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?
9 August 2010
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.
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.
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