US stocks plummet as the Euro soars!

Greetings Armchair sportsfans!

When will it all end? This epic summer of sport continues to deliver on all fronts of success, performance, determination and sheer bloody brilliance!

The echelons of sporting history now has another chapter to be written into its annuls. Liverpool's second half comeback in Istanbul in the champions league final, Botham's ashes heroics in '81 and now the 'miracle of Medinah'.

Midway through Saturday afternoon even the most Merkel loving EU supporter couldn't envisage even a close run finish let alone the type of miraculous turn around which eventuated. And who could blame us for fearing the US hot dog slapping to continue into Sunday and perhaps inflict the heaviest recorded Ryder Cup defeat.

But that's just not how this summer has been, particularly for us in the Home nations of which greatness on the sporting battlefield is almost expected, unless you follow football that is, or sometimes cricket?

So as per usual millions of us were glued to our TV and computer screens, ears pinned the dulcet radio tones occasionally punctuated by roars, groans and boos from the present galleries. Hours of pacing, nail-biting and fist pumping that shredded every nerve and led us from not a prayer to just perhaps all the way to unbridled delight.

'Who needs invisible chairs...we've just won the Ryder Cup'

According to G-Mac (and no that's not an X factor group) Ole' gave his troops the Fergie hairdryer treatment in the team debriefing on Saturday afternoon. Given what followed on Sunday it seemed like Ole' had opted for the flame thrower instead and with the spirit of Seve galvanised the Europeans better than any austerity measures ever could.

What is it about the Ryder cup that turns what is typically very dull and uninspiring to the greatest game on the planet? Easy...flogging the arrogant yanks at the game they not only believe they're better at but also which they think they invented!

Just as in life we unfortunately rely on the good old US of A for many things; oil, cholesterol and most important of all competition. Pity they play a lot of rubbish nationalistic sports that nobody else gives a 'Mickleson' about which allows they to excel against all odds-on.

But it's more than just sporting contest, I think we just don't like 'em all that much? Their brash, arrogant, noisy, often obese and infinitely annoying...far too much like us Europeans really!

'And you wonder why we like beating you so much'

All the 'get in the hole' shouts, whooping and hollering don't earn you many fans of a gentleman's game built on tradition and respect and makes it all the more pleasant when you get your gobs shut by a Justin Rose 30 footer or a Poulter birdie run.

So where did it all go wrong for the mighty team from the States?

Unassailable lead, Europe's top players crumbling and putts dropping like glazed doughnuts in mugs of coffee. Aside from the determination of the Europeans we've already noted we must look at the other side if the coin.

Were they too cocky? Or was it simply the right application of pressure onto a group of men to whom are perhaps used to winning individually and basking in personal limelight  but not familiar with the ethos of teamwork. It is no surprise then that 7 of the past 9 Ryder cups have belonged to the continent after years of stateside dominance.

Nope! Europe were just too bloody good when it came to the Mitty gritty. Even our sleepy youngster managed to roll himself out of bed in time to roll up with no warm up and still win a point.

And as our clutch putts seeked out every cup every swing of an American club shanked, pulled and lipped itself every which way but where it was intended...bloody marvellous wasn't it!

'Argh...what the Furyk!'

Surely their cannot be more sporting drama left in this stellar year? Where will the next sporting surprise come from?

Fleetwood Town to win the FA Cup! You just don't know anymore, anything seems possible after Medinah.

'Get in the hole' sportsfans!

Post-olympic stress disorder!

Greetings Armchair sports fans!

The absence of London 2012 has left many of us with a sporting vacuum that is near impossible to replace.

We all knew that it'd come to an end however much we wished it could just go on forever. But here we find ourselves over two weeks since the flame was extinguished struggling to find our place in the sporting world.

If you are starting to feel the same way as me then you could be suffering from POSD; post-Olympic stress disorder. And there are some tell-tell signs.

Do you find yourself inadvertently doing the mo-bot at the most inappropriate times? Growing your side-burns long? Wondering what Boris Johnson is doing day to day? Or perhaps you just miss the mannish looks of Claire Balding (probably not the last one?).

'Fancy a skinny dip?'

But don't fret as luckily we have the perfect anti-dote.

Should you be suffering POSD symptoms then don't consult your physician, take multiple liberal doses of the Premier league to cure all your ailments!

Funny how it takes an event such as London 2012 to distract us from the new football season, something we are usually counting down to from the end of May or whenever England are knocked our from bi-annual international tournaments.

We even had the pleasure of a 3 week European championship to tide us through the summer this time and yet still the new season and all it entails hasn't captivated us like so many before.

Perhaps its due to the phenomenal end from the last one, maybe it just cannot get better than what has gone before?

Alas just like and old flame that drifts back into your life almost unannounced - so to can our love of football be instantly rekindled. The first blow of the whistle, a swerving 30-yarder, the clumsy late challenge, a goalkeeping howler and my personal fave a bit of side-line managerial red mist!

'The Premiership is back you blind muppet!'

If you haven't yet caught the fever of this current football season its probably stands to reason that you're either anti-football or possibly a Villa fan? Or even more likely both as the current Aston Villa squad stands.

Of all the managers on the merry-go-round this summer Paul Lambert seemingly got off at the wrong time or perhaps got so dizzy he lost his bearings? Even a fit Darren Bent can't tuck them away if the rest of the team can't get the ball up to him?

Another manager leaving a fluid, organised and polished team to greener (perhaps) pasture is Brendan Rodgers. Naturally the lure of the Kop makes a bit more sense this time but having seen his old mob win the first 2, score 8 and concede 0 and look downright Barcelona-esq in the process he to might be thinking he's got the rough end of the stick?

Let's all cool our collective heels, its still early doors but if I were Lambert or Hughes at the moment I'd be getting a little nervous already.

Moving on from managers...but still on the subject of moving - what of the personnel changes within the league. Van Persie, Sigurdsson, Rodwell, Podolski? Forget all of them for the moment as within the space of 3 games Eden Hazard has shown why he was coveted by so many.

All the sceptics wheeled out the same arguements before the season began; the French league isn't as strong, he's not big enough for the Premiership, tricky quick footed players get found out soon enough...humble pie the lot of you!

If the bloke can get El Nino scoring goals (albeit offside ones) then surely he's got to have some future.

'This league is easy Nando - don't see what all the fuss is?'

Di Matteo must be pinching himself before he goes to sleep at night. FA Cup and Champions League winners after only months in charge, top of the league, a squad full of stars and possibly a mickey-mouse European Super Cup to come?

We'll no doubt take a little look at the Paralympics in our own backyard but football will be tough to knock off the back pages, unless any more of the Royal family decide to get their kit off and jump in the pool. And let's face it...if it's anyone other that Kate or Pippa then I'd still rather watch the footy!

Goodnight sports fans!

  

London's legacy

Greetings Armchair sportsfans!

If you're like me at all you've probably hardly left the now flattened cushions of your couch for the past 16 days!

From all the pomp and ceremony of the opening to the celebrated Britain of its close, London 2012 has left us feeling all rightly chuffed about ourselves. Only England winning a world cup (which'll never happen) I cannot see anything on the sporting or cultural landscape even close to eclipsing it.

Not even deliberately not-trying shuttle cocks, masculine shot putting drug cheats or official moaning Italians couldn't ruin these great games.

Naturally it helps when the hosts are racking up the podium apperances along the way and Team GB surpassed perhaps even their own expectations and most definately ours. Plus it helps when the old enemies are languishing below; the French, Germans and yes for me with a tinge of gritted teeth - the Aussies!

Let's face it there's so many great memories of sucess and sadness from not just Team GB but all competing nations that its almost impossible to focus on individual greatness...but this is the Olympics and despite the ethos of Dr. Rogge et al and their spirit of the games diatribe - it is after all a competition.

In the wake of these games, only a day old now mind you, who can honestly reflect on the triumph of those not on the top step? So let's celebrate the celebrated.

For mine only two athletes personfied the true essence of what makes us all feel special about the Olympics and both did it in their very own different and opposing ways. Usain Bolt and Mo Farah became the kings of these games, one by simply destroying all those around him the other by connecting us all with humilty of life and sacrifice.

The Mo-bolt?

Usain Bolt can annoy many with his antics and prize fighter showboating but when you can do what he's done then he can probably get away with it...living legend might be a tad strong a label given who's gone before him or indeed whom may follow but for 10 or 20 seconds (depending on which event) there's no-one who lights up a track in the same way.

Mo Farah, what a guy! A quiet, humble and unasuming family man from a war-torn, impoverish background and now double Olympic champion. Not only did he give us two amazing performances of determination but also the best celebration of the games - the mo-bot was being copied everywhere, even performers and athletes at he closing ceremony. Even better than that shirt ripping, hurdling German tank after he won the discus.

Sure Phelps became the greatest ever, Hoy the greatest Britain, Ainsle the greatest sailor but much of their efforts came from previous games. Without wanting the gloss over those feats in anyway at all it was perhaps the theme of London 2012 'inspire a generation' shows exactly how those efforts are already taking shape across the Olympic family.

Missy Franklin, Katie Ledecky, Laura Trott, Ye Shiwen, Ruta Meilutyte are all names we'll be talking about in future Olympic parlance as perhaps the greatest of their time. Each of them already champions and nearly all of them already more than once in their first of many games.

Another young athlete stole British hearts four years ago in Beijing as a wee-man in tight little speedos took to the 10 metre platform. This time around he did it again as a slightly older wee-man in tight little speedos. You can't help but love the lad, with his back-pack over his shoulder almost as the apprehensive first few steps of the new school year.

To his credit he showed how much growing up such young shoulders must do when carrying the hopes and dreams of an entire nation. Although he didn't win the big one (this time) I can't recall seeing a more excited reaction to bronze, from Tom, the crowd and his team - epitomised in the joyous poolside celebration.

A teenage boys dream come true...and he won bronze too!

Clearly Great Britain had a stormer, as is typical for any host nation. But let's not forget about those who made such an event possible. No-one really enjoys the stuffiness of beuracracy and political beguiling which occurs to curry favour within the IOC. But at worst its a necessary evil that bores wonderful greatness.

In fact without the likes of Coe, Beckham, Wales' and lets face it Boris himself we wouldn't be gushing over how bloody good and perfect we've been. Plus we all need a buffon to make us all look a little less serious and uptight about everything - for that Boris is the perfect foil.

In Beijing he resembled a stunned sheep fluttering the giant flag inside the Birds Nest. During these games he's look confused from the stands, mumbled non-sensically about events, danced like you Dad at a wedding during the opening ceremony and my personal favourite been stuck hanging from a zip line.

'Errr, ummm, ba-ba...is this an Olympic event?'

Having been in the priveledged position of being so close to two different Olympics (Sydney 2000 being the other) I have no doubt what it means to those hosting, let alone the ones competing. The games bring us together, make us happier and push all our darker thoughts and worries to the periphery. And that's what makes it so special, what makes it the greatest event on earth.

So the curtain closes on London 2012 and eyes turn to Rio on four years time. Will they be able to replicate what has gone before us this past fortnight? Who cares! But no doubt we'll enjoy every moment of watching them try!

Goodbys London, goodbye sportsfans!

Bikes, beards and blunders!

Greetings armchair sportsfans!

In and around all the hoop-la which is London 2012 its easy to gloss over everyday feats of sporting grandure and failures.

We are only a week away from the biggest sporting show on earth and potentially a catastrophic embarresment for all those involved which would be a typically English thing to do and thus would be hailed as the greatest games ever.

But we'll have to put our (my) preconceptions on the medal shelf for just a little while and cross pur fingers Boris doesn't look too stupid, Phillip doesn't offend anyone and cor' blimey Team GB get some of those shiny round things!

One man that must be a dead cert for a gold is that Victorian era side-burn afficiando Bradley Wiggins. Seeing as yellow is close enough to gold already he'd probably win it with the bloomin' medal hanging off his handle bars whilst riding side-saddle on a bmx.

'How can you not love a bloke sporting these mutton-chops'

To me all cyclists are freaks, not in a horrible way...more in a 'you silly mad bastard, why would you do that to yourself day after day?' type of freak. The eveidence is all there, just look at those mental weekend cycling groups or indeed the suicidal couriers chancing death each day in the workplace.

Sportingwise I admire them for doing such a crazy event, not just for the physical side of it but also for the fact that for 90% of the time its as boring as F1.

Let's face it..nowt happens except for the odd vertical tussle up a pretty mountain or a race against the clock in a funny looking helmet. And just like those quick F1 things you know that the massses watching on the box are willing for a crash of hilarious magnitude.

Great Britain can not only hang their collective hats on Wiggo but also in the knowledge that the nation is surely destined for a glut of golds from all those on London on two wheels.

One man not reaching the sporting echelons on Sunday was Australia's own Murray...Adam Scott. Blessed with talent us weekend hackers could only dream off and coverted with the same mental fragility that us mere mortals face everytime we address the ball.

Before the final round at Royal Lytham & St. Annes Scott was speaking to the Beeb about his heroes and how he wished to emulate his fellow coutryman in Open championships past. Unfortunately he emulated (not quite as badly) Norman's famous Masters collapse as if he meant every poor swing and lipped putt.

'Maybe I should grow mop of blonde hair?'

Like Murray you do feel for him and you begin to wonder if that magic moment will ever come to pass, talented yes...a winner...not yet? Scott's faux pars (sorry for that pun) unravelled quicker than Tevez's caddying career. The sheepish look of winner Els' face tells you all you need to know about the Open which was lost more than won.

It's hard enough not too look smug at that moment in time and even harder when you look like the Big Easy, with big bobbly head then its even more difficult to hide it. Scott was gracious in defeat as always...at least he didn't cry like a baby!

Ernie wasn't the only South African enjoying himself in the English sunday sunshine. Pretty much the entire team was dining out on English bowling at the Oval, none more so than Hashim Amla. He isn't the most stereotypical looking South African or indeed cricketer going around.

Then again we won't begrudge cricket player pinching given England themselves rely on a few deserters to fill out their xi these days. So we can doff our caps to Hashim for his chanceless innings of touch and grace and be thankful that everytime we get to see him make another ton we'll be treated to his fabulous barnet.

Ok...so the barnet is on his face and it all looks a little backwards. Its a though his face is like a magic eye picture and if you stare long enough into his beard you'll see a sailboat?

'I've seen it and I want to see it again'

Nobody loves seeing the poms getting a spanking on the cricket field and I get the feeling Mr. Amla does too.

So with baited breath and much finger crossing we await the grand opening on Friday and hope for the love of all that it doesn't make us look like bunch of knobs!

Goodnight sportsfans!

The Crying Game

Greetings armchair sportsfans!

Poor old Andy Murray, today even ardent BNP supporters were lamenting over his distrught face all over the papers.

Until now he's never been the most popular of sporting characters knocking around but it's amazing what being a perenial loser can do for you. Just ask Henman or that other tall lanky fella who also commentates for the Beeb.

Let's not be too harsh on the lad, after all it ain't his fault that he's very good at something at the same time a few others are better and one in particular is simply out of this world!

We all hoped that this year would be his year, his best chance at winning the big one but someone forgot to tell Roger that part of the script. Andy has the all-round game, the grit and plucky determination but yet when the big moments arrive he's still as flaky as an Arbroath smoky!

Don't worry mate there's always next year???

There's no shame in losing to Federer, surely the greatest player to ever grace the court. And you can't be angry at him for being that good even if he does play with that irritating easy nature that gets under your skin, like Spanish football. He's also a seemingly nice bloke, wife and kids, good looks...what a shite!

He even had the audacity to assure Murray that one grand slam will be his...that's providing neither he nor Nadal or Djokovich decide they'd like a few more shiny things above their fireplace. No doubt Murray will believe it, he has no choice about that. However I'm beginning to feel that 'our Andy' (that's his name now by the way) might just end up trawling the same route to punditry that's befallen those before him.

Then again I can't see that happening either as Murray hasn't shown us any personality to suggest putting his grumpy mug of the telly would be about as clever as his drop shot. But it ain't all bad, eh? He'll earn a few quid knocking about the circuit for the next decade and after that coaching the next generation of Wimbledon blubbers.

Sure he ain't won squat but he's young, a decent player to be fair, the nation off his back and a fit young thing on his arm. Not that much to cry about really.

Oh no...its contagious!

Still I'd rather watch Murray struggle around the court all over again than watch Buffalo Williams do anything on or off the court and that goes for her sister Horse Williams too.

Ok they redefined and dominated the women's game through strength and athleticism and changed tennis fashion by destroying that too. You could throw a crochet blanket over a cow and it'd look the same and some of the awful tripe they're flashed at SW19.

Maybe bad dress sense is a champion type thing, RF hasn't got his clothing line moving off the shelves as silkily as he moves around the baseline. 

The women's game is not that interesting, even female tennis players and fans prefer to watch the men's game and not for the same reason we blokes don't mind two grunting russian dolls slugging it out in skimpy white dresses and pink knickers.

'Game, set and match Mr. Ed and Daisy'

The true heroes at Wimbledon over the past fortnight beside the Fed Express was that fella who beat Nadal (forgot his name already..so memorable) and that other Murray...Marray (sorry) and Neilsen. These two chaps had only played three tournaments together, never earned a penny and barely had enough kit to last into the second week.

And yet they overcame all this, beat the best doubles players going around and still their feats are washed away by the Scotsmans tears...we do love a loser after all.

Toodle-pip sportsfans!

Death, taxes and losing shoot-outs!

Greetings armchair sportsfans!

Well its been over a month since the last posting but you'll have to forgive my extended break for it has been a deliberate measure on my part not to pass comment too soon.

And for that I'm truly glad!

Let's talk Euros and England. Many a pudit, sports reporter, pub football expect et al have pronounced the new era of English football. Built on a balance of youth and experience and a wise old English speaking head who's managed around the globe. A grand new era...same end product.

England bowing out on penalties is as certain as death and taxes and most of us would rather take those two options over watching a turgid lot of over paid pillars hoofing the ball upfield and shuffiling back into a 9-1 formation.

All the defensive solidarity, work ethic and organisation might win you the hearts of the neutrals and some football romatics it gets you sweet fanny adams when it comes to football matches. There's no doubting the importance of such qualities but if you can't get hold of that round thing then you've got little hope of it ending up in the back of net.

Hodgson clearly set-up to navigate the group, which he did. Sure it wasn't pretty but we hoped and got mildy excited that it might be cagey tactics by the wiley old owl, which we did. When it came down to a few players 12 yards away from goal and a semi-final...did they falter...of course they did!

'Well lads did you really expect anything different?'

You can't blame Hodgson for the performances, he probably got the best out of what he had, unfortunately what he had wasn't very good. England strang about as many passes together for the whole tournament as they did sentences in post-game interviews and about as incisive and creative too. Perhaps they figured the ball would explode if they held onto for more than a split second and hence lumping it long and shooting nowhere near the target was a safety measure?

Aside from every game Spain plays and Greece v Germany the other night I can't recall seeing a more one-sided match this tournament and against an Italian team whom nobody thought were up to much before it all kicked off. Let's face it, surely they're too busy worrying about how to fix matches for next seasons Scudetti to actually put out a side that can defend, pass and create all at the same time?

Even crazy Mario put in a decent shift and if not for an excellent and sometimes fortunate rearguard action from Hart & Co. your local funeral directors) then we could've seen a much heftier defeat, which was probably deserved.

No doubt Ashley will be low of the list of baby names (both boys and girls) for the remainder of the year and to be fair its probably not that high of the list for modern day parents. Unless of course you spell it Aishlay or with a couple of hyphen thrown into the mix. Everyone loves a scapegoat and its safe to say it could've been Walcott or Carroll ears burning this morning instead...somebody had to miss.

 
'It's all your fault, we'd of won the lot if it weren't for you...er...probably not'

So that's the lot for another major tournament and another 2 years for rebuilding or moving backwards, either way we'll all be full of hope after the first game...its what we do best, shame we can't be as good at footy?

England's penality shoot-out exit was inevitable but even they weren't as short odds as the four-legged superstar that graced Royal Ascot on Saturday. Black Caviar flew across the globe to entrall the crowds and smite all before her as she'd done 21 out of her previous 21 starts and truly put the stuffing up the toffs in top hats and tails.

As an both an anti-podean and a racing fan I can understand people gathering in the city centre to watch the race at 1:30am in winter to watch such an event. Australia will salute a sporting great from a different species without thinking twice about it, then again the English voted a dog the best talent in the country so I guess that makes it even.

Hopefully nobody was stupid enough to put their dollars or sterling at odds of 1-6 and if they did part with their hard earned they'd of got a fright watching the surest of sure things nearly bottle it. You can't help but thinking every Brit in the grandstand and on the grass was hoping she'd get the smug grin wiped off her face as if it were the Ashes but with horses?

Yes she won...just! Had Black Caviar tasted her first defeat we would've not blamed the beast but the numpty at helm. Similar to the two Ashleys', Saturdays racing pillock was almost Mr Luke Nolan who decided the he'd done enough work for the day and tucked his whip into his tiny trousers.

The trainer slated him anyway, along with pundits alike...imagine what'd happened of he'd lost? Maybe he be saluted to showing great spirit and teamwork, just like England!

'One is not too amused with your horsemanship'

That's about that then; Wimbledon time now and another chance to support average British sportsmen and women.

Anyone else see a pattern forming here?

Ta-da Sportsfans!

Di Matteo is the special one...mark 3???

Greetings armchair sportsfans!


Well what can we say? After years of trying and billions of pounds later Rom has finally reached his holy grail with a flourishing and entertaining side too...wait...not quite.

'But we deserved it!' they cry, 'this was our destiny'. Bollocks! Yes football is a team game and protecting your end is just as important and laying siege to the mob at the opposite end. For this you cannot deny Chelsea's tenacity and drog-eness, but by heck it was dull!

UEFA are probably happy that it ended in a shoot-out as it meant we actually had more than a handful of shots on target and that most will not remember the turgid 80 odd minutes which preceded it. Any self-righteous football follower knows that if it weren't for a very un-German-esq performance from Bayern we'd all be slating Chelsea as lumbering route one no-hopers!

Bayern domintated the entire match in all departments; yet they were wasteful in front of goal, missed penalties, didn't defend a near-post corner with only minutes left and losing a shout-out! Its just not German like, in fact its down right English of them!

'Hide me! They'll take away my German passport for missing that pen!'

Of course all this was not just a path of destiny for the Blues, it was a mastermind of managment by the 3rd re-incarnation of the special one. Arise Sir Roberto! He's not the special one...he's a very lucky boy! And now he's the greatest manager that lived not just to win the European Cup so quickly but to do so with a squad that back in March would be lucky to get close to the cups in the training ground cafeteria!

Had they lost he'd probably of become another Avram Grant and end up in Portsmouth awaitng the news they'd been docked more points for not paying anybody who works for them! Or he could turn into a Hiddink and travel the globe earning shed loads of foreign tax cash with avergage teams built on oil soaked money...sound familiar RDM?

Will Roman offer him the job? Would he even take it? Now that he's found his promise land ..what next?  He'll want to win the league, defend the cup and do it all playing an entertaining brand of footy which I fear neither squad or manager is up to.

In that case it might be a good time to cut and run? Drogba has the right idea on this one; leave a hero, head held high and with your wallet open.

A wave goodbye or I'll take £5 mil a year thanks!

So does this mean that a defensive, uncreative, long ball style can conquer Europe? If so then maybe there's hope for Roy this summer...er have you seen the squad!

Ok so it was all fairly predictable, yes I got a few wrong on my end but lack of enterprise is perhaps worse than a lack of surprises. The two best defences of the premier league belonged to City and United and yet Rio didn't get a gig (not a bad idea to be fair) and I wonder if Lescott will be sitting on the bench waiting for Terry to slip up...literally!

The middle is pretty much the same as we'd expect from what's on offer with the exception that Lennon is probably just unlucky that he's just a quick as a few others that perhaps can find the net or put in a decent ball, then again they picked Walcott?

Up front is where the issues are obvious, with Rooney out for the first 2 options were thin on the ground. Carroll probably deserves a crack at it, Welbeck has earned the right ahead of Sturridge, no idea what Defoe has done except score on the last game of the season...does Roy have a very short memory?

Surely the biggest injustice is poor old Micah Ricards? What does that man have to do to get another cap? Did he mysteriously slag off the FA on twitter before going radio silent or perhaps the powers that be know something we don't?

If the shirt fits then bloody well give it him!

Yes Kyle Walker would've got the nod if fit and Phil Jones is versatile if not a little overrated too. But Micah must be watching a tape of Liverpool's post-christmas matches and thinking he needs to both defend, bomb on, set up goals, be a menace at set pieces, keep goal and score bucket loads to even be considered!

Be just about right now that Glen Johnson has a blinding tournament and England do exceptionally well at the Euros...yeah and Chelsea will become the next Barcelona!

Goodnight sportsfans!

The greatest day of the greatest season!

Greetings armchair sportsfans!

Wow! As we celebrate 20 years of the premier league we witness probably the greatest final day which in itself epitomises probably the greatest season of all time.

Even football atheist were discussing the drama at the Etihad over the watercooler, swept away by the euphoria not seen since...well since forever!

Ironic that Mancini's men pulled off the kind of Fergie-time escape that we're so used to seeing from the red half of Manchester and the parralells between yesterday and the famous United escape to win the European cup in 1999 cannot be ignored.

We all thought they'd win and they did deserve too and despite their best attempts to give everyone on all sides of the football compass a massive cardiac arrest. After 90 minutes it seemed as though Mancini needed a defibrilator on the touchline and five minutes later he'd probably reaching for a sedative or two.

How can you not love moments like this is football?

People will crow that City have bought their first title in 44 years but all the Arabic care packages cannot buy you the spirit, determination and heart that was required in the last five minutes at the Etihad. You just cannot purchase that, it is taught and ingrained by the manager and means nothing without the players being on board.

It's the exact same quality that Ferguson himself has thrived and succeeded with for years and shows that winning a title isn't about quality on the pitch, its just as important to have the quality on the touchline and in the backroom too.

For United it was a season that they were never in the hunt, then the season they couldn't lose and eventually the one that they ended up second best, not a phrase in their vocabulary. As City parade in a sea of blue through the streets Fergie will be plotting his revenge, you can guaruntee it.

At the other of the league we say goodbye to Bolton and Owen Coyle who were unlucky to go down, not just with their points tally but also by the thuggery of the ref at the Britannia who seemed to believe football is rugby. Shame for Coyle as he's handled himself so well throughout the season and especially with the difficult time surrounding the Fabrice Muamba incident.

So QPR survive as do Villa, no thanks to either Joey Barton or Alex Mcleish. If every Rangers player on Sunday was tremendous, Barton was moronic! The man will never change and he can twitter all he wants it won't change the fact that he's basically a hooligan on the wrong side of the white line. Its no wonder both Man City and Newcastle saw fit to remove him from their squads, he's a walking liability.

Is it a pitch invader? Not its just Joey losing his rag!

Mcleish has finally got the boot today, an appointment that was about as popular as...um...Joey Barton?

I'm sure big 'eck will find a job soon enough, probably with any side that enjoys playing with the creative guile of...um...Joey Barton?

Steve Kean may be next for the chop, that is the Venky's could be bothered to actually do anything productive with the club?

So where to now after this amazing season?

The Euro's of course, not forgetting the Champions League final which will see Chelsea B team play away at Bayern. yes we all want them to win it for the good of English football but at present we can't see it happening.

As for the Euro's we wait with anticipation as to the look of Roy's cobbled squad, the main focal point being the forward options, or lack of? He'll take Rooney and Sturridge for sure, Defoe and A-bong-and-a-whore probably but which other lumbering big fella makes the grade? Crouch, Carroll, Holt...Zamora???

Hodgson's choice to lead the line at Euro 2012

Smart money is on Crouch, he's got the experience at that level even if he don't have a quality at that level. Whichever direction Roy turns it'll be nothing short of gripping even if they lose three straight games and send the players off on their summer holiday.

We'll support them to the hilt and get over excited if they do any good in wam up matches. Roy will be the messiah that we've all been waiting for!

For English football at any level is the very definition of drama, excitment, elation, devastation, agony and ecstasy all rolled into one.

Don't agree...just watch the events of Sunday 13th May, 2012.

Thank you and goodnight sportsfans!

Fergie gives Mancini the hairdryer...plus the title and Woy gets the job!

Greetings armchairsports fans!

Well it was billed as not just the biggest game of this season but the biggest game in the 20 years the premiership has existed. As such with these over hyped and billed encounters the game could've been played down the local park and still the most exiciting aspect would've been a dog running across the field.

You're always concerned when the most interesting aspect of 90 minutes was between the two chaps on the sideline doing sock-puppet impressions without the socks. Fergie pulled out his famous hairdryer treated against his opposite number and fair play the flowing grey headed one he gave as good as he got!

Quack, quack, quack!

Truth is all managers in almost every game will be bashing the poor fourth officials ear to a pulp, I'm sure that's why they rotate the referees...gives their ears time to recover. We all love a good touchline tussel between the suited or tracksuited gaffers its up there with a referee falling over or Arsene Wenger's post match analysis.

The season decider on Monday night wasn't decided on refereeing decsions that were or weren't given, nor did it decide the season itself. Fergie is undoubtably the most sucessful manager in the history of the premier league, but tactically he doesn't have the strength of others. Yes he's a great motivator and manager of players and excels at gaining the best out of troubled geniuses and erractic personalities. Nobody can dispute the number of talented and spirited teams he's assembled, the trophy cabinent is testament to that.

But unlike others, in big games (like Monday) he gets in wrong and then doesn't adapt quick enough. Guardiola out thought him in 2 seperate European finals, Mancini twice in the league this season and even 'the special one' had the wood over Fergie in his Chelsea days.

There's no need for me to go into it all, suffice to say they deserved to lose the game and perhaps the title too. Champions are determined over the course of the entire season and with both Manchester clubs on the same number or points, win, draws and losses you can even ignore the far superior goal difference. Look deeper; 4 matches between the two clubs, City dominated both league fixtures and despite United's two wins in cup competitions they were still out played in one half in both of those matches.

If you can honestly only say that you played better for 2 out of 8 halves then you don't deserve to win anything and they probably shouldn't...end of!

Enough of the top, let's look at the bottom. Wolves are already gone and logic would suggest that Blackburn despite Steve Kean's persistant optimism will follow suit. So who fills the last relegation slot? QPR's fixture list doesn't bode well with City away on the final day, Bolton need to get at least 4 points from their last 3 games to give themselves a chance. Wigan have taken 30 matches to realise they're the best team in the league and look fairly safe now.

Above all of this lot are Villa, probably the most drab team going at the moment which is no surprise given the man at the helm has as many creative thoughts as Emile Heskey (who funnily is still a key player too). McLeish was already an unpopular choice having crossed the midlands divide from Birmingham City last year, he'll be run out of town if Villa go down too.

Don't look down Eck!

Finally after an exhaustive (not really) search England have a new manager and it's Harry...Roy Hogdson?

Nothing like the FA to throw us all a curve ball from time to time is it. Old Woy has been round the block a few times and is at the very least a very honest operator who builds no fuss teams out of the resources he has...very English really.

Seeing as though everyone wanted an English manager anyway then I can't see what they're all so surprised about? Besides who bettter to take over a misfiring, rag tag bunch of internationals that nobody expects much out of this summer...perfect choice isn't it? Perhaps the FA figured they'd pick someone with a slight speech impediment so that the transition from Capello doesn't confuse the poor players.

'Roy...the job's yours!'

Whatever the reason the outcome is the same, 4 year deal and about a fortnight to work out a squad for the summer Euro's. Basically Woy's on a hiding to nothing, nobody expects England to do any good so in theory he can just pick a team and let them play...oh and Roy, that doesn't mean you can pick Zamora!

Till next time sportsfans!

Nagging the nags and refereeing the refs!

Greetings armchair sportsfans!

Well another bumper couple of weeks of Easter sports action has been and gone and many sports fans might have required the extra days off work and chocolate treats to ease their suffering.

All the phony religious mumbo jumbo and copious amounts of choclate eggs delivered by a mythical (if not slightly freaky bunny) will not save poor Terry Connor and Wolverhampton. Wanderers have taken their name to heart since Mick 'blimey' McCarthy got the book from the powers that be and probably deserve to spend a year in the championship to teach them a lesson or two. At present they're about as useful as a chocolate teapot.

'Flippin' heck TC we'll be rid of this turgid mob by season's end'

As it stands them might get a few lessons judging by the standard of play happening in the nations second tier at present. Reading a flying and cannot stop winning, Southhampton have a solid squad of players - both look certain to make the automatic promotion spot. Behind them lie West Ham who seem to have taught Big Sam that football is typically played on the ground these days.

So the Championship promotion race seems more or less sealed, but who along with Wolves will be taking the pay cut, shedding the pounds for the Weight watchers division. My gut (no pun intended) leads me to think that Steve Kean may have ridden the mid-season storm from the Blackburn fans but all the courage and fight means nothing without points.

Which leaves Bolton or QPR???

QPR can't keep 11 men on the pitch recently and despite some good results against some of the big boys I can't see Sparky Hughes or their January ringers saving them. Neil Warnock is perhaps already relishing the prospect of facing off against his former employees next year...that is if he's still at Leeds? Then again, he has so many former employees that he turns up against his old mob almost every weekend!

Seeing as its this time of the season where teams are fighting for titles, silverware, survival, promotion and European spots officialdom is under the spotlight more than ever. Decisions can mean the difference for clubs financially and players mentally. Part of football is the human element of error and the consequent banter between supports, managers, pundits and fans will forever feed the game itself.

More and more these days the odd mistake from the blind man/women in black is actually a complete shocker and calls for technological support grows louder with every blow of the whistle.
Fifa and now the PFA have put their two cents in on the matter and Martin Atkinson can apologise the Harry Redknapp but it won't give him any solace or even encourage the people in high places to take action.

'We've been joking about refs being blind for years...turns out it was true!

Maybe we're just all annoyed that the very two teams we wanted to see in the cup final aren't going to be there, we'll be back on the side of the referees come Wembley at season's end. The old adage is that decisions even themselves out over an enitre season but when it really matters at the business end that adage seems a flawed statement at best.

Aside from moaning about officials another great past time of this nation is the Grand National. Essentially a cluster fuck of horses that seem to run for an enternity with the added challenge of jumping a series of fences, and we're bonkers for it.

People who never watch a horse race for a year want to be on something with a funny name, a lucky number or colour. Oddly dressed bearded men that live in the bookmakers will keep whatever inner knowledge they percieve to have closely guarded to their chest. Eventually they'll all be wrong but when some long shot that had no hope gets up to win they'll be stroking their hirstue faces and telling you they should've seen it coming!

Basically the Grand Naional is like the Melbourne Cup, just not as good. Nearly twice as many nags on the track, over twice as long and with every fence the prospect that your hard earned cash will end up in a heap on the other side or perhaps refuse to jump the damn thing at all.

Another mare takes a fall at the National - think this one survived (just).

Of course the debate rages again about whether if the event itself is cruel on the horses, that when a horse breaks a leg why it cannot be saved, etc. Yes its not the nicest thing in the world to hear about but this has been happening since the Grand National was first run in 1839 and still the animal activists, vegetarians and greenies about the place won't leave it alone.

I suppose these soap avoiding, hemp wearing beatnicks are out in the wilderness lament every creature that passes quietly without the national's fanfare and coverage. Or are they actually sitting smugly at home with a bowl of tofu and shot of wheatgrass cursing the fact they bet on a nag called Greenwarrior or something that didn't even make it over the first.

The old adage in this case should be...'don't like it, don't watch it!'

So long sportsfans!

Humble heroes always defeat flawed geniuses!

Greetings armchairsports fans!

My apoligies for the delay in post these past few weeks, usual excuses...been busy, etc.

Bearing in mind that the events almost a fortnight ago at White Hart Lane served as a reminded to all sportsfans of the fragility of all things and thus an attempt at a light-hearted whimsical piece of prose didn't seem right at all.

Everything has already been said about Muamba in all media forms so it goes without saying that we all hope to see him back of the field of play in some capactiy down the line.

What was more remarkable about the ensuing days was the speed and grace at which the footballing community banded together. For so long in the past and in particular this season the headlines have read like the scenes for a soap opera.

Its especially amazing to see what can be achieved when football doesn't bicker with each other and just gets along.  Such was the 'din' at the Reebok last week from both sets of fans it what was also an excellent match of which Muamba would've been proud to have been a part of...albeit from his hospital bed.

Muamba tweets this picture of himself recovering...still smiling!

Whilst Muamba and his recovery has been in the forefront of everyones mind there has been a major sport (well sort of) ocurring on other continents that has somewhat been brushed off the back pages.

Formula 1's new season opened a fortnight ago with the Melbourne GP, followed by round 2 in Malaysia a week later. Yes I'm aware that not being on at a sensible hour means many miss the opening gambits of the 2012 season but there has been some interesting developments (even for a non-motorsporter like myself).

Great to see Kimi Raikkonen has pulled himself away from the Vodka luge, rallying and snow-mobile racing and decided to get paid millions to Vodka luge, snow-mobile race and drive F1's this year instead. Still worth it for his scintilating press conferences with excellent in depth analysis from the Finn.

'Are you ok to drive Kimi?'

McLaren seemed to have pulled their fingers out this year which poses a new conundrum for them and many of us...Button or Hamilton?

This got me thinking about how us as sportsfans determine who we want to win?

We all support through different subcategories; nationality (we want our country to win, or our golfer, tennis player, etc), territory (our local team, local player, etc) generational (we grew up following/supporting) and finally of course by choice.

When these categories either don't exist for us during a sporting event we lean towards the team/player/person,etc that we prefer on a personal level. In a way we judge them based not on their abilities but rather their personality and charcter traits.

Back to the orginal arguement of Button v. Hamilton, both talented drivers, both British, both driving for a British team, what difference? Jenson Button probably isn't a saint, but against Hamilton he's just a nicer chap. Doesn't get stroppy with camermen and reporters, isn't complaining about the car, the team...just getting on with it.

He's humble and that's why we like him.

Messi v. Ronaldo - two players on top of their game, playing in same league for two of the worlds greatest clubs. Yet Messi is by far and away more popular because he doesn't carry on about it, winking at cameras, doing fasion shoots and castrol commercials.

Like chalk and cheese really isn't it?

Warne v Muralitharan - test crickets greatest wicket takers any well...I think you can work that one out for yourselves really. 

Wherever you look both recently and in the annuls of sport these comparisons between greats appear and yet we always side with one, everyone does.

Ineveitably you'd rather have a quiet beer with Button, Messi and Muralitharan but if you're wanting a all night bender then Hamilton, Ronaldo and Warne are your type.

Call me old fashioned but I rather fancy a quiet one?

AVB gets his P45

G'day armchairsports fans!

This blog comes to you live from Australia where in sunny...no wait, rainy...no, windy Melbourne has greeted me with a plethora of sport...or not.

I'd hoped to bring you news of a vast array of sporting events from the colony but for a country and indeed a city where sporting contest is a religion I'm finding it rather atheist at this point in time.

Perhaps its my fault for visiting during the few so-called dry patches on the sporting calender. March is tradionally the transition between summer and winter sports whereby the cricket, golf and tennis is done and dusted and the rugby league/union and AFL isn't yet into full swing.

In saying that though both cricket and footy is still being played and the confused expressions on the locals faces tells a story.

By all accounts the current one-day series which reaches its climax later today between Australia and Sri Lanka has been one to remember.

Tight matches, brilliant individual and team efforts to boot. So it bloody well should...it stretches over 15 matches!  If you hadn't had any good cricket in that amount you'd be worried.

For many the highlight has been the performance of the touring Sri Lankan side. The talented, plucky and hungry underdog has showed us all what it means to play a game for the love of it and your country (are you listening Kevin Pietersen).

Add to that they are playing for no wages as the governing cricket body can't afford to pay them a penny. If they win this evening then the prize money will be shared amongst every member of the squad, playing or not, even those whom went home due to injury. Bravo!

Brett Lee laments betting his match fee against the Sri Lankans

I had hoped to bring you football (or soccer as its so wrongly referred to here) news this time around.

However after almost a week here the only real event has been feeling tha the A-league is heading the wrong direction with poor crowds and even poorer standard games. So the least said about it the better really.

Besides it is hard to ignore the major football story that broke on Sunday, the demise of the 'not-so-special one mkII.

You can't but feel sorry for AVB at this moment in time, he really didn't have a snow flakes chance in hell for the moment he walked into Stamford Bridge.

His arrival came with the vision of a dynamic and vibrant young manager willing to change the style of play and attitude of the English game. Unfortunately he didn't have a squad full of Messi's - rather just a big mess!

Chelsea never had the players to formulate a slick 4-3-3 attacking passing side and yet AVB pressed on with his remit, perhaps because he knew no other way or indeed was directed as such by Tsar Abramovich.

The outcome was always going to be the same. Ageing squad of players, big egos, demanding fans and an even more demanding top office. After a string of poor results and more importantly a likely exit from the Champions league had seen the Gulag warden cleaning and readying his Kalashnikov.

AVB is not totally blameless. Many armchair sportsfans has seen his tactics falter against sides who'd simply been disicplined and canny enough to expose the weaknesses of this Chelsea side.

From here AVB can get the perfect view of his high defensive line

It will be interesing to see how Matteo deploys his team and tactics this weekend against Stoke.

You'd hope he'll be able to run the side without any pressure from above. Given that he is only a stop gap until the next poor sod has a wad of oil-stained roubles waved under his nose.

Who'd want a job that doesn't secure you even with a near 70% win ratio? Grant, Scolari, Ancelotti, et al all had above 60% win rates and some even delivered silverware and league titles.

Clearly the Tsar is obsessed with the Champions League more than ever before and therefore only a winning European cup manager will do. As such options are slim at best.

All of Chelsea wants Jose to return but with Real Madrid leading La Liga and still in the Champions League perhaps it's not so simple? Maybe if he beats Barcelona in the final...then the door will open.

Some had said Rafa has thrown his hat in the ring, merely in the hope he can get Nando to remember he's worth 50mil and not 50p.

Pep Guardiola has also been touted as the man to save the day. Who'd be crazy to leave the Nou Camp during this dynasty of players? They've just routed last years German runners-up 10-2 on aggregate, Messi scores 5!

Perhaps tearing apart teams does get a bit dull after a while, he certainly wouldn't have the problem at Chelsea.

Pep displaying his job satisfaction level at Barcelona

Does this look like a man who'd swap Messi for a mess?

No doubt somebody will, the Chelsea kit man is already sewing a great big target on the back of a tailored Armani suit.

Hooroo sportsfans!

The Kop over floweth!

Greetings Armchair sportsfans!

Well the first silverware of the season has been won and we ask ourselves...who gives a monkeys?

The Koppites will argue that a trophy of any kind is reason to celebrate and in fairness they are right. There's nothing like polishing your rivals face with a shiny new ornament even if the gloss of a Carling Cup isn't as high as say a European one.

For new arrivals Downing, Carroll, Adam and Henderson this is the first taste of success and one which they probably would never had received at the former employees and definately not at international level. So we won't begrudge them this small mercy.

Yes the Carling Cup is more of a forth place medal these days but ask Wenger or AVB if they would've like to be on the Wembley steps yesterday and you'd lost a hand immediately.

In the context of the match itself Liverpool probably deserved to win. Much has been spoken of the guts and determination displayed by Mackay's Bluebirds but all the heart in the world means nothing if you can't score from 12 yards.

Despite the fact the game came down to a few inches eitherside of a post in the eventual shootout even the most ardent neutral felt sympathy for Gerrard...the not so famous one that is. Missing the vital spot kick is one thing but then being the cousin of the captain of the other mob, watching him lift the cup, gutting!

Perhaps he might find comfort in knowing Stevie G was also denied in the shootout...or at least until he recieves a moon pig card reminding him of it on his birthday.

'See you at Christmas cus'

Most disappointing was the fact that we all wanted Cardiff to win and those who didn't are either fibbers, scousers or morons. Or perhaps all of the above. We all love the underdog story, more so in Blighty than anywhere else. Every errant Liverpool kick was greeted with cheers of delight and Charlie Adam's with laughter.

Even the most ardent of Englishman with St. George tattoed across his chest and a BNP badge on their lapel (tracksuit) was willing the Welsh mob on in the hope of a fairytale ending. Instead we have to endure the gloating and self-gratification of Meyerside reds for just a little while.

Or worst we have to look at the smug look on King Kenny's face...for at least a week anyway?

Kenny hiding his delight wonderfully

We can only hope that Arsenal can repeat their performance in the North London derby yesterday at Anfield on Saturday. However, Arsenal being Arsenal they'll most likely revert to a bunch of over passing Nou Camp wannabes and lose in a mist of Wenger hissy fits.

Like Daglish, Wenger is also free to bask in the reflective glow of a performance that seldom comes around, not least in a derby game. It is one thing to have RVP wallop lesser sides single-handedly and altogether another to come from 2 down against a top side playing the style of football Wenger has strived for years to achieve.

You could almost feel something stirring under the Professors duffle coat with every sweeping move and crisp finish. Even if 'he didn't see it', no doubt he would've felt it.

'Sacre bleu, the coat does hide it well'

The balance of power in North London is probably very much in Spurs favour and they'll probably end up 3rd by seasons end so joy at the emirates will probably be short lived.

Truth is that Spurs deserve to finish third and if by some miracle Arsenal, Chelsea or Liverpool manage to overhaul them it'd be a product of the lilywhites own undoing.

Given the current performaces of English teams in top European competition then Tottenham could do no worse than be thrown into the mix.

Over the next 2 weeks the Armchair sportsman will be blogging from a land down under, where football rules and the ball is oval. Apologies for the truly shocking music parody.

See you on the other side of the globe armchair sportsfans!

You! Me! Press conference! Now!

Greetings Armchair sportsfans!

Last week in this blog we discussed how some of our modern day football players neglect to see how their lack of respect for the game, fans, fellow professionals and general social standards has led to the deteriation of game itself.

All of this leads to thinking that the theory of sportsmanship and/or elite sports people as rolemodels? I've never subscribed to the theory that people should look up to any athlete as their personal life coaches but the problem is that people do.

We all love to worship our heroes, to be inspiried by great feats of individual achievement and marvel at the unity of team spirit and commitment. The problem is all these admirable attributes happen on the field of play whereas outside of the sporting arena things change...usually for the worse.

Yes the modern media scrutinises our sporting world more than ever but if you're talented in your particular field then the trade off is that your actions off it will also be scrutinised. This is not a new phenomenon and yet this week has showed more ineptitude by so-called sportsmen (and I use the term very loosly).

Let's talk Tevez shall we. On Monday he claimed Mancini and City themselves had 'treated him like a dog'...how very perceptive and accurate of him. Rightly-bloody-so too as the comparisons between the two are uncanny.

If a dog craps inside his owners house, the owner will not just leave it festering on the floor. The dog will be punished, taught a lesson, chased out of the house by the infuriated owner and left to reflect on his wrong-doing.

'Sit Carlos...sit! Good boy'

Unfortunately for big clubs with big budgets that 'doggy-in-the-window' was too much for many to stump up for. Or perhaps it was the fact that after crapping on United's lawn and then repeating the feat on the neighbours this old dog can't just learn new tricks...he can't even take one.

Luckily for Senor Tevez he was overshadowed by the fight early Sunday morning in Munich, not a world title but more 'the biggest loser'.

Boxing was once an event that was watched by millions of people at times taking on the blue ribbon stature similar to say the men's 100m olympic final would. Nowadays a big fight commands only an additional fee on your cable subscription and the desire to stay up through interminable undercard bouts to witness a 2 or 3 round one-sided flop.

You can see why the general public has lost its faith in boxing. The pugalist of today seems more interested in how much purse they can generate from a fight rather than proving their ability against their opponent. This farcical side of boxing seems to be a western creation and perhaps its capitalism to blame instead?

Whatever the reason, the exploits of Messers Chisora and Haye on Sunday left us in no doubt that boxing and brain injury are inherently linked. The noble sport of boxing can do without these ill-mannered brutes and their entourage of burly gents in poorly tailored suits and gawdy tracksuits.

To be frank its like watching WWE wrestling with less personality. The scenes from Sunday could've easy been a throw back to the halcyon days of Hulk Hogan v Vince McMachon. Bottles and camera tripods...drop a cage over them and let 'em brain each even more senseless.

Haye and Chisora square up in Munich

Ok so the boxing greats of the past have had some public dust ups and banter to rival the best of them but times have changed.

You don't see the Klitschko brothers complaining about prizemoney, injuries or respect. Instead they concentrate training, technique and discipline and their reward is title belts around their waist.

Haye and Chisora get their stupid mugs all over the tabliods.

Perhaps we can go this week without someone making a twat of themselves???

Farewell sportsfans!

Harry Redknapp and the Poisoned Chalice

Greetings Armchair Sportsfans!

In the footballing world uncertainity, drama and beauty are a quintessential part of what makes the game so adored across the globe.

In English football these qualities are often left behind in the wake of inevitablity, stupidity and uglyness.

With it being the year of a major international tournament its was only a matter of time before England self-imploded. Normally they wait until the tournament has begun on a wave of expectation which is neither merited nor deserved, this time the FA and Fabio Capello did the job normally reserved for the players themselves.

Let's be honest here and by honest I mean completely biased and self-opininated. Despite his high win percentage record Capello has been an expensive experiment from the FA which has left everyone none the wiser in regards to which direction the national game is heading.

The FA appointed Capello with the view that he was a master tactician, a manager or men, someone able to control the various personalities within the squad. What the FA ended up with was a manager unable to adapt to the changing modern game or english language and eventually who couldn't wait to hit the eject button and jettison as far from Wembley as possible...on his own FA funded private jet no doubt?

Capello says his farewell to the FA

Opinion all around dictates that whoever replaces Capello in the job should be English...a sure fire plan that's worked before right?

Yes Harry Redknapp is the obvious choice to drink from the poison chalice. However the obvious choice is not always the correct one, just ask Keegan, Hoddle and that bloke with the brolly!

'Arry could do no wrong last week as the planets and stars all aligned at once. Reports suggested that the loos at Southwark Crown Court were blocked with nuggets of gold.

Midas touch 'Arry might just be worth a crack but not at the expense of his managerial reputation which as we know with an England side...will.

Spurs would be mad not to put up a huge fight to keep their man and 'Arry must think is it worth swapping his shiny golden squad for England...a turd that cannot be polished!

Oh lord...why me?

So who does that leave us with? The FA has stated they have a shortlist of candidates, which is FA speak for 'after Redknapp we haven't a fucking clue?'

Pardew, O'Neill, Curbishley, Mourino, Hiddink, Pearce??? Whoever the FA end up lumping with must at least be given the time to rebuild not only the team itself but also be able to dispose the inherit thoughts that England are better than they really are...toughest job in the world!

Capello's downfall came to numerous events over his troubled tenure but it was the uglyness of one topic which nailed his coffin shut, a topic which won't go away...racism.

Luis Suarez is a quality footballer, nobody is denying him that. But as a living, breathing human Suarez seems to have dived and writhed his way out of the shallow end of the gene pool.

Few can truly understand the pressures faced by any sports person at the elite level and thus we will often allow for some level of forgivness when they cross the lines of sportsmanship, morality, dignity and stupidity (often all at the same time).

However, we all have limits. Unfortuantely for the Uruguayan many of us followers have seen all we need to see. Remember this is a man with priors; deliberate handball in the World cup, multiple middle finger salutes and racsim. Oh and of course he bit another player...'lovely lad' as Kenny might say.

Sadly this isn't the worst aspect of Suarez's behaviour. Forget his history, the eight match ban, Ronaldo-esq acting, etc. Simply put the lad had the chance to repay his managers, team mates and clubs support by doing his sportsmanlike duty to make things right. But being Luis Suarez...he handled it with the same grace as he does when tackled fairly.

You're off my Christmas card list good sir!

Football will always have aspects that will upset and disappoint, cause anger and frustration. More often than not though it will bring us joy, elation, hope and importantly...perspective.

For this we thank Zambia today. After the week that has passed it felt as though the footballing gods had conspired against us. Only for the twinkling of fate Zambia uplifted us all and with their coach Herve Renard (the most beautiful man in the cosmos) to remind us all of the spirit of the game.

You can't help but smile at a team of players paid less than many of their illustrious opponents, in the same country of the tragic air crash of 1993 and coached by a man wearing jeans and an ill fitted open buttoned shirt.

What do you mean no denim?

With the will of a nation and the unity of the players it served as a timely reminded of how important attributes such as courage and heart can have within all fields of play.

Are you watching David Bernstein?

Goodnight sportsfans!