Fergie's Grudge - Why he keeps trying to nick our best players

There's a bit of noise about the place regarding Luka Modric as a potential transfer target for 'Yoonited.' Most of us can laugh this off as a bit of slow news day, pre-World Cup nonsense, but then we've been here before haven't we? Harry's been swift to nip it in the bud this time, although there are some that can't help asking why he would bother making a statement on something that is supposedly untrue. I guess the only way to kill the story is to get the chequebook and the specially engraved contract-signing pen and give the boy a bit of a raise. Just ask Gareth Bale.
 
But why is it always Fergie that comes batting his eyelids at our prize assets every year? Sheringham, Berbatov and Carrick succumbed to his wily charm just as we were starting to build a team around them, and we were a much weaker side for it. Yes the lure of playing for the self-appointed 'greatest team in the world' must be quite exciting for any professional. As is the chance to clock up a few medals to show the grandkids. But you rarely hear of Chelsea or Liverpool doing the same. At least with not such brazen consistency.
 
Well I think I've found the answer. Today I was ambling through youtube electronically jizzing my pants at various video compilations of our most recent season when I came across (figuratively, not electronically) an interview with 'Ol Red Nose talking about the talented Mr. Gascoigne. Besides being quite an interesting interview, if you watch to the end you might finally understand why Surralex is hell-bent on signing any decent player we manage to get hold of.

What a sad, bitter old man he is.

by guest-blogger Fox Mulder

Dream the impossible dream

by guest-blogger Tricky

Let me tell you about pain, you all know pain right? You remember how it felt when you first truly hurt yourself.

You fell out of that tree / off your bike / off the climbing frame, and that split second between the event occurring and your reaction to the incident, that nano-second of a moment, when the white hot explosion sent every sensor in your body sparking, as the electrons quickened to the receptors in your brain.

That fleeting moment when all around you could cease to exist, because all that matters is not what has happened but what is about to happen. That was pain, your first most pure experience of something that would re-visit you in years to come.

And then we grow older and wiser (in some cases) and the world teaches us that pain is relative, it has different degrees and dimensions and it differs between people, because it becomes relative to our most painful experience.

I now consider myself fortunate to have, once in my life, been in so much pain that the receptors have overloaded and unconsciousness has shut me down, because anything less than what I felt that day, with the claret and the exposed bone, is a bonus. And a lot of us have been there, and to different degrees we have each had our own moment.

And then there is emotional pain, compounded by anticipation, nervousness, rejection, denial. It is in its own way the complete and absolute opposite of happiness and the antithesis of joy. And this different type of anguish, it hurts less in the short term, if truth be told, but nonetheless it exists and it is cold and unforgiving and it plays with our thoughts in a way that physical pain never can.

Twisting our thoughts back to those moments when the world once again ceased to have any bearing on the ‘here and now’, replaying those moments in our head when we have to face the world and all that it can do to us. It makes us cynical unbelievers that any good that might have happened in the past or indeed might ever happen again.

I remember well the day of 7^th May 2006, not for the game, but for the pain. I was in a bar in Ibiza, with a few fans of other ‘well supported clubs’. Watching the goon fan’s pre-match nerves falling away like some shadowy veil, whilst my dehydration/ sleep deprivation combo provided only a prelude as to what unravelled that day. I still remember it well, though I don’t want to, I can remember every single heart beat and bead of sweat that could be lived during one game, just one game, which occurred thousands of miles away from where I was on that one day.

 And even though I was not there in body, my spirit was crushed, I wished I didn’t care. But deep down I knew the reason for the pain was because I did care, and that nothing anyone would say to me would explain the injustice of it all.

And so now to today's game, which occupies my thoughts every three seconds. And part of me still will not dare yet believe that it could happen, because I remember the pain all too much and relive the hurt now more than ever before.

99% of me doesn’t want the game to happen because I don’t want to feel that pain once more, that 99%of every sinew and receptor does not want another moment to have to re-live.

And yet that 1% won’t give up, it makes my heart beat with every syllable of every battle cry, it stops my breathe with every moment of expectation, it makes me want to shout in an involuntary way, because I know that to be able to live with pain, is to be able to enjoy the pleasure of those once in a lifetime moments.

I know that we will end up where we deserve, on merit, and nothing else. But nothing can stop us dreaming, even the most cynical of us, those whom have known pain, and have sat around that metaphorical poker table, have looked it in the eye and say ‘I’ll take your pain, and raise you elation’, and we know that sometimes it’s a gamble worth taking.

The battle cry’s are all Spooky’s, but know that I will be with you all in spirit, believing that we can do this, in the knowledge and understanding that we may yet have to endure this moment all over again on Sunday, and I am with you not because I chose to, but because I have to. I can’t allow that 99% to stop me from living the possibility of pleasure.

And for those lucky enough to go to the game, know this; that we are all with you, you represent our hopes and dreams on this night, with our hearts collectively beating like warriors, faced with that moment of calm before the battle commences. That audible and visible beat ringing in our ears and thumping our chest, like the drum beat of an army marching forwards into the unknown.

And all we ask of you there on that night, is that you make us proud and ‘dream that impossible dream’.

COYS.

GUDJOHNSEN IN CHELSEA CELEBRATION SHOCKER

By A. Gooner. The Daily Stank - 4th May 2010
 
Tottenham Hotspur fans around the country were today left 'reeling' after astonishing pictures emerged of Icelandic loan striker Eidur Gudjohnsen celebrating Chelsea's win against Liverpool with Frank Lampard and other Blues stars.

The images, absolutely certain to anger boss Harry Redknapp, show the former Chelsea player taking part in a number of damning activities including:
 

• Talking to Chelsea players in the bar
• Smiling as they recounted old title winning times together
• Guzzling a glass of Diet Coke with lemon
• Scoffing expensive bar snacks

 
One on-looker said, "I was just sitting in the bar innocently calling Frank Lampard a fat **** when I saw Eidur join the party. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw him with former friends congratulating them on their victory. These Premier League footballers really have no sense of shame. I took a picture on my phone to show my wife after she came out of the toilets with John Terry."
 
At one stage the party got rowdy as the players started playing their favourite drinking game: "Guess the former Chelsea player" where each person takes it in turn to do an impression of one of their old team mates. Eidur's skit of notorious coke fiend Mark Bosnich (pictured) was particularly popular.
 
Rabbi David Schmutter, chairman of the Tottenham Hotspur Popular Front said, "Oi vay! Why is he spending time with Chelsea players when he could be hanging out with fun-loving Spurs players like Benoit Assou-Ekotto."
 
The story is nailed-on-I-kid-thee-not bound to disrupt Spurs' preparations ahead of their massive game on Wednesday night against Manchester Arab Emirates.

(At least we hope it will)

by guest-blogger Fox Mulder.

Living with the Enemy (and Bruce Springsteen)

by guest-blogger Tricky

The thing about North Londoners is that there are two sides to the extended ‘family’, the ‘forces of good’ and those from the ‘forces of evil’.

There are many amongst us who have families with representatives from both sides. Call it a ‘quirk of genetics’, ‘rebellion against the good’, ‘the black sheep of the family’ or just plain ‘getting it so horribly wrong’. There are those for whom ‘never red’ derives more literary connotations than anything else.

I have bona fide relatives who come from both sides of the track, and so for many years have learnt how to deal with conversing with the ‘forces of evil’. Additionally, work, and life in general, has also has led to my meeting many more ‘gooners’, some of who appear on the surface to be thoroughly decent chaps, and dare I say it, some I even get on well with and like as people outside of football.

But all that means nothing at least twice a year when the finely honed the ability to deal with them in a manner that allows, at the very least, moral higher ground rears its head. When ‘bragging rights’ and other such choice phrases start being banded about by the media hacks in a pre-emptive stylee.

The thing is, with all the arguments and counters from both sides that our aspirations would have us join them (or preferably replace them) at the top of the footballing elite in the seemingly mythical ‘top4’, the ephemeral ‘goose that laid the golden football’.

But a word of caution, perhaps we should be careful what we wish for, as we all wish to see success at our beloved WHL, but at what price?

The thing that I have learnt the most from decades of banter is that both sides see their frailties, but it is only the white side that are sufficiently open enough to acknowledge it to others. The red side are more blissful in their belligerence and denial.

And to be fair, it’s not their fault that they have believed every press statement from their club, and more specifically their manager.

And it’s not their fault that the timing of the stadium rebuild and the costs were to go silk glove in sweaty hand with the deepest recession for many decades, and so it’s understandable that the squad are not the ‘tour de force’ they used to be 5 years ago. And Ok they never really replaced Patrick Vieira, mostly due to financial constraints and this ‘grand plan’.

And so what if their stadium has hampered their ability to compete with players wages and transfer fees with the real top clubs in the last few years, and who cares if all it has done is attracted plastic fans who are no more loyal to the Brand of ‘Goon FC’ than they are to ‘Ted Baker’. And so what If the atmosphere at the library was non-existent, then the Effeminates has more ‘corporate ’ who arrive just in time for their amuse bouches and entrees rather than to join in with the singing a song of support for their boys in red (and I use the term ‘boys’ quite deliberately here’).

And let’s be honest, when it comes to what the usual noise levels are like, please don’t ask a spurs fan (after all he’ll more than likely be biased) just ask ‘The Boss’ himself, who had to introduce additional soundproofing to put a gig on at the effeminates. Clearly noise pollution hasn’t been a problem before now.

                              The Boss: What do you mean I’m too noisy for you?

But it is worth noting that not all goon fans are that trusting of the powers that be, in the main they bitch amongst themselves, with the fans sitting it one of two camps, the ‘AKB’ or (‘Arsene knows best’) and ‘the real world’.

Spotting an AKB is quite easy, usually you can approach them from the side as the blinkers will prevent them from seeing anything that isn’t presented to them.

In fact approaching them from straight ahead is also easy if they will be sporting the latest pair of 'deludavision Dennis Bergkamp 2010 edition denial sensitive sunglasses'. 

Please bear in mind that an AKB will also not see the most obvious flaw in their manager, his deliberately obtuse and condescending attitude which keeps coming back to slap him in the face. Or at least it would if any hack has the balls to point out that he is a living breathing contradiction at times.

This can be most exemplified by his persistent whinging, take the it’s not fair we have to play against a team who has had a break midweek, when other (top4) teams are all playing someone who have played a midweek game earlier this season.

Do we now see Fergie and Ancellotti moaning about how unfair the schedule is as the goons now have to play a team that will be tired from an FA Cup semi only three days before? Do we hear it yet? No? Why not? Because it’s all part of the game, and playing fixtures over the course of a season you whinging pasty faced turd.

The main issue the goon fans seem to have is this; they cannot see that their greatest strength (their manager) is in fact also their Achilles Heel.

Each manager has his limitations and the fact is that Whinger over the years has turned into his own parody, an AKB will not only not see this (ironic, huh?) but will refuse to accept it even from a non-AKB goon supporter trying to make sure that not all of his fellow fans appear to be the sort of pizza faced belligerent window licker who tragically is probably now eligible to vote. This two-facedness by their manager has been shown on many an occasion.

(It is perhaps both ironic and unfortunate that in their collective failing they have shown that Spurs fans greatest asset is their ability to see, and point out on a regular basis, the problems of successive managers, without considering the value of ‘stability’).

This of course does not mean that those Goons who sit in ‘the real world’ aren’t in denial about their teams failings, far from it. Rose-tintedness can exhibit itself at any time during any given conversation.

The “We’re not a team of divers” debate for example – one of my favourites, and perhaps even more so, given the aforementioned propensity for generally contradictory statements by their Alzheimer riddled manager. When in 2006 Whinger suggested that players who dived should be banned little did he know that only three years later when playing Celtic, a certain Mr Eduardo would perform a dive that not only was blatant but registered 5.9’s from three European judges clinching him the bronze medal position. Subsequently he would describe the banning of one of his players who blatantly dived as a ‘witch hunt’.

Still, it has been said before and probably not for the last time, 'life’s not without its sense of irony sometimes’, the potential for rhyming slang with his choice of words alone is worth noting.

And so to round up this rambling there are a few more points worth remembering, should they be raised in some banter in the next 24 hours:

• The 2005 cup final, goons undeserved victors by playing 120 minutes of anti-football
• Theo Walcott / Wingnutt / Walnutt – he is to the goons what Jenas is to our team
• Whinger = Wengker = Myopic cheese eating surrender monkey
• Theirry Henry – works on a number of levels especially when in an Irish pub
• The fact that the ‘kids’ in the ‘cup team’ is now the biggest fallacy in the EPL today. Unfortunately a myth still perpetuated by the media, who have conveniently failed to notice that it is not what it was over 5 years ago when they were winning other stuff, it has now graduated into being ‘kids blended with experience’ or some other crass title that basically means ‘1^st team with a few rested and a couple of youth team members thrown in’ or more than likely ‘a balance of 1^st team starting and second choice members’  
• 5-1 in the Carling Cup; Fabianski, Sagna, Justin Hoyte, Gallas, Traore (Eduardo 65), Hleb, Denilson (Fabregas 18), Silva, Diaby, Walcott (Adebayor 65), Bendtner. Bet you don’t recognise any of their ‘yoof’ from that day a couple of years back, see above
• Carling Cup winners 2008, more recent silverware of note: FACT. (and if they say ‘its not real cup’, ask them if they would be saying cup double had they actually won both domestic cup, or would they just call themselves FA Cup winners, or maybe that doesn’t count either in their weird world)

            When is a cup not a cup? When it’s a domestic cup (according to some that is)

You see the single thing that IS entirely their own fault, is in believing the hype (something of course that we could never be accused of, clearly). After all to have the bitterness of defeat and disappointment you have to have tasted victory.

And when not winning anything, but financial stability is the end goal of the club, as I said earlier, 'perhaps we should all be careful what we wish for', as hollows victories are exactly that.

I shall leave all 'battle cries' to spooky, safe in the knowledge that sooner or later our time, as inevitably one day it will, will come. Maybe not this year, maybe not in my lifetime, but everything goes in cycles, sooner or later.

After all, that's why we have kids. Isn't it?

What the Dicken’s? (A guide to Pompey)

by guest-blogger Tricky

Ok, so by now some of you know that I do not reside in north London, in fact my parents moved when I was a nipper to the sunny south coast. Subsequently, having moved and lived in different places along the coast, I am perhaps adequately placed to fill you in on the Pompey fans and what they have to live with which makes them, well, the way they are really.

The first thing to note is that they are faithful and local, faithful to the point of sectioning (I don’t think we need to mention any names or put any pictures up of anyone, but we all know who I mean. You know the one I mean, legend to the locals, the one with the bell, a sort of cross between a school teacher, the mad hatter and Cher) and local because there has to be a damned good reason for following a team that’s about as popular as a Geiger counter at a Sushi Bar in West London.

To be fair I find this aspect of their fan base to be properly admired, in a day and age when kids support the SKY4 across the land for the brand they hold, Pompey is at least a club of passionate and loyal fans, misguided of course, but very much a ‘local club for local people’.

 

                     You're welcome to come and visit, as long as you're one of us 

As an aside, I would also like to say at this point that every Spurs fan should have a mate who’s a Pompey fan. I have many (perhaps more than will be strictly healthy over the weekend) and there is always one who immediately springs to mind whenever asked what Pompey fans are like. This one in particular is a ‘god’ in my eyes, and when I say ‘god’ I mean ‘idiot’.

He is someone I can always look at in relation to my own messed up world and think ‘no matter how bad things are, I could have been born like him’. To be fair he's a decent honest sort of bloke, low ranking navy type, deckhand basically (although it does make me worry about how safe our country is exactly given that we’re an island, fortunately for us GB PLC is pretty much worthless before you worry too much).

Anyway, to know him is to love him, and to love him is to pity him, he is a ‘true blue’ through and through. An innocent, pure and stupid, would believe anything you said (say for example ‘your new billionaire owner is putting £200 million into the squad this year’) – now who doesn’t want a friend like that, I ask you, he’s like a loveable puppy that you can kick a few times and he’ll still come up to you with that glazed look in his eye and his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

In footballing terms, they have also recently been one of the ‘holding bays’ for players for / from north London, in case you’re wondering how closely we’ve been linked to them in the past consider this recent list of transfers between the clubs:

Noe Pamerot, Pedro Mendes, Wayne Routledge, Sean Davies, Michael Brown, Keving Prince Boateng, Younes Kaboul (twice),  Jermain Defoe (twice), Jamie O’Hara, Niko Krancjar and Peter Crouch (and I’m chosing to ignore those from the dark side for now).

Oh, and there is of course the minor matter of our acquisition of their previously much marmited manager. Subject of derision and admiration in a manner not unequal to our own supporters.

So you see, our lives and in some cases teams are interlinked, they aren’t really a team to dislike per se, ok they can appear a little bit bitter, but you can understand that as they’ve become victims of chairmen who were chasing money based on the ‘I’ll pay you tomorrow’ principal. The fans have paid dearly for the ineptitude and poor fiscal management by those in charge. It’s almost enough to make you feel for them, but then they were happy enough in the fizzy pop league before and they will be again.

And so to add to your knowledge and perhaps a few facts about Portsmouth, the surrounding areas and the local people / customs which may help you in some of the ‘eloquent and enlightened banter’ that no doubt some of you may become engaged in over the weekend please bear in mind the following:

• Paulsgrove is one of the many delightful ‘estates’ in the surrounding area that became famous for hounding a ‘paediatrician’ out of his home (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/6540497.stm).
• Leigh Park, another delightful nearby local estate, appeared in the 'top 10 chav places’ on chavtowns.co.uk in 2005, (Cosham also appears quite high up on the list)
• DO NOT inadvertently upset a Pompey fan accidentally by refering to him as a ‘saints fan’, should you do so to find that he objects, on no account suggest that both cities are pretty much interchangeable.
• Gosport is a poor man’s Pompey, only people from Gosport will deny this.
• Gunwharf Quays is a great place to visit if you want to buy all that Fred Perry and Ralph Lauren stuff that they could sell at full price in their ‘proper shops’. There is also, somewhat surprisingly a Burberry outlet there as well. Go figure.
• Technically Portsmouth is an island, meaning that it can at any point in time be cut off from access by building a large wall to the north of the island. I’m just putting it out there.
• Portsmouth people hate Southampton people due to a docker’s strike in the 1950’s, in fact the term ‘scum’ or ‘scummers’ used by Pompey fans stems from the ‘South Coast Union Men of Southampton’ who crossed picket lines. Since the 1950’s 5/6 generations (depending on which area of either city you’re in) on each side have passed and the hatred is still there, though no-one is really sure if the original reason is relevant anymore. It’s now simply written into birth certificates that each will hate the other.
• The loving term that Southampton fans have for Pompey fans is ‘skates’, (think of fishermen / sailors at sea for a long time and you’ll work it out).
• The fact that ‘Fratton Park’ backwards is ‘Krap Nott Arf’ is purely coincidental.
• Oh yeah, and literary great Charles Dickens was born in Pompey, the irony of their current plight and it’s comparative to any number of his works of literature will be lost on many, this is an avenue best avoided with a great many Pompey fans, they haven’t read, anything, ever.

So there we have it then, a quick guide to Pompey fans 'The Dickensian Bunch' a mixture of Great Expectations, Hard Times and Bleak House.

They’re quite an eclectic mix, not unlike our good selves in some regards, but perhaps more like a mongrel offshoot of the family. Not really ‘one of your own’, but one of those relatives that seem a bit feral, the sort you can throw it a few bones every now and then and they’ll survive quite happily like the doe-eyed poor misguided trusting fools that they are.

As for the game itself, I don’t expect much, a win of course, and hopefully a comfortable one (if the league game is anything to go by). But goddamn it if this isn’t just tinged with the air of 'one of those FA Cup’ games that history is riddled with.

So enjoy the game one and all, or as they sign off in Pompey:  ‘Bob’s your uncle, and your dad’.

 

                                                     Bob's your Bob

Casualty

By guest-blogger Fox Mulder.

The corridor doors fly open and a young man is wheeled at speed towards surgery. The bed comes to a rest in a room where a medical team is sitting at a screen.

NURSE: Doctor, this man is seriously injured. He’s suffered lacerations to both his legs, severing a main artery. He has severe concussion and has lost all feeling in his limbs....

DOCTOR ONE: No put Messi at right midfield and get him to cut inside with his runs.

NURSE: His blood pressure has dropped to dangerously low levels and seems to have suffered an asthma attack. He’s conscious but barely. He needs immediate surgery.

DOCTOR TWO: But I played him up front in the last game and he got a hat-trick against Real in the cup. I think I should move Iniesta out there instead.

NURSE: Doctor’s PLEASE this man is going to die unless you do something now.

DOCTOR ONE: Oh for Christ’s sake. Ok let’s have a look at him then.

Both doctors saunter over to the dying man, blood is oozing through the sheets that cover him.

DOCTOR ONE: Hmmmm doesn’t look too serious to me. Nurse get some plasters on that wound on his leg and run a wet sponge over his head. That should cure the concussion, which to be honest I think he’s making a meal out of.

DOCTOR TWO: Yes yes this really is a big fuss over nothing. That bone’s not broken, there’s just a slight tear in the muscle. Nothing to worry about really. He’ll be right as rain in a few days. He should be running about happy as Larry within the week and back at work in no time.

NURSE: But THIS MAN IS DYING!!! Look I’m going to call a specialist to come and have a look at him.

DOCTOR TWO: YES! 1-0 Messi. I told you putting him up front was a stroke of genius. Forrrrzzzzaaaa Barcaaaaa!

DOCTOR ONE: Look there’s really no need for a specialist. We know perfectly well what we’re doing

Starts to prod the patient with various implements.

NURSE: For Christ’s sake this man is in hideous pain. You can’t just patch him up and send him on his way. He’ll die.

DOCTOR ONE: Ok maybe you’re right. Doctor Stevens can you grab some aspirin from my drawer over there. Oh and a Centrum Vitamin tablet STAT!

Doctor Two passes the pills to Doctor One who forces them into the man’s mouth...There is silence for a few seconds, broken only by the beep beep of the Heart Rate Monitor.

HEART RATE MONITOR: BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP

NURSE: Oh my god he’s flatlining. You need to DO SOMETHING PLEASE!

DOCTOR ONE: Erm ok maybe we should call the specialist.

DOCTOR TWO: Good plan. He might be able to find what’s wrong because I really can’t see it myself. Besides we’ve got to get over to Spurs Lodge now anyway. Harry doesn’t like it when we’re late and I hear Aaron’s got a bit of tightness in his groin area.

DOCTOR ONE: Groin area? Ah don’t worry I’ll Wikipedia it on my iphone in the car.

Nurse leaves the room and glances at TV in A&E waiting room. Sky Sports News is playing. The headline running on the yellow-ticker at the bottom of the screen reads:

Defoe is 8^th Tottenham first team player out through injury. Spurs to struggle to finish 4^th. LOL

The Secret Diary of Dave Ephedrine Aged 37¾ (week 2)

by guest-blogger Tricky

Please note: This dary is purely fictional, still, as per last time. So no need for anyone to take offence, as this all this existed purely in my head (which probably says more about me than any of our, ahem, esteemed posters) to start with.

ps. I love you davspur, please don't ever gve up. You give us all hope that one man / woman can make a difference. This comment has no relation to the subject matter either, it is also just a coincidence, just thought I'd mention it.

Week 2

Monday

Have now got two members on facebook group, although technically one of them is a friend, as made profile for Dave the Brick myself. Apparently I need to take a week off LSD as a ‘control’ before deciding the next one to benchmark against, had heard of ‘controls’ before but thought it was to do with flying, in a plane that is. Bought Detox kit from ‘Holland & Barrett’ that place freaks me out. Found ‘caps lock’ button again, much relief, but wonder if last week’s drug had affected vision at all as apparently it had been there all along.

Tuesday

Went to Spurs lodge to see if I could speak to Harry about the EVIL blighting the game today. Managed to catch him in the car park, but think he got confused as he said ‘he wasn’t worried as he had someone in his pocket’, I too was confused by then so left. Went for run, Man followed me. Very odd, he must like running too. Wrote letter to Holland & Barrett to clarify exactly how homeopathic stuff works. Tried to explain to Mrs. Dave that water had a ‘memory’ when shaken, she didn’t believe me and I got confused.

Wednesday

Midweek game – replay, again! Took Mrs. Dave to the match, was watching closely every time the physio went on. Couldn’t quite see into his kit bag to see what was in it. [Note to self: Buy more powerful bins]. Watched replay on SKY+ when got home later, why doesn’t it have a zoom function and why do they cut away when physio goes on? Is this conspiracy bigger than I once thought? Are SKY in on it? Is there just one big cover up?

Thursday

Still only 2 members of EATS on facebook. Decided on meth amphetamine for next week after much deliberation. This experiment is starting to become expensive, might have to limit my comparison list, or at least select cheaper drugs. Spent afternoon writing letters to various governing bodies about my research so far, hopefully will elicit a better response now I have been ‘pro-active’ and have empirical data to back up my findings.

Friday

Payday – Hooray. Went straight to Dixons to get new, more powerful bins, they are the nuts so decided to call them Dave (after Dave the brick). Got letter back from FA asking me to stop sending letters to them, well that settles that then, they are definitely in on it! Man still lurking outside, maybe he works next door, which is odd as it’s a Kwik Fit and I’ve never seen him in any sort of boiler suit. Didn’t think they offered a 24hour service either, now wondering if I had misread fortune cookie from previous week.

                dave the bins

Saturday

Took Dave the Bins on first trip to WHL, they really are the nuts. No-one injured so didn’t help, was able to conclude that opposition were definitely on EVIL, as couldn’t keep up when on max zoom. Fortunately didn’t make difference as we held on for a win. Drafted another letter to Daniel Levy to highlight EVIL in game, will gamble on him not taking out an injunction as per previous correspondence. Noticed one sample bottle missing from fridge, wondering if someone has read my diary and is now trying to wreck my science, decided not to mention to Mrs. Dave.

Sunday

Got letter through post today, which is odd as the postman normally takes a day off on Sunday. It said ‘DAVE EPHADRINE, STOP CAUSING US PROBLEMS, WE KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE, MICHEL’. Was confused by this as I don’t even know a ‘Michael’, so how does he know where I live? He did at least write in capital letters, so that was pleasing, even if he did misspell his own name. No reply from Holland & Barrett yet.

MOTD - The irrepressible beast and the unmoveable object

by guest-blogger Tricky

Football; a lot of us watch it live, some of us listen to it and some of us have to be content with the ‘highlights’. But how much of a true representation is it and how do different media streams of the Beeb get their point across. And who chooses what gets missed out?

Well starting with Radio 5 Live it's exactly that (a true representation); on the spot, full coverage, all incident and aspect considered, often to the nth degree bordering on trivia quiz.

The Beebs live internet format is a relatively new, but in essence is simply a web based version of Ceefax (if you don’t know what that is just ask your dad, if you don’t know who your dad is give Jeremy Kyle a call) with more info.

But what of the much loved MOTD? After all condensing a 90 minute game into 11mins of highlights and 3 minutes of ‘analysis’ requires a lot of editing, but for some it is an institution. But surely the Beeb are an impartial neutral, able to report with objectivity and without bias. So if anyone can they can, right?

But then again this is a programme where - for what seems like eternity - they have employed two pundits who were given carte blanche to wax lyrical about their old clubs, so you have to question their bias in the first place on that point.

      Lawro and Hansen hard at work analysing

And the integrity of the new kids on the block? Well, I only have to ask what sort of genius would employ an irrepressible beast who has a ‘face for radio’ to help analyse the game? (Do they not know that I watch the repeats on a Sunday morning and have to eat breakfast sometimes faced with the gargoyle love child of ‘Sam the Eagle’ and Andi McDowell?)

So is MOTD a true representation of the game or it is edited to buggery with intentional bias?

Well, last Sunday I managed to watch the first half of Sunderland vs. Man City, and then listened to the second whilst in the car on 5 live. Now a certain Mr, Shaun Wright-Wright Phillips had, by all accounts, a woeful game and was the cause of the head shaking by Mancini who couldn’t believe how wasteful with his possession he had been, and then the radio covered an incident.

Now this incident bought into question the competence of the referee, (The radio 5 commentator said at the time the ref “bottled” making the correct decision which would have led to the dismissal of Wright-Wright Phillips) and how one moment could affect the course of a game.

For those that didn’t hear /see it; Born of frustration WWP effectively handled the ball whilst it was in play, already on a yellow and a goal down, the ref simply restarted and looked across to the bench as though he had been expecting a substitution to occur as his ‘get out of jail free card’. Sunderland can perhaps feel a little hard done by.

And so later on when watching MOTD2 I was interested to see, err, nothing. No reference to it, nada. There was time for a little montage of woeful shooting, but an actual incident that could have altered the context of the game. Not an iota of coverage at all. Nada, just an extra minute spent on the equalizer (not the late Edward Woodward) and how Adam Johnson might now be ‘a contender for the World cup squad.

So now, if you read the online match report on Beeb or watched the highlights you would be forgiven for thinking from the comments made on MOTD by the commentator that Adam Johnson’s inclusion was just a tactical change.

Now taking a step back from the ‘one game mentality’ for one moment, we all know that any given season could be said to be nothing more than a series of interconnected ‘incidents’, out of which both the myth of ‘what goes around’ and ‘the conspiracy theories’ are born.

They help form opinion, often about opposing clubs, and with a myriad of sources available who do we tend to believe? The journalists perhaps, after all they were there? But then they’re hardly without bias (just ask the reporters at the standard).

Consequently we all know people who dislike us, not for what we are, but for how we are portrayed, our team, our manager [yet another separate barrel of fish that one] and even our fans. And you can almost forgive some of them, because six different match reports could equally be from different games.

So having watched MOTD objectively I have some new conspiracy theories, time will tell how self fulfilling they become:

-    Is it now policy between now and May on MOTD to always show potential England players in a good light?

-    There must be a Rooney montage available for all end credits?

-    Each show should include the ‘kiss of death’ commentary that Rooney needs to ‘stay fit for the WC if we are to stand a chance’?

-    No wrong decisions by referees will be shown to undermine them (or at least our representatives at the summer WC, can’t think who they might be though)?

-    Do we now ignore the negative aspect of the national teams players, in order to help build up the inevitable furore and ‘national pride’ across the country, as we all believe that our players are without fault 100% of the time?

So what of Gerrard and his investigation by FA? There are those who seem to think that in a World Cup year certain players are ‘untouchable’, but it should make no difference, surely? But will it be ‘carpet and brush’ as in previous years or is this the next ‘Terrygate’? (edit: Spooky: FA have turned a blind eye much like the ref who was staring at the incident when it happened)

And what of the neutrals? Those of us who follow the game and for whom day to day banter with opposing fans in an office or out with friends and family is often based upon these half truths.

Well, as Day of the Triffics pt2 has shown (link to his rundown of Webb-isms from Blackburn match report) the fans remember the incidents, in their own way and from their perspective, so when you next watch MOTD maybe a healthy dose of cynicism wouldn’t go amiss.

For me, I will declare my bias accordingly, I still love MOTD, but then if anyone has read my biog Lineker is my childhood hero, so I’m 100% biased on this one.

And if you're looking for a new drinking game, try the ‘triffic game’ with Harry full pre- and post- match interviews, you’ll be on the floor in 90 seconds.

An addendum to the 4th place issue........

by guest-blogger Tricky

*please not that the identities of the clubs in question have been protected to stop it becoming an automatic game-saying from opposition fans, or as they are fast becoming known 'the lowest common denominator'.

As a caveat to the question of ‘4^th or Cup’, Spooky asked a genuine question, but inadvertently in doing so has attracted some watching opposing fans.

It is an interesting question and one that naturally draws a comparative, it is emotive because of the comparison and the need to be honest about ‘what really matters in the game’. Accordingly it is subjective depending on the individual fans own views on whether or not football is about the trophies and days out to cup finals, or whether the business side and progression to recognition amongst Europe’s elite is of a greater long term consequence. Ostensibly ‘live for the here and now’, or ‘Jam tomorrow’.

But let me cast my mind back to the year 2005 and the month of May (as per Tony’s question of ‘who remembers the final’)

Well I for one remember well the FA cup in 2005. One team from the south (let's call them 'Farcenal'* for argument sake as it doesn't actually matter who it was) played 'anti-football' for 120 minutes whilst a team from the North West (let's call them Glazer United*) dominated possession, and did everything but score (Farcenal having 'parked the bus at the millennium stadium on the pitch'). Farcenal won on penalties, and it was to be their only piece of silverware for 5 years.

The manager of Farcenal then went on complain at every possible opportunity, for the next five years, when teams set themselves up to play a 'certain way' in break down his team, and yet no reporter has had the temerity to point out that 'well didn't your last piece of silverware come from exactly that scenario?'.

So yeah I remember it as it was two hours of my life wasted by negative play, and the 'wrong team' won (purely from a neutrals perspective as I have no love for either team) and football was the loser that day. The highlights were limited to a 10 minute analysis of defensive play by farcenal, and  the penalty shoot out, accordingly MOTD was only 16 minutes long that day, the shortest in recorded history for the National Game’s ‘blue ribbon event’.

Of  course since that day their fans don't like being reminded of that each time they start chanting the 'Farcenal mantras':

-          Thou shalt not tackle thyne 'farcenal players'

-          Thou shalt not defend only at the home of the effeminates

-          Thy manager knows best, for he is Le God and accordingly is never contradictory, myopic or wrong.

Since then the question has been posed to ‘Farcenal’ which would they prefer 4^th place or a cup, and each year the answer has been the same ‘Champions League is vital to the attraction and financial stability of the club’. So that’s their view, money over trophies in recent time.

As I said this is just an aside, as I remember 2005 and it added to the extensive list of reasons to ‘dislike Farcenal’.

'Farcenal' also finished 2^nd in the league that year, and was to be the last time in same five year period of finishing in top 2 in the league. Just thought I’d mention it, may come in handy during ‘discussions’ with the opposing fans later on in the season.

The Secret Diary of Dave Ephedrine aged 37 & 3/4

by guest-blogger Tricky

NOTE: The following Diary extract is entirely fictional, any resemblance to persons either living or dead, or called Dave are purely coincidence and therefore DML cannot be held liable.

Week 1

Monday

Have just got Chinese New Year calendar from local restaurant, and have decided to keep a diary for purposes of documenting my scientific study of Ephedrine and its effects. Only a small space on each day for comments, certainly not enough space for capital letters only, may have to reconsider if it gets too much for me. Strange that they give out New Year calendars in February, must be cheaper to get them made in Jan I guess, what with the sales and all.

Tuesday

Decided to form Ephedrine Awareness and Testing Society, or EATS for short. Must make people aware of EVIL that is Ephedrine. After last week’s trial run of EVIL, this week I am blind testing  LSD as a scientific means of a comparative. Updated Wikipedia entry on EVIL, so far my amendments have been ignored, must write a letter to someone about this. Note: someone has stolen ‘caps lock’ button from keyboard at work.

Wednesday

Just opened fortune cookie from chinese restaurant (it had rolled under the sofa so only just discovered) it says, ‘You are Dave Ephedrine and I am going to stalk you to the end of your days’. These things are always so ambiguous so decided to ignore it. Feeling quite buzzy all day so had a cup of horlicks to calm me down. Still better than last week’s EVIL test.

                                Dave

Thursday

Not a good day! Dave the Brick (my pet brick, no relation) had a proper mard on, put him on naughty step for the rest of the day to have a good think about whether he wants to be part of the conservatory or not. Am starting to wonder if a week on LSD is enough to constitute ‘scientific evidence’, certainly it would be better than any of those hair product adverts with that annoying bint from ‘four weddings’.

Friday

Had no response from blog forums to joining EATS, I wanted to use all capital letters to make my point, but still can’t find the caps lock key. Might start a facebook group as that seems to be the way things are done today. Took three hours to get home, although two were spent studying the tube map at underground station, it’s quite fascinating really. Still feel a little bit buzzy, wondering if Horlicks might have negative effect on test results, will google later for research purposes.

Saturday

Match day – Hooray, trip to WHL. First time I’ve ever noticed someone following me to WHL all the way from my house, remembered fortune cookie, but ignored it as the features of his face melted away after a while. Don’t remember result as decided to watch Harry and only stand up when he did (thought it might make another good scientific experiment) got cold and confused, stood up and went home at half time.

Sunday

One week of testing concludes that LSD is not as bad for you as Ephedrine, Dave the brick disagrees, but I think that’s because he’s still narked at Mrs. Dave putting him outside after tripping over him when he was on the naughty step. I have compiled the heart rate readings on hard drive and labelled and stored sample bottles in fridge for reference. Will update Wikipedia again later with results.

to be continued...

One flew out of the cuckoo clock

by guest-blogger Tricky

There is altruism that ‘those who seek power, are those that you would least like to see wield it’. It would seemingly apply, fairly universally to many people in the world, from the lowliest MP and then working up the food chain from thereon in.

As president of FIFA, Sepp Blatter wields power over a sport that is holds and captivates a populous around the globe, as such his influence on people probably puts him only one step behind President Obama (and consequently perhaps a step ahead of Mr Brown).

For his part, Michel Platini (the Brown to Blatter’s Obama status to continue the analogy) appears like a wanton lapdog, trying to help his master in any way possible to avert the need for this ‘evil’ that is technology, by suggesting that it is extra officials is the way forward.

So when it comes to goal line technology what was the reason initially for its dismissal? Well, according to Blatter it ‘took too long to reach a decision’ and was ‘not sufficiently accurate’ having been tested on only a ‘third tier’ league game. As with all megalomaniacs when dismissing something, everything they have stated to oppose an idea is ‘true’, and as such becomes ‘fact’ very quickly.

Now I’d like to raise a point here, the reasons initially given for dismissing it were ‘wrong’ and ‘incorrect’, accordingly Hawkeye innovations (manufacturers of the system that ‘worked’) made an open letter just a gentle hint to nudge the President in the right direction:

It is a fairly lengthy letter but the summary goes as follows:

Dear Mr Blatter,

You are wrong, wrong diddly wrong, wrong, and we can prove it with science. Please don’t ignore us just because we’re nerds,

love and kisses,

the nerds.

So why wasn’t it snatched upon by our beloved press, and reported ahead of other such headline newsworthy items that day as “Rooney stubs toe, but should be OK for world cup next summer” or “Tiger set to appear as Santa for local school, but will stop at three ho’s”?

       Who wants to watch the re-run of the 2005 FA Cup Final?

A cynic of course would point out that, as Hawkeye have a vested interest, they would say what they have, but these guys are nerds who deal in 3-D planes and processing power, their idea of a vested interest goes as far as trying to blag free tickets to the ‘gadget show live’.

But even still, to dismiss a proven technology that works and could assist the game in making crucial decisions, that is wanted by managers and league presidents from all over, by what? Replacing it with extra officials, who between three of them can’t make the correct decision 100% of the time in 90 minutes, and you want to add another two? Surely it is an illogical conclusion to have come to.

On the surface it appears that we have put the inmates in charge of the asylum, which all sounds entertaining and a thoroughly decent watch. Just sit back and watch the nutters make up rules in disbelief, after all it has always been that way so why change it now.

But as football is not the only place where such ridiculous conclusions exist the question needs to be asked: Does it really matter?

It is at this point I’d like to, just fleetingly mention Pedro Mendes, now for some he was a solid footballers who unfortunately was playing second fiddle to a certain Mr Carrick (who’s own story is now well documented), but he was too good to be a bench warmer and so he departed, and when Carrick followed he was possibly one of those we ‘wish we hadn’t sold’.

However given the pre-amble, I very much doubt that any of you are, by now, thinking of anything other than ‘the goal that never was’.  Well, I’m afraid we don’t have the trademark on it though, as any Birmingham fan will tell you amongst others, but it is perhaps the most often cited example of where goal line technology would have assisted.

And this perhaps is the point, history will recall that the game in question finished 0-0, time will pass and that is it.

The fans will however remember the actual physical pain for every single replay like another nail pinned to a ‘Voodoo Jol’ (tm) with the curse ‘thou shall not win against a top 4 club’ repeated over and over. Stunning us, mesmerising us, each time pleading with the linesman that ‘this time’ he might get it right. It was a point of discussion then and five years latter it still is today.

And it is not an isolated incident, as only the other day I was privy to conversation on how ‘Gareth Bale is the best left back since Cyril Knowles’. Now I have to say I have not had the privilege of ever seeing Cyril, but the point is that it is the fans that remember games, and incidents and feelings and emotions. Whereas history does not, it remembers only results, and victories, and increasingly Annual reports.

So does getting the right result matter? It may not make it fairer in some regards, i.e. Dominance in possession for 90 minutes will not automatically lead to the ‘right team’ winning, as per the 2005 FA cup. Some would say that there is so much money tied up in getting the ‘right result’ that it does matter and significantly so.

So maybe Blatter is in fact doing us a favour, by allowing us to banter, and argue and discuss the painful truths of ‘what might have been’. So well done Sepp, you weird megalomaniac chocolate eating cuckoo clock making nutter, for allowing us to talk bollocks rather than having to work all the time.

Right I’m heading off for my fishing trip now, with the rest of the loonies. Anyone care to join me?

il Potenziale

by guest-blogger Fox Mulder

According to the Sunday Mirror yesterday, one Jermaine Jenas has begun taking Italian lessons to prepare for a move to Inter Milan in the Summer. The papers really don't want to let this one lie and for anyone who has witnessed the man himself this season it is nothing short of baffling. 

Look at the two parties - Inter Milan are one of the most decorated teams in Italian football and have won Serie A the last three seasons on the spin. Jermaine Jenas has a Carling Cup medal and won the Soccer AM crossbar challenge.

Reading this story again I considered several options:

1. This whole story is one of those big media 'in-jokes' perpetuated by cheeky Arsenal and Chelsea supporting journalists. The scoundrels.

2. It's true and Jose Mourinho is such a genius he can see something in the player that a good majority of Spurs fans can not.

3. It's true and Jose Mourinho's malevolent ego has become so powerful that it has seized control of his conscious mind and is seeking to destroy him.

4. The story is completely made up - just putting it out there guys...

The man they call JJ has polarised more opinions at White Hart Lane than I've had false dawns and I don't intend to defend or attack him here. Sometimes he's great and sometimes he's awful, a couple of screamers against Arsenal prolonging the fading hope that there is a world class player in that slim, chiselled frame just bursting to get out. In fact, much like a few of our players (Hudd, Pav, Crouch) you can even be found arguing with yourself on a game by game and sometimes minute by minute basis. "He's got a good engine, but he's too soft. He can beat players in the midfield, but he's a confidence player. He's good at set pieces. he's shit at set pieces. This game needs Jenas. For God's sake sub him off." He's like Yin and Yang, it is in his essence to be simultaenously both shite and brilliant, caught in a delicate and timeless footballing paradox. By the time I've finished the 10 minute, post-match walk to my car I'm practically a quivering, schitzophrenic wreck.

But let's say he packed his designer luggage and headed for Milan. How would our boy fair in a city that is known for fashion, food and football? What impact would he have on fans who have seen their midfield strings pulled by some of the true greats of the game?

The last English midfielder that wore the nerazzuri shirt was Paul Ince, and he is till fondly remembered in Inter folklore. After a slow start, his tough tackling, whole hearted displays coupled with a good range of passing a vicious shot were a revelation at the San Siro. His sheer enthusiasm and toughness made him exactly what the Inter fans expected when they signed an English midfield general. 

So far not so good then for JJ.

But of course there already is an English midfielder playing in Milan. One who is known more for his creativity than his brutality. He's not got the legs anymore but he can put a set piece where it's meant to be. And Italians bloody love a set piece. Mr Beckham is a world star playing for Inter's fiercest rivals. Jenas would be only the 2nd Englishman currently playing in Italy, in the same city and the same stadium no less. Comparisons would instantly be drawn and I'm struggling to remember many goals scored from an expertly delivered Jenas dead ball.

2-0 to the doubters then.

However, the Italian league is less physical, more tactical and players get a lot more time on the ball. Compared to many opponents in Serie A, Jenas would probably look like he has the work rate of Wayne Rooney. He's also actually pretty bright. Word from the Lodge is that he's one of, if not THE most intellectual of our current flock. Any time there is an education initiative he's front of the queue. That's not saying much though as he's probably the only one that can even spell queue, or his name for that matter.

I for one think more English players should get out there and play abroad. We have the so-called best league in the world but foreign clubs rarely try to buy our English players. He is still young enough to develop his game to perhaps even make a decent shout for England at Euro 2012. He could be an absolute revelation and having Mourinho there would be a massive advantage for him.

He may finally find fans that really love him. He may even get his first ever proper chant - less hilarious things rhyme with Jenas in Italian than they do in English.

Love or loathe him, I'd say it's pretty universally accepted that Jermaine is not going to push on a level at Spurs, and we won't up our level with him in the team.

If he does move then I wish him the best of luck. He may not have set our world alight but he's played under about 50 managers, never moaned to the press to force a transfer and yes, he did score some blinders against the goons. 

Europeans love to give their players little nicknames. In Italy Jenas would be il potenziale - the potential. If he joins Inter this Summer I'd love to see him finally realise it.