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.