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.

You got to know when to hold 'em...

I've never been much of a gambling man. I enjoy the occasional night at the casino, but will never spend more than a pre-decided (low) figure which I'm happy enough to see disappear. I do stick the odd pound/dollar down on football matches and rarely get anything back besides a correct first goalscorer here or there, and when the Grand National or Melbourne Cup roll around, there is absolutely no science to my chosen horse. You'll be able to spot my pick by the way, he's the one who fails to emerge from the gate thing. Every time.

I know some people who have become borderline addicts, including a bloke who had to ask a loyal friend to reset his online password so that he could no longer access his betting account. Also I had some mates back in the first going out to pub's days who would waste an absolute fortune on fruit machines, when the rest of us were having a laugh, trying and failing with girls and generally enjoying the night out. I've seen the desperation in casino's from Southampton to Cape Town to Vegas - far from the James Bond Monte Carlo glamour, too often you see people spending money you can't help but think they really should be putting to better use.

The thing is, my aversion to betting is not to do with either of the above. I don't think I am particularly lucky, but that's fine - you pays your money, you takes your chances. I do think gambling can destroy lives, but so can alcohol and I drink more than enough to put me firmly in the hypocrite box for taking any kind of moral high ground there. My major beef with gambling, and I'm talking specifically on football here, is the way it changes your true feelings.

When Southampton were in the Premier League (ahh, the glory years, soon may they return) I had a vested interest in practically every game. You want teams around you to drop points, take points off rivals or do you a favour. By April it was frequently the case that other results around the league could be just as important as the final score from the Dell. This is of course true for any fan of any club - never does a team go through a campaign winning every game, so you will always have one eye on the results around you. Indeed only last week, Southampton's excellent 4-0 win was made all the better with the fact that the teams below us all seemed to drop points. Since August 2005 however, I've had no real reason to care in that sense about the results from the Premier League. They were of no consequence to my team and so I was able to watch truly as a neutral.

'Neutral' is something of a misnomer in my opinion, as in any game you will always have one team that you favour - sometimes at the outset of a match I don't know who that will be, but events take their course and I find myself rooting for one over the other. Other times I know full well who I'd rather see win a game, maybe because they have a player I like or are just a club that I would rather see do well than struggle, or vice versa. It's always pure though.

At the moment I'm involved in a competition called Last Man Standing - I'm sure you know the format but for those wondering: since the start of the season, each week you pick a Premier League team to win their match. If they win, you go through - but can't pick them again. If they draw or lose, home time douche bag. I've been lucky/inspired enough to correctly pick winners right the way through and am now towards the business end of the competition; most of us have played the big teams and are now reduced to hoping the right version of Norwich or Stoke or QPR turns up and does their job. What I have found - and hence this post - is that it has begun to interfere with my true, pure feelings about results across the league. Best case scenario for a competition like this is you pick a team that few others do, they win, and the other games all end in draws or shock unlikely wins. Last time out I knew no-one would have fallen due to the predictable and expected nature of the results, with nary a draw among them. I was annoyed, but then should I have been? I like Fulham so good on them for getting a 6-0 win, but I couldn't help think...hmm, a draw there would have knocked off a few.

It's the same with accumulators, countless times I've been in the pub watching Jeff and the boys regale us with the haps around the country, and witnessed the fury/despair of mates when a late equaliser ruins a scorecast and snatches back all the money and glory you almost had. Even, and this is probably where I need to lighten up and get real with it, I feel the same about Fantasy Football. I don't play fantasy football, I'm an abstainer almost like a conshie from World War One although far less politically motivated and probably far more cowardly and pathetic. (I can hardly move for white feathers). When a hated player pops up with a goal against a plucky underdog - say for example John Terry nodding in a late winner to give Chelsea a win over Swansea to use a purely hypothetical example, then as neutrals we should all feel disappointed, annoyed, even murderous with rage and hate. Then someone cheers... because 'JT's in my Dream Team'.

That is just wrong. It's not pure. It doesn't matter if the Rock wants to go get diamond rings or not, you're letting some ulterior motive cloud your true feelings.

I of course want to win the Last Man Standing competition - having got this far then the money starts to become almost tangible and the glory even more so. But there will be a big part of me relieved when, one way or the other, it's over and I can go back to just watching the games without any evil external factors whispering in my ear.

What do you reckon? You may think I'm alone here, way off the mark, missing the point and getting too righteous about it all. I know most of you reading this will probably have a Dream Team going and probably an accumulator from time to time to. So, are you pure...?

A OK

A couple of weeks ago I blogged about the ensuing debacle threatening to derail the start of the A-League season here in Australia. Thankfully, reason shone through and national team coach Holger Osieck did not select Harry Kewell and Brett Emerton, leaving the pair free to play in the blockbuster season opener last weekend.

It was without doubt the most sensible course of action, and with the Socceroos notching an emphatic 5-0 win over Malaysia (in which the highlight was the ref being chopped down from behind with a scything tackle…see) they go into tonight’s clash with a struggling Oman in fine fettle.

(UPDATE - just back from the game, a decent 3-0 win against a side that can play it around nicely but offer very little threat. Sterner tests will surely follow on the long road to Rio)

Unfortunately however, the marquee pair failed to create the fireworks and razzle dazzle that their new employers, the watching 40’000 in Melbourne, and the many more tuning in on Fox Sports, were hoping for. The game was played in a terrific atmosphere, Victory fans have their own take on the Poznan which allows them to actually watch the game at the same time; and there was no shortage of fire on the pitch, with Sydney losing a player in the dying moments after a brawl the likes of which we all love to see (but are supposed to disapprove of). The football itself was not quite so exciting though, sadly.

Moment of the match went to Victory keeper Ante Covic in saving a penalty from Brett Emerton which would have given him first blood in the Marquee-Off. Emerton struck it fairly weakly and it was just too close to the keeper, but the plaudits must go to Covic nonetheless. Later, his counterpart at the other end produced a decent if over-egged save to keep out a Kewell header that was part shoulder, part head, part ego.

Kewell carried himself with the air of one who knew he was the reason most of us were watching – without a shadow of a doubt he is the biggest draw this league has ever had. On the early evidence it was clear that his ability will set him in a class above the vast majority of his opponents and colleagues; the touch, vision, awareness and general quality that shone from him is all too often lacking in the A League. He will need to improve his fitness and probably learn more about the limitations of his teammates, but the early indicators suggest he will be worth the investment for the Victory.

Emerton is never going to show the same flair and razzle dazzle that HK can, but he is likely to be a solid addition for Sydney also. I’ll know more after my first visit to The Cove in too long, this Saturday when Sydney FC face last year’s champions Brisbane Roar who extended their unbeaten run to 29 games with an opening day win over defeated finalists Central Coast.

It is of course very early days for the season and whilst most pundits have picked out Perth, Adelaide, Central Coast, Victory and Brisbane as the main contenders, the thing that really strikes me about this league is going into each season, no-one really knows. The level of player turnover is incredible, most clubs bringing in and/or losing anything up to 11/12 players each Summer. This creates a large element of the unknown about every outfit which I must say I like – a failure of the major European leagues is the predictability with which their top reaches take shape; not so here.

That is not to say the game over here is a perfect model that should be followed – the way it is run leaves much to be desired, both on a macro and micro level, plus the interest is just not there at the levels required to turn it into a really competitive force, yet. But the salary caps and limitations on foreign players definitely make for a more level playing field, and that can only be a good thing. Right?

My balls have gone egg shaped

Forgive me readers, for I have sinned.

It has been one week since my last update, and in that time I have watched not one single game of live football. Not a jot. Some football blogger I am, I know what you're thinking. It gets worse...

In the past week, I have watched not one but two live games of rugby. Rugby. The wrong shaped ball that doesn't bounce right. Yep, I've done it, I've cheated on football. And you know what the worst part is? I don't even feel guilty.

The opportunity came up to fly out to Auckland to be at Eden Park for England v Scotland, and despite the misfiring radar and sloppy handling, England prevailed with a late late try to give the Scots their standard 'glorious failure' tournament tale. A fantastic little trip, superb atmosphere and euphoric end to the match which made the early start totally worthwhile.

The second game came in the shape of the Rugby League grand final, since my local team the much-despised Manly Sea Eagles qualified to play New Zealand's Warriors. Manly won with some impressive, dominant play to give just reward for the high season long standards, sending the utterly packed pub that we watched it in wild. Not quite the personal impact for me but still good fun and nice to feel part of a winning team (not that I need that right now, Go Saints!).

It was a brilliant sporting weekend, with not a round ball in sight, and so my friends, I urge you to have an affair on football. Give some other sport a try, there is no telling what positives you might find that Old Faithful maybe can't quite deliver.

The camaraderie in the Eden Park crowd, sitting in my England shirt surrounded by Scots, everyone drinking, trading jokes and banter and yet not a hint of trouble - that is something that football could really benefit from; why do we have to be idiots and fight each other over the team we follow? The integral use of technology, to firstly ensure the correct decision is made, and secondly give the crowd an added bit of tension and drama awaiting the news on the big screen. The physical contact that is really, genuinely physical - don't pussy about and give it the 'what, what' whilst backing away...if you've got a problem with each other, have a proper fight and sort it out. Everyone loved a bit of Duncan Ferguson lunacy.

Despite my dalliances however - exciting and dramatic though they were - I still found myself thinking about football all the time. The things that are better about football, the things that mean no matter which sport seduces me from time to time, I know who I'll always come home to. I can't kid myself, I can't fight it, and I don't know why I even try...

I love football, I have done for as long as I can remember, and I always will.