Sport Bullet Blog

Sport Bullet Has Moved!!

2010-07-22T13:23:00.003-04:00

After a year of writing, Sport Bullet has moved to its plush new residence at www.sportbullet.com

To keep up to date with all my latest ramblings, and for a chance to use the sites new features please go to the new address here.

I know its a pain in the ass but please remember to change you bookmarks, and RSS address, as this page will no longer be making new updates.

The new RSS feed can be found here

Look forward to seeing you at Sport Bullet's new home.

England Wage Psychological Warfare

2010-06-25T00:15:00.000-04:00

And I am sure that will be the first of many war related puns that will fire from nearly every media cannon, as England make there way to Bloemfontein, where hostilities with the ze Germans will once again be reopened.

Finally, after the embarrassment of the gifted equaliser against the US, and the barely watchable stalemate with Algeria, Capello has managed to find the illusive key to unlock the psychological shackles that seem to cripple England when ever they reach a major tournament. Almost from the first whisle, England seemed to play with far greater freedom against the Slovenia in the deciding final group match.

To label the performance, as something that would give promise to World Cup glory would be a slight overstatement, but it did prove that when England can get beyond the underwear soiling pressure, they are capable of producing something close to the football we see week in week out in the Premiership.

After the game the relief and joy that beamed from Fabio Capello's face, whilst giving an interview was palpable. "The mind is free" Capello exclaimed, before being baffled by a question that described England's performance as being released from shackles.

For a short time the minds of England's players are free to run unabated from the penitentiary they usually reside in. However, if the opening round was enough to lock 'em up, then the predictable engagement with Germany, is sure to throw away the key. This is a rivalry, that the Germans, always seem to have a psychological strangle hold over England.

The worst aspect of the rivalry, besides it being so one-sided in favour of the Germans, is that in their minds, England are note even seen as a rival. It ceases to exist. Something that was revealed to me in dry, flippant demeanor by a German friend and his compatriots over some beers last year. There I was, half cut after one to many bier's, surrounded by Germans that towered over me as though I were a school boy lost in the staff room of a German school. Admittedly, and with reason, feeling some what inferior to the friendly giants traipsing around me, drinking beers by the gallon, I mustered up the courage to mention the fierce rivalry between us and the Germans. Citing that the war, penalty shoot outs loses since Italia 90 and the 5-1 win in Munich had conspired to create hatred both ways. To which, astoundingly was met with a shrug of the shoulders, a chuckle and genuine confusion. "No, we do not see Ingland as rivals" they bellowed. "No (I could say nien for added dramatic affect but I will resist), we hate the Dutch." So, I asked "why this hatred for the dutch, and not England?" Almost jealous in my curiosity. The answer to which was that apparently, the Dutch use their motorways during the holidays season, and drive to slowly on the autobahn. By this point all I could do was cry in to my German Beer. Bloody dutch and their slow driving, stealing our rivalry.

So, If we do managed to over come the psychological warfare that the Germans will no dealt inflict upon us, albeit unwittingly, it will be an empty victory. Therefore we will have to reminisce on the Falklands, with the prospects of Argy-bargy potentially waiting in the Quarters.

5 Steps to Save England's World Cup Venture

2010-06-20T14:13:00.010-04:00

Back in January this year, I provided Rafael Benitez with a complimentary 5 step guide to follow, that guaranteed to revive Liverpool's stalling season and get them into the Champions League position that every club would happily sell there Grandmother for. Had Benitez chose not to shun the enlightening guide, he might have secured 4th spot, and not found himself extricated to the boredom of Italian football, with Internazionale.

Such is my willingness to offer the likes of Benitez with unrivaled wisdom, in a selfless act, I have this time provided Fabio Capello with 5 steps to save England's World Cup venture. All of the steps should be followed without question, to the letter and in the stated order. Failure to follow in this manner will void the guarantee of qualification for the second round. So without further delay......

1. The Fans
First and foremost, bar the oppressive fans from the stadium, and from watching live indefinitely. The public's insatiable desire for success, fueled by an unrelenting delusional media, has become a heavy burden for England. The pressure to repay the fans support is simply too much for the millionaire professionals, who's every wayward touch stirs the resentment of each fan that has forked out thousands to be in South Africa. How dare they boo the team against Algeria, sparking sarcastic retort from Rooney. Until we have regained the respect of Rooney, we will be banished to solitary confinement, where impending English escapades will be relayed by vidi printer, and the cold sterile tone of the results announcer over the radio. Strictly no images or video footage.

2. The Kits
Apparently, you can judge a great deal about a person by the tidiness of his or her shoes, once said by many a mother. The same, unfortunately can not be said about England's pristine tailored strips, which act like a veil of incompetence each time a player dares to pull one on. To rid the players of the shackles that are the 3 lions on the shirts, allow -actually insist- that they play in their corresponding club shirts, which they play far better in, week in week out in the Premier League. We could even go as far as to rename the tournament the FA Premier League World Cup, just to help further deceive the England players that they are playing club football.

3. The Left Wing Problem
Ah, yes that old gem. Given Capello's defiance in bringing Adam Johnson, a true left footed winger with his squad to South Africa, the next best thing would be little old Joe Cole. Cole is obviously not a winger in the traditional sense of the word, but he can play with his left foot, and will obey when told to stick to the sideline. Unlike Gerrard, who drifts away from the treacherous left wing, like I drift away from defensive duties when playing for Toronto Celtic.

4. The frustrated Talisman
Short of dropping Wayne Rooney, for his lackluster displays thus far, deploy him as a lone striker, as he is for Manchester United where he managed 26 goals this season. Then, move Gerrard in behind as the supporting striker. This in turn would allow Barry to play as a defensive midfielder while Lampard links up the play, between defense and attack. Done and done. This tactical nonsense really isn't rocket science.

5. David Beckham
If he is going to insist on sitting on the bench with the team, then equally we should insist that he be kitted up and ready to play at a moments notice. He only suffered an Achilles injury, no big deal. Even if his injury does render him immobile from the ankle up, just stick him in a wheel chair on the right wing, which he can gently rise from for the occasional pin point cross. The wheel chair could also be used to move the incapacitated Beckham to critical freekick positions, where again he clamber from, and get England out of jail with a curling freekick.

Finally, if Capello chooses to ignore this guide, and you are an England supporter I have one last piece of advice. Lower your expectations. We are mediocre. Accept the tag gracefully. On a bad day we will struggle to qualify for tournaments, on a good day we will reach a quarter final. That's it. Whilst maniacally staring into a mirror, shout the sentence "we are a mediocre team" 3 times, with your face painted in the colours of St Georges flag, followed by a deep inhale of breath after yelp. Once the self remonstrations is complete, and the tears have began to make the red run like mascara, you will feel a sense of calm acceptance wash over you, a truly life changing experience. Since Italia 90 I have witnessed 20 years of unfulfilled apparent potential, and I no longer get angry. Though, I might have to vigorously demonstrate those breathing exercises come Wednesday night, against Slovenia.

Victoria v Toronto Celtic

2010-06-17T22:11:00.000-04:00

I said at the beginning of the season that in order to witness the beautiful game in its purest example, you would be better off tuning in to Toronto's TSSL division 2, than watching the boring World Cup. Given the pitiful amount of goals so far in South Africa, in comparison to the 9 goal thriller contested between Victoria and Toronto Celtic on Tuesday evening, my statement holds true! And, by the way, no amount of unnecessary red cards will make up for the lack of goals in South Africa.

After both teams spent the opening moments testing the water, Toronto Celtic soon jumped in feet first at the deep end, with the first of many goals in the match. After being released down the right wing, Lucero scampered towards the byline then swung in his cross towards the far post. However, the cross soon turned shot, lobbing the keeper and looping in to the far corner. Just the start Celtic were looking for.

Soon after, Celtic doubled their advantage, finding yet more joy down the right wing. The Victoria sweeper was playing far too deep, leaving plenty of space for Celtic behind the opponents defense.
Teague collected a neat chipped pass from Prior, then ran towards the byline before lashing his effort in to the net from a tight angle.

Just as perhaps a little bit of complacency might have started to creep in, with Celtic threatening to run riot without breaking much of a sweat, Victoria fortuitously pegged one back. After a lively start to the game at right back, Suzuki lost concentration for a second with a short throw back to Fourie in goal. The lanky Victoria striker was quick to pounce, and soon latched on to the throw before rounding Fourie. To rub salt in, Suzuki's luck soon went from bad to worse, after a clash of bodies following a corner, left him in agony on the deck with what looked like a broken wrist. Later, x-rays would confirm those fears, and all of Celtic wish the industrious Suzuki a speedy recovery.

Despite the injury to Suzuki, Celtic soon reestablished their two goal lead. After being awarded a freekick about 15 yards from the corner of the box, Prior floated in a curling ball, picking out O'Connor who tucked away a thunderous header into the bottom corner. Set pieces between the pair are slowly becoming something that verges on the telepathic.

Victoria were to have the last say of the half though, after winning a corner just before the first 45 were up. Given the frame of the 6ft 5" plus Victoria Striker, the danger was obvious. However, despite tight marking, the Victoria player managed to find some space at the back post before sending his commanding header to the opposite side of the goal, making it 3-2.

Celtic will have feel aggrieved having conceded so close to half time, but things were to worsen almost immediately after the break. Having failed to clear their lines after another long ball towards the big Victoria striker, had reeked havoc in the Celtic defense, the loose ball conveniently made its way to the Victoria striker, who once again made no mistake with a one on one with Fourie. For the first time in the game, besides the opening whistle, Victoria were level.

Celtic were to prove that they were not about to give up the chase though, and moments later were awarded a penalty, after another one of those bursting sprints into the box from Brooks, had tempted the opposition into a lunging challenge. Prior made no mistake with the spot kick, burying his strike putting Celtic back in front 4-3.

To keep in line with the biased theme than runs deep through these match reports, conveniently their fourth goal evades my memory. I will hazard a guess that it involved a long ball and their giant forward causing trouble in a our defensive ranks. That's what happened with their fifth. After a high ball was lobbed in to the mixer, Celtic were unable to clear the ball comfortably, and eventually the ball fell to a Victoria player just inside the right hand corner of the box, who exquisitely finished with a lobbed effort into the opposite corner.

With the threat of a first defeat looming large, Celtic made one last gamble by throwing their big man, O'Connor upfront. And, before the end of the game Celtic had a hat full of chances to grab what would have been at the very least a deserved draw. First Teague picked up a long ball that had been knocked down by O'Connor, only to see his 20 yard lobbed effort denied by the fingertips of the Victoria keeper. Next, Brooks drilled agonisingly wide from outside of the box, with a rasping effort that flew past the left upright. Then at the death Teague turned in the box to setup O'Connor, who's left effort was expertly smothered by the Victoria goal keeper, who out of nothing had suddenly tuned match winner.

Eventually the referee brought the epic game to a close, with Celtic on the wrong end of the 5-4 score line. The game was later describe by Manager Tibby as playing like Kevin Keegan's Newcastle United. And, Like the former Newcastle man, I am sure Tibby "would love it if we beat them" next time. However, Toronto Celtic will have to find revenge elsewhere, given that this will be the only meeting with Victoria this Season. Instead they will have to turn their attentions to the Cup game on Friday against Junction, who having only last week succumbed to a 6-0 drubbing from Celtic, will also be looking for some revenge.

Robert Green's BP inspired Spill

2010-06-13T22:48:00.002-04:00

Its hard to decide which is more horrific, the BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico that is devastating a natural ecosystem, or Robert Greens's spill costing England all three points against the US in their opening 2010 World Cup game. At least this latest English spill will hopefully be easier to mop up, with the option of a possible change in personnel between the sticks. It beats trying to preen the feathers of wildlife with Fairy Liquid anyway.

As the clean up of the spill begins, the question is, will Fabio Capello drop Green? Will he show ruthless decision making, and quash what little confidence Green has remaining? For me, the more important issue is not whether Green should be further embarrassed by being unceremoniously dumped, but who should be his replacement. Unfortunately, I think if Capello does hand the number 1 jersey to someone else, it will be David James, who is equally capable of a clanger. He has worked hard for almost 40 years to retain the infamous nick name Calamity James.

Robert Green and David James are presumably Capello's automatic first and second choice keeper, given their experience over the younger and untested Joe Hart. Experience which seems to be a running theme for Capello's squad, which is the oldest England have ever taken to a World Cup. However, given that both James and Green are prone to errors that make you question whether they have temporary insanity, I think Capello should make the bold decision and name, what in my mind is England's current best goalkeeper Joe Hart, as the number 1 for the next game against Algeria.

Unfortunately, I believe Capello has fallen for the same mistakes as his predecessor, by conservatively sticking with the same old England. Beyond the keeper conundrum, in what is now stretching back decades, England still have not found a solution to left midfield, and in more recent times, we seem incapable of finding a way for Frank Lampard and Steven Gerrard to play together. Its seems that in the Gerrard-Lampard tandem equation, the effectiveness of one has to be to the detriment of the other. In yesterdays match, Gerrard caped an excellent move with a cheeky finish and put a decent performance. While, Lampard, on the other hand was largely anonymous.

To solve the left midfield problem (or at least try to), I would have taken Adam Johnson in the squad, purely for his ability to swing a left foot with dexterity, if for nothing else. Instead, England are forced to play players such as Milner, Wright-Phillips and to a lesser extent, Steven Gerrard to fill the left sided void. It will be interesting to see whether Capello reverts to playing Gerrard back on the left side once Gareth Barry is fully fit given the impressive performance Gerrard put in against the US.

When ever England traipse through the carnival of a World Cup, or European Championship, self inflicted controversies never seem to be too far behind. Its part of what make England, England. At least this latest cock up happened at the beginning of the tournament, when there is still plenty of time to banish it from minds with future performances. Future performances that should start with Joe Hart in goal. Who cares if he is young and inexperienced, at least if he fumbles the ball like a school boy juggling a hot potato we will have an excuse for such buffoonery.

World Cup Crystal Ball Predictions

2010-06-12T00:31:00.000-04:00

Its next to impossible to try and resist jumping on the World Cup 2010 band wagon, and evangilise one's wisdom on how the worlds greatest tournament will unfold in South Africa. So with those cheeasy, and some what pointless novelty count down clocks -that never fail to spring up each time an event of significance occurs- firmly banished, its time to get your notepad ready. I have put my head on the chopping block with these insightful spoon bending predictions, so get down the bookies lively. You will be emptying your swollen wallet quicker than it takes me to break into tears when England get knocked out on penalties.

Home Nation
Never has a home nation failed to make it past the first round, and with the weight of a continent behind them, South Africa won't break that trend. Though, I will shamelessly play sergeant buzz kill, by going out on a limb and saying that those horns are bloody annoying. Its like trying to watch a game of football while having a bee hive precariously balanced on your bonce. The thought of them making it much further than the second round makes my ear weep with claret. On the plus side, they do look rather dashing in that home strip. Its like watching Norwich City when Jeremy Goss and Bryan Gunn, had the worlds attention at their feet.

Golden Boot
Its with great reluctance and worry that my pick for winning Cinderella's golden slipper is none other than Liverpool's number 9. If fit, I think Fernando Torres can show case on a global level that he is currently the worlds best striker. The reason for the reluctance, is that if he does win the golden boot, Liverpool will be under even more intense pressure to sell, with inevitable increased interest in the player. As a back up to Torres, I would go for the Spaniards strike partner David Villa, who may find himself as a lone striker should Torres fail to keep fit.

Player to Watch
Obviously it goes without saying that you should be drawling over the abilities of players like Lionel Messi, Wayne Rooney and -if he doesnt lose his bottle Ronaldo- but the player I would keep an eye on is Michel Bastos. With Brazil missing the usual embarresment of riches when it comes to strikers, I think the pacey Lyon winger can more than make up for the fire power. He has pace to burn and is capable of chipping in with his share of goals.

Team to watch
Forget Brazil, Argy bargy and Spain. You won't find me wasting my time with that lot. No, Serbia is where the actions at. Any country that can endure the likes of Slobodan Milosevic, can surely handle the rigors of a World Cup in their sleep. They have flair running through the side and With the likes of Real Madrid bound Nemanja Vidic and Neven Subotic putting up a formidable defense they are my outside bet to perform beyond expectation, by reaching the quarters.

Semi Finalists
When it gets down to the business end, you can expect to see the usual suspect there or there abouts. Ze Germans, always step it up in big Tournaments, but I dont think they will get past the quaters. The four I will go for are Spain, Holland, Brazil and through no doing of nut job Diego Maradona, Argentina. Argentina will either be immense, inspired by Lionel Messi, or, absolute failures, if they listen to Maradona. A man who when he isn't busy dictating the sexual persuasions of the worlds media is contemplating cutting Diego Milito from his World Cup Squad. Thankfully someone stopped that latter before it came to fruition.

Winner
Spain, the favourites and rightly so. Nuff said.

Toronto Celtic v Junction

2010-06-09T23:11:00.000-04:00

Following last weeks comfortable victory over Nation United, this column came in for some scathing criticism from certain anonymous quarters, citing that a biased slant had misrepresented proceedings. Given the result of this week fixture against Junction, it will be hard to be anything but biased, as I pour superlatives over a fine Celtic performance. Let the impartial Celtic writer begin.....

Back at the familiar surroundings of Eglinton flats, where many of the vital victories of last seasons championship were sealed, Toronto Celtic kicked off the game confidently, buoyed as though they were playing at home. The defense, organised and led by Murray, was pushing up the field, allowing a neat and tidy midfield to operate mostly in opposition territory, while the energetic front line were soon asking questions of the Junction defense.

It took until around the 20th minute when eventually Junction ran out of answers to Celtic's probing approach play. Curley, who had been looking lively from the first whistle, following some meaty challenges was able to get on to a squared ball inside the box. With the Junctions defense closing in, Curley kept his composure and after a couple of touches, side footed past the keeper at the near post. 1 nil Celtic.

With any nerves swiftly settled following the opening goal, Celtic were unlucky not to go in at half time 2 goals to the good. Curley, with confidence flowing after registering his first goal of the season, now had a healthy appetite for goal. Having picked up a loose ball about 40 yards from goal, the quite and reserved Curley, skipped a flying tackle and jinked his way in to the box, only to skew his shot wide of the upright having been forced on to his left.

After a pulsating 45 minutes, the referee intervened by signaling the half time break much to the inconvenience of Celtic, who had so far put in a professional display. Such was the performance, that Manager Tibby had little to address at the interval, other than to keep playing the same football and guard against complacency. Follow that, and the goals would surely come.

Although Celtic might have felt that the game was in their hands, they were only winning by a single goal after half time, just as they had in their last game. At the same point last week, I described how Celtic had to rely on the intervention of an unlikely source. Well, the unlikely source is fast becoming a common intervention. Following another corner, once again Murray leaped to meet the ball with a commanding header that former hoops favourite, Stuckmann would have been proud of. Up came the one hand shearer solute, and with it, Celtics second goal.

With the game looking increasingly out of Junctions reach, Brooks was soon on hand to pour more misery in the oppositions direction. Following an energetic burst in to the box, Brooks was denied an effort on goal, after being hacked down just as he tried to pull the trigger. Surprisingly, at least to this biased observer, the referee hesitated to award the penalty, until consulting the linesman. After some mutterings and much confusion, eventually the ref pointed to the spot, which Prior cooly placed making it 3-0 to Celtic.

Celtic were now in the driving seat, and the frustrations for Junction were soon beginning to show. To put a slight blotch on what had been a solid competitive game, O'Connor was on the receiving of a late swipe from a Junction player, after the ball had gone. O'Connor retaliated, and the two players were soon exchanging handbags. The ref with little choice, gave both men their marching orders, so the remainder of the game would be played out with 10 a piece.

Celtic would prove to benefit the most from the open spaced granted to them by the departure of the two players. After a mix up in the Junction defense, which had left their goal keeper in no mans land, Curley took full advantage with a cheeky lob bypassing the chaos that lay beneath it.

Not to be outdone by Curley's brace, Prior soon had his second of the game. After a freekick was awarded in what seemed an innocuous position, Prior spotted the frailties of the Junction keeper who resembled one of the Hanson brothers, and audatiosuly lobbed the keeper from all of 25 yards.

To round out proceedings, Celtic made it six before the close. A lovely flowing move that started from Chisholm in defense, made its way down the right wing to Nolivos who squared to Chihombori on the edge of the box. Chihombori shifted the ball on to his left, then curled in a lush shot just inside the post and beyond the keepers reach.

The game finished 6-0, an emphatic statement by Celtic, who at times had the onlooking bench either ohhhing and ahhhing, or in warm appreciative applause at the quality of play being showcased. Celtics endeavors had finally come to fruition, which had been built on the bedrock of a man of the man performance by centre back Murray. Its now 2 in 2 for Murray who has settled in to the Celtic defense as though he has been playing their for years.

The season is only 3 games in, but Celtic will have gained a huge confidence boost against a solid team in Junction. The result sends out a real statement of intent, and one Celtic will know have to live up to in the coming months as future opposition look to bring the high flying hoops back down to earth.

Mourning the Departure of Rafa Benitez

2010-06-04T16:51:00.002-04:00

I use the word mourn purposely as scouring the headlines yesterday morning was like reading the obituaries. "Rafa leaves" one, "Benitez departs Anfield" another. What do you mean leave? Depart? Where to? I ask in vain, like some one in a state of shock at the loss of a close one. He rests in piece on the other side now, a morbid, and not so comforting thought that fills my cerebral.

I may not have been Benitez biggest fan, and in fact at times I found his tactics baffling and his repressed persona alienating, but after 6 years at the helm of Anfield, that commenced with that epic night in Istanbul, its is hard not to feel aggrieved that the poor performance of one season has outweighed the accomplishments of the other five.

What makes the departure all the more difficult to accept, is that I feel ultimately, due to his own pride, Rafa fell on his own sword. As I have said before, that "Guarantee" he made under mounting pressure in the beginning of the year, that Liverpool would still finish it the top 4 would come back to haunt him, should he fail to deliver. Bollocks to the lack of funds, or the serious injuries to key players such as Gerrard and Torres. Bollocks to the incompetent owners that have made Liverpool less about football and more about bullshit off the field of play. No, This was about Benitez, the high standards he places upon himself and that such is the dignity of the man, that he would not go against his own words, regardless of the self deprecating conclusion.

Had Benitez gone against his own words, and not shown such dignity, arguably he could demanded the full entitlement of $16m for the contract he signed only last year. Instead, indirectly, he has covered up the incompetency of the owners by agreeing to leave by mutual consent, which has far less financial consequences for Liverpool, than firing him would have. He appreciated the dire financial situation at Anfield, and would not want to see his departure further broaden the burden of debt. Its a shame that the American owners, Hicks and Gillette can not articulate anywhere near the same kind of dignity, given the cruel irony, that it was they who signed Benitez on the long contract last season, when everything was Rosie.

Which perfectly illustrates the deeper problem that lies at Anfield. Whether Benitez should have left or not is besides the point, as his departure is not the remedy to what are the systemic issues at the heart of the club; the incompetent owners. I fear that with Hicks and Gillette still in ownership, Liverpools fortunes ahead may get worse before they improve. Put it this way, as a manager, would you want to be employed by two idiots that have little to no idea of what they are doing? A question which, in itself raises further issues on exactly how, and who are they going to attract to such a disorganised outfit??

I hope that my personal pick for the job, Roy Hodgson can see beyond the problems that still remain at Liverpool, and look instead to the future, when hopefully Liverpool will be rid of the shackles that are Hicks and Gillette. Once that point is realised Liverpool can start rebuilding properly.

For Benitez, I wish farewell, and I am sure he will not struggle to hard to find new employers. I hear Inter knocking. Where ever he ends up, the grateful recipient will end up with a legend in their hands. I shall never forget Istanbul and the FA Cup final against West Ham. In typical Benitez fashion I close with his last quote for Liverpool,"Thank you so much once more and always remember: You'll never walk alone."

Nations United v Toronto Celtic

2010-06-03T17:04:00.000-04:00

Spurned chances, an abundance of niggling free kicks, yellow cards for indiscipline and an opposition happy to settle for a draw from the moment the game kicked off, all conspired to make for a frustrating evening for Toronto Celtic at Centennial Park.

In what is fast becoming a trade mark, Toronto Celtic kicked off the game with the same vigour carried over from last weeks game against Transylvania. However the vigour and energy was not met with equal enthusiasm from opponents Nations United, who gave the impression that turning up for the game was a chore. An inconvenience stowed upon them like having to read this catty match report. Settling for a point seemed a far more appealing proposition, a tactic which was excruicatingly demonstrated by the Nations Keeper, who's goal kicks seemed to last longer than it would take to cap the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. McGolrick grew a fully fledged beard between one of the keepers epic kicks.

But, the notion that Nations United performance was lathargeic at best, is perhaps a diservice to the way Celtic went about their task. With Celtic enjoying the majority of the possession, and with Nations United camped in their own half like the timid school girls on the adjacent pitch, Celtic set about breaking the deadlock. First to knock on the door was Chihombori, employed as a support man behind the front two in a new formation being tested by Tibby. His headed effort drifted just over the bar after a good cross from Fitzpatrick.

Next to see a chance go begging was Teague. After Prior nodded a boucing ball that had eluded the Nations back line Teague was clean through just inside of the box. However not realinsing quite how much time he had, Teague tried an audacious lob, when the better option would have been to bring the ball down for a one on one with the keeper.

With the front line miss firing, Tibby, looking to squeeze a goal out of Celtic before the end of the half brought on fresh legs in McGoldrick and Kovac. The switch almost paid imediate dividends when Kovac took advantage of a loose ball in the box only to see his effort come back off the inside of the post, and rest gratefully in the keepers arms.

With the referee bringing the half to a close with no team able to register, Celtic came off the field frustrated and with a growing sesne of impatience. The message was clear, Celtic were to make their bossing of an inferior team pay with a goal, or pay the consequence and miss out on what should be 3 points.

Although the task was obvious, the second half carried on in similar fashion as the first had ended, with Celtic controlling the tempo while Nations searched for an elusive point, lumping the ball forward to know where in particular. In moments like these, it sometimes takes an intervention from perhaps not the most likely of sources. Following a corner, knocked into the mixer by Prior, Curley was able to escape the attentions of the Nations defenders and nod the ball down to Geordie new boy Murray, who was left open to poke home. Such was the subdued reaction from both sides, perhaps in desbelief that finally a defence had been breached, the bench assumed it was a side netting.

Luckily, the bench was soon reassured that Celtic had found the back of net. However, in doing so, Nations United suddenly now realised that they would have to actually attack with purpose in order to gain at least a draw, and so, they started to enjoy what was probably their best spell of the game.

With Celtic looking nervous as they edged in to the last ten minutes of the game, with only a single goal separating the two teams, Nations United had two golden opportunities which could have turned the game on its head. First, after Celtic failed to clear their lines following a jubious freekick awarded just outside the box, Nations United drilled in a 25 yarder which was cleared off the line by Sharkey. Next, Nations broke with numbers only to see a stinging long range effort by their number 28, come crashing off the cross bar.

In true end to end football, from the ensuing rebound, Celtic broke away with Nations United men still committed forward. Eventually Brooks recieved the ball on the left hand side of the 18 yard box. And, with one quick look up, the energetic Brooks picked his spot and unleashed a curling shot into the opposite top right corner. A memorable goal to bring to a close, what was a rather forgettable match.

It may not have been the prettiest of games, but Toronto Celtic proved they can win, and, when needed, win ugly. With a first victory in Division 2 now under their belt, Celtic will be happy to have made a bright start to the campaign, but will have to be more ruthless in the coming weeks when the opposition is of greater stature.

Toronto Celtic FC v Transylvania

2010-05-27T13:11:00.000-04:00

While the cream of each nations crop begin to descend upon South Africa for this Years World Cup, the real men whom personify the truest and purest form of the beautiful game, endure the heat, dust and occasional weed of Toronto's G. Ross park, in baited anticipation of the new TSSL Season.

While lesser foe's would have settled on the accomplishments of last season, basking in the warm of past glory, Celtic took the opportunity to further test its resolve and up the ante. During the winter season there has been a transformation of Celtic in to a well run club off the field, which now reflects the past achievements on it. The name may have change, but this is still Celtic. Toronto Celtic FC.

Making the step from the Media division to the mid week league, which carry's the added burden and motivation of Promotion and relegation, no amount of pre-season training can truly replicate match fitness for the arduous season that lies ahead. For Toronto Celtic, their first test came against Transylvania, who, if my sources serve me correctly, managed an admirable 3rd place position in Division 2 last season. A good marker as to the standard that has to be at the very least matched, if Celtic are to achieve aspirations of promotion come the end of the season.

With the scourching heat almost climbing to 30 degrees, Celtic ignored the suns touture, and set about their task in frenzied fashion, enjoying the majoroity of possession in the early exchanges. Their counter parts, expereinced and well organised, seemed content with allowing Celtic to dictate territory, and were happy with launching quick breaks.

First to enjoy the license of freedom was Teague, would could only scuff his shot into the thick foleage, after a neat pass by Lucero. Finding more joy down the right wing moments later, another pass from Lucero soon followed, which released Teague towards the byline. Teague squared a low cross to Strike partner McGoldrick, who's first time snap shot flew just wide of the post, with the keeper routed.

As the half wore on, and with Celtic being continually frustrated at the lack of reward for their fair share of possession, Transylvania started to show their prowess, with a couple of long range efforts following the now obvious counter attacks. Eventually, Celtic were made to pay for not making their possession count, after what looked like a pretty routine bouncing cross in to the box, managed to evade the heads of two defenders before kindly findings its way to the Transylvanis forward, who was left with the simple task of nodding home from all of 6 yards. Not a goal that Celtic will relish seeing a video replay of.

Spurred on by a feeling of injustice that had left Celtic 1-nil down at half time, they took to the second half, eager to make amends, and forge a truer reflection of the state of play by leveling up the score line. And, with a host of changes made at the interval, it would not take long for one of those fresh legs to bring Celtic level. After chasing a ball over the top that looked like a lost cause, Kovac doggedly robbed his marker, before turning just inside the right corner of the penalty box, and then deftly looping his effort over the keepers head into the opposite corner of the goal. This was a replay all of Celtic would have liked to have seen! Especially, as this will go down in history as Toronto Celtic FC's first ever competitive goal.

Not to be out done by Kovac' exquisite leveler, Fitzpatrick and Brooks were also soon trying to get in on the action. First Fitzpatrick let fly from all of 20 yards, only for his effort to whistle just over the bar, echoing "that goal" from the cup final. Then, Brooks after being picked out by a pin point cross field pass from Prior, placed his effort jsut wide of the post with the keeper all but beaten.

As the minutes started to tick away, it was increasingly likely that neither team were going to be able to break the deadlock. However, similar to the end of the first half, Transylvania started to enjoy a little more possession and were drilling in a few long range efforts. The best of which was a 25 yard volley that looked to be dipping under the bar, before Fourie fully stretched like the stride of a springbok, managed to get fingertips to it and tip it over the bar.

With the referee dressed in Italia 90' officials kit, who had barely ventured outside the centre circle, bringing the 90 minutes in the gruelling heat to a close, Celtic will have felt that this was a good first taste of life in the Second Division, and may have felt on another day that they could have knicked all 3 points. Never the less this was a good test, and one Celtic will want to build upon as the start of the season begins to take shape.

José the Blushing Prom Queen

2010-05-24T23:08:00.005-04:00

Ushered in under the romance of flash bulbs that illuminate from the heavens of the Santiago Bernabéu, the elegant José Mourinho danced around the technical area, majestically covering every square inch while puling the 11 strings of Internazionale into treble history. In the wings awaited Europe's potential suitors, clamouring for a moments eye contact from the vacant gaze of Mourinho, whom once again leaves them seduced to the point of salavating at the prospect of courting the special one. What a bloody dream boat.

The final act itself was further proof of Mourinho's tactical prowess, having outclassed former mentor, Louis Van Gaal, almost from the moment the referee blew the whistle. It was as though the whole thing was staged, with Mourinho being the orchestrator in the middle, resigned to an imment fate of glory that awaited in 90 minutes.

Inter simply shut up shop. Satisfied with allowing a lackluster Bayern attack, that was sorely missing French forward Frank Ribbery, to enjoy the majoirity of possesion and terriroty, until they ran out of ideas. Robben, who unlike Ribbery managed to resist the overtures of ladies of the night, probed away, but resembled an eager child relentlessly pounding the ball against a brick wall.

I would go as far to say that this was a boring final. On a side note, for actual entertaining football, where tactics were seeminlgy thrown out of the window, Blackpool's 3-2 triumph over Cardiff was far more rewarding. But, with Mourinho's stiflling tactics, which we have seen time and time before, lay a trap ready to pouce into action. It may not have been the spectacle every fan hopes for in European Cup Finals, but Mourinho's team, with expert precision and speed broke from the monotonous, with two breath taking goals from Diego Milito. Had it not been for these two special moments, I would have felt thoroughly depreived of value, just as I had when Manchester United pinched the drab FA Cup Final against Liverpool in 1996. At least Liverpool could boast that they looked like a bunch of barber shop quartets, in their white suits.

Between the eternity of time that existed between the two goals, the only eventful occassions were when Mourinho was either prowling around his technical area, so desperately willing his side on he was prepared to be the ball boy. Or, when he decided that Robben was just to bloody cute, that he needed to give him a quick cuddle. The slow motion replay of the warm embrace was enough to make you want to squeeze the little dutch man too, ahhhh.

Eventually, the Germans were put out of their misery by the final whistle, which signaled the end of Inter's long wait of 45 years for a European Cup. For Massimo Moratti, the Inter President, who for the last two seasons has had the pleasure of wining and dinning Mourinho, heart break awaits. As with so often is the case, this queen has attracted the envious attentions of rival suitors.

With flirtations in England and Italy now forgotten, the obvious suitor to swoop in and win Mourinho's affection would be Real Madrid. However, given Real Madrid's chronic inability to consummate anything nearing long term, I would foresee it being an abusive relationship that ends after a year or maybe two, at which point, Ferguson will probably have Old Trafford ready for him to take over the reins.

Liverpool Chasing Spoiler Glory

2010-05-01T21:39:00.002-04:00

Slowly but surely, one by one, Liverpool's pre-season goals have whittled down from Premier League contenders, to Europa League hopefuls. Back in August, the now annual tradition of unfounded optimism was taking over the rational mind of the average Liverpool supporter, and had harboured beliefs of finally clinching the Premier League title. Which, in doing so would reinstate Liverpool's much talked about history, as the present day record holders of being England's most successful club.

Unfortunately, from the almost beginning of the season, aspirations of the Premier League title had pretty much evaporated before Christmas. Up next, the FA Cup. A worthy prize for any club, no matter what the targets are at the start of the season. Struggling Championship side Reading, in typical FA Cup fashion, performed the unlikely miracle of overturning Liverpool at Anfield following a goal at the death, then pursued to kick Liverpool when they were down in extra time. Next to fall, ahhh the Champions League. When ever a season is heading south, you can rely on the trusty old European Cup. So kind in recent years, so fruitful. How could it desert Liverpool after such romance??

But all was not lost. With Champions League failure, came the scant consolation of the Europa League. Which at first, being the arrogant supporter of an elite club that I am, I had about as much interest, or was filled with about the same level of excitment as I would, if I were watching qualifying stages of the Eurovision Song Contest. Yes, qualifying, not even the Eurovision main event where you hear the awful offerings of European music, coupled with outrageus voting. But as Liverpool made their laboured progression, and with the growing sense that an all English final with Fulham might be on the cards, I was warming to the consolation of the Europa League. Who cares about the Champions League, thats main stream bollocks, this is the cool alternative, played by places so excotic you can baely prounce them, let aon cite the country of origin. Besides, there was an opportunity to be the only English club to claim any European silverware.

After Yossi Benayoun scored in extra time, it looked as though Liverpool was again creating one of those famous atmospheric European nights. That was, until, the Kop and my warmth was thoroughly extinguished by a little known strager by the name of Deigo Forlan. So impetent in his days as Manchester United player, back to haunt those who had mocked him.

With a litany of disappointments consolidated in to one season, you could not blame even the most hardened, die-hard Liverpool fan from flirting with the idea of jumping in front of a bus. Either that, or have season 2009-10 surgically erased from memory. But, with any goals in life, when they seem to pass by or become unattainable, the posts need to be moved, or new, more realistic goals have to be set.

The only goal I can see Liverpool now aiming for, is preventing Manchester United from winning a 19th title and thus denying them from superseding Liverpool in league titles. With Sundays game against Chelsea, Liverpool find themselves with the uncomfortable potion of on one hand beating Chelsea, as normally an sane supporter would want, but in doing so doing United a huge favour, or losing and putting Chelsea on the road to Premier League glory.

In all honesty, I hope we beat Chelsea, despite what the reprecutions might be. And, I am sure non of the Liverpool players are thinking about throwing the game, unless they have some dodgy wagers on it. This would be one goal to low to aim for. However, given the lack of attacking options due to injury, the grueliing 120 minutes against Athletico and the subsequent confidence crushing defeat, I think Chelsea will be prove to strong on the day, and will reign supreme at Anfield. Which, I am sure will que conspiracies being dreamt up by United supporters immediaelty.

What ever the result on Sunday, and who ever the eventual Champions prove to be, for Liverpool the close season will be an intersting one. In times of desperation, its understandable to search for a scapegoat, and HIcks' leatherly pug face is an obvious target, however, I can not condede that this is the sole reason for Liverpool misfortunes.

Questions will remain over the ownership, as Hicks tries to portrait the illusion that Liverpool have only now been put up for sale, when in truth, he and Gillette have been trying to offload the club pretty much since they set foot inside Anfield. Benitez will have to learn the lesson the hard way that there are no "guarantees" in football, while also being wooed by the overtures of Juventus. And, lastly players will have to decide on their futures and how committed they are to a Liverpool side that is not in the Champions league. Potentially, this could be one of those moments, where a club is galvanized and comes out stronger from its ordeals. If not, I will be looking for the nearest bus stop.

Predictable as Ferguson and Benitez

2010-04-05T14:36:00.003-04:00

The moment the ball flew off Didier Drogba's boot and rifled in to the back of Edwin van Der Sar's net, with the heavy suspicion of offside, I knew, predictably, that Ferguson would instantaneously begin rehearsing his ensuing wrath about the officials for the post match press conference.

The replays, as expected confirmed that the linesmen had made a glaring mistake, and I am sure the incrimination, would have had the offending man in black panic stricken, also bringing in to question his chosen profession. Why on earth would you be a linesman?? Is this not a job that could have been replaced by a more efficient and accurate machine? Holes in the wall can dispense cash, arguably with more polite delivery than their human counterparts, so why is there not a machine that can judge offsides? Failing robotic linesmen, at least give them the use of a video replay.

Ferguson didn't fail to cite the officials incompetence as the reason for United woe's after the game. However, conveniently, Federico Macheda's annual spring goal, which looked like it got a helping hand as it bundled its way in over the line, did not receive quite the same amount of attention.

I understand that the criticizing of officials is more about deflecting the short comings of his own team in the public spot light, but the United players know they didn't match the energy of Chelsea, and that the dodgy offside was a side note on what was only ever going to be one result.

Benitez on the other hand is predictably unpredictable. Bare with me. What I mean is, you can predict he will always make random substitutions or tactical decision, you just never know when exactly they will occur and to what extent it might have on the outcome of a game.

During Liverpool's away trip to Birmingham on Sunday, Benitez exercised his latest tactical prowess. On this occasion, Benitez elected to bring on David N'gog for Torres around about the 65th minute mark, give or take. I will admit, Torres did seem to be in one if those frumpy, freckled teenage moods, but even with an adolescent temperament he still has the capacity to finish goal scoring chances should they come his way. The look of astonishment upon Gerrard's face once the numbers of the electronic substitution bored had sunk in, said it all.

Unfortunately, at least three golden opportunities were created by Liverpool, which all came N'gog's way. And, N'gog didn't disappoint, missing the target or gifting it to the keeper on all occasions. I'm sure back at Melwood, that N'gog is guiltily the last one to be picked during 5 a-side training session. And what other possible explanation can Benitez have for fielding him, other than N'gog having bolshy parents that relentlessly yell french expletives in to Benitez' ear.

Benitez took a gamble, and his unpredictable roll of the dice might have paid off, had he the adequate resources to play with. In David N'gog, it was clear to see that these were small time chips in a high stakes game.

Burnley refuse to throw in the white towel after sickening 6-1 defeat

2010-04-04T13:16:00.002-04:00

A thumbing swing from Adebayor, a neat hook inside the post by Bellamy, and a jab from Tevez. Ding-ding-ding. With little over 6 minutes on the clock, or the equivalent of two rounds of boxing, Manchester City managed to pulverize Burnley, in what was more like a towering heavy weight vs a whimpering feather weight than a Premier League match.

After watching Wolves so bravely defend a relentless Arsenal attack, only to succumb to a Nicolas Bendtner 94th minute winner, I thought yeah, why not watch Burnley vs Manchester City, in the faint hope that Burnley could do Liverpool a favour by knicking a point against City in the rush for fourth place.

Burnley's form, or rather demise since Owen Coyle jumped ship, has been painfully evident, but with the sobering prospect of relegation as incentive and the atmosphere that Turf Moor can create, I harboured overly optimisitc hopes of a boring 0-0.

Happily convinced that a draw was on the cards, I promptyly boycotted the first 7 minutes, thinking I could nip in the shower and would only miss a few tedious exchanges. In the past Ive missed the odd goal here and there, due to tea brewing or self beutification, but never, never have I misssed 3 goals in the space of 6 minutes.

The only possible explanation I can come up with, besides an already crippled confidence, is that Brain Laws completely neglected to issue his instructions to the defense, like an OAP who forgot to pop Saturdays pill dosage, thus rendering themselves dormant and incapable of lifting a finger. Put mildly, the defense was simply non existent, this was true school boy stuff, which I thought had been eradicated from the Premier League by the time we left the last millennium.

Normally, I am up for a good old whooping -providing your not the one on the receiving end, I'm fair game. Their is little more satistfying things in life than suffering and humilliation. But, in this instance, with the ease of which Manchester City were cavring through an AWOL Burnley defencse, I feared for humanity. I cringed with mercy, wishing that the trainer would throw in the towel when the fourth went in after 20 minutes, or that the doctor would stop the contest for fear of Burnley's mortality. It was a sickening demolition of a team, that had once upon a time, at the start of the season, managed to humble Man United.

But this is the Premier League, unrelenting and unforgiving. Early season conquests matter little at this stage of the season. Grinding out ugly results and sustaining precious moral is key, and Burnley couldn't have picked a worse time to suffer a confidence shattering home defeat of this magnitude. Pompey are all but resigned to the Championship next season, and after this bloodied-nose performance, Burnley get my tip to be joining them very shortly.

Footy Club Limelight: Worcester City FC

2010-04-02T13:52:00.014-04:00

Probably my earliest memory of football, is kicking a yellow and black air floater around the back garden, or once I had graduated from those confines, out on to the green in front of our terrace house with one of my oldest and best mates, Adam (aka sanj).

The trials and tribulations of my local team, and place of birth, Worcester City could not have been further from my care free mind. I was far too busy gathering jumpers for goal posts and taking turns in goal, to even contemplate Worcester City FC's very existence.

Such was the fascination of playing the game, that the prospect of actually sitting still and following any team, even a non local one, appealed to me about as much as sitting on a Church pew ignoring sermons did. Why on earth would I want to sit and watch people playing football when I could be out side doing it??

If the romance of the then, Old first division, was failing to win over my attention, then Worcester City had absolutely no chance. Later on, probably around the time I was about to hit double digits, teams like Liverpool and Manchester United, had just about managed to penetrate my mind. And now, outside we were playing Wembley, with what would start my true love affair with Football beyond playing it, Italia 90 just around the corner. St George's lane had truly lost any hope of winning my affections. There were far bigger teams and stadiums to emulate.

When I was born in the summer of 1981, Worcester City FC were bringing to a close a mid table finish in the glamorous Alliance Premier League. And, swanning around non league football, is pretty much where Worcester City have been ever since. They are your typical sleepy small city/town local football team, cozily tucked away amongst terraced houses, that seems to defy the relentless progress of time. Content instead, to stagnate and fade to little significance.

However, through the eternal coexistence with non league football, City were able to achieve one remarkable feat, which serves as their biggest moment in history. In the 3rd round of the FA Cup, they managed a giant killing, knocking out none other than Liverpool. Which, ironically would be the team I would later go on to support. Had someone the decency to make me aware of this monumental victory, then surely I could have been persuaded to wear the blue and white stripes of City. Through realistically, the Accrington Stanley milk advert had already set the ball rolling on who I would swear my allegiance to.

City's past may have been largely uneventful, but their immediate prospects could have taken a serious turn for the worse had it not been for yesterdays announcement that the club has just avoided administration. The debt ridden club which is in to 7 digits, has raised some much needed cash by selling off St George's lane to a land developer.

So, now they can look to a brighter future, providing they can find a new home, before the bulldozers tear down their current home. Given the lethargic pace of events so far, those bulldozers might find themselves doubling up as a goalkeeper, if the new Nunnery Way stadium fails to come to timely fruition.

I would not have the nerve to suggest, or describe myself as a Worcester City FC supporter. I have watched them play a handful of pointless non league games, and I jumped on the band wagon when Huddersfield came to to town for an FA cup game in 2005. But, A more accurate description of my relationship with City, would be to liken it to a distant relative. You know the type, a relative that your mum would bring up in a conversation during dinner. Minor muses of a trivial development in their lives that you would nod politely to, and occasionally grace with a half hearted shrug. Its not that you dislike the relative, or in this case the club, its just that your no better off having heard what constitutes news.

So, until tangible, significant signs of progress are being made at City, I will continue to rely on mum for the occasional update. Look out City, here comes the gravy train!

United's Green and Gold Drug Addiction

2010-03-22T11:44:00.028-04:00

Such is the growing popularity of Manchester United fans surrendering the usual red colours in favour of adorning themselves in green and gold, you could be forgiven for thinking that Liverpool were playing Norwich City at Old Trafford a couple of weekends ago.

The drastic change in colours however, is not a rampant flash in the pan, David Beckham inspired fashion statement that is sweeping through the Stretford end. Rather, the green and gold harks back to yesteryear, to a time when Manchester United were more pleasantly known as Newton Heath. But, more importantly than the origins of the green and gold colours, the reason for the homage to their heritage, is the Manchester United Supporters Trust (MUST) futile protest, or should I say response, to the Glazer's ownership.

While I commend peaceful protest, and admire the way in which the green and gold scarves have rapidly become common place amongst United Folk, I think Glazer will see it as little more than an uncomfortable soiled stain, wrapped around the already exploited punter. Sure, it will be a little awkward for Glazer, seeing the visual public display of how much his ownership is despised, but I wouldn't be surprised if he mistook the green and gold scarves for United's soon to be announced 2010/11 home colours. Either that, or I have far underestimated Glazer, and he is already hatching a plan, to source and deliver green and gold scarves, which he will sell on match day for the paltry sum of 99 quid a pop. Cutting out MUST in the process. In fact, why stop at just green and gold scarves? Merchandise sales of all shapes and sizes could literally be doubled with the extension of green and gold mugs and the likes.

The point is, United fans, are unwavering in their support and still show up in their droves on match day, eager for their weekly fix. I don't blame them, I'm sure any club in a similar situation as United would probably react in the same way. Que, blue and white scarves in the Kop. However, this addiction to support the club, in an unconditional no matter what attitude, is the very thing that keeps the money flowing into Malcolm Glazer "the dealers" pocket. Just as a dealer prays on the addiction of people looking for a fix on the street, Glazer keeps pushing his product at ever more extortionate prices, knowing full well the faithful will be seduced. Instead of mountains of coke on the glass table, its a tier of seats or a mound of pure, pristine shirts to push. "Got any Glazer".

So what is the addicted fan to do? Hoping that MUST prompt the Red Knights in to action is wish full thinking. The campaign, may have received a lot of attention, which I commend it for, and arguably it could even be the inspiration behind Labours announcement today to give Supporters a mandatory portion of shares. However, Labour were taking about reform in Club ownership 13 years ago, why has nothing been done until now? Call me cynical, but with an election approaching, this could be a huge vote winner, so I find it as no surprise it is now part of their manifesto. Besides, the smug faced Tory boy will probably get in anyway, and the Conservatives describe labours plans as a gimmick, which is probably not too far from the truth, but doesn't exactly fill you with confidence that they have an alternative to the free market model.

Political rant aside, and despite the good work MUST have done, the only way I can see their being any drastic change in the ownership, is by going cold turkey. All united fans will need to be rounded up and locked in their bedroom, until detoxified. Ignore the screams and crying. In other words, hit Glazer where it hurts, which is in his pocket. Well your in his pocket, shave off that ridiculous beard as well.

As with going cold turkey, the immediate prospects for United fans and more significantly the club would be very painful. A boycott of Manchester United product, in what ever form it comes in, whether it be season tickets or merchandise would have serious ramifications for performances on the pitch, but, unless Glazer starts to lose a noticeable amount of money, to the point where he is unable to withdraw 10m Stirling for "Management and Administration" fees, then he will keep milking the United cash cow for all its worth.

Liverpool anything but "Guaranteed" 4th place

2010-03-21T11:53:00.030-04:00

Following their deflating loss to old foe Manchester United, Liverpool teeter on the brink of being banished from the exclusive top four party.

Liverpool started the game at Old Trafford in explosive fashion, daring to take the lead after only 5 minutes of play, the first goal United have conceded at home since their loss to Aston Villa back in December last year. The goal was supplied by a Dirk Kuyt cross from the byline, which Fernando Torres leaped majestically to, burying his header unopposed. Such was the quality of the header, that current England captain Rio Ferdinand, and much rumored to be recalled as England right back, Gary Neville, both left Torres unmarked. Preferring, instead, to gaze in awe like a pair of adoring statues.

Any signs of continuing to be overwhelmed in admiration of Liverpool's attacking prowess were quickly suppressed only 6 minutes later, when Antonio Valencia was brought down just inside the box, by Mascherno who was very lucky not to receive his marching orders having being adjudged not to be the last man by World Cup referee Howard Webb. Mascherano was only given a yellow card for his indiscretion, which must have sparked memories of Vidic being dealt sterner punishment for a similar challenge on Torres in the corresponding fixture last year. The flash back had both Ferguson and Benitez arguing their case like a pair of cackling dinner ladies, with 4th official Andre Mariner deployed as the headmaster.

With 32 goals to his name already this season, Rooney predictably was tasked with penalty duty. And, such is the rich vain of form the England man is currently in, even after his penalty was initially saved, Reina could only parry straight back in to the path of Rooney, who made no mistake with his second bite of the cherry.

And from that point on, Liverpool never really looked like getting back in the game. United dominated possession, and Torres looked very isolated up front while Gerrard cut a forlorn figure in midfield. It was only a matter of time before United's possession paid off, albeit through a surprise match winner in Park.

Given that United had lost the last three fixtures against Liverpool, their supporters have often taken a philosophical stance, stating that while losing to Liverpool is always a bitter pill to swallow, winning the league more than heals the wound of local defeats.

For Liverpool, the instant gratification of the past, provided some scant relief to seeing their neighbours match Liverpool's 18 league titles. But right now, while local pride may be sore, its the bigger picture of having lost 10 league games throughout the campaign so far, that is far more damaging. Which, is subsequently making their ambitions of finishing fourth all the more insurmountable.

Benitez through his own will, has painted himself in to a corner, having earlier in the season "guaranteed" that Liverpool will be able to clinch 4th spot, and with it, the last place to the lucrative cash flow of Champions league money which is so desperately needed.

Liverpool have a decent set of fixtures ahead of them for the end of season run-in, but the problem now is that they are no longer in control of their own destinies. Even if they were to win all the remaining games left, they would have to rely on the other teams vying for fourth spot to drop a considerable amount of points.

So, should Liverpool fail to finish fourth, what then will be the compensation that Benitez will be obligated to dispense, having not being able to meet his own guarantee? Having only signed a 5 year contract at the end of last season, and with Liverpool's precarious financial situation, firing the Spaniard seems unfeasible for the Liverpool owners. Could this be the reason why Benitez was so confident to offer a guarantee in the first place? Safe in the knowledge that should the unthinkable materialise, Liverpool would be powerless to release him of his duties.

Whether the guarantee was backed by arrogance the commanding position Benitez has made for himself, or whether it was a true act of defiance in the confidence he has in team, if Liverpool fail to finish 4th, they will be left not only with a despondent set of supporters, but will have further, seriously impeded, their dire financial situation.

Realistically, they only way I foresee a change of management come the end of the season, would be for Benitez to resign if he fails to meet his own guarantee, or, for another club to buy out his contract. Which, with the expected departure of Pellegrini at Real Madrid, the Bernabeu would seem like the only club with more money than sense willing to prise Benitez' from Anfield.

In the mean time, Liverpool will sit and hope others in the immediate vicinity drop points. After Fulham's 2-1 loss to Manchester City, it would seem that both halves of Manchester will be celebrating victories of sorts over Liverpool tonight.

Despite Fulham's loss to City, if Liverpool were to finish outside of the top four, and Benitez subsequently departed Liverpool, Roy Hodgson would be my candidate to take over the helm at Anfield.

It might be unsupportive, and a little on the pessimistic side to talk of a post Benitez era, but that self proclaimed "guarantee" in my views leave Benitez with very little room for maneuver, with games rapidly running out.

Roy Hodgson to Manage one of the Big Four??

2010-03-18T22:07:00.012-04:00

Surely, now it is only a matter of time before Roy Hodgeson is summoned by one of the big four? Is this a knee jerk reaction to Fulham's triamphant 4-1 defeat of none other than Juventus? Admitdly, yes, a little. But there is some weight to this impulsive endorsement. No longer can the credentials of Roy Hodgeson, ever growing in stature -CV be ignored. Slowly but surely over the course of the last three years, Hodgeson has taken Fulham from the brink of relegation in the 2007-08 season to a team that now thinks it can punch above its weight, and knock out the Old Lady in the process. Who does it think it is?

So, if the prediction that Hodgson, is but moments away from rubbing shoulders with the elite of the big four, which one is he most likely to succeed. In forensic like detail, here is a look at the candidates.

Liverpool
Despite having enjoyed a more than comfortable 3-0 win over Lille in the same competition as Fulham, Liverpool's season has fallen woefully short of the optimistic preditions back in August last year. With an early knock out of the Champions League, and the possibilty of missing out on fourth spot, Benitez looks the most obvious candidate to be uprooted, giving Hodgson a pass into the brotherhood come the end of the season.

Manchester United
Could Hodgson be the possible successor to Ferguson? Is all of this European escapade, just mere grooming for his eventuall installment at Old Trafford? Obviously with Ferguson's strangle like hold on both power and success as United's manager, this would only ever come about, should the scot do the honourable thing and finally deicde to retire. With the British connection Hodgson would instanlty bring to the United squad and the experience he gained from his days at Inter, though an outside bet, Hodgson could be ideally suited.

Chelsea
After Ancelotti's honey moon came to a predictable end, and with the Terry scandal that seems to still loom large over Stamford Bridge, Abromovich's patient must be once again warring thin. Futher more, a craving of Champions League glory, has once again gone unquenched for another season, which could leave a vacancy sooner, rather than later at Chelseas. At least Abramovich's mood might have been softened by a quick libel victory over his alledge gambling problems during the week. Fancy a game of black jack Roy??

Arsenal
Probably the least likely of potential destinations for Hodgson. With Pellegrini, presumably on his way out of Real Madrid, after once again proving money can not buy you into the Champions League quater finals for the sixth consecutive year. Wenger resigning, as apose to Wenger being fired seems the only way the tachnically astute French men is ever to leave the Emirates. Though, if he were to be lured to the obsenities of the Bernabeu, in Hodgson they would inherit a manager who Like Wenger has the economic class to obtain great returns on very little.

A flimsy case have been made for all top four suitors, you decide on where the budding career will take Roy Hodgson next.....

An evening with Liverpool legend Bruce Grobbelaar

2010-03-07T21:09:00.020-05:00

Probably the most surreal moment of my life to date. Never, either since, or before moving to Toronto, did I envisage that I might perhaps one day find myself basking in the presence of Bruce Grobbelaar -a true Liverpool football legend. Such was the disbelief that he would be making an appearance at Scallywags on Yonge and St Clair in Toronto, that I almost declined the invitation. I had come to the conclusion that, even if he did show, it would probably be a flying visit to the bar, where he would summon flutes of champagne from the eager to please Liverpool fans, only to then nonchalantly drop them at his feet demanding they be swept up immediately. Then, after signing a few photo's and disposing of yet more flutes, he would be whisked away out the back door into a parked limo full of models.

I couldn't have been further from the truth. After begrudgingly stumping up the paltry $15 cover, which in retrospect is embarrassing that I deemed the event over priced, I took my seat along with the rest of the Liverpool fans, still in a state of denial of what was to come. The assembled crowd was a mix from the everyday Liverpool supporter brimming with anticipation, to the out right bizarre. The bizarre ranging from an uncanny look-a-like, who's resemblance had many supporters questioning, "Is that him?" to the disconcerting looking England supporter, who sported a knock of England shirt circa 1989, and a knitted Wombles hat. You know, the kind of thing you expect to see everyday in your local.

At exactly 8pm, true to his word, and amongst whispered excitement towards the back of the bar, Bruce Grobbelaar had arrived to rather modest fanfare. Gradually, he made his way through the bar, politely chit chatting with supporters, signing pictures and posing for photos. At this point, the two friends that had invited me, Mark Fitzpatrick and Travis Fourie, thought this would be an opportune time to get a photo with the legend, and a signature. Only problem being, that building up the courage to approach him was like plucking up the nerve to ask your first date out. Truly pathetic. So, armed with a few quick gulps of dutch courage, we, or should I say I, made our way over and nervously asked, "please Bruce, if you wouldn't mind me quickly taking a picture before you go on stage?" He had seen all the blushes before, and dutifully obliged, before taking to the stage with the bar packed to the rafters.

Instantly, the eccentric character on the field I had come to recognise while growing up, had transferred that unpredictable energy from the confines of the 18 yard box (and more often than not, beyond) to the stage. This was not to be a dull, bland, subdued ex-pro telling tales from yesteryear.

Bruce started off talking about his harrowing experience in the Rhodesian Bush War, in which he did two years of service. And, after being in fear of his life, he eventually fled to the safe haven that is Canada, where he played for the Vancouver Whitecaps. Two facts, that immediately peeked my interest, given that both were new news to me. I'm not sure what was more surprising, fighting in a war or playing for the Whitecaps!

After an initial work permit for the UK had been turned down following a loan spell with Ron Atkinson at West Bromwich Albion, Bruce proceeded to explain through a hilarious impression of the late, great Bob Paisley, how his move to Liverpool materialized. Paisley had watched him play for the Whitecaps, and while on loan with the railway men of Crewe Alexandra. It was at Gresty road where he made his record for having the furthest punch in British Football. The joke being, that he cleared the ball by punching it, only for it to land on a train bound for Inverness. Obviously, Bruce's story telling rendition being far more captivating than mine.

With the invitation to now play for Liverpool, Bruce was left with a familiar dilemma: obtaining a UK work permit. And, following potentially more disappointment at the visa office in Croydon, Bruce made the call home to mum, who's wise words, depicting past relatives who had represented Britain in a military capacity, did the trick, and thankfully Bruce managed to get hold of the illusive work permit, learning a valuable life lesson in the process: Listen to mum. However had the wise words been uttered a year earlier, Bruce might have found himself on a work permit with WBA. A bullet he was grateful to have dodged!

After plenty of wise cracking banter that included Paul Jewell being his boot boy and Steve Nicol being a sandwich short of a picnic, Bruce began to re-sight the famous night in Rome, when his "spaghetti legs" inspired Liverpool to glory in the European cup final of 1984. With the score all square at 1-1 after extra time at the Stadio Olimpico, the final would be decided for the first time by penalties. This was not to be an opportunity that Grobbelaar was willing to miss, in terms of not only influence the outcome, but to do it such a way that would write him into Liverpool folklore.

So, in fully animated style, Bruce proceeded to reenact the spaghetti legs before our very eyes, jumping up on to the sofa behind the stage, while narrating his thoughts as Graziani stepped up. The mind games, as we all know worked, as Graziani choked, clipping the bar with his penalty, leaving Kennedy to wrap it up.

With the speech drawing to a close, and after recounting probably the most famous night of his career, he still made time to speak about the match fixing allegations of the early nighties, which he could so easily have ignored. He remains adamant of his innocent, and stated in resolute fashion that he was cleared of all wrong doings. Besides, who really cares? This was a speech to Liverpool fans anyway, he was not about to be grilled about what may or may not have transpired decades a go.

Following the speech which lasted an effortless 1 1/2 hours, and after a brief intermission, Bruce took to the stage for a final questions and answers. Still in awe and unable to think of clever question to ask, here are a few questions that others managed to muster, and to which Bruce was only to happy to respond in valiant demeanor:

Supporter: What was your proudest moment during your career?
Bruce: With out doubt signing on the dotted line. Above all the achievements, including the 84 European Cup victory, nothing made me prouder than to sign on the dotted line.

Knitted Womble hat wearing supporter, with south London accent: You have spoken in detail about Arsenal, but what about Wimbledon?
Bruce (unequivocal and quick witted): Their are only two good things to come out of Wimbledon; the Wombles and Tennis!!

Supporter: Is it time for Rafa to go?
Bruce: Forget about the Americans, and that they have put Rafa in a hard position. Rafa has still had 200m quid to spend and plenty of time to bring the Championship back to Liverpool. Is it time for him to go? Yes.

I'm not sure what was more controversial, Bruce's opinion that Rafa should be on his way, or his solution to replace them with a coaching partnership of old favourite, Kenny Dalglish and Steve Nicol.

The questions ended with rapturous applause from the grateful crowd, who had been captivated by intriguing story telling, and a rare insight into an illustrious career. The environment might not quite have been the Stadio Olyimpico, but Bruce Grobberlaar continues to prove that he is every bit the character off the pitch that he was on it.

With feelings of nostalgia invoked, here is a short clip of that famous night in Rome, 1984.
Y.N.W.A.

The FA: Are you losing it? If I play left back, Probably!!

2010-03-03T16:06:00.012-05:00

We've all seen it at some point during the days of playing youth football. The obnoxious parent, that insists on making his presents felt off the pitch, while the child and the rest of the team cringes at each scornful remark.

Luckily, my parents resisted the temptation of marching up and down the touchline, angrily bellowing out incomprehensible instructions, opting in favour of serene calm instead -Thankfully. Though, if anything, maybe their polite and admiring respect for the managers tactics and coaching, might have been the reason I spent my early years playing as a left back. Yes, a left back! For those who have played with me, or against for that matter, since I started plying my trade at the opposite end of the field, will no doubt be shaking heads in disbelief at the prospect of me defending anything beyond the oppositions half.

The nostalgic trip down memory lane was prompted by the FA's latest efforts in their Respect campaign, daringly called, "Are you losing it?" The "Are you losing it?" web site can be seen here, and, one of the videos is below. I would like to have seen something a bit more graphic in the video, instead of narration over a panning out shot of an innocent, if not bemused looking child, but the FA's campaign seems to be heading in the right direction.

The number of qualified referees is up 9% this year, while cautions for dissent in the Premier League are down 37% on last season. Despite the encouraging numbers, perhaps if efforts were targeted at the pro's, the Respect campaign might be even more effective. We still see players berating referees for controversial decision, so much so that it doesn't take a genius to lip read the not so respectful language employed.

I had an affair with John Terry....Now Where is my $250 grand?!

2010-02-01T23:14:00.017-05:00

Ok, so that is not entirely accurate, I would need considerably more to even consider the burden of carrying his love child. When will the likes of John Terry learn? Just because your haircut is that spiky style that dominated teenage trends in the early nighties, does not mean that you can continue to get away with running a muck, and then try to shush anybody that dares to expose your lude exploits.

Poor old Terry. Where ever you find, Footballers, copious amounts of money, glamour, and WAG's, you no doubt will find adultery. And, in the wings, a love child. The eclectic mix of sex, football and lingerie models, was simply too much temptation for Terry to resist.

For added poignancy, Terry could not be satisfied with cheating on his wife with one of the many loitering nobodies. No, to further complicate matters, he decided to court the overtures of his former team mate, Wayne Bridge's ex. Surely, in a moment of weakness, when models are shamelessly throwing themselves at you, picking out the one with the least amount of baggage should be simple? He should be a seasoned pro by now.

Terry further demonstrated his naivety, by then trying to cover his tracks, gagging the critical investigative journalism from the likes of the News of the World, with a Super injunction. Which, sounds more like one of Superman's early primitive strangle holds prior to leaving his crystal planet.

But, perhaps I am jumping the gun from the moral high ground I now lecture upon. Maybe, Terry is doing his duty for his Country. As a captain should. The scandal may have come to light a little prematurely, but this could be just what England needs for the impending World Cup this summer. Was this all a masterful, perfectly executed plot to bring about controversy for England's World Cup campaign?

An international tournament with England participating, is simply not the real deal unless the added spice of controversy looms large over the England camp, ready for a scandal hungry media to feed upon. Who can forget the images of Teddy Sheringham, Paul Gascoigne and the like, each taking their turn to swallow mouthfuls of alcohol, in the infamous dentist chair prior to Euro 96. Or Glenn Hoddle's surpirse announment to bring a faith healer as part of his coaching for World Cup 98. Could Terry's adultery be the World Cup 2010 scandal, that England so desperately craves for?

In order to make that sordid dream a reality, Wayne Bridge will need to be on the flight to South Africa. In fact, to ensure that the tension between the two former team mates is upheld, I would insist that Wayne Bridge gets a place in the squad, regardless of form or injury. Who cares if he runs with the aid of crutches. Or that his confidence is now crippled by the revelations in his personal life.

The potential for shenanigans if the two were to be reunited through England's world cup campaign are limitless. I would love to be a fly on the wall during the first day training. Will Bridge randomly launch a viscous attack on Terry, during the middle of play?

Controversy has a inuring ability to follow England like a bad smell, especially when it involves the national team captain. Will Fabio Cappello do the honourable thing and keep Terry as his captain, and include Bridge -injured or not? An expectant media and nation awaits.

Footy Club Limelight.....Coming to a team near you!!

2010-01-31T12:22:00.010-05:00

I know, the anticipation of the upcoming new series is nearly to much to take, but your patience is soon to be richly rewarded, and the excruciating wait, almost over. Starting next week I am pleased to announce, I will be writing a new weekly series called "Footy Club Limelight." Each article will be a concise, but devoted critique delving in to the inner sanctum of each of the 92 clubs in England. The journey will be starting from the lowest division in the Football League, League Two, marching all the way to mecca and the promised land of Football that is, the Premier League.

The purpose of this selfless act, will be to explore each and every club, shedding some light on some of the lesser known teams in England, dimming it on the bigger, and weighing up their credentials as potential suitors to be the chosen one.

Sure, sometimes the decision on which club to support is made for you, either by shear proximity, a dictatorial parent or sibling, or a combination of both. Though, other times, the thought of following your local team is about as appealing as resigning yourself to a life of perpetual stagnation. Or, perhaps, the role model in your life has worryingly poor taste, that you refuse to indulge. For example, my Brother supports Manchester United.

As the game has now truly become global, their is also the proposition that the nearest local team could be several thousands of miles away. And, as this global market continues to grow, how and who exactly is scooping up these millions of devotees, eager to swear their allegiance.

Often supporting a club is compared to following a religion, and for me personally, my faith has been brought seriously in to question of late, given the perils that Liverpool's season now finds its self in. But, as with religion, my blind faith for Liverpool continues unrelenting. The very idea of ever switching the club one supports, or "converting", is a perverse one, that would severely undermine the years of building a superior integrity among your fellow peers. It would also immediately prompt them to have you checked in to the Priory. Indefinitely.

However, these testing times, have made me think about why I support my chosen team, and would the solution of lowering one's expectation when choosing their beloved club, have a direct impact on the correlation of their mood and the results on Saturday afternoon?? Could this thesis be the answer to seemingly unprovoked acts of domestic violence?

Probably not. Even if I were to do the proper, civilized thing, which is to surpress mood swings and support my local team, Worcester City, and not glory hunt in the ripples of the Mersey, I am sure I would still be able to justify the importance of a 3-2 defeat in a preseason friendly at the hands of Stourport Swift. This, in itself is the very nature of the football supporter.

However, despite this tribal like behavior, by the end of this epic journey I will hope to have complied a comprehensive, if not encyclopedic guide to all the clubs in England. Concluding with which team is the best team to support and why. Surely their is a definitive answer?

As there is a local theme to this series, I am making one exception to the rule of only exploring the 92 teams included in the Football League and the Premier League. Unfortunetely, as I am sure this series will no doubt explain in scathing elicit details, my local team is not in a high enough tier of English football to qualify for the series. So, therefore I will start the series with my home town team Worcester City FC, then jump from the glamours of the Blue Square South Division, to League Two. The reason for including Worcester then bypassing the rest of the teams in the division is partly because Worcester holds obvious sentimental value which makes it a logical place to begin, but mostly because I really can not be bothered to add a further 45 clubs to an already intimidating list.

After Worcester has been warmly perceived as the best team to support in all of England, I will then, just as a many teams have done before, climb my way up the divisions until I reach the Premier league, where I will finish with the team I support, Liverpool.

For obvious reasons I am looking forward to writing about Everton and Manchester United, but the other personal highlight will be Norwich City. Not quite so obvious, but those who know me well enough will understand why.

This will be a long and arduous task, and I will need all the help I can get. If there are some palpable reason why the club you so dearly love, simply is "By far the greatest team the World has ever seen" be sure to let me know. I will endeavour to keep the phone lines unjammed and the inbox well monitored, as the building plethora of anticipation has you salivating at this monumental challenge. Although, realistically, the salivating could just be down to being rendered gormless by the prospects of a fruitless task. Until next week, control yourself.

5 Steps to save Liverpool's plummeting reputation

2010-01-14T10:53:00.013-05:00

Originally this was going to be a simple guide that Rafael Benitez could thumb through at his leisure, possibly while nonchalantly grooming his goatee, on how Liverpool's season could be saved from the human misery that it is now inflicted on everyone of its supporter. However, following last nights FA Cup defeat at the hands of a plucky Reading side that is languishing one place above the relegation zone in the Championship, its has become obvious with crystal clear clarity, that its far too late to save the season.

Yes, I have finally awaken from a self inflicted solitary confinement of denial, and have come to terms with that the only prize being offered now, is the glimmer of holding on to a rapidly fading Liverpool reputation. I have mourned the Champions League, and have accepted that the Premier League will probably haven taken an early retirement by the time Liverpool ever get back into the reckoning.

So with out further delay, here is my simple 5 step plan on how Liverpool can salvage its ailing reputation.

1. Kidnap Xabi Alsono from Real Madrid
Given that Benitez was responsible for Alonso's exit following a baffling campaign to bring Gareth Barry to Anfield, I would task Benitez -accompanied by the aide of a crafty scouser sidekick, with a covert operation to smuggle Alonso back. Once returned back to his rightful home of Anfield, to avoid suspicion, Alsono would then have to adorn a wavy black wig that bounces with volume, and wear the shirt of his supposed replacement, Alberto Aqualani. With Aqualani absent most of the time due to his insatiable affection with the injury table, its the perfect guise, and a win win solution for all parties.

2. Hire Glenn Hoddle's faith healer
Having faith, albeit blind faith at times, is integral to any successful side, and is something that is sorely lacking, currently among the Liverpool ranks. The drastic inclusion of a faith healer in the dressing room might alienate Liverpool from their supporters, and cause a media frenzy, but a least this might detract from misfortunes on the pitch. It would also further cement the sentiment, "In Rafa we trust."

3. Re-brand the Europa League (again)
And shamelessly call it the Champions Division, where only champions past and present are eligible to qualify every year to the exclusive club. If your name doesn't have the word "Champion" inscribed after it on the prestigious list, then you aint getting in.

4. Expand the "Big four" to the "Big Six"
I am tired of the same old "big four" predictably shuffling themselves in an orderly queue for a dollop of nauseating Champions League dinner. An exhaustion that has nothing to do with the fact that Liverpool are in danger of inadvertently dropping out of the dinner line for the first time in years. No, I just feel its time that more Premier League clubs got the chance to participate in an already English dominated arena. Although, perhaps I am being overly ambitious and presumptuous to think that a top 6 finish for Liverpool is within reach.

5. Clone Steven Gerrard and Fernando Torres
Dolly the sheep was cloned in the last century and Sam Rockwell was being duplicated for corporate convenience in the sci-fi thriller Moon, then surely cloning Liverpool's two star players must be a technological possibility? Sure, there would be a few minor ethical hurdles that would need to be navigated and maybe a couple of rule changes that FIFA would have to tweak, but nothing too major. For extra measure, I would also infuse the clones with horse placenta in a cocktail of equine-star athlete scientific mastery.

If for some inexplicable reason Benitez chooses to ignore all of the above recommendations thus further risking imminent failure, and, if you happen to be a Liverpool supporter reading this then you may wish to consider lowering the bar of expectation by beginning to support a team that already has a lower reputation. The only question being, with your faith so delicately poised, is which team has the right level of ability to carry your expectation? Which conveniently leads me to announce that I will be providing all the answers in a new series called "Club Limelight" in which I have given my self the epic task of critiquing all the prospective candidates starting from League 2 all the way to the Premier League. Quite a sacrifice you might say. Stay tuned for more details to follow next week.......

Are you 6 months away from the sack??

2009-12-24T12:47:00.012-05:00

Poor Mark Hughes. Just as he was plodding along at a turtles pace, slowly but surely racking up a healthy amount of draws, which he claims would keep his side on the righteous path to 70 points, he falls victim to the first major managerial decapitation, from an axed that had been sharpened since the summer.

Regardless of the money spent, $125m in all, and whether Hughes' claim that he was on target to reach the goals already agreed upon with his wealthy employers, the dismissal, and the resulting shit storm of PR that followed makes me wince with embarrassment at the thought that this is our beloved football we are talking about, and not the personal diaries of an ungrateful millionaire brat who didn't get his Premier League Crown underneath the Christmas tree.

I can not decide what is more obscene, the amount of money spent on building the Manchester City squad, or the fact that while the spending was taking place, Garry Cook was already exploring "contingencies" in the event he would need another sap, fluent in spending money by the truck load come boxing day sales? Could it be, that at this very moment while I ignorantly tap away on my lap top, that potential suitors to my job are being courted? Should I have devoted the last 6 months to overtime in favour of literary exploits? Are you in danger of being replaced even as you read this? Providing your not employed by impatient billionaires, or woefully incompetent, then your probably safe. You can continue to read on, but don't say I didn't warn you.

Garry Cook's dire treatment of Hughes, and his naive handling of the resulting public relations, has made me harbour an unhealthy, and somewhat unwarranted personal resentment towards Hughes' replacement, Roberto Mancini. I actually want him to fail. Its rare for me to wish such bad fortune on someone I have no prior report with, for all I know Roberto might be a bloody good bloke, and I have become some what use to the Italian Renaissance English Football is going through of late, but the way the way in which Manchester City are going about their inheritance in such an undignified manner, has inadvertently put Mancini on a wobbly perch that I am willing him to fall off.

Who knows, by the time the transfer window reopens in January for Roberto Mancini to skip in to the wilderness, and blissfully go about spending his Christmas money, like a boy that could afford the whole sweet shop, maybe Garry Cook will be doing his due diligence by looking at potential replacements for Roberto at the end of the year, if he has failed to perform miracles. By which point I will probably have grown fond of Roberto and forgotten all of my resentment and instead will be moaning about another manager dismissal.

Who'd be a Football Manager, at least of all, during Christmas time? Could we be in for more of my bleeding heart and violins sob story on boxing day if Rafa doesn't get a "must win" against Wolves? All I want for Christmas is three points Rafa.

Blatter has only got one ball......

2009-12-06T15:40:00.016-05:00

.......The other is bashfully knocking around the empty terraces of Croke Park.

Treading on dangerous ground, crudely adapting a rhyme about Hitler to that of beleaguered FIFA president, Sepp Blatter. Blatter can barely spin the politics of kicking a ball around a grass pitch let alone mass genocide.

Instead, what I am referring to in using the rhyme, is Blatter's lack of minerals. Following, the Republics controversial defeat to France last month, after Thierry Henry's handball assist, secured his nations place in next years World Cup, FIFA and the footballing world in general was once again under the spot light over how to manage blatant injustices, the implications of which can decide the fate of whether your nation competes in the World Cup or not.

For me, the solution to the problem is simple. Video replays. I'm sure there are plenty of arguments against this, such as it will slow down the flow of the game, and I would counter that simply with the fact that when there is so much at stake, and an extreme amount of pressure on officials, accuracy and integrity trumps time delays. I will save the other arguments for another day.

But, for as long as the governing bodies preside over what to do, they will continue to find themselves cleaning up their self imposed problems. I never really believed or expected anything to come of the injustice that quashed Irish hearts, and I also refuse to blame Henry's hand of Judas as a scapegoat. Long gone are the days of gracious sportsmanship, and, honestly, had I been in the same situation as Henry, I wouldn't have exactly been vigorously chasing the ref to give honest testimony over my fortuitous actions. As I said, despite sitting pretty on my moral high ground, I to fall short of sporting conduct from yesteryear. I would, however admit the offense and be in favour of a replay. All of which Henry eventually did.

Even the French felt the injustice, and felt little honour in qualifying in such controversial circumstances. So, back to Blatter and his minerals, or lack their of. While the Republic, and France to a lesser extent, exercised the idea of a replay, or an extra ball in the World Cup draw, FIFA sat on its hands and offered "moral compensation" as their pitiful solution. I can just imagine it now, Robbie Keane down on one knee gratefully accepting some shiny plaque as scant consolation, while Blatter and Platini look on in admiration of another job neatly swept under the red carpet of South Africa.

Following the painfully dull World Cup draw, throwing in an extra ball for Ireland, just to make the numbers odd would have offered some excitement, purely to see logistically how it would have been handled. Given that my nation, England, are not only in the World Cup, but have also landed a favourable group, I should be buoyed with excitement. But, being English, I have pessimism ingrained to my soul, which enables to me turn any group we happen to land in, as the now customary tournament "group of death". Portugal and Brazil? Nah, Algeria and Slovenia look far more worrisome.

So, being resigned to imminent disappointment no matter who was drawn, having Ireland thrown in to the mix, while the likes of Charlize Theron laboriously plucked out balls at random would have been a welcome distraction to a World Cup draw that otherwise invoked little enthusiasm. It too would have shown that FIFA are capable of solving problematic issues, instead of ignoring them until the next controversy rears its ugly head.

The World Cup is now "only" some 180 odd days away, which seems like a life time to me, but maybe in the mean time, Blatter and the powers that be in FIFA can proactively find a solution before the next big injustice is served. And, given my stated pessimism, I believe there is about as much chance of that happening as there ever was of Ireland reaching the World Cup, once Henry handed another rubix cube to the desk of Sepp Blatter.