Birmingham City have certainly played a lot better than they did yesterday this season, and got nothing from the game. This has been largely down to a chronic inability to score goals, and more recently, some poor refereeing decisions. In that case, thank heavens for Lee Bowyer. The former Leeds player rolled back the years yesterday with a performance that showed that he can still last 90 minutes at this level. The box to box midfielder showed his class with a well-taken goal 16 minutes into the game, after a beautifully insightful pass from James McFadden, who has too often failed to live up to expectations in the blue of Birmingham, after some excellent performances in the blue of Scotland.
After the pressure was lifted from St Andrews after the early goal, it was down to the defence of Birmingham to keep out the attack of Fulham, which consistently pressed throughout the second half, after offering little before the break. Where previous Birmingham City defences would have crumbled, this side is made of sterner stuff. Instead of ageing squad players such as Martin Taylor and Radhi Jaidi, Roger Johnson and Scott Dann have impressively made the step-up in divisions with relative ease. Many pundits and fans looked on in worry as Alex McLeish packed his defence with young Championship defenders; how would they cope against the likes of Rooney and Defoe? However, it is hoped that Johnson will do for Birmingham what Joleon Lescott did for Everton when he moved from Wolves, who, incidentally, Birmingham face next week in a local derby at Molineux. His partner Dann, although visibly lacking in experience and know-how, clearly has the talent and potential to become an established centre-half in the Premier League.
In a match lacking in quality and serious chances, mostly hindered by the weather, Fulham looked the brighter early on. Bobby Zamora, with so much untapped potential, played as the lone man up front, and looked lively as he troubled the Birmingham goal early on. Joe Hart, after looking shaky early on in the season, appeared to be far more assured as he commanded his goal and defenders. Hart, if he wants to become a serious contender for the England jersey, needs to come off his line and claim crosses more, but his handling, on a day when the ball was slippery, was perfect. Then came the goal, on 16 minutes: the one bit of true quality in the entire match. Bowyer, so often associated with simple workmanlike grit and determination, showed good presence of mind to burst into the box, and his composed finish was worthy of winning the game.
Roy Hodgson, although surely delighted with recent home wins over Liverpool and Hull, will be worried by his side's lack of penetration up front. Damien Duff remained on the bench for most of the match, after the way he terrorised the French defence on Wednesday night, and without him, there was no one to get to the byline for the away team. As any side with the giant Brede Hangeland in their ranks would be, Fulham looked dangerous from corners, probably their best chance of scoring. McLeish, after seeing his side record their 4th win of the season, claimed that his team were 'untidy', and probably echoed the feeling that I expressed in my opening line.
A third of the way into the season, however, and Birmingham are on course for 45 points, a tally that would comfortably ensure Premier League survival. With Wolves, Wigan, Blackburn and West Ham to come next for the Blues, Mcleish's men haven't lost since the takeover of Carson Yeung, and the disappearance of David Sullivan and Karren Brady. A coincidence? I somehow think not...
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Tradition V Modernity- Where football is the winner
There is every chance that England and Qatar will be battling it out to stage either the 2018 World Cup, or more likely, the 2022 World Cup. This represents a dilemma for FIFA: go with the tradition, where each stadium and each person lives and breathes football; or side with the 'new kid on the block' with bags of money, but a worrying lack of soul. At the risk of sounding like a footballing Victor Meldrew, who sits in his armchair not wanting the world to change, exclaiming 'I don't believe it!' whenever the planet decides to move on without informing him, this fight is surely over before it has even begun. Favouring Qatar over England would be like kicking your own mother and siding with the mouth-watering girl next door who has fluttered her eyelashes at you once since she's lived there for half a decade.
When England play Brazil, sparks fly, no matter how many first-teamers are missing for either side. There is usually a wealth of trickery on show from the Brazilians which comes up against the guile and pace of the England team. However, when the two met at the Khalifa Stadium in Doha the other day, all the energy seemed to be sucked out the game. Brazil showed only fleeting glimpses of brilliance; England failed to get out of first gear. Even the atmosphere reflected the game- it seemed as if, due to the heat, no one could be bothered. The radio commentary seemed lacklustre, although coming from a glass box, it is no wonder that the commentators couldn't get wrapped up in the game. England blamed the heat for their no-show in Germany 3 years ago. In July, temperatures reach around 40 degrees in Qatar. If every game is like the one on Saturday due to the stifling heat, then Qatar will certainly not be having my blessing.
In contrast, every single one of England's stadia has magic. Even the new 'stone bowls', such as Arsenal's Emirates Stadium appears to be a remarkably modern and smart looking stadium. Although some have criticised the New Wembley for lacking atmosphere, the mystique and history that surrounds 'the Home of Football' more than makes up for it. So much history surrounds English football, it seems a terrible state of affairs that the country that gave the world football has only hosted the biggest prize in world sport once. Perhaps the biggest factor in deciding that England should have the World Cup is the people. I imagine that some will have left the Khalifa Stadium on Saturday exclaiming that 'it's just not cricket'. As Mike Bassett once said, 'when England win, everyone is smiling. You go to any bus stop or workplace, and you will see people smiling'. If England win the World Cup, then people will be smiling for a month solidly.
The only thing that appears to be stopping England from taking back what is rightfully ours is the hapless Lord Triesmann, and his band of merry men and women. Everything else is in place- the stadia, the infrastructure, the history, and most importantly of all, the people. Over to you, m'Lud.
When England play Brazil, sparks fly, no matter how many first-teamers are missing for either side. There is usually a wealth of trickery on show from the Brazilians which comes up against the guile and pace of the England team. However, when the two met at the Khalifa Stadium in Doha the other day, all the energy seemed to be sucked out the game. Brazil showed only fleeting glimpses of brilliance; England failed to get out of first gear. Even the atmosphere reflected the game- it seemed as if, due to the heat, no one could be bothered. The radio commentary seemed lacklustre, although coming from a glass box, it is no wonder that the commentators couldn't get wrapped up in the game. England blamed the heat for their no-show in Germany 3 years ago. In July, temperatures reach around 40 degrees in Qatar. If every game is like the one on Saturday due to the stifling heat, then Qatar will certainly not be having my blessing.
In contrast, every single one of England's stadia has magic. Even the new 'stone bowls', such as Arsenal's Emirates Stadium appears to be a remarkably modern and smart looking stadium. Although some have criticised the New Wembley for lacking atmosphere, the mystique and history that surrounds 'the Home of Football' more than makes up for it. So much history surrounds English football, it seems a terrible state of affairs that the country that gave the world football has only hosted the biggest prize in world sport once. Perhaps the biggest factor in deciding that England should have the World Cup is the people. I imagine that some will have left the Khalifa Stadium on Saturday exclaiming that 'it's just not cricket'. As Mike Bassett once said, 'when England win, everyone is smiling. You go to any bus stop or workplace, and you will see people smiling'. If England win the World Cup, then people will be smiling for a month solidly.
The only thing that appears to be stopping England from taking back what is rightfully ours is the hapless Lord Triesmann, and his band of merry men and women. Everything else is in place- the stadia, the infrastructure, the history, and most importantly of all, the people. Over to you, m'Lud.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
You can punish Ngog, but where's our 3 points?
First and foremost, I would like to point out that if you think this article is biased, then you are probably right. I will try not to let my heart rule my head on this one, as I feel that if this had happened to any club in the lower reaches of the Premier League, where a win is so frustratingly difficult to come by, then I would feel equally angry and upset at an an act so blatantly intended to cheat the opposition. But, diehards being diehards, there will be an element of 'we woz robbed' creeping into this article, I fear.
Birmingham came to Anfieldwith a gameplan, which worked. Of course Liverpool were going to have 75% of the possession, and the vast majority of shots on goal. They were the home team, with a team that (even without the brilliance of Torres and a fully-fit Steven Gerrard) looked far superior to the team that Birmingham had to offer. The Blues could not have played expansive football, or else they would have been picked apart. To get anything out of the game, Birmingham had to turn the game into a scrap, and pray that they took their chances when they came along. Like Greece in Euro 2004, Birmingham did not succeed through playing 'rubbish' football. It may have been dour, but it worked to perfection.
However, when David Ngog tumbled over in the penalty area, all that hard work could have been wiped out. If Liverpool had scored straight from the kick-off to make it 3-2, and later grabbed a fourth goal, then Birmingham's gameplan would have been undone, essentially through an act of cheating. My first reaction when I saw that Lee Carsley had made no contact with Ngog was anger. This quickly gave way to sadness, and a sense of 'what's the point?' We will never know whether Birmingham would have held on to their lead on another day, when a more honest striker than David Ngog was playing up front. I don't feel that Ngog merely cheated Birmingham out of what could have been a famous win, I feel that he cheated Cameron Jerome, whose strike was more than worthy of winning any game; I feel he cheated those who reportedly collectively wagered £11m on the game; I feel he cheated the millions of neutrals watching the game on ESPN, who were keen to see whether Liverpool could arrest their slump through fair means; and perhaps most appallingly of all, I feel he cheated the 42,000 inside Anfield. This may seem laughable and very naiive, but if Ngog hadn't have dived, then the last 20 mins would have provided fantastic entertainment for both the Liverpool and the Birmingham fans. Instead, David Ngog finished the match as a contest when he decided to show absolutely no respect to Birmingham City, or any of the groups of people I've just mentioned.
Speaking to some Liverpool fans, I get the sense they think their draw feels a little bit hollow. There was an almost apologetic tone in Rafa Benitez's voice as he conducted his post-match interviews. For me, David Ngog can have no excuse. On Saturday, I was prepared to give Darren Bent the benefit of the doubt- Heurelho Gomes did make contact, and at any rate, would have brought him down anyway- in a sense, Bent jumped before he was pushed. With Ngog's dive, however, nothing can save him from the ire of Birmingham City fans. Lee Carsley was nowhere near the striker. I don't blame referee Paul Walton either. My first reaction when Carsley dived in was 'penalty'. The attack moved at such speed, the referee didn't stand a chance. Referees are heavily reliant on the honesty of players. If a player goes down with what looks like a serious injury, they have to trust that they're not simply feigning to get the game stopped. The same thing can be said with divers. There is no hard and fast rule to spotting a dive, and I believe Walton is 100% blameless.
Just as a child who cheats at Monopoly needs to be reprimanded by their parents, David Ngog needs to be given a stern talking-to by Rafael Benitez. Unfortunately, I doubt that it will happen. I've learned today that no action can be taken by the FA against Ngog, as Walton dealt with the issue at the time. To me, this sounds lame. The only way of changing the ways of the cheats is to punish them. And even if Ngog is banned for life, and Darren Bent hung at dawn, Birmingham will hope and pray that they're not relegated by two points at the end of the year.
Birmingham came to Anfieldwith a gameplan, which worked. Of course Liverpool were going to have 75% of the possession, and the vast majority of shots on goal. They were the home team, with a team that (even without the brilliance of Torres and a fully-fit Steven Gerrard) looked far superior to the team that Birmingham had to offer. The Blues could not have played expansive football, or else they would have been picked apart. To get anything out of the game, Birmingham had to turn the game into a scrap, and pray that they took their chances when they came along. Like Greece in Euro 2004, Birmingham did not succeed through playing 'rubbish' football. It may have been dour, but it worked to perfection.
However, when David Ngog tumbled over in the penalty area, all that hard work could have been wiped out. If Liverpool had scored straight from the kick-off to make it 3-2, and later grabbed a fourth goal, then Birmingham's gameplan would have been undone, essentially through an act of cheating. My first reaction when I saw that Lee Carsley had made no contact with Ngog was anger. This quickly gave way to sadness, and a sense of 'what's the point?' We will never know whether Birmingham would have held on to their lead on another day, when a more honest striker than David Ngog was playing up front. I don't feel that Ngog merely cheated Birmingham out of what could have been a famous win, I feel that he cheated Cameron Jerome, whose strike was more than worthy of winning any game; I feel he cheated those who reportedly collectively wagered £11m on the game; I feel he cheated the millions of neutrals watching the game on ESPN, who were keen to see whether Liverpool could arrest their slump through fair means; and perhaps most appallingly of all, I feel he cheated the 42,000 inside Anfield. This may seem laughable and very naiive, but if Ngog hadn't have dived, then the last 20 mins would have provided fantastic entertainment for both the Liverpool and the Birmingham fans. Instead, David Ngog finished the match as a contest when he decided to show absolutely no respect to Birmingham City, or any of the groups of people I've just mentioned.
Speaking to some Liverpool fans, I get the sense they think their draw feels a little bit hollow. There was an almost apologetic tone in Rafa Benitez's voice as he conducted his post-match interviews. For me, David Ngog can have no excuse. On Saturday, I was prepared to give Darren Bent the benefit of the doubt- Heurelho Gomes did make contact, and at any rate, would have brought him down anyway- in a sense, Bent jumped before he was pushed. With Ngog's dive, however, nothing can save him from the ire of Birmingham City fans. Lee Carsley was nowhere near the striker. I don't blame referee Paul Walton either. My first reaction when Carsley dived in was 'penalty'. The attack moved at such speed, the referee didn't stand a chance. Referees are heavily reliant on the honesty of players. If a player goes down with what looks like a serious injury, they have to trust that they're not simply feigning to get the game stopped. The same thing can be said with divers. There is no hard and fast rule to spotting a dive, and I believe Walton is 100% blameless.
Just as a child who cheats at Monopoly needs to be reprimanded by their parents, David Ngog needs to be given a stern talking-to by Rafael Benitez. Unfortunately, I doubt that it will happen. I've learned today that no action can be taken by the FA against Ngog, as Walton dealt with the issue at the time. To me, this sounds lame. The only way of changing the ways of the cheats is to punish them. And even if Ngog is banned for life, and Darren Bent hung at dawn, Birmingham will hope and pray that they're not relegated by two points at the end of the year.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Why I really don't want to like Top Gear
Being home alone is both a blessing, and a curse. A blessing in the sense that you can watch whatever you want- you have total carte blanche in terms of what goes on the television. However, it is a curse in the sense that whilst watching a random repeat on 'Dave', you can stumble across something that you really don't want to like- but find yourself chuckling.
I have always prided myself on how I have a vehement dislike and non-interest in cars. By association, I have a strong dislike for Top Gear, and Jeremy Clarkson to boot. You might think that given my bordering-on-unhealthy obsession with football, cars would be right up my street. But to me, they all look the same. I can't tell a Ford Escort from a Ferrari, or a Subaru from a Saab. If ever I see what a call a 'car bore' at a party (40-something male, bohemian scarf, trousers far too tight) I veer away from them at a rate of knots. And this is what I have always assumed Top Gear is like. Three car bores guffawing at the latest model of Skoda, with the occasional 'boys' day out', like three 11 year olds. Since my epiphany on Friday, however, I will, in part, take that back.
In this episode, Clarkson, May and Hammond all tried to cross the Channel from Dover to Calais, using a car. No, really. This idea in itself simply sounds like another 'boys and their toys' outing. I was alongside the three blokes' mothers tutting on the sidelines, sighing 'I'll call the ambulance when it all goes wrong'. But in fact, the repartee between the three presenters was actually very funny. They've all developed characters- Hammond is the excitable schoolboy, May the useless buffoon, and Clarkson the arrogant pr*ck who brags about his victory for weeks afterwards. We all know a Clarkson. I appreciate that the motor-mouth is the reason the show works, but I still can't face even an ounce of liking towards him. I much prefer his shaggy-haired foil, James May. May is stubborn, but determined, beaten-down but not beaten. We all love an underdog, and May is the underdog in this programme. Admittedly he remains the underdog throughout, and bears the brunt of Clarkson and Hammond's fury, but James May is arguably the friendly fella' with an interest in cars, as opposed to 'the car bore'.
They also had music legend Jools Holland on the show, to talk mainly about cars. This bit was the bit I was dreading. We can all laugh along at the Channel section, where knowledge of cars is obsolete, but when the facts and figures come out, I get the urge to either run out the room crying, or turn over to the friendly, welcoming face of Sky Sports News. As it happens, I stick it out. Admittedly, I'd have had more of an idea what they were talking about if they were chatting in Russian, but the knowledgeable conversation between Holland and Clarkson, solely about cars, really impressed me. I had a respect for how they'd managed to commit to memory all these gas-guzzling facts about cars, in the same way that I've committed to memory Birmingham's next 5 fixtures. True, all three of us would be better off learning something worthwhile, but I was still impressed.
I still can't bring myself to wholeheartedly embrace the show. Something holds me back. Maybe it is the subconscious me stopping myself, after cars featured in 90% of all the Physics questions I've ever answered. Perhaps I have this deep fear that cars are somehow nerdy, and I would be betraying my footballing self to even acknowledge the interesting aspect of cars- Top Gear. Or perhaps the one thing that puts me off is the absurd and irony-free remark that revving a certain super-car is like 'the Devil clearing his throat'. Oh how I flocked to a re-run of 2004's greatest goals!
I have always prided myself on how I have a vehement dislike and non-interest in cars. By association, I have a strong dislike for Top Gear, and Jeremy Clarkson to boot. You might think that given my bordering-on-unhealthy obsession with football, cars would be right up my street. But to me, they all look the same. I can't tell a Ford Escort from a Ferrari, or a Subaru from a Saab. If ever I see what a call a 'car bore' at a party (40-something male, bohemian scarf, trousers far too tight) I veer away from them at a rate of knots. And this is what I have always assumed Top Gear is like. Three car bores guffawing at the latest model of Skoda, with the occasional 'boys' day out', like three 11 year olds. Since my epiphany on Friday, however, I will, in part, take that back.
In this episode, Clarkson, May and Hammond all tried to cross the Channel from Dover to Calais, using a car. No, really. This idea in itself simply sounds like another 'boys and their toys' outing. I was alongside the three blokes' mothers tutting on the sidelines, sighing 'I'll call the ambulance when it all goes wrong'. But in fact, the repartee between the three presenters was actually very funny. They've all developed characters- Hammond is the excitable schoolboy, May the useless buffoon, and Clarkson the arrogant pr*ck who brags about his victory for weeks afterwards. We all know a Clarkson. I appreciate that the motor-mouth is the reason the show works, but I still can't face even an ounce of liking towards him. I much prefer his shaggy-haired foil, James May. May is stubborn, but determined, beaten-down but not beaten. We all love an underdog, and May is the underdog in this programme. Admittedly he remains the underdog throughout, and bears the brunt of Clarkson and Hammond's fury, but James May is arguably the friendly fella' with an interest in cars, as opposed to 'the car bore'.
They also had music legend Jools Holland on the show, to talk mainly about cars. This bit was the bit I was dreading. We can all laugh along at the Channel section, where knowledge of cars is obsolete, but when the facts and figures come out, I get the urge to either run out the room crying, or turn over to the friendly, welcoming face of Sky Sports News. As it happens, I stick it out. Admittedly, I'd have had more of an idea what they were talking about if they were chatting in Russian, but the knowledgeable conversation between Holland and Clarkson, solely about cars, really impressed me. I had a respect for how they'd managed to commit to memory all these gas-guzzling facts about cars, in the same way that I've committed to memory Birmingham's next 5 fixtures. True, all three of us would be better off learning something worthwhile, but I was still impressed.
I still can't bring myself to wholeheartedly embrace the show. Something holds me back. Maybe it is the subconscious me stopping myself, after cars featured in 90% of all the Physics questions I've ever answered. Perhaps I have this deep fear that cars are somehow nerdy, and I would be betraying my footballing self to even acknowledge the interesting aspect of cars- Top Gear. Or perhaps the one thing that puts me off is the absurd and irony-free remark that revving a certain super-car is like 'the Devil clearing his throat'. Oh how I flocked to a re-run of 2004's greatest goals!
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