I see this blog loosely as a work in three acts. Vitriol, facts and lastly some sense of conclusion. So here she is…
What in the name of Norman Wisdom was that? A Champions League quarter final or an open audition for Celebrity Clusterfeck On Ice?
The Spanish seemingly played with a football but whenever we got a touch of it it became a greasy sphere of helium with a poltergeist trapped inside it. Peter Crouch, part man, part giraffe, part rich feckin‘ tea biscuit. Unfortunately out of all the possible combinations his brain was supplied by the biscuit.
I see some are calling for him to be sold. As PT Barnum is no longer trading perhaps it might be swifter to duct tape a video of his valiant efforts last night between his butt cheeks, cram to capacity his grinning toothy gob with polystyrene chips empty a catering sized bottle of Frenchs’ American Mustard over his head and have him sectioned under the Mental Health Act.
Jermaine Jenas then. Here we have The Wizard Of Oz The Musical in human form. Heartless, brainless, without courage but in fairness lots of mindlessy effeminate running, skipping and friend of Judy type behaviour. Why hasn’t he been sold before now? Let me break this to you gently – he’s so desperately poor not even the rubbish clubs want him.
So what actually happened? Let’s start at the beginning shall we? You and me were on innocently suckling from our second beer and we suddenly clock Jenas in the shirt. Before either of us can say get security!, it’s announced that Azza Blud isn’t well. In actual fact it has only been some sixty seconds since he shared his ‘unwellness’ with our glorious leader, Arry.
But this isn’t the first time Arry was aware of this ‘unwellness’ indeed; we are told that the player had been a bit ‘unwell’ for hours if not days beforehand and that it was the pre-match warming up that exacerbated whatever was bugging him. So that makes the player guilty of being a complete and utter idiot as he should have really emphasised to Arry that he wasn’t in great shape and the manager could have then given some thought to a Plan B, rather than suddenly changing everything literally, at the last minute.
If the little schoolboy wants to go to the toilet and fails to raise his hand until it’s already running down his leg, we should comfort him and point out how this can be avoided next time. But when a grown man does it and whizzes all over our chances in Europe then he needs help I’m not qualified to provide.
Arry is the best thing to have happened to this Club since Keith left. This may come as a shock to some of you but I’m not expressing an opinion. Beyond the 2 points from 8 games [t-shirts still available in the foyer] business he has been singularly responsible for inserting a spine into what used to be a gang of occasionally fun to watch chancers.
It’s been a subtle a renaissance, but renaissance never the less. Under Redschnapps we no longer rock up to places like Blackpool and lose because we had to goaded off the coach and then begged to go out and run around for a bit. We now rock up to places like Blackpool and lose because the wipe-board sessions at the Lodge focusing on cow’s bottoms and banjos simply don’t permeate with this lot. Best of Greavsie tape, anyone?
You cannot achieve success and yet ‘have a bit missing’ from your game. It doesn’t work like that. How much did Pav cost? And Defoe and Crouch? You add all that together and I bet you could go out and buy one bloke who was capable of routinely scoring goals.
Manchester United have Berbatov and Rooney. Chelsea have Anelka and Drogba. At the other end of the food chain we have Wigan and I can’t even name their striker(s). Do you see what I’m driving at here?
It’s not Arry that’s taken us a far as he can, it’s the players. So as some of you sit there with your grandmother’s locket in your hot little hand staring into a sepia effect snap of Jose Mourinho, the rest of us who aren’t subject to a Care Order will weigh up the next move in the real world. Jose isn’t coming – he only manages men.
Last night you could say that Arry was out-witted by Jose. But how difficult must it have been? You and I sit in front of these screens pointing out the same stuff week in week out. I’d be amazed if Jose actually had a strategy for coping with our strikers. It was ll about Modders, Bale and Van der Vaart. Once they were eliminated it was job done. Arry’s decision to play Bale on the right did half the job for them and playing with ten men did the rest.
Levy is a bold Chairman and frequently a wise one. But he’ll win nothing a children.
Real Madrid are another Jose side, another side of Champions in waiting. The Jose template is shrouded in mystery, charisma and magic. But what is there for a fool to see is that there are no insane individual error merchants, no children who cannot get to the toilet in time.
Levy will have to be brave and discount some of the players that must be sold. No one likes losing money, but the first step to making a profit is often stopping a loss. Jermaine Jenas is a loser. Jermain Defoe is a loser. Vedran Corluka is a loser. If you want to debate this, then fine, tell me what they have won. Also tell me when you expect them to start.
These players crop up in every team and whilst they look at worst benign they are in fact cancerous and for the good of the patient must be cut out.
So in the aftermath of all the weeping and wailing we tell ourselves that it’s time to focus on the League. A phrase that chills me to the bone. All the successful sides have been doing that since last summer.
We’ll win nothing with children. Nothing.