I still kind of want a Russian billionaire for Spurs

Or do I? Abramovich may be football’s version of a fairy godmother, but how would you feel if your team was cast as the bad guy against Barcelona – a team that plays outstanding attacking football? I’d almost support Barca over my own team. Chelsea will win the league, but they’re doing it in such a joyless, dull manner, broken up only by whinging and diving that everyone enjoyed watching Barca beat them with a side dish of schadenfreude.

At least when Man Utd (the last team it was fun to hate) were winning everything you could appreciate their football. Mourinho had the chance to build one of the great entertaining sides with all that cash (kind of like Barca, in fact), but he went with the one-nils instead. I hope him and all these fans who’ve come from nowhere are really enjoying it.
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Photoshop Phriday


Here’s my entry in next week’s Guardian Gallery photoshop competition – they want you to show where it all went wrong in building the new Wembly.

Update: THIRD!!!! A copy of Barney Ronay’s Any Chance of a Game, goes to Me, me, me!

I used to love Newcastle and Wor Kev, but seeing him go troppo ‘cos Fergie was stopping him sleep at night was the best ‘I’m losing it’ moment I’ve seen in a post match interview, ever.

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Keith Quinn in stupid comment shocker!

I’ve often been tempted to keep notes on stupid things commentators say, but I always thought shooting fish in barrels was kind of sadistic.

Mark Nichols, the plummy English guy that’s somehow got onto on the Channel 9 team is pretty up there at the moment (“Out! Out! Out!”), as well as any English football commentator whose name isn’t Martin Tyler.

This is typical: “Well, Southampton v Everton here on this freezing Tuesday night in December is proving to be a white knuckle ride of a lifetime, proving once again that the Barclays’ English Premier League is undoubtedly the best league in the world, ever. And if you don’t agree you’re obviously a retard”. “Yes, I’ve just pissed myself in the excitement of it all, Brian”.

But NZ’s own Keith Quinn pulled one out of the bag during the Wellington Sevens, during one of those interminable ‘let’s pan around that crowd! Blimey, they’re all dressed up, fancy that!’ moments. The camera lingered on a blonde woman wearing a skimpy ‘Hooters’ singlet (leaving little to the imagination) talking on her mobile phone, and the doyen of NZ rugby commentary chipped in with:

“I wonder who’s on the other end of that call.
Some lucky.
Person.”

Brilliant.

The beautiful game

A good mate of mine is a Liverpool fan, and I was dead jealous of their Champions League win, not just of the trophy and bragging rights, but ‘cos he got to start drinking at 6.30am, be well gone by ten and asleep on the couch at 2. Glorious. But to balance things nicely, he is currently losing wads of cash in a silly bet he made about ‘Pool’s and Spurs’ relative league positions this year (not with me BTW).

Liverpool fully deserved their win, they made their luck and turned the game on its head after an absolute towelling in the first half. Stevie G deserves the lion’s share of credit, but everyone played their part (with the possible exception of H Kewell – who went on to star in the OTHER penalty drama of the year). I’m sure glad I’m not a Liverpool fan – I found the tension pretty goddamn full on as an innocent bystander – if that was my team I don’t think I’d have coped.
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El Beatle

RIP Georgie Best, undoubtedly the best UK footballer ever.
I’m too young (and too living in New Zealand) to have ever seen him play live, but you can’t be a football fan and not be in awe of what he had.

It’s sad his potential was never really fulfilled, he had an OUTRAGEOUS talent, we should be talking about him the same breath as Pele, Maradonna and Cruyft. Considering he was around in the same era as Nobby Stiles, Jack Charlton, and Norman Hunter, all very British players, Best seems almost South American for his love of dribbling and outrageous tricks. Like kicking the ball out of Gordon Banks’ hands to score (boooooo to the ref who disallowed it).

A very intelligent man, who was aware of what he had and was capable of, it’s a tragedy he began drinking to cope with carrying United after their sixties stars began leaving. I’m not interested in the drinking and womanising, and prefer to remember the footballer who was happiest on the pitch. A 16 year old homesick Belfast boy turning up in Manchester, hoping to conquer the world – and who almost did.

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Hello. I love you.

So. The big kick off is only a couple of weeks away, and now Tottenham have:

– Edgar Davids.

– England’s best goalkeeper.

– Englands’ best young centre back.

– FOUR strikers. Count ’em, four.

– Several England and Ireland under 21s, including Wayne Routledge and Tom Huddlestone, who are meant to be a bit special.

– Martin Jol. He’s good. No talk of Arsenal background or faith healers. He seems like he’s been there for years when he talks about the Spurs tradition of attractive football. And he’s building quite a squad. His next challenge is to mould a team.

– Michael Carrick, a very Spurs player in that he can pass, can’t tackle and won’t get picked for England as much as he deserves (Sheringham, Hoddle, Anderton, Barmby, Waddle).

– Average age of first team squad – really young, like 24.

– It seems like we’ve got at least two decent players in every position.

So. Can I get excited yet?

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