I don't know if you've noticed, but there's an awful lot of football on the TV at the moment. How on earth do you choose which games to watch, acknowledging that it's impossible to watch every single one of the 64 games over the next 30 days? Hopefully, this cut-out-and-keep guide will help you to decide.
Of course, you could pick it simply by the television channel, or if you can't find the remote, you may have to stick with the one channel. On the one hand, we have the highly-professional and smooth BBC, with its many different pundits, presented by the steady, yet bland hand of Gary Lineker. The studio of the BBC is very impressive, with a stunning backdrop overlooking Table Mountain. On the downside, some of the punditry leaves a lot to be desired. Today's line-up was like a bad joke, with Adebayor, Lawro and Hansen: a Scotsman, an Irishman and a Togolese are in a studio. Alan Hansen showed himself up to be a dour xenophobic Scotsman with his highly patronising comment towards Adebayor in 'Brit-on-holiday' speech: 'YOU LIKE RIBERY, YEAH?'
There is, of course, the dark side. ITV. To be fair to ITV, they have at least splashed the cash on a shiny new studio, in contrast to four years ago when they appeared to be broadcasting from the remains of Hitler's bunker. Adrian Chiles is fulfilling the role of 'fan', accompanied by another Irishman (Andy Townsend) and Gareth Southgate, a man who seems to pride himself on stating the obvious.
In the respective gantries, BBC has the edge. The cynical Mark Lawrenson aside, BBC seem to have come up trumps with their co-commentators. Even though it takes a bit of getting used to, Mick McCarthy's Yorkshire hum is a refreshing change, and he does, unlike Lawro, know what he's talking about. ITV, in contrast, is a nightmare. Peter Drury yesterday was on the verge of exploding, and he was that biased towards South Africa, I half-expected him to pull out a vuvuzela. Clive 'Mr Man Utd' Tyldesly is no better, and has been dining out on his infamous commentary clip in 1999's European Cup Final since that night in Barcelona.
You could of course, pick a side and just watch their games. If you want to be a bit different, pick a team based on a random fact you once heard. For example, West Brom fans might be interested to hear that Lars Lagerback, the Nigeria manager, once claimed his favourite player was Kenny Hibbitt, who played for the Wolves. Or you may want to support Nigeria simply because they have a manager called Lagerback, who sounds like a creation from Harry Potter. I will be supporting Serbia, simply because Nikola Zigic, the Serbian centre-forward, is the only Birmingham player at the tournament. Also, there is no confusingly South American sounding 'Montenegro' at the end, which makes things a lot easier.
Work or school may get in the way. I've planned my free periods meticulously, and am delighted to see that I'll be able to watch Greece v Nigeria next week, both of whom looked dire in their first games. Not. All I'm hoping is that there won't be five minutes of injury time at the end of the 12:30 games, or else I could be running into afternoon lessons looking very sweaty, having just seen Nikola Zigic bury a 30 yard volley into the top corner with the last kick of the match.
Basically, unless you don't care about football (or have just been made redundant or sacked and can watch every game) these are very difficult decisions to make. Sacrifices will be made. Relationships may die. But when it comes down to it, you have to decide which is more important: getting to class on time, or watching David Suazo hammer in a penalty against Chile for Honduras.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Nothing like a good freak show
If variety, as the saying goes, is the spice of life, then surely Britain's Got Talent should be on prescription. A self-proclaimed 'Variety Contest', the juggernaut is on every night this week, gearing itself up for the Grand Final on Saturday night. What we love about the show, what marks it out from every other talent show on TV, is the variety. Why, there's singers, dancers, a few more singers, a dance group...
Don't get me wrong, I find the show horribly entertaining. There's nothing I like more than a good freak show to warm the cockles and make me feel hugely satisfied with my life. I love hearing how the life of a young girl will be 'over' if she doesn't get through. I love seeing the obligatory, patronising standing ovation after an American singer such as Beyoncé has appeared on the show at the beck and call of Simon Cowell. But why, if this show promotes its variety so much, is there so little deviation from the singers and dancers? Admittedly the dancing dog broke the monotony last night, but where are the acts that are usually everywhere in variety contests? Oh stand-up comedians from Bolton, step forth! Violin players from Fulham, assemble! There hasn't even been some kid with too much gel in his hair doing keepy-uppies, with little knowledge that this will never make him a professional footballer! If I see one more cutsie dance group full of teenage girls, I may just scream.
This is why I found myself getting so annoyed at the way the judges treated Kev Orkian, who oozed confidence with his Armenian piano player. This affable Londoner embodied what the show should be about, variety, humour and parody. Yet the judges slaughtered him, because they 'didn't get it'. You imagine that had he come out and sang in a mediocre fashion, in a similar way to doorman Neil, the judges would have been waxing lyrical. However, because Kev had the balls to try something different, to veer away from the usual staple diet of singers and dancers, he was consigned to the scrap heap. Because it's difficult to make money out of piano players in comparison to how Mr Cowell can rush out an album of Westlife covers from boyband 'Connected', Orkian was roundly criticised.
I can't stand dance acts. Even the best ones, like last year's winners Diversity, with their admittedly excellent choreography, bore me. I can't imagine how tedious their show must be, an hour of strange movements, like stick insects on speed. If ever I see someone at a party doing frankly ridiculous body-popping, I die a little inside. That's why I prefer ballroom dancing on shows such as Strictly Come Dancing, in my view a far more dignified show, instead of hearing the bunch of gibbons in the ITV audience screaming out the name of their favourite act.
So basically, Britain's Got Talent is a sham. For most of the time, it has as much variety as a Quality Street box at New Year, when only the horrible purple ones are left. This is why, for variety's sake, I will be voting for Chandi the dog on Saturday night. For a start, you won't hear ludicrous things such as 'I'll die if I don't win'...
Don't get me wrong, I find the show horribly entertaining. There's nothing I like more than a good freak show to warm the cockles and make me feel hugely satisfied with my life. I love hearing how the life of a young girl will be 'over' if she doesn't get through. I love seeing the obligatory, patronising standing ovation after an American singer such as Beyoncé has appeared on the show at the beck and call of Simon Cowell. But why, if this show promotes its variety so much, is there so little deviation from the singers and dancers? Admittedly the dancing dog broke the monotony last night, but where are the acts that are usually everywhere in variety contests? Oh stand-up comedians from Bolton, step forth! Violin players from Fulham, assemble! There hasn't even been some kid with too much gel in his hair doing keepy-uppies, with little knowledge that this will never make him a professional footballer! If I see one more cutsie dance group full of teenage girls, I may just scream.
This is why I found myself getting so annoyed at the way the judges treated Kev Orkian, who oozed confidence with his Armenian piano player. This affable Londoner embodied what the show should be about, variety, humour and parody. Yet the judges slaughtered him, because they 'didn't get it'. You imagine that had he come out and sang in a mediocre fashion, in a similar way to doorman Neil, the judges would have been waxing lyrical. However, because Kev had the balls to try something different, to veer away from the usual staple diet of singers and dancers, he was consigned to the scrap heap. Because it's difficult to make money out of piano players in comparison to how Mr Cowell can rush out an album of Westlife covers from boyband 'Connected', Orkian was roundly criticised.
I can't stand dance acts. Even the best ones, like last year's winners Diversity, with their admittedly excellent choreography, bore me. I can't imagine how tedious their show must be, an hour of strange movements, like stick insects on speed. If ever I see someone at a party doing frankly ridiculous body-popping, I die a little inside. That's why I prefer ballroom dancing on shows such as Strictly Come Dancing, in my view a far more dignified show, instead of hearing the bunch of gibbons in the ITV audience screaming out the name of their favourite act.
So basically, Britain's Got Talent is a sham. For most of the time, it has as much variety as a Quality Street box at New Year, when only the horrible purple ones are left. This is why, for variety's sake, I will be voting for Chandi the dog on Saturday night. For a start, you won't hear ludicrous things such as 'I'll die if I don't win'...
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Dreaming of a White Summer
Although the name of this blog could be interpreted as a potential title for Nick Griffin's autobiography, it is actually the hope that is rising up inside me with each passing day, the hope that England can finally reclaim the World Cup this summer. It seems I'm one of the few people in the country to actually believe, not simply hope, that we can do it. It might simply be a childish dream. I might just be kidding myself that we can win it, and this belief may just be borne out of desire, rather than any substance. But I hate going into any sporting occasion thinking my team won't win it, so I'm believing. I couldn't think of 25 points, like the NSDAP, or even 10, like David Gold and David Sullivan, so here are 4 points on why we can finally end 44 years of hurt.
We don't expect to.
In 2006, there was a nationwide feeling of jubilance before we'd even started. The FA had booked Trafalgar Square in expectation for the glorious homecoming, and we'd beaten the mighty footballing force of Jamaica 6-0. Then we realised that there were actually lots of teams far more organised than us, and it all collapsed around us. This time, nobody thinks we stand much of a chance. We've got the second oldest squad, and we're on the way down. There is an eery calm descending over England, rather than an overwhelming expectation that we usually experience before a World Cup. Perhaps we've finally learned our lesson, and had our fingers burned once too often. There's a feeling that for once, if we only keep our heads and not drive around with flags sticking out of our cars like some ugly rally, then some good might come of it. We've got to try something different, anyhow.
It'll be Winter
For once, it'll be hotter here than at the World Cup, so we can be spared the excrutiating excuses that we had in the Sahara Desert (sorry, Germany) about how it was too hot, and we 'wilted'. This time, it's the Brazilians turn to moan about how its too cold. Admittedly, I don't like the idea of the World Cup in Winter myself. It sounds like we won't be able to hear ourselves think, everyone's apparently not going to come back alive, and the cold's going to ruin everything. But again, the fact that there's something different about this World Cup surely can only work in our advantage? Perhaps we should give up playing in the World Cups that get played in normal places in normal climates, and only play the slightly quirky ones that we think might give us a hand. It's the 'do the opposite to what you'd expect' philosophy, as I like to call it.
The others aren't that impressive
When the other countries aren't bribing referees (sorry, Lord Triesman's words), they're not actually that impressive. The Dutch will play well in the group stages and bottle it, the Brazilians won't cope with the weather, and one of the Spanish backroom staff will probably commit an act of racism that causes them to fall apart. Which leaves the Germans, who I will now proceed to underestimate, and describe as 'too ordinary', because that always works, right?
We're crap
We were very good in 2006. We were good in 2002. Now we've got Leighton Baines as a reserve left-back, and most of our players are over-the-hill, no-one can ever describe us as anything more than ordinary. But then how many World Cup winning sides have been ordinary? Who tipped the Italians last time? Who tipped Greece in 2004? Who ever tips the Germans? So many excellent sides have been poor in World Cups, and so many seemingly poor sides have been excellent.
I'll be watching most of the World Cup in Germany or Poland, so I'll most likely never see any of the goals, or understand anything that's going on. I'll probably end up coming back from holiday thinking that England have won it. If I come back grinning like a fool with a flag of St George draped across my chest, while the rest of the country is in mourning, please don't awake me from my joyful slumber.
We don't expect to.
In 2006, there was a nationwide feeling of jubilance before we'd even started. The FA had booked Trafalgar Square in expectation for the glorious homecoming, and we'd beaten the mighty footballing force of Jamaica 6-0. Then we realised that there were actually lots of teams far more organised than us, and it all collapsed around us. This time, nobody thinks we stand much of a chance. We've got the second oldest squad, and we're on the way down. There is an eery calm descending over England, rather than an overwhelming expectation that we usually experience before a World Cup. Perhaps we've finally learned our lesson, and had our fingers burned once too often. There's a feeling that for once, if we only keep our heads and not drive around with flags sticking out of our cars like some ugly rally, then some good might come of it. We've got to try something different, anyhow.
It'll be Winter
For once, it'll be hotter here than at the World Cup, so we can be spared the excrutiating excuses that we had in the Sahara Desert (sorry, Germany) about how it was too hot, and we 'wilted'. This time, it's the Brazilians turn to moan about how its too cold. Admittedly, I don't like the idea of the World Cup in Winter myself. It sounds like we won't be able to hear ourselves think, everyone's apparently not going to come back alive, and the cold's going to ruin everything. But again, the fact that there's something different about this World Cup surely can only work in our advantage? Perhaps we should give up playing in the World Cups that get played in normal places in normal climates, and only play the slightly quirky ones that we think might give us a hand. It's the 'do the opposite to what you'd expect' philosophy, as I like to call it.
The others aren't that impressive
When the other countries aren't bribing referees (sorry, Lord Triesman's words), they're not actually that impressive. The Dutch will play well in the group stages and bottle it, the Brazilians won't cope with the weather, and one of the Spanish backroom staff will probably commit an act of racism that causes them to fall apart. Which leaves the Germans, who I will now proceed to underestimate, and describe as 'too ordinary', because that always works, right?
We're crap
We were very good in 2006. We were good in 2002. Now we've got Leighton Baines as a reserve left-back, and most of our players are over-the-hill, no-one can ever describe us as anything more than ordinary. But then how many World Cup winning sides have been ordinary? Who tipped the Italians last time? Who tipped Greece in 2004? Who ever tips the Germans? So many excellent sides have been poor in World Cups, and so many seemingly poor sides have been excellent.
I'll be watching most of the World Cup in Germany or Poland, so I'll most likely never see any of the goals, or understand anything that's going on. I'll probably end up coming back from holiday thinking that England have won it. If I come back grinning like a fool with a flag of St George draped across my chest, while the rest of the country is in mourning, please don't awake me from my joyful slumber.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Bradfordians Will Never Be Forgotten
Tuesday was the 25th anniversary of one of the worst days in football. For some, it has been swept under the carpet, overshadowed by perhaps more infamous disasters such as Hillsborough and Heysel. But for others, the pain of Saturday 11th May 1985 will never go away. It was the day when the culture of football began to change, and arguably, society.
At St Andrews, Birmingham were playing Leeds, and should have been celebrating promotion back to the First Division. However, a riot broke out, and a wall collapsed killing a fourteen year old boy. Even Leeds manager Eddie Gray was attacked on the pitch. This came only two months after Millwall fans tore up Luton's Kenilworth Road, revelling in their reputation, using seats as shields to fight police.
The riot at Birmingham was terrible enough for what was already a dreadful day, but it was nothing compared to what was happening at Bradford's Valley Parade. Halfway through a match (in which Bradford were also incidentally celebrating promotion) , a fire broke out, killing 56 people. The stand was engulfed in flames and black smoke, and the footage, captured by television cameras, is shocking. The disaster was followed by a comprehensive enquiry, in which Sir Oliver Popplewell banned the planned building of a wooden stand, and put the first steps in place for safe stadia as we now know it.
It is surprising that before Tuesday, I knew little of this shocking day in comparison to the events at Hillsborough, and I'm sure many young people like myself will feel the same. 1985 has to go down as the worst year in football. The riot at Birmingham was overshadowed by events at Valley Parade, and only weeks later, the infamous Heysel disaster occurred, inspiring yet more shocking scenes.
It should be noted that the Bradford disaster is unique from the other three, in the fact that it was not caused by hooligans. It makes me sick to hear journalists and other such people refer to these people as 'fans', as these people could not be further from the fans that are the lifeblood of every football club, and go to matches with the sole intention of supporting their club, and indulging in the love of their life. It also makes me sick to see films such as Green Street, which clearly glorify football violence. I refuse to even touch the book on the Birmingham City Zulus, as I believe it is wrong on principle to even stock these books, and how they have made it to press is beyond me. I feel saddened whenever I hear people comparing firms, and boasting about how they 'ran the police up the street'. It's pathetic. The only time I've ever witnessed anything close to a riot between two sets of football hooligans was at Stoke City, where I was genuinely scared and appalled, even though I was a safe distance away.
Of course, football is not the only sport marred by violence, as much as fans of other sports would like us to believe. Only a few weeks ago, two Worcester Warriors fans had to be separated after fighting broke out when the club's relegation was confirmed. It was later discovered that these grown men were two of the players' fathers.
Therefore I just hope that when these morons watch hooligan films, they remember the disasters of years gone by, and the pain and suffering it has caused to so many, even those not directly affected. Football doesn't need these idiots: it's coping fine without them.
At St Andrews, Birmingham were playing Leeds, and should have been celebrating promotion back to the First Division. However, a riot broke out, and a wall collapsed killing a fourteen year old boy. Even Leeds manager Eddie Gray was attacked on the pitch. This came only two months after Millwall fans tore up Luton's Kenilworth Road, revelling in their reputation, using seats as shields to fight police.
The riot at Birmingham was terrible enough for what was already a dreadful day, but it was nothing compared to what was happening at Bradford's Valley Parade. Halfway through a match (in which Bradford were also incidentally celebrating promotion) , a fire broke out, killing 56 people. The stand was engulfed in flames and black smoke, and the footage, captured by television cameras, is shocking. The disaster was followed by a comprehensive enquiry, in which Sir Oliver Popplewell banned the planned building of a wooden stand, and put the first steps in place for safe stadia as we now know it.
It is surprising that before Tuesday, I knew little of this shocking day in comparison to the events at Hillsborough, and I'm sure many young people like myself will feel the same. 1985 has to go down as the worst year in football. The riot at Birmingham was overshadowed by events at Valley Parade, and only weeks later, the infamous Heysel disaster occurred, inspiring yet more shocking scenes.
It should be noted that the Bradford disaster is unique from the other three, in the fact that it was not caused by hooligans. It makes me sick to hear journalists and other such people refer to these people as 'fans', as these people could not be further from the fans that are the lifeblood of every football club, and go to matches with the sole intention of supporting their club, and indulging in the love of their life. It also makes me sick to see films such as Green Street, which clearly glorify football violence. I refuse to even touch the book on the Birmingham City Zulus, as I believe it is wrong on principle to even stock these books, and how they have made it to press is beyond me. I feel saddened whenever I hear people comparing firms, and boasting about how they 'ran the police up the street'. It's pathetic. The only time I've ever witnessed anything close to a riot between two sets of football hooligans was at Stoke City, where I was genuinely scared and appalled, even though I was a safe distance away.
Of course, football is not the only sport marred by violence, as much as fans of other sports would like us to believe. Only a few weeks ago, two Worcester Warriors fans had to be separated after fighting broke out when the club's relegation was confirmed. It was later discovered that these grown men were two of the players' fathers.
Therefore I just hope that when these morons watch hooligan films, they remember the disasters of years gone by, and the pain and suffering it has caused to so many, even those not directly affected. Football doesn't need these idiots: it's coping fine without them.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
As it Stands- We're all Petrified
The time has come, ladies and gentlemen, for Sky Sports to wheel out their graphic in the right hand corner of the screen that will strike fear and hope in equal measures into the hearts of football fans everywhere. It is as much a part of the end-of-season ritual as fancy dress and montages of kids in facepaint crying their eyes out. Of course, it's the 'As it Stands' graphic, showing exactly where your team are, should the season finish right now, with no warning. Imagine that...
As Adrian Chiles once wrote in his brilliant book We don't know what we're doing, 'it's the hope that kills you'. In that case, Sky Sports has a lot to answer for. Is there anything that strikes false hope in you more than seeing your side out of the bottom three/in the promotion places with the vast majority of the game still to play? I first spotted the 'As it Stands' graphic this season last week, when watching Plymouth v Newcastle. It seems a bit strange to dust off the graphic in the middle of April. It's a little bit like defrosting Bruce Forsythe in June, ready for Strictly Come Dancing- it all seems a little bit pointless, when so much could still happen. Nevertheless, I felt the need to shout out 'AS IT STANDS!' at the top of my voice, possibly a mild form of Tourettes.
'As it Stands' season does produce some great moments, to give the little graphic his credit. He plays almost as big a role as Richard Keys does at Sky Sports around this time of the season, constantly jinking his way in and out of fear and hope. Crystal Palace and West Bromwich Albion saw only a minor role for the diminutive diagram, with only two goals, thus only two opportunities to show what he can do. But he'll be back on Sunday for sure, keen to show what an impact he can have on a season.
The game itself was fantastic. Any fears over West Bromwich Albion not trying were quickly put aside when Crystal Palace made rods for their own backs by riling the Albion players so much that they thought 'like Hell are you beating us'. It had the feeling of a play-off game about it, which in some senses, it was, with a Palace win guaranteeing survival. It ended 1-1, so AS IT STANDS, Palace need to avoid defeat on Sunday to stay up. The cameras caught a glimpse of a Palace fan sobbing his heart out at the finish (like you expected anything else from the masters of overstatement Sky Sports). My first thought was that he'd misunderstood the situation, thinking that Palace had already gone down. Surely this is where Sky Sports could do with an overhead projector to display 'As it Stands' on the pitch? Of course, it was the tension that caused the poor lad to cry his eyes out. The 'hope' that was killing him. We've all been there, supporters of Chelsea or Cheltenham, we all know the feeling. Sitting through double History going through the various permutations, using the Russian noblemen as Birmingham and the slavophiles as Reading, wondering whether the serfs (Crystal Palace) will roll over for the Tsarist ministers (Sheffield United). The teacher wasn't best pleased when I referred to Tsar Kevin Blackwell in my essay, but only football fans would understand.
'As it Stands' season causes so many bonds, breaks so many hearts. My sister stopped going to the football when in her previous two visits, Birmingham were relegated and missed out on promotion. Such is the power of the magical little graphic. If in doubt though, remember the words of The Shawshank Redemption:
Fear can hold you prisoner. Hope can set you free.
As Adrian Chiles once wrote in his brilliant book We don't know what we're doing, 'it's the hope that kills you'. In that case, Sky Sports has a lot to answer for. Is there anything that strikes false hope in you more than seeing your side out of the bottom three/in the promotion places with the vast majority of the game still to play? I first spotted the 'As it Stands' graphic this season last week, when watching Plymouth v Newcastle. It seems a bit strange to dust off the graphic in the middle of April. It's a little bit like defrosting Bruce Forsythe in June, ready for Strictly Come Dancing- it all seems a little bit pointless, when so much could still happen. Nevertheless, I felt the need to shout out 'AS IT STANDS!' at the top of my voice, possibly a mild form of Tourettes.
'As it Stands' season does produce some great moments, to give the little graphic his credit. He plays almost as big a role as Richard Keys does at Sky Sports around this time of the season, constantly jinking his way in and out of fear and hope. Crystal Palace and West Bromwich Albion saw only a minor role for the diminutive diagram, with only two goals, thus only two opportunities to show what he can do. But he'll be back on Sunday for sure, keen to show what an impact he can have on a season.
The game itself was fantastic. Any fears over West Bromwich Albion not trying were quickly put aside when Crystal Palace made rods for their own backs by riling the Albion players so much that they thought 'like Hell are you beating us'. It had the feeling of a play-off game about it, which in some senses, it was, with a Palace win guaranteeing survival. It ended 1-1, so AS IT STANDS, Palace need to avoid defeat on Sunday to stay up. The cameras caught a glimpse of a Palace fan sobbing his heart out at the finish (like you expected anything else from the masters of overstatement Sky Sports). My first thought was that he'd misunderstood the situation, thinking that Palace had already gone down. Surely this is where Sky Sports could do with an overhead projector to display 'As it Stands' on the pitch? Of course, it was the tension that caused the poor lad to cry his eyes out. The 'hope' that was killing him. We've all been there, supporters of Chelsea or Cheltenham, we all know the feeling. Sitting through double History going through the various permutations, using the Russian noblemen as Birmingham and the slavophiles as Reading, wondering whether the serfs (Crystal Palace) will roll over for the Tsarist ministers (Sheffield United). The teacher wasn't best pleased when I referred to Tsar Kevin Blackwell in my essay, but only football fans would understand.
'As it Stands' season causes so many bonds, breaks so many hearts. My sister stopped going to the football when in her previous two visits, Birmingham were relegated and missed out on promotion. Such is the power of the magical little graphic. If in doubt though, remember the words of The Shawshank Redemption:
Fear can hold you prisoner. Hope can set you free.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Midlands Meltdown
Whatever happens this Sunday, when Aston Villa and Birmingham meet, there will be four West Midlands teams in the Premier League next season, which will be music to the ears of Birmingham City fans, who are still haunted by the 5-1 humiliation in 2008 which all but relegated the Blues for the second time in three years. Not that this is anything new, you understand. It is normally about this time of year when Midlanders are fretting over West Brom's and Birmingham's survival chances, and bemoaning Wolves' inability to win promotion. Although many Baggies and Wolves fans would prefer to have three rather than four clubs in the top flight next season, I'm immensely excited and proud to be a supporter of a Midlands side at the moment.
For too long, the national media has been far too frantic over London and Northern clubs, and to a degree, quite rightly. Midlands sides have been poor for the last 25 years, with the last time the 'West Midlands Big 4' met up in the top division coming in 1984. However, at times, Midlands sides have understandably become exasperated with pundits. For example, Mark Lawrenson has been adamant that Birmingham have played 4-5-1 throughout the season, which is totally wrong. Wolves fans have been forever sending letters to the BBC questioning the lack of highlights on Match of the Day regarding their team. Admittedly, Hagley-based Adrian Chiles has redressed the balance to an extent, but even with his imminent departure, West Midlands teams look like they will finally be able to stand on their own two feet.
Aston Villa have, despite murmurings of discontent from B6, had a good season, reaching Wembley twice and sustaining their Champions League challenge far longer than before. It looks like they will fall short thanks to the superior spending power of Tottenham and Manchester City, but this season has to represent an improvement on the days of 'Deadly' Doug Ellis and David 'Dreary' O'Leary, when Villa finished in lower mid-table. O'Neill, thanks to his enthusiasm and passion, has attracted many admirers, and Villa's close-season will likely resemble plate-spinning: on the one hand attempting to improve the squad to enrich their Champions League aspirations; on the other keeping hold of O'Neill and the player of the season James Milner.
Over in B9, Birmingham City must be one of the success stories of the Premier League campaign. I, along with other Blues fans, would not have been devastated had McLeish jumped ship after gaining promotion, such was the lack of quality football in the Championship. However, he has proved us all wrong, and his qualities as a man have impressed many, namely his reluctance to criticise referees, and his refusal to lie down, a trait mirrored by his side. For a side only just promoted on the last day, the achievement of not losing at home to the top six is very impressive, and when comparing the achievement of Blues to the relative anonymity of Sheffield United, whom Blues pipped to promotion, you can see the fine lines between success and failure. The only serious black mark which will not go away easily is the surrender to Portsmouth in the FA Cup, when a Wembley appearance was beckoning. The falling away in the second half of the season has emphasised the frailty of the squad, and McLeish must beware second season syndrome.
For too long, the national media has been far too frantic over London and Northern clubs, and to a degree, quite rightly. Midlands sides have been poor for the last 25 years, with the last time the 'West Midlands Big 4' met up in the top division coming in 1984. However, at times, Midlands sides have understandably become exasperated with pundits. For example, Mark Lawrenson has been adamant that Birmingham have played 4-5-1 throughout the season, which is totally wrong. Wolves fans have been forever sending letters to the BBC questioning the lack of highlights on Match of the Day regarding their team. Admittedly, Hagley-based Adrian Chiles has redressed the balance to an extent, but even with his imminent departure, West Midlands teams look like they will finally be able to stand on their own two feet.
Aston Villa have, despite murmurings of discontent from B6, had a good season, reaching Wembley twice and sustaining their Champions League challenge far longer than before. It looks like they will fall short thanks to the superior spending power of Tottenham and Manchester City, but this season has to represent an improvement on the days of 'Deadly' Doug Ellis and David 'Dreary' O'Leary, when Villa finished in lower mid-table. O'Neill, thanks to his enthusiasm and passion, has attracted many admirers, and Villa's close-season will likely resemble plate-spinning: on the one hand attempting to improve the squad to enrich their Champions League aspirations; on the other keeping hold of O'Neill and the player of the season James Milner.
Over in B9, Birmingham City must be one of the success stories of the Premier League campaign. I, along with other Blues fans, would not have been devastated had McLeish jumped ship after gaining promotion, such was the lack of quality football in the Championship. However, he has proved us all wrong, and his qualities as a man have impressed many, namely his reluctance to criticise referees, and his refusal to lie down, a trait mirrored by his side. For a side only just promoted on the last day, the achievement of not losing at home to the top six is very impressive, and when comparing the achievement of Blues to the relative anonymity of Sheffield United, whom Blues pipped to promotion, you can see the fine lines between success and failure. The only serious black mark which will not go away easily is the surrender to Portsmouth in the FA Cup, when a Wembley appearance was beckoning. The falling away in the second half of the season has emphasised the frailty of the squad, and McLeish must beware second season syndrome.
I doubt many people envisaged Wolves being safe so early. Their surrender of the lead to Birmingham was worrying, and many Wolves fans filled the phone-ins with calls for McCarthy to be sacked. His record in the Premier League before this season was questionable, if not laughable, however his never-say-die attitude which has transmitted towards his players has earned him many supporters, and it looks like McCarthy will finally get a crack at establishing himself as a Premier League manager. All this, from an outsider's point of view, seems to be down to the two players who I would place in any midtable team in the league: Kevin Doyle, and Karl Henry. The impact of Doyle has been well documented, but tenacity is the name of the game for staying in the Premier League, and Henry has this in abundance. He was one of the view players not to meekly surrender at St Andrews this season, and Wolves fans will be indebted to this pair. So it looks like Mick McCarthy, despite his odd voice and similarity to the Professional Yorkshiremen sketch from Monty Python ('ball? You had to kick a rock when I were a lad') will be locking horns with Mcleish and O'Neill again next season.
Speaking of strange voices, West Brom have coped extremely well with the departure of Tony Mowbray, who possessed the most annoying voice in football. Ever. A few Albion fans raised eyebrows when Roberto di Matteo was appointing, but his footballing style (one of the few things the suave Italian must have in common with the North East's Mowbray) has transferred well to the players, and have gained promotion at a canter. But will things be different this time? For so long, Albion have gone straight back down without a fight, and Jeremy Peace, the Albion chairman, surely has a duty to the fans to put his hand in his pocket. However, he has already said that di Matteo will have to be shrewd, so it looks as if Albion may be set for yet another immediate return to the Championship.
Next season should be a cracking year for sides in the West Midlands. We'll have the friendly derby (Albion v Blues), the historical derby (Albion v Villa) and of course the hatred derbies (Blues v Villa/Albion v Wolves) along with many others. For Blues, Albion and Wolves at least, the team that picks up the most points in these matches could be the side to stay up, with the least successful side going down.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Armageddon Outta Here
I used to quite like West Ham. There's always been a razzmatazz about them, something which makes them quite cool to support, not like if you support Grimsby, or Preston, or even, let's face it, Birmingham City. All the cool celebrities support them, people like Ray Winstone, Russell Brand, all the impish Cockerney fashionable types, yet they still retain an aura of hard-up Londoners battling against the odds. I could even look past the fact that they play in claret and blue to have a soft spot for them. And of course, in case you didn't know, they won us the World Cup. However, ever since a couple of months ago, all this admiration for them has disappeared. Like the rest of the country, it seems, I've developed an intense dislike for the new West Ham owners, pornography entrepreneurs David Sullivan and David Gold. The difference between Birmingham City fans and the rest of the country is that we've had good practice at hating them.
In 1993, Gold and Sullivan rocked up at Birmingham City, with the club in dire financial trouble, and the team going nowhere. They introduced the 'kids for a quid' scheme to get the fans back to St Andrews, they made the club absolutely debt-free, and had an admirable record with keeping faith with managers. How do I know all this, and how can I trot this information off without even looking it up? Because they reminded Birmingham fans of this every single day, and threw this information at us after the relationship between the fans and the board soured. To my mind, this happened in 2005. Gold, always the 'good cop' in the relationship, told us that 'Birmingham fans would sit back and go 'wow'' at the players on show, namely Jesper Gronkjaer, Emile Heskey and Muzzy Izzet, amongst others. We didn't. The club went backwards, and managing director of the club Karren Brady went from having a waiting-list for season tickets to struggling to fill the ground. In any other profession, Brady would've surely been sacked. In 2007, Sullivan declared he wanted to sell his stake, citing that Blues fans had totally unrealistic expectations of them, and in 2009, finally handed over the keys to Carson Yeung.
Now that the background has been described, you can imagine the knowing looks exchanged between Birmingham fans when Gold and Sullivan rolled into Upton Park, spouting the same promises to unsuspecting Hammers fans. Ironically, West Ham's first victory under the new owners was against Birmingham, but now that the Hammers are still in danger of relegation, the prone to hyperbole Sullivan has claimed that it will be 'Armageddon' if the team went down to the Championship. I'm not entirely sure what he means by 'Armageddon'. Presumably, a comet will hit Upton Park, the players will spontaneously combust, East London will become a wasteland occupied by no-one, and West Ham will have to play Norwich on a Tuesday night. Thankfully, the national media has finally cottoned on to their ways, and has realised it wasn't just a bunch of 'whingeing Brummies' moaning about the poor management of the club, but instead frustration caused by years of false promises and not delivering.
All this has been capped off by their treatment of Gianfranco Zola, a man so small and delicate you just want to wrap him in a blanket and tell him everything will be OK. Backstabbing and using the media as a tool to get one over on someone is not a new device by Sullivan in particular, but his open letter after the 3-1 defeat to Wolves totally undermined Zola, and it's a credit to the Italian that he hasn't reacted worse than he did.
I have nothing against the West Ham fans, and I like the sound of 'I'm forever blowing bubbles' and Frank McAvennie as much as the next man. However, for me, I'd love to see a triumph of Hull over West Ham, of East Yorkshire grit against East London chic when it comes to the relegation battle. Sullivan and Gold, if they can drag themselves away from their open letters to the fans and their countless media appearances, will have to deal with the rubble of 'Armageddon' without the help and sympathy of many football fans. The fans deserve better.
In 1993, Gold and Sullivan rocked up at Birmingham City, with the club in dire financial trouble, and the team going nowhere. They introduced the 'kids for a quid' scheme to get the fans back to St Andrews, they made the club absolutely debt-free, and had an admirable record with keeping faith with managers. How do I know all this, and how can I trot this information off without even looking it up? Because they reminded Birmingham fans of this every single day, and threw this information at us after the relationship between the fans and the board soured. To my mind, this happened in 2005. Gold, always the 'good cop' in the relationship, told us that 'Birmingham fans would sit back and go 'wow'' at the players on show, namely Jesper Gronkjaer, Emile Heskey and Muzzy Izzet, amongst others. We didn't. The club went backwards, and managing director of the club Karren Brady went from having a waiting-list for season tickets to struggling to fill the ground. In any other profession, Brady would've surely been sacked. In 2007, Sullivan declared he wanted to sell his stake, citing that Blues fans had totally unrealistic expectations of them, and in 2009, finally handed over the keys to Carson Yeung.
Now that the background has been described, you can imagine the knowing looks exchanged between Birmingham fans when Gold and Sullivan rolled into Upton Park, spouting the same promises to unsuspecting Hammers fans. Ironically, West Ham's first victory under the new owners was against Birmingham, but now that the Hammers are still in danger of relegation, the prone to hyperbole Sullivan has claimed that it will be 'Armageddon' if the team went down to the Championship. I'm not entirely sure what he means by 'Armageddon'. Presumably, a comet will hit Upton Park, the players will spontaneously combust, East London will become a wasteland occupied by no-one, and West Ham will have to play Norwich on a Tuesday night. Thankfully, the national media has finally cottoned on to their ways, and has realised it wasn't just a bunch of 'whingeing Brummies' moaning about the poor management of the club, but instead frustration caused by years of false promises and not delivering.
All this has been capped off by their treatment of Gianfranco Zola, a man so small and delicate you just want to wrap him in a blanket and tell him everything will be OK. Backstabbing and using the media as a tool to get one over on someone is not a new device by Sullivan in particular, but his open letter after the 3-1 defeat to Wolves totally undermined Zola, and it's a credit to the Italian that he hasn't reacted worse than he did.
I have nothing against the West Ham fans, and I like the sound of 'I'm forever blowing bubbles' and Frank McAvennie as much as the next man. However, for me, I'd love to see a triumph of Hull over West Ham, of East Yorkshire grit against East London chic when it comes to the relegation battle. Sullivan and Gold, if they can drag themselves away from their open letters to the fans and their countless media appearances, will have to deal with the rubble of 'Armageddon' without the help and sympathy of many football fans. The fans deserve better.
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