Tag Archives: football

Uwe Rosler>>>Maradona

In recent seasons, it’s become customary for us to reach the first international break of the season and see a league table with United sitting a few points off the pace. We’d bemoan the lack of investment (which remains a net figure of ‘minimal’ since the Glazers took over), Fergie would say ‘it’s all about staying within reach’ and remind us that we never get going until after Christmas anyway – a fair point I suppose. Not this year though. Nine points out of nine and a goal difference of +10…and it was us who had the difficult start apparently.

West Brom was pretty much last seasons’ away performances encapsulated within 90 minutes. United start brightly, go a goal ahead and look like adding to it…the opposition equalise and then it all…sort of…fizzles…out. Except this time we managed to sneak one and fortunately got away with an undeserved 3 points.

The story during the aftermath of course, predictably, was David De Gea’s error. It was obvious the kid was going to make gaffes during the course of the season, but the relish with which pundits and commentators lined up to pen his obituary after one game was laughable. It’s good he’s subjected to this level of scrutiny early in his United career and gets these mistakes out of his system – get the realities of the job ahead and a bit of ‘siege mentality’ instilled in him early and he’ll be fine.

Next it was the visit of florid-faced fuckwit Harry Redknapp’s expensively assembled underachievers. Spurs’ downward trajectory looks set to continue given the evidence on view, with European footballer of the decade (November 2010 award) Gareth Bale especially quiet. It’s perhaps unfair to judge Spurs on their early season showings, as Harry’s mind has been no doubt been elsewhere during the summer. He’s had his ongoing (and strangely, largely unpublicised) tussles with HMRC to contend with as well as gearing himself up for the real highlight of Harry’s year: briefing that toothy SSN reporter on deadline day whilst hanging out of his Merc. “Yeah ee’s a smashin’ player innee…ooo wouldn’t be interested?” etc, etc…

That Spurs game, particularly the 2^nd half, hopefully give us a glimpse of what we might expect this season. Pace all over our team now, particularly in defence. Phil Jones looking anything but a 19 year old taking his nascent steps as a United player and Chris Smalling filling in effortlessly at right back. With Nani and Anderson having good days, Bratfud Tom buzzing around like the anti-Gibson, Young looking instantly comfortable on the OT stage and Rooney back to his imperious best…well, it’s hard not to sound giddy.

Arsenal arrived as a team in crisis, albeit one slightly buoyed by a decent midweek showing vs Udinese in their CL qualifier. Pre-match talk was still of ‘by how many?’ though, as opposed to the usual ‘will we win?’ No-one could have predicted what lay ahead of course, 8 goals and the kind of walloping we’ve seen on very odd occasions in the past vs relegation fodder is simply not what one expects to see in a United-Arsenal game.

The signs of Wenger’s increasing fragility have been there for some time, though this season he’s taken to frantically scratching his head as opposed to wildly launching water bottles about the dugout. Le Prof has clearly lost it at present – his refusal to accept the inevitable departures of Fabregas and Nasri, even as the former was aboard a Barca-bound aircraft showed the extent of his desperation. You could tell Fergie sensed what lay ahead last season, as all hostilities were ceased and he began talking about the guy in complimentary terms for once.

Wenger doesn’t look a well man at the moment – his team’s spectacular implosion over Easter has clearly taken a heavy toll. Yes, he has numerous annoying traits, (the best usually do) – but I can’t help feeling a bit of sympathy with his current plight. Although they’ve finished potless in recent years, to my mind he’s done a decent job in keeping Arsenal in contention, in spite of the financial constraints placed on him since the Emirates move. Much like Ferguson, he’s single-mindedly carried on with the job in hand, working within a budget of sorts and (publicly at least) claiming to be happy with his lot. Unlike Ferguson though, his recent buys haven’t been the most astute…they’ve been pretty shit in fact.

Growing discontent led to the shackles coming off on deadline day which lead to an uncharacteristic scramble for much needed reinforcements – the unfortunately monikered Mertesacker (sub-editors will have some fun with that name) and another typically Arsenal-esque, inconsistent lightweight in the form of Benayoun. Mikel Arteta might prove a relative steal at £10M, however.

Chelsea have enjoyed a decent start, and in Mata and Meireles look to have addressed the problems posed by the aging Lampard and perma-crocked Essien. Even if Torres returns to the player he was 2 years ago, I still expect them to ship goals this season. Terry has got by on a wing and a prayer for years now and despite winning plaudits last season, Sideshow Bob looked like an accident waiting to happen on numerous occasions. Comfortably top four again, but off the pace as regards the title.

A similarly bright start has been witnessed over on Merseyside, adding fuel to the collective state of delusional euphoria that’s been in place since King Kenny returned to reclaim his rightful throne…la. Last seasons splurging on Carroll and Suarez continued with the arrivals of Adam, Downing, Henderson, Enrique, Bellendamy, Doni and someone called Sebastian Coates from Nacional for another €8M. All of these and he’s managed to get rid of Meireles to Chelsea, who was by some distance their best player last season.

Dalglish has clearly decided to go shit or bust as that’s £100M or so he’s done in since taking over. In preparation for the moment the realisation dawns they’ve spent £35M on Peter Crouch MkII and Adam can’t last 90 mins, they’ve devised a genius way to deny they’re still not good enough: if you’ve not heard of it already, please acquaint yourself with the website www.rawkprof.blogspot.com, the home of ‘The Alternative Premier League Table’.

The seeds of this lunacy were sown on the RAWK forum, a place that makes Bluemoon or similar United forums look like MENSA gatherings. ‘Prof’, to much appreciation, came up with the priceless theory that league tables don’t tell the accurate picture of teams’ standings during a season as ‘they don’t take into account the teams played so far neither do they illustrate whether the fixtures were home or away’. In other words, when they are nine points off the pace at Christmas, Liverpool will still be top. I can only urge you to investigate, get the site bookmarked and check it regularly. As far as I can make out they’re being entirely serious.

Unfortunately our nouveau riche, idiot neighbours do look like challenging this season – a glance at their early subs benches was confirmation of the strength in depth they’ve now amassed. One only hopes that Mancini remains a precautionary pussy when the pressure’s on, Tevez and Balotelli take their fall down the pecking order with the good grace one might expect of them and they collectively struggle to cope with the raised expectations CL football provides.

Talking of the Champions League, a massive ‘cap doffed’ to the monkeys off the Red Issue forum who recently spent an afternoon registering on the official SSC Napoli fans forum threatening all kinds under the guise of being rabid Berties. “Your knives are no match for our bananas. We’ll be doing the Poznan over your corpses.” Heheh. Childish and immature? Most certainly – but very entertaining nonetheless.

A sobering thought in conclusion, though: City’s overall prospects? Top two and our main rivals. I know, I never thought I’d see the day either.

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Sweet FA

Doing It For The Kids

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When my son was born I didn’t buy him an MUFC baby-grow, nor did I name him ‘Cantona’. Similarly, I felt no urge to rush down to the ground to get him a membership the day he arrived, or record him as a toddler gurgling ‘Build A Bonfire’ and upload the footage onto youtube. He was always going to be introduced to football at an early age, there was no need to force the issue. The intention was to let him ask the questions and develop his own interest. I stuck to this up to a point…he was 18 months old before he had his first kit and attended his first match.

As for playing, it all started innocently enough with a trip to the park one warm summers evening, almost two years ago now. My son (then aged 5) came face-to-face with a mate of his from school. He looked at him in awe when he clocked what this kid was wearing. As well as sporting a full United kit, what caught my lad’s attention was the fact his mate was wearing brand new boots and shin-pads too.

Turned out that the local junior team trained on the park during summer and were apparently keen to get new kids involved for the season starting that September. I was buzzing at this news and so was my lad. All I had to do was get him some boots, fill in a couple of forms, pay £2 a week subs and bring him along.

So there began my son’s football career. I instantly felt certain as to what was going to be my place in all this. Other parents were stood on the sidelines barking instructions and offering encouragement to their mostly confused offspring. Ha! I was determined to leave any such nonsense to them, I was intent on being silent and aloof – I would take him, watch him play, then gently offer him the benefits of my considerable football knowledge and experience during the car journey home. I smugly told myself, ‘I’m not gonna shout, I’m not gonna get involved, I’m not gonna get wound up. People screaming at kids playing football look and sound RIDICULOUS, I mean look at the state of the coach there with his stupid tracksuit and his stupid initials embroidered on it. What a DICK.’

As time went by it became clear my initial impressions of the lad in charge were spot on. He was very shouty, clearly in love with himself and unforgivably dismissive of the less-able kids. Resisting the urge to share these observations with other whinging parents, I settled in on the sidelines, keeping both my distance and my thoughts to myself…well, for a while.

Over time you inevitably start talking to people and developing a common appreciation and appetite for the weekly madness being served up. With 5-6 year old kids involved, examples of sporting excellence are rarely encountered, although moments of high-comedy come thick and fast.

That first season contained some classic moments. The midfielder who stopped mid-game to make a sandcastle; the errant substitute who was found playing on the swings; the defensive partners spinning round mid-game, attempting to see who could get dizzy and fall-over first; the day when the goalkeeper was beaten twice because every time a tram went past he’d instinctively turn and wave at it. My favourite of all though was the game when the entire team decided to communicate with each other only by barking.

News arrived that changes were afoot. A civil war had broken out within the club (petty bureaucracy exists at all levels of football, then) and the upshot was that the present coach was leaving and our team had no one to take charge for the new season. Then came a seemingly innocuous approach via the smiley woman with the clipboard who collected the subs each week “Would you be interested in helping out?” “Errrr…”

Looking back, that was the moment I should have replied with a firm, “No”. Instead, my hesitation was somehow mistaken for interest and the gig was mine. It was like she’d tagged me, shouted “YOU’RE IT!” and run off. I’ve subsequently learnt that this is how most people get recruited, mainly because you’d have to be a mental to volunteer.

Luckily, my co-manager is one such mental. This is a man who has taken it upon himself to selflessly tackle all the demands entailed in running a successful junior football team. Communication with parents, updating the website, finances, committee meetings, scheduling fixtures, fund-raising – he loves all that stuff, thankfully. All I have to do is concentrate on training the kids. Thus far we’ve proved an incredibly successful managerial partnership. We complement each other well – he brings the motivation and boundless enthusiasm, I provide the cynicism and a deep sense of despair.

Our partnership has not been totally problem free. My attempts at projecting a Mourinho-esque, studied cool on the sidelines were almost obliterated when he went out and bought us matching Kappa tracksuits. I flatly refused to wear mine and a stand-off took place until we reached a compromise solution of Nike waterproof jackets.

The key word is patience, which is what I don’t really possess. I love my son dearly but I’ve struggled to bond with few of his fellow squad members. Spoilt, middle-class shits some of them – the sort of kids who got off lightly being named Joshua or George; you can just tell their parents were dying to christen something more fitting like Charles or Orlando. Some of these little snots are incapable of standing still and listening for 10 seconds, let alone appreciating the intricacies of the catenaccio system I’ve been attempting to implement.

Most of the kids are brilliant though. Happy, funny, football-daft, credit to their parents etc, etc. We get scouts down from United and City regularly, though for what purpose I’m not sure. They’re always keen to introduce themselves and show ID the first time they appear, probably so they’re not mistaken for paedos. The one lad we’ve got who (to my eyes at least) possesses genuine talent, spends most of his time doing ridiculous step-overs and showing off – you’d struggle to tell he was a half-decent prospect from a single viewing.

So now, several months into ‘the project’, I find myself in deep. As well as spending an inordinate amount of time pondering United’s fortunes, I now find myself looking up training drills on the internet and considering ways I can vary our warm-up each week. My car boot looks like I’ve recently robbed a branch of JD Sports and I’ve slowly developed the temperament required to nurture and encourage mud-splattered, rain-soaked, often-weeping children.

Overall I’d suggest we’ve probably reached the embryonic stage the present-day United were at back in September 1989, mainly due to the fact we’re regularly demonstrating the ability to win 5-1 one week then lose 5-1 the next…and our goalie is shit.

Doing It For The Kids – Part 2

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