my previous post. First up, and before I get on to my main point, last night, as I watched Liverpool meander towards a draw when they should have won, I tried to think when I last had such little confidence in a player as I do in Andriy Voronin.

From the way Monster Masch shouted consistently at the oddly-haired Ukrainian I doubt there’s many men who turn up for training each day at Melwood who have any confidence in him either.

A free transfer okay, but the club still has to pay his wages and after who knows how many thousands into his bank account this week and the past few years as well, the best thing about him is that he looks like a vaguely sound bouncer at a metal bar. In fact, himself and Sotiris Kyrgiakos – so very much at fault for the Lyon goal – could easily prop up their wages turning away underage Amon Armarth fans from somewhere called ‘The Rusty Hole’, ‘The Full Metal Whack It’ or something similarly woeful.

In plenty of pages today you’ll find run downs on Liverpool’s faults so I won’t go over them here – indeed I’m becoming aware that due to the less regular nature of the blog this season far too many of the posts have concerned the team I support. So I’ll move to the opposite end of the field last night.

While it’s horrible to admit this less than two weeks before Ireland play off for a place in the World Cup with France, Lyon and fellow countrymen Bordeaux, are proving that there’s life outside of La Liga and the Premier League yet, with Marseille challenging Madrid and Milan in their group as well, French football is on a high. Stuttgart’s showing against Sevilla was also a good kick in the nads for the Champions League.

Even the strength of Meeeelan (copyright James Richardson) against Real Madrid was a another boost for those that think this may be a good year in the Champo Leaguo. A peculiar semi final line up (ie only one English side included) could be in order and frankly, it’s what the competition needs.

Tuesday at the San Siro was hardly David against a hairy Russian boxer but it was a big confirmation of a return to form for one of Europe’s great leagues. With Pool all but gone from the competition, as a (soon to be) neutral the more newbies and odd names that stay in the competition the better.

Back soon folks, have a good one,
JJ, ODF

Lucas in his happy place … and welcome to crisisville Man City

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 19:28:00 +0000

Alright folks,

Well at least The Apprentice is on this evening as, after a heroic amount of Smithwicks yesterday, I’m good for nothing other than ordering pizzas and flicking channels. What will the Breffmeister get up to this week eh?

Back to the football and beyond the Pool game – as most of the papers have dissected that thoroughly and I feel the pictures above and below sum up my reaction to the win for the home side – both Arsenal and Man City lost two goal leads yesterday and both are lucky their capitulations have been relegated to minor reports in today’s sports pages. However, while the Gooners can count themselves a tad unlucky, City’s expensively assembled defence continue to look very ropey and should be a huge concern to Mark Hughes.

There’s the outrageously overrated Joleon Joleon Joleon Joleeeeonnnnnnnnnn Lescott, the formerly outrageously overrated Micah Richards, alongside the distinctly average pair of Wayne Bridge and Kolo Toure; the more you see of them together, the more they don’t look like a defence that will help them into the top four.

They’ve now gone seven games without a clean sheet and surely the leadership of Richard Dunne, so brilliant in the past few years for City and continually excellent for Ireland, would have made a difference yesterday and indeed as the season moves onwards. Playing for two managers with absolute faith in him – Martin O’Neill and Giovanni Trapattoni – Dunne has excelled.

There was the suspicion that it was the owners of City rather than Hughes that wanted to usurp Dunne with Lescott; trading an established international centre back for a player who struggled whenever Everton went into Europe and who was a cause for alarm any time he touched the ball in most England appearances. Like Beckham-era Real Madrid, Louis van Gaal’s Barca and other teams have proven in the past, sides that spend money almost exclusively on banner names, with little thought to knitting a side together, tend to win precisely feck all as the season wares on.

As Pool’s season gets in to gear (he said with fingers crossed), as Chelsea kick back into action, United get a wake up call and Arsenal, well continue to be Arsenal, City may find themselves a few more dropped points away from being the new crisis club in the league.

Right, where’s that pizza menu….

Later, JJ

Quick prediction for today…

noreply@blogger.com (ODF) — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 13:07:00 +0000

Good god it’s hard to be positive for any Pool fan after the last few weeks but there’s something about this that reminds me of an eight game spell without a win before heading to the Theatre of Prawns and winning one nil earlier this decade.

It was a Danny Murphy lob that, what with fate being an absolute bastard, kept Gerard Houllier in a job for two seasons longer than was necessary.

The losing may stop today again, winning though… a bridge too far perhaps and I’d still stick with Benitez no matter what the result is today anyway. I’ll go for an entertaining 2-2… and Michael Owen will score. He will celebrate. And he is, as today will confirm, Satan in Sports Casual.

Enjoy, JJ