David Platt for England (v Belgium), 26 June 1990

With the start of the English season just around the corner, I thought it an opportune moment to continue our journey through the lexicon of football with the latest instalment in the always excellent series...

The A-Z of Football

I is for Infiltration (Paul)

I've only done this a couple of times, but like I suspect a lot of fans who have lived away from their team's ground, I've attended games in the "wrong" part of the ground.

As a Newcastle fan, getting tickets to away games can sometimes prove tricky, and so, on two occasions, I've been forced to go undercover in order to watch my team play in the flesh.

Given my age, it's perhaps inevitable that my two instances of infiltration have come following the advent of all-seater stadia and as such the relative loss of atmosphere which follows left me feeling slightly safer than I might have been in days of terraces. As an indication that such deception was possible, I was once accompanied on to the Gallowgate terrace, in Newcastle's first season in the premiership by my Manchester United supporting cousin. As Man Utd took the lead in front of us his arms went up in celebration, only for the realisation that should he express his jubilation, an entire stand of disgruntled Geordies would be expressing their displeasure through the medium of punching (myself included - survival of the fittest and all that), so he quickly turned his cheer into a groan and clutched his head in mock anguish. Happily for me, Newcastle equalised though an Andy Cole header, and with honours even family harmony (and my cousin's skull) remained intact.

Obviously, this experience showed me that it was possible to stand amongst the enemy and survive. So, several years later as a student I took the opportunity to visit the cultural haven that is Coventry and their delightful Highfield Road ground. I've never been to a stadium with a worse atmosphere (and I've been to Highbury several times). The only chant which the Coventry fans mustered all afternoon was printed in the programme.

The game itself was typical Newcastle. Behind after Dion Dublin had cunningly hidden behind Shay Given, only to nip round and roll the ball into the net once the Irishman through it down to kick it forward, Newcastle had fought back only to go behind again, setting the stage for Robert Lee to hammer a thirty yard equaliser with minutes to go. Surprising my natural desire to leap up and punch the air I sat, head in hands, grinning like a Cheshire cat. However, such was the apathy of the home fans that several other clandestine Geordies had no such compunction about hiding their true colours - and seemed to suffer no ill affects either.

Encouraged by this, I arranged for a group of friends to attend a match between Newcastle and Leicester at Filbert Street a couple of years later. Unfortunately we only managed to get three away tickets between seven of us. So I phoned up the Leicester ticket office, and employing my complete lack of a Geordie accent to great effect secured four seats in the home end. Anticipating a similarly dowdy atmosphere to the Coventry game, off we headed to the game.

Suffice to say that the Leicester atmosphere was slightly more partisan than their west midlands counterparts, and for the good of our health the four of us followed the example set by my cousin and became vocal Leicester fans, although typically for Newcastle we were forced to celebrate a Leicester goal before hiding our relief as Newcastle equalised, before making our way back to the car avoiding the punch up which occurred outside the ground illustrating the fate which might have befallen us had we not been sufficiently adept at suppressing our allegiance.

I is for...Intelligence (El Tel)

Ok, just run with me for a little while here. my point is to suggest that football - at many levels - is regularly a platform for the kind of sublime, artful and socially outrageous intelligence that one tends to associate with the work of Nobel prize-winning scientists. Indeed, my aim is to draw a
parallel between, say, Stephen Hawking and Wayne Rooney.

In recent times, one textbook theory of intelligence - that of 'Multiple Intelligences' (Gardner, 1983) - has come to be associated with a whole mish-mash of skills and abilities that in years gone by would not have registered as evidence of 'intelligence'. In particular, there is 'bodily-kinaesthetic intelligence' - associated with learning and understanding through physical activity. Often, dance will be held up as a good example of this - after all, dance is not of such a low cultural order as something like football - much easier and more desirable to hold up a
Darcy Bussell than a Wayne Rooney. Also, we might refer to 'visuo-spatial intelligence' - associated with understanding the relationships between objects. In this case, a common example is the individual who can speedily complete a very large jigsaw puzzle - a much more accessible image than the manager who can render impotent an opposition's attacking formation that features dangerous flare players on each wing. All of which is well and good, but still, a bit dry.

Now, imagine - as I experienced as a youngster - being captivated by Peter Beardsley seeing shooting opportunities and unlikely dribbles that no-one else could see, or as a youngish adult, marvelling at defence-splitting passes from the twilight career of Nigel Clough. All of which is still a bit high profile. However, the same shots, passes and defensive equivalents, I recall as clearly from street football, schools football and informal 5-a-side knockabouts. Whilst oafish lumps would lazily interpret many of these abilities and moments as being down to 'ball-skills', there is
rarely the acknowledgement that some of these abilities say not so much of the feet, but about the eyes and the mind - seeing, suggesting and processing possibilities and impossibilities with lightning dexterity - and often not recognising this of themselves.

The stereotype of the thick footballer has rarely made sense to me, and why - because it is when the footballer is being a footballer that he is at his least thick. It's when the player leaves the pitch that it all goes pear-shaped, tits-up or Craig Bellamy. No, as culturally distasteful as it
might seem, in the language of football. I is for Intelligence.

I is for....Injury time - (Skif)

You might think the phrase “what’s that for,” used repeatedly, is confined to childhood, when you would both provoke adoration and irritation in your parents by pointing at buttons, buses, sheep and feathers, then rolling out your well-practiced method of interrogation.

In adulthood, no one really likes to use the phrase as it suggests a lack of understanding, a slowness to grasp facts or even as far as rank, Goody-esque, stupidity. Except in one kind of place. At one particular time. Football ground. 90th minute. Throughout the land - “what’s that for?” though not said now with innocence, but incredulity.

All it takes is some mush on a touchline to hold up a big number ‘4’ to create howls of derision. Usually though from one end only, it’s quite the Dada-ist supporter that whistles intensely when his team are chasing a 2-1 deficit in the 92nd minute. However, on the other side of it, whether you’re holding on or seemingly cruising, anything over 2 will always cause the ol’ sphincter (where every supporter packs their inherent pessimism) to jiggle. Perhaps supporters would be less annoyed with the display if they took the Las Vegas boxing approach to number display. “6 minutes?!?! For fu… oh…well…heeeelllllo my pretty. No, I think that’s just about right.” For as we know all British football supporters have the mating instinct of a rakish toff.

Maybe not, but I’m sure most of that constituency wouldn’t exactly balk at the idea of bringing in intellectually unambitious girlies to wield the boards. Either that or force Tony Bloggs of, oh I don’t know, Deal, to pack a blonde wig in with the spare flags and his pencil sharpener. Over distance we’d never know. Mmm, think there might be some balking at that.

Of course, this is only the case in the games where a fourth official has been appointed. Tends to be down amongst us non-leaguers that we only get to see them in the FA competitions, although sometimes we might get a groundsman to raise up a token ‘1’ painted onto the side of a bin. Actually that’s not true (and shame on you if you considered it a possibility) but I have seen club manager’s hold up the appropriate number sub board on instruction from the ref, although this in itself is clear tokenism. We can manage most of the season, and even the big leagues never used to bother.

Isn’t there something to be said for the guessing game, when you have no idea how long the man in black will let your agony last? Yes, it hurts, but pain has to be intense, for pleasure to follow suit. If you know it’s three minutes, you will gradually dissolve towards calmness. However, with no idea, you relief will erupt in one pure, if soggy, ejaculation (soggy thanks to the involuntary grolly that flies out of your face with your “YEEEAAAAAHHHHHHHH”, of course). So, let this be my call, to bring back the days of injury time that is the refs to know and ours not-to-find-out-until-it’s-finished. Ignorance, as you’ll remember, is bliss. Well, eventually, after 2/3/4 minutes of ignorance being a bit more like a cheese grater against your weather-beaten nips.

Some people, fearing entrenchment in the car park probably, bypass all this by leaving after 85 minutes. I remember once, in my days of watching Southampton, I was at a game at the Dell (1st April 1989, I fool you not) and Saints hadn’t won in 20 games and were dicing with relegation. At home to a similarly troubled Newcastle, it was 0-0 until the dying moments when Saints were awarded a penalty. For reasons lost in the mists of time, and the demolition of that beautiful little ground, Mr Reliability (from the spot, anyway) Matthew Le Tissier was not on the field, and Neil Ruddock stepped up. He was fairly lithe in them days, but still, his placing of the ball on the spot didn’t exactly calm the nerves. Just as Razor started his run up, some arse started edging his way down our row to leave. He just cleared me in the last seat prior to the gangway as Razor welted it past the keeper, in doing so setting in motion Southampton’ pull to safety, and Newcastle’s drop into the second tier. It was the season that ended with Michael Thomas almost charged into the Anfield Road end after scoring a last minute second goal for Arsenal.

It was also almost a season when some guy committed only to the cause of being home in time for Little & Large, and not a 1,800 minute wait for 3 points, went barrelling down some steps in the West Stand at the Dingly. At my hands. He didn’t, despite the fact that I was only 11, and thus wasn’t totally sure of right or wrong then.

Now an adult, I realise it would certainly have been the responsible thing to do.

I is for…..Italy 1990 (Lord Bargain)

As we galloped towards the letter “I”, in my brain, and as a Manchester United fan I was (of course) inextricably drawn to writing about “injury time”. Has there been a more longstanding joke during the course of the Premiership than the notion that referees add enough time for United to score? Or how, of course, our most famous triumph occurred after the ninetieth minute…

But, as a result of being tardy with my piece I was beaten to that topic by the mighty Skif. A fair cop, guv’nor.

I remember running into the street at the outcome of a football match twice in my life. The first was into a quiet Portishead close after Norman Whiteside’s curling effort had won the 1985 FA Cup. The second was on a balmy July night in the summer of 1990.

Although I vaguely remember some of the 1986 tournament in Mexico (Gary Lineker’s bandaged wrist being raised after his hat-trick against Poland), the first World Cup that I remember with any conviction is the 1990 tournament in Italy. From the opening day as Francois Omam Biyick’s header squirmed under the body of Andres Pumpido in the Argentinian goal, the tournament is the one I have the best recollection of.

England’s preparation for the tournament was mixed. After a considerable unbeaten run, an Enzo Francescoli inspired Uruguay side beat Bobby Robson’s England 2-1 at Wembley in May. Then, the last pre-tournament warm-up game was an unmitigated catastrophe as a Steve Bull goal scraped a 1-1 draw against Tunisia.

By the time England lined up against the Republic of Ireland in Cagliari in June 11th, there had already been some great moments. We’d seen the emergence of Salvatore Schillachi and Tomas Skuhravy. We’d seen two great Lothar Matthaus goals against Yugoslavia. Earlier that day we’d seen the upset of the tournament so far as the minnows of Costa Rica beat Scotland 1-0.

England’s game, by contrast, was a pretty tepid affair. An early Gary Lineker goal failed to ignite England and Kevin Sheedy fired Ireland level half way through the second half. In the other group game a late Egypt equaliser denied the Dutch an opening day win.

A goalless draw with Holland failed to inspire the England faithful and Bobby Robson’s team went into the last game with Egypt needing something from the game. An inspired/lucky change of formation (fielding Mark Wright in a sweeper role) galvanised England and Wright’s goal was the deciding moment in a 1-0 win over Egypt. England were through.

In the round of 16, England were to face Belgium who had finished second in their group ahead of South Korea and precious winners Uruguay. The game itself was tight and Enzo Scifo came nearest to a winner in normal time with a fierce 30 yard drive that came back off Peter Shilton’s right hand post. The match was trickling towards the dreaded penalty shootout when England won a free kick forty yards from goal. Paul Gascoigne walked over to the ball and, bereft of other ideas shaped to shoot. John Barnes urged otherwise and told Gazza to loft the ball into the danger area. As the ball looped into the penalty area, substitute David Platt let the ball drop over his right shoulder and hooked the ball past the despairing dive of Michael Preud’homme for a 119th minute winner and resulted in Bobby Robson’s memorable touchline dance.

The last 16 round produced some other memorable moments, including Roger Milla’s brace for Cameroon against Columbia, the notorious Frank Rijkaard/Rudi Voller spitting incident and Ireland’s great penalty shootout victory against the Romanians.

So then to Naples for a World Cup quarter final for the rights to meet West Germany who had defeated Czechoslovakia 1-0 earlier in the day. England controlled the first half and deservedly went in 1-0 up at half time courtesy of a David Platt header. Then, a four minute Cameroon double turned the game on its head as firstly an Emmanuel Kunde penalty and a Eugene Ekeke strike put the Africans into a 2-1 lead.

With time running out, England were awarded an 83rd minute penalty which Gary Lineker coolly converted. As the first half of extra time was drawing to a close, Lineker was played through and fouled by a combination of defender and goalkeeper. The number 10 got up and dispatched the penalty and England held on for a 3-2 victory.

I ran into the street. Well. We were in the semi-finals of the World Cup….

Of course the semi-final is best left alone, I guess. England play well, Paul Parker’s deflection loops over an ageing Peter Shilton, Chris Waddle hits the inside of a post, Psycho’s penalty hits Bodo Illgner’s legs and Waddle’s spot-kick can still be seen heading out of our solar system.

And as for the final… Well.

So, great tournament it was not, but it’s the nearest we have come (and may I suggest will come) to winning that little gold trophy in my lifetime and the goals and personalities of that tournament remain the most iconic. And the USA were rubbish....

I is for…. International Management (Swiss Toni)

International management? Hardest game in the world.

Now, clearly I’m not talking about your Sven Goran Erikssons, your Graham Taylors or your Steve McClarens. They have a pretty difficult job, I agree, but it is one of the highest profile and prestigious jobs in the world, they do all seem to have a liking for the spotlight and were all pretty reasonably recompensed for their troubles, so I’m sure not sure that anyone should feel all that sorry for them.

No, I’m talking about real international football management. The kind where you slave away for hours and hours for no tangible reward. The kind where you spend all hours fretting over lists of players and staying up late into the night poring over tactics and permutations of different formations. The kind where even if you win everything that there is to win, there is precious little reward and absolutely no recognition.

Well, when I say “real international football management”, I actually mean nothing of the sort; I mean virtual international football management, the kind that you play on a computer.

I’ve been playing “Championship Manager” and “Football Manager” in their various incarnations for more than a decade now, and although I have been phenomenally successful (except when managing Wolves), becoming an international manager is still the holy of holies.

In all those years, I have only really ever tasted real success at international level once. Under their inspirational young manager, Swiss Antonio, Roma had won everything European football could offer over and over again. When the Italian FA came calling, who was I to refuse? The national team was in a parlous state and qualification for the next European Championships was looking doubtful. Enter the new manager, and enter too a new crop of players… joining established but underachieving internationals like Francesco Totti, Antonio Cassano and Fabio Cannavaro were Italian-Brazilian Robson Ponte and Italian-Argentinian Julio Arca. The team were encouraged to play a more attacking game with quicker, slicker short passing… and the results soon followed. Qualification for the finals of the European Championships was achieved, and the tournament was then thrillingly won, in spite of a long-term injury to Totti. The world cup campaign that followed saw more of the same, and the Antonio’s team marched on to the final, where they took on the might of Brazil and were only narrowly beaten (which frankly was my best result after several reboots… damn but they were a good team. I don’t like to cheat, but this was ridiculous). This disappointment was soon worked off when the team came back to Europe, where they extended their tenure as European Champions for another 4 years (without cheating), during the course of which Ponte overhauled Christian Vieri as his country’s top scorer, all the while playing in an attacking-midfield role.

Happy days.

The Italian FA were naturally delighted, and Swiss Antonio was something of a legend throughout Italy… but the game had begun to pall for the young manager and he disappeared (well, he upgraded his computer and had to start all over again). But damn, in those few short years, Swiss Antonio had achieved a whole lot more than Steve McClaren ever will, and for a whole lot less money too.

Actually, my favourite ever Championship Manager moment came when I was the manager of Barnet and had, over the course of a number of years, taken them all the way up to the top division. Spearheading this advance had been a striker I had signed when the team had been playing in the old Fourth Division called Paul Brazier. He cost me buttons, but scored at least 20 goals every season through all of those promotions, and finally, at the age of 33 received his first England call-up. I was properly choked up and as proud as proud could be. A computer manager had just called up one of my virtual players to a simulated international team, and I was dancing around the room. Wolves hardly ever have that effect on me in the real world.

Have you read the papers recently? Sheffield Utd are taking the Premier League to the High Court to try and reverse their relegation; West Ham have been splashing the cash and having already signed Craig Bellamy, are apparently keen to sign Kieron Dyer; Manchester Utd have been trying (and trying) to sign Carlos Tevez, only to find out that there is a lot of dispute over who really owns his registration; the new owner of Manchester City is a former Thai prime minister being investigated for human rights abuses and whose first move is to appoint Sven Goran Eriksson as manager. You couldn’t make some of this stuff up.

Computer football is just so much more realistic.

I is for....intelligence (Ben)

Last time out, my subject was Alan Hansen, whom I lauded as a giant of punditry largely (it has to be said) by virtue of the diminutive stature of his competition. If you had to put your finger on what it is that makes so many of Hansen’s fellow pundits so excruciating to listen to, you’d ultimately have to say it’s because footballers are by their very nature, well, a bit thick.

Ex-pros – so the thinking goes – make for good pundits because they know football from the inside, and thereby complement commentators and presenters whose experience of the beautiful game comes only from looking on from the sidelines. Pundits can help you understand the tactics, the mind games, the physical exertion, the levels of skill, what it means to win or lose.

The problem is, of course, that most footballers lack the ability to string a simple sentence together, which negates the value and usefulness of any insight they might be able to contribute. How expressive you can be with your feet bears absolutely no relation to how expressive you can be with your tongue.

It would be wrong, admittedly, to tar all footballers with the same brush. After all, Barry Horne and David Weatherall both have Chemistry degrees; former Watford defender Steve Palmer has an MSc in Computing; Arjan de Zeeuw, who has a degree in Medical Science, was recently signed up by a fellow graduate, Coventry manager Iain Dowie. Our very own Steve Harper has a degree from the Open University; with Shay Given blocking his path to the first team, he at least found something constructive to do with his time. And Eric Cantona is a lover of the arts, and a philosopher well-respected enough for his views on good and evil to be considered alongside those of Thomas Aquinas.

However, these are pretty much the exceptions who prove the rule. Cantona’s intelligence was one of the things that marked him out as different, special. And for every football-playing graduate comfortable with polysyllabic words, there are twenty slackjawed Wayne Rooneys erming their way through interviews, their brows furrowing as they dribble their way through sentences like they’re dribbling through a tightly-packed defence.

But, lest we forget, footballers are paid exorbitant amounts not to be articulate but to play football and win matches, hopefully entertaining the paying spectators in the process. To paraphrase that reliable voice of reason Paul Calf, why does everyone say David Beckham’s a brilliant footballer but a bit stupid? After all, no-one says, “That Stephen Hawking – he’s a bit shit at football. Stuck him on the wing and he did nowt for 90 minutes.”

So it’s unfair to mock players for not being the brightest stars in God’s sky. Generally, they don’t choose to inflict their thoughts on us; rather, they are pursued, pressured and prompted into speech, expected to perform with microphones constantly thrust under their noses. Even those hopelessly inarticulate players who go on to a career in punditry only do so because the opportunity is there, offered to them on a plate by a media hungry to get closer to the action and desperate to fill up allotted time slots and sports pages with supposedly authoritative voices. Yes, BBC and ITV, you read that right – I’m blaming YOU for Ian Wright, Andy Townsend, Robbie Earle and Garth Crooks…

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

I would mention that I have won the World Cup twice on Championship Manager, once as France and once as England (I know!)

I'm just sayin'.

Coming soon: The return of the Predictions League....

David Unsworth for Wigan (vs Sheffield Utd), 13 May 2007

Ryan Giggs for Manchester Utd (vs Chelsea), 5th August 2007

Given that we've just sat through the Community Shield and a new season is already upon us, I thought it was probably about time that we picked over the bones of my predictions for last season.

1. Chelsea [actual position: 2nd]

I said: "Boring boring boring. I’d love them to be astonishingly shit, but I can’t see them finishing anywhere but first. They’ve just gone and bought bloody Michael Ballack and Andriy Shevchenko."

Hmm. Actually they had a really difficult season (by their standards) and still nearly one. Ballack and Shevchenko possibly overrated..... by me and by Jose Mourinho anyway.

2. Liverpool [actual position: 3rd]

I said: "Getting better year on year under Benitez and looks to have added sensibly this time."

True enough, but another good run in the Champions League and slow progress in the league. was right about Craig Bellamy getting into trouble too! FORE!

3. Man Utd [actual position: 1st]

I said: "I thought they were rubbish last year, and yet they still somehow managed to finish strongly in second place. They look a striker short, but they’ll have Heinze, Solskjaer and Scholes back this season and Michael Carrick and (possibly) Owen Hargreaves are surely a much better bet than the Djemba-Djembas, Klebersons and Darren Fletchers of this world, aren’t they?"

... and I picked them to finish 3rd?

I'll get my coat.

4. Arsenal [actual position: 4th]

I said: "Ooooh. Get them in their posh new stadium. Twice the capacity of Highbury, but at what cost? £260m of debt and only one signing thus far (albeit a good one). They’ve still got Thierry Henry, mind you, and he’ll be enough to see them land a top 4 place."

Well, right about 4th... but they did it mostly without Henry.

5. Tottenham [actual position: 5th]

I said: "Martin Jol has done a great job here, hasn’t he? Unlucky to be beaten to that last European Cup slot last season and with a side packed with decent players".

obvious, but true. I was right about Defoe stewing on the bench too. With the signing of Darren Bent, why exactly is he still there?

6. Blackburn [actual position: 10th]

I said: "Ok. So now I’m going to start guessing. If the top 5 pick themselves, then I think it’s fair to say that the next 15 places are more or less entirely up for grabs."

So true.

I also said: "No Bellamy, but with players like McCarthy, Reid, Bentley, Pedersen and Roberts, should give most sides a good game. Solid defence too."

Perhaps I was a bit optimistic, but they did okay and I expect the same this year too.

7. Bolton [actual position: 7th]

I said: "If Big Sam can stop crying about the England job and the loss of Dietmar Hamann, then they’ll probably be alright in that not-very-pretty-but-undeniably-effective way."

Ha. Just ignore what I said about Nolan and Stelios being their main goalscorers, and I look like a genius with this one. Newcastle would be happy if Sam delivers this for them in 2007/8 won't they?

8. Everton [actual position: 6th]

I said: "Will no doubt be intensely dull to watch"

Yup.

9. West Ham [actual position: 15th]

I said: "Just how much will Alan Pardew rue England’s friendly with Greece? Thanks to his collison with the colossal bulk of Shaun Wright-Phillips, Dean Ashton will be out of action until November, and with him surely goes West Ham’s Plan ‘A’. Can ‘Marvellous’ Marlon Harewood cover for Ashton’s absence by continuing his barely believable Premiership goalscoring record? Surely not?"

I was right, but I certainly never saw their season coming.

10. Aston Villa [actual position: 11th]

I said: "Two words: Martin O’Neill. Post match interviews should get a whole lot more interesting, anyway. Surely not hard to improve on last year’s flirtation with relegation."

Well, we're still waiting. They were dull last year, albeit much improved. It should be interesting to see if O'Neill has moved them forwards much this year.

I also said: "Watch out for: The signing of a big lump to play up front for a more direct style of play."

John Carew anyone?

11. Newcastle [actual position: 13th]

I said: "Watch out for: Glenn Roeder to be under early pressure from idiot chairman Fat Freddie Shepherd."

Roeder went eventually, and finally fat Freddie has followed him out the door. Surely better things ahead?

12. Portsmouth [actual position: 9th]

I said: "I’m not sure that Harry Redknapp knows what to do with all that money. It shouldn’t be hard to improve on last year’s near relegation, but any defence containing David James, Sol Campbell and Glenn Johnson is going to have its comedy moments, isn’t it?"

Well, wrong on almost every count. They had a great season and their defence was magnificent.

13. Charlton [actual position: 19th]

I said: "On the face of it, Ian Dowie has an impossible job: how can he ever match up to Curbs?"

Yes.

14. Wigan [actual position: 17th]

I said: "A great first season in the Premiership, but they surely can’t do that again"

No, they couldn't.

15. Man City [actual position: 14th]

I said: "I’m bored now. Dull side. Won’t do much."

Yup.

16. Middlesborough [actual position: 12th]

I said: ....nothing of interest at all. But look at them. Can you blame me?

17. Sheffield Utd [actual position: 18th]

I said: "I have a confession: I quite like Neil Warnock and I look forward to seeing what kind of a swathe he can cut in the Premiership. The Blades have been one of the best sides in the Championship for the last five years, and it will be interesting to see how players like Michael Tonge and Phil Jagielka cut the mustard. I’d like them to stay up. I’m not sure they will, but I’d like them too."

So nearly right.....

18. Fulham [actual position: 16th]

I said: "Struggle – especially if they don’t persuade Steed Malbranque that he’d really like to stay another season."

Well, Malbranque left and they're still hanging on in there.

19. Reading [actual position: 8th]

I said: "Another side who have been good in the Championship for a number of years and who I would be delighted to see make a decent fist of the Premiership. As a Wolves fan, I’ll be very interested to see how Seol does, but if he’s their biggest signing, then I think they’ll struggle."

Wrong. They were brilliant and Coppell was justifiably manager of the season too. Seol did a job for them too...

20. Watford [actual position: 20th]

I said: "Whipping boys, surely?"

All too predictable.

---

If I get half an hour at work in the next week, I'll try and whip up my totally unscientific thoughts on this year's league too.

---

The actual premiership table:

1 Man Utd
2 Chelsea
3 Liverpool
4 Arsenal
5 Tottenham
6 Everton
7 Bolton
8 Reading
9 Portsmouth
10 Blackburn
11 Aston Villa
12 Middlesbro'
13 Newcastle
14 Man City
15 West Ham
16 Fulham
17 Wigan
18 Sheff Utd
19 Charlton
20 Watford

Jon Stead for Sheffield United (v Wigan Athletic), 13 May 2007

I know you shouldn't laugh, but this is the funniest football story I've read for a while.

Ex-Sheffield United manager Colin Wanker has claimed in his new book that Hollywood legend Sean Bean made his family cry with a swear-filled rant.

Apparently, after the Blades were relegated last season, Alec Trevelyan off of Goldeneye made his way to Warnock's office and confronted Mrs Wanker and their five year old son. "It's your f*cking husband that got us relegated. He's a f*cking w*nker" yelled the eldest son of Denethor II, Steward of Gondor and Minas Tirith.

Warnock claimed he "never really rated his opinion on football". Takes one to know one, I suppose.

Landon Donovan for LA Galaxy (v Chivas de Guadalajara), 29 July 2007

On the basis that I saw three Beckham LA Galaxy shirts at the second test today, do you think their marketing and merchandising policy might already be in full effect....?

Patrice Evra (for Manchester United) v FC Seoul, 20 July 2007

Taking up the excellent point made by United 113 in the last comments, I have today received an update from the Manchester United Supporters Trust (MUST) about the ongoing fight with the club over their controversial "Automatic Cup Ticket Scheme" (ACS).

United are clearly having difficulties because of the number of Season Ticket (ST) holders who have not renewed or who refuse to join the ACS. Numbers are hard to confirm, but we have it on good authority that over 6,000 ST holders have not renewed (and that more will give up their ST by refusing to join the ACS before the deadline imposed by the club). We don't doubt that there will shortly be an announcement of record sales and that all STs have sold out but the fact is that anyone can ring up the ticket office today (we've checked) and buy a Season Ticket while United have been claiming they have a huge waiting list.

Having claimed to have a waiting list of around 13-14,000 - in itself a 'stick' with which to threaten ST holders that if they didn't renew, others would be clambering over them to take up their ticket – we are now seeing the reality. The fabled waiting list a phantom one. United has already resorted to offering ST to all-comers on its website and even giving away free tickets in draws. As soon as supporters realise that there is not a huge excess demand for STs, and that it becomes easier to obtain matchday tickets, the whole carefully-nurtured edifice of exclusivity and unattainability comes crashing down. If that happens it should be welcomed by all supporters as it will bring some balance back to the currently exploitative power relationship between the owners of the club and its supporters."

United have now set a deadline of 27th July for ST holders to join the scheme otherwise their ST will be invalidated/cancelled. Interestingly, this is before the date of 2nd August when the club have to respond to the court claim made against them by disillusioned ST holder John Mayall.

What to do? Under the terms and conditions, the club reserve the right to charge for my season ticket, cancel it and refuse to refund me my £722 if I fail to join the ACS before the deadline. The more likely route is for them to cancel it on 28th July and refund me my money. Clearly I'd rather not do that, and so my remaining option is to sign up for this ridiculous scheme and continue to lobby with the thousands of other fans to get this decision overturned.

Darren Fletcher for Manchester United (v Urawa Red Diamonds), 17 July 2007

So, following my letter to David Gill about this greedy nonsense I have had two responses. Both have succeeded in making me more angry than before.

Karl Evans is Director of Venue (what that means, Jesus only knows). He assures me that "...we do take a great deal of time and put a great deal of thought into our pricing policies". That made me feel much better, knowing that a double figure hike in ticket prices had at least been carefully considered. He then claims that "the club still offers a cheaper priced ticket than most in the league". I've been keeping an eye on this claim for a while, and it is nothing more than a clever bit of spin by United. A few years back, the general ticket prices were cheap in relation to other top flight clubs. Today, as Karl says, "...admittedly [the club] is in the upper section on higher price tickets". What this means is that the general cost of admission is significantly higher in relation to other clubs that it has been in recent seasons, but United maintain a small amount of low priced tickets (you ought to see how far back/high up you'd be in these seats, incidentally) in order that they can claim the nice PR of having low priced tickets.

Clever.

"With regard to the automatic cup ticket scheme, the club decided to make this compulsory to increase operational efficiency."

What a load of old cobblers. Not only is this a *completely* different answer to the one provided by David Gill in the other letter I received (see later) but it's also some absolutely groundless management speak. "Operational efficiency" = United make more money.

"In the case where tickets are not required there is always the possibility of utilising the Viagogo ticket exchange system..." I like the use of the word "possibility", there. He also ignores the fact that the Viagogo exchange system adds 20-25% to the face value of the ticket (with the charges involved).

And then we come to the letter from David Gill's office which is as rude as it is abrupt.

"Making the cup scheme compulsory affects around a quarter of the 57,000 Season Ticket holders." (a good argument to start with. The Government should try passing laws that make 25% of the populations life worse under that rationale). "By not including the Cup games in a higher priced season ticket..." (is making cup tickets compulsory not exactly the same thing?) "...the Club has rejected the policy of many other clubs who insist on payment at the start of the season for cup matches that may not happen."

Anyone else know of a club that includes cup matches in a higher priced season ticket that they buy up-front? Please tell me, as I'd love to know.

"This was a business decision made by the Board of Directors and unfortunately there can be no exceptions".

Nice.

So, let me recap. It only affects 14,000 people (coincidentally, this is the same number as United have claimed are on their waiting list for season tickets. If we all therefore sent them back they'd exactly replace us with the waiting list.) It is for reasons of "operational efficiency" (the club sell all their seats up front). There is an admittance the tickets are expensive in relative terms.

My favourite part of the responses however is this:

"....admittedly [the club] is in the upper section on higher price tickets but considering the quality of the entertainment I think this is reasonable to expect."

How dangerous is it to link the cost of the tickets to the "quality of the entertainment"? So, does that mean we can claim a refund for a dour 0-0 draw? If we finish 8th in successive seasons the cost of tickets is going to fall? If we lose a game do we get a full refund?

I have seen nothing in either of these replies that softens my stance on this - indeed I am less convinced now than I was before. The fight continues....

Wayne Rooney for Manchester United (v AC MIlan), 24 April 2007

You may have seen snippets of this story over the last few weeks.

Manchester United have implemented a new ticketing policy which makes it compulsory for season ticket holders to join the club's "automatic cup ticket scheme". This means that season tickets for the forthcoming 2007/8 season won't be released by the club to supporters until they agree to sign-up for the scheme. What the scheme does is automatically debit your credit or debit card with the payment and issue any home cup tickets during the season (Carling Cup, FA Cup and the Champions League).

So, despite a 14% hike in season ticket prices (compared with those clubs who under the new TV deal have reduced or frozen prices), United fans are now forced to shell out up to an additional £380 a season. (Interestingly, the news of the season ticket price increase was released the morning after United had beaten AC Milan 3-2 in the Champions League semi-final. Some Blairite tactics if ever I've seen them.)

The clubs defence of this policy is unsurprisingly arrogant. They argue that there is a waiting list of 14,000 for season tickets (which to me reads "take it or leave it".) They also argue that unwanted tickets can be sold on the Manchester United Ticket Exchange (true, but the fees payable for selling through the exchange add 20-25% to the face value of the ticket).

I wrote to David Gill just under a fortnight ago complaining about this ludicrous policy as often, due to work commitments I can't attend midweek fixtures. I also consider that the price of my season ticket rising from £475 in 2005/6 to £722 in 2007/8 is a steep enough increase without the additional cost of cup tickets (knockout stage Champions League tickets for example are more expensive than an equivalent league game). As yet, I have had no response.

Yesterday, I read that with the support of the Manchester United Supporters Trust (MUST) a supporter is taking the club to court over this policy. I am absolutely delighted that this is the case and I immediately emailed Nick Towle, chairman of MUST to offer my support. I understand from his response today that a class action is expensive although he expects further individual court cases to follow. He has added my name to a growing list of over 100 supporters who are prepared to challenge this policy in the courts.

United know full well that they have their loyal support over a barrel. If anyone fails to renew their season ticket in disgust at their increasing greed and arrogance, there are 14,000 waiting to take it off them. If I knew that I could send my season ticket back and tell them to stick it and then at some point in the future decide to renew, I'd do it. But I can't. So I am either be forced to accept whatever daft, unfair policy they introduce at any given moment, or kiss goodbye to watching them again for good.

I'm not surprised that long-time fans across the Premiership are turning their backs on their teams in favour of returning to grass-roots lower league football where you're treated like a supporter and not like a revenue stream. United might generate a stadium full of rich glory hunters now, but when the bubble bursts it's us they'll expect to fall back on...

Ariel Ortega for River Plate (v Quilmes), 18 March 2007

It's the 18th March in the Clausira title race. As the clash between Quilmes and River Plate meanders towards a 0-0 draw, a right wing cross is played into the Quilmes area. Expecting a challenge from the goalkeeper, Ariel Ortega closes his eyes and launches himself towards the ball. He misses the header but the ball deflects off his hand into the back of the Quilmes net.

Referee Daniel Giminez awards a goal and River win the game 1-0. "I saw the hand of Ortega, but a referee must judge intention and in this case, it was clear that he tried to head the ball and then it accidentally bounced off his hand. If it happens somewhere else on the pitch it's not considered handball, so why should it be in the area?"

This has caused some debate, even within FIFA. Michel Vautrot from their Referee Committee argued "A goal can never be scored with the hand. Intention is not relevant in that case." However, Jose Maria Garcia Aranda, director of FIFAs Department of Referees argued "A referee always decides if the hand has been intentional. And if he considers it was not, the goal is valid."

Intuitively, one's initial reaction is that a goal scored with the hand should be chalked off no matter what. However the notion of intent, and the fact that an unintentional handball in the penalty box by a defender should go unpunished does raise some doubt. What's your view?

(credit to June 2007's "Four Four Two" for the piece.)

Jose Antonio Reyes for Real Madrid (v Real Mallorca), 17 June 2007

It's a bit boring this summer with no football on. No World Cup, no European Championships. I've even tried watching some of the under-21 Championship (not that interesting, believe me).

Anyway, believe it or not the new season starts on Saturday as teams from as far and wide as Iceland, Slovenia and Andorra kick off the first-legs of their first round Inter-Toto cup matches.

Any competition containing a team called FC Honka is OK with me.
Here we go again, then....

Peter Crouch for England (v Estonia), 6 June 2007

Fortuitously, some would say, I missed most of the England v Estonia game last Wednesday night as I was flying to Bratislava for the wedding of fellow contributor Swiss Toni.

I arrived in my hotel room and flicked on the TV and after a bit of channel-hopping I happened upon the match on EuroSport (about 75 minutes in).

After a moment I realised that it had the benefit of German commentary and so stuck with it for a few minutes. Just as I was about to turn off and go out for some dinner, the commentator went very silent and the camera panned to a close-up of the English football pin-up and legend above.

Some silence. And then the German commentator broke the silence.

"DIE TOWER."

Glad it's not just us, eh?

Carlos Tevez for West Ham United (v Manchester United), 13 May 2007

The Cheer Up Alan Shearer 2006/7 Predictions League

And so, another long and tiring season draws to a close and whilst the last of the domestic football matters was decided on Monday, there is one large shiny pot left to present before we disappear into a summer bereft of any football whatsoever (apart from the Copa America. And the Inter-Toto will be back before you know it.)

And, despite scoring no points in a nervy last week, the mantle of CUAS Predictions Champion passes to the legend known only as: El Tel.

A majestic victory. Well done indeed.

Congratulations to everyone else also - the new scoring system certainly made things a bit closer than the previous season. Thanks to everyone who took part and, rest assured, it will be back for a brand new season in August...

Andres Vasquez for IFK Gothenburg (v Orebro SK), 7 May 2007

101 Great Goals #81 - Andres Vasquez

The thing with great goals is that sometimes you think you have seen them all. You've seen wonder-strikes, outrageous volleys and mazy dribbles leaving defenders on their arse.

And then you see something like this. This is just something very, very special.

Cristiano Ronaldo for Manchester Utd (v Manchester City), 5 May 2007

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

So, we're into the final week of the predictions league, and it looks very much like El Tel might wrest the Predictions title from, er, me. Barring an awful week, of course (no pressure, or anything....)

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

and as a wildcard, name a country that finishes in the top 3 in the Eurovision Song Contest (for 3 points)

Serbia

Alan Hansen for Liverpool (v Dymano Dresden), 19 October 1977

The A-Z of Football

H is for....Havant-A-Clue Ville - (Skif)

I can handle anything from a chant, largely speaking. I can be sworn at, told that I’m not singing anymore or that my team has an inferior ground, and zero fans with which to fill it. None of it phases me, particularly the latter which taken (mostly) literally, suggests that, as I’ve feared since doing A-level philosophy, I do not really exist at all, but rather am an imaginational figment inside the swede of a drunk Tamworth fan. I’m sure we’ve all been frozen by that particular fear at one time or another.

However, despite my mallard-esque waterproof spine when it comes to opposition choral blather, this doesn’t apply when reading the inane rantings of cads of the most unscrupulous kidney (to borrow C.B. Fry’s phrasing, I’d call ‘em c**** myself) on that there interweb. It’s not even the vitriol spout from behind the cowardly cloak of anonymity that gets me the most, even though it does get me, but actually where a trite, playground insult appears from nowhere, in an otherwise rational missive.

It is perhaps sad that I should get wound up most by those refer to Havant & Waterlooville as ‘Havant-A-Clue Ville’. Taking a step back, it’s not the worst re-appropriation (although it’d surely have worked better had the tally of syllables matched), but like any of these insults that merely twist the name or just change a single letter, it may not hurt, but Christ they’re annoying when they’re used even by people who aren’t embittered by the grievances of local/historic rivalry.

Elementary research into this area this morning has thrown up Lincoln City’s ground as now being the rather benignly perverted sounding Sincil Wank, courtesy a Boston fan; Brighton & Homo Albion, which came, I imagine, from either a Crystal Palace fan (who may well inhabit “Smelhurst Park” of a Saturday), a big plank of a homophobe, or maybe both; and, of course, a Shitty for every City you can name.

Of course, less cerebral Newcastle fans will have gone down the Blunderland route over the years, while ‘Mackems’ is used interchangeably by the Toon and the Black Cats, apparently both positively and negatively. Indeed, fans of Hartlepool and Ipswich appear to have embraced Monkey Hangers and Tractor Boys, while Brighton & Hove have rebuffed nicknames such as those above by apparently being known to sing “1-0 to the shirt-lifters” when the situation permits.

With the really big long-standing hate-filled rivalries, the original team name will disappear from usage amongst the opposition to be replaced forevermore by the new name. Certainly, closest to home for me in that respect is the Portsmouth/Southampton rivalry. That Portsmouth call Southampton ‘scum’ was supposed to be due to its acronym for ‘Southampton City Union Men’ referring to Southampton dockers breaking a Portsmouth picket line in the 30’s. There isn’t much evidence for this and, besides, ‘scum’ appears to be the go-to insult in all derby day relations. Southampton’s rebuttal for ‘scum’ is ‘skate’, referring to Portsmouth’s Royal Naval history. However I’m not entirely clear whether this refers to Portsmouth sailors smelling like fish or due to their having regularly made the beast with two backs, a few gills and a plate of chips on the side with their friends from the sea. Under the law of football insults, I think I should assume the latter.

Me? Of course, I’m above such pettiness. You can ask anyone.

Except, maybe, the supporters of Aldershit.

H is for....Half Time Draw (Lord Bargain)

Being as I have a reasonably strong bladder and no desire for overpriced Bovril, I find myself at my seat during the half time interval at the vast majority of United matches. Despite Old Trafford's huge capacity, the mid-game break at the Theatre of Dreams is, and I am being polite, utterly dreadful.

If we are very lucky, we get a series of fat blokes who have won a competition on the back of Sugar Puffs who lumber on to take penalties against our fourth choice youth team goalie. Not that it's predictable, but if one of them scuffs both of theirs horribly, they get another go. If one sends a pinpoint spot-kick into the top corner, a chorus of "Fergie, Fergie, sign him up" rings around the stadium.

The other way the United staff have come up with to make the half-time break less boring is the Half Time Cashdash Draw. Tickets are on sale on the way into the ground for £1 with the chance of winning cash prizes up to £2,000. As the teams amble off the pitch, two blokes lug on a big red tombola drum in preparation for the draw.

But, and here's the thing, we get a Minor Celeb to draw the raffle. Now, to be fair, they are hardly Hollywood A-list. Mostly, they tend to be Coronation Street stalwarts or C-list "celebrity" United fans. I have lost count of the amount of times Kevin Webster or Russell "bloody" Watson have trotted on to draw the numbers.

The reason I mention this, however, is that the half-time draw on one occasion did provide one of my all time favourite Old Trafford moments.

Some years ago, the half-time whistle went during a Premiership game in which the home side had struggled. It was 1-1 and we weren't playing all that well. Out came the announcer and the red raffle bin and the spiel about today's "special guest" began. The announcer prattled excitedly about how he was one of the UK's leading sportsmen. How he was in the World top 10, the seven times Order of Merit winner etc etc etc. "Ladies and Gentlemen - Colin Montgomerie!..."

Monty, eh? Quite a top sportsperson. And more famous than Martin Platt, clearly. And so, as he made his way onto the pitch, he got some decent applause and a good, friendly reception. He pulled some numbers from the hat, and then the announcer decided to have a word.

"Enjoying the game?" he asked. "Oh yes," Monty replied. And then he did something which, to this day, I don't understand. "But it's not the best result for us right now. I'm actually a Leeds fan."

Why would you? In front of 67,000 people, why, when you are a bit of a sporting legend who has just experienced a pretty warm welcome, would you admit to being a supporter of our most hated rival?

Following the loud chorus of "booos", he left the pitch. To the loudest chant of "you fat bastard" I have ever heard in my decades of attending football.

Pillock.

H is for...Alan Hansen (Ben)

Time was when you knew exactly what professional footballers would do when they retired: either go into coaching and then management, or run a pub.

No longer.

There is now a new profession to which more and more ex-pros are drawn, one which has developed as a result of increasing numbers of games being televised. Yes, I’m talking about punditry.

The allure of a career in punditry is obvious: it enables ex-professionals to stay in the game and in the limelight, and flatters them into thinking that their opinions are inherently valuable and of interest to the viewing fan. To be qualified to be a pundit, it seems all you need is to have played the game, and not necessarily at the highest level possible – no matter whether you struggle to articulate yourself and whether, on those rare occasions when you do succeed in saying something intelligible, you prove to be about as insightful as a myopic mole in a sack.

Let’s examine the evidence.

Robbie Earle: has he ever said anything remotely interesting?

Ian Wright: over-excitable and incoherent, far better suited to being a children’s entertainer.

Andy Townsend: a textbook case of someone’s ego swelling to monstrous proportions through being invited to share his opinions / deliver his verdicts on a regular basis.

Our very own Alan Shearer, I must grudgingly admit, hardly sparkles, his monotone unlikely to illuminate much (even if I don’t think he’s as bad as is often made out).

And then there’s Garth fucking Crooks.

Yes, the pundits actually worth their salt are few and far between. But one man stands out as a shining example to the others: Alan Hansen.

As far as I can tell, Hansen’s been there pretty much from the beginning. He’d be well within his rights to consider himself the Grandfather Of Punditry. I am one of those football fans who, too young to have seen him in his playing pomp for Liverpool, know him far better as the man sat to Gary Lineker’s right, and one of the main reasons for the clear superiority of the BBC’s football coverage over that of ITV and Sky.

Sure, he has an occasional tendency to lapse into self-parody with those quick-fire assessments of players (“Power, pace, precision” etc) and the references to someone’s “left peg”, but he can be excused that for his frequently perceptive analysis of the match at hand. Rather than continually referring back to his own playing days (as others do), he brings his knowledge of the game to bear upon the present proceedings with greater subtlety.

If the objective of his profession is, at root, to explain and inform, then Hansen should be commended as the pundit who makes by far the most astute and enlightening observations on tactics and formations, observations which are always substantiated by clips. Listen to Ian Wright and you’re invariably bombarded with the jibberings of an idiot with ADHD; listen to Hansen and you’re likely to learn something.

There is, I think, a young pretender in town in the form of Gavin Peacock – certainly the best of the new breed – but Hansen should hold onto the throne for a good while yet.

H is for....hatred (Swiss Toni)

Anyone with even the most passing acquaintance with Sky Sports 3 will know that there are many sports in the world. I’m sure that speedway has many virtues and is, in its own right, every bit as good as football… but it doesn’t quite get the same crowds, does it? You might be able to cram 100,000 people into the MCG for the Boxing Day Test or for the AFL finals, but surely it is only football that can pack in the crowds in their thousands week in, week out. Relegation threatened West Ham are regularly watched by crowds approaching 35,000. Hell, even 6,000 people turned up to watch the dogfight between Wrexham and Torquay at the bottom of League Two. Whatever else it might be, football is certainly box office.

For all those people pushing through the turnstiles though, there’s one thing about football crowds that really disturbs me: the hatred. Take a snapshot of almost any football crowd at any game and tell me what you see. I’ll tell you what I see: I see faces contorted with anger and hatred, many frozen in a grotesque rictus, midway through hurling abuse at any or all of the referee, the opposition, or their own players. Think of the chants: many are undeniably entertaining, but how many of them are not at the expense of someone else? How many celebrate achievement without denigrating someone else’s failure? I realise that this is true of all sports crowds to some extent, but I cannot say that I have seen it to anything like the same extent when watching rugby or cricket as I have when watching football.

Perhaps the fans take their cue from the players. I know that the stakes are high, but how many decisions are accepted without a barrage of abuse at the officials? How often do you see the referee surrounded by screaming players all seeking retribution or to have a decision reversed that will never be reversed? Where does all this hatred and anger come from? Can it possibly be justified? Should we just shrug and accept it?

Of course I’m generalising. I know I’m generalising. After all, football is family entertainment now, isn’t it?

No?

H is for....haircut (Paul)

No sport in the world can boast a greater impact on the hairstyles of a nation more than football. In recent times, this has best been embodied by David Beckham - whose changing haircuts during his tenure as England Captain saw thousands of kids heading to school with a range of haircuts, some of which were downright ridiculous (Becks mohican instantly springs to mind).

However, whilst Beckham may be rightly regarded as a football hairstyle criminal, guilty of repeated crimes against sound barbering practice, he is by no means the only guilty party.

Who could forget the nasty perms which adorned Liverpool legends Souness and McDermott, the mullets of Hoddle and Waddle, the massive barnet of Columbian legends Higuita and Valderrama, and don't even get me started on the divine ponytail Roberto Baggio, or that stupid wedge that Ronaldo sported at the World Cup in Japan.

It may be a cheap shot, but mocking footballers for crap haircuts is something which is clearly part and parcel of the game. From Charlton's comb over to Rio's dreads it's clear that an ability to kick a piece of leather doesn't imbue you with an innate understanding of what makes a good haircut, and the fortunes that players are now paid only seeks to detach them from reality to the point where crap haircuts seem like a good idea.

That's all well and good - if players want to look like idiots, let them. But please, if you or anyone you know thinks that copying a footballer's haircut is acceptable in everyday society, stop, go and find someone whose opinion you trust, and ask them to slap you until you see sense. Just think of the money you'll save.

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

More excellent pieces, there. And more swearing than we have previously encountered. Never a bad thing....

Clarence Seedorf for AC Milan (v Manchester Utd), 2 May 2007

So, sometimes you just have to semi-grudgingly admit that you came up against a side that were Miles Better than you and get on with it. So, on that note, back to domestic business for the Premiership's top 2....

(is it me, or can you only really win the Premiership or the Champions League? If so, are Liverpool absolute bleeding genius for simply ensuring qualification by being marginally better domestically than Bolton and just playing 12 or so important games a season?)

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

and seeing it's happening this week, why not lets have wildcards for (3 points each):

Chelsea 1-0 Man Utd
First goalscorer: Lampard
First booking: Scholes

Wayne Rooney for Sozzchester Academicals (vs Deleriously Dillusional), 28 April 2007

As the defending champion in my office fantasy league, this has been a difficult season for me. A succession of 50:50 decisions on team selection at the start of the season all landed the wrong way, and I have spent much of the year propping up the table. There has been a bit of a minor turnaround in my fortunes over the last couple of months and my team has made a concerted effort to reach mid-table respectability -- a turnaround, it has to be said, that was largely triggered when Lord Bargain took over as caretaker manager whilst I was away on holiday for 3 weeks in March.

Still. I never saw this coming. I finished 7th in the entire Fantasy League in the April Manager of the Month competition. I don't know how many players there are in the League in total, but given that I finished 22,527th in the November competition, I reckon that's pretty good going. It doesn't do very much for my overall league position, where I remain 8,739th in the big league and a very disappointing 5th out of 8 in the office league (where the leader is more than 100 points clear and pushing for a place in the overall top 50).

It's a funny old game.

And they say that the Premiership is the best league in the world....

Philip Cocu for PSV Eindhoven (v Vitesse Arnhem), 29 April 2007

After all that, an amazing day on the last day of the Dutch season saw PSV retain the Eredivisie title after all.

Leaders AZ, reduced to 10 men after just 19 minutes of their game, went down 3-2 to a last minute goal at Excelsior. Even a draw wouldn't have been enough, as second place Ajax won 2-0 at Willem II.

However, third place PSV not only overhauled the points total of Ajax and AZ but also the goal difference as they smashed Vitesse 5-1 at the Philips Stadion to win the title on goal difference by one goal. Their captain and inspiration Philip Cocu scored the vital and decisive goal in the 77th minute.

It's cruel on AZ as only the top two in the league qualify for the Champions League and so they will end up in the UEFA Cup again next season. Harsh too on Ajax who, with fifteen minutes of their game to go were all set to be Champions based on "goals scored".

(and it means we have Ronald Koeman's coma-inducing brand of "no strikers" football in the Champions League again next season...)

Wayne Rooney for Manchester Utd (v AC Milan), 24 April 2007

Predictions time again. I should (fingers crossed) have the table updated by the end of today....

*blames workload*

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

and from the closer than close last week of the Dutch season:

Excelsior 1-2 AZ
PSV 2-0 Vitesse
Willem II 1-3 Ajax

*update*

Predictions tables updated, and it looks like a three horse race going into the last couple of weeks of the season (mainly due to an astonishing points scoring run by Adem over recent weeks). Also mention to Jonny who scored the highest ever weekly total last week (26 points) - bear in mind its 3 for a correct score and 1 for a correct result. Thats good going (although the 5 bonus points for getting Kevin Pietersen clearly helped....)

Didier Drogba for Chelsea (v Valencia), 4 April 2007

Proof if it were needed that where we lead, the others follow....

So I wrote about the Gary's and Terry's of the football world back here in March. Frank Keating in the Guardian writes almost the same piece today (notwithstanding Didier Drogba's hair).

You don't think they might be using our ideas, do you?

*gasps*