Tis the season

Dear readers, a short update as we go into the Christmas holidays (posted at Abu Dhabi airport no less!)

As a Saints fan I have to be happy with my team sitting like a shining star right on top of the tree, however I do fear that the needles are about to start dropping off and the bulbs going on that particular tree. City meanwhile have every reason to think they can maintain their lofty position into 2012 and way beyond. Certainly there are plenty around here that think and hope they will!

I hope that you all have a wonderful Christmas and that 2012 brings everything you are after - miraculous relegation escapes, cup glory, a win against your bitter rivals or even just a nice shiny new kit in the summer. As always thanks a million for reading, it makes it all very rewarding!

As a final word, I've recently been accepted onto the team of contributors for football blog State of the Game - www.stateofthegame.co.uk and you can see my first post on their site right now, entitled 'they all count, but some count more than others' - posted on the day the 20`000th Premier League goal was scored by the goal macine Marc Albrighton. Take a look at the site, they have a range of writers which makes for interesting opinions. I'll of course keep up the work on Sub Please but will contribute there too from time to time.

Merry Christmas, all the best,

Chris

Eurotrash

A couple of days ago, the 48 teams still competing on the European stage learned their reward for progressing through their group - or, in the case of 8 third place Champions League drop-out's, their penalty for failing to cut it at the highest level.

It's probably not too much of a stretch to say that the English teams can all consider themselves pretty hard done by. Not one of them received what could in any fashion be considered an easy draw, plenty of tricky looking fixtures which will surely result in less than 5 English representatives moving on to the next round in their respective competition.

In the big show, Chelsea drew dangerous (somewhat) surprise package Napoli, who of course qualified ahead of Man City. Arsenal got AC Milan out of the hat and vintage edition or not there is no doubting their pedigree in European Cup football. With the attacking threat posed by Ibrahimovic, Robinho, Pato and even Kevin Prince-Boateng they should be feared.

The Europa League did not hand either City or United the humiliating 'who are they' kind of tie that many would have been hoping for, a chance to gloat at the lesser status of this competition. Ajax and Porto are former European Cup winners both and neither can be taken as pushovers.

Finally, Stoke City - the one English club to make it through their Europa League group - get rewarded with a very tricky looking tie against Valencia. Again, we're not talking the finest ever Valencia side here (for my money that was the 2000/1/2 mob, Mendieta, Lopez et al) but it is fair to say Stoke have a challenge on their hands.

The one thing that really jumped out to me from all of this though and what I'd like to ruminate upon here, is the lucky bloody fans of all of these clubs.

That draw has served up 5 absolutely storming away trips for fans of any of the English contingent. All pretty much accessible within a 2.5 hour flight - no long slogs to the far reaches of Eastern Europe; and all in cities with a lot to offer besides the football - no industrial backwaters or glorified villages.

Years ago, 2003 or 4 I think it was, I was in Paris when Chelsea were in town to play PSG. I remember being so jealous of the Chelsea fans that we saw on the Champs Elysees or at the Eiffel Tower - what a great trip to be able to make, all with the purpose of supporting your team thrown in too. Their team won 3-0 as well, so I can imagine it was one hell of a couple of days for those Blues fans.

Southampton have only been in Europe once during my time as a supporter, qualifying for the 2003/4 UEFA Cup by virtue of losing the FA Cup final to Arsenal who of course were in the Champions League. This was before the group stage era, still straight knockout, and we were handed a tough draw against Steaua Bucharest. I was desperate to go, but the away fixture fell on precisely the day that I had to turn up at University for my first year, so it was not do-able. We narrowly lost the tie and that was it as far as our European exploits go.

Travelling as an England fan is something that I would consider doing more of if it wasn't for the fact that, as discussed previously, I find the team hard to love at the moment; plus a disappointingly large percentage of England fans are, how to put this, not quite my cup of tea. Scumbags, we'll call them.

To travel away supporting your own club though, that is surely the pinnacle. Away days domestically tend to bring out the 'best' fans, and they often throw up adventures and encounters that the routine of a home match day rarely will. Discovering a new pub in a town you've not been too, feeling that sense of danger and apprehension about being on the territory of another; but bound by the camaraderie and togetherness of your fellow supporters. Often you will meet some fans of the opposition and get an interesting take on their views of your club and vice versa - they can look at your team through more objective eyes than you or your fellow fans can. Yep, you can't beat a good away trip and I can only imagine how brilliant it must be to be able to extend that over a couple of days, and being in a foreign country also.

All of the things that make an away day great are surely increased when you are on a European away day, and the fact you could do a bit of sightseeing or spend a bit of time down at the beach just adds to the experience.

I'm sure some of the managers and directors of the English clubs are probably looking at their draw with a rueful eye, wishing that the fates had dealt them an easier hand. As for the fans though, they should be loving it. Easyjet, here we come...

A.V.B will be H.A.P (p.y.)

The biggest game in this weekend's round of Premier League fixtures saw Chelsea come from behind to beat Manchester City 2-1 at Stamford Bridge, handing City their first league defeat of the season in the process. It's being regarded in some quarters as a seismic shock heralding the beginning of the end for City's title charge, which frankly I think is bollocks.

It's a great result for Andre Villas Boas, particularly coming off the back of a pair of 3-0 wins. First at Newcastle and then in the Champs League against Valencia to see them through as group winners; a make or break spell that although it has not won anything, you feel would be hard to come back from for the young manager if the results had not gone so well.

City remain top despite the loss, and for me remain the team to beat. They have such quality throughout their team and to be honest the level of celebration from Chelsea fans at the end spoke volumes, telling it's own tale about just where the power lies nowadays.

Similar premature and Neejurk style doom-mongery has been heard over on these shores of late, with the Brisbane Roar's 36 game unbeaten run coming to a crashing halt. First they were well beaten by an excellent all-round performance from Sydney FC, and then this weekend, even more incredibly, they were turned over at home by none other than Melbourne Heart. They, as City, remain top, and they, as City, remain the team to beat. The most remarkable thing arguably in this record breaking run that spanned over a year coming to an end, is the ridiculously fickle nature of the Roar fans.

2-0 down at half time, at home, and they booed. Seriously cobbers, are you having a flamin' laugh - or has the Castlemaine XXXX been served extra strong today? How fans think they can boo after a period of such dominance, where they have been treated to comfortably the best domestic football Australians have ever seen is beyond me. What great loyalty. Bloody idiots.

I fully expect both the Roar and Man City to get back on track and prove that their latest results are no more than what is to be expected from time to time. Indeed, if City had not made such a phenomenal start, and if the benchmark from Premier League excellence had not been set to a standard whereby every defat is a disaster, an away game at Chelsea would be one of the fixtures that Mancini would have marked down as 'be chuffed with a point'.

The one league topping team that I do not hold out quite so much hope for, sadly, is my own Southampton. Playing live on television last weekend at home to Blackpool, I had a bad feeling for a while before the game. Shoddy away results, a home record that was quite sensational but surely had to end, and a lifetime of being shit on TV all seemed to be pointing towards bad times.

The fact that regular keeper Kelvin Davis was out only added to my fears, and with Bartosz Bialkowski deputising in goal I knew things weren't going to go well (actual pre match conversation... my mate "is he decent" me "well he's always got one shocker in him per game")

If you've not seen what happened, two words: Massimo Taibi. Ironically Taibi's moment of infamy was against the Saints, maybe Bart was paying some kind of suicidal homage. Rickie Lambert rescued a point in injury time, and fortunately with West Ham showing poor reading skills, Southampton stay top, for now. I think this will not be the case for too much longer though, our away form will need to improve dramatically to sustain a title challenge.

Next game should be easy enough though, Portsmouth, at Fratton Park, on telly. Gulp.

European Financial Crisis hits Manchester

The Champions League group stage has reached it's climax today for another season, and after the dust has settled on a frantic and dramatic Match Day 6, there is an unfamiliar feeling.

The feeling is failure for the two Manchester clubs, who must now exit the swanky nightclub full of fit girls and instead make do with the scabby rejects in the grotty pub next door, AKA the Europa League. This feeling of failure is one that Manchester United have rarely had to contend with over the past 25 years. City will be much more used to it over that time, although their recent domestic dominance and embarrassment does make it a surprise nonetheless.

In a reversal of what is the case in the Premier League, London is lording it up with both Arsenal and Chelsea through as group winners, whilst top of the tree Mancs United and City find themselves coming to terms with the reality of what should be seen as a failed campaign.

Or should it? I would argue that in the case of Manchester City, this is not necessarily a failure. Certainly not a disaster.

The fact is, City finished with a haul of 10 points, a respectable total which would have taken them through in 6 of the other 7 groups. They faced Bayern Munich, a European superpower; Napoli, an effervescent and dangerous Italian club on the rise; and Villarreal who this time around were a shadow of their previously sparkling best, but a qualifier from the Spanish La Liga nonetheless. They could without doubt have been handed an easier draw, and their results, losing away at Bayern and Napoli, were nothing to be ashamed of. Ultimately the home draw with Napoli looks to have cost them, but in a debut season for the club, I would suggest this can be taken as a significant step in the right direction.

Spurs set the world alight last year in their first stab at the big show, qualifying from a tricky group and dispatching both Milan clubs in the process. They did not however repeat their feat, missing out on Europe altogether in fact. Only a lunatic would bet against City finishing in the top four of the Premier League this season, and any season for the foreseeable future, so I think this first campaign is all a part of the process.

Money, in the obscene volumes that it has been spent at City, demands success, which breeds impatience. I'm sure even the most stoic grounded City fans, (memories of League One still haunting their nightmares) even they would have dared to dream about going all the way straight off the bat. This was never likely though and they did not disgrace themselves at all.

Now, to United. Compared to Bayern, Napoli and Villarreal; the opposition consisting of Benfica, Basel and Otelul Galati looked to be an absolute piece of cake.

The record of 3 draws, two wins and only one defeat may on paper look reasonable, but not for a club of United's stature. The wins came against whipping boy supreme, Galati, and even those wins weren't demolitions. Make no mistake, this is an extremely poor outcome for Manchester United, and one which should and could easily have been avoided. Only three times in 17 years have United failed to progress from the group - it remains to be seen what this may mean in terms of a legacy (Ferguson's teams have been written off too many times for anyone to think such a thing is a good idea, they'll be back) but for right now it means the Europa League.

Thursday nights, playing against some lesser lights, with significantly less fanfare and - crucially - revenue. Travelling close to the weekend, having to juggle your squad, faced with an obligation to compete but perhaps a desire to dismiss.

City would look to be the better equipped of the two to make a serious assault on the silver medal (if it's even that). They have a squad without equal across Europe and can easily play a reserve team in this tournament and still put out a better 11 than the majority of the teams they will face. United's first team is suffering from injuries, loss of form and - most damaging of all - a fundamental lack of quality. To compare to the famed midfield of Beckham-Keane-Scholes-Giggs, not to mention some of the terrifying attacking options they have possessed in the past (Kanchelskis-Hughes-Cantona; Yorke-Cole-Sheringham-Solskjaer; Ronaldo-Rooney-Tevez) it becomes sorely apparent that the squad at the moment is nowhere near that level.

Of course, it may be that I'm falling into the classic 'United pre-Christmas' trap, and many times before they have been written off only to come back all guns blazing in the new year and end up on top as so often before. Indeed, the most interesting thing to come out of this shock Champions League exit for England's two currently leading clubs may well be the impact on the domestic title race.

City could arguably afford now to focus on the league and cups, play reserves in the Europa and see what happens there, but do so without the pressure they would face if in the Champions League latter stages. Lose and you can say it's the league you're focussing on, get far and you can add another trophy to the cabinet and market it as part of the 'project'.

Arsenal have proven time and again over recent years that they struggle to compete on multiple fronts when it comes down to it; Chelsea are rebuilding but still shaken from a tricky start. Both of them might find that this progression actually harms their chances of launching a serious threat to the top end of the table.

United seem ill equipped to challenge, but a 3rd round exit from the FA Cup at the hands of the noisy neighbours, and an early Steve Kean style 'forfeiture' of the Europa League, might just allow them to plough it all into the title race. They will surely apply significant pressure in chasing down City - as will on current evidence Tottenham, without any distraction.

Ultimately I'm inclined to see this as far from a disaster for City and indeed it may well be a key step in allowing them to claim their first Premier League title. Whether it's quite a disaster for United is not so clear. Ferguson won't be happy, that's an understatement, but you know he'll be plotting how to get his team back where they belong. Europe, beware...

Short FUSE...?

The draw for next June's European Championships have taken place, and my instant reaction from an England fan's point of view was something of a murmur.

I'm still trying to decipher precisely what kind of a murmur it was, and what it meant.

It is not the most glamorous or exciting of groups, which as I have written about before, is what I really want from this tournament. England's WC group campaigns in 2006 and 2010 were notable only for the fact that nothing much of note occurred - I'd love us to have drawn an exciting Group of Death (more on that later) when at least you know the games are more likely to be exciting and dramatic.

France, the first team that England will face, pose the biggest threat from Pot 4 without a doubt; but they were only minutes away from the play-off's after a qualifying campaign in which they were matched almost right to the wire by Bosnia-Herzegovina. Their WC2010 ordeal was probably unmatched by another team in it's farcical ineptitude and failure to perform to capability. Laurent Blanc has since come in however and revitalised the set up, and with top quality young attacking talent such as Samir Nasri and Yann M'Vila, and a resurgent Karim Benzema up front, they are a threat. England can think back to two friendly defeats under Capello to know why they should take this Pot 4 team very seriously.

The Euro 2004 opener against the French, which England ultimately lost despite leading 1-0 on 89 mins, was a case in point that you probably want to get the best team played ASAP. England won their final two group games that year (with 7 goals and the international emergence of a young Wayne Rooney) to render the initial defeat less damaging. I would argue that, despite their coefficient, France are the strongest opponent in Group D and so England should be pleased at getting them out of the way first.

Up next is Sweden, and without doubt the murmur in this context was one of over familiarity. England have faced Sweden so many times in qualifying campaigns or tournaments over the time I have been watching them that this game holds no novelty factor, moreover with the dismal record (recent friendly win notwithstanding) these are another opponent that England would do well to prepare thoroughly for. Zlatan Ibrahimovic is clearly the outstanding talent in this team, yet has often flattered to deceive on the biggest stage. He memorably scored a ridiculous acrobatic back-heel lob against the Italians in 04; but in general his best displays over his career have been in a Milan shirt of one form or another.

The final opponent is joint host, Ukraine. Compared to Spain or Netherlands, and arguably perhaps even Poland, this would look to be clearly the plum draw from Pot One. The third-lowest ranked side going to the tournament (only Poland and Ireland have a lower coefficient) they also have a poor run of form and a lack of competitive tournament football since 2006 (and none at all before that). All of that being said however, the simple truth is that you should never underestimate the host nation. Austria and Switzerland put up more of a fight in 2008 than their results suggested (only 1 win and a draw between them) and Ukraine and Poland will surely offer some resistance to those around them. The fact that England play Ukraine last could be all the more reason to fear the host nation factor - if the locals go into this game with hopes of progression intact, Capello's men will have one hell of a fight on their hands to get through.

On reflection, I think the murmur was borne out of frustration that we didn't get a more glamorous group, but tempered with the consolation that comes with the knowledge that this group does offer a chance of escape into the quarter finals.

Fans of teams in Groups B and C might be forgiven for having slightly less optimism about their chances. Indeed, Irish fans probably felt less of a murmur more an outburst of profanity at drawing both tournament experts Italy, peerless Spain and always dangerous Croatia. Even that quartet is not the most fearsome in my opinion however.

Group B contains Netherlands, Germany, Denmark and Portugal. There is not a single fixture in that group upon which I would happily place $100 on the winner. When every game is likely to be so tight, it becomes just as difficult to state with any real assertion who will progress - one team from Netherlands, Germany or Portugal will be out at the group stage.

Finally, saving the dullest and least inspiring for last, we have the nerd convention that is Group A. Poland, Greece, Czech Republic and Russia. Eurgh. For what it is worth, I had a feeling prior to the draw that one of the hosts would be a dark horse and progress further than rankings might suggest they should - after this result I'd say Poland will be that horse. It could be that with the high stakes and pressure in the more high profile games, these ugly sisters actually end up putting on the best entertainment, but I really can't relish the prospect of a 3am start to watch Greece v Russia.

Ultimately, I don't think this draw changes a great deal for England. With a tournament of such few teams, the quality throughout is intimidating. Getting through our group is certainly a possibility, more so with FrUkSwe than if we'd drawn the Spanish or Dutch. It's not going to be easy however and I could certainly see England finishing on 3 or 5 points and exiting the tournament without losing a game a la New Zealand in 2010.

After that, I think anything beyond the quarter finals is a bonus - we would face most likely Italy or Spain, at which stage I think we will come up against a superior team. My aim is to prevent the usual excitement/hysteria from creeping in (probably easier to do from Sydney than London) and ensure that, when we do go out at the QF stage, I don't get drunk and depressed, having convinced myself that this was our year. Easier said than done.

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In the build up to the tournament, Sub Please will of course bring all the good stuff, team profiles, ones to watch, tips for triumph and disaster, etc. For now though we'll turn attentions back to the domestic scene; where City, Arsenal and Spurs continue to impress, Martin O'Neiil has a job on his hands at Sunderland, and time is ticking for the Lancashire bottom-dwellers.

Oh yeah, and Southampton are starting to wobble...

Carlsberg don't do quarter finals. (Carling do)

The Carling Cup has over the years been known by many names. It went through a phase of being regarded by many managers as the ginger stepchild of the footballing calendar; an annoying inconvenience that had to be tolerated, couldn't be avoided, but was best given as little attention as possible.

Lately however, it has blossomed. Maybe the ginger stepchild could grow up to be a Paul Scholes, a Boris Becker or an Isla Fisher (all ranga kids once of course, and look at what they achieved). Some cracking ties, a healthy dose of fresh faces eager to impress at the big clubs sprinkled with upsets aplenty from lower division teams ready to pounce on Premier League complacency.

For fans of Cardiff City, to whom cup success is of course no stranger, having reached the FA Cup final of 2008 only to be denied by Tax Dodging scummy bunch of Cheats FC, the quarter final win over Blackburn surely provided the highlight of this season so far.

The fun had by the Bluebirds fans on Tuesday night is nothing however to the carnage that, as I type, is presumably* being unleashed in Manchester City Centre. Crystal Palace, conquerors of my own Saints in the previous round, went up to Old Trafford far more in hope than expectation. Alex Ferguson made 10 changes to his weekend line-up, as is his wont and as most Premier League managers do in this competition - but was still fielding a team with experience and quality throughout.

Palace took full advantage of the absence of the likes of Nemanja Vidic, Wayne Rooney, Nani McPhee, Ashley Young, Little Pea and (wow, United are lacking in stars these days) other first team regulars. A 2-1 win after extra time is by all accounts no more than the Selhurst Park outfit deserved. Having initially taken the lead through a Darren Ambrose wonder goal (he does love the cameras, Ambrose, always one for the big games: let's see him do it on a wet Tuesday in Stoke etc etc) but then been pegged back through a Macheda penalty, Palace deserve immense credit for this result.

The semi final draw, which I imagine will be welcomed by neutrals, then gave further reason to be cheerful for the fans of the two remaining Championship clubs. Liverpool's reward for putting more misery onto the young shoulders of AVB is to try and stop the Man City juggernaut, no easy task given that City have arguably the strongest squad in world football. What the City Liverpool tie does mean of course (and those sharper ones of you might just have deduced this, crafty Sherlocks that you are) is the other tie drawn out the hat is Palace Cardiff.

One Championship team will be going to the final, meaning potentially a first trip to the new Wembley for Palace, and potentially a European spot for either team regardless of the final outcome. For me this is precisely the beauty of cup competition and I'll be rooting for whichever of the two underdogs makes it through. Carling may have preferred a semi final line up of Chelsea, United, City and (ahem) Blackburn but for most of us, the combination of underdogs and big guns is what cup football is all about.

Carlsberg don't do football tournaments, but if they did, they could do a lot worse than the Carling Cup

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* I say presumably...there is no presume about it. Half my old football team travelled up to Manchester for the game: a ragtag bunch of die hard Palace supporters, those with a soft spot for the Eagles, or simply those who enjoy a bit of carnage. Through some exclamation mark riddled text messages from the other side of the world this morning, I could sense a certain level of excitement. It's going to be one hell of a night, if you're in the Manchester area on Wednesday morning and you see a tall fellow on crutches, talk quietly around him, he's probably got a sore head. Although you'll not know it from the smile that will still be on his face...

Speed: Demons?

Right, straight to it, let's be very clear...when things like this happen, I'm sure we can all agree that the football matches which took place over the weekend take on a different perspective.

I'm referring to the shocking news that I awoke to today and which came to light early Sunday morning in England: the death of Wales manager Gary Speed aged just 42.

There are so many circumstances which made this news instantly inconceivable. A relatively young man. A young man who was clearly in excellent physical fitness, having retired from professional football only 2 years previously. A young man in excellent physical condition with, as evidenced by his regular TV appearances, no apparent debilitating dependency on drugs or alcohol. My first thoughts were simply, how on Earth can someone like that just drop dead? I thought it must be one of those ticking time bomb conditions that can strike at any moment.

Further reports emerged that suggested in fact this was suicide. If true, this simply throws up even more inexplicable questions. A young man with a young family. A person for whom financial security presumably has not been a problem for the last 20 years and will never be. A retired footballer with a career spanning 20 years, with medals, hundreds of appearances, and adoration from fans of all 5 of his clubs. Now an international football manager who, in less than a year, has improved his nation's ranking by 50 places, won half of his 10 games in charge, and brought about a renewed sense of optimism for the forthcoming World Cup qualification campaign. A respected, erudite and articulate football pundit who in his relaxed appearances on Football Focus often brought insight that is sadly lacking from many of the headline pundits around. A bloke who, according to reports from his friends and colleagues, was in good spirits and showing now outwardly signs of distress less than 24 hours before his life ended. With all of the above, what possible reason could there be for Speed to take this unthinkable action?

A couple of days ago I read the following piece, from Stan Collymore, about depression, and was preparing a blog about it. I'll not claim to have ever suffered from depression, because, as Collymore so powerfully asserts, it is a serious illness. I, as I would imagine everyone else, have once or twice in the past had spells where you don't feel good and you can't even say why, but it has always been something that you can snap out of. (No jokes about it being linked to my supporting Southampton please, this is a serious piece..) True Depression though is something far darker and far more insidious than just having a down day. It destroys lives - Collymore is a high profile and tragic case study for this. The ability that he had was never in question, but the support for his illness was, in the blokey world of football, not in great supply. I've never played at any level other than amateur football, but even in my experience I know damn well that the football changing room is not a place where one might seek emotional support to counter mental illness. If Speed was suffering from depression, then all of the reasons listed above are irrelevant, sure he had it all, sure he had 'no reason to feel sad'...that is not how depression works, just ask Collymore.

It is of course conjecture to leap to the conclusion that, if it was suicide, Speed must have therefore suffered from depression. I'm fairly sure the link must be pretty strong, I imagine that to make the choice to take your own life there must seem to be no alternative. That being said, if Speed was suffering from depression, how was he able to mask it so effectively, from colleagues and friends, and also perform so ably in his roles as manager and pundit?

The details will come out, I'm sure. The fact is though, it is ultimately a matter for his family and friends, and the real truth behind it is none of our business. When I refer to 'us' in this instance I'm talking about the wider world of football. We don't need to know the details of his tragic end, what we do need to do is ensure that the details of his marvellous and all too short career are not forgotten. The emotionally charged minute's silence which very quickly became passionate applause at Swansea was a good start.

Gary Speed, 1969-2011, RIP.

Arise, Sir David

Rather than looking at the English Premier League (Battle for fourth looking toight as a toiger, Wigan right to feel aggrieved) or the A-League (Brisbane a league apart) the weekend round-up this time is going to a new continent, with our first scheduled stop at Los Angeles’ Home Depot Center.

This was the fitting scene for the LA Galaxy’s 1-0 victory over Houston Dynamo in the MLS Cup Final, to clinch their first championship since 2005. Of course, in the meantime they have employed a certain English midfielder, and we’re not talking former Port Vale ‘ace’ Chris Birchall. For one thing, Birchall plays for Trinidad and Tobago, but you already knew that, I mean it's obvious, he just looks so Trinidadian. No, of course the focus of attention, as always, fell on David Beckham, who may well have made his final competitive appearance for the Galaxy since his much heralded marquee move in 2007.

I am very pleased that Galaxy got the win, because of the effect it has on Beckham’s CV. I’ll explain. With the passage of time, the number of trophies that a player accrues becomes the most tangible hallmark of their quality. Perhaps this will become less prevalent nowadays, as with the blanket coverage and YouTube fuelled easy access to footage it is easy to get some idea of what a player is like and what they can do. Consider it. If you're a similar age to me, chances are you'll have seen relatively very little of the England class of 66, or Pele, or Maradona outside of World Cups – sure I’ve watched hours of grainy archive footage of all the greats, but it is always from the World Cup. I’ve no doubt all of history’s great players have done amazing things in their bread and butter league matches, but I haven’t seen it – Messi scores a screamer in the first round of the Copa del Rey and usually you’ll witness it before 24 hours has passed. In days of yore, this coverage simply didn't exist or has since been lost.

Even with the prevalence nowadays of available highlights, I still maintain that when history looks back at a player, the clearest indicator of their status is by looking at the trophies they have won. This argument may fall down when you consider the makeweights in great teams (Hi, David May) but I’m talking more about when you’re telling your kids about this or that great player from a bygone age, they might be more impressed to see what they have won. Example: I have never seen Alfredo Di Stefano play, but as the main man in a Real Madrid side that dominated Europe for years, I can happily understand that he must have been something special. My Dad eulogises over some of the Liverpool players of the 70s, and with their trophy haul it becomes easier to appreciate that he may be on to something.

David Beckham, in my opinion, deserves to be remembered amongst the pantheon of greats.

He has probably never at any stage in his career been a genuine contender for outright best player in the world. Cantona, Baggio, Bergkamp, Zidane, Ronaldo (real and fake), Henry, Ronaldinho, Messi – all undoubtedly ahead of him. However I’d happily argue that not one of them, indeed no player I’ve ever seen, could deliver a ball like Beckham. There’s no such film as Bend it Like Eric (novelty adult titles not withstanding (‘bend it up eric’, ‘bend it like erection’, ‘bend over like eric’ there’s potential there). There is a fantastic video on YouTube that showcases a collection of his best assists. This is the key to his game, being able to put the ball exactly where the striker would want it, in a way that renders the defence helpless. The pace, trajectory and precision of a Beckham cross is rarely matched by any player around, and certainly not on a consistent basis for over 15 years like D-Beck has done. Even on Pro Evo a Beckham corner was more dangerous than any other.

My view is biased as a supporter of the England team for which he has provided so much drama over the years, I’ll acknowledge that. But you only need to consider the view from the absolute hall of fame that is Beckham’s former team-mate’s over his career. He has been in the same team as some of the finest players ever to play the game, and almost never has he been criticised. A hugely popular figure amongst his fellow professionals, which with his status, profile and paycheck is surely not an easy thing to achieve. Leaving the personal side out of things before this turns into too much of a bromance novel (he is clearly a great bloke though) the appreciation from his teammates is due to the danger that he brings to a team – Ruud Van Nistelrooy scored 25 goals in his first season at Real, 19 of which were assisted by Beckham (thanks to Will Cullen for that stat). As a striker, knowing that you can rely on such quality service makes your job that much easier, and damn straight you’re going to like the guy who continues to put goals on a plate for you!

England were spoilt for years with his service from set pieces, and we will miss him more as the years go on. Downing and Adam Johnson are both capable of the sublime in temrs of corssing a ball, but not in the same metronomic fashion as our hero. Furthermore his workrate and dedication to the cause have been impossible to question, which again is something that you will always appreciate and respect from your teammates.

The trophy that looks likely to mark Beckham’s swansong as an LA Galaxy player then is in my mind a fitting tribute to a truly great player. It was fantastic that he won La Liga as his departing act with Real Madrid, having won the fans, manager and club over with his qualities over his time there. To do the same with Galaxy maintains his record of winning something with every club he's been at, loan deals not withstanding (but by Christ he came close with Preston...).

What lies in store next for David is unclear. I’d like to see him go to Paris Saint Germain in January, keep up the winning tradition by topping Ligue 1 and then go out on the highest of highs, a Gold Medal with Team GB.

The Galactico's Galaxy adventure has now probably reached it's final scene, with the Hollywood ending that always seemed likely. Maybe though there’s just one more final scene to come from the David Beckham story. Whatever happens, I know that he will be a player I tell my kids about - and his trophy haul and YouTube can complete the tale.

Sepptic

Usually with this blog I try and keep my most controversial thoughts to myself.

I don't want it to be sanitized and I don't want to lie, but at the same time with my limited grasp of the law you have to be careful. Notice for example how I've not touched the Harry Redknapp tax evasion thing at all - obviously I've got my opinion on that but whilst these things are contentious I think it best to err on the side of caution.

Tonight, I'm breaking that rule.

Sepp Blatter is a complete and utter moronic waste of space.

Don't give me the 'context' or 'lost in translation' bullshit, because that is exactly what it is. Tevez has tried that pathetic defence too often, it just does not hold water most of the time. It's only after the fact, when one of these idiots realises they're about to get in trouble for what they've said, that they fall back on that excuse.

His comments about racism in football are, to my mind: incorrect, abhorrent, potentially damaging and so out of touch as to be laughable.

I've been fortunate to grow up in an era where racism in football crowds in England is thankfully, in my experience, almost extinct. My first game was at the Dell in 1988, but really I don't remember much until about 1994. I vividly remember some arsehole at Saints calling Emile Heskey, then a youngster at Leicester, a "diving black bastard" for which he was almost beaten up by his supposedly fellow Saints fans. He may well have dived, but to bring his race into it was rightly seen as disgusting, disgraceful, and unforgivable, and he was forced into an apology which was the only way he avoided a kicking.

That being said, I have witnessed through the TV countless examples of base, atrocious attitudes, manifesting themselves in monkey noises or horrible chants aimed at (usually) black players. On occasions where the governing bodies have taken action, the penalties have always been farcical in their leniency, it almost made you think they tolerated or dismissed this kind of thing. With Blatter's comments yesterday that players should take this thing as part of the battle, and settle it with a handshake, he is pretty much confirming that shameful fact.

I never accepted Ron Atkinson's argument to try and get himself off the hook. Normal decent people do not have the n word in their vocabulary (or the p word, or any other vile ones you might know). As angry as you can be with someone, you can drop a c bomb by all means, but unless you harbour those thoughts, you will not call someone by that name. If you do use it, you Sir are a racist. By showing his true thoughts on the matter, effectively saying being called a racist slur is the same as being called a wanker, Blatter is showing his complete ignorance. I won't go as far as to call him a racist, but I will call him a complete fucking idiot who has no right being in the position he is in.

Crooked, out of touch, and utterly incompetent. Sepp, your time has been up for a long, long time. The sooner you are gone form this role, the better. Football deserves better.

Kick racism out of football? Absolutely. Let's start by kicking Sepp Blatter out of football.

Anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering

I've got issues.

To those reading this who know me, that will come as no shock whatsoever...but the reason I am making this declaration tonight stems from the Internationals that took place last weekend.

Prior to the friendly at Wembley (that rhymes. Ish.) between England and Spain, I was genuinely hoping for a monumental thrashing of England. My reaction when reading the match report was actual, real disappointment bordering on despair - not only had we* won but Lampard had scored.

* With what is about to follow in this article, perhaps I should refrain from using 'we' when referring to England...

The reason for my treacherous feelings was, I told myself, to prevent another tabloid-driven hype bandwagon about the standing and prospects of the Three Lions. Every tournament that I can remember has commenced with many people - annoyingly usually myself included - getting swept up with the possibility that this just might be England's time. The inevitable failure has landed at various points along the spectrum from heroic what could have been's (90, 96) to abject why did you even bother's (00,10). The one constant though is that we have never won any of these tournaments, nor, with 90 and 96 excepted (21 and 15 years ago so the argument is valid) have we even reached the last four.

Based on the average FIFA ranking that England have held over this period, this is not a bad performance; indeed it is precisely what should be expected. Finishing in the quarter finals meant we exited with three other teams - some clearly lower than us, but often at our general level. With the exception of arguably Turkey and South Korea in 02, and maybe Greece in 04, I struggle to think of a semi finalist in any of England's tournaments that you would realistically have us down as absolute favourites to beat. Furthermore, our historic pedigree is such that we should not consider our chances as equal to those with far more in the trophy cupboard than our solitary yet wonderful Jules Rimet, still gleaming, 45 years on. Germany, Italy, Brazil, they all have far more experience in winning international tournaments, and whilst the players of the 30's or 70's have nothing to do with the Italians of 2006, that legacy surely plays some part in the belief, a subconscious realisation that this is highly possible: it's what we do as Italians/Germans/Brazilians. The one star on the England shirt arguably its there as a little anomaly: blimey lads, we actually won one of these things once!

Despite all of this, it is inevitable that people will convince themselves that this one is the one we are finally going to get it together for.

Since 2010, having played so criminally below expectation and ability, I had a feeling that this hype was actually starting to be checked. Sage minds in the press, even the tubthumping tabloids, acknowledged that we were not at the top table, and clearly were light years behind the all conquering Spanish. Other teams: the Dutch, Italians, French and Germans, were rightly heralded as stronger opponents with a greater chance of success in 2012 than our own team. Even Montenegro, having made a bright start to their qualifying, were given a level of respect and almost fear that would previously been nothing but scorn, ridicule and who-are-ya's. With that in mind, the last thing the movement needed was a win against the best team in the world, the current World and European champions, purveyors of the tiki-taka playing style that many purists find the most beautiful style of the game; a style to which England can only dream given their technical limitations. However, win England did, with a resolute defensive display and a clinical taking of one of the very few chances that the game yielded. Spain could and probably should have won the game with chances at the end, but they didn't and we won. Dig out the St Georges cross gear, slap Vindaloo on and rev up the bandwagon, we're the best in the world again!

It's not just that though. OK, I could say that I didn't want England to win because I was sick of the hype and would prefer for us all to go into a tournament with realistic expectations and that little dash of hope that you should always be entitled to. But if you cast your mind back to the start of the article, I didn't just say that I wanted England to lose. I said I wanted England to get thrashed.

Honestly, I actually wanted this result to be 7-0 or something as harrowing and brutal as that. An unavoidable eye-opener for us to ensure we know that we should not go round expecting to beat everyone, No Surrender, Rule Britannia and all that. Having reflected on why I would think that, it has dawned on me that still, even after all this time, I am angry with England.

The World Cup in 2010 should have been the trip of a lifetime, the chance to see England play in a World Cup match as the absolute pinnacle of my life as a fan so far. The dismal showing from England throughout the tournament was pathetic, lifeless, and dull - with so few highlights you could play them over the credits at the end of Simpsons and still be done before the woman shushes you. The nadir was the game I attended, against Algeria. I think, of the 19 World Cup games England have played since 1990, I was at the worst one. At least the defeats have always included a goal to celebrate, and more often than not some excitement. I found the Algeria game actually heartbreaking...what meant so much to me was being diminished by the second before my eyes and if it wasn't for Fatboy Slim live that night, I may well have done a Roebuck.

The continued presence in the team of the majority of those players, players who in my opinion have presided over nothing but failure and should be moved aside (looking at you JT and Lamps) only serves to keep that memory fresh, and the pain tangible. Furthermore, I don't know these people personally so can only go from the side of them which you see, but I hate most of them. I would not want to go for a pint with the majority of that 2010 England team, too many of them are, to me, scumbags. Maybe if our players seemed like more decent blokes then it would be easier to love the team again - and the presence of Hart, Jagielka, Walcott, Johnson (A), and the man who should be captain, Scott Parker is certainly a good start.

I have tried to get over it, but I just can't. The disappointment of that night remains with me, and I want them to know. They can't know, so I want them to suffer. At the moment, it seems like all the old players are going to remain in the squad, although hopefully this win will not mean the return of the same old nonsense about our chances.

I fully expect that when Euro 2012 rolls around, I will be absolutely 100% behind England, of course I will. I just think if the team had a younger, fresher look to it, without the usual suspects, that transition from my current hatred will be so much easier.

I don't want Sweden to win tonight, I don't want us to have a disastrous Euro's, and I would love so much if we could provide some excitement and maybe get to a quarter final or even with a good dose of luck, semi final. That would make me proud to be an England fan, which, right now, I'm just not. Am I alone?

You know we belong together...

A couple of weekends ago we went up to Palm Beach, the northernmost of Sydney’s Northern Beaches, which is well known as the real life setting for Aussie soap Home and Away. Never having watched it much – I was more of a Neighbours man myself – I don’t know a great deal about Home and Away other than it gave us Isla Fisher, for which we should be eternally grateful. That and the Alf bloke who must have been made in the same ageless Australian cyborg factory as Lou Carpenter and Harold Bishop, both of whom look identical now to when I watched the show 15 years ago.

The phrase ‘Home and Away’ therefore makes me think football, not soap operas. The classic notion, borne out by almost any professional football club in the land, is that a home game gives you a better chance, is more winnable, should yield more points than an away trip. Look at Question of Sport for example, contestants can go Home or Away and this determines the difficulty of the question (whether it’s their own sport or another). Another example is the Away goals rule, whereby a team can finish 210 minutes of football having scored the same number of goals as their opponent, and go through.

My question is this: why, in the Premier League, do we still regard it in this way?

Years ago, I can fully appreciate that the comfort of a home dressing room and conversely the ruinous facilities that you’d be subjected to as the visitors could of course have a significant effect on your preparation. Teams coming down to The Dell, Southampton’s beloved ramshackle old ground, would often look out of sorts. Having taken the tour I can fully see why, the Away dressing room was smaller than my studio flat here in Sydney (for a sense of scale, look around you. The room you’re in is bigger, I guarantee it). Another unsettling feature which The Dell and other old grounds had in abundance was the atmosphere. Fans were in such close proximity to the pitch that you could be heard by players – indeed in the bad old days this could create a cauldron of hate at certain stadia that understandably got into the minds of the opposition. There was a sense of oppressive claustrophobia, which made the pitch seem smaller, which affected the gameplay, and often unsettled the bigger teams.

Nowadays however, the vast majority of Premier League teams play in modern stadia, with varying degrees of comfort, sure, but by and large all at a pretty high standard. Indeed, with the luxury coaches or planes, iPads, laptops and all the other gadgetry; the journey is hardly arduous any more. You’ll be staying in a top class hotel, training in decent surroundings – there is surely an argument that for the first few months of his Premier League career, an overseas import will not notice the difference between the facilities at the Stadium of Light, the DW or the Liberty for example.

Of course there are exceptions – Chelsea’s recent defeat at QPR, and in particular the ill discipline they showed throughout could easily be attributed to the archaic surroundings and the fiery approach from QPR, added to by the passionate backing of their proximate supporters. If QPR played in a big modern bowl, perhaps Chelsea would have found them easier to subdue and would have been less rattled. The FA Cup shows this year after year, tiny little grounds where tiny little teams pull off minor miracles so frequent as to be almost expected.

Taking these elements aside however, football these days has a huge element of science and tactical input behind it. In any given situation, set play or not, players should know what is expected of them, where they should move, what they should pre-empt. A lot of Barcelona’s genius interplay comes not from 360 vision but from an innate knowledge that if I slot this ball through that gap in defence, someone will be there to run onto it. And then I move into this position to receive the return, by which time I can switch play to the other side as that bloke will have moved on.

Given there is this prescribed element to it, what should change just because the pitch you are doing it on has different colour corner flags? Just because you can hear the nasty men shouting at you, or the bus ride to the stadium was not as fun as driving in your own Ferrari, does that mean you should instantly forget everything you work on every day in training, and go against your entire game plan?

Of course, a team going away to a far superior rival will need to alter their game. Do you park the bus and hope to nick something, or at the very least avoid a gubbing; or do you slug it out and hope to catch a lucky shot onto their diamond studded jaw? This is a different matter though – that is a conscious decision to play in a different way based on the strengths of the opponent. What I don’t understand though is why, say, Aston Villa should play differently against Blackburn whether the Park they’re at is Villa or Ewood. You would see the home game as one to win, so why not the away? Why expect that a point will do if it’s away?

If this is taken to be the accepted way, that game plans need to change based on the venue, then we can’t blame the players, they simply follow instruction. In that case then it becomes a question for the manager to face. Why change things?

Perhaps it is the prevalence of this mentality itself that becomes self justifying. It is such a widely held belief, and so constantly backed up by one quick glance at almost any league table, that we all just now know: home games you win, away you hope for the best. Furthermore a manager is going to come under more scrutiny if his team play poorly at home; both because fewer people witness an away performance, but also because it comes back to this widely held belief that runs throughout every level of football.

For me though there is surely a case for asking the question, and I think that once you start looking into it, it unravels as something of an unfounded myth.

I could be wrong, but if everyone in football started going against the accepted wisdom and suggested that home or away are not the polar opposites, then I’m sure things could easily change. It’s happened before where some teams have had spells, whether at a new stadium or in a poor run, where they prefer playing away and their results reflect this. The pressure of performing at home becomes too great that it is a relief to be in a place where less is expected of you. My argument is that this belief is the key, not the location. If a manager can instil the belief in his players, so that they can go out in every single game and play their own game with confidence; that is the key to success. Set up the ‘fortress’ in the minds of the players, not in the comforts of the home stadium.

Home and Away? Same thing.

Quarterly Appraisal

After the conclusion of Week 10 in the Premier League on Monday night, with Newcastle’s’ excellent win over Stoke at the Britannia, the season is now over a quarter of the way through for the vast majority of teams. It seems a good point to take stock and look back over the first three months. Immediate thoughts, before any deeper analysis, are that it has been a bit of a mental season so far.

The numbers: 8-2-1-6-3-5 may look like an unlikely lotto winning combination or the dimensions of a most generously proportioned (and frankly disturbing) woman but they in fact tell the tale of quite why this has been such a crazy start to the season. The three results hidden in the genius Dan Brown-esque code above are, of course, United 8-2 Arsenal; United 1-6 City, and Chelsea 3-5 Arsenal.

For yonks, to be honest as far as I can remember, games between the top teams have always been tight, cagey affairs…usually with Man United edging it. On occasion over the years they have dished out or received a bit of a hiding, but nothing on the scale that we are witnessing this year. For them to utterly bitch slap a traumatised Arsenal with 8 goals of the highest order was something breathtaking to witness. To then have their own pants pulled down, on the same pitch, by their erstwhile joke local rivals was quite the turn-around in only a couple of months. The 6-1 was given a gloss with the 3 late goals, but the supremacy of the overall performance was in no doubt, and that result’s true significance will only really be known in May. Likewise the utterly entertaining (unless you’re an ‘art of defending’ purist) game last weekend at Stamford Bridge – the real weight of that result, and the truth of whether it does represent a turning point for either club, will remain to be seen. It was however a staggering result and a quite incredible game.

Indeed, the fact that Arsenal were so publicly humiliated in late August actually led in many ways to the 5 goal blitz they put past an out of sorts Chelsea. It forced Wenger into the transfer market, which has had a galvanising effect on the club and led to some extent to the excellent run of form they are now on (although more has to do with the world class RVP than any of the new signings).

Outside of these three quite extraordinary games, there have been many other reasons to raise an eyebrow in classic Ancelotti fashion. This season in fact has seen more goals per game on average than in many a year, and for the first time in ages the Premier League can boast a higher goal average than any of Europe’s other main leagues. Many pundits are of the view that tighter defending will now become a focus for managers, which will lead to a drying up of the goal deluge. United’s tight 1-0 win at Everton at the weekend may indeed point to this already creeping in, although Ferguson was always going to keep it disciplined after the 6-1. Whether the goals and madcap entertainment will dry up remains to be seen, I certainly hope not, but we can review that at the halfway stage. For now, we can reflect on a very promising start for what could be one of the finer editions of the Premier League show (now in it’s 21^st series folks, thanks for watching).

Three teams that should be feeling pretty pleased with themselves at this point are the three promoted clubs, all of whom are picking up points steadily enough and, although all having suffered reality check style defeats, are showing enough to suggest they won’t go down without a fight. The star pupil however simply has to be Newcastle United. Alan Pardew has dealt exceptionally well with the loss of some key figures, recruiting some decent, hard-working players who seem to have gelled quickly into a robust and focussed unit. The Toon Army have some tough fixtures coming up, but the longer this run has gone on, the more everyone has been forced to sit up and take notice. Whether this can be sustained over a full season is something I would have serious doubts about, but lest we forget this is a side who only two season ago were in the Championship, so to be looking so established again in the Premier League is no small achievement. It’s good to have them back, they are a club which I feel belongs at the top of English football…although I do slightly hope the circus element hasn’t gone altogether. Come on Ashley, replace the coaching staff with a pack of llamas, turn half the stadium into a giant Scalextric, something, anything…

For every over-performing wunderkind there has to be the drop out, and there is a pocket of Lancashire that has spent the first quarter of this season sat at the back of the classroom, gazing out of the window and showing very little application. The bottom three places currently host Wigan, Blackburn and Bolton Wanderers. As a triumvirate, they have only 4 wins from their 30 games, and their combined points total would put them in 7^th. There is still however plenty of time for any to make a move and salvage something from this season. Of the three I’d fancy Bolton to do so, they have had a less than comfortable set of fixtures so far, but for anything to be improved they need to do it soon. The last time Wigan took anything from a match was August 27^th, since then 7 games have been and gone which have yielded 0 wins and only 3 goals – rancid. Their next two games (Wolves and Blackburn) are crucial for the improvement to start, otherwise things look very grim indeed up north.

We’ll look again at the halfway stage which will fall some time around the end of the year, but at this early stage: plaudits to Manchester, Newcastle and the Noobs; jury out on Chelsea, Liverpool and Arsenal; middle blob are treading water as expected; but serious fears for the Hotpot Lot.

1-6. That must be a typo. Wait, what...?

The screamer in Edvard Munch's painting

Blow-up sex dolls

Those clowns at the fair where you win a teddy if you get the ball through it's mouth

Picture the expression on all of the above, well that's what I looked like this morning.

That scoreline, particularly on first glance printed there in black and white, is almost impossible to fathom. No-one, but no-one, does that to United. Sure, they've had some heavy defeats over the years - I've seen them concede 6 at the Dell many moons ago - but not at home. Not at Fortress Old Trafford, where they always find a way, they hardly ever drop points, they only get beaten once every couple of years. And once you get over the fact that someone gave them the tonking of a lifetime (quite literally, with the last concession of 6 at home in 1930) then you factor in the opponent - Manchester City. Of all teams.

Stunning.

Now that I've seen the match, the scoreline loses some of it's initial, mind-blowing, expletive-inducing shock. City were matching United for the opening period of the game, but the goal came during a spell where the hosts were arguably on top. On top, but not exactly looking their deadly selves. The second half, and the red card to Johnny Evans, changed all of that - United never got a sniff from that point on and City became more lethal than a Western Australia shark.

The movement they exhibited for the second and third goal was better than anything any team in the league is capable of, United on their best day aside. The finishing has been clinical all season, suggesting they will take chances even when they are not as forthcoming as they were yesterday. Balotelli looks to be producing close to his capabilities on a regular basis now (full marks also for the genius celebration), Dzeko has a happy knack of finding the back of the net, even James Milner is adapting to the increased standard around him with relish. The firepower they possess is unrivalled anywhere outside Spain, and in David Silva they have the outstanding attacking player of the Premier League.

This demolition showed without any doubt they have the attacking abilities required to do something special. It also however showed the resolve and steel with which they can now defend. Leaving Nigel De Jong on the bench and yet still comfortably dominating midfield; and with Kompany excellent (and cynical) as ever marshalling the back line, they are going to be tough to beat.

For me however the key thing that this match exhibited, which is the thing that should be giving Mancini and co the most satisfaction, is the togetherness of the team. When Chelsea first mounted a serious title threat under Jose Mourinho, they had a combined focus on one goal that seemed to be prevalent throughout every person at the entire club. There was a drive and steel that made the resultant title win seem unavoidable. I would suggest that City are beginning to demonstrate that same collective ambition, and with a 5 point lead at this early stage, they are going to take some convincing that this is not their destiny.

The league is easy to win in October mind you, and they will face many sterner tests in the months ahead. The result yesterday gave them the bonus of three points, and a significant goal difference swing against the team below them. That's the reality.

However, anyone watching this game or finding out the result must have felt the same shock and awe that I did. This was about a lot more than three points. This could be about the beginning of a dynasty. The squad they have assembled is frightening, the playing style they have adopted is devastatingly effective, the drive they are showing is irresistible, and the feeling grows, with every passing result, that the Blue Moon is well and truly rising.

Derby Days

This weekend in the A League is the 'Rivalry Round' where teams are pitted against each other, where possible, in a local derby. With the Manchester derby coming up on Sunday, and the excitement or otherwise of Liverpool United last week, it seems only fitting to devote this update to that wonderful footballing occasion, the derby.

A game where, for geographic reasons, ancient history, religion, competitive rivalry or who knows what else; the stakes are raised and passions are high. Position tends to be irrelevant, form goes out the window, and it is a game you would not want to bet on. Even years ago when Man City were one of the also-ran's in the Premier League and United were rampant as ever, they still knew they would be in for a game. Southampton v Portsmouth is always the first fixture I look for when the fixtures are released and we are in the same division, it's the one game that we have to win.

In no particular order, here is my list of five of the greatest football derby's - with a classic edition of each one thrown in for good measure. Let me know what you think, what have I missed, how could I include that one, why the hell don't I just kill myself, etc etc

AC Milan vs Inter Milan

Manchester and London would probably nowadays be able to stake their claim, but I would suggest there has never been a bigger rivalry within one city than the Milan derby. Two teams that for 50 years have been relative powerhouses of the European game, the pantheon of superstars to have played in this one is hard to match. The noise within the stadium, in particular the Ultra's behind the goal, is frightening - once watching on Channel Five I think it was, a bomb went off (well probably a firecracker but hard to tell) and the camera literally shook with the noise and size of the explosion. A famous European semi final that descended into violence, with Dida getting hit by a flare thrown from the stands is one memory, but for me the stand out is the Ronaldo years, when he was at Inter, Il Fenomeno always managed to score against Meeeeelan and in those days, with his status as the world's number one player, it felt like the biggest game around.

Barcelona vs Real Madrid

It had to be on there, didn't it. El Classico - a game with such a high status that it has it's own title, a brand which people around the world know it by regardless of their native tongue. The history behind this one and the allegiance with Catalonia vs Franco's Spain lend it a certain air of significance, casting Barca as the bohemians and Madrid as the imperial masters. Over the years that I have been watching though, the role of master has swung many times and never been irrevocably with one club - such is the beauty of a derby as fierce and famous as this one. Whilst I try and watch as much football as I can, whatever time zone I find myself in, El Classico is the one that I will watch every time, no matter what time it means getting out of bed or what social occasion I have to fake a reason to miss. The bitch-fest of last season left a sour taste at times, but generally this game does not disappoint - the presence of the game's two best players on opposing sides right now lends it that extra degree of further magic. As far as memories go, I'll pick Ronaldinho scoring two sensational individual goals, burning past Sergio Ramos, destroying Iker Casillas, and - in a moment which still gives me goosebumps - receiving the applause of El Bernabeu, a standing ovation that must have hurt them deeply.

Glasgow Rangers vs Celtic

Initially I did not want to touch this one with a ten foot religion pole, but you can't deny it's place in the list. The religious significance of the Old Firm is widely known, and far better understood by many more people than I. Having attempted to discuss it on nights out in Glasgow with friends, I realise this is not a subject to treat lightly. Way to blow the mood, Englishman. Leaving the deeper meaning aside and focussing on the football, this game often is played out to one of the most vociferous, cauldron-like atmospheres you will ever see. The fact that these two will always be slugging it out for the League title, or in some instances a Cup Final, gives the result a huge degree of significance beyond pure bragging rights. It may lose points recently for the fact that Scottish football in general is experiencing something of a slump, but for years this game would showcase two teams packed with talent and capable of giving anyone on the continent a good game. None more so for me than Celtic hero Henrik Larsson, the stand out moment I've picked is his lob at Parkhead which the ecstatic ballboys knew was in eons before it ever crossed the line. Dreadlocks, tongue out, what a player.

Manchester United vs Manchester City

In contrast perhaps to the Old Firm derby, this game has taken on increasing significance in recent years, since the emergence of City as a genuine threat. Previously, as mentioned above, this was City's Cup Final, whilst United had their own, actual Cup finals to contend with. Nowadays and in particular this season with the start that both teams have made, this is a big time, all star clash of the titans. It's hard to find anyone who thinks that the Premier League trophy won't be residing in Manchester come May, and these games - especially the one at the end of April, will have some say in the colour of the ribbons. Wayne Rooney's superlative winner at Old Trafford last season was one for the ages, but for me the highlight has to be the 2009 4-3 victory to United, with Michael Owen netting the late, late winner. I don't think I've watched a better, more exciting game of football since that one.

Arsenal v Tottenham

I'll let you in on something, readers. I actually don't think this one is worthy of a place on here. But, I said 5, so here's number 5. My reasons for the hesitance are two-fold. One, although the balance is swinging very much Spurs' way at present, for the best part of the last 15 years, it's been a highly uncompetitive derby, with Arsenal being dominant to the point of irrelevance. Second, for a huge chunk of that time, Arsenal had bigger, Man United-shaped fish to fry, and had arguably a fiercer rivalry with Fergie and Co. That being said, it has to be conceded that the North London derby is one of the bigger derbies in England, and certainly has been extremely good value in terms of entertainment provided. I don't know though, with all the others I've listed being for such high stakes, this one almost feels a little bit also ran. To redeem it though, I said it was entertaining and no game exemplifies that more than the incredible 4-4 Emirates draw a couple of years ago, breathless.

Honourable mentions go to: Saints Pompey of course; the Merseyside derby (AKA the Red Card Factory); Roma Lazio particularly in the Gazzetta/Batigol years; the North East Tyne Wear derby (Byker GROVE) and of course the big one, AFC Hamsey v Lower Kingswood.

Dishonourable mentions: Derby County, The Epsom Derby (not a ball in sight), the Hollywood Brown Derby (a hat shaped restaurant for the love of God) and of course the big one, Terence Trent D'arby.

Zed Zed Zed

When you really care about a football team, watching them is rarely fun.

Sure there are the occasional high scoring romps, cruising wins against lesser lights, or the end of season dead rubber devil-may-care logic-be-damned sunsoaked goal fests - but unless you support either of the Manchester or London Giants, these days are usually few and far between.

The normal experience is too tense, too agonising, too damn important for it to be described as anything even approaching fun. As a Saints fan (present glorious days excepted) the bulk of any 90 minute match was spent chewing nails or hurling abuse at opposition players, referees or, somewhat shamefully, mascots.

When a game rolls around that does not involve my team, that all changes however. I watch the game purely and simply because I hope to be entertained. I want to enjoy it, which can come from a number of sources - some 0-0 draws can be highly entertaining games, I'm not just looking for a 5-4 every game. Last weekend, a much anticipated football fest utterly failed to deliver that entertainment.

First of all, the woefully inept Sydney FC were comfortably beaten 2-0 by the admittedly much stronger Brisbane Roar. Brisbane Roar? Brisbane Snore. Sydney FC? ZZZydney FC. Making sleep related puns out of team names was my major at Bloggington University, as you can see. It really and truly was a dire match.

No matter, onwards and upwards lads, the night is young. Off to the pub we head for the big one, the so-called 'biggest game in club football' (never heard of El Classico, Sralex?). Liverpool v Man United. Hatred. Years of rivalry. 19 titles. Here we go, they're off, breakneck pace, lots of action... OH COME ON!!

A less eventful first half had I not seen since...well about 3 hours earlier, but you take my point. What an anticlimactic game. It came to life slightly after the Gerrard/Giggs goal - difficult to fathom what made Ryan create a handy gap for Stevie G to slide the ball through. Does he get the assist?

Hernandez' excellent equaliser was probably more than United deserved, or more to the point should have been allowed to get - Liverpool should have taken another chance to leave themselves invulnerable to the excellent poaching skills of Little Pea. Incidentally, his movement is better than almost anyone around, he will score so many goals if he remains at successful teams for his entire career.

Despite the late flurry, the final whistle came not with the 'and, breathe...' relief that can be the case in an exciting game, more it brought a general regret. We just spent how many hours and how much money on how much crap beer, and we get that? Rubbish.

As with my previous blog, maybe I'm getting a bit righteous - it's a competitive sport after all, not 'sports entertainment' in the dramatized and - brace yourselves kids, uncomfortable truth coming - scripted manner of the WWF. Neither I nor any other supporter has the divine right to just expect entertainment like some Roman Emperor lying down being fed grapes and watching Maximus smash up that tiger. Although it's not my right, I do feel let down any time I sit through a boring game - like I've given up my time and they owe me entertainment. I feel so thrilled and strangely grateful to have been part of it after a great game, after this type of dross I just feel cheated.

I think it boils down to my roots in football. As previously mentioned, I grew up as a supporter of Southampton FC during what shall be forever known as the Le Tissier years - with the effect being I was spoiled rotten with exciting, dazzling skill week in week out as a matter of course. Drama in spades - not just Matty either, the presence of Cantona, Zola, Bergkamp, Keegan's Newcastle - all had a sense of the spectacle, the something special that made football that much more exciting to watch. Not humdrum, not boring - maybe not as ruthlessly effective as it could be, but never not entertaining.

I don't think it's too much to ask that football provides this. To be fair, it often still does. Barcelona week in week out put on a spectacle the likes of which we should all be forced to look away from lest our unworthy eyes fall out, it's that beautiful. City are showing this year that they can play the good stuff, Arsenal for years have been easy on the eye. It's hyperbolic to suggest there is nothing entertaining any more, it's just a bad run of games that I'm on at the moment.

That being said, there just seems to be a general move towards the fact that it is too important, and costs too much money, for a team to be entertainers ahead of simply getting results. It can't be the way though - football relies heavily on it's ability to sell itself for big, big money both to fans and more importantly TV companies. For that, you need entertainment. I'm putting out a plea, in classic slurred Delia fashion...come on, entertainers of the football world, where are you? Where are you?! Let's be avin you, come on!

As a final note, my run of great luck continued - having blogged about that bloody Last Man Standing competition I am now out. With that in mind, having asked for more entertainment from the Premier League, and give I'll most likely be missing the Manchester Derby due to the late late Sunday night kick-off, expect a 5-4 all time classic thriller.