Flog - Hughton was Newcastle's dirty little secret; now spill the beans, Chris

Well well well. Just when we think they might have taken their finger off the big red self destruction button that they’ve been bashing for years, Newcastle go and do it again. The sacking of Chris Hughton, however goes a bit further than bashing that button. It’s more like a sledgehammer, and to the testicles.
In an infuriatingly deluded statement, the Newcastle board claimed they wanted somebody with ‘more managerial experience’ to take over, before thanking Hughton for the good work he had done at the club.
‘Good’ doesn’t really cut it though, does it? ‘Good’ would suffice if he had simply stopped the rot after their relegation two seasons ago; stopped them going the same way of Leeds, Nottingham Forest, Sheffield Wednesday and Charlton, to name just four clubs who have failed to recognise where their respective ships were heading. Immediate promotion and an unbeaten home record is a bit more than ‘good’, would you not agree?
And this after being overlooked in favour of Alan Shearer and Iain Dowie for the temporary managers position during that fateful end of season run-in. In hindsight, it’s a wonder how Hughton could sit back and watch Shearer and Dowie patrol the technical area, like the before and after shots of a risky medical experiment, without going completely insane.
And who are Newcastle lining up for his job, exactly? If Hughton could handle everything he did last season, plus a stable 11th position in the Premiership in just under half a season, including a thumping of arch-rivals Sunderland and a 1-0 win at the Emirates against Arsenal and with the lack of managerial experience that effectively cost him his job, then what sort of mental ambitions do Newcastle hold for their new man to attempt to realise?
Relegation was supposed to thump some sense into Newcastle and considering they didn’t just reverse their fortunes in the Championship, they did so in relative style, they should feel very fortunate to be where they are. And it’s because of Hughton. The players think so. The fans think so. What the hell have the board been looking at these past 18 months? Should the Geordie fans be optimistic about their recruitment policy considering the judgement they have shown so far?
Speaking of the players, how on Earth are they going to take this? Under Hughton, Andy Carroll has become an England international, Kevin Nolan has revitalised his career and Alan Smith actually looks like something resembling a midfielder. He’s not been bad in the transfer market either, managing to tempt Ben Arfa away from Marseille on loan and convincing Sol Campbell- who was playing Champions League football for Arsenal this time last year- that he still has a future in the Premiership.
Newcastle have treated Hughton like a dirty one-night stand, someone they were almost ashamed to have at the helm of their club because he wasn’t glamorous or high-profile, who did the dirty job that nobody else was prepared to do. Now they’ve cast him aside for someone who, I presume, is a massive name- it simply has to be to justify the decision. They can’t bring in Curbishley, or Keegan again. How about Allardyce, Newcastle? Might as well compile the idiocy.

Flog - this Friendlies farce has to stop, wright-phucking now.

Can’t wait for the France game. Should be a real crackerjack. An excuse for the newspapers to slate a midweek International friendly for its lack of worth, until we lose that is, then of course it becomes a depressing summation of the Capello regime and a indicator of how little talent there is to shout about coming through the youth ranks, how England will probably be ranked below 30th in the world come the next World Cup and might as well just merge with Scotland to form a super-shite ultimate team in time to maybe give the beach football European Championship qualifiers (West Division) a decent go in 2026.
I imagine it will be terrible. Wembley is still more impressive empty than it is full and will remain so until England host the World Cup, whether it happens in 2018 or otherwise. It’s a great, great piece of architecture but once you half-fill it with representatives from every company the FA can squeeze a tenner out of any pathetic notion of ‘England United’ is, um, a little lost amongst the bullshit, you know? Wembley needs competitive matches between competitive teams. Croatia are the biggest team we have hosted in a meaningful game since the massive arch opened. Don’t agree? Ok then, Russia. Not getting any better, is it?
Some of the players that will feature on Wednesday played Sunday afternoon and will play Saturday lunchtime. Samir Nasri has already voiced his displeasure, and quite rightly. This time next week he’d have most likely played a Champions League fixture, too, on top of the North London derby at the Emirates, a match that doesn’t exactly allow passengers. Seeing as he is one of only about seventeen footballers that the French FA hasn’t banned for thirty-six years after their World Cup debacle, he is likely to play.
As is Andy Carroll, which is where the argument of the game being totally pointless loses pace a little. Carroll deserves an England call-up and should play, presuming his groin injury lets up, from the start. It is a good test for him, but then so would any qualifier that England have coming up over the next 18 or so months. If he’s good enough, play him against Wales. What will we learn if he falters somewhat in midweek, that the tiny pool of strikers we have to choose from will be found to be one man lighter? Are there strikers out there that the FA are keeping from us who can step in for competitive matches should this less-than-drastic experiment fail? In all seriousness, I don’t know why there’s not outright panic at the strikers Capello has called up. Carlton Cole, lead striker of a team bottom of the Premiership that has managed 11 goals in 13 games this season. Peter Crouch, who despite his European and indeed excellent International record has never and will never be prolific- 51 league appearances for Spurs and 9 goals tells its own story. And I’m sorry, but Jay Bothroyd? Really? I’m all for bringing in players on form, but most find the jump from Premiership to International football difficult enough, let alone the Championship. I will take nothing away from the decent season he has been having with Cardiff, and I find it unfair that some commentators have put his goals tally down to the opposition’s pre-occupation with Craig Bellamy, but Barnsley and France are opposite ends of the scale, mate. Should he play, it is likely that England will have two target men on the field. Kick and rush will take on a whole new meaning. Gabriel Agbonlahor completes the set, of whom I am a great fan due to his direct running and having a decent finish on him, but it must be said that he is there in place of Bolton’s Kevin Davies. Again, decent. But not an International footballer. Jordan Henderson is an example of the perfect player to be looking at in these games, if there is one. He’s had under-21 experience, as well as almost 50 Premiership games, and he’s only 20. Him and Wilshire in the middle. No excuses, Fabio. No Gerrard. No Gareth Barry. No Shaun Wright-Phucking-Philips. And that goes for every game in the phucking phuture as well.

Flog - Mark Lawrenson's shirt makes Man City's strikers pull up their socks

The average Flog contains at least one of the following: a self-righteous assault on someone or something I have noticed and started to despise, the defence of somebody I might consider being treated harshly at the time of writing, one reference to Martin Keown being a crazed, skin-hungry murderer, and about seventy-two thousand words regarding the hilarious appearance or animal-likeness of somebody in football. Not wanting to disappoint, let’s talk about Mark Lawrenson.
Match of the Day 2 manages to round off the weekend action so well that it leaves the warm feeling that your week at work won’t be that unbearable as long as Gary Lineker and Colin Murray are at the end of it, smiling and matey and making it all okay again. Missed a deadline on that report? Here are some fun things you might have missed! Given a verbal warning for lateness? Here’s the rest of Saturday’s action! Debbie from accounts filed a sexual harassment claim against you? Here’s Lee Dixon’s tactical view!
This week, someone must have cancelled on the big white sofa because the ever-melancholic Lawrenson was drafted in, and by the looks of his clothes it was straight out of his bed, which incidentally was made out of old bins and dead cats. He would have made a hobo feel like Kate Moss.
Apart from the incredible exploding fringe that calls his head home, he turned up in old jeans and a shirt that was working so hard it forced Carlos Tevez to think about bucking up his ideas. Sadly the footwear was out of shot, but if I had to guess by going on the rest of his ensemble, it’s likely he had nothing on but a pair of holey socks with an oily toe proudly sticking out. No wonder Dixon was as far away from him as possible; he probably had to provide an analysis of the Man City versus Arsenal game with a big yellow toenail eyeing him up.
I know the Beeb has relaxed its expectations since the early days of dinner jackets and straight-forward, no nonsense haircuts but surely there is a limit. Ginola wouldn’t have got away with that when on the show, and not only has he earned the right to be blasé about his appearance, he’s FRENCH.
Furthermore, Ginola was charming and insightful. Lawrenson addresses each question on Football Focus as if you’ve just disturbed him wanking even though he put a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on his door handle. It’s a sort of sarcastic embarrassment at even being acknowledged, a surly defence mechanism that instinctively kicks in whenever he is engaged in conversation. It’s all very well acting like that with new boy Dan Walker and the nicer-than-nice Murray, but I bet he freezes around Lineker and Hansen. That’s not to even mention Keown (be warned, three times in a mirror spells trouble). Pussy.
Perhaps he has lost his love of the game. Maybe he was in love with Des Lynam until he left for ITV. Then, just as he was getting over it, off went Adrian Chiles in the same direction. His guarded approach to Walker and Murray might be down to not wanting to get hurt again. They’ll leave. They ALWAYS leave.
Or maybe we should all just be thinking, as a friend put it via text to me during the Spain vs Germany game at the World Cup: ‘Why is this cunt still on tv?’ Quite.

Flog - Karl Henry: gymnastics fan or simply very stupid.

And so it rumbles on. Every Monday morning, particularly this season it seems, another report of a player knee-deep in plaster cast after having their fibulas and tibias and bujibulas snapped by an over-zealous opposition.
This week it is Hatem Ben-Arfa laying in hospital after Nigel de Jong’s lunge left him sprawled out after only a few minutes of the game gone. Needless to say the Frenchman was probably singled out as Newcastle’s danger man and de Jong made his presence felt early with, in truth, a fair tackle, but completed with a devastating follow through.
The weekend could have been even worse had Jordi Gomez solidly planted his left leg in the turf instead of managing to somersault Karl Henry’s challenge at the DW Stadium the previous day. Henry’s immediate reaction to being sent-off was that of shock, either that or he’s an avid gymnastics fan and was disappointed Gomez failed to stick the landing, but has since accepted the punishment was justice for a disgusting tackle.
Reputations go before players in football. Wolves, Henry in particular, have been criticised this season for being over physical and masters of the dark arts. Whereas Henry’s leg-breaking tackle on Bobby Zamora was rightly deemed fair challenge yet a horrific accident, his treatment of Joey Barton weeks earlier could have easily done the same damage.
As for de Jong, it’s only been a matter of months since the World Cup Final in which he attempted to pierce Xabi Alonso’s nipple in with his boot. He is known as a reducer, a man prepared to not only do the donkey work but throw himself about the place while doing it. He’s not exactly the smallest of blokes, either.
I was at White Hart Lane when Wolves eventually went down 3-1 and it was evident that as a team they try and play football. They do the defensive necessaries in the process; Spurs had at least three creative players who needed to be closed down quickly otherwise they could have run riot. But they were far from dirty.
Look at this way: had Paul Scholes made either of those tackles, it is unlikely he would have seen red. It is often received comically that Scholes can’t tackle- I mean literally cannot tackle, he’s utterly useless- but it seems to be passed over. The argument can be invalidated by saying a man of his experience wouldn’t have made such an impossibly mistimed challenge in the first place, but he’s been there before. I seem to remember the bullet-like hole he left in a Swedish player’s leg when playing for England years ago.
I like a forceful game. If we take the two ends of the Premiership spectrum- Wenger to Allardyce- I would say, predictably, I lie somewhere in the middle. I was a massive defender of Ryan Shawcross when he buckled Aaron Ramsey’s leg last season because I firmly believe he would not have made that tackle if he’d have known just how much force he would produce on another footballer’s shin. Henry and de Jong just seemed to want to make their presence felt in a game where hard tacklers are fast losing a lot of ground in the debate.
Wenger does himself no favours when asking for lengthy bans for players who see red for bad challenges on his players, especially as he has seen (term used loosely) some of the worst from his own team over the years, and if you look at the teams who have got results against Arsenal in recent years they have all had an element of fierceness in their play. They come off with a scoreline in their head, not a body count.
Listen to the YouTube community, and they call for ‘permabans’. Listen to those who know and they’ll tell you quite simply that people like Karl Henry are just very stupid.

Flog - UPDATE. LISTEN BECAUSE THIS IS IN CAPITALS.

Right. It's been about a year since Flog was launched and it's going.... well, it's going. Updates are less regular than when Flog first started up but the pieces are more thought out and less likely to contain references to the health of Newcastle managers, especially now Chris 'Clipboard Chris' Hughton is in charge. I do things like research now. Mental.
I've just had a look at my 'Blogger' stats, and its quite encouraging as my more recent posts have seen more traffic. Not being technically minded, I presume this is good, considering the more recent posts have been among the better ones. Also, my activity map shows that the UK is where Flog is most read, then the USA and Canada, so thank you. Germay is next, so danke. Then it's Denmark. I don't know what the Danish is for thanks, so I'll just do what every English person does when faced with a foreign language barrier by shouting anything I think do know: THOMAS GRAVESEN, DENMARK. THOMAS GRAVESEN ALOT.
I'm continuing the writing but the videos may come later than first anticipated. Apparently, and who knew, you need money to do that sort of thing. MONEY! I bearly summon the energy to breathe let alone earn.
So that's where Flog is at. Thanks for all the support, it has come in various forms and from various people (and countries, Thomas Gravesen again) and it has been encouragement enough for me to continue. Plus, I kind of like calling Martin Keown a murderer every other week.

Flog - Fergie, Bob Marley and the angriest of all the kiwi fruit

If what the papers are saying is true regarding Everton fans’ prepared re-working of a Bob Marley classic into ‘No woman, no Kai’ then it is even more of a shame that Wayne Rooney did not take to the Goodison pitch on Saturday. That sort of wit rarely has the opportunity to rear its head in football. Fergie has denied us.
The fact that there potentially could have been thirty odd thousand Evertonians directing these lyrics at the striker makes a mockery of those who are bemoaning Rooney and his personal life’s status as genuine news. The snob in me agrees- there are far more important people in the world who are doing the same, and certainly worse- but the football fan in me knows that if it was my team playing Manchester United next, I would have joined in had a chorus started. For one it makes a nice change from ‘your support is fucking shit’, though that too makes it into my top 5, but mainly because it is quite simply brilliant.
Fergie’s decision to leave him out of the squad was not so brilliant, reasoning that the hot reception would be a ‘nightmare’... well has he not met Rooney? He has thrived on it his whole career and it would appear almost scientific fact that he plays better when being goaded from the stands, turning him into a raging bull with an angry kiwi fruit for a head. As a still relatively volatile youngster he had returned to Everton and excelled both in physical and mental strength and it seems the animosity between the two parties has even cooled in recent years. Surely a bit of ribbing, which even England tea-mate Phil Jagielka said he expected and might ‘give a bit’ of himself, though definitely more hostile than he might have got at, say, Fulham or West Brom, would have brought the best out of him as it always has done.
In fairness the result was somewhat of a freak after being 3-1 up on ninety minutes and then completely collapsing. The mentality of their defence was staggering; by the end they were defending so deep Johnny Evans got the bends, but you still might not bet against them going another decade without letting a two goal lead slip. That’s not saying it wasn’t deserved by Everton, but for long spells United didn’t miss Rooney, though it would be stupid not to question whether the game would have been put to bed had he been on the field. Fergie is no stranger to his players being the subject of hate mobs- recent history suggests he has managed some of the most talented yet controversial figures in the game- but it is the first time he has deemed the pressure too much. Beckham and Ronaldo in their times of strife held equal value to United as Rooney does right now.
Even more of a worry for United’s fanbase is that Fergie claimed to be able to call on such a ‘fantastic squad’ in this sort of situation. Though it cannot be denied it is better than most, it is not one of his best, and it certainly isn’t ‘fantastic’. The days of Beckham, Keane, Scholes and Giggs were fantastic, as were the more recent Rooney, Ronaldo and Tevez, and to refer his current crop in this manner suggests a rare yet very possible lack of judgement. Something about this United team doesn’t instil the same fear as those in the past. The intensity is not there, it all seems laboured when it was once full of pace and power. Industry has replaced entertainment, and though it can wield the same results, in short United look beatable. And now I’ve said that, watch them go and win the bloody Premiership.

Flog - The real shame is for the Wigan fans. Both of them.

So you found the World Cup boring, did you? Not enough action, huh buddy? Lack of goals a problem, was it? Was it? Well shove the start of the Premiership right up your girthworm then. BAM. Four-nil. BAM. Six-nil. A flukey weekend? Well then BAM, BAM and BAM, three six-nils in two days. In Chelsea’s opening two games they have managed twelve goals. Twelve. Count them. Twelve. It took the World Cup eight games via sixteen teams to reach that total, and was racked up with the third of four Germany had smashed past Australia. The gulf in class in that game was the reason for the gulf in score line; which is exactly what is happening in the Premiership.
Okay, so three of the high-scoring results have been in favour of members of the ‘big four’, a term even less credible than ever with Liverpool’s drop in fortunes, and one was against Blackpool, the sixth best team in the second tier of English football last year and who have Wonga.com as their shirt sponsors. Having said that, Blackpool were the first to dish out a thrashing this season, and one of the six-nil club is also newly-promoted Newcastle, beaten 3-0 in their first game, who beat managerless Premiership ever-presents Aston Villa, who won 3-0 on the opening day. Lost? Good. Because I am. I’m sure there was a point to all of this but I’m distracted by all the crying goalkeepers.
And has anyone else picked up on the fact that all these goals have been scored using a regular, normal weighted football? FIFA: genius.
My point, whatever state it is in at the moment, probably involved Wigan. I like Roberto Martinez, but it’s telling that one of the main reasons I admire him is because of the brave face(s) he has put on in the wake of some awful defeats. The 9-1 annihilation away at Spurs last season could have been considered a little freakish if it wasn’t for some of the comedy defending his team has shown since. Titus Bramble leaving in the summer seems to have weakened them beyond repair, and you can make your own Bramble-related punchline up about that. The bare facts of Wigan’s season so far state that they were beaten 4-0 by a team that was beaten 6-0 the next week. Gulf in class or not, how bad are Wigan going to be looking come May?
As for Blackpool, I do hope their opening day romp isn’t the best it will get. I neither like nor dislike them to be honest, but the whole of the media seem intent on patronising them, thinking it’s fine as long as they call it all the ‘tangerine dream’ and show the fans having a good time, which they are, but come the long winter and everyone’s orange replica shirts are covered up by black and grey coats it might not look as bright and cheery. ‘Look everyone, it’s the BBC’s Kevin Day coming along for your coach ride to Arsenal! Sing you orange bastards!’ If Blackpool weren’t associated so heavily with the colour, I’d predict mass suicides in the town. The tower would do great business.
I also feel sorry for Ian Holloway, who every week is expected to fulfil his clown duties for the amusement of serial wanker Dan Walker and his chums on Football Focus. Yes, he is prone to the odd mentally-challenged remark, and he is responsible for one of the greatest ever football quotes (‘not the best looking bird but you got her in the taxi’), but he is trying to prove himself in the Premier League, which is probably a damn sight easier when Walker et al aren’t grinning at you throughout an interview and waiting for you to go off on a tangent.
Or should that be a tangerine tangent?

Flog - Poor Fabs.

Poor Fabio. It’s all gone a little bit wrong for the stone-faced Italian recently. After the debacle of a World Cup in which England only played relatively well for the opening four minutes, Fabs is now being snubbed by his players and being left out of the loop regarding injuries. Ashley Cole ignored a handshake at the Community Shield final, though intent is yet to be confirmed, and Michael Carrick was declared injured by Ferguson on Friday, only to play the game on Sunday. It must have been awkward when he saw Fabio turn up; pretend to limp, wince in pain after 70 yard belting cross field ball…
Poor Fabs. He’ll log on to Facebook later to find whole photo albums devoted to a party he didn’t get invited to; ‘Pics from other nite! Crouch goin mental! LOLZ! xx’
His cause is not being helped by those who are choosing to end their international careers despite call-ups to the latest squad. Both Wes Brown’s and in particular Paul Robinson’s retirements seem to have been planned to coincide with their return to the national fold, rendering them both brave but, paradoxically, confident that they could play their way back in the first place. Poor Fabs. We can only hope he doesn’t have a birthday party planned anytime soon.
Calling up youngsters like Kieran Gibbs and Jack Wilshire hints at an experimental line- up on Wednesday and possibly a view of the future 2012 European Championship squad (should England qualify) but it might just be an attempt to win some friends. ‘Play with us,’ Fabs would say, ‘and I’ll play you centre mid. I’ll protect you from Pearce. I’ll give you my Haribo.’ It’s the only logical explanation I can think of for calling Wilshire into the squad on the back of a ‘good pre-season’. That’s like calling up a player with absolutely no Premiership experience and taking them to a World Cup as a fourth striker, isn’t it Sven? Poor Sven. Poor Fabs.
Adam Johnson is the only player we should be excited about seeing. He should have gone to the World Cup and if it is true that he didn’t make the plane because of over-excitement before his England debut against Egypt, then we should worry. Enthusiasm and confidence in a winger is as good as tap-ins for a striker and penalty saves for goalkeepers; it breathes life into them. Surely a major problem in South Africa was an apparent under-excitement? Poor Adam Johnson.
If that wasn’t enough, Fabs is also going to have to contend with a paying nation snubbing the party. Over-inflated egos and million pound stars will, occasionally, be twats. Its almost written into the contracts. But you, pie eating, beer guzzling you, passing up on the opportunity to watch England at Wembley? Poor Fabs (clever you).
Fabs has his work cut out to make it back on the social scene. At the moment he’s an outcast, someone England players nod to in the pub but pretend to be busy when he tries to talk to them. His number flashes up on their phone and they let it ring rather than cancel it, so to not look like they are intentionally ignoring him. Their phone was upstairs, yeah? They’ll call back. Eventually. Any minute now. Maybe they have no credit.
Because that’s just it; they don’t hate Fabs, they just need a bit of space. Qualify in style for Euro 2012 and it will be all smiles again, that is until Wilshire, Gibbs, Johnson et al burn out before the tournament and he has to wave goodbye to the job. Poor, poor Fabs.

Flog - Viva South Africa

So that’s it. South Africa 2010 has been and gone. Four years in the making and a little over a month in the deciding. Sadly though, those five weeks sleepily crept by rather than roared past as if they never happened. Africa’s first ever World Cup failed to ignite from day one and looked as if it could have gone on until Brazil 2014 and we would still be filling in our wall-charts with more noughts than numbers.
In truth; it was rubbish. Which was a shame, because South Africa deserved better. Not so much the national team, who, despite beating France in their final group game, were shambolic against Uruguay to effectively eliminate them from their own tournament at the first hurdle. Any silver lining they fathomed in the defeat of France was cruelly shut out by the coverage the visitors acquired with their own debacle of a tournament. But as a nation, South Africa provided a vibrant competition which was only matched on the pitch in disappointingly short phases.
We could talk about the ball but it’s probably safe to assume it was shit, always was shit, was never not going to be shit and was to blame for a lot of shit. The argument that a bad workman always blames his tools does not fly with me either, seeing as it’s the equivalent of asking a workman to work with a drill made of pineapple. We can also assume it wont come into weekly use in the Premiership.
Other than a summer fete football and the endless drone of the vuvuzela, it’s difficult to tell how history judge the 2010 World Cup. Despite the low goal count (1-0 was the most common score in the entire tournament) and the failure of most of the individual leading lights to truly shine (I do not count Messi; he is, after all, just one man in that team, and was relatively unlucky not to finish with the Golden Boot award, whether they went out in the last 16 or not) we can all take away the fact that, at this moment, the best football nation in the world won the best competition in world football. Though at times I found myself screaming ‘just…bloody…shoot!’ at the television, they stuck to the same game plan that brought them the European Championship trophy two years ago. Eventually, in every game, particularly the knock-outs, they broke through with passing football again, evident enough in their 1-0 victory over Holland in the final. The Dutch could have easily won it in normal time too, though their style of play was not so much Total Football as Total Wipeout. I was expecting Richard Hammond to be commentating on Nigel de Jong’s attempt at piercing Xabi Alonso’s nipple with his boot.
I settled for Guy Mowbray in the BBC commentary box though, who has taken over the channel’s World Cup hot seat from John Motson very successfully. It’s such a shame that he has to share his microphone with Mark Lawreson, who started to completely lose the plot towards the end. Sarcastic, rude and smug are just some of the words I would love to make out of concrete and throw at him whenever he speaks. And that hair. THAT HAIR. Can he not just give it up? Or is he still smarting from having to shave his top lip all those years ago? He seems the sort to hold a whiskers related grudge.
But not even he can compare to ITV stalwart Clive Tyledsley, who has rightly been referred to as ‘the Anti-Christ’ on a well known social networking site. I know because I joined the group. Having lost the excellent Jim Beglin to illness earlier in the day of ITV’s semi-final between Uruguay and Holland, Tyldesley began the inevitable and tragic descent into madness; talking to himself, making up talking points as if from nowhere and, I'm sure, turning to his side to share a joke over his half time tea, only to see an empty chair, like the untouched pillow of an ex-lover who has since left, prompting tears and a tender touch of where Jim once sat and laughed with him. His facts are irrelevant and his comments range from dull to downright ludicrous. Why, oh why, couldn’t ITV have given him 300 tickets to sell on? And I don’t mean instead of Robbie Earle either. Think ‘along with’.
England, Argentina, Brazil, France and Italy all let themselves down, while Uruguay, Germany and New Zealand -let’s not forget, the only unbeaten team in the tournament (thank you for the stat Nadir Al-Ani)- can leave proud. Though the other two nations can bask in their moment, the Germans will use this as a marker for their young team in four year’s time, and though Spain might have something say about it, they wouldn’t be a bad bet.
But it’s likely the tournament will be remember for exactly what it was; pensive, tight football matches which were drowning in tactics. Not losing became more important than winning, and 4-5-1 officially took the torch from 4-4-2 for football’s elite. Deep lying midfielders were suddenly stars, not cogs. And it was all drowned out by thousands of horns that sounded like angry bees. So lets give South Africa the least it deserves and judge it as it is on face value: in the first ever World Cup on African soil, the best team in the world won it, and will give it one hell of a go in Brazil 2014 as well.
But that’s four years away. And that’s exactly what we said in 2006.

Flog - England's Autopsy.

After the Algeria game last Friday, Danny Baker said it was typical of the English to perform an ‘autopsy before we have a body’. He’s right. But now we have a body. Though it might have to be identified through its dental records, because England were destroyed and hacked to pieces so fine it would make a member of CSI: Miami hold back the vomit.
Germany’s victory was no revenge; it was too simple for that.
The irony of England’s second ‘goal’ is laid on so thick it’s chewable. How far over the line Lampard’s effort was is perhaps a testament to how much the German’s hurt has grown since Geoff Hurst, the Russian linesman and 1966 and all that. Inches back then, literally feet now.
But that would be papering over the cracks.
During the post-match analysis the dismay of Lee Dixon was so clear it almost reached out and punched you like a Leona Lewis fan. While his hands covered his face, the second German goal was repeated for Hansen and Shearer to describe and cringe over. A man with 22 England caps- 4 less than Glen Johnson- was physically hiding from the defending England showed. Dixon usually struggles to get through any analysis without referring to his Arsenal days, with Winterburn, Adams and Keown, but there was no comparison for him today. The English defence looked like the sprint team for the sloth Olympics.
Gareth Barry showed exactly why it has taken almost eight years for him to be considered a fully capable international. His lack of pace was exposed with a simple attempted foul on Ozil for the German’s third and crucial goal. It would have been classed as a professional foul if he has made contact, the fact that he didn’t exposed more about the English team; we can’t even cheat properly.
Lampard was as flat as he has been for his entire international career, and Gerrard looked as uncomfortable as expected, being a central attacking midfielder being asked to play left wing and be the team’s captain at the same time. How can Gerrard be expected to perform his leadership duties when he is not even allowed to perform those most natural to him?
Rooney was subdued and has a lot to learn at this level. Let’s just leave it at that for the Manchester United striker.
So what now? Every competition England has been in for the last decade- perhaps more- has had a positive to take out of it. The emergences of Rooney and Owen in past tournaments gave us our silver lining- so where is it now?
There isn’t one. And why? Because the risk factor wasn’t there.
Capello failed to enforce his original regime of picking players on merit. Or rather he did, but the merits of years past. Gerrard and Lampard are obvious choices for their clubs, and of England teams of the past, but it simply wasn’t good enough to out-play and out-tactic Germany.
Ozil was a star of the last U-21 championship tournament in Sweden. He didn’t single-handedly destroy England but only because those around him were available to help. Can we seriously rely on Lampard and Gerrard when their insurance policy is Gareth Barry?
Martin Samuel of the Daily Mail raised the point that the footballing youth of England play on standard 11 a-side pitches from an impossible age, resulting in long ball tactics and over-reliance on physical strength. This system means in a decade we will have two Emile Heskeys up front not just one. Spanish youngsters play 7 a-side until they are 14. It’s not even judgement anymore, its fucking science. Good thing Trevor Brooking dismissed this argument then.
This wasn’t out golden generation; it was the Premiership’s. Spain’s dominance in the transfer market may mean England’s top flight suffer in terms of revenue, but if they really cared they would pump money into the talents such as the England national team in 2014. If not, the last 16 might be celebrated like Capello did for very different reasons.

Hart, Richards, Mancienne, Rodwell, Gibbs, Walcott, Milner, Cattermole, Johnson, Rooney, Wickham.

2014?

Flog - WORST. WORLD CUP. EVER.

That's right. Worst. World Cup. Ever. And it’s not an exaggeration, it’s just fact, probably. For as much as I can moan and complain, I haven’t actually done the research to back it up. You know, with facts and things. To make matters worse the soundtrack of the entire tournament has been an angry set of bees, which everyone has either embraced or despised, making the Vuvuzela the South African version of Marmite.
As for England, it’s gone pretty much as bad as we could have feared. It seems Fabio Capello has begun his first World Cup in the guise of Mike Bassett and Wayne Rooney, looking more like an angry kiwi fruit every day, has failed to shine in the way we had hoped. Hopefully he finds the footage of himself leaving the pitch against Algeria and publicly venting his anger at the fans as cringe worthy as I do.
So. Plenty of talking points, despite the awful negativity of the football and the noisy Marmite trumpets. Which is good news for television pundits, and therefore VERY bad news for us. I am suffering, readers. I cannot stand the drone of our ‘experts’ a moment longer. Though the mainstays of the sofas- Shearer, Hansen, Townsend et al- blend into the background of the BBC and ITV’s coverage, the new boys have been drafted in, seemingly at random, and have so far been less than inspiring.
With them come the co-commentators, who again have been a mixed bag from regulars to plucky newcomers. Here is a rundown of the best and worst from in front of the camera to behind the microphone, sitting next to Simon Brotherton, freezing their tits off at a night game:

Jim Beglin: the safest pair of hands ITV have in terms of co-commentators. Has had to listen to Clive Tyldsley’s endless creti-logues (cretin monologues) and has so far been able to resist throwing him from the highest tier of the stadium. Gets extra bonus points purely for not being David Pleat.

Craig Burley: brought over from ESPN with his mate Jon Champion and the partnership works. Joked during the Netherlands v Japan game about getting a Vuvuzela for the kids which led to mild flirting with Champion. Watch this space.

Edgar Davids: seems to have spent most of the time sliding further down his chair. Choice of trousers questionable. Glasses are so 2004. Has offered little by way of tactical know-how but spent most of his career kicking people in the air so comes as little surprise.

Emmanuel Adebayor: WHAT?

Chris Coleman: WHY?

Mark Bright: the worst thing to ever happen to television. Gasps at everything, talks over the main commentator, patronises smaller nations and criticises major ones when they don’t do things EXACTLY how he wants. Makes random noises at every available opportunity. Best quote: ‘The ball’s gone out. Now Australia need to defend. It did go out didn’t it? Is it a corner? A throw? Yeah, thought so, a throw. I thought he’d given a corner.’ Smug and irrelevant. Unaware that he probably has no friends.

Patrick Vieira: calm. Almost too calm. Talks as if being permanently massaged. Seems to be there simply to seduce Adrian Chiles into sticking to the point. Failed this far.

Clarence Seedorf: excellent, excellent, excellent. Articulate and natural. The opposite of Bright, happily.

Mick McCarthy: accusing the current World Champions Italy of playing ‘parasitic football’ puts you top of my list, Mick. Honest with a hint of mental illness.

Robbie Earle: whoops. Probably bored ITV and FIFA chiefs half to death. Easier to sack than keep. Awful and gave perfect excuse to get rid after a 7 year slog of melancholy.

Let’s hope the football picks up…

Flog - Claridge: Glued.

In all the excitement of the end of season battles, here are some news stories you may have missed in the world of football recently.

FA applauds ‘loving’ fans

As the race intensifies to host the World Cup in 2018, the English FA has praised fans of clubs all over the country for the ‘loving and close relationship’ they have with their teams. National Game representative Dave Henson called on FIFA to look at the recent game between Sheffield Wednesday and Crystal Palace and use it as an example of how the average English football supporter conducts them self, saying how ‘despite one of the two teams going down as a result of the match, it didn’t stop many of the crowd trying to reach one another to shake hands’. However, Henson continued: ‘I’m unsure how FIFA will see it, but knowing them, probably in a bad light. They see any crowd movement as bad, whereas we like to assess the facts and not blindly stab at conclusions’.

Sky Sports discovers new colour

Sensational rumours emerging from BSkyB last night suggest the network’s main sports coverage channel, Sky Sports, has discovered a new shade of colour in time to use it in advertising for the midweek game between Manchester City and Tottenham. A spokesperson said: ‘We had to find a new hue for the game, it’s just too massive to use lime green or pastel blue or something. They worked through Sunday night. As soon as they saw it, they knew it was going to be a huge hit in the advertising world’. Asked to describe the colour, she struggled: ‘It’s like a gold, but less shiny, but definitely more shiny than silver, and white doesn’t quite cover it because it’s so dark, but it’s definitely up there with platinum. It just looks so expensive’.
The colour is now being used in the production of Sky Sport’s tri-minutely adverts for the City v Spurs game on Wednesday. ‘It looks great,’ said Tottenham boss Harry Redknapp, ‘it’s good to see they’ve really concentrated on the coverage rather than the game. People are being paid well for a great job.’

Steve Claridge exclusive

BBC pundit Steve Claridge has revealed how he has been glued to his chair in the Football League Show studio. Asked as to why he always looked so tense and bitter when on the show, Claridge told the News of the World: ‘I didn’t read the small print in my contract, it’s as simple as that. They sat me down on the first week of the show and I’ve been here ever since.’ When questioned why he hadn’t protested the move, the former journeyman forward said he has been told that ‘as soon as Martin Keown makes a mistake’ he will take the hot seat on Match of the Day. ‘By mistake, they told me it could mean either a slip up in words or as soon as the police find the bodies’ Claridge said.

Flog - The Smiths + Hull City = SAD FACE.

Some news stories from the world of football that you may have missed this week:

Dimitar Berbatov sued by The Smiths

Manchester United striker Dimitar Berbatov is soon to be stripped of his melancholic personality should a lawsuit led by 1980’s band The Smiths succeed. The dispute came to light after lead singer Morrissey, 50, laid claim to the downcast emotion’s image rights and it is thought he has consulted legal aid in order to stop the Bulgarian feeling it altogether. Berbatov has repeatedly been shown sulking, whinging and moaning in recent months as his United career continues to stall.
‘All we want is to have what is rightfully ours,’ Morrissey told the Daily Mail. He confirmed; ‘That might mean taking Dimitar to court, yes’. When asked what time frame is to be expected over the decision, it is reported that he simply said ‘now’ and that he ‘had already waited too long’.
The move is likely to spark a flurry of similar claims throughout football. Within hours of the story breaking last night, rumours that emerged ranged from Tory peers suing Brian Laws over ridiculous promotions to Holby City taking Blackburn Rovers to court over the sense of boredom. ‘It’s nonsense,’ Laws told Sky Sports News, ‘I completely deserve to be in the position I am, as do Burnley Football Club.’

Dowie: The Football Management Consultant

Interim Hull City coach Ian Dowie has revealed he has considered taking managing roles that are longer than ten games. The former defender has now coached 4 different clubs in the Premier League, all with disastrous results, and Dowie has wanted to put the record straight with each relegation. After leading Crystal Palace to promotion, Dowie saw them immediately return to the Championship and since then he has overseen Charlton Athletic, Newcastle United and now Hull City fall from the top division.
‘I don’t think I’ve been given a long enough chance at any club,’ said Dowie. ‘Clubs that are in crisis repeatedly, somewhat inexplicably, turn to me to help them out. Four clubs have been relegated with me at the helm for some period of the season- that says a lot for my credentials.’
Hull City’s relegation is all but confirmed with, amongst other factors, their awful and unassailable goal difference condemning them to the Championship. ‘We are happy for Dowie to continue- we would be doing the world of football a huge favour by keeping him in the club’ said their Chairman, Adam Pearson.

Flog - Terry, Wembley, Harry, Ugly.

Some stories from the world of football that you may have missed:

John Terry eats child

Ex-England Captain and serial penis put-er-about-er John Terry has been further disgraced this week as several newspapers report spotting him eating a toddler in a London restaurant. The child, thought to be aged between three and six and who can not be named, was induced after Terry’s main meal took too long to be cooked. ‘He was so calm,’ said one onlooker, ‘I checked the menu to see if raw infant was a dish, and was even more shocked when I discovered it wasn’t. He just seemed so hungry.’ Despite an apparently large appetite, Terry was unable to eat past the child’s shins, leaving two stumps of leg for the press to get hold of and sell for thousands of pounds. The child’s mother is in talks with Max Clifford over a possible front-page story and ITV drama series. Terry has refused to comment tonight.

FA Cup Final to be played at 58 Evans Close

Sensational news from FA headquarters in Soho as Lord Triesman announces the FA Cup Final venue has been changed to Kent resident Edna Penick’s back garden, less than a month before it is due to be played. ‘Out of all the venues, 58 Evans Close seemed the obvious choice’, Triesman told the Sunday Times. ‘After several complaints about the pitch at Wembley, we chose a ground we thought would be in the best interest of both clubs playing in the final’. Ms. Penick’s garden was chosen after she told FA officials that she has ‘never’ slipped over and that she has catered for large groups of people before. ‘Never 90,000’, said the 73 year old, ‘but Christmas certainly is strenuous’. Portsmouth manager Avram Grant and Chelsea boss Carlo Ancelotti have both reacted to the news by installing ponds at their respective training grounds. ‘Just to be sure’, said Grant.

Redknapp defends unofficial player ‘sackings’

Spurs boss Harry Redknapp has denied making ‘mountains out of molehills’ when it comes to minor discrepancies within his squad in the wake of David Bentley being put up for sale for taking the last biscuit during a team lunch on Tuesday. Speaking at the Spurs Lodge training ground immediately after the incident, Redknapp told reporters: ‘Unfortunately, despite being a great lad, you know, David should realise he can’t do this sort of thing as a player.’ He continued: ‘Kids look up to him and they’ll be pinching the last biscuit off everyone’s plates now, so David unfortunately wont be playing for Tottenham again, certainly not in the near future. It’s a shame, like I said he’s a great lad. Always first on the training ground, last off it. It’s unfortunate, but you don’t take the last biscuit. Not at my club. Two points, eight games, and he goes and does that’. Bentley’s effective ‘sacking’ comes after striker Robbie Keane was sent on loan to Celtic to ‘think about what he’s done’ for parking his car in in Redknapp’s parking space, whereas full-back Benoit Essou-Ekotto was sent home early when the manager found out he used his pen to sign an autograph. ‘A biro is a biro,’, Redknapp told Football Focus.

Kuyt opens floodgates for other Premiership stars and comes clean: ‘I’m not real’.

Ex-decent striker-cum-winger Dirk Kuyt has laid to rest years of speculation by admitting he is actually not a real human. ‘I’m no animal, I’m just simply not real’ said the Dutchman. ‘I am technically more boar than man’. Kuyt was speaking in a frank press conference set up by Rafa Benitez to help shift focus off Liverpool’s terrible season however it is thought many more Premiership stars may soon follow Kuyt’s lead. Mounting reports are suggesting that Spurs midfielder Wilson Palacios is actually a hippo and veteran defender Gary Neville has just been a number of cats taped together for his entire career, whereas Blackburn’s Christopher Samba has been rumoured not to be living at all and is in fact just a caravan in a pair of shorts. Rovers’ manager Sam Allardyce was unavailable for comment last night but is thought to have booked an urgent meeting with the defender in a warehouse just outside Blackburn.

Flog - In Other News...

Some news stories you may have missed from the world of football recently:

Jamie O’Hara declares he ‘hopes some of the Spurs team die’.

On-loan Portsmouth midfielder has ‘let down’ his parent club Tottenham by declaring he ‘hopes some, not all, of the team die, so I can get a game’. Club manager Harry Redknapp said; ‘I understand where Jamie is coming from, but he’s got to remember he’s still a Tottenham player, and I’ll have a word with him about it. He’s a smashing lad, really t’riffic, but this a bit much.’ O’Hara later said he could ‘see where confusion may have happened’.

Portsmouth publish chocolate financial documents

Stricken Premiership basement club Portsmouth have finally released statements regarding their financial year, however they have had to carve the figures into chocolate. They are thought to be ranging from Dairy Milk to Twix bars and are believed to have been left by Ali al-Faraj, the club’s second owner of this season. Manager Avram Grant stated that al-Faraj ‘must have spent all his money on confectionary rather than investing in the future of the club’ and that producing the figures on the bars was their way of ‘getting some revenge’. al-Faraj was unavailable to comment yesterday but was said to be looking ‘sad’ when leaving his mansion in the early hours. ‘He had a chocolate dream for Pompey’ said one of his advisors, ‘he thought it would entice players in’.

Wenger launches new campaign

Netball-theorist Arsene Wenger has teamed up with the Daily Mirror to kick-start the War Against Tackling campaign in the hope that all slides, shoulder barges and general contact will be wiped from the sport within the next decade. Wenger said; ‘I’m so happy an established British newspaper like the Mirror has pledged it’s support for this cause. They have done so much for other issues, like their ‘No means No’ campaign against sexual assault, that they seemed the obvious choice.’ It is thought the newspaper narrowly beat a bid from the Daily Mail due to ‘numerous cultural differences’ between the club’s playing staff and every one of the ideologies the newspaper holds.

Dean Windass announces retirement from speaking

Former Bradford and Hull forward Dean Windass has sensationally retired from all forms of speech after repeatedly struggling to form coherent sentences in the past few months. ‘The time’s right,’ he told Sky Sports News. ‘Football was…good…but speaking was the next thing best, so I went into television and…stuff…’ Clearly emotional, his last words of the press conference simply read ‘I wont speak again, starting NOW. Except that. Except that as well. From when I say now, okay? NOW.’ Windass is looking into coaching roles in deaf schools.

Messi cuts self, world debt in half

Barcelona wide man Lionel Messi was left as ‘stunned as everyone else’ when doctors told him his blood can cure disease, cause inflation-resistant currency increases and that he ‘sweats world peace regularly.’ Messi told La Marca; ‘I was so shocked, I just sat and smiled really nicely, it was so lovely to know I could do all this, and as a midget as well.’ Doctors discovered the amazing feat after Messi suffered a mild graze on his knee when playing on the swings in his local park. ‘I thought it was infected’, claimed the Argentine, ‘but it turns out the green was just a crikey-load of US Dollars’. The UN has given him free roam of the world, effective immediately.

Flog - No foot rubbing front pages from The Sun this time, Becks

It’s pretty hard to imagine what goes through the head of any player when they are ruled out of a major International competition, but David Beckham must be wondering exactly what he has done to upset the World Cup.
Granted, when he looks back at his World Cup experiences, he can boast scoring in all three of them and captaining his country in two.
But it might be the other memories that hang over him when his career ends without an International medal. The perfect free-kick against Colombia followed by the incident involving Diego Simeone at France ’98 set the tone for Beckham’s World Cup back catalogue.
As well as Argentina, he can point to single-handedly dragging us to Japan/Korea in 2002 then crashing out to 10-man Brazil in the Quarter Finals, the first of their goals stemming from a failed tackle/clearance from the man himself on the stroke of half-time.
And of course the injury that forced him off in the loss to Portugal in 2006, which ultimately led to him resigning the captaincy.
Depressing, this, isn’t it? Maybe it’s all a bit blown out of proportion. Let’s face it, Beckham wasn’t going to be starting in South Africa. He was going to be there as the unofficial leader, the man who most of the younger players (and perhaps a few of the older ones, too) would turn to if their legs started trembling at the sight of Argentina in the second round. Is that what we wanted? The equivalent of an old, bearded man who sits in a bar, warning young and reckless sailors of the perils of the sea? Well, is it? Now that I think of it, I wouldn’t mind that scene played out. But metaphorically, no we do not.
Should we be more worried about the fitness of Ferdinand? And Cole? And Lennon? And the mental states of the likes of that balding sexer-upper John Terry? These are the men who will be starting against the USA, surely.
It also relieves Capello a difficult decision of who to leave out. Now, nobody in the world- let alone in England- can rival Beckham’s delivery and vision. But we can fill the hole with the pace of Ashley Young, the drive of James Milner and the skill of Joe Cole. Are we milking the demise of Beckham now, when really it was probably upon us and him a couple of years ago anyway?
Well, in a word, no.
Beckham’s illustrious career was missing only a successful crack at a major international tournament. A final appearance, though no footballer would admit it, would have perhaps sufficed. But he never got close- and when you consider that performance against Greece to take us to the World Cup in 2002, you have to wonder whether the football Gods (not Jamie Redknapp and Adrian Chiles, to name only two) are just simply against him. There are not many people in the world who would become the person Beckham has after people burnt effigies of them on the streets.
This tournament was made for the man from Hollywood to grab the headlines for his one final fling. Instead he will be watching at home, recovering from a pretty nasty injury, knowing he won’t ever get another chance at fulfilling the potential he always had of being a world beater. At least he’ll have Wayne Bridge for company.
God, it gets worse.

A quick look at last night’s Match of the Day 2 and it’s starting to become apparent that Martin Keown is setting new records when it comes to weirdness on television. We all know he has the make-up of a murderer. The eyes, the big hands, the calm exterior and blood boiling inner soul. Have you seen the way he looks at the new kid who presents Football Focus when he makes a joke about the ‘old days at Arsenal’? It could skin a rabbit.
He also seems to find it impossible to talk without his hands being wide open. Watch him, next time he’s on, and see how the second he starts talking, his hands break away from that relaxed (or ‘dormant’ and he calls it in his lair) position and just open up. It’s to say ‘hey, I’m an open and honest guy, I’ve nothing to hide’. Except the human hair that makes up your bed linen, mate.
But last night, he came out with a totally nonsensical musing about the United vs Fulham game, stating ‘it had a real Mother’s Day atmosphere about it’. Really? Is there a fake Mother’s Day atmosphere? Or do fans turn up with breakfast in bed for the players? Does everyone give each other flowers and cards they made at home with glitter and a shit load of glue? What is the meaning of this, Martin? What is the meaning of this????
Ever noticed how Martin is an ever-present on the MOTD2 sofa but they keep having to replace the second guest? Bilic, Curbishley, Pardew, Savage, and now Warnock. Other commitments, you say? Commitments under the floorboards, maybe.

Flog - Yay Rooney. Boo Dowd. OMFG Terry and Bridge. Lulz.

Blimey; this Rooney fellow might just be the best on the planet at the moment. For a few months now, I have been waiting for something to halt the superb run of form he’s been in- either an injury or a dry spell, or even a throwback to his petulant days of ref-barracking or vengeful tackles. Understand I wasn’t hoping for this in any way- as an England fan it’s the best I could have hoped for. Our best player is in the form of his life and effectively carrying a team at the moment.
Which, lets face it, is what he is likely to be doing in South Africa. His talismanic displays for United have kept them in the hunt for a third successive title after everybody assumed they would crumble after the departure of Ronaldo. They may not carry the same threat as they did last season, but they certainly still have a player who the opposition can do little else but fear. By no means was Rooney not one of those players last season, but Ronaldo was consistently brilliant in every game.
I saw Rooney play in the flesh for the first time when United played Spurs early in the season. When Paul Scholes got sent off, Rooney became like their 11th man. He worked double shifts and ran Vedran Corluka ragged for a whole half an hour before finally scoring the killer third goal. I’ve never seen, before or since, a better individual performance on a football field. He was immense, the bastard.
And he will have to continue that when the World Cup comes around. England have the same sort of balance as United do, especially in midfield; pace on the right, industry on the left, solidity in the middle. Ronaldo was the explosive attacker who made the difference- England don’t (and maybe never did) have that. United seemed to have made do with Rooney, and so will we.
I write all this after watching the Carling Cup Final- or if you were to believe the showcase Wembley put on the ‘Most Important Thing in the World Ever Including Jets of Fire and Loud NOISES NOISES NOISES’ Cup Final. It was a better final than most I have seen at Wembley, where most line up simply not to lose. Fergie started with Berbatov and Owen, a selection vindicated as the later finished well after good work from the former. Owen went off injured, a topic of choice for most interviewers after the game, who seem to be revelling in the soap operas surrounding any England player at the moment, whether it be personal or professional as in the case of Owen.
But really the day belongs to Rooney, who scored as perfect a header as you will ever see.
Although it could have been totally different. Scratch that- should have been totally different. For a long time now, Phil Dowd has been one of the poorest referees in the game. His ineptitude isn’t helped by his dismissive attitude towards player’s usually legitimate appeals. It’s like he enjoys being rubbish. Not fit to referee, to steal a quote from Fergie.
I refer, of course, to the third minute challenge which led to the opening goal from the penalty spot. Vidic pulls down Agbonlahor in the box, with nobody else around, with the Villa front man through on goal. Definite penalty? Yes. Definite clear goal-scoring opportunity? Yes. Sending off? Yes. Or if you are Phil Dowd, no.
Vidic stayed on the pitch, and despite Milner converting the kick, Villa had a right to feel very aggrieved. Not least as the next two bookings went to their players. After that, Dowd was constantly playing catch up to try and get some sort of even playing field in which to go into half time with. A complete undermining of the match and the game itself.
Why no sending off? Too early in the game, a penalty was sufficient punishment, it was Manchester United in a cup final, Vidic could floor Dowd with his finger? All good points.
Unlucky Villa.

So then. Wayne Bridge. Did you see? My God. It was, like, so cool! John Terry, the ex-England captain, put his hand out, like, to shake hands with the Man City team, who- would you believe it- Wayne Bridge PLAYS for, and, when his turn came up, Bridge TOTALLY WALKED PAST TERRY. Lulz! Seriously- it was an orgasmic moment of awkwardness. Sky reserved themselves to waiting until half time to reshow the ‘incident’, this time from many angles. Damn, YouTube has it in slow motion. Has there ever been so much coverage for a non-event? I didn’t shake hands with anyone last week. Where are my YouTube hits? You bastards. Film my life immediately.

Not a funny one, this edition. Sorry. One point of humour: I’m fairly sure there was an extra two men brought in to carry Tom Huddlestone off on the stretcher in the Spurs v Everton game. Ha bloody ha.

Flog - Hypothetical Uncles

Earlier today, during the Bolton v Spurs match, the ever brilliant Jim Beglin broadcast to the world a (I suspect) very old joke regarding his wife on this Valentine’s Day. ‘I’ve booked a table for me and the missus’, Beglin told Peter Drury, presumably trying to justify the flirting the two of them had become embroiled in throughout the match. ‘But she’s not much good at snooker’.
LOL.
Beglin remains the only shining light for a terrible ITV football broadcasting team, a fact reinforced moments ago by resident moron Clive Tyledsley banging on about a ‘hilarious’ hypothetical family get-together involving the two (unrelated) Warnock’s involved in the Crystal Palace vs. Aston Villa game, manager Neil and left-back Stephen. Clive never lets a joke die, especially one that involves further stereotyping of a football personality, in this case the effervescent Palace manager. ‘Imagine Stephen Warnock being sent round Uncle Neil’s!’, spews Clive, prompting an emotion in me as close to suicidal as I will ever feel. ‘No thanks, Mum!’, he continues, undeterred by the fact that nobody is listening.
I always moan about ITV. I always moan about everything in truth. But ITV really do eat away at me, like a disease, or to put it more pleasantly, like a beaver gnawing away at a tree. A diseased beaver.
So, for now, I will lay off them. Instead I will moan about England. That’s right, England. Bloody England.
It seems that in a World Cup year, England self-destructs. I don’t mean the country as a whole, of course. This is Flog, and nothing but football exists. The economy? Politics? Wagon Wheels? Not a sausage. Sausage? Question marks? Okay this joke is starting to die. Clive, don’t miss your cue.
If Fabio Capello wished that the whole Terry/Bridge situation would ease, he got it. If he also wished for the best left back in England to get a serious injury, he’s not only a moron, but he got that too. He didn’t wish that, - it’s just a tool to help the next paragraph flow. Isn’t writing fun?
Ashley Cole has broken his ankle after a challenge with Landon Donovan. That’s right- the American Landon Donovan. Yeah? Everyone was thinking it, but nobody was saying it. Until now. I’m breaking ground here, and I’m not afraid to say what everyone else thinks. U.S.A.’s best player, who will be at the World Cup, comes to the Premier League to play against effectively England’s entire squad, including arguably the best left back in the world, and injures him. Never mind the innocuous challenge, never mind he got the ball, never mind Cole’s foot was as high as Donovan’s. Donovan knew exactly what he was doing. Because now, should Cole miss out, we have to turn to our back up full back, Bridge. The theory? Americans love drama. So a punch up within the team they play first in the group stages will do nicely.
For those out of touch with Flog and indeed reality, I am of course joking about Donovan. I actually quite like him, for reasons that can only be described as Championship Manager 2001/02 ones. Any player I have bought in previous editions of the game become a favourite of mine, partly because they reaffirm my ever-ridiculous opinion that I spot talent as well as any scout in the league, but mainly because the game is so realistic we’re only a couple of years away from going round their houses for dinner. Which is why I will forever sing the praises of Thomas Vermaelen (bought him for Spurs, what a Judas he’s turned out to be in REAL LIFE), James Milner, Donovan, Aruna Dindane, Joe Hart and Florent Malouda. Not so much Dindane, but the rest could win a title. Hear that Redknapp? A TITLE! Sign me up!
So Bridge is now in demand. It was ideal that Bridge wasn’t England’s finest in his position because it meant Capello wouldn’t have the problem of fielding him and Terry anyway. This injury has totally messed that one up, then. There are alternatives- Warnock being one of them* and my preferred choice, Leighton Baines (another FM buy in 06/07. He failed to make the grade but we remained firm friends).
So what to do? If Bridge and Terry can remain professional enough to play together, literally side by side, then great, because Bridge has the ability and experience to fill in for Cole. Whether we want to see two out of the four defenders we have on the pitch just one tactical dispute away from a brawl or not, I don’t know. We’re always up for excitement, aren’t we? Yeah? Bit of wrestling? Yeah? No? Oh, alright then.
Wayne Rooney and David Beckham have both been in Cole’s situation before, being an integral part of the team but missing the back end of the season. Game time is one of Capello’s main issues when selecting a squad- just ask Michael Owen- but surely he can’t leave out Cole if he is physically able to play. Both for football reasons, and probably emotional ones as well.

*when writing the name ‘Warnock’, I suddenly remembered what I was writing this edition of Flog for in the first place, and how I would interlink the first and second halves. It didn’t quite work out. Sorry. Bye.

And the crowd sang: 'Same old Terry, always cheating'.

He’s not the England captain, he’s a very naughty boy.
That opening line is so bad it made me cringe when I thought of it on the train this morning. However, nothing can compare to just how bad John Terry has been, so I could have pretty much opened this edition of Flog with a picture of me drowning some kittens- really cute kittens as well- and still the outrage would be considered minimal by comparison.
Not that it’s unwarranted, of course. John Terry has been, for lack of a better term, a cunt. It’s not often I use that word- that’s only the second time this hour- but it seems to fit the current England captain right now.
The woman in question, Portugala Manyboobs or something, is now selling her story because of the gross amount of ‘things being said that simply aren’t true’. That, and the massive amount of cash Max Clifford has promised her. For some reason she is being treated as some sort of victim in all of this, mainly because of the apparent abortion Terry organised. Terrible, maybe. But it’s not rocket science as to why you may have required one in the first place, you tool.
I’ve never been the biggest Wayne Bridge fan in a football respect. But as far as I am aware, he is a human. Don’t let the rubbery Keown-esque murder face fool you, there’s a soul in there. Right now it’s being tortured because of someone he considered not just a team mate but a friend betrayed his trust, and rightly he has confirmed there will be no statements or press conferences in the near future regarding the matter for the benefit of his young son.
Bridge’s other decision holds more professional ramifications. Should he choose to end his international career, he would finish on 36 caps and spent the entirety of it as understudy to Ashley Cole, another great moral ambassador. It would be an England career unremarkable except for the way in which it ended, and that could well yet be the saddest blow Terry has dealt him.
Not that the personal effects are any less painful, but at the end of the day, they are footballers, and footballers who can never play on the same team ever again. Bridge has already stated this in private. Even if he hadn’t I’d be questioning the manager who actually chooses to put them together on a team sheet now.
That is the problem for Fabio Capello. Right there. England have 4 people to realistically rely on to win the World Cup. Rooney, Gerrard, Lampard and Terry. All of which, if fit and playing to their full ability, could bring the trophy back to England. They are the spine, the core of the team both on and off it. For Capello to take a full stand against Terry’s personal conduct, he would not only have to relinquish Terry of his captain’s duties but that of his playing ones as well. That’s the World Cup over with, and I’m not exaggerating. Let us not forget how much Rio Ferdinand is struggling, too.
So the only thing left to do is to strip Terry of the captaincy and let Bridge retire from the international scene. Obviously Capello could not force his hand, but he couldn’t exactly call him up to the squad while Terry was a part of the set up. England’s best defender versus England’s second choice left back. In the football world, it’s not even a question.
So that’s Bridge’s personal and professional life now entirely in the balance. Well done JT, you’re an advert for the English game. I wont deny that England needs you the player on that plane to South Africa, but if you could leave your astronomically foolish personality back in the gutter where it belongs, that’d be great. Captain’s armband or not, should you lift the World Cup this summer as an England player, there will be one Englishman sat at home watching you not wondering if it could have been him out there, but knowing it would have been.

I would say rant over, but it’s not. Because this will have even more knock on effects. England now (surely) finds itself without a captain- at least without a proper one- so who is going to lead us out in South Africa? Ferdinand isn’t fit and is a dunce. Gerrard has never replicated his Liverpool form in an England shirt, an opinion which can be considered somewhat unfair seeing as his performances for the Reds particularly two or three years ago were nothing short of super hero standard, but the facts speak for themselves. Rooney simply cannot be given the armband because it would encourage him to be the all rounder we love seeing when we’re 1-0 up, but not so much when we need a striker standing up front to bang in the goals when we need them. So, despite my past hatred of the man, it has to go to Lampard. He has been phenomenal for Chelsea for pretty much his entire career there, and his England performances have been understated since Capello took over. He's a senior member of the team and is mentally tough enough to take on the role so close to the tournament and be successful.
That, and it might be nice to have it go to one of Terry’s team mates. Oh the betrayal, eh John?

Flog - Magic, Hartson and ITV's Vomit

Wow, can you feel the magic? It’s like magic, everywhere. It’s so magic. The FA Cup. Magic. Just magic. The magic of the FA Cup. Magic. M-A-G-I-C. Magic.
Sorry, am I saying magic too much? Only it’s my understanding that ‘magic’ has now replaced every other descriptive word in the universe. ‘Shock’ is no longer in the dictionary, nor is ‘glamour’. ‘Captivating’ had it’s day long ago, so that’s out too. And as for ‘exciting’ and ‘wonderful’, well, they just don’t hold a candle to ‘magic’.
Yes, ITV, Flog is ranting at you once more. You may think you are continuously picked on by me, but maybe that’s because you are so relentlessly rubbish. I’ve spent a weekend watching your coverage of the FA Cup and am now fairly sure four out of my five senses are gone, never to return.
Obviously, my hearing (and with it my sanity) has gone with the intense overuse of the ‘M’ word, along with being beaten over the head by The Enemy’s ‘Be Somebody’ every time the programme starts, ends and cuts to a break. Considering the FA Cup on ITV has had around 12 hours of airtime (not including the repeats of the highlights package Sunday morning) this weekend, and they have an advert break every 3 minutes, the audience has been subjected to that ‘solid gooooooooooold’ ident a total of 4,911,024,586 times. Add all this to Robbie Earle’s suicide-inducing murmurs between highlights and I just can‘t take it any…more...sorry…I’m writing this during the Scunthorpe vs. Man City game and they’ve come back from a break… ‘SOLID GOOOO-OOOOH-OOOOOOLD!!!!!!!’
Next: my eyes. Their opening titles take on a mock comic book template, presumably trying to inject a Roy of the Rovers feel. Instead it’s like a war between every shade of hew ever known to man over which one gets to blind you first. It reminds me of that episode of Byker Grove, when PJ gets blinded by a paintball bullet, only that was partly his fault for taking his goggles off in the middle of the battle. What exactly did we do to deserve this vomit of colour from our screens, ITV? Just what? Because whatever I did, I’m so sorry. Now stop it.
I didn’t so much lose my ‘taste’, rather get the feeling that ‘taste’ in the ‘tactful’ sense has been disregarded altogether. I refer to John Hartson in the pundit’s chair for the Stoke vs. Arsenal game Sunday lunchtime. Hartson’s return to something like full health after a serious fight against testicular, lung and brain cancer is obviously excellent to see, and his television work looks to be merited by spirited insight and genuine experience rather than a turn of sympathy. So it’s nice to know ITV can be sensitive towards the issue when asking him if the match was a case of ‘brains over battering rams’. Brilliant. I suppose I should be celebrating the fact that they didn’t substitute ‘battering rams’ with ‘balls of steel’. Maybe I’m being a little pedantic, but I certainly felt for Hartson, who must feel a little under the spotlight for his past ill health rather than his fine punditry, and while we’re on the subject I’d like to point out how I enjoyed Paul Robinson’s input into the Spurs vs. Leeds game too. Quite why Robbie Earle is still turned to for his views, God only knows.
All that and I’m sure I lost my sense of smell somewhere along the line.

Just a quick note on one of my least favourite players on this Earth, Jermaine Jenas. After the Leeds game, I went through everything a footballer should have in my mind and tallied up what ‘JJ’ offers a side. Ready? Ok: Pass? No. Tackle? No. Shoot? No. Head? No. Corners? No. Dribble? No. Cross? No. Penalties? No. Free kicks? No. Defend? No. Skill? No. Mark? No.
Anything, and I mean anything, you think of and add onto that list, I assure you he cannot do. This is a player supposedly on the fringe of England’s World Cup squad; I can only imagine for moral support or to iron the kit. As a (realistic) Spurs fan, I was devastated to learn they had rejected a £10million approach from Aston Villa for him in the summer. I’d have sold him for Nectar Points. No doubt he will stay at Spurs forever, even after he has finished playing, as a God-awful manager or club patriot or something, just to emphasise the mediocrity us Tottenham fans will most likely be eternally subjected to.

Magic.

Flog - Snowman Pavlyuchensnow!

SNOW! Look! White, fluffy snow! Wow! There’s Fernando Torres throwing a snowball! Guffaw! Gareth Bale is chucking a lump of snow at David Bentley! Zoinks! Scott Carson has just found the huge snowman his team mates have hid in his car! Ha ha ha! Ha ha bloody ha!
I hate snow. Well actually I don’t. I love it. It’s just the leftovers I hate. The inch deep rink that I have to negotiate while getting to the station each morning is becoming ever more tiresome and I think the fear of slipping down one of the two (two!) hills and into a main road on the way will send me to an early stress induced grave.
So quite what all these footballers are enjoying about it, I don’t know. They’re forced out into the abyss, go to training where any form of mild slide tackle will result in shards of ice becoming part of their anatomy, then their game gets called off and they go home. To eat chocolate and stuff.
I’m not sure if we’re supposed to feel more endeared towards the modern footballer after being exposed to these ‘behind the scenes’ pictures of them or not. It certainly depicts them in a more human and overall normal light, something that Joey Barton tried to do recently, but instead of using snow he simply called them all ‘knobs’. Erm, did you not see how hilarious it was when Scott Carson’s car got ruined by 10kg of solid, filthy snow? A-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
Carson’s reaction, however, was truly something to behold. Before realising the cameras were on I swear I saw his top lip quiver in anger. ‘I should be England’s number 1, but instead I’m being mocked. Mocked by Scottish defenders.’ Then he saw the camera. ‘Oh… erm… ha ha ha’.
And I’m sure Torres loved the snow too, for all of about seven seconds, while the cameras were there. I’m sure they failed to capture the moment when a huge lump of the white stuff found it’s way under his collar and down his training top, at which point he attacks the perpetrator, Ryan Babel, and bludgeons him into a pulp on the field out of utter freezing shock.
It would be interesting to see what Nemanja Vidic makes of it all as well, seeing as he and his family already claim to be struggling to fully adapt to the English weather, and that was when it was just grey. That’s a good 85% of the time, mate. Still, you could always move to London and make your way to the match on a Saturday by train like the United fans, Nemanja. You could lead them; for many it‘s their first and only visit.
I felt for the Bolton supporters on Wednesday too, who were effectively in their seats at the Emirates before the game was called off. Typically, they couldn’t just accept that they wouldn’t be seeing the game, they had to have a pop at the Southerners as well. ‘They think the ice is bad here, they should see me’ mam’s house in Bolton’, declared the 6th Peter Kay look-a-like to step off the bus. Still, to cancel a game so late with an away set of supporters already on route to the stadium is completely unacceptable on Arsenal’s part. If there’s a good chance of it being off, call it early and stop the coach before it hits the M1, not when they’re outside the ground you tits.

In other news Portsmouth continue to excite on every level except a footballing one, with the club now facing a winding up order from the Inland Revenue, along with unpaid debts to other Premier League and Championship clubs for past transfers and of course relegation. Reports today suggest that their entire squad is up for sale, but let’s be brutal here, even if every single player goes it wouldn’t settle their debt. It wouldn’t settle my overdraft. Later in the day Portsmouth claimed that they have ‘no need’ to offload any players. Really? But they’re so shit, aren’t they?
Hindsight is a wonderfully horrible thing in football, and if Portsmouth fans excercise it then they’ll soon be throwing themselves under a bus. Let’s face it, only 2 good things would come from the club going into administration, or even closing up altogether, and that is 1) that bloody bell will stop ringing, and 2) (and seriously) perhaps the Premiership’s ‘fit and proper persons’ test will actually fucking mean something. Club loyalties aside, I don’t think any of us want to see Portsmouth FC go under, but maybe it will make people think twice before hailing a new exotic owner as any sort of messiah at their own club.

Hang in there, Pompey.

PUNS!: To finish off this edition of Flog, here are some weather related football puns: Alessandro Frostacurta, Sam Allard-ice, Sled Evans, Snow Hansen, Snowman Pavlyuchensnow, Ian Slush, Evander Sno-w, Mark Snowball (personal favourite) and Sleeter Schmeichel. Thanks to Tom Page for Ben Froster and Jen Slayman, and Joey Page for Pedsnow Mendes. Joey also had Les Fur-dinand, but by this point we realised we had things to do.