Today's links:
I like Bristol City. I like their manager. I've liked many of their players over the last few years, from Leroy Lita and Lee Peacock to Lee Trundle and Adriano Basso. Ex-Villa and Walsall man Darren Byfield has always been a favourite of mine.
But without wishing to crawl up their arses, most of all I like Bristol City fans. My first experience of them was when they visited the Fitness First to play Bournemouth in 2003, where they put on the best display of lower league away support I'd seen in many years of watching the Cherries.
One of them had even recently embarked upon a quest whereby he cycled to every one of City's away games that season. I always did wonder if he managed it.
I'll begin with the current state of play: Bristol City are second in the Championship which, as the sharper readers out there will note, is an automatic promotion spot. I hope they stay there, and here's why:
The Alternatives
Ah, the alternatives. For the most part, they don't bear thinking about. The idea of Stoke City, currently topping the division, being promoted to a league in which they will twice face Manchester United, Chelsea and West Ham - to name but three - is a terrifying thought. I think you know what I'm getting at.
One place below Bristol City are Hull City and, while I have no particular gripe with them as a club, I'd really prefer their Bristolian namesakes to join the Premier League 'elite' next season. Firstly, I don't much fancy travelling to Hull from London for a replay of the incredibly dull FA Cup tie Villa played at the KC Stadium a few moons ago. Secondly, any team propelled to promotion by a player quite so robust and last-of-the-old-school as Dean Windass might actually trick me into thinking football retains the slightest sliver of integrity.
Watford? Well, we've done it all before, haven't we. To be honest though, I'd pick them as one to come up with City, as Aidy Boothroyd is gradually convincing me he's not the irritating f***nut I thought he was at first. Nasty ground, mind.
I'm sure I represent the view of many Villa fans when I say I'd prefer West Bromwich Albion stayed damn well put. The self-appointed 'best team in the Championship' have looked dead certs for promotion this season. I'm sure they deserve it, but it'd be best for my health if Kevin Phillips failed in his quest to get back to the Premier League. I don't think my lungs can manage 120 minutes of hissing at the little tw*t.
Of the following group - Plymouth, Ipswich and Palace - it's a tough choice. Well, between Palace and Plymouth it's a tough choice. Living in London, a Crystal Palace promotion would mean another away game I could realistically add to the collection. The problem is that Neil "Colin" Warnock would be unbearable for another season, even though I kind of like him in a way, and I like Plymouth because one of their fans helped me with my disseration. Tiny things and all that.
Exposing Scudamore
No, not like Paul Jewell's recently released directorial debut.
Every sensible football fan on the planet has made Premier League Jester-in-Chief Richard Scudamore a figure of hate after one of his retarded schemes finally tipped the balance with the average supporter, and not in his favour. 'Game 39' has pushed many fans right to the brink, with some of us considering watching non-league football or, in my case, disappearing abroad to watch some proper football.
Even with corruption being more open abroad, the game is more real on foreign shores. It's not this 'product' we have to put up with in England.
And so the prospect of City making it into the Premier League, where one of their supporters is doing his utmost to prove that football is dead, long live Football Plc, makes for an interesting situation.
Scudamore, though, is an entirely predictable creature, and we can say with some certainty that City's promotion would not give him more of a fan's perspective on his idiotic notions. He'd simply shit all over his own club too. But at least we'll all have the satisfaction of pointing this out to all and sundry.
And Finally...
Being a bit of a smug git, bragging rights perform a vital function. And if Bristol City are promoted this season, my boldest ever prediction will have come true, and I will dine out on it for decades.
In February 2004, I wrote this article, loudly and unashamedly proclaiming that Bristol City Football Club, of Division Two (that's League One, natch) would be in the Premier League in five years. Unless I'm very much mistaken, that gives me a deadline of February 2009, meaning City's promotion this season would make me extremely happy.
Sure, much has changed. Leroy Lita has moved on, as has manager Danny Wilson. But I always felt there was something about that club that made them ripe for a push into the big-time.
Given the conduct of Scudamore, one has to wonder whether they'd be better off staying where they are.
Shizzle from da blizzle.
Blogs 'n' sods.
The grip fans have over the game is loosened seemingly almost every day. Our boney, stubborn fingers are being chiselled from the neck of football by so many of its other stakeholders that some of us are losing faith at an alarming rate.
Only yesterday my team put in such a disappointing performance that, when coupled with the contempt with which we as football supporters are treated, had me seriously considering moving to Argentina to watch some real football.
The Premier League is but one culprit with its ridiculous 'Game 39', a round of important yet extra Premier League matches to be bid for by foreign cities and hosted abroad. Logical genius Richard Scudamore decided that fans would rather sacrifice the integrity of the League's home-and-away fixture set-up by adding an extra game than have a home game taken away from them each season.
Fortunately for football, The FA, FIFA, some outspoken club officials, pundits and, perhaps most crucially, foreign Associations have rubbished the plan. Mind you, it was rubbish already.
There are governmental interferences, particularly a report by Lord Justice Taylor which - along with the biggest scar on football, which I'll come to next - have encouraged the commercialisation of football. The working man has been outpriced, replaced by middle class wafters. Wembley spends large chunks of matches empty as 'Club Wembley' remains 'Club Swanky Concourse' long into the second half. Prawn sandwiches abound, presumably.
And so we come to the crux of the football vs fans issue: Sky.
I am not naive enough to blame Sky for the creation of the so-called 'big four', but it is responsible for the money which is, let's face it, the centrepoint of all footballing evil-doing.
Manchester United were the quickest off the mark and the smartest in turning this Sky money into real money, capitalising rapidly on a worldwide reputation and the expansion of English top-flight coverage. Early Premier League success turned United into a superpower of world football, and it's owing partly to Sky.
Though Arsenal's development came later and was more or less organic (give or take the media's London/Newcastle bias), Chelsea's meteoric rise to 'big club' came as a direct result of the Premier League's profile abroad. Liverpool's place in a 'big four' is debatable, frankly. Some would argue that Liverpool are only at the top of the chasing pack.
So why a 'big four'? Well, maybe because Liverpool have been incredibly successful in recent memory. Maybe because they've reached two Champions League finals in three seasons. Or maybe, just maybe, it's to create powerful marketing collateral.
And so we finally reach Grand Slam Sunday (picture from Sky). By a 'fluke' of the Premier League's magic fixture computer, the 'big four' has been drawn against itself for the second time this season. The upshot is that the rest of the League is largely annoyed while Sky pumps the hell out of all this Grand Slam Sunday nonsense for a fortnight prior to two games which, history suggests, will be dull anyway.
It's worrying, because Sky is forcing this down our throats unilaterally. It knows we're all slagging it off. It knows most of us couldn't give a toss about the 'big four' or Grand Slam Sunday. And it knows that it's totally ludicrous to market the life out of two games at the expense of many others. This is the upsetting thing: Sky is so untouchable that it doesn't care what we think. Sky is laughing at us this weekend.
And so I urge you to do what I'll be doing today: ignoring Grand Slam Sunday or, to give it its proper terminology, Chelsea v Arsenal and Manchester United v Liverpool. It won't do anything, but trust me, it'll be a refreshing Sunday afternoon outside the clutches of football's ruling classes.
Events conspired this morning to allow/force me to tune in for an hour or so of Soccer AM. You know, the one which used to be good before Tim Lovejoy became a nauseating self-parody and long before Andy Goldstein was brought in to fill Lovejoy's probably quite expensive shoes.
On it, I saw the clip embedded below: Watford boss Aidy Boothroyd thanking Hornets fans for their support on a cold, crappy midweek evening, with the score at 0-0. Brilliant stuff.
Read moreIt's nice being interested in the England side again, isn't it? What a contrast to the days of Steve McClaren's whimpering clueless lionesses.
Fabio Capello yesterday named his provisional 30-man squad - to be cut down to 23 on Saturday evening - for next Wednesday's friendly in beau Paris. And I cared.
As with all international squads, the bulk was fairly predictable. There are, as noted on some podcast or other, no noteworthy exclusions.
I'm sure Paul Robinson and Robert Green would disagree with that, but while Robinson may have a case, Green would do well to pipe down given the fact that he's conceded no less than 12 goals in his last three games.
The big news concerns two Davids, one of whom jokingly celebrated his selection by expressing his joy at being able to meet the other. Those selections, of course, are David Wheater (pictured, from 4thegame.com) of Middlesbrough, and Los Angeles Galaxy midfielder David Beckham.
Centre-half Wheater thoroughly deserves his call-up, belying the form of his team-mates by putting in a magnificent season. He's shown strength at the back and an eye for goal. I rate him quite highly, and I'm delighted Mr Capello has seen his potential also. Congratulations to Wheater.
Beckham's selection has, inevitably, led to an unhealthy amount of politicising, theorising and crystal ball-bothering. His fitness is still rather unproven, but this 100th cap situation is best resolved and forgotten about. The man deserves it, but it's time he was honoured with it and then shipped out.
Some say Becks will be one of the unlucky few dropped on Saturday, or that he won't feature against France. That would mean he's given his 100th cap against, you guessed it, the United States of America. Some say he'll get 100 against France and 101 against the USA, while others argue he'll play next Wednesday and then never be seen in an England game again.
I find the latter unlikely, as I believe Beckham will bow out of his international career at Wembley, and rightly so.
Anyway, to the rest of the squad.
The goalkeeping selections are worthy of comment. David James is without doubt the best English 'keeper in the League currently. He will surely be number one come Wednesday. But his understudies, Chris Kirkland and Scott Carson, have raised a few eyebrows. If you ask me, Kirkland proves every single week that he is not, and has never been, international quality. Meanwhile, Carson's call-up suggests that form is not the only key to England selection.
The defensive candidates include the regular bunch plus Wheater. Wayne Bridge, J*hn T*rry and A*hley C*le of Chelsea are in, along with former team-mate, Glen Johnson of Portsmouth. Manchester United duo Wes Brown and Rio Ferdinand, Everton's Joleon Lescott, Matty Upson of West Ham and Wheater complete the line-up, along with Jonathan Woodgate of Spurs.
The midfield group is made up of: Beckham; villa duo Gareth Barry and Ashley Young; Joe Cole, Fat Frank and Shaun Wright-Phillips of Chelsea; Blackburn winger David Bentley and Boro winger Stuart Downing; Steven Gerrard of Liverpool; Man United man Owen Hargreaves; and Spurs' Jermaine Jenas.
Up front Capello has a few options. Theo Walcott of Arsenal and Villa's Gabby Agbonlahor provide the pace and Peter Crouch provides every defender's worst nightmares. Deadly finishing comes from Wayne Rooney and Jermain Defoe and Michael Owen brings...well, nothing.
So, all in all it's a squad which mixes consistent selection with a few picked on great form. One thing's for sure: they'll be well behaved with Capello's rules in place. Come on England!
Things to click for today.
He's Brazilian, he's in the Bundesliga and, if speculation is to be believed, he's on his way to Chelsea this summer. Given those factors, and the glowing recommendation of Beeb legend Tim Vickery, I looked him up.
Now, far be it from me to judge a player on a YouTube video, but... wow. This guy's best bits - and let's face it, it's not all this good - are incredible.
Football news and blogs, jumping straight in with both feet:
'National Game Strategy'. Sounds grand, doesn't it. The Football Association today launched the NGS, a staggering £200m investment in grassroots football.
The Association (key figures pictured, from Telegraph.co.uk) rarely does itself any favours. We've seen a couple of chortleworthy incidents recently, with Middlesbrough's Jeremie Aliadiere having a ban extended while Frank Lampard had his red card rescinded. Lampard's offence (a kick, not a slap as claimed by a back-tracking official team) was easily worse.
In a nutshell, The FA is far from perfect. But to its credit, it seems to be taking the development of a blueprint for English football very seriously indeed.
I've yet to read the latest strategy document in full - I will do over the next few days, I promise. But given the publicity received today in even the most critical outlets, I think it's comfortable to say that the strategy - or, more likely, the investment - has been incredibly well received.
The strategy has four main pillars, according to FA Chief Executive Brian Barwick:
1. To get more people involved in the game
2. To develop better coaches and more skilful players
3. To enable easier organisation of the game locally
4. To raise standards of behaviour and address abusive behaviour
You can read much, much more at the link I provided earlier, but suffice to say that The FA is claiming it is committed to the four points above, plus tackling the ticking, writhing, blotchy timebomb of child obesity.
Let's face it, The FA must be applauded for bringing in this strategy, and chucking its not insignificant wallet behind it all. Points 1 and 2 from Barwick's quote are simple common sense. 3 and 4 are, as much as anything, means to those ends.
The growing discourse on youth and grassroots football, which has been developing since Steve McClaren showed so clearly that English football is a mess, has aligned itself with a strategy for touchline and dugout behaviour as well as technical development. And it's a really sensible place to start.
Congratulations to the Football Association on a very good day. I look forward to reading the full document, and seeing how the strategy is implemented. I am very optimistic.
Matt's back folks. Our guest blogger isn't happy about the FA Cup underdogs' success, but his temper has been tamed by the notching of two more Football League venues on his supporters' football passport.
Many fans up and down the country are enjoying this season’s FA Cup. None of the big four are in the semi-finals, and the competition could see its first winner from outside the top flight since West Ham in 1980.
For the neutral, it is as exciting as it can get. The magic of the FA Cup is back. But I have a problem. Like every true football fan, we all like to the smaller teams to do well at the expense of the big boys.
But I can’t truly enjoy this seasons FA Cup: I am a Southampton fan. In this instance, I’m not talking about our embarrassing defeat to Bristol Rovers (embarrassing for the fact that our performance was totally inept, not because we lost to a lower league side). I am talking about the odds-on favourite for this season’s FA Cup now being our arch-rivals, Portsmouth. Could it be any worse?!
Replace them with any of the other middle of the road Premier teams and I would be loving this season’s FA Cup, looking forward to the little guy finally winning a major honour again. As it is, I don’t want the semi-finals to happen.
'Some kind of living hell'
Fear: does the future hold the skates being able to laud a major honour over us. It would be hard to take, almost unbearable. I don’t want them to be the team to break the big boys’ dominance. I would rather Chelsea bought themselves the cup for another 5 years than have the skates win it once. This is some kind of living hell.
But, like all football fans, I do live in hope. The hope that, being the only Premier side left in the cup, and odds-on favourites, they totally blow it. The hope that West Bromwich Albion, thanks to ex-Saint Kevin Phillips, knock them out in the semi-finals. It would be hilarious.
But I daren’t dream. The likelihood does not bare thinking about either. So while all you neutral fans are lapping up this season’s FA Cup, spare a thought for Saints fans, Baggies, Swans and, to a lesser extent, Owls. We’d all love to be joining you in enjoying this remarkable Cup competition, but instead we just wish it wasn’t our rivals involved!
'The 92'
Recent weeks of the footballing calendar have taken me to two new venues, Glanford Park in Scunthorpe and Bloomfield Road in Blackpool. There’s always a feeling of satisfaction in watching football in a new venue, and especially as these edge me that little bit closer to ‘the 92’.
Scunthorpe is a funny little ground. Having been built not so long ago, but before the ‘modern era’, it doesn’t quite feel old, but also clearly isn’t new. It is, depressingly, stuck out of town on a retail park - apparently new generations of fans like this??!! - with very few pubs nearby. But we did locate the Berkeley Hotel, which was selling ale for just £1.26 a pint. A welcome change for us Southerners!
In Blackpool we located a pub with a bowling green. But not just any bowling green. The pub had a three-sided stadium attached to it, the fourth side being the back of the pub itself, surrounding the green. This was an exciting discovery, but sadly we were not able to enjoy a game ourselves. Still, if it hadn’t been for football, I would never have discovered this pub!
'Do it for Eddie'
And, finally, I have decided to watch Dundee Utd vs Rangers this afternoon, in the CIS Cup Final. If you get a chance, do some research on Tangerines owner Eddie Thompson. The man is a true legend, and his losing battle with cancer hasn’t dampened any of his spirit. He is lucky to still be alive for this final, and I hope they can win it for him. [Ed: to update the readers, sadly United lost the final on penalties]
That Friday feeling.
I'll post properly again soon, I promise. Meanwhile...
More stuff from people better at this interwebby thing than me.
Fear not, beloved readers, TFT will not become an autobiographical account of my footballing escapades.
However, I must recount my joy at returning to the football pitch in the last couple of weeks - a mere seven years since I last played a 'proper' match. Back in those days, a lobotomised manager and my own stroppy teenager impersonation led to my waning enjoyment of the game and, when combined with my adolescent addiction to my then-girlfriend, I hung up my boots. Well, they were Paolo Maldini's boots really, but that's another story.
Since that fateful day, I've played kickabout football only sporadically, with much of my time spent learning the joys of a good beer, a good sleep and, now, a good woman. The footballer in me died, I put on weight and was finally diagnosed with asthma. No turning back, right?
The thing with that, folks, is that football is an addiction, and one I have increasingly become unable to ignore. So last week I took up the opportunity to head into West London to join in a weekly six-a-side kickabout on a pretty decent all-weather surface. We played on Monday. I still ached on Thursday evening. But by god it was worth it. Two goals under my belt and I'd caught the bug again.
Last night I had another crack, and today my legs are giving me no trouble at all. I played well, scored a hat-trick and absolutely loved it. Now I hear the possibility of a London Villans team being set up in the capital, and I can hardly wait.
Look out, football world. The slightly overweight left-wing-hugging right-footed striker is back.
Today's footballisms.
News an' ting.
Sepp Blatter (pictured, from BBC Sport). President of FIFA. King of Football. Master of Foolishness.
He's come out with a few gems in his time, the absolute favourite being that ladies football kits should be 'suited' to the elegance and beauty of those creatures dwelling within.
For the last few days, Big Sepp has brought his unique brand of entertaining outbursts to the UK, prior to and during the International Board's meeting at Gleneagles.
It all began with a touch of common sense. While nattering about the Old Firm (that's those two teams in Scotland), Blatter suggested that FIFA - as the world's governing body - would not endorse the move from Scotland to England. What's going on? Sepp Blatter talking sense? The whole world is upside down!
Worry ye not, football fans of the world. Normal service resumed instantly, with Friday's second insight concerning the issue of dangerous tackling.
Zero tolerance on dangerous tackling seems awfully sensible for the FIFA chief, so kudos to him for that. However, someone of that influence should be able to see Martin Taylor's tackle on Eduardo and realise that, while it was a red card tackle, it was not even the worst tackle of the last two weeks. Arsenal fans could do worse than taking a look at Philippe Senderos' assault during Arsenal's draw at home to Villa before declaring themselves football's moral guardians.
Another of football's cretinous aristocracy, Birmingham City's David Gold, was understandably furious with Blatter, and felt sufficiently infringed-upon to produce an outburst of his own. Or he smelled a camera nearby. Either way.
Finally, we must return to the 'burning' (or not) question of the Great British Olympic football team. The government, in their infinite wisdom, back the idea - completely ignoring the implications of the move within FIFA which could, in theory, take actions against the Associations of England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland.
Not to be outdone, though, Blatter has proposed a solution: GB could play in 2012, but should field only England players. I'm not Scottish, Welsh or Irish, but if I were I'd be torn between a) being annoyed and b) not wanting to represent GB anyway. Ridiculous.
More from Sepp this week, probably.
More randomism from a quick scout round t'interweb.
I'll be posting something more worthwhile later today, but for now I've got my bragging boots on - so here are the goals from Boca's Libertadores win over Atlas of Mexico. Let's hope they can do the same again back in the domestic league.
Read moreMore news and views from the digital world of football.
Today's top news stories and blog posts.
My line of work means I occasionally have to stumble across gadgety websites like T3. Sometimes - not often, but sometimes - something of interest to the football community rears its head.
The latest such story was a news piece I came upon yesterday, announcing that Puma has developed the 'world's first intelligent football'. And very intelligent it is too, although its value is ultimately questionable.
Puma is earning something of a reputation for itself in the field of sports development. Their strips over the last decade or so have been revolutionary, sometimes too revolutionary. We all remember the skintight effort worn by Italy, and the ingenius all-in-one outfit which was intended to thrust Cameroon into the aristocracy of international football.
I'm pretty sure a source at Puma told me they'd spent some time developing the world's roundest ever football too. Not just the roundest, it seems.
On top of that, their attention must have moved onto the burning (?!) question of football intelligence. Presenting, then, the Puma V1.08, the football with a brain. The concept is rather impressive. It all hinges on a layer of material between inner ball and casing - the d3o layer, in case you were wondering - whose properties allow the ball to adapt its behaviour to the type of contact made on it.
So, if a player controls the V1.08 with a deft touch, dribbles it up the wing, or cushions a pass to a colleague, the ball feels soft as a feather.
But here's the science part (concentrate!): give the thing some welly and the molecules of the d3o layer instantly lock together, meaning the world's roundest ball leaves the foot with acceleration increased by 6%. That, folks, is very clever.
Aside from Puma's push into the position of sports development thought leadership, the V1.08 is unlikely to make too much of an impact - or at least I hope not. The very core of football is the level playing field, and the presumption that the laws of the game can be applied equally from Premier League level right down to 22 fat blokes playing on Hackney marshes (sorry, how very cliche).
Therefore, until this ball or balls like it become ubiquitous, the uniformity of the football world should not be compromised by the big boys having better equipment than the BIG boys. I understand that is already technically true, but I firmly believe that in the case of the football, the likes of you and I should not be disadvantaged on the basis of finance.
Still, it's damn cool. Nice work.
West Ham United are a funny old club in a funny old game. Their fans, though they often do little to endear themselves to others, have had to deal with much. Take recent seasons. The club has been known to impersonate a novelty-sized claret and blue yo-yo. But we’ve also seen the development of the likes of Joe Cole and Jermain Defoe, the enthralling form of Carlos Tevez (all other arguments on that issue aside) and one of the greatest FA Cup finals of all time.
In the light of the Hammers’ 0-4 thumping by Chelsea on Saturday afternoon, it seems a reasonable enough time to discuss a comment I read late last week, by The Guardian’s David Hytner.
Hytner referred to the influential Paolo di Canio’s (pictured, from The FA)“intoxicating blend of magic and mayhem”. It’s a far cry, wrote Hytner, from the football which has recently been met by boos from the West Ham support.
Alan Curbishley will bear the brunt of the support’s criticism, and arguably rightly so. Despite last season’s escape from relegation, Curbishley’s management of West Ham United looks, from the outside, to have been underwhelming.
I recall being surprised that Curbishley took on the job. Having removed his nameplate from the manager’s office door at The Valley, where he was admired and successful, it was inevitable that the ex-Charlton boss would make a move into the Premier League sooner or later. But he is discovering to his cost that he has made two mistakes which every talented English manager - particularly those with a pragmatic approach to the game - should be wary of.
Curbishley could have been more cautious in returning to football with West Ham, firstly because he is clearly very fond of the club and, while it sounds like the stuff dreams are made of, it always seemed likely to be a recipe for disaster. After all, Curbishley had carved a niche for himself in the Premier League with Charlton.
The second factor in the West Ham manager’s falling into a trap is that his niche is not one West Ham fans are willing to fill, and his is essentially unproven elsewhere. He did exceptionally well in keeping a small club in the top flight, making slow, painstaking progress. United fans, however, want improvement much faster.
West Ham are a big club with big expectations, and they appointed a manager who, though promising, was vitally lacking in experience at such a level. Tied with self-imposed pressure resulting from Curbishley’s affiliation with West Ham prior to his appointment, the marriage always seemed destined to end in confusion and, quite possibly, disaster.
United are certainly not a crisis club, nor are they likely to be any time soon. But the supporters consider themselves connoisseurs, and Paolo di Canio epitomises their adoration for footballing mavericks. It seems they’re finally becoming vocal in their mass criticism of their manager.
A couple of weeks ago I was asked by the editor of Soccerlens if I'd like to make a contribution to the blog, possibly around youth football in the United Kingdom. I was, of course, delighted to take up this opportunity, and duly submitted a piece outlining how I think English football in particular needs to approach youth football in order to halt the current stagnation.
My article was posted yesterday, and you can read it here. Thanks to Ahmed - the opportunity was much appreciated, sir.
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