Dear Arsene,

I’m sure you got this, but just thought as a watching fan, I would like to make a few observations. Granted I have the benefit of watching it on the telly with slow motion replays, lots of arrow-drawing by ‘pundits’ and then some more from MOTD, Highlights, season reviews yada yada. Things which you may not have the time/inclination for. So, you know, just in case you didn’t notice…

1. We can open a golf course at the Emirates with the number of holes in our defence.
2. Without RVP, we have the penetration of a eunuch
3. There are only three things that hinder Song from becoming an attacking midfielder. His right foot, his left foot and the fact that he is a f***ing CDM.
4. Walcott has some good days and then he plays like a blind Emile Heskey. Useless in front of goal. And blind on the wings.
5. AOC may be the answer but Diaby remains a question
6. Arshavin currently has the confidence of a final-year-in-university me going for an exam. Trust me, that did not end well.
7. Bringing on Arshavin/Park when we need goals knowing that both of them are lacking confidence/playing time/fitness/drive is like deciding to fast because you are hungry.
8. Thank you for bringing back Henry
9. There are two things we can see from space: The Great Wall of China and how useless Squillaci is.
10. Ramsey is tired. He is exceptional but he will burnout fast.
11. We will continue to keep the faith. It’s about the club and we still trust you.

Regards,

Sample

The Pitch…

It’s ridiculous that this is becoming a regular sub-point of discussion in our games now. The San Siro green looked horribly skewed in its arrangement, the wide areas of the pitch being re-laid with grass just the previous day. Whispers of a Rossoneri conspiracy to stifle our wing-play aside, I don’t think a team can look as poo as we did just because of the pitch. Jammy 1-0 with both teams feeling the brunt of the unforgiving terrain, and you have a case. One team putting the other over its knee and going ‘Spank!’ for ninety minutes; you’ll need a pretty good lawyer to reason out of this one.

The pitch arguably affected our play, but we affected our play more.

Rabbit Mode…

This was Arsenal as we’ve seen them very few times before, but painfully so- bowing down to the pressure of the occasion and displaying all the confidence of a rabbit in front of an eighteen-wheeler juggernauting its way forward. It was disappointing and surprising that the team seemed overawed; a lot of these players were present when we beat and narrowly lost to Barcelona home and away last year, a duo of matches where the team’s sense of occasion could not have been questioned.

But at the San Siro yesterday, for whatever reason, our spine was shivering. The midfield alternated between playing slow passes forward, getting overrun on the break and passing the ball back to Szczesny to hoof it woefully off-target. Milan started with two or three light fingers on the handbrake, but when they realized that this rabbit was going nowhere, they let loose.

Flicky KPB and Concorde Ibra…

I had described Kevin-Prince Boateng in the build-up to this game as the purveyor of wonder-goals and ridiculous hairstyles. Well, he duly had a shriveled porcupine on his head and he duly thundered a rasping volley past Szczesny’s flailing arms in the 15^th minute.

The ease with which he controlled Antonio Nocerino’s lofted pass in the box and had time to swivel and get the shot away was criminal on our part. Indeed, Milan used pin-point cross-field balls and long passes to excellent effect throughout the game. Mexes would lump it long, Ibrahimovic would stop it dead with a reach of his BigFoot-like big foot, flick it on to Robinho or an onrushing midfielder, and Milan had a 2v2 in three touches of the ball. Nice way to offset a poor pitch, if any.

Speaking of Ibrahimovic- the man is distasteful, looks like a lopsided Concorde jet and his nostrils can act as temporary shelters for the homeless, but the brutal Swede enjoyed one of his best games in Europe yesterday. Apart from occasionally being caught offside, most of his touches were measured, precise, oozing both quality and end-product.

In the 38^th minute, another long pass left him free to run down the left-hand side. Sagna came but didn’t come, Koscielny wasn’t supposed to come but thought of coming, it was a custard of confusion in the Arsenal back-line as the Nostril Galactus crossed for Robinho to head home.

Half-time, 2-0, water-bottle molestation and changes were needed.

Changes were made…

But we didn’t get to try out our new approach to the game on an equal footing, as Milan sounded the death-knell and went 3-0 up within three minutes of the restart. Wenger had brought Henry on for the extremely disappointing Walcott, which heralded a shift to 4-4-2 with Rosicky and Ramsey playing as the wide-men in midfield and van Persie partnering Henry up-front.

If the score-line had remained the same, we might have come into the game later on and got an away goal; but if my Aunt Martha had balls, she’d be my Uncle Marcus (or Aunt Martha with a very prominent moustache). Ibrahimovic had the ball on the edge of our D (there may have been a long-ball involved somewhere, I’m understandably sheepish to check replays of any goals) and passed to Robinho. Vermaelen ran across to cover but slipped at the vital moment and was taken out of the move completely. Robinho took two touches and swept it across the face of goal. It nestled, their fans whistled, 3-0 was as conclusive as it got.

The rest of the half was spent with Arsenal trying to play some sort of football, to salvage a goal, some pride, a nutmeg, anything. There were a few half-moments; the best chance coming from a delicious Henry flick-on which van Persie shot smartly across goal to draw a great save from Abbiati. Chamberlain came on, jinked and dinked, put a decent cross in which van Persie headed towards the general direction of goal, only to have Abbiati palm the ball away again.

In the 79^th minute, Ibrahimovic easily faked his way past Djourou before being pulled down in the box. There might have been minor simulation involved, but it hardly mattered at this point. He tucked away the penalty past Szczesny’s agonizingly close hands to score a goal he fully deserved.  The 4-0 was what Milan deserved.

There’s nothing much to say about the team. The usual culprits of inconsistency were inconsistent, and the dependable players had a collective howler to cap things off. Gibbs was okay considering this was his first game in a while, van Persie tried to make something of the paltry passes he received all game, and Henry was huffing and puffing, determined to make his swansong not end in disaster.

It didn’t, Theirry. Sunderland was your swansong. This was an aberration.

Arsenal

Dear diary,

It has been a dramatic season. One day we get beaten to pulp and another day we play like ballerinas. I really miss the fore head of Gervinho and the way he runs like a terrier before he hits the post and RVP scores another one of his brilliant goals. The winter window was okay, when I thought Wenger would sign like last time he signed another young lad from Germany and also signed a statue called “Thierry Henry” on loan. The signing of the statue was a treat, he came and lifted the spirits of us Gunners and also gave us a couple of goals to cherish and also feel bad deep inside that he will go back to being a statue in a few weeks. European nights are back and we face Milan away. I clearly know deep inside that we have a good chance of getting walloped and sent back home. Even if that happens I will laugh at all my tweeps who support MUFC saying at least we made it to the next round. Will we play in Europe next season? I don’t know (Reads this in a Wenger tone). Hoping for the best – Le Gunner

Another window, another baby

Chelsea

Dear Diary,

This has been a miserable season and I know that. The new manager looks confused, David Luiz is always confused, JT was stripped of something other than his clothes, Torres has been stripped of goals. The winter has been cold and the teams show has been colder. It looks like we will have to be happy with Europa league action next year. I don’t understand how the Chelsea hierarchy works; I don’t know why that rich Russian fires coaches like Carlo. Napoli away in Europe is no easy match. Our form now is as bad as David Luiz’s hairdo and we need to do something about both of it.  –A blue Chelsea fan

Dear diary, I scored zero goals today

Manchester United

Dear diary,

It has been a season filled with drama, controversies, big wins and awful defeats. This may sound like any other fans diary but on zooming into each issue it sound all too important for me and my fellow Mancs. We won #19 last season and started off like a symphony orchestra until one day we were beaten like a set in the game of tennis (1-6). Then the injuries, champions league, Carling cup and FA cup exits followed by the ugly race battle with the Scousers.  Last week we showed the Scousers that your performance on the field should speak and nothing else. I think it’s high time both the clubs move on with life. Thursday night football also beckons us for the first time; this means waking up groggy on a Friday morning and it also means some game time for the young guns. I hope we win this trophy too- A RED

A convo between a United fan and a citeh fan

Liverpool

Dear diary,

No trophies and no goals. This is irritating in itself, but just when I thought this would be the last of the race row. The players acted like idiots and gave the game away. Deep inside I feel it’s all Man United fault. It is because of them we don’t play in the CL. I think we can still do the treble this season. We are in the final of the Carling cup, still alive in the FA cup and also in the title race (At least that’s what I feel)-  An optimistic Scouser

This happens every time.

“We have all been watching the kind of hatred and vitriol this simple gesture is causing in the human world”, purred one of the fat cats of the FA at their London HQ “and we are concerned that such behaviour will soon spread to the animal world. People should just move on with their lives, there is no point crying over spilt milk”, he exclaimed emphatically as his tongue tried to reach the last drop of white stuck on his third mustache.

Immediately, a cat in red jumped up and started celebrating and waving his hands about in front of another one who had been keeping himself amused by punching a ball of wool into the air. Disgusted by the other cat’s celebrations, he got up, flicked a finger in the general direction of the crowd and stormed out, not realizing that he wouldn’t return for another 8 meetings.

                                        *                                        *                                        *

At the same time less than 3 miles away, like all upstanding journalists, our Irreverent Reporter (IR)© was groggily checking his twitter feed from the comfort of his bed to get his lead story of the day.

@TopCat_FIFA: Lolz, these English Cats can’t haz cheezburgers first, now they can’t haz shakes!

@rioferdy6: Ha ha! RT @TopCat_FIFA Lolz, these English Cats can’t haz cheezburgers first, now they can’t haz shakes! Screw you @Piers!

@Catini_UEFA: @TopCat_FIFA, erm, I think they mean a handshake. Something involving racism and everything…

@rioferdy6: Ha ha! Apparently @TopCat_FIFA screwed up again. Screw you @Piers! @tomcatz23 @wil(che)shire RTs appreciated!

@tomcatz23: @wil(che)shire Yo, this ferdy cat’s got to chill a bit I think. Anyway, what’re you doing for dinner tonight?

@TopCat_FIFA: Lolz, there’s no racism. I’m sure it can all be settled by a shake… oh.

Having read enough to get his inquisitive juices running, our Irreverent Reporter (IR)© jumped into his pants and scurried down to FA HQ to catch the rest of the conference, replying to @rioferdy6′s tweet on his way and thus beginning the day’s amusement.

                                        *                                        *                                        *

“… and we are kinda disappointed that they have already got to our canine brethren. Truth to be told though, we never expected anything better from those tail-waggers”, the fat cat rambled on.

Those bloody traitors!

 ”In the light of this disrespect shown to the FA by going out and actually shaking another hand, we hereby inform that El Canino will no longer be in charge of the national team. This has nothing to do with the fact that he stuck by Terrier here for Captain, or that he’s different from us. This is only about the shaking. No Terrier, shagging’s still ok, we said shaking“,

“It is indeed a helpful coincidence that our very own, home-bred, domesticated Hairy Red Cat is just getting available…”, when he received a not-so-painless scratch on his hand. “Oh, was I not supposed to say that? Alright fine, go ahead and make up all the letting cats out of bags analogies that you want”

Now just imagine that's a red cat

“On an entirely different note, we would also like to clarify that the pussy that wandered onto the pitch at Anfield was in no way affiliated to us or Terrier, notwithstanding his propensity for it. We just think the fella had a bit too much to drink, or his milk was spiked.”

“That’s all we had, thank you all for coming. There’s fish and chips out back, so feel free to dig in. We will keep you posted on Hairy… I mean, the vacancy for the national team” concluded the chief as all the fat cats shuffled out of the room.

Thoroughly shaken by all this handshake news, our Irreverent Reporter (IR)© trudged back to work, shaking his head slowly at the developments. All this while he had thought it was the sheiks who were shaking things up in football, but there seemed to be a more sinister force at work. Tired and shaky from all the actual reporting he had to do, he pulled out his phone again to see if there was an easier way to make a story up around @ravelm’s tweets…

It was feverish. It was adrenaline-pumping, kid-induced silliness at its very worst. But it was just a handshake. So what if he didn’t shake an opponent’s hand? Is that a crime. Why pass all this bitternol and hatred over something as silly and as trivial as a handshake.

The Handshake Bit

The game began. And right on cue, the boos began for Luis Suarez. The same fans who had accused the Liverpool fans for booing Patrice Evra booed Luis Suarez (I do understand that booing a man accused of racism is quite different from booing a man who complained of racial abuse. I do know that there is a big difference between the two).

Before the game, some United fans brought with them masks strangely resembling the Ku Klux Klan. What next? Want to bring back hooliganism to the game? Seriously, why bring such poison to a game of football.

Ok. So what if he did not shake a hand? Are you all, am looking at Manchester United fans, fellow respected journalists and other assorted neutrals (even Arsenal fans, remember Wenger is one of the biggest sour losers ever and doesn’t always shake hands), patron saints of the Vatican?

That handshake ritual should be done with from the game, for good. It will stop the press from wasting column space. It will stop Oliver Holt from wetting his pants on Twitter. It will stop aggravating incidents; already fragile incidents. So what if the FA, Alex Ferguson and other assorted people including Gareth Bale think handshakes should be continued as a part of a history or tradition if you will. Are you trying to tell me that modern day footballers who so want to stay in light with tradtion, act like gentlemen and never dive, never ask for cards and so on?

It’s a contact sport FFS. Not a freak show at a tanning corporation. Roy Keane said if Ince, Hughes and he had played the game, Suarez would have wished he would have shaked hands then and there. If this is the mentality they had while playing football, no wonder that England and other associated teams belonging to Great Britain have done squat so far. All over a handshake.

Granted Suarez could have saved all the trouble by shaking the hands but he chose not to. Evra, either wanted to be a bigger man or paint himself as a saint. Given Evra’s, shall we say, cockered history, he was trying to play saint. Now if I was Suarez, I wouldn’t have shaked his hands either. That’s just plain human nature. Suarez had come out and accepted he called Evra a negro or whatever. He has also apologised for what he did. Now it’s entirely his decision to handshake or not. He chose not to. Fucking move on.

The Racism Bit

So one man called another a black. This man goes up and complains: “He called me a black. Please take action against him.” The committee promptly finds him guilty and bans him. This man who was charged with abuse says “Yes, I did. But I only called him that because I heard his team-mates call him that.”

At least that’s what he said. Fair play to the committee because they banned him and he promptly served it. Now coming back to the bit which I find amusing is that we, Indians, having a personal opinion and feeling too strongly about it. The majority of us are blacks, with some browns being in the minority. And a very few whites, if any. Now can we understand this concept? Or do we just go by blind faith? All of us obviously go by blind faith. We are just so into supporting our own club, thump our chest and kiss our badges that we all forget one crucial thing: are we all even real fans of the club? Will we still be supporting the club we are supporting right now if we were all, say, born in England? Would I be supporting Arsenal if I was born and brought up in Worcester. The answer is obviously not. So dear Indian fans supporting overseas teams, take a chill pill, let it boil over and stop this obsession of trying to be houlier than thou. Both sets are as bad or as good as the other.

A thing I can’t understand is why are rival fans and journalists not understanding Kenny Dalglish’s support to Suarez (BFZ Ed: Is this what Liverpool have retracted now?) He believes that his player shouldn’t have been banned in the first place. Even if he felt that Suarez was to be blamed, do you honestly expect your manager to feed his own player to the wolves: media, other players and so on? Would you even for one moment think that Ferguson and Wenger would have done something different? Wenger would have probably not seen it while Ferguson would have blamed the fourth official. And how is all this affecting the legacy of the club or the manager? These incidents will be forgotten over time while the club(s) will continue to grow.

Ferguson said Suarez’s actions could have caused a riot. The United fans and journalists were already absorbing and nodding their heads. Now dear Ferguson, you know what more could have caused a riot. An idiot who came into Old Trafford wearing a T-shirt with the slogan, “This is Klanfield” with the picture of Luis Suarez. Wonder why no hack or United fans have written about it.

Que Sera Sera.

Team News

Wenger was always going to put out a strong team here; I suspect the FA Cup game at the end of the week will bear the brunt of rotation, and understandably so. The front three of van Persie, Walcott and Chamberlain was unchanged, having been involved in six of the seven goals scored against hapless Blackburn. Rosicky starting over Ramsey was both a hat-tip to the Czech dynamo’s form of late, and the realization that Ramsey was badly in need of a breather. At the back, Bacary the Brave returned, and Gibbs was deemed fit enough to be on the bench but not to start as Vermaelen was persisted with at left-back. Maybe the manager thought that our tinderbox Englishman would spontaneously break all leg bones in his body because of…

The Pitch

Which was, quite frankly, atrocious. I accept that stadiums have had problems with the heavy snowing, but it seemed like a battalion of oxen had enjoyed a zestful night-out on the Sunderland green before D-lines had hastily been drawn to prep the ground for a football match. The ball wobbled and jumped, passes and crosses were accompanied with flying lumps of grass as both teams tried to negotiate ninety minutes on a patch of earth more suitable to tending potatoes.

This made the first half a relatively turgid affair, with Sunderland’s propensity to keep all players behind the ball and Arsenal’s unwillingness to increase the pace of the game not helping. Trying to recall moments worth remembering is akin to finding two Adam Sandler movies that are different. A Frazier Campbell snapshot after pandemonium at the edge of the Arsenal box, Walcott’s optimistic cross-shot from the right, Mertesacker tripping over one of the many plateaus on the pitch and inadvertently handling the ball, and a referee that actually got all the big calls right are all the highlights I can muster; and Match of the Day could do little better.

The Second Half

And our attack had more verve, but the Sunderland forays had more end-product. Arsenal had the lion’s share of possession in both halves, but the opening minutes of the second forty-five had a quicker exchange of passes, more movement, and a minute easing of the handbrake overall. But hearts went all a-flutter in the common room whenever Sunderland broke in counter-attack, well aware in Arsenal’s uncanny ability to concede when on top.

A cheap free-kick on the edge of the box squirmed under the wall and fell for O’Shea who thankfully blasted over from close range. An extended loop of SunderlandTakeCorner-ArsenalClearCorner later, Gardner lashed one in ferociously from twenty yards which was kept out by a scrambling Szczesny save. One sensed that the match would either lumber to an unexciting close, or a spark would light up a spate of twenty-minute fireworks.

Spark it was. Mertesacker had the ball after a Sunderland counter looked to have been smothered, when his ankle went and he plummeted like a big German skyscraper in very evident pain. While fair-play dictates that Sunderland should have kicked the ball out of play, I think it’s unrealistic to expect McLean to stop when he had only Szczesny and one defender to beat. I would have wanted an Arsenal player to do the same, so yeah. The lanky wingman darted forward and swept a raking shot past the keeper into the far corner. The game was alive.

Arsene’s substitutions only aided to this shot-in-the-heart. Ramsey came on for the ailing Mertesacker as Song dropped into defence; Arsenal now had two ball-playing centre backs in addition to three pass-picking midfielders. Henry came on for Chamberlain on a day which both English wingers were mediocre. Arsenal’s ball-pinging resumed.

Arteta took stock of his options at the edge of the box, slipped it into RvP, it came back out to him beseeching to be shot and he obliged. The obligation was noble in essence but lacking in technique however, the miscue taking a deflection and falling to Ramsey. His attempt was much better.

Off both posts and in, we had crossed the first hurdle and the consensus in the common-room was that a draw would be received with grace and dignity. Arsene brought on Arshavin for the poor Walcott with five minutes left to play, and the Russian was in a very cross-y mood from the off, flinging accurate balls into the box, one of which resulted in a van Persie header straight at Mingolet.

Henry- Goalscorer, Leader, Scriptwriter

The man can write a football script, you have to hand it to him. He hardly saw the ball after coming on, all attempted long passes and through balls in his direction being easily cut out. But then Arsenal’s darling and Arsenal’s not-so-darling combined in a moment of combined quality, as the common room lost all sense of decorum and erupted.

Arshavin dug into the earthy Sunderland surface and pulled off his best cross yet, and Henry daintily opened his foot at the last second to steer the ball past Mignolet and send Arsenal fourth. His last contribution in the Premier League, another goal to add to the play-and-weep collection, a very happy end to the day and a very happy start to the week.

I won’t be as gung-ho as to say ‘Bring on Milan!’, but yeah, bring them on without the exclamation marks please. One game at a time, we shall see.

Shoestring.

David Moyes must be sick of the word by now. Every single mention of his Everton team is accompanied by an ode to his powers of wheeling and dealing. (No offense ‘Arry; you’re a terrific geezer.) Ah well, but he’s done it again this January, and his bunch of merry men seem set for the customary  second half of the season surge up the table. And they quite like the taste of Chelsea at home, don’t they?

A midfield of Meireles, Essien and Malouda. Players who respectively are knackered, rusty and ‘No longer give a fuck’. And to still go three goals up against United last week surely has to be a miraculous feat. That Howard Webb contrived to bring the opponents back into the game, assisted in no small measure by AVB failing to take the game by the scruff of the neck (royalties to Steven Gerrard there) is a different matter altogether. However what was most worrying was how vulnerable the team looked after the second penalty went in. Sure, the absence of Terry and Lampard and a shuffled up defence are reasons, but they’re not enough to explain the complete inability to string two passes together when United were piling on the pressure.

With our midfield as uninspiring as an Electrical Sciences lecture at the moment; Tim Cahill may just as well begin brushing up his boxing skills. Meireles has been off his game for a while now and is crying out loud for a break with his insipid performances; but things do seem to be looking upwards. Essien is slowly working his way back to full fitness and Lampard and Mikel further boost numbers in the middle. Lampard and Essien should ideally be starting, with Mikel/Romeu holding.

However impressive Bosingwa was at left back against United, he’s a completely different proposition on the right, carelessly straying forward and repeatedly caught out of position. Ivanovic would be better equipped at right back against Pienaar and Baines, with Cahill and Luiz continuing in the middle against the new SPL hotshot (remember Jan Venegoor of Hesselink?). Ashley Cole must have been thanking his stars for the break last week, with AVB insistent on running him to ground, instead of giving Bertrand a go. You can bet your house on him going straight in.

Up front, Torres and Mata are increasingly showing signs of the spooky mental connection everyone seemed to be talking about at the beginning of the season. However someone needs to catch hold of Sturridge and ask him to look up and pass once in a while, instead of scurrying away on the right and taking shots from improbable angles. He should have plenty of fun against Hibbert though. Oh, and for fucks sake, Fernando; shoot!

Our games are very hard to predict these days. Sometimes an entire match passes with hardly a chance created. Others, you lose count of the number of the chances missed.

Similarly, It’s been a strange old season so far. A flood of late goals have been let in. Empty goals have been missed. 3-0 leads been squandered. Befuddling team selections. Strange substitutions.  But for all the flaws, we’re seeing the emergence of the new, young Chelsea. It may not be all smooth sailing, but it sure as hell is going to be exciting.

On Saturday, we travel to Sunderland for a jittery League fixture in a season where our away form has been cack. Midweek duties will have us pulling up our stockings as the Champions League theme trills in the background; facing a Milan side who are as beset with injuries as we usually are, and are as unpredictable in their awesomeness-awfulness carousel as we are too. A very hectic seven days will conclude with a return trip to Sunderland for the fifth round of the FA Cup, the last trophy we can realistically win this season. Two visits to a shady dhaba sandwiched between a sojourn to the Ritz, but every trip is of imperative importance. (This is called a double-positive adjective)

Sunderland- Shady dhaba no more?

The Stadium of Light (Kaake da Stadium) has been an unforgiving place to us over the past few years. Just like the modest roadside eateries on the Pilani-Chirawa road often have the most sumptuous of dishes irrespective of the hideous level of hygiene prevailing; so does the Sunderland team turn up in droves against Arsenal to flick points off us irrespective of the depths they might be lounging in the table otherwise. The last win I remember over at their place was a dead-rubber 1-0 in 2007-08. It’s been too long.

But it sadly looks like it might just be a bit longer. A new manager usually has a honeymoon effect on the team, with results being churned out in his first few matches before inertia catches up and exposes the manager’s true level of competence or lack of it. But Martin O’Neill’s honeymoon is lasting for an impressively long time, with the Black Cats earning 22 of the last 30 points on offer. Transpose that form onto the entire season and you get 84 points; title-winning stuff.

Sessegnon (injured?) and McLean seem like players who can trouble our flanks a lot, and Larsson always love a free-kick goal against us. They are riding high on the crest of an O’Neill wave, while we are recovering from the tsunami which wrecked our New Year. Gibbs should be back, gingerly nursing every nut and bolt of his groin, while Sagna will also start in all golden-mane glory. Having regulation full-backs will surely help in restoring balance to the side and making our wingers more effective, but I still make a hearty ‘Pfft’ noise at the possibility of us returning from Kaake da Stadium with two wins out of two.

Which of the two would I rather win? I’d be happy with a draw in the League game and a win to take us to the sixth round of the cup. The other way round is also acceptable, although I balk at FA Cup replays, even when they’re at home. Lose both and it’s ho followed by a very desolate hum. Win both and I’ll probably kiss you on the cheeks. And you. No, not you; your acne repels me.

AC Milan- Is The Ritz down for maintenance?

Logic dictates that a visit to the imposing San Siro should produce a greater fluttering of the heart than travels to the windy North-East. And it did, before friendly gooners on the twittersphere informed me that all is not hale and hearty with the Italian giants in times current.

Their 2012 almost mirrors ours, with a mother of an injury list and a stuck-out tongue from Lady Luck resulting in losses which might have been draws and draws which might have been wins. They’re out of the Coppa Italia, they have an away encounter at Udinese over the weekend which should see them sapped of almost the same life-force as our Sunderland stopover will.

Gattuso probably ate a few extra rhinos for breakfast and is out injured, as is Cassano, star-player and agile Brazilian Pato, not-so-star player and mercenary Frenchman Flamini, and purveyor of wonder-goals and ridiculous dances Kevin-Prince Boateng. That is a sizable sick-list by any standards, and high-profile games require high-profile players to make a difference.

This is in no way an indictment of Milan’s ability to perform; I’ve seen the Rossoneri take games by the horns and beat the opposition to a pulp many-a times. But I’m basing this amateur hunch on the same grounds which I’m basing the Sunderland one- momentum is important in football matches. But perhaps as important is football’s isolated nature- a game can be won by any team irrespective of the form hitherto shown. Bravo, I’ve gone and contradicted myself in successive sentences.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that predicting stuff is stupid. I’m just going to clutch at lucky rabbit feet and mystical lockets, praying that we come out of this hell-week relatively unscathed. Because the week after that reads Tottenham at home, Liverpool away and AC Milan at home. Oh summer, why must thou be such a finicky bastard?

Whereas last season money was being splashed out on the likes of Fernando Torres and Andy Carroll like a mad gambler who got his greasy mits on a load of free bets, the window this time around was a lot more sensible, indicating a lot less value in the market. Or maybe oil prices were just not high enough, you never know.

Here are our thoughts on some of the permanent transfers and loan moves that took place in January.

Papiss Demba Cisse

From: Freiburg To: Newcastle United Fee: £10 million

Already looking like the transfer of the… well, transfer window, Magpies manager Alan Pardew forked out £10 million on Cisse to take the “Two Demba’s” striker partnership for Senegal to club level. Cisse broke Tony Yeboah’s record for the most goals scored by an African player in one season and the 22 goals he scored also set a scoring record for a Freiburg player.

Gary Cahill

From: Bolton Wanderers To: Chelsea Fee: £7 million

Sought after defender Cahill joined Chelsea even though at one stage it was rumoured Manchester United would sign him. As it turned out, he played his first ever game for Chelsea against that very club, and it’s safe to say he had a solid, if slightly fortuitous debut. After almost 150 appearances in all competitions for Bolton, he is set to form a “club and country” defensive partnership with John Terry.

Kevin de Bruyne

From: Genk To: Chelsea Fee: £6.7 million

Among the slightly under-the-radar moves of the season, we won’t see anything of de Bruyne this season because Chelsea immediately loaned the 20-year-old back to Genk. The attacking midfielder looks an excellent prospect and already has a medal to his name – winning the Belgian league with Genk last season.

Nikica Jelavic

From: Rangers To: Everton Fee: £5.5 million

Everton broke the bank and the hearts of all the statisticians who were set to compile ‘longest period without signing anyone’ records by rescuing Nikica from the travails of the most heated derby in Britain and giving him a taste of… Oh. The Croatian striker who scored 30 goals in 45 league appearances for Rangers was courted by Liverpool, Sunderland and West Bromwich Albion but joined Everton on deadline day.

Darron Gibson

From: Manchester United To: Everton Fee: Undisclosed

And then they broke some more of the bank and the hearts of all of United’s opponents by signing Super Gibbo! After finding first team football difficult to come by at Old Trafford over the past couple of seasons, Republic of Ireland midfielder Gibson joined the Toffees. The rest as they say, is a very brief history as he became an instant hero to both his new supporters and those at United when he netted a spectacular winner against Manchester City.

Djibril Cisse

From: Lazio To: QPR Fee: £4 million

Former Liverpool and Sunderland striker Cisse made an immediate impact when he scored just 11 minutes into his QPR debut against Aston Villa, and then made even more of an impact on Roger Johnson’s throat as he showed that he was well capable of racking up numbers in both the goals and cards columns. Cisse was prolific during his time at Panathinaikos, scoring 47 goals in 61 matches but then had a lean spell at Lazio which paved the way for a move to Loftus Road.

Bobby Zamora

From: Fulham To: QPR Fee: £4 million

Mark Hughes further added to the strikers already on the books at QPR with the acquisition of 31-year-old Zamora. There was speculation of a rift between Zamora and his manager at Fulham, Martin Jol and the striker was linked with a number of clubs, including Aston Villa, Bolton Wanderers and Sunderland.

Nedum Onuoha

From: Manchester City To: QPR Fee: £3 million

Defender Onuoha signed a new five-year contract at Manchester City in 2009 but hardly featured in Roberto Mancini’s side. He proved he had a future in the Premier League with a successful loan spell at Sunderland last season and was linked with a host of top flight clubs. Blackburn Rovers and West Bromwich Albion were two clubs chasing his signature but he chose to work again with Hughes, who managed him at City.

Tim Ream

From: New York Red Bulls To: Bolton Wanderers Fee: £2.5 million

USA international defender Ream trained at the Reebok Stadium during the MLS off-season and manager Owen Coyle made the deal permanent after Gary Cahill switched to Chelsea. Ream’s manager at New York, Hans Backe, described him as a “European-type centre back” who reminded him of Rio Ferdinand. Too bad Bolton are not in Europe this season…

Jonny Howson

From: Leeds United To: Norwich City Fee: Undisclosed

Howson was due to leave Elland Road on a free transfer at the end of the season so they needed to cash in on him during January. Howson became the youngest player to captain Leeds since Billy Bremner in the early 1960s and made over 225 appearances in all competitions. Ay the tender age of 23, he is an exciting prospect for the Canaries.

Louis Saha

From: Everton To: Tottenham Hotspur Fee: Free

Aside from a spell at Fulham around a decade ago, you would not describe Saha as anything like a prolific striker. Indeed, he has just one Premier League goal to his name this season and has gone 942 minutes without scoring. Yet, Spurs manager Harry Redknapp saw fit to take him to his Premier League chasing side. Intriguing.

Steven Pienaar

From: Tottenham Hotspur To: Everton Fee: Loan

Canny David Moyes has apparently perfected the art of running a football club on a budget of about £344,241 pounds and some Beatles memorabilia. With LA Galaxy midfielder Landon Donovan a perennial Jan-Feb signing now, it’s the turn of Stevnr Pienaar to return to Everton just 12 months after departing for Spurs in a £3 million deal. He has found playing time limited at White Hart Lane and made just six appearances in all competitions this season. He made his name at Goodison Park and will want to perform well to prove he still has a future at Spurs.

David Pizarro

From: Roma To: Manchester City Fee: Loan

There has to be something wrong with the market when all that Manchester City can do is afford a loan move! Despite an abundance of midfield talent to choose from, even with Yaya Toure absent on Africa Cup of Nations duty, manager Roberto Mancini called in a favour from Pizarro, an old mate from his time at Inter Milan. Pizarro has made only a handful of appearances for Roma this season so just how much game-time he will get at City remains to be seen.

We promise to be the first to break the summer transfer news of John Terry to Liverpool as Anfield apparently has pussy on the pitch.

BigFourZa is proud to present its tribute to those who passed that day. Some things just go beyond football rivalries. RIP Babes

Red Devil

A song written and composed by our resident musical genius Surjo

Lyrics:

With heads bowed low, we remember you
You’re the heart which beats, the blood that flows,
Through the brick in these walls, the cheers in these halls,
The grass on the field, through the Theatre of Dreams,
You’re the light of the club, this club of our hearts,
You look down on us from afar, so far
You Red Devil on the stars, you made us who we are.

The path that you paved, this path we still walk,
You laid down your lives, your glory still talks,
United you fell, so we could stand tall,
The pride of the town, you United us all,
It’s been 60 years, and still we shed tears,
Cut down in your prime, gone before your time,
And just when it seemed, that all hope was lost,
We stood up to fight, we beat them all, we beat them all,
For those Devils on the stars, who made us what we are

The times have changed but what remains,
Is your passion and love for the game,
The Best have come and lent their name,
To the cause of Glory and Glory she came,
We’ve climbed so high it’s such a shame,
You couldn’t see what we became
It all started when you played the game,
You’ll never die Busby Babes!

Your legend lives on, a champion’s tale
The old reminisce, the young learn of the day
It fell from the sky and burst into flames,
The innocent lives, lost with no one to blame,
The charge that was fought, by those who lived on
Remember who fell, and for them carry on
We reach for the skies, ’cause that’s where we belong
The charge is fulfilled, the dream lives on, the dream lives on.
Red Devils on the stars, who made us what we are

With heads bowed low, We remember you!