Glenn Hoddle for Tottenham Hotspur (v Watford), 24 September 1983

In the early days of home video recorders, I recall owning a BBC video entitled "101 Great Goals". It did exactly what it said on the box - it was a collection of the best century of goals from Match of the Day coverage over the previous thirty or so years.

So, updating the idea completely and using the power of YouTube, here beginneth the irregular but (hopefully) entertaining CUAS 101 Great Goals.

Where better to start than with my all-time favourite goal, eh? A complete cock of a man, but a sublime piece of skill....

101 Great Goals #31 - Glenn Hoddle

John Arne Riise for Liverpool (v Barcelona), 21 February 2007

Hello all. Welcome to one of the Guardian's pick of football blogs....

Predictions time again:

Charlton 2-1 West Ham
Fulham 1-2 Man Utd
Liverpool 2-0 Sheff Utd
Middlesbrough 1-0 Reading
Watford 0-2 Everton
Blackburn 2-1 Portsmouth
Tottenham 2-0 Bolton
Wigan 1-1 Newcastle

and some Carling Cup Final wildcards:

Chelsea 2-1 Arsenal
First scorer: Frank Lampard
First booking: Justin Hoyte

Craig Bellamy for Liverpool (vs Newcastle), 10 February 2007

"with a little understanding / you can find the perfect blend...."

During a gap in the fixtures list, a team of footballers go to the continent for a short break in the sun. A spot of light training, perhaps some golf, a bit of team bonding... perhaps a drink or two...... you know the rest, right?

When I read about Craig Bellamy's alleged assault on John Arne-Riise with a golf club over a perceived slight at the karaoke, I couldn't help but think that I've seen it all before. Even the names of the footballers seemed to be predictable: Robbie Fowler, Jermaine Pennant and Craig Bellamy. If you had to pick the three members of the Liverpool squad most likely to be involved in something like this, I reckon you'd come up with them.

Yeah, I heard the hotel manager on the radio this morning saying that reports of the fracas had been much exagerrated. Yeah, I heard Rafa Benitez trying to play the whole affair down. It's clear that something happened though: a bunch of young men went out on the lash and were unable to stop themselves from letting things get out of hand. You might say that I don't know the facts, that the media have blown this all out of proportion, that this would probably be true of any group of lads out in a resort like this and having a few drinks... and you'd probably be right.... but most groups of lads having a rowdy night out on the tiles are not paid £80, 000 a week; they are not professional athletes; they do not have a crucial game against the European Champions later on this week.

What's wrong with these people? Let's look at Bellamy:

February 2002 Receives a caution for hitting a woman in a nightclub

March 2003 Charged with racially aggravated harassment outside a nightclub but later acquitted

March 2004 Throws a chair at John Carver, Newcastle's assistant manager

January 2005 Fined £80,000 by Graeme Souness for calling him a liar

April 2005 Abuses former Newcastle team-mate, Alan Shearer, by text

September 2006 Rows in tunnel with Newcastle coach Terry McDermott

November 2006 Bellamy cleared of assaulting teenage girl in a nightclub

Lovely fella. I'm sure he's just misunderstood

I could just as easily have picked Jermaine Pennant, and you would have seen a similar tale.

Like I said: what's wrong with these people?

Geoff Hurst for England (v West Germany), 30th July 1966

For those of you who appreciate the quality and biting satire of this site (ahem), you are now in good company.

Yesterday, the sparkly Cheer Up Alan Shearer site was listed here.

Of all the shiny football websites in all the countries of all the world (etc) we are the Guardian's pick of footie websites.

Thank you darlings. Champagne for *everyone*.....!

(thanks very much to Skif for the link)

Darius Henderson for Watford (v West Ham United), 10 February 2007

Hello again. There's a great article here looking back at six months of the excellent Guardian sport blogs. Plus, if you scroll to the bottom, there is an invitation to submit a 500 or so word piece to them. The best will be published and the winner gets a paid commission. Seeing as we have a stack of talented football writers (click on any of the links to the A-Z of Football on the right sidebar for evidence) I'd encourage you to have a bash. Go on.

Anyway.

Predictions time again. FA Cup is back this weekend!

Arsenal 2-0 Blackburn
Chelsea 3-0 Norwich
Man Utd 2-1 Reading
Middlesbrough 1-1 West Brom
Plymouth 1-1 Derby
Watford 2-1 Ipswich
Fulham 2-1 Spurs
Preston 2-0 Man City

and some wildcards from teams in the news this week:

Cardiff 1-0 Leeds (no prizes for guessing the Leeds line-up. Heh heh heh)
Stoke 2-0 Luton (no female ref, I imagine)

(and any more contributions for the "G"'s in the A-Z of Football please. Ta)

Nemanja Vidic for Manchester United (v Tottenham Hostpur), 4 February 2007

The brilliant latest instalment in the A-Z of Football is here.

Hello all. I have been assimilated into the New Blogger race so this might work slightly differently to before...

Anyway. Stabbing around wildly at football results remains.

Chelsea 2-0 Middlesbrough
Everton 2-1 Blackburn
Man Utd 3-0 Charlton
Newcastle 0-1 Liverpool
Portsmouth 2-1 Man City
Reading 2-1 Aston Villa
Sheff Utd 1-1 Tottenham
West Ham 2-0 Watford
Arsenal 3-0 Wigan
Bolton 2-0 Fulham

and some home Yorkshire wildcards:

Barnsley 1-1 Colchester
Leeds 2-1 Crystal Palace
Rotherham 1-1 Blackpool

Craig Bellamy for Newcastle Utd (v Feyenoord), 13 November 2002

So, here we are again. The A-Z of Football reaches its sixth letter, as the CUAS massive ignore topics like "football" and "Fulham" is favour of, er, small men attached to handles, Dutch away nights, peas and Tim Gudgin. Amongst others.

The A-Z Of Football

F is for FA Cup Final (Lord Bargain)

I’ve thought long and hard about why the FA Cup has lost its glamour. The simple answer is, “I don’t know”. I suppose it’s that the European tournaments have taken precedence and so the qualification for the Champions League is now the be-all-and-end-all for fans of the “top” clubs.

Or maybe it is because the gap between the top clubs and the rest is bigger than ever, and so winning the Cup is no longer a realistic aim for any bar the top clubs. With the exception of Wimbledon and Coventry, no-one outside Liverpool, Arsenal, Man Utd, Spurs or Everton has won the Cup since the 1970’s.

The FA Cup Final holds my first real memories of football. I was nine when I went to my first FA Cup Final – the replay between Man Utd and Brighton in 1983. In those days, tickets for the 100,000 capacity Wembley were like gold dust. In the days before eBay and corporate packages, you had to have a mate whose mum knew someone who worked at the local FA to even get a sniff of a ticket.

I remember my Dad coming home with the tickets that day and getting to hold one was like being Charlie Bucket with a golden pass to Willy Wonka’s factory.

And then what? Running into the street when Norman Whiteside’s curling shot hit the back of the net in extra time in 1985? The Crazy Gang beating the Culture Club in 1988? Ian Rush being the first person to come on as sub in a Cup Final and score twice since….Stuart McCall two minutes earlier? The brilliant Palace v Man Utd 3-3 final of 1990.

My second FA Cup Final was in 1994. Perched delightfully in the centre of the Chelsea end, I sat on my hands for 90 minutes as Eric Cantona inspired United to a 4-0 triumph. What a dreadful result. Etc.

My third and final Cup Final trip was the following year. In excellent neutral seats with my Toffee-supporting girlfriend, Everton upset the odds with a hard fought 1-0 victory.

Since then, you can count the number of decent Finals on one finger; 2006’s Liverpool v West Ham match. At a push the last 20 minutes of the Liverpool v Arsenal final of 2001 were exciting (Michael Owen’s two late goals winning the trophy) but the remainder were one-sided and dull. Plus if you want a ticket, eBay will oblige, it’s on at least one TV channel and the winner gets nothing bar a place in the UEFA Cup.

I suppose that’s it in a nutshell. “The winner gets nothing bar a place in the UEFA Cup”. Other than the FA Cup itself and winning the tournament, which, it seems is barely enough these days.

F is for Feyenoord (Paul)

It's Wednesday 13 November 2002, and Newcastle United are one game away from making Champions League history. Never before has a team lost its opening three group games and still qualified for the post-Christmas section of the competition. After defeats to Juventus, Feyenoord and Dynamo Kiev, Newcastle have managed to turn things around to leave the group on a knife-edge. If Juventus win against Kiev, and Newcastle beat Feyenoord, then we go through.

Unable to be in Holland, I opt for the next best thing - ITV2 in my living room in Guildford with friends, beer and curry.

Newcastle start well - and by half time we are have acquired a 2 goal lead (courtesy of Craig Bellamy and Hugo Viana). However, it will all count for nothing if Juve can't do something against Kiev.

Then, as only Newcastle can, things start to go awry, and whilst the Old Lady of Turin starts to do us a favour, we start to shoot ourselves in the foot, and allow Feyenoord to score. Twice.

Typical Newcastle - the favour we need, we get. The performance we need, we can't manage.

Then, with seconds left on the clock, Kieron Dyer bursts through on goal. With only the keeper to beat, Kieron does exactly what I expect him to do, and side foots the ball to the keeper's left with little power. Unsurprisingly the keeper saves it, and then (and this bit replays in slow-motion every time I think about it, even now) Craig Bellamy scampers on to the ball and forces it home.

The team erupt in joy, the fans erupt in joy, and a small living room in Guildford erupts in joy. I actually have to go outside and shout for joy - doubtless much to the bemusement of my neighbours.

I have never ever experienced a thrill that great from watching a football match ever.

F is for Food and Drink - (Skif)

What is the the pre-match checklist?

Pint
Programme
Pie (n’ peas if you’re north of Derbyshire)
And a piss.

More than half of football attendees can live without the programme, so maybe not so essential. You might also be willing to risk running the gauntlet of getting through the 90 minutes without attempting to erode your zip fly with a sudden goal-propelled jet of backed-up russet-hued urine. Good for you.

Which leaves the pie and a pint, or variations on that theme. Intrinsic to the football experience for a great many fans is the food and drink, from the flat-capped groundhoppers twisting the caps of their Thermos, to the Dads having their jeans tugged by little un’s desperate for a burger, their tiny tastebuds innocent to the full horror of the polar-cap of a bap that will envelop a patty of meat so limp it comes with its own orthopaedic shoe.

Still it’s not only the young who don’t learn quick. At Barrow a year ago, I spent a good few minutes in the tea-bar queue only to be rewarded with a brew that will go down in history as the worst that British football catering has to offer. Admittedly, for the "tea" this was rather like turning out for a Timmy Mallett-lookalike contest and leaving only with the ‘Biggest Funt’ spot-prize. At least the powder teas you sometimes get (I’m looking at you, Basingstoke Town) advertise their foulness by congealing into a surface-pox. The Skiffoid tongue, on that occasion, was not fore-armed.

Keen to cleanse the system, the gutter-behind-a-wall urinals was the half-time port of call, where the floor was festooned with tissues, coke cans and an empty quarter bottle of Napoleon French Brandy. It seems it has been one of those seasons. It might also have accounted for Barrow’s heavy-legged defensive display that afternoon.

This, of course, brings me to booze. Although I should ask while we’re on the hot terrace beverages, does Bovril exist on the unbelievers side of the turnstiles?

Anyway, booze. At most English grounds, even in the non-league, you’ll be hard pressed to find a ground that allows you to take your beer on the terraces, even in a plastic vessel. I can think of two. It’s not so strict in Europe, of course. I’ve stood Rapid Vienna fans packing away the pints amidst the odd Bratwurst pit-stop. The best though was watching (much) lower-league football in the south of the Czech Republic, where a tiny beer hut [as seen bottom left in picture below] was arguably the main attraction as FK Slavoj Český Krumlov beat ZD Olesnik 1-0 in the Jihočeský přebor, the regional 5th level of Czech football. I think 1-0 was the score anyway. That Czech lager is as strong as a heavily tattooed ox.



The big away day beano is football’s social masterpiece and, when it stays relatively sensible, adds a bit of colour to town centres on Saturday lunchtimes. It is perhaps that which represents week-in, week-out football support the best. However some will tell you it is the pie. I’m not so sure, but certainly pies are pretty big business, particularly in the professional leagues. Think Chelsea v Man U is football’s premier showdown. Nah, Hollands versus Pukka. Everytime.

Its cut-throat stuff is the football pie business though. Shire Foods sponsored the 2004 edition of Duncan Adams’ ‘The Essential Football Fan’, a complete guide to our nation’s professional grounds for away travellers. In the gastronomical guide for most of the grounds, one phrase appears with odd regularity. “The delicious ‘Football’s Famous Chicken Balti Pie’ is available inside the ground.” To me a sentence that clunky could put me off my dinner for a week, let alone while elbowing your way through the tea-bar queue.

And you thought Hollywood was rife with product placement? Nah, ground’oppin’s where the big bucks are, chump.

F is for foosball (Ben)

“Wilkommen zum Fussball”, as Pele never tired of saying in the ad breaks during the World Cup (we soon tired of hearing it, though).

My subject isn’t “Fussball”, football in German, the Bundesliga etc; it’s foosball, what the French (among those who claim to have invented it) call “le babyfoot” and what we, more prosaically, call “table football”.

What relation can a game played by two or four people on a table of around 140cm by 70cm possibly bear to the real thing, a sport played by twenty-two people on a grass (or sometimes mud) pitch around a hundred times larger?

Well, more than you might think.

Foosball can be a game of drama and excitement, and often of skill – though if you’ve ever witnessed a non-league football dogfight, then you’ll be familiar with the way the ball often just pings around manically without any player being able to put their foot on it and calm things down.

Table footballers are a manager’s dream, superbly disciplined in maintaining their formation even under pressure. Though that formation is often a Keegan-esque gung-ho 2-5-3, the defence in particular holds the sort of rigid line that George Graham’s Arsenal would have been proud of; it’s just a shame that opposing forwards can never actually spring the offside trap, and even if they could there wouldn’t be a referee to award the free kick.

And if the foosballers are rather less likely than your average Premiership star to be caught indulging in a spot of roasting, then they are nevertheless just as likely to be found in a bar late at night.

I’ve never found that the consumption of alcohol is particularly conducive to attempting to play a game which demands lightning reactions and considerable co-ordination – well, that’s my excuse anyway. But some of my friends are keen enthusiasts, so much so that the closure of the West Side Bar in Nottingham was lamented because its one redeeming feature was a foosball table.

Being unable to find a table has never been a problem for a couple of them, whose passion for the game was nurtured in a town (Newtown, in mid Wales) where the game was so popular that for a while there was a table football league along the same lines as a pool or darts league. When they went out and bought their own table, one had to take the side off the caravan he was living in just to accommodate it because it wouldn’t fit through the door. Participation in the UK Table Football Championships – and a creditable performance – followed.

They’ve since sold that table but remain bitten by the bug – perhaps it’s the thrill of the game, or perhaps it’s the lingering hope that it might be their passport to finding WAGs. ‘Table Footballers’ Wives’ – now there’s a programme I’d like to see.

F is for Final Score (Swiss Toni)

I think the magic is in that pause:

“Leicester City 2….”

There’s probably less than a second’s gap before the score is completed, but that tiny moment’s hesitation is all football fans across the country need to engage in their favourite guessing game. Was there anything in the tone of voice that might lead us to deduce the result? Have the home side bagged the points? Have they been hammered? Who were they playing again?

“… Wolverhampton Wanderers...”

Sometimes the bastard event throws in a second pause before finally putting me out of my misery.

“… nil”

Is it me, or did he sound faintly surprised by that score? Or was it just a weary resignation? Delight? Is he a Leicester fan? A Wolves fan? Does he even like football? Before I’ve had time to really think about it, we’re already moved on to Luton’s scoreless draw with Barnsley.

A bloke reading out the classified football results: it shouldn’t make gripping television, but somehow it does. It started on Grandstand at some point in the 1950s, and although the parent programme is sadly no longer with us, Final Score is still going strong. Amazingly, in all that time, only two people have read out the scores: Len Martin and, since 1995, Tim Gudgin. Now that’s a great gig to get, isn’t it? The hours are good (about 5 minutes a week), you’re on national TV and it appears to be a job for life. Gudgin is now pushing 80 though… so what do you think my chances are? Where do I apply? Do you think it would be bad form to apply before the old boy’s actually popped his clogs? Maybe they’ve got Garth Crooks lined up already...

.....................................................

Brilliant, again. Thanks to all for their contributions. "G" next. Hmmm. Gretna? George Graham? Glenn Hoddle?.....

Henrik Larsson for Manchester Utd (v Watford), 31 January 2007

Woken up from your coma induced by the FA Cup Fifth Round Draw and transfer deadline day?

Excellent. Predictions, then:

Aston Villa 2-1 West Ham
Blackburn 2-0 Sheff Utd
Charlton 0-2 Chelsea
Fulham 2-1 Newcastle
Liverpool 2-0 Everton
Man City 1-0 Reading
Middlesbrough 1-3 Arsenal
Watford 1-0 Bolton
Wigan 2-1 Portsmouth
Tottenham 1-2 Man Utd

and I'm off to Berlin this weekend to watch some Bundesliga so we'll have wildcards from there:

Hertha Berlin 0-1 HSV Hamburg
Werder Bremen 2-1 Schalke 04

Matthew Upson for Birmingham City (vs Plymouth Argyle), 2nd December 2006

I thought the transfer window closing was supposed to be exciting?

Has it really ever been anything but excruciatingly dull?

Matthew Upson to West Ham?
Gareth Williams to Watford?
Jon Macken to Derby?
Wayne Henderson to Preston?
Michael Duberry to Reading?

Seriously? Is that as good as it gets? All that endless paper talk, all that speculation... and all we have to get excited about is Matthew Upson?

Woo-hoo!

Maybe I should stay up to see if Javier Mascherano completes his loan move to Liverpool?

*stifles yawn*

Vincenzo Montella for Fulham (v Stoke City), 27 January 2007

So, it's been an exciting couple of days. First there was the FA Cup draw and then Fergie banging on about video technology and then a fat bloke joined AC Milan and the BBC are going to show the Man Utd v Reading game and that bald headed waster has finally left Middlesbrough and Wigan sign a Championship Manager legend and Reading buy someone from Halfords and Newcastle buy someone historically a complete waster but recently half decent and with a name that looks like it might be an anagram of a decent footballer.

Oh, and West Brom have signed Dean Kiely, mainly because their existing reserve goalkeeper is generally too busy shagging a blonde woman whilst she sucks someone else off. Wearing a West Brom polo shirt.

And then there was the FA Cup dra.........zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Jermaine Pennant for Liverpool (v Chelsea), 20 January 2007

Did you know that Neil Warnock is an anagram of Colin Wanker?

No?

Every day is a schoolday, people.

FA Cup predictions this week. Whoop de doo.

Birmingham 2-1 Reading
Bristol City 1-1 Middlesbrough
Crystal Palace 2-0 Preston
Fulham 2-0 Stoke
Luton 0-1 Blackburn
Man Utd 3-1 Portsmouth
West Ham 2-0 Watford
Arsenal 2-0 Bolton
Chelsea 2-0 Nottingham Forest
Wolves 2-1 West Brom

and wildcards from the return of the Bundesliga:

Hertha Berlin 2-0 Wolfsburg
Werder Bremen 3-0 Hannover 96

Right. I'm off to watch "Skins" to see if that kid off of About a Boy really is any good as a wild teenager....

James Milner for Newcastle Utd (v West Ham Utd), 20 January 2007

I know I have touched on this matter before but the issue of referees being "demoted" to lower leagues has reared its head again this week.

Histrionic, generally useless idiot Uriah Rennie faces demotion from the Premiership after allowing James Milner's goal for Newcastle United to stand at the weekend despite Scott Parker being in an offside position right in front of the goalkeeper.

Ignoring the fact for one moment that Uriah Rennie is the worst senior referee I have ever seen (at the risk of having a Jade Goody moment, I am convinced that his elevation to the Premiership is not solely down to his refereeing credentials - I have always thought positive discrimination was a bit of an oxymoron) I find the whole notion of "relegating" referees to lower leagues bizarre.

If I was a Premiership footballer, and was utterly rubbish in one game or did something dreadful, there is a quite strong likelihood that I might be dropped for a couple of games. What wouldn't happen is that I'd be sent on loan to Luton or Plymouth or Colchester for a spell. Which is, let's face it, exactly what happens to demoted refs.

Plus, what sort of message does it send to Championship clubs that a referee deemed too incompetent to take charge of a top flight match is suddenly appointed to their game?

I understand the need for a pyramid system of referees in terms of promotion. Just because I have my refereeing qualifications and have officiated some Sunday League matches does not mean I could be let loose on the Premiership this weekend (although I reckon I'd do a job). It's clearly important for referees to gain experience in the same way that we all work our way up the career ladder (or at least used to before the futile pointlessness of it all kicked in).

But once they have reached the required standard then suspend them if you must (is it supposed to be a punishment?) or admit that referees make mistakes, as do players and managers, and let them get on with the job. Let's not (literally) send them to Coventry.

Alan Shearer for Newcastle Utd (v Everton), 1 December 2002

It was about quarter past midnight on Saturday night/Sunday morning and we were stranded on Long Acre near Covent Garden. The West End of London was buzzing with Saturday evening revellers and having just finished a fantastic meal at Belgo, the four of us were searching in vain for a black cab to take us back to her hotel.

In the distance, Swiss Toni spotted the faint orange light of a London taxi. On the pavement in front of us were another group with a girl who spotted the same cab at almost exactly the same time.

Majestically, like Alan Shearer in his pomp, Swiss's walk developed into a jog and he headed in the direction of the taxi, right arm aloft as if the net at the Gallowgate End had just rippled with another Shearer goal. Practically elbowing the girl aside (another trait made famous by Shearer on Tyneside) he galloped in the style of that legendary number 9 until the taxi pulled over. To groans from the disappointed girl we piled into the back of the cab and headed for the hotel.

See? Two years of an Alan Shearer monikered website *did* turn out to have it's uses. I tell you, the man himself would have been so proud....

Arjen Robben for Chelsea (v Wigan Athletic), 13 January 2007

"A transfer budget of only one meeeeeelion dollars....?"

Heh heh heh.

Predictions time again, troops.

Aston Villa 2-0 Watford
Fulham 1-1 Tottenham
Liverpool 1-2 Chelsea
Man City 1-0 Blackburn
Middlesbrough 2-2 Bolton
Newcastle 1-2 West Ham
Portsmouth 2-0 Charlton
Reading 2-0 Sheff Utd
Wigan 2-1 Everton
Arsenal 1-1 Man Utd

And for wildcards this week, two points per correct first goalscorer in the two Sunday Premiership games (Wigan v Everton and Arsenal v Man Utd).

I'll go for Kevin "Zinedine" Kilbane and Wayne Rooney.

(contributions for "F"'s please for the A-Z of Football. E-mail them to me please. Ta very much).

Andy Bishop for Bury (v Chester City), 2 December 2006

The great Becks debate is here.

Somewhere in this football ground there is a seat with my name on it. Nearby there is a seat with Swiss Toni's name on it.

In 2002, Bury FC were days away from going under. The club offered, for a donation of at least £10 to put donors names on the seats of their Gigg Lane ground. Enough money was raised to save the club, and, after a torrid few years, the smallest club in the League are back on an even keel.

I used to live in the town, and so I have a fond affiliation with the club that started or kick-started the careers of Dean Kiely, David Johnson, Paddy Kenny and David Nugent, amongst many others. Neil Warnock took the club to the heady heights of the First Division in the early 1990s, although recently they have been floundering in the bottom half of League Two.

Anyway, there is an excellent article here about Bury and, specifically, the FA's harsh decision to expel them from this season's FA Cup which cost them a financially lucrative tie with Championship side Ipswich Town.

My stag weekend included their home game with Luton Town in 2000. I saw them lose to Bournemouth in the play-offs in 2003 (a game which Jeff Winter refereed and spent the half hour before kick-off signing autographs with the fans. I have never liked the permatanned idiot since). I have seen Manchester United beat them in a friendly to help raise money (it was a sell-out).

They are a great little club with a very promising young manager and always the second result I look for at ten to five on a Saturday afternoon. They certainly didn't deserve the punishment meted out by the FA, that's for sure.

And someone please buy David Nugent from Preston as Bury have a 20% sell-on clause! That'll keep them going for *months*....

(thanks also to Skif for the photo of Gigg Lane. Bizarrely, I did a Google image search and his photo came up! Thanks mate!)

David Beckham for England (vs Greece), 6 October 2001

Predictions are here.

So that's it then. A 31 year old English footballer has decided to more or less end his serious football career by moving to LA Galaxy to play MLS. Apparently it's a move that is motivated by the challenge and not by the money.... although the deal is worth £128m over 5 years, which works out at something like £3000 per hour.

It's hard not to be cynical about Beckham as a person. He seems to be so in love with his own celebrity that it's difficult not to think that this move is motivated by Hollywood, by some kind of warped notion that somehow he belongs in Beverley Hills and should have a gated mansion next to his good friend Tom Cruise.

But what does this move say about Beckham the footballer? He may never have been a truly great player, but he was certainly the best English footballer for a number of years, and I have never seen one player put in such a remarkable performance as he did for England at Old Trafford against Greece in 2001. Doesn't this move signal a total lack of ambition? A lack of passion for the game? He's only 31 years old and he hasn't won anything significant for nearly 5 years. His move to Real Madrid may have played to his ego by allowing him to play in the same team as Zidane, Figo, Ronaldo and the other Galacticos, but surely he has unfulfilled ambitions? Does he not want to prove Steve McClaren wrong and force his way back into the England squad? Does he not want to demonstrate his worth as a player? To rage against the dying of the light as the shining light in a smaller team that punches far above its weight?

No. Apparently he turned down many offers to play in Italy and in England and elsewhere across Europe, but it was never going to happen was it? To a player as status and image conscious as Beckham, the only way to go from Real Madrid was down, so he's opted out of the slow decline and has just removed himself from the equation entirely by going somewhere that he is going to be the unquestioned star of the show, but somewhere the football is only going to be a minor distraction. He was never going to be turning out for Bolton and putting crosses in for Kevin Davies was he?

I wish him all the best with his latest move, of course. It will be interesting to see if he reverts back to his favoured number 7 shirt - the shirt that he used to covet because of what it represented as a Manchester United player, to follow in the footsteps of players like Eric Cantona and Bryan Robson - or if he elects to continue with the number 23 that he wore in Madrid. I would argue that if he chooses 7, then he's gone for the football. If he chooses 23 - a number more famous in the USA than anywhere else in the world - then he has gone for the celebrity and for the money.

So long and thanks for all the fish, Becks.

---

*** update ***

Check out this very interesting article seeking to debunk how much DB's contract is actually worth....

Julio Baptista for Arsenal (v Liverpool), 9 January 2007

The latest instalment in the excellent A-Z of Football feature is here. Everything from evening kick-offs and engines to exaggeration and escalators.

Predictions for this week, troops:

Blackburn 1-2 Arsenal
Bolton 2-0 Man City
Charlton 2-1 Middlesbrough
Chelsea 2-1 Wigan
Man Utd 2-0 Aston Villa
Sheff Utd 2-1 Portsmouth
Watford 0-2 Liverpool
West Ham 2-1 Fulham
Everton 1-0 Reading
Tottenham 2-0 Newcastle

and it's the latest round of the FA Carlsberg Trophy!

Gravesend 2-0 AFC Wimbledon
Tamworth 1-0 Altrincham

Barry Horne for Everton (v Wimbledon), 9 May 1994

Apologies for the delay, but my favourite current Web feature is back. The CUAS massive tell us what football means to them, alphabetically...

The A-Z Of Football

E is for Evening kick offs - (Skif)

Football is better under lights. Fact. It’s there in the evidence.

One of Subbuteo’s more successful accessories was the set of floodlights they produced. Not crappy trim-on-the-top-of-the-stand lights neither. Not the ones I had anyway. Proper gert fuck-off Eastern European big black brick action. Oh yeah. Every Thursday evening after Scouts; always Slavia Prague away. Just me?

Also where would the away day traveller be without the big bastard floodlights. Sod the intricate cartographic reference prior to the game. Tradition dictates rolling off the train in to a pub, then out again between 2 and 3, looking through bleary eyes for the four tall grey things that will lead you to the ground. Or possibly a goods yard.

Then there are the pundits and players always going on about the brilliance of the ‘European nights’. Frankly, the European bit isn’t the important bit. It’s about the immersing yourself under several layers of clothing. Who says you can’t wear a replica top over a vest, 3 t-shirts and a cricket woolly? Also, it’s about the only time in your footballing life where tea is chosen voluntarily over beer. European nights though? Pah. It might as well be Totnes & Dartington SC as Real Madrid. Ok, that’s definitely just me. I am telling you though; it’s the drippy nose and the breath condensation that make it.

Of course, the floodlit game is always at risk from the power failure but, and I think Fantasy Football League showed this, supporters will always take it in possibly misplaced good humour. Lights go out – up goes a “Rrrraaayyyy.” Your team can be leading 4-0 with half an hour to go, and such an event could cause all the good work to come to nought in an eventual abandonment, but no, the football supporter will react as though their Uncle Geoff has just made an inadvertent knob-gag while delivering the Christmas grace.

I’ve been quite lucky. In all the games I’ve seen (about 450 all told) I’ve never witnessed an abandonment, for any reason. Not for weather, lights out or anything more tragic either I’m glad to say. I’ve been at a couple of games where we’ve had to hang around a bit, once for an ambulance after defender Shaun Gale’s right arm collided with the pitch with an almighty snap in a pre-season friendly at Selsey for one. Another was when the lights went out during an early December home league game against Tamworth. Thankfully there was “an electrician in the house”, and we were able to complete the game. As we were losing 2-0 at the point of the fuse blow, a dance of darkness from our support might have been the ticket. Us lot shuffling about on the terraces for 20 minutes and blowing into our gloves probably didn’t help either way. No Far-East betting syndicates or Rhodesian-born goalkeepers were thought to be involved.

I do enjoy an evening game though, particularly away games. Travelling from Havant to Stafford on a Tuesday night in January once was probably the furthest, Kings Lynn the longest (time wise – stupid lack of East Anglian motorways), but if you win (and we won and drew those respectively) the trip back is always fun. Sure, your buoyancy will eventually flag and you may fall asleep, but lose and you’ll be squeezing the eye-lids to compel yourself into kippage before you’ve even left the car park. Losing 3-1 away to Chippenham, and spending 45 minutes next to a local with a drum, made that trip back feel a whole lot longer than it actually was, I can tell you.

Soon I am moving to London from Liverpool and thus, finally, will now be in the area where Havant & Waterlooville will play a fair amount of their midweek Conference South away games. However my new job will require working one evening a week.

I am typing this last line with my nose, my two hands being tied up with praying that it won’t be a Tuesday.

E is for Exaggeration - (El Tel)

"He was a mile offside", "That was the worst foul that I've seen in a long time", "We've had some shocking referees this season, but that takes the biscuit", "We're by far the greatest team.". I could go on.

Football, impartiality, logic, reason - words that are, in impassioned footballing reportage, uncomfortable bedfellows. Reason is to football, what Barry Davies is to... actually, let's not go there.

As a kid, I remember puzzling over the bizarre outrage that would spew from ordinarily sane men - it was always men - whenever a team was down on its luck - or simply being Hartlepool, as was the case for some in the north east of England. Whether dodging the urinary flow of the Sea of Drunk Geordies or Rowdy Mackems, floating with afternoon idlers around the Brewery
Field of Spennymoor United (as was), or simply watching Match of the Day at home, there was always a comment or two of unmitigated bullshit only seconds away.

To this day, the collective psychology that enables hundreds and thousands of fans to pour scorn upon referees and opponents, when their own team is simply being outplayed, remains a mystery. Maybe its something to do with identity, or ego, or social pressure, or some peculiar inflection of human perception that only becomes manifest when bad singers amass around a
game that has evolved from pig's bladder knockabout. I do not know. But this exaggeration, is it bad?

What would football be without exaggeration, without heartfelt sheer nonsense, without regular robbery? It would be fair and honourable and reasonable, and yet at the same time utterly cold, clinical, and so very unattractive. Can you imagine such a game? A game that might feature, say, the 'progressive' goal-line technology? Foul stuff. Perhaps we would witness cries of "The technologist is a wanker - cheat, cheat, cheat!" and so on.

No, I'm afraid that wouldn't do. As odd as exaggeration remains, I hold it dear to my heart. In recent times, the most entertaining forms of exaggeration that I've been privy to have been from Middlesbrough fans. I nod, I listen, I smile, and I think 'But you're supporting Middlesbrough!'

To me, this exaggeration business shall remain as much a part of football as the adrenaline rush of providing the perfect through-ball, striking the crispest volley, and balking at the culinary horrors that count as modern day 'refreshments'.

In football, E is for Exaggeration, but that's probably because it's the cousin of Emotion.

E is for Escalators - (Lord Bargain)

In the early 1990's, my missus was a Toffee. Thankfully, she wasn't actually a Scouser, rather her affiliation with the blue Merseysiders was borne from her brother; also an Everton fan. And so, on occasion, we would go and watch a match.

In principle, of course, going to watch football with your other half is a Good Thing. However, bear in mind that the time in which we were going was during the darkest moments of the clubs recent history.

For example, you will no doubt remember the 1993/4 season where they only retained their top-flight status in the last ten minutes or so of the season, mainly thanks to the theatrical penalty-box antics of ex Arsenal winger Anders Limpar.

Those were the days of Barry Horne and John Ebbrell. Of Ian Snodin and Gary Ablett.

Ordinarily, we would sit with the "hardcore" home support in the Gwladys Street end of the ground. However, one night we decided to have a change of scenery.

It was 20 September 1994 and Everton had been pitted against Portsmouth in the second round of the Coca-Cola Cup. We weren't back at Uni for another couple of weeks and so we decided to go along to the match. Unfortunately, mainly due to the awful weather, only 14,340 other hardy souls decided to join us.

We collected our tickets and passed through the turnstile into the ground, and then I was faced with something that until last year I had never seen at a football ground before or since.

There was an escalator.

Now then, I have taken a lift to my seat before now. And I have climbed an inordinate number of stairs to get to my position (the climb to my old seat in the Stretford End was about 140 steps) but, until March 2006 at the Amsterdam Arena I had never taken an escalator before. It just seems so, well, bourgeois.

So, I suppose respect is due to Everton for at least taking their long-suffering fans to their seat in comfort. Needless to say they lost the Cup match 3-2 (despite a wonder goal from one Vincent Samways) in one of the most desperate home performances I had ever seen. At least I was taken to my seat in style, though.

E is for Easy - (Paul)

Most of you will have seen Soccer AM on SKY at some point. No doubt many of you remember last year's World of Wrestling inspired Easy chant, which courtesy of messers Lovejoy and Chamberlain found its way on to the terraces all across the country.

It's the chant where fans (normally just after their team has scored) clap their hands together above their heads, keeping their arms straight, and decry the opposition that has been served up before them.

I absolutely detest this chant.

This isn't to say that I dislike singing - far from it. I'd much rather we lived in a world (and attended football matches) where everyone would sing their support for their team. I relish the wit of the terraces, and delight in all aspects of that, including an element of ridiculing the opposition - be it for the rubbish nature of their ground, their team, or their support.

However, I really hate the "Easy" chant. It's straight armed clap which makes everyone look like a deranged seal appealing for a fish, not to mention the condescending nature of the chant, and the deplorable smugness which seems to accompany it.

I can't really explain why this chant, and this chant alone really annoys me, but it does. For me it is the Chelsea of the chant world - inspired by mass marketing, charmless and beloved of smug Londoners.

E is for Engine - (Swiss Toni)

For a sport not normally associated with philology, football is a rather surpising hotbed for some of the most imaginative uses of language in the English speaking world. Graeme Le Saux may have spent his career being accused of homosexuality simply because he read (or claimed to read) the Guardian, but footballers and football pundits have proved time and time again that they are the most amazingly cunning linguists. The prime exponent of this linguistic creativity is of course Ron Atkinson (dealth with here). In big Ron's world, tackles are invariably described as "reducers" unless the tackler has "gone in a bit milky", long balls are variously "reachers" or "hollywood balls" depending on the player and circumstances involved (one man's 'reacher' is invariably David Beckham's 'hollywood').

It's a gloriously varied and many textured world of subtle nuances. Just think of the number of words that are used to describe players and to illustrate their playing styles: midfielders can be gliding artists or hard-tackling enforcers; defenders can be cultured or they can be cloggers; strikers play in the hole or lead the line... They are phrases that may have become cliches, but as descriptions they are hard to beat. Every player may be unique, but football is uniquely equipped with the language and the terms of reference to describe them.

My own personal favourite football-ism is "engine", as in "he's got a good engine". On the face of it, this is a phrase that could be applied to any player with apparently boundless energy and industry. In practice though, it is only ever used when talking about a midfielder - not just any midfielder either, but a tireless box-to-box runner. An artist is for some reason very unlikely to have a good engine. Perhaps it is impossible to both glide elegantly across the turf and to show the sweat and industry necessary to cover the miles. This is functional language at its very best: it's a phrase that is almost completely meaningless, and yet it economically paints such a clear picture that you know exactly what it means. Any fan will know that a player thus described is extremely unlikely to have long, flowing hair. We're talking a crew cut, stubble and lots of sweat. This is a no-nonsense player, probably full of hustle and bustle. We're talking about Ivan Gattusso here, not Francesco Totti.

Perhaps this is the real reason why David Beckham's career has stalled. He styles himself as an artist, but one of his greatest attributes is his engine. He'll never be an enforcer, but he could perhaps have been the perfect fusion of the artist and the box-to-box runner... if only his head hadn't been turned by the glamour of the galactico.... he refuses to see himself as a "water carrier" for anyone else, as if this was something to be disdained (in fact it derives from the term "porteur d'eau" used in cycling to describe the main function of a domestique - a role considered to be vital to the functioning of the team). As a result of this disdain, Beckham is perhaps less of a player than he might have been, and England were certainly less of a team. Owen Hargreaves has no such delusions of grandeur about his role.

E is for enjoyment - (Ben)

I can probably count the number of Newcastle games I’ve thoroughly enjoyed watching on one hand.

But then that’s hardly surprising. Being a football fan is not about enjoyment. It’s not a pleasurable pastime. It’s not about sitting back, crossing your arms and savouring the entertainment as you might a film.

On the contrary, it’s about being perched on the edge of your seat. It’s about a creeping nausea in the pit of your stomach. It’s about always fearing the worst. It’s about gnawing your fingernails down until your fingers are bloodied stumps. It’s about having your nerves strung out and played by a virtuoso guitarist. It’s about being helpless, entirely at the mercy of the endeavours (or otherwise) of others for 90 minutes. Your happiness, fragile and brittle, is in the hands of eleven men – none of whom you know personally, few (if any) of whom share or even understand the sort of connection you have to the club. Might as well give the Chuckle Brothers a chandelier to hang.

The enjoyment only really comes afterwards when, the final whistle having set the result in stone, you can finally relax and bask in the glow of a handsome win. If you’re lucky. If not, that same whistle heralds a tidal wave of despair and a cavalcade of what ifs.

There is a solution, of course: do everything you possibly can to prevent yourself from being sucked into developing an attachment to any particular team. As a neutral, I gather, you can take in matches dispassionately as a form of spectacle and entertainment – and, not having any concern in the final outcome, you can enjoy them.

But where’s the fun in that?

------------------------------------------

Brilliant, yet again. Can I invite contributions for the "F" please? (email them to my profile above). And if you haven't contributed before, please don't be shy. It's easy! easy! easy! (sorry, Paul).

David Edgar for Newcastle Utd (v Manchester Utd), 1 January 2007

Happy New Year!

For those of you who thought the business of predicting the outcomes of football matches was a scientific one, please bear in mind this fact. Paul's last set of predictions read "2-0 to the home team for every game" and that was good enough to come third in the last round of matches....

ahem. Tables are updated, anyhow.

FA Cup time again...

Birmingham 2-1 Newcastle
Chelsea 3-0 Macclesfield
Doncaster 1-1 Bolton
Liverpool 1-0 Arsenal
Nottm Forest 1-1 Charlton
Portsmouth 2-0 Wigan
Tamworth 0-2 Norwich
Cardiff 0-2 Tottenham
Man Utd 2-1 Aston Villa
Sheff Wed 2-1 Man City

and wildcards from the Scottish equivalent:

Berwick 1-2 Falkirk
Stranraer 0-2 Hearts

Guiseppe Biava for Palermo (v Reggina), 10 September 2006

It wouldn't be a cliche-ridden football website without some sort of retrospective on the months past, would it?

eh?

oh.

The CUAS Review of 2006

Well. Where shall we start? Perchance a mixture of the sublime and the ridiculous?

Team of the Year

Buffon, Sagnol, Lahm, Cannavaro, Thuram, Figo, Ribery, Gattuso, Zidane, Klose, Torres.

OK, so not strictly permitted, but hey. They're my rules.

Person Least Likely To Send Ben Thatcher A Christmas Card

Pedro Mendes. Oh come on, you must remember this.

Image of 2006

Best Goal Scored In Training Perhaps Not This Year But Still Deserves Some Admiration

Paolo di Canio. You can see an unbelievable volleyed rabona here.

Roll Call - 2006

Premiership - Chelsea
Championship - Reading
League One - Southend Utd
League Two - Carlisle Utd
Conference - Accrington Stanley
Scottish Premier - Celtic
Scottish First - St Mirren
Scottish Second - Gretna
Scottish Third - Cowdenbeath
FA Cup - Liverpool
League Cup - Manchester Utd
Football League Trophy - Swansea City
Scottish FA Cup - Hearts
Scottish League Cup - Celtic
Champions League - Barcelona
UEFA Cup - Sevilla
World Cup - Italy

Goal of the Year

Despite Matt Taylor and Didier Drogba's valiant attempts, and certainly excluding Javier Mascherano's effort for Argentina in the World Cup (oooh! twenty backwards passes!) my Goal of the Year goes to Palermo's Guiseppe Biava for this outrageous flying backheel scissor kick. Absolutely amazing.

The Coldest I Have Ever Been At A Football Match Ever

3rd March 2006. A Friday evening at the de Goffert Stadium, Nijmegen. I genuinely thought I might die of frostbite in the company of NEC and AZ Alkmaar. Or be buried alive in the snow surrounding the ground on the way out.

(photographic evidence of this here)

Underperforming Flop Letdown XI

Robinson, Neville, Cole, Terry, Ferdinand, Hargreaves, Gerrard, Beckham, Lampard, Cole, Crouch.

oh come on. It could hardly have been anyone else, could it?

Managers Who Aren't In The Job They Were In At The Start Of 2006 But Who Suddenly Look Actually Quite Good In The Light Of Their Replacements

Alan Curbishley
Sven Goran Eriksson
Alex McLeish

Best German Football TV Presenter Met In A Pub In Cologne

This is Gisbert Baltes who bought me and my good friend Sarah some kolsch during the Spain v France match at this summers' World Cup. A very, very nice man.

Oh My Word! You Have So Much Larger An Opinion Of Yourself And Your Varying Talents (Such As They Are) Than Anyone Else

Rio Ferdinand.

Not content with his "hilarious" TV wind-up show (read all about it here), he proceeded to release his autobiography with the tag line "The Most Talked about footballer Of His Generation".

What a load of old b*llocks.

World Cup, and you f***ed it up, World Cup, and you f***ed it up....

Graham "Three Cards" Poll.

Ha ha ha.

Post Match Interview Of The Year

"This is just amazing. F***ing hell, I just can't believe it. It is a brilliant experience and a great feeling to have kept us in the Cup."

A young Micah Richards shocks Garth Crooks into "pretending to be his Dad mode" after his last minute equaliser kept Manchester City in the FA Cup.

Most Unfortunate Moment For The Big Screen At The Cologne Fanfest To Go Off During The England v Ecuador World Cup Match

Hows about this one?

Player of the Year

OK, so he did a reasonable job in Juventus' defence (for all the good that did), had three or four useful games at the World Cup before failing to plug an increasingly shambolic Real Madrid defence. So, Fabio Cannavaro, close but no cigar.

Similarly, I can't possibly go for Didier Drogba. He may (finally) be showing what he is capable of, but until he quits the histrionics and the diving, he'll never be anyone's idea of Player of the Year.

Who else? Candidates from Barcelona's Champions League triumph have been let down by their form since or their World Cup showing (Ronaldinho, Xavi, Messi), Henry was sublime until Big Games came along (and then got the hump) and Cristiano Ronaldo has proved that Ferguson's your manager of choice post World Cup based vitriol but still a bit tetchy and selfish for my liking.

So, in a vaguely partisan way but also in an overdue "lifetime achievement" type way, I think it's time to salute one of our own. A little fella who has been, I would argue, England's consistently best player over the past ten years. Unassuming, tough, talented, skilful, undemonstrative, magical and with great vision. A guy who (with the exception of his sometimes mistimed tackling) is a great role model for young footballers. A man who Zinedine Zidane claimed was the best English footballer of his generation. Indeed a man who, had he been given Zidane's role in his international line-up, may have been able to have a similar impact.

Yep, my Player of the Year is Paul Scholes.

Any other highlights of 2006 that deserve a mention?...

Happy New Year.

Nigel Reo-Coker for West Ham (v Manchester Utd), 16 December 2006

Interesting stuff here about Joey Barton's mates in the England camp and the man who got three red cards.

Last predictions of the year - will be back for FA Cup Third Round weekend...

Arsenal 2-0 Blackburn
Aston Villa 0-1 Man Utd
Fulham 1-1 West Ham
Liverpool 3-0 Watford
Man City 1-0 Bolton
Middlesbrough 2-1 Charlton
Newcastle 1-2 Tottenham
Portsmouth 2-1 Sheff Utd
Reading 2-1 Everton
Wigan 0-2 Chelsea

and as it's winter we'll go for the various Robins this week:

Cheltenham 1-2 Bristol City
Macclesfield 1-2 Swindon

Have a great Christmas, all, and thanks for continuing to pop by!

Stephen O'Donnell for Clyde (v Dundee), 16 September 2006

This is ex Scotland international Andy McLaren. Until today, he played up front for Scottish league side Dundee. Today, he has had his contract terminated by "mutual consent".

"Why?" you may cry. Personal reasons? Offer from another club?

No.

Andy McLaren was sent off three times in the same game last Saturday.

His first red card came for kicking out at Clyde defender Eddie Malone. Then he received a second red card for punching Michael McGowan as he was leaving the pitch. Not content with a brace of reds, he then received a third red card for directing a volley of abuse at referee Dougie McDonald.

Whilst clearly a tad naughty, there is a little bit of me that likes the idea of "well, if I am going to be sent off, I may as well do it in style". Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb...

Joey Barton for Manchester City (vs Fulham), 18 November 2006

Predictions are here

“I can’t get my head round that; England did nothing in that World Cup, so why were they bringing books out? ‘We got beat in the quarter-finals. I played like shit. Here’s my book.’ Who wants to read that? I don’t. I watched the World Cup and that wasn’t a team. It seemed to be individuals playing for themselves.”

Joey Barton has never struck me as the shiniest pebble on the beach, but is that not the most incisive piece of analysis of England's World Cup squad that you've read? It's good that we're not the only people who think that they're a bunch of spoiled, greedy, grasping complacent tossers then*

I'm sure Fat Frank, $tevie G, Cashley and the rest of them will be welcoming him into the squad with open arms (my tip? Just keep him away from the cigars....).

* yes, I believe this is the same Joey Barton that held Manchester City to ransom over his new contract.

Matthew Taylor for Portsmouth (v Everton), 9 December 2006

It is with great pride that I can today announce that this website is now the number one Google search result for:

"I Hate Didier Drogba".

*beams with pride*

Anyway. predictions ahoy....

Arsenal 2-0 Portsmouth
Aston Villa 1-1 Bolton
Charlton 1-2 Liverpool
Newcastle 2-0 Watford
Reading 1-1 Blackburn
Wigan 2-0 Sheff Utd
Everton 0-2 Chelsea
Man City 1-0 Tottenham
West Ham 1-2 Man Utd
Fulham 2-1 Middlesbrough

and a couple of wildcards featuring managerless (rudderless) clubs:

Hull 2-0 Cardiff
Port Vale 2-0 Brentford

and a bonus two points if anyone can guess the correct first goalscorer in Sunday's Rangers v Celtic Old Firm game at Ibrox....

Maciej Zurawski

(Can I also request for the final time any outstanding contributions for "E" on the A-Z of Football from anyone who hasn't thus far? Email them to me via my profile above. Ta very much.)

Steven Pressley for Heart of Midlothian (v Celtic), 1 January 2006

Is there a more principled and better role model for footballers in the UK right now than Steven Pressley?

The ex-Hearts captain - the "cement" that stuck the club together (according to Hearts owner Vladimir Romanov) has this week been released from the club.

His crime? In late October with Hearts second in the Scottish Premier League, Romanov declared that if the side didn't beat Dunfermline Athletic the following day he would put the whole team up for sale. The game ended in a 1-1 draw.

After this statement, Pressley (flanked by team-mates and fellow internationals Craig Gordon and Paul Hartley) stated "I have tried, along with the coaching staff and certain colleagues, to implement the correct values and disciplines, but it has become an impossible task. There is only so much a coaching staff, a captain and certain colleagues can do without the full backing, direction and coherence of the manager and those running the football club.

"While, publicly, I have expressed the need for unity, behind the scenes I have made my concerns abundantly clear. The last two years have been very testing for the players . . . morale, understandably, is not good and there is significant unrest in the dressing room."

Since that statement, he has been stripped of the captaincy, dropped and this week released from the club altogether.

In these days of money-chasing self-publicising footballers, to hear a principled and decent man stand up for himself and, crucially, his team-mates against a moneyed bully was refreshing and ought to be applauded. If only there were more like him in the game, eh?

Jonathan de Guzman for Feyenoord (v Heerenveen), 3 December 2006

Perhaps we should eschew the boring Premiership and all go and watch the Dutch Eredivisie instead.

The results of the wildcard matches in last weeks predictions league were (videprinter brackets and letters ahoy):

Az Alkmaar 5 - 0 Excelsior
Ajax 6 - 0 Willem II
Feyenoord 4 - 3 Heerenveen

An average of six goals per game. That's more like it. Heh heh heh.

This weeks selection for your perusal:

Blackburn 2-1 Newcastle
Bolton 2-1 West Ham
Liverpool 3-0 Fulham
Man Utd 1-0 Man City
Middlesbrough 1-2 Wigan
Portsmouth 2-1 Everton
Tottenham 2-0 Charlton
Watford 1-0 Reading
Chelsea 2-0 Arsenal
Sheff Utd 0-0 Aston Villa

and from the FIFA World Club Championship (any more pointless tournament on the calendar?)
Auckland City 0-2 Al Ahly Cairo
Jeonbuk Motors 1-1 Club America

Matt Tubbs for Salisbury City (v Nottingham Forest), 3 December 2006

I don't know whether it is just me, but when I was watching Ricky Hatton and Amir Khan draw the magic balls for the FA Cup third round draw, I couldn't seem to get even remotely excited about it.

I know a lot has been made about the "magic of the Cup" having been lost in recent years, particularly with bigger clubs playing second-string sides against lower level opposition. It wasn't even so much that, more that I couldn't bring myself to get excited about anything other than one or two of the matches.

OK, so maybe it was an unlucky draw. It seemed like most of the ties were drawn between two teams of a similar stature or league standing (Preston v Sunderland, Southend v Barnsley, Everton v Blackburn, Portsmouth v Wigan, QPR v Luton etc etc etc) or that the minnows left in the draw got landed with teams which would have raised more groans of disappointment than cheers in their club bars (with the exception of Macclesfield Town).

So, of course Liverpool v Arsenal is the tie everyone is singling out, although more intriguing may be Newcastle's visit to Birmingham or Tottenham's visit to Cardiff. Winless Macclesfield will no doubt take the hopes of every underdog with them before getting tonked by Chelsea's C team.

Anyway, of the 32 games scheduled for that weekend, I can't recall a year where I care less about the outcome of so many of the ties. Shame, really.

Michael Ballack for Chelsea (v Bolton Wanderers), 29 November 2006

OK, predictions updated. Bear in mind that anything is possible - I was previously leading but have scored 5 points in the last month whereas Swiss has scored 27 in the last three weeks. A long way to go....

Arsenal 2-1 Tottenham
Blackburn 2-0 Fulham
Middlesbrough 1-2 Man Utd
Portsmouth 1-1 Aston Villa
Reading 2-1 Bolton
Sheff Utd 2-1 Charlton
Wigan 0-1 Liverpool
Everton 1-0 West Ham
Man City 2-0 Watford

and we shall go Dutch this week:

AZ 2-0 Excelsior
Ajax 3-0 Willem II
Feyenoord 2-1 Heerenveen

Can I invite further contributions for "E" for the A-Z of football please? Ta. Email them to me if you'd be so kind....

Louis Saha for Manchester Utd (v Chelsea), 26 November 2006

So, the Premiership's two contenders (sorry Bolton fans, I don't think you'll win it) met yesterday at Old Trafford and, at the risk of being cliched, it was a game of two halves.

When the final whistle blew, the bottom line was that you couldn't so much as put a cigarette paper between the two sides. United dominated and controlled the first half and Chelsea the second. Mourinho was right (as he increasingly rarely is) by claiming that it was a better result for Chelsea than United. The fact remains that United have played Chelsea, Arsenal and Liverpool at home (one win, one draw, one defeat) wheareas Chelsea have those games to come.

I also thought that the respective substitutes benches told a tale. If United suffer an injury or suspension to, say, Ronaldo, Rooney or Saha, we are going to be pretty knackered. Yesterdays bench - your options against the Champions - Wes Brown, John O'Shea, Mikael Silvestre and Darren Fletcher. Chelsea brought on both Arjen Robben and Joe Cole.

So, a fair result. I know we have talked about Chelsea before, but Peter Kenyon's assertion that Chelsea are on course to be "the biggest club in the world" ought to be treated with the derision it deserves. Sure, in ten years they may have the biggest income or turnover (or however Deloitte and Touche measure these things) but that is absolutely nothing to do with being a big club. Being a big club involves having a history, a tradition, a style. I could name lots and lots of "bigger" clubs than Chelsea off the top of my head. How about Liverpool. Everton. Aston Villa. Nottingham Forest (Chelsea have 25,000 turn up in the third division? I sincerely doubt it). Rangers. Wolves (three league titles also) but with a significant history.

The biggest club in the world? Do me a favour. They're not the biggest club in London. Watching Chelsea yesterday, it occurred to me that they are the football equivalent of watching Pete Sampras. They are mercilessly efficient and clinical, technically brilliant, should be lauded for their success but you watch the crowds flock to watch Andre Agassi on the adjacent court. I'm not suggesting United are the Agassi (a case for Arsenal, surely) but we are maybe the Boris Becker. Initially loathed, successful on occasion and increasingly likeable in the later years.

And, finally, I hate Didier Drogba and Ashley Cole. Drogba is everything about football I despise - for a big burly fella he does find himself lying on the pitch a lot of the time. And, of course, play is stopped, the physio and stretcher is brought on and then he miraculously recovers. He is tetchy, petty and looking for trouble. Considering this season he has proved that he is a talented player, he is doing himself no favours.

And Ashley Cole? Dear oh dear. I did enjoy calling him a "w*nker"and his wife a "Geordie slag" for forty five minutes, though....

Seol Ki-Hyeon for Reading (vs Charlton), 18th November 2006

Wothca. Predictions time again peeps.

Aston Villa 1-1 Middlesbrough
Bolton 1-1 Arsenal
Charlton 1-2 Everton
Fulham 1-1 Reading
Liverpool 2-1 Man City
West Ham 2-1 Sheff Utd
Man Utd 1-1 Chelsea
Newcastle 0-1 Portsmouth
Tottenham 2-1 Wigan

wildcards:

Dunfermline 0-2 Aberdeen
Nottingham Forest 3-1 Millwall
Grimsby 2-1 Accrington Stanley
Grays Athletic 3-2 Altrincham

and, er....

the single that will be at number #27 in the UK singles chart announced on Sunday.

George Michael & Mutya - "This is Not Real Love"

... and I know it looks bad, but you shouldn't judge a pitch until both sides have batted once. There's a long way to go yet.

Alan Shearer for Newcastle United (v Arsenal), 18 December 2001

Heh heh heh.

If you do a Google search for "Alan Shearer", we appear on the first page of options.

Immediately behind Alan Shearer's reference page on the International Movie Database website.

Sorry, that just amused me....

David Beckham for England (v Greece), 6 October 2001

Predictions will be updated in due course....

OK, folks, time for another instalment in our season-long gallop through the alphabet to determine what football means to us all.

The A-Z of Football

D is for 'Direct Free-Kick' (El Tel)

It's Manchester, it's mid-afternoon on Saturday 6th October, 2001, and I'm on my way to meet Girlfriend (as was). I've just got time for a minor diversion. I step into a rough as hell pub, just off Piccadilly Gardens. I want to know what the England score is - the match should be about to
finish. Big men drink big drinks. The atmosphere is very tense. I look up. England are losing 2-1. Steven Gerrard fires a volley that is easily saved by the Greek keeper. Unbelievable - England are about to fail to progress to the 2002 World Cup Finals. It's well into injury time. Might
be a good idea to step out of the pub now. I'm sensing that reactions at the whistle could be ugly, as are the bar - they look edgy. A whistle, a chance, a direct free-kick. Hearts are in mouths. Shouts come up for Beckham - 'Go on, son', 'Do not fuck this up', 'Come on my lad'. The number
7 places the ball on the turf, takes four paces back, looks up, focuses,
chooses his spot.

And. He. Scores. The place erupts.

'Yeeeeessssssssssssssss'. I'm swept up into the arms of a man whose forearms are as wide as my thighs. From about 6 inches, this twenty-five stone meathead is screaming 'You beautyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy' in my direction.

It's loud and it's smelly, but I don't mind - this is fucking fantastic. A few more moments of sheer delirium and I'm released from the clutches of my fellow man. At times like these, all supporters are equal - it's just that some happen to be more moist and acrid than others. I depart the pub on a high and move towards Oldham Street with a spring in my step.

I meet girlfriend, she comments that I'm looking well. 'Must be love' I say.

The direct free-kick - gorgeous.

D is for diving (Ben)

As inevitable as a moment of supreme arrogance from Graham Poll, a display of graceless twattishness from El Hadji Diouf and a touchline ban for Neil Warnock is that period of the season when diving becomes the hot topic.

Commentators refer sarcastically to “amateur dramatics”, but that does the perpetrators something of a disservice – after all, if there’s such a thing as a professional foul, then some players deserve to be referred to as professionals when it comes to their theatrical talents too.

Not wanting to fuel Chelsea’s persecution complex, but they harbour several such professionals in their ranks. Didier Drogba even brazenly admitted diving last year, the retraction of his comments and the subsequent excuses unconvincing in the extreme. Arjen Robben is equally fond of a tumble, and the “clash” between himself and Liverpool’s Jose Reina which left the Dutchman writhing around on the turf clutching his face would have been laughable if it wasn’t so cynical. And then there was Cristiano Ronaldo in England’s World Cup quarter-final, crashing to the deck every time an opponent came near him.

But here lies the root of the problem. If the tabloids and their incandescent columnists are to be believed, diving – or, to give it its more pretentious name, “simulation” – is something akin to a disease which has been carried into the country by Johnny Foreigner. That’s why Ronaldo was made the scapegoat for England’s exit from the 2006 World Cup – even though that exit had nothing to do with his persistent cheating and diving and everything to do with Wayne Rooney’s temper and impetuosity and our chronic inability to take penalties.

Diving, it’s implied, is an affront to our British sense of decency, honesty and fair play. But, of course, that’s a load of nonsense. Alongside Drogba and Robben Chelsea have the two Coles Ashley and Joe, both established England internationals and both regular proponents of the Fosby Flop. Only two weeks ago Everton’s England striker Andy Johnson took a dive to win a penalty against Sheffield Utd. Our very own Steven Taylor feigned injury against Man Utd to avoid giving away a penalty for blatant handball, and more famously (and ludicrously) went down as if hit by a sniper when blocking a goalbound shot with his arm in the infamous April 2005 defeat at home to Villa.

We can talk all we like about how disgraceful diving is, how play-acting is ruining the game – but the fact is that we have to stop condoning it as and when it suits us. Diving is not cheating in one instance, and “playing the game” or “being canny” in another; it is cheating full stop. It IS eradicable.

But, given the vast sums that hang on every top level match, the likelihood of managers and players being unanimous in their condemnation of diving when there are vital points and prizes at stake is slim indeed.

D is for The Dell, doggers and Brian Deane - (Skif )

This entry was originally going to be just about doggers, meaning ugly, unpretentious, combative defenders and midfielders. I’ve always loved this term, but it appears not to have truly entered the day-to-day footy vocab, as an internet search for examples and, perhaps a little etymology, throws up very little, although Owen Hargreaves was recently referred to as such in the Sun it appears (to my mind not entirely correctly).

One thing I did find out though is that a ‘dogger’ is one who applies the ancient ‘bulldogging’ technique in bullfighting, Thessalonian fighters even captured applying the move in Greek sculpture. In current US practice, the ‘dogger will leap from his steed onto the bull, and twist its head, using the horns, down and sideways to achieve a ‘fall’. I don’t remember Brian Kilcline, leviathan dogger from yer 1980’s, ever trying that, but then I think I’d rather go in for a 50/50 with a bull, it’s mouth bubbling with saliva, than with ‘Killer’.

Sadly, ever since Stan Collymore mentioned in passing that his keenness on a bit of outdoor action is probably more keenly felt away from the football field, the term has shifted and, as such, saying things like, well like “Brian Kilcline: leviathan dogger” will probably see you quickly served with a writ. See you in court, then.

My most treasured dogger memories pre-date my association with Havant & Waterlooville. Between the ages of 8 and 19, my spiritual football home was The Dell, a beautiful little ground, and home briefly to such elementary talents as Terry Hurlock and Neil Ruddock, both of whom had prior association with Millwall. And it showed.

I feel very privileged that I knew The Dell before the Taylor report put the kybosh on it and, although my feelings for Southampton have long since died away after discovering my real love, watching from the Milton End terrace was pretty special, something which has not, could not, be recreated in the New Delli’s plastic bowl. I remember one Friday night match, just before Christmas, against Notts County (yes, a top-flight league game, youngsters) in the final season before the Premiership kicked in. A 1-1 draw in the end, but I remember it more for it being the night I became fully aware of the partisan ways of the football supporter. Neil Ruddock was tunnelled for a head-butt and the Milton End, in front of whom it took place, went into furious uproar. I was stood there, aged 13, and able to see that it was as plain as the nose splattered across the County player’s face, that Razor was either guilty, or very guilty.

I also once saw Vincent Jones (possibly the king of doggers) strut his stuff at the Dingly, for Sheffield United. One of his major contributions to the day’s entertainment was to spend the warm up repeatedly trying to welt a football at the marching brass band’s tuba player, an endeavour in which he was ultimately to prove successful. Think it was his debut too as the scrum for his autograph as he got off the team-coach was pretty hectic, so much so that after I had obtained his scrawl, the arm with which I carried my autograph book was thrust up in the air by a fellow desperate collector. The book’s skyward progress was soon impeded, by one of Brian Deane’s eyeballs. Thus I ran.

It wasn’t just the utilitarian types that I remember though. Although I only went to The Dell about 15 times in my decade as a follower, I was lucky enough to witness a teenage Alan Shearer; several great Le Tissier goals (didn’t need to be a regular for that); a Brian Clough managed Nottingham Forest side and the great gargoyle himself, John Burridge, probably the ultimate in goalkeeping doggers.

The new regulations and the need to expand eventually put paid to The Dell, while the influx of money, and foreign artisans, into the Premiership mean that yer classic, hard-case, top-flight dogger is a thing of the past. Both will be sadly missed.

I actually saw what I have been led to believe was the last competitive game at the Dell, but it didn’t involve Saints. It was the 2001 Hampshire Senior Cup final between Andover and, you’ve guessed it, Havant & ‘Ville.

Sunrise, sunset.

D is for Davies (Lord Bargain)

I know I have been here before on this site, but I have always hated Barry Davies. I know this is a bit like having a go at cute kittens playing with wool, but he is a prize idiot.

Thankfully, he has retired from football commentary. Although the same cannot be said for all the other sports which suffer from Barry’s patronising musings. I have heard him commentate at Wimbledon, on ice-dancing, on obscure Olympic events. The BBC applaud his wide ranging skill and general sporting knowledge. I say “jack of all trades, master of none”.

When was the last time you heard Motty commentating on pursuit cycling? Or badminton? Quite right. Never. Motty is a proper one sport commentator. He knows his football and he sticks to it.

Davies? No such luck. How can he be authoritative about football when his next pay cheque might be coming for doing the parallel bars at the UK Gymnastic Trials or, God help us, commentating on the Armistice Day commemorations?

The problem with Barry Davies is that he applies his (and I use the word very loosely) “style” to everything he does. As I see it, this style involves:

1. Setting the scene by using language that makes it sound like you’re watching a 1950s police drama.

2. Patronising every mistake, foul or infringement by using words like “quite unnecessary”.

3. Spending five minutes saying nothing because you think the viewer respects you for doing that (when actually what they want is commentary which is what you are being paid for)

4. After the five minutes of silence, making a noise that sounds like you’ve just been walloped in the gonads.It’s the noise that angers me the most. Yelling “oooooooooooooooooooooof” when something of importance happens. Making a career out of the noises Paul Whitehouse makes as the “suits you” character is frankly preposterous.

I actually like the new breed of commentators – Jonathan Pearce, Simon Brotherton et al and so the days of having to listen to Barry Davies telling us it was much more exciting in the 1960s, waiting for a triple salchow and then exhaling a noise like Thomas the Tank Engine are, mercifully, behind us.

D is for Directors (Paul)

In any A-Z of football, it's a sad reflection of the modern game that at least one letter should be devoted to the money men. To that end, D is for Directors, the faceless (or not so faceless) people in suits who actually run the football clubs we hold dear.

It is they who make the key decisions, approve contract negotiations, control ticket prices and generally run the clubs. If you get a good board of directors (and with them a good chairman) then you can be satisfied that your club is unlikely to appear in the news for the wrong reasons, and that your club will, in all probability, enjoy a reasonably successful period on the pitch.

However, if you get a crap board, and in particular a chairman who thinks he knows everything there is to know about football, and seeks to proffer his views to anyone who will listen (e.g. Sky Sports news) then you can guarantee that your club will be regarded with contempt because the leadership at the top is rotten.

Thankfully for football, the list of chairmen who are widely known (and therefore reviled) is thankfully short, but for fans of one of those clubs whose chairmen like the sound of their own voice, every utterance is inevitably met with a groan and a burning wish that the pillock in charge would shut up.

As a Newcastle fan, the words "Freddie Shepherd says..." make my heart sink more than watching Titus Bramble try and deal with a long ball over the top as an opposing striker bears down on him.

D is for Defenders (Swiss Toni)

Football’s marquee players always seem to be the glamour boys, those flash harries whose tendency to drift in and out of games is sometimes counter-balanced by the odd moment of absolute genius and the occasional wonder-goal. The Italians would call them ‘fantasita’ players – your Thierry Henrys, your Ronaldinhos, your Francesco Tottis. They’re all very well, I suppose, but, in common with the Italians, I prefer to salute the more bread-and-butter heroes at the other end of the pitch. They may not look as good in a pony tail or a head band and they may be less likely to get that L’Oreal modelling contract, but defenders are the rock upon which football is founded.

Imagine, if you will, a game without defenders (Newcastle fans and players of any of the FIFA series of video games may find this easier than most). Every game would have the kind of scoreline that requires clarification on the vidiprinter.

Manchester United 8 (eight) – Arsenal 6 (six)
Watford 9 (nine) – Bolton Wanderers 7 (seven)
And so on…

It sounds brilliant in principle, but it would be a complete disaster. One of the great glories of football is that a goal is still a valuable currency; it still means something. In a game like basketball, it’s considered odd if a team doesn’t score after every attack, but in football, we still celebrate the clean sheet. If you keep a clean sheet, you can’t be beaten. It’s a simple truth for a simple game. A hard-fought 1-0 victory is worth every bit as much as a 4-0 walkover, and is in some ways so much more satisfying.

And who do we have to thank for this marvel? Defenders of course (and goalkeepers, but they’re a bit further down the alphabet). Those ugly, shaven-headed, broken-nosed lumps at the back. Your Jaap Staams and your Steve Bruces, your Tony Adams and your Terry Butchers. They might have slightly less ball control and vision than their more illustrious colleagues, but they are the heartbeat of every successful side. Chelsea might be garlanded with jewels like Shevchenko, Ballack, Lampard and Robben, but it’s John Terry who drives them forward with his sheer refusal to be beaten.

Is it any coincidence that, in the main, the sides with the prettiest defenders are the ones that concede the most goals? I don’t think so….

It’s the ‘Catanaccio’, the bolted door defence that makes football special. Goals are precious, and have to be earned - defenders are there to make sure that they are.

.............................................................................

I have said it before, but I love this feature. Can I have a supply of "E"s please? (heh heh) And if you haven't contributed before, it would be great if you would.

William Gallas for Arsenal (vs Liverpool), 12th November 2006

Predictions time again folks:

Arsenal 2-0 Newcastle
Chelsea 3-0 West Ham
Everton 1-0 Bolton
Man City 1-1 Fulham
Middlesbrough 1-1 Liverpool
Portsmouth 2-0 Watford
Reading 2-0 Charlton
Sheff Utd 0-2 Man Utd
Blackburn 2-1 Tottenham
Wigan 1-1 Aston Villa

Wildcards:

Gravesend 1-2 Oxford Utd
Hearts 0-1 Rangers

England 22-18 S.Africa (oval ball. I don't care what you think. They're always more interesting games than their football equivalent, even if they are nearly as rubbish at the moment. And Andy Robinson is quite an interesting parallel with Second-Choice Steve.)

and.... next to be eliminated from Strictly Come Dancing. It's gotta be Peter Schmeichel, innit?

(in case you are in the least bit interested, someone called Nikitta was eliminated from X-Factor last weekend)

Frank Lampard for Chelsea (v Aston Villa), 8 November 2006

We had a bit of a chinwag a while back about why we hated Chelsea.

It's not getting any easier to love them, is it? Good old Ashley Cole has been sent out on their behalf this week, complaining that the ref victimised them in their defeat to Tottenham on Sunday. "When I was at Arsenal and we started to win things, the referees started to question our discipline and give us yellow cards. I have come to Chelsea and it's exactly the same. It's definitely to do with the team that's winning most. "

Oh, get stuffed you money-grabbing little tosser. Dear oh dear. Chelsea's complaining and inability to take defeat gracefully is becoming somewhat tiresome.

For a great and wholly unfair anti-Chelsea rant, have a look at Simon Hattenstone's article in the Guardian this week. Excellent.

Anyway, enough of the self-obsessed, whining no-gooders. Here are some predictions instead.

Blackburn 1-1 Man Utd
Chelsea 3-0 Watford
Everton 1-0 Aston Villa
Man City 2-1 Newcastle
Middlesbrough 1-1 West Ham
Portsmouth 2-1 Fulham
Sheff Utd 1-1 Bolton
Wigan 2-0 Charlton
Arsenal 2-0 Liverpool
Reading 0-1 Tottenham

and some wildcards from the first round of the FA Cup...

Kettering 1-3 Oldham
Newport County 0-2 Swansea
Weymouth 1-0 Bury

and after the success of last weeks non-footballing wildcard, this weeks is "who will be eliminated from X-Factor on Saturday night?"

The MacDonald Brothers

Trevor Cherry for Leeds United (v Liverpool), 10 August 1974

A while back I mentioned I had decided to read some interesting football books, and the first choice had been a good one.

I have just finished this astonishing work.

I am not sure where to start. The Guardian's Richard Williams describes it thus: "Amazing. I can't imagine there's ever been a more extraordinary football novel in any language".

That pretty much sums it up. It is a fictional account (if based on facts) of Brian Howard Clough's forty-four days in charge of Leeds United in the early 1970's. Whether you liked Cloughie or Leeds, it is a sensational read and I would urge anyone out there to give it a try. You really won't be disappointed.

Sports Book of the Year. Fact.

Yemi Odubade for Oxford Utd (vs Cambridge Utd), 20th October 2006

Sorry, late again. I'm not trying to increase my chances of winning by doing this, and even if I was, it doesn't bloody work!

Predictions:

Bolton 1-1 Wigan
Charlton 2-1 Man City
Fulham 2-2 Everton
Liverpool 3-1 Reading
Man Utd 2-0 Portsmouth
Newcastle 1-0 Sheff Utd
Watford 0-1 Middlesbrough
Aston Villa 2-1 Blackburn
Tottenham 0-2 Chelsea
West Ham 0-2 Arsenal

wildcards

Forest 2-1 Brentford
Boston Utd 1-1 Notts County
Oxford Utd 3-1 Aldershot
Celtic 2-1 Hearts

and

England 19 - 32 New Zealand

Colin Larkin for Chesterfield (vs West Ham), 24th October 2006

Sorry it's a bit late this week, but here are this week's predictions.

Arsenal 2-0 Everton
Bolton 1-3 Man Utd
Fulham 1-1 Wigan
Liverpool 1-1 Aston Villa
Newcastle 1-0 Charlton
Portsmouth 2-0 Reading
Sheff Utd 0-3 Chelsea
Watford 1-2 Tottenham
West Ham 0-1 Blackburn

Wildcards from FA Qualifying:

Brackley 0-2 Havant and W
Dagenham & Redbridge 1-2 Oxford Utd
Exeter 1-2 AFC Wimbledon
Grays Athletic 3-1 Bromley

Good luck. Personally I think I've got a better chance in the Euro Millions rollover, but there you go. Just don't copy my predictions!

Didier Drogba for Chelsea (v Barcelona), 18 October 2006

I was chatting to my boss, a Chelsea fan, last week. He used to go regularly, had the shirt, followed the club since he was a boy.

His biggest gripe? He hates the way that everyone hates Chelsea.

When Mourinho took over, I'm not sure anyone (other than for partial historical/rivalry reasons) hated Chelsea. Now, everyone does. What happened in the meantime?

Clearly, the Special One himself is largely to blame. From being an honest breath of fresh air to the Premiership, his outbursts and paranoia have got steadily worse and more ill-advised, culminating with his most recent attack on the efforts of the Berkshire Ambulance Service in responding to Petr Cech's injury at Reading last week. He can't seem to stop himself any more.

Why else do we hate them? Successful teams always suffer from jealousy and "automatic" dislike (as a United fan we have experienced this for years) but with Chelsea it goes above and beyond that. Their players started off being impressive and, on the whole, well-behaved, but now we have the histrionics of Drogba and Robben and the crude challenging of Essien and Boularouz. They signed Ashley Cole, possibly currently the least popular player around. Peter Kenyon talks about them as a "business" and about "margins" and "markets". Their endless cash pot has completely skewed the transfer market in Europe.

So, why do you hate Chelsea? Or maybe you don't?

Kevin Phillips for West Bromwich Albion (vs Ipswich), 14th October 2006

Prediction time again people.

Let's be having you.

Aston Villa 2-0 Fulham
Charlton 0-0 Watford
Chelsea 2-0 Portsmouth
Everton 2-1 Sheff Utd
Wigan 1-1 Man City
Blackburn 1-1 Bolton
Man Utd 2-1 Liverpool
Middlesbrough 1-1 Newcastle
Reading 0-2 Arsenal
Tottenham 2-1 West Ham

And wildcards.

Weymouth 0-2 Rushden & Diamonds
Roma 2-1 Chievo
Real Madrid 0-1 Barcelona

And the original classico:

West Bromwich Albion 2-2 Wolverhampton Wanderers