Santa's It's Not Called Soccer Sack

I’m feeling generous this week, so I’m going to treat you to a few footballing gifts for you to tinkle through at your leisure. I’m going to show you a selection box of great goals, ridiculous gaffs and some truly sublime imagery from the lower reaches of European football. Merry Christmas!

Let’s start off by offering you what I believe to be one of the greatest goals ever scored. There’s something to be said to rifling one in from thirty yards or an overhead kick from the penalty spot, but to be honest they’re as much good fortune as anything else; a player just happens to get it right that one time out of twenty. This goal by Argentina, however, is one for the football purists. It’s Mozart, it’s Di Vinci, it’s Shakespeare… it’s sublime.

Gift One

I like a crunching 50/50 as much as the next man and few things give me as much pleasure as a really tough well timed tackle (it’s a shame nobody had a camera at Edgeley Park for a Man City v Stockport friendly back in 96 when Fitzroy Simpson took not one but two Stockport players over the advertising hoards with a well timed beauty). That said, I would have to stop short of this little number which put simply is tantamount to aggravated assault.

Gift Two

Now, I know I said that I prefer a silky smooth goal to one that includes one players piece of trickery skulduggery, but this next one is a pleasure to behold. The skilful chappy must leave the ground whilst the ball is a good twenty yards away. He then finishes what will be the goal… no, the moment of his entire life. Check this out.

Gift Three

Ah, this next one takes me back. Now you’ll have all seen this before, no doubt countless times, but it’s worth watching again. It’s not the incredible scorpion kick that Colombia’s Rene Higuita performs that still amazes me to this day. It’s the bare faced cheek of him doing it right in front of his own goal. If he gets this wrong by a millimetre it’s a goal. Obviously as we all now know, he doesn’t get it wrong at all. He get’s it very very right.

Gift Four

We’ve all remember Ronnie Rosenthal’s ludicrous miss against Aston Villa back in ’92 (see here - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kiVq5-u7MH0), but even poor old Ronnie would have bagged this one. Step forward Croatian midfielder Ilija Sivonjic. You’ve got to feel sorry for the lad and it clearly gets stuck under his foot, but nevertheless he actually appears to stop it going in. Absolute nightmare, the lad.

Gift Five

I like this one. It’s Barcelona versus Lyon and for some reason goalkeeper, Gregory Coupet feels it’s better to risk heading into his own goal rather making a clean save but giving away a free kick. The logic is questionable but the result is something truly amazing. David James recently said that this was the best save he’s ever seen. High praise indeed.

Gift Six

Finally, a website. I don’t get the chance anymore to roll around in the mud on a Sunday morning, playing against fat, round-bellied, alcoholics who only play football for the booze up afterwards. I miss it. This site showcases some truly amazing imagery from the lower depths of football – the amateur ranks. You can practically taste the half time oranges.

Gift Seven

That only leaves me to wish you all a very Happy Christmas and a ridiculously Merry New Year!

The Premier League's Nearly Men

Manchester City, Aston Villa, Tottenham Hotspur and Everton. These were the teams. The ones that would displace the so-called Big Four. Spurs had improved dramatically under the shrewd tutelage of old Saggy-Face Redknapp, Aston Villa had come so close to displacing Arsenal last year before falling away as a long, tough season took its toll, Manchester City had been lavished with fancy new kits, a canny marketing team and of course over £100m worth of talent and Everton, managed by the highly rated David Moyes, had finished fifth for the last two seasons. With United weakened by the loss of two key players, Chelsea facing a transfer ban, Arsenal being the perennial underachievers and Liverpool being the poster club for inconsistency and in-fighting, the opportunity was there for the taking.

As December, and the busy Christmas period, approaches, let’s take stock of these nearly-men and rate their chances of pushing on and securing the all important Champions League spot.

But before we do that, let’s quickly familiarise ourselves with the titans of the much lauded Big Four. Well, for Manchester United and Chelsea it seems to be business as usual. I rather think Chelsea have got slightly more about them, but you can never rule out Ferguson and United and I’m sure come the end of the season there won’t be much distance between these two clubs. Arsenal are a club like no other; at times so brilliant as to make even their most hardened enemies applaud their attractive brand of football, but cursed with an uncanny ability to forget themselves all too often and capitulate to lesser opposition. And that leaves Liverpool… well, I’ve already written about the boys from Anfield, but suffice to say they’re in for a tough season and it is likely that it is their spot in the Big Four that the nearly-men will covet the most.

This brings us rather neatly to those aforementioned flirters with success… the not-so-big four of City, Villa, Spurs and Everton.

Manchester City

After six consecutive draws, the season has become somewhat of a damp squib for the blue half of Manchester. It’s easy for the optimists to wheel out the, ‘But we’ve lost less games than anyone this season.’ Ultimately though it means nothing as it’s clear that City would be three points better off having won three and lost three of those last six outings, against, let’s be honest here, some mediocre opposition. Nevertheless, you sense that City are still on a learning curve. There are flashes of brilliance that make you think that just maybe they can become the real deal. It’s just a shame that all too often the brilliance quickly subsides and all that City are left with is untidy defending and a confused midfield. Prediction: 6th

Aston Villa

There is something to admire about Aston Villa and Martin O’Neill. Not blessed with the riches of Manchester City, and to a lesser-extent Spurs, O’Neill has had to be tremendously shrewd in the transfer market and has had to rely on players that other managers perhaps would have baulked at. And yet, they’re poised once again to finish top six and really take a crack at the Big Four. O’Neill has the knack of turning fairly ordinary players (step forward Richard Dunne, Nigel Reo-Coker, John Carew, et al.) into an extremely capable team. The main problem that O’Neill will once again face is the depth, or rather lack of, in a squad that as the season wears on may well look sparse and patchy. That said, if he can keep his main men fit… who knows? Prediction: 7th

Tottenham Hotspur

People were already taking notice of the boys from White Hart Lane this year, but if there were any doubts that Tottenham were the real deal, then surely they must have been eradicated after their 9-1 thumping of schizophrenic Wigan Athletic. Right? Well, not for me. I still have doubts about the staying power of Spurs. I’ve watched them quite a bit this year and, in all honesty, haven’t been bowled over. Too many times they lose position in important areas and their midfield ball keeping seems to be, at best, sporadic. What they do have is points on the board. Currently sitting fourth and just coming off that monster win, they will be feeling invincible. But, as with Villa, do they really have the strength in depth to sustain a solid push for that fourth spot? I think not. Prediction: 5th

Everton

Not a good week to be a Toffee, eh? Going down to Hull and then being told that you’re doomed to spending even more time at one of the worst grounds in top flight football. Everton are currently sitting 14th and only four points out of the relegation zone – not a place many expected them to be. To me, Moyes is looking increasingly frustrated with his lot. Everton simply don’t have the financial clout to break into the top four and that will always be the case whilst Bill Kenwright is in charge of the club. He’s a Dave Whelan, a Phil Gartside, a Doug Ellis – they all mean well and probably love their respective clubs much more than their Arabian, Russian and American counterparts but in the big scheme of things what does that matter? A great manager, and I believe that’s what Moyes is, can only take you so far with limited funds and Everton don’t seem to have much more to give. I don’t think Kenwright would ever push the manager out of the club, but if Everton continue the season the way they have started, Moyes may well jump. However, I believe that Moyes will turn things around and he will get his club back on track, though I think it’s too late now to expect a realistic pop at the Big Four. Prediction: 8th

So what does that mean? Who will finish fourth? Well, Liverpool have been woeful this year. Even on paper their squad looks ordinary and on the pitch they’ve done very little to suggest that they belong in the Champions League. Yet they’re currently laying seventh only five points of the top four, with a lot of football still to be played. They are a big club who know how to win and rule them out at your peril. My prediction is that the Big Four aren’t ready to hand over the reigns to the new boys just yet. Liverpool will get it right sooner or later and I just can’t see City, Spurs, Villa or Everton keeping up when they do.

When Irish eyes aren't smiling

It was hard not to feel saddened for Ireland’s tireless heroes tonight as they went down to France, in their World Cup 2010 qualifying match, in the most controversial of circumstances. Deep into the first half of extra time, a long pass was put over the top of the Irish defence. Thierry Henry clearly handled the ball before squaring for William Gallas, who bundled it in. You could practically here tirty tree hundred tousand (sic) Irish hearts breaking.

When the dust settles tomorrow, you can guarantee there will be many people baying for blood. Some will want Thierry Henry, the perpetrator of this most heinous crime, brought up on criminal charges. Some will want referee, Martin Hansson, hung, drawn and quartered for all to see in the middle of Mountjoy Square, Dublin. Others will point the finger at the sneaky Powers That Be and their hidden French-loving agendas. And some will undoubtedly blame Gordon Brown. I’m always one for a good conspiracy theory, but let’s keep a little perspective.

Firstly, Thierry Henry. He might be the most hated man in Ireland tonight, but I can guarantee he’ll be the most loved man in France. It appears he cheated and whilst you can argue it goes against the spirit of the game, few fans wouldn’t sacrifice that same spirit to get their own team into the World Cup finals. Let’s be absolutely clear that if England had been in that position and it had been Wayne Rooney handling the ball, we wouldn’t be so quick to demand justice.

Next there is Martin Hansson. When viewing the incident from most vantage points it looks blatant. When slowed down on sixteen different cameras, it looks positively scandalous. However, we don’t have the exact line of sight that Hansson had and we don’t know exactly where he was looking when Henry picked the ball up and ran with it. I’m not a big fan of heaping blame on to referees. It’s a thankless task and apart from a few egotistical penises, like Jeff Winter and Graham Poll, they do a good job and ultimately have fairness at heart. If Hansson was a cheat he’d have taken the opportunity earlier in the half to award Nicolas Anelka a penalty after he fell over the arm of Shay Given. It wasn’t penalty, but I’ve certainly seen them given.

And finally that brings us to the Powers That Be – I’m going to let Gordon Brown off the hook this once. There will be cries that the FIFA, UEFA, the French Foreign Legion, the KGB and NASA all had a hand in this game, demanding that world football powerhouse, France, be awarded a place in the World Cup Finals, no matter what. The upper echelons of football is no doubt a smorgasbord of corruption, greed and self-service, but to accuse them of having a hand in the game would be to again accuse Referee Hansson of being part of the conspiracy, which I refuse to believe. If Platini and Blatter had been running the lines in the match, then maybe, but they weren’t and unfortunately the conspiracy theory rarely holds up in a match as full of incidents as this one was. Hansson, aside from the obvious howler, didn’t have such a bad game and I’m sure most Irish fans would have agreed, just after he’d waved away the French supporters protests for a penalty.

But heads need to roll. Someone needs to be held accountable. We want… no… we need blood. Well, maybe we can still turn this around so that the Powers That Be can be responsible - after all it is there unwillingness to consider video technology, that has brought us to this spot, is it not? If the referee had consulted his fourth official, who was able to see what we all did, then it wouldn’t have taken long for him to award Ireland a free kick and the game to continue. But he didn’t even have that option and, when something as important as a World Cup place is on the line, that is truly criminal.

Many say that video technology would slow the game down and some even melodramatically suggest that video technology could be the death of football. Okay, steady on. I understand those concerns, especially when I watch rugby league now and the match official goes to the video ref for a clear cut try, simply to cover his own arse. It has gotten ridiculous in rugby, but that doesn’t mean football is resigned to go the same way. We can learn from their mistakes and implement a system that is swift, inconspicuous and decisive. I’m not being so brash as to suggest video technology referral for every small decision in the game, but when a whole country’s football fate lies in one highly debatable decision, what is the harm in stepping back, taking another look and then ruling. It might take some flow from the game, but surely that is a small price to pay for the right and just outcome.

The fact that the incident should bring the debate about video technology back to the table will be little consolation to Eire fans everywhere. Tonight, they were indeed robbed, but it is now up to FIFA, with the World Cup 2010 just around the corner, to make sure that the most important sporting tournament in the world isn’t decided in a similar way.

Is there anything worse?

Is there anything worse than looking up the fixture list of your club, having forgotten who they were facing that weekend, only to find that England are playing in a friendly and thus you will have to wait another full week to see your beloveds do battle? I hate England friendlies. In fact, I hate England games altogether, unless they’re part of a major tournament. That’s right I’m a part time supporter, a day tripper, an international glory hunter.

Nothing bores me more than tuning in to watch a soulless England side narrowly beat a lesser footballing nation with all the flair of a salad, and not even a good salad with meat in, like a Chicken Caesar or a nice Thai Beef concoction. See… it happened again. The minute I mention England’s friendlies I veer off onto other subjects, such is my complete lack of interest.

I appreciate that we can’t just turn up in South Africa with a bunch of fellas who don’t know each other and expect to take home the World Cup, but surely there’s a better way. It’s not like they need the football or fitness – they’d have been playing for their club teams that weekend anyway. No, what they need are simple fortnightly get togethers, much like they do in the corporate world, where they can chat, bond, maybe play some cards and generally get to know one another.

Typically selflessly, I’ve produced a list of ‘England Evenings’ that Fabio Capello could host for the team instead of making us endure these interrupting and highly annoying friendlies.

Bowling

If ten pin bowling doesn’t promote a sense of cohesion, I’m not sure what will. Imagine the lads trying their best to knock down the pins, in between trips to the food stand to refill their cokes (for free, if they visit the right alley). Imagine the friendly banter when David James pulls on his funny blue and red clown shoes. Imagine the gentle ribbing when Aaron Lennon attempts to use a 12 pound ball that’s clearly too heavy for him. It’s fun, it’s sporty and if you keep your Tesco receipt you can sometimes get two games for the price of one.

Moonlight BBQ

The English winter is on its way but that shouldn’t stop Mister Capello. There’s nothing better than wrapping up in a ‘three lions’ hat, scarf and gloves and chomping down a pig sandwich. Of course, being this time of year, you could throw in some festive activities too; Secret Santa, a special Christmas Quiz, and of course, carol singing. Is it only me who thinks that John Terry and Steven Gerrard, hand in hand, harmonising ‘Silent Night’, whilst Mister Capello accompanies them on his cello, is a heart-warming thought?

Night in with X Factor

The lads could play for their clubs on the Saturday and then make their way to Mister Capello’s house for a night of toe-nail painting and X factor. Rumour has it that Mister Capello has a big 48” inch plasma screen TV and a brand new popcorn maker. It all sounds peachy, but they’d have to be careful it doesn’t descend into name calling, as Ashley Cole and Emile Heskey see who can vote the most. Rumour also has it that Heskey is a big Jedward fan.

Bungee Jumping

Sure there are horror stories about the rope snapping, people legs being yanked from their bodies and heads being bitten off by clever, patient crocodiles, but at least we could separate the men from the boys. If you don’t jump, you forfeit your ticket to South Africa – helps with selection problems too, you see. I’ve got a fiver that says Robert Green bottles it.

Subbuteo Tournament

Each player picks a team who is entered into next year’s World Cup Finals and they represent them with pride and courage in this finger-flicking classic game. Has the added bonus of throwing up some genuine surprises – just imagine James Milner’s New Zealand making the final against Gareth Barry’s Honduras. Of course, the game would have to be properly supervised by Mister Capello, as it has been known to cause tantrums in even the most level headed people. I mean, what would it do for the world game if Wayne Rooney squashed Cameroon’s Souleymanou Hamidou, just because he was judged to have had four flicks instead of three?

The Scottish Conundrum

As a fan of English football the question of whether the old firm pairing of Rangers and Celtic should be allowed to enter the Premier League is becoming tedious.  It's a debate that has been raging for as long as I can remember and, occasional lip service from pundits and officials aside, nobody seems to be adding anything new to the issue.  I'd like to clear things up once and for all (and, yes, I'd like to think my opinion does carry that much weight)...  Rangers and Celtic are based in Glasgow.  Glasgow, Scotland, not Glasgow, England.  There isn't even a Glasgow, England, as far as I'm aware.  If that isn't a good enough reason not to allow them entry into the English Premier League then I really don't know what is.

Yes, I can hear you all now screaming at your computer screens, 'But what about Swansea, Cardiff and Wrexham?', as if Newport County, Merthyr Tydfil and Colwyn Bay never existed.  Well, Swansea, Cardiff, Wrexham and Newport all joined the English system in early 1920's when, as I'm sure you can imagine, things were a bit different - there was certainly no Setanta in those days - and Merthyr Tydfil and Colwyn Bay both paid their dues in the lowest of the lowest Welsh divisions before being allowed in the lowest of the lowest English divisions.  Are Celtic and Rangers willing to spend a few years playing against the likes of Bamber Bridge, Otten Albion and Leigh Genesis (I believe Phil Collins is a fan... titter) in order to gain passage into the upper echelons of English football?  I highly doubt it.

Let's for arguments sake say that the two Glaswegian outfits are allowed to jump ship for the more profitable and entertaining English Premier League... who misses out?  Does the Premier League, as has been suggested on numerous occasions recently, become a two tier system?  If so, who loses their Premier League priviliges?  As it stands now, that might include Bolton, West Ham, Fulham and Everton... I'm sure there fans would be happy.  Or do we simply incorporate Glasgow's finest at the expense of two of the Championship promotion places?  West Brom, Newcastle and Middlesboro might miss out and the Championship would be cheapened, possibly beyond repair, but what the hell, Celtic and Rangers bring with them vast followings and untold riches.

The extra exposure up North and the cold hard cash that would follow is the one thing that might turn the FA's head.  We all know they're a sucker for a shiny pound coin and if they think that the Glasgow teams can add something substantial to their coffers, then maybe, just maybe, things might get passed the procrastination stage.  However, the English Premier League is already a sporting giant in a stratosphere of its very own.  It is affluent, glamorous, exciting and the envy of nations around the globe.  My point is, if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

I'm a fair man though.  I'm willing to admit that there are a hundred reasons for these two proud Scottish clubs entry in the Premier League.  The catch is that all of them seem to favour the clubs rather than the league.  Celtic and Rangers, tired of deciding the league during four annual old firm derbies, would relish the challenge.  They would want to test their mettle against some of Europe's finest on a weekly basis and they would enjoy any success that affirms their tireless groans that the Scottish League isn't/wasn't the Peter Andre of European football.

From an English Premier League fan's point of view, I've got to pose the question, what's in it for me?  I'm happy with the way things are right now and whilst people might suggest that Celtic and Rangers have the ability and clout to ruffle the feathers of the Big Four (or Five if you include Man City, or Four if you include City but take out Liverpool, or Seven if you include City, Liverpool, Spurs and Villa... etc.), I would suggest that's utter manure.  They can raise there game once in a while during a European campaign, sure, but over the course of a season I would argue that they would both struggle to finish top half of the current table.

It's not in a name...

Mike Ashley appears to have overstepped a mark this time. The rotund and hapless Newcastle chairman has ridden the tackles of dire on-field performances, a seemingly endless managerial merry go round and a public auction for a club that only attracted day trippers, mad men and shysters, but he’s gone too far this time, say the Newcastle United fans.

To be fair to Newcastle fans they’ve never liked him and with good reason. Mike Ashley is a football disaster zone and has been ever since he waddled into St James Park, kissing the badge on his stretched barcode shirt. But he’s still there, mind you. He’s still trying to mend bridges with the Geordie fans who have seen their beloved team fall from English football’s top tier like a week old sparrow being pushed from the nest by a cruel but well-meaning mother. With that simile in mind, Ashley’s recent plan to rename and brand St James’ Park is like the sparrow’s mother surveying the bloodied carcass of her offspring before pooping on it from a great height.

Where will it all end? What next, now Newcastle’s spiritual home has been renamed ‘sportsdirect.com @ St James' Park Stadium’? Change the kit? How about a nice yellow and cream striped number? Oh… wait a minute…

We can, and will, laugh and poke fun at our Geordie counterparts but in all seriousness I sympathise with Ashley. There’s little doubt that he’s made some horrendous decisions during his tenure but he never set out to screw Newcastle United. In fact common sense tells us that by doing that he’d only be screwing himself. The fact the club are now off the market and it seems Ashley is going nowhere must suggest that he wants to forget a regrettable first two and a half years in charge and move the club onward and upward. Regaining their place in the Premier League will be step one of his plan, but I’m sure he’s also looking for a more long term strategy, that includes cementing their place in the top flight and eventually challenging for trophies. Easier said than done indeed, but the one thing we can all agree on is that it will be expensive. Any club who thinks they can sustain a Premier League spot by mere will power alone are certifiably delusional. And this is where sponsorship is absolutely crucial.

Newcastle United, despite the bleating of their fans, aren’t a top club anymore. You can’t really be a top club, in my eyes, if you’re not in the top division. This comes at a price and the amount sponsors are willing to pay to be associated with your club becomes diluted. So what do you do? Well, you try to find more sponsors, and then you offer those sponsors something different so they give you more bags of cash. It’s not molecular physics, people. As Arsenal, Bolton and several other clubs have found out an excellent source of revenue can be found in offering the naming rights to your stadium. This is what Ashley is proposing for next season, whilst using the end of this season to publicise his company, which he is entitled to do. A good, long-term source of revenue, previously ignored, that can get his club back on track.

Hallelujah, cry the people of Newcastle, as Ashley is hoisted aloft and praised as a shrewd and canny businessman, ready to lead them to the Promised Land.

Not really. The Newcastle fans are actually disgusted. That this man can have the nerve to even think about talking about muttering the suggestion that St James Park could be renamed in order to financially secure the club is, in their eyes, the sin of all sins. What will this devil-man do for an encore? Kill their first born? Bugger their fathers? Demand they keep their shirts on during their December matches?

Ashley can be accused of many things but not of having short arms and deep pockets. He has spent a considerable amount of his own personal wealth on Newcastle, but his finances, like every other Chairman in football, are finite and he must find new revenue sources if they are to become a force once more. Selling the naming rights to their ground is a positive and justified decision, even if it is an unpopular one.

Forme, the Newcastle fans need to get some perspective. It’s a name. That’s all it is. The club’s soul doesn’t reside purely in its buildings and it certainly doesn’t reside in what those buildings are called. A club’s soul is in its fans and its history and its legacy. Ashley is trying to make sure that in twenty years time his legacy is one of financial consistency, which will hopefully breed on-field success and if the Newcastle fans don’t understand that, they should ask themselves if they’d rather be watching a league game at St James Park… against Scunthorpe United.

Can't we all just get along?

When I first started to regularly attend football matches at the young age of 13, the kind of racism and violence that dragged the game into the gutter during the 70’s and 80’s were a thing of the past - almost anecdotal in the same way one might reminisce about dodgy perms, Panini sticker albums and hitchhiking to the game. They were remembered, in some bizarre cases fondly, but they were assumed to be a thing of the past. Football fans around the country would pat themselves on the back for how civilised we’d all become. However, allow yourself to think hard about what it's been like since those ‘dark days of football’, and then ask yourself the question, how much have we genuinely moved on?

Sure, anybody who stands up in a ground and leisurely tosses a banana at a black player, or a supporter who runs onto the pitch to confront the referee, will be dealt with swiftly and severely but those are obvious cases. It’s easy to hide behind improvements without ever discussing what more can be done.

This season questions have been raised once again about supporters, their behaviour and where a line of common human decency should be drawn. Up and down the country fans are debating the difference between harmless banter and sub-human bile and, whilst I’m happy that these things are now being discussed out in the open, I am still constantly amazed by how far some supporters will go ‘for their club’.

Manchester City supporters for years called their red counterparts ‘Munichs’, an obvious attempt to deflect attention from the massive gulf in quality between the two teams for what seems like forever, ‘If you can wind us up about winning trophies, we’ll wind you up about people dying in a plane crash!’  Hmm.

United for their part haven’t exactly been compassionate themselves as they regularly sing songs about the Hillsborough disaster when 96 Liverpool supporters were crushed to death before and during a live televised FA Cup semi-final.

Liverpool fans in turn are also happy to jump onto the Munich bandwagon with vile chants that wouldn’t be accepted anywhere but in a football stadium.

And so the vicious circle goes on and on and on.

Screaming ferociously about tragedies the likes of which we hope are never repeated all in the name of team pride is tenuous at best. Are we to be believed that the Manchester City players become more motivated when they hear that Carlos Tevez ‘hates Munichs’? I really think not. In fact perhaps the opposite can be argued. In the run up to the derby played on the anniversary of the Munich air disaster the media was in frenzy speculating on what the response of the City fans would be. To me, as a blue, that’s insulting, but you really can’t blame them. As it happens, the fans were described after the game as being ‘impeccable’ and Man City were cheered to victory - their first win at Old Trafford in over 30 years. High praise for not acting like a low-life seems gratuitous, but nevertheless I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of my club or their fans.

That was then and this is now. The Munich taunt has crept back into the fold, albeit for far fewer supporters. That famous derby day now seems like an anomaly and what a shame that is. A City supporter on fan forum, Bluemoon, defended the return to the contemptible taunts, by saying that he was happy to respect the minutes silence on the anniversary because the club had asked him to. I wonder if after the game he received a personal phone call from City’s then manager, Sven Goran Eriksson, saying, ‘Thanks for being a sport today… feel free to continue being an arsehole again!’

It’s not just tragedies that are subjected to mockery now either, it’s individuals too. Tottenham fans will tell anyone who listens that Arsene Wenger is a paedophile, an accusation that Wenger has been forced to deny. He actually had to tell the world that he doesn’t molest children. Even as I type it, I still can’t believe it. And what about the likes of John O’Shea or Ashley Cole or many others who are constantly taunted about their sexuality? As if a) it matters or b) it’s anybody’s business. In fact homophobia seems the last refuge for the small minded football fan. A football fan is quite rightly thrown out for racist language but call a player a ‘queer’ and all you'll get are a few giggles, maybe even from the police – as if there is any difference. I genuinely long for the day when a professional player has the courage to come out openly as a gay man, though I can tell you right now, I wouldn’t have the bottle to do it.

And so this is what I'm preaching: go to football, enjoy yourself, sing some songs, have a drink and by all means bait the opposition. There’s nothing wrong with that and it is part of the reason football is the most popular sport in the world. But before you join in mindlessly with your fella supporters, question what is you’re singing and why? If it’s in support of your team, sing your heart out… if it’s uncivilised bigotry or mocking the dead, well, maybe it’s time to change seats.

Rafa on borrowed time?

There is little doubt that the pinnacle of European club football is the hallowed Champions League trophy and winning this is, for some, the be all and end all.  Manchester United, Real Madrid, Barcelona and even AC Milan all relish this competition with increasing vigour and it would be fair to suggest that one day these new and passionate continental rivalries might eclipse those being fought on English soil.  But we're not there yet.

Even Alex Ferguson, who we all know places the Champions League above all else, realises that the Premier League is still his bread and butter.  It's still the competition that you contest on a weekly basis and the one that brings in the vast majority of supporters and consequently the bumper gate receipts.  It's also the competition that actually allows you entry into the elite Champions League.  Ignore the domestic league at your peril.

These should be sentiments being passed on to Liverpool's hapless manager, Rafael 'Rafa' Benitez, by the clubs hierarchy.  Rafa has been with the club for five years and in what was quite an acheievement (only matched at Liverpool by Joe Fagan) impressively picked up the Champions League title in his first full season.  But is the shine of that famous night in Istanbul beginning to dull?  Well, after four topsy turvy years, I should think so.

Liverpool are the most decorated English club of all time, and they demand success.  Even the most hardened Kopites must be a little embarrassed to hold up five fingers to their Manchester United rivals (a gesture that highlights Liverpool's superior record in Europe's top competition), when it is clear for everyone to see that United have been far superior to Liverpool for many many years.  It's like Todd Hamilton taunting Tiger Woods because he won The 2004 Open... I can't see Tiger losing too much sleep over it, can you?

Don't get me wrong, it would be hard to argue that Rafa has taken the club backwards, but in a league with Arsenal, Chelsea, Manchester City, Tottenham Hotspur, Aston Villa, Everton and of course, Manchester United, to stand still is to go backwards.  Teams have to constantly update and improve in order to keep up with their rivals and this is what Liverpool have dramatically failed to do. 

Rafa was the driving force in Liverpool signing one of the best strikers in the world, the immensely talented Fernando Torres, and for this he should be commended.  But what happens when he and the home grown stalwart, Steven Gerrard pick up knocks, as they are both prone to doing?  I'll tell you what happens, Liverpool trot out a side that is barely an improvement on a run of the mill, mid-table Premier League outfit - with repsect, a Fulham or a Sunderland or a Wigan.  Not only do they not look like Champions League contenders, they don't look like they could qualify for the nuisance that is the UEFA Cup.

Rafa Benitez must be made accountable.  He can point the finger at his American owners all he wants but his poor signings and, at times, his tactical failings are there for all to see.  The once fiercely loyal Liverpool supporters are suddenly starting to ask serious questions of their leader and one can certainly not accuse them of jumping the gun.  Apart from the Champions League trophy, Liverpool have only won one other competition during Rafa's reign - the 2006 FA Cup.  This is a stark return for a club who sees itself as one of the biggest in the world.

If Liverpool manage to keep Gerrard and Torres injury free then I have no doubt they will be in the Champions League spots come next May - the two of them are just that good.  However, if they continue to pick up niggling injuries that keep them off the park, then Liverpool will struggle to keep up with the top four, whoever that may be.  A lack of depth and a squad of bit-part players won't win you the English Premier League and this season it won't win them the Champions League either.

It's only October and I'm already willing to stake my reputation on them not winning either and I think Liverpool have to ask themselves - is that good enough?

Backing England's Bid

England join Australia, Indonesia, Japan, Qatar*, Russia, South Korea*, and the United States as individual nations bidding for the rights to host the 2018 or 2022 World Cup Finals. Belgium and the Netherlands and Portugal and Spain have also entered joint bids where the games would be played in selected stadia from both countries.

Having not had the tournament since 1966 and being the self-proclaimed 'home of football', you would be justified in thinking that England would be considerable favourites to take home the rights for the first tournament, with only an outside chance for the joint bids from the other European countries and possibly Australia, as another FIFA exercise in spreading the appeal of football beyond its traditional base.

I wouldn't bank on it, boys and girls.

There is a stinking anglophobic element widespread through football's two major organisation, FIFA and UEFA, and there will be many people pulling every string possible to make sure that England aren't given a clear run for their bid.

Sepp Blatter, the swollen Dictator, er, I mean President of FIFA, who's leadership is already marching into its eleventh year, has made no secret of his distaste for British football and in particular the commercial behemoth that is the English Premier League.  Perhaps this stems from England's investigative media, which tarred his first two bids for FIFA leadership with direct allegations of corruption, backroom deals and politicking the likes of which Peter Mandelson would be proud.  Not only is this untrustworthy egomaniac a figurehead for this great sport, but he's also the number one man where policy and rule changes are concerned.  This is a man with such bright ideas as requesting that women wear tighter shorts when playing football, to achieve, in his ridiculous view, '...a more female aesthetic'.  We may as well let Prince Phillip run the show.  The fact that England's bid lies in the hand of a committee, rather than just one man, may well be their saving grace but I'd fully expect Blatter to be rallying his cronies to vote for anyone but.

Another serious problem for England comes from within the European football organisation, UEFA, in the form of its President, the utterly out of touch, Michael Platini.  Platini was a sublime footballer in his day, but his time now seems to be mostly taken up by finding ways to stop the flow of money into the English game.  He seems so blinkered by his contempt for the cash-rich Premier League that he has never stopped to realise that it is the biggest jewel in his own crown.  Sure, the Bundesliga holds it own, Serie A is impressive if a little tedious at times, and the French league produces some incredible home-grown talent (if Africa is considered part of France, that is), but the English Premier League is simply a world-wide phenomenon.  The EPL is followed in over 200 countries and that figure continues to grow almost monthly.  And you'd better believe there's a good reason for that; incredible talent, at times mind-boggling entertainment and the financial backing to really push football to corners of the world not traditionally concerned with the beautiful game.  Platini and Blatter should be full of nothing but praise for what has been achieved in England.

But I digress... oh yes, the bid.  The problem England face is if Platini pushes any of the other European bids.  FIFA's current policy is that the last two tournament host confederations are ineligible to bid for the next.  So, if the joints bids of Spain and Portugal and the Netherlands and Belgium are successful for 2018, England are automatically out of the running for 2022 and 2026, and vice versa.  Will FIFA want to disqualify four other nations for the next 16 years simply to give the nod to a country toward which it displays such contempt?  I suppose we shall see.

Objectively, England are a no-brainer for me.  They have the infrastructure, security (unless you're a Brazilian tourist in a puffa jacket), the stadia and the financial clout to put on an amazing tournament and if FIFA don't want the 'will it/won't it be ready?' jitters that seem to accompany most tournaments in recent times, it will give the England bid its due consideration.  Second choice, and perhaps less objectively, would be Australia... if for nothing else than to see another opening ceremony that includes a washing line.

* Qatar and South Korea are only bidding on the 2022 tournament.