Choker Face

And off come the wheels.

Southampton, having been in the top two of the Championship since literally the opening day and outright top since almost as long as that, found themselves (as expected) playing catch up on Monday night. West Ham did the business in their home game to give themselves a 3 point lead, meanwhile Cardiff spawned a late winner to keep hot on the heels of the top two, just a point back in third.

Nigel Adkins' side had Leicester standing in their way and, with a sad inevitability that probably hurt more for how expected it was, capitulated for the second home game in a row. The 0-2 defeat gave Leicester the double over Saints, just as Bristol City achieved with their late December win at the former fortress. They have now lost more home games in the last month than they did in the entirety of 2011. Awesome.

In the light of what I now expect to be a painful slow slide down the table into the dreaded play-offs or even worse, I hereby dedicate this column to two of the biggest chokes ever seen in football. I figure this might make me feel a bit better, at least other teams have felt this pain.

To kick off the hall of shame, we'll go for AC Milan in 2005. Liverpool reached the Champions League final that year on a combination of against the odds underdog spirit and the irresistible drive of captain Gerrard. The tactics employed by Rafa Benitez throughout the knockout rounds had been simple - throw the kitchen sink at the opponent for the first twenty minutes, nick a goal, and then defend it for all your life is worth. It worked against Juventus, it worked against Chelsea...it didn't get a chance to work in the final against Milan. The legendary Paulo Maldini's 2nd minute goal gave Milan the lead and from there they asserted their superiority in an almost cruel manner. Hernan Crespo's sumptuous finish on the stroke of half time from one of the most beautiful assists you'll ever see was, as Andy Gray simply stated, 'game over'. Liverpool receive, and deserve, huge credit for their incredible fightback, a crazy spell of 3 goals in six minutes that had the Rossoneri in disarray. People tend to focus on the spirit of Liverpool and the masterful leadership of Stevie G but this column is about chokers and my word did Milan choke. No team in professional football should throw away a 3 goal lead, certainly not in a mere 6 minutes, and never when they are in such complete control. It was one of the greatest games I've ever seen, but let's be very clear...AC Milan, you choked.

Arsenal also felt the pain of an inexplicable cup final defeat to Liverpool, the Owen Final of 2001 in which they snatched defeat from the jaws of victory, plus there have been many memorable cup upsets in which defeat seemed impossible. Spurs against City in 2004 for example, 3-0 up against ten men, losing 4-3 in the end. That's in just one game though, half a game even.

Some teams have made it their mission to throw away months of good work over a few short weeks of choky goodness. Although I was too young to witness it first hand, the first one that springs to mind is Liverpool (them again) but on this occasion they were the ones with the questionable testicular fortitude. Requiring nothing worse than a 1 goal defeat to opponents Arsenal to seal the Championship, they managed to concede a second in the dying moments which incredibly won the title for George Graham's men. It's probably the greatest ever finish to an English top division season, but again I'd blame the losers for choking more than applaud the victors for their feat.

If we're talking throwing away titles though, there can really be no imitations here, we have to go for the real deal. Step forward Newcastle United, 1996. The Magpies under Kevin Keegan played some utterly exhilarating football, glorious attacking flair allied with a gung-ho attitude towards defending, they instantly became everyone's second favourite team and you'd be hard pressed to find any neutral who did not want them to win the league. They were cruising to it, too. 12 points clear after Christmas, it should have been a procession. Manchester United had other ideas, spurred on by the genius of Eric Cantona who was unplayable that season, Newcastle still just had to keep ticking on and not panic. The most famous defeat was the 4-3 'and Collymore has won it' classic - probably the fastest game I've ever watched, it felt like it was over in ten minutes - but the real choke acts came against Blackburn Rovers and Nottingham Forest. United got their noses in front with a win at St James Park, you know who getting the only goal, and Kevin Keegan never really recovered.

It was actually painful to watch, the stress famously getting to KK with an ill-advised outburst to the Sky cameras after weeks of the nerves becoming increasingly plain to see, pervading the entire club from fans to manager to playing staff. The Toon Army have never been close since, and this is surely one of the costliest choke acts in Premier League history.

Well, this was supposed to make me feel better - it can happen to even the finest teams, I mean if the Milan of Nesta, Maldini, Pirlo, Kaka, Crespo and Inzaghi can choke then it's no disgrace for Fonte, Hammond, Lallana, and Lambert. To be honest though, all this has done is proved how often things go painfully wrong in football, and I feel like I'm in for a long 3 months!

Hopefully this did not bring up too many nasty memories, and I know I've missed plenty (Arsenal every March; Brazil 98; Scotland full stop) but let me know of your 'favourite' choke acts, maybe sharing is good...

Why does my heart feel so bad?

On Monday night, Manchester City beat Wigan in an away win perhaps most notable for Maynor Figueroa's excellent 'you shall not pass' handball on the halfway line. The win gave City back their three-point cushion at the top of the league, following Manchester United's defeat of Bolton.

Paul Scholes of course opened the scoring in that game, thereby rubbing the salt into the wound that Henry had opened up the week before - never again shall I be cynical about comebacks, turns out football is all fairytales!

The focus of this post however is back to City, and in particular what that win meant. What I am starting to learn is that, to be honest, being top of the table really, actually... is not all that fun.

Southampton have led the Championship for months now, and currently sit top only on goal difference following a poor run of form that has diminished what was at one stage a healthy lead. This weekend they play on the Monday night, just as City did - giving all of their closest rivals a chance to move ahead. The upshot of this is that Monday night's game against Leicester City becomes a must win game, only to keep pace or maintain what we had.

For Saints fans, and to be fair for the majority of my life, City fans, actually winning a football match is that most glorious and wonderful of achievements; largely because it does not happen as a matter of routine. Premiership strugglers get the euphoria after a giant killing that is so great simply because it is so unexpected and rare. Relegation battlers face must win games, particularly at the end of the season, and God knows Saints have had plenty of them. The feeling after winning those games is, again, a euphoria - in this sense borne of relief and desperation; by definition if your team is in a relegation must-win battle then wins have not been frequent visitors to your club.

Being top of the table however means, actually, winning is something you kind of get used to. You expect it, many clubs basically demand it and fall into 'crisis' if they go too long without it. This is all new to me.

Winning a game to keep yourself top of the table comes more with a relief than a satisfaction. I have been trying to think why I am finding this to be the case, and I have boiled it down to the years of underachievement and lowly status. I fully expect Saints to throw away all their good work, and consider West Ham to be outright favourites for the Championship title. Because of this, it almost feels like every game my team does win is just delaying the inevitable, making it all the more painful when it does happen and we slip into the playoffs having been in the automatic slots since the first day.

There is so much pressure to win the game that nothing else matters, and nothing else is acceptable. If you go into a game, like Southampton and the old, rubbish City used to in the Premier League thinking a draw would be a good result, you are chuffed to bits if a rare win does come around.

For both these table toppers at the moment though, nothing less than three points will do, and for me that just takes a little something of the joy away from the win. Don't get me wrong - it has been an incredible 16 months or so with a team that is doing well, winning games and playing good football too...it's just that lately whilst we have to wear the mantle of league leaders and favourites, I have been finding the happiness harder and harder to come by.

It may seem (and does feel) somewhat weird, bizarre, perverse even to be essentially moaning about the fact that being top of the league and winning a lot of games is not as fun as nabbing the odd win here and there. Of course I realise that this is one hell of a time to be a Saint or a Citizen, and if either club can maintain their current position then for both it will go down as one of their greatest ever seasons. You just can't shake off the feeling that Fate is hanging around, waiting in the wings, to cruelly take it all away having given us the audacity of hope.

I would love to know if fans of United, Chelsea and Arsenal, in the seasons when they have won the league have felt like this - but I'd reckon it would be different given the long term success they have enjoyed and the belief that comes with it. It always seemed to me that those fans were the truly lucky ones, getting to experience the ultimate highs that football could offer, on pretty much a yearly basis. Maybe that is not the case though, maybe the truth is that being top of the league comes with more stress and pressure than you would ever have thought.

Am I just being pessimistic, am I tainted by years of disappointment, is it more to do with some deep lying psychological issue and actually these are Glory Days? I think the only true answer will reveal itself in May, and for those wearing sky blue in Manchester or red and white in Hampshire, maybe the years of suffering are coming to an end. Enjoy it? Believe me, I'm trying.

Don't call it a comeback

Way back, when I had the red and black lumberjack with the hat to match, I used to love a bit of the old WWF. Panda's be damned, for me that acronym can only mean the World Wrestling Federation and all the spandex coated joy it brang/ brung/ brought us as kids.

Increasingly so in later years, WWF was more like a soap opera than a sport - the real enjoyment came from all the behind the scenes storylines, the despicable scheming and skullduggery of the baddies and the downright greatness of the goodies.

One of the staple storylines that would always be a blockbuster for Vince McMahon's corporation was a good old comeback. Whether it be the return from the brink of death a la Brutus the Barber Beefcake; 'actual' death a la The Undertaker; or just settling an old score like the Nature Boy Ric Flair or of course the Hulkster. You couldn't beat a comeback for sheer drama, rolling back the years, coming back with a vengeance and proving to the new breed of punks they just can't throw down like the old school.

The Premier League has been evolving ever closer to the WWF over recent years - more often at the top end in particular the actual football seems to take a back seat to some kind of sensationalist plot or storyline. Most of the time this can be dismissed as the tabloid press stirring up a story to fill the inches, but every so often there are subplots in the football that can't be ignored, and could scarcely be conceived of in Vince McMahon's wildest dreams.

The comeback of Paul Scholes is one such unbelievable development. Last year at Wrestlemania he bowed out of the ring for the final time, an undoubtable legend with a decade and a half of success to look back on. He realised that he was no longer able to lay the smackdown like he used to and thought it best to step aside, maybe joining the likes of Paul Bearer and Bobby the Brain Heenan in a coaching/managerial role.

Now, suddenly, he's back and which is more he is straight into the action. For 30 minutes or so in the derby win over Man City, United fans got to witness the sight they had enjoyed for so long and pined for since last May. But this for me is where the plot turns sour.

Like returning to a beloved childhood holiday spot only to realise it is, in fact, a shithole; having your heroes turning out when past their best is more likely to end in pain and desecration than anything good. The romance in any football fan would love to think that Scholes, and for that matter Thierry Henry (who is slightly exempt since at least he has still been playing regular football and is only here for a brief period) can shine as bright as they both did in their pomp. Both of their clubs have injury problems which have proven to be the catalyst for the returning legends and both clubs are in a position where a tangible improvement could yield great results, so the scene is perfectly set.

If this was wrestling, Arsenal and Manchester United would make it to the FA Cup final and their two superstars would end up trading blows in the centre circle at Wembley until Roy Keane popped up and gave Scholesy a steel chair. They'd probably have the classic mutual respect legends ending too, embracing and then turning to face the adulation of the inbred hick masses that actually go to wrestling as grown men.

It's not wrestling though, is it. It's football and the reality is that football, more often than not, does not take prisoners. The romance of the cup is all well and good but in the first couple of minutes when Paul Scholes' poor touch led to City getting a second goal back, football demonstrated that it loves to ruin a perfectly good storyline.

Of course, fairytales do happen and there is always the chance that Scholes' introduction could revitalise United - proving temporary cover in a problematic area and giving a touch of experience to benefit some younger players. I don't believe it will happen myself, and if I was one of United's supposedly promising youngsters like Paul Pogba or Ravel Morrison, I'd be somewhat miffed at the old grandad deciding actually he does still fancy a run out and being given a go ahead of me.

In closing, I had the chance in 2004 to meet Jake the Snake Roberts, a hero of mine from my 1992-94 wrestling obsessed days. He was doing an appearance at my Uni, and I made sure I was in the right bar at the right time so I could be front of the queue to meet the great man. The overweight, dishevelled, depressed looking old man that stood before me dealt such a crushing blow to my memory of Jake the Snake that I really wish I had never gone to meet him.

For Scholes, Henry, and any other veteran player fancying another throw of the dice, they should seriously think twice before tarnishing the memory of all they achieved.

EDIT - Woke up this morning to the news that Henry scored the winner in a fairytale return for the Gunners. Thanks Thierry, for trashing my entire theory. It's a funny old game!

The race no-one wants to win

Figures vary from anything to £20 - £60 million when assessing what it is worth for a club to gain promotion to the Premier League. Whatever the exact amount, it's a hell of a lot of money and even without the financial benefit, it is clearly the place that all clubs want to play their football. Whether it's the 'best league in the world' (Gray & Keys, 1992) is debatable, but for any team in England, it's where it's at.

Given the riches and prestige on offer, you'd think the clubs in the division below, the gateway, would actually be trying their darndest to achieve the step up. This season however, as with many before it, you can be forgiven for thinking that no-one actually wants to win the Championship.

Southampton find themselves sitting top on New Years Day - in fairness a position they have held for around three months now. Quite how they have maintained this supremacy, particularly over the past month, is only down to the failure of their rivals to capitalise. The Saints lost their incredible winning home run at the start of December with a below par 2-2 draw with Blackpool. Prior to this, Nigel Adkins' men had won every single St Mary's fixture since an FA Cup defeat to Manchester United no less way back in January. That run has no gone completely with a shocking (to all except Saints fans who saw it coming a mile off, curse you David James) defeat to lowly Bristol City.

The two closest challengers to the Saints are West Ham and Middlesbrough, both of whom had a chance to draw level at the top of the tree with victory in their fixtures, at Derby and home to Peterborough respectively.

West Ham, who in my view should be overwhelming favourites to finish on top with a squad of significant quality throughout, contrived to lose their game at Derby which, following a late equaliser in their previous fixture at Birmingham, kept them at bay for the time being.

Middlesbrough, the beneficiaries of a few late winners themselves, were pegged back by an 87th minute strike to keep the scores level and, although propelling them into the automatic spots, also meant Southampton could breathe again.

The leaders cannot breathe easy for long however. At such a busy time of the footballing year (great, isn't it?!) the games continue to come thick and fast, and surely a continuation of the current stumbling form will surely see a new name on top of the division before too long.

But that's just it - Southampton have been faltering for some time now, and yet they continue to get away with it. Others fail to take the chance, the gap at the top has shrunk but remains. Surely one team must seize the initiative and make 2012 the year they reach (or return to) the promised land.

Whether the one to do it is the Saints, in a repeat of Norwich City's back to back promotion push; the Hammers in an immediate bounceback and a vindication of the money spent over the Summer; or Boro in a move that will excite precisely no-one outside a very small area of the North East remains to be seen. With the failure of any team to open up a mammoth lead, the chance is still there for any number of clubs, perhaps as far down as the likes of Leeds and Derby in 10th and 11th to clinch automatic promotion.

It certainly feels like the opportunity is there for the taking. As B Rabbit knows: if you only get one shot, one opportunity to seize everything you ever wanted, you can either capture it or let it slip. Now is not the time to choke...