Today marks a historical occasion for Rafa the Gaffer, with the introduction of a new guest columnist - 'The Best and Fairest Right Fullback', otherwise known as Mal (Cheski) McKinnon.
Says Mal:
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My “Best of the Rest” First XI
Since it became known as the English Premier League in 92, top flight English football has been dominated by the “big 4”, namely Arsenal, Chelsea, Liverpool and Man United.
The only time this stronghold over Premiership titles has been broken was in 94/95, with a Blackburn team featuring none other than Australia’s own Ginger Ninja, Robbie Slater.
It seems the only way for teams to compete with, or join, this top tier is to splash cash. It’s what Jack Walker did for Blackburn, and its what Roman Abramovich has done for Chelski.
It’s a simple equation: Big Money = Better Players.
So, taking away the big 4, who is the cream of the crop of the rest of the Premiership in 2007/8?
For my money, starting from the back, it is:
Goalkeeper: Shay Given (Newcastle)
It was a toss up between Given and Brad Friedel for the keepers jersey. Both have demonstrated safe hands and feet over long periods of time for big clubs. Given gets the nod for 2 reasons; 1) He has had to play behind a rubbish back 4 for most of his Newcastle career. Keeping clean sheets with Titus Bramble in the team is like trying to keep a clean sheet in a backpacker hostel. 2) He’s not American.
Right Back: Pascal Chimbonda (Spurs)
Pacy, comfortable on the ball, solid defensively and capable of getting on the score sheet. He’s everything that Lilli Pilli’s right back isn’t. Not afraid to wear gloves in sweltering heat either, so there’s no doubting his courage,
Centre Backs: Micah Richards (Man City) and Jonathan Woodgate (Boro)
If there’s one thing that England isn’t short of, it’s quality centre backs. I guess its also scones and tea, but that’s completely irrelevant.
Left Back: Gareth Bale (Spurs)
This was a bit of a problem position to choose, because there aren’t too many top quality left backs around. Bale gets the gig on potential alone. Can take a set piece.
Right Midfield: David Bentley (Blackburn)
You can see that Bentley was a player schooled in the Arsenal way of playing football. Technically gifted and pacy, but not afraid to get stuck in when needed. Should be an England regular.
Centre Midfield: Elano (Man City) and Mikel Arteta (Everton)
One thing this team wouldn’t lack with these two pulling the strings in the middle of the park is creativity. Both excellent on the ball and good from set pieces. I tried to include a holding midfielder, but the truth is that none of them were really worthy of a spot, unless I cheated and included Mascherano as he is only on loan at Liverpool.
Left Midfield: Martin Petrov (Man City)
Having an excellent first season in the premiership, with bags of pace and an eye for goal. It was tough to leave out Kevin Kilbane *cough *, but there was only room for one. Damien Duff * no cough* is another left winger that I rate, but he cant seem to get a game at the moment.
Strikers: Nicolas Anelka (Bolton) and Dimitar Berbatov (Spurs)
Anelka might be a sulking, cheese eating, surrender monkey (French), but he is a quality footballer and scores goals wherever he goes. Surely a bigger club will eventually make a bid for him soon.
Berbatov makes the team just ahead of Roque Santa Cruz and Benni McCarthy. It really could have been any of them, but I just love watching how easy Berbatov makes the game look when he is in form.
Michael Owen is also worth a mention but unless the administrators allow a chiropractor, a surgeon and a Swaheli witchdoctor on the field with him, he’d probably break down with injury.
So unless Iain Fyfe or Mitchell Prentice make a dramatic entry to the Premiership in the January transfer window, this would be my crème de la crème outside of the big 4.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
The first of many...
Ladies and gents, here is the first of many Samir Nasri appreciation posts. I have no idea who is the best young player going around, or who has the most potential - Messi, Fabregas, Aguero, Alexandre Pato, Bojan, Benzema, and Ben Arfa aren't a bad bunch - but Nasri is the one I've really taken a liking to.
He's a joy to watch - and at the tender age of 20, a full French international, which is no mean feat given the talent available to Raymond Domenech.
Hopefully the young lad will go on to be something special (although just quietly, I hope he doesn't find greatness any time in the next month. Come on Stevie G!)
He's a joy to watch - and at the tender age of 20, a full French international, which is no mean feat given the talent available to Raymond Domenech.
Hopefully the young lad will go on to be something special (although just quietly, I hope he doesn't find greatness any time in the next month. Come on Stevie G!)
Iain Fyfe is DISGUSTING
I ventured home from Stadium Australia the other night with mixed emotions.
For the most part I was thrilled - I had just witnessed two of the most fantastic footballers of a generation. One of them was a star of the English Premier League and the winner of no less than a FIFA World Cup, having played a key role for Brazil in a number of matches throughout the 2002 tournament. The other has been capped 99 times for England, (many of those as Captain), has 6 Premier League Titles, one UEFA Champions League and a host of other titles to his name.
As a lifelong football fan, the opportunity to watch Juninho and David Beckham live in my own back yard was absolutely surreal.
As I'm sure 79,999 other people did on Tuesday, I watched Beckham like a hawk for 90 minutes. This was a player who only six months ago was in the first team at Real Madrid, where he was integral to their success in the run in to the title. This was a player who no less than six days earlier, was playing at Wembley in a competitive international for England. His better years may be behind him, but let me tell you, not by much.
There were two things apparent to me on Tuesday night regarding Beckham. One was that despite him cruising around at times, he is an utterly magnificent footballer - head and shoulders above anyone else on the park. He may have his flaws, for example a reasonably weak left foot, but when you have a right foot as good as his, do you really need it?
He still has plenty of pace, evident on the occassions in which he actually broke in to a sprint. From memory he lost the ball from one short pass all night (funnily enough from which Sydney went on to score), and I only recall one long pass that went astray. His ability to take one touch and pick out someone on the other side of the pitch fifty yards away was simply astounding.
And the free kick, well all I can say is WOW. I get the impression that people take his record for granted, and that they expect him to score from every free kick he takes. Unfortunately it is not as easy as that, but the one he took on Tuesday was indeed special, and will no doubt be talked about for years to come.
The second thing that struck me about Beckham was his ticker. I will admit to having fears that he would only play his contracted 55 minutes and be substituted, but despite being clearly hurt he battled on for the full 90 and I admire him for that.
You could also see that it meant something for him to be out there when he bollocked Middleby, followed by a solid get square hack about ten minutes later. I absolutely loved it. The appreciation I already had for the man just tripled.
But I'll tell you what - if Beckham hadn't been so awesome, I would have gone home from Homebush Bay a shitty, shitty man on Tuesday. Why is that you ask? Two words: Iain Fyfe.
If anyone out there has read any of my earlier posts, you may or may not have noticed an extreme hatred for this supposed footballer. What was Iain Fyfe's first pass on Tuesday night, you ask? A deft touch straight to the feet of an L.A. Galaxy player. Excellent work, Fyfey.
By his own standards, he had a terrible match. But something happened towards the end of the fixture which I am just too upset to go in to great depth about. He scored. It was nightmare-ish. Iain Fyfe, obtaining the adulation of 80,000 screaming fans for a tap in? The 80,000 people should have been silent, save for a collective "What the fuck just happened?"
All in all though, Tuesday night was a resounding success, and a fantastic advertisement for football in this country. Despite Fyfe's existence, I did leave Homebush absolutely chuffed. Seems to be the case whenever I'm there - the last time I was was on a certain 16 November 2005. That is another story...
For the most part I was thrilled - I had just witnessed two of the most fantastic footballers of a generation. One of them was a star of the English Premier League and the winner of no less than a FIFA World Cup, having played a key role for Brazil in a number of matches throughout the 2002 tournament. The other has been capped 99 times for England, (many of those as Captain), has 6 Premier League Titles, one UEFA Champions League and a host of other titles to his name.
As a lifelong football fan, the opportunity to watch Juninho and David Beckham live in my own back yard was absolutely surreal.
As I'm sure 79,999 other people did on Tuesday, I watched Beckham like a hawk for 90 minutes. This was a player who only six months ago was in the first team at Real Madrid, where he was integral to their success in the run in to the title. This was a player who no less than six days earlier, was playing at Wembley in a competitive international for England. His better years may be behind him, but let me tell you, not by much.
There were two things apparent to me on Tuesday night regarding Beckham. One was that despite him cruising around at times, he is an utterly magnificent footballer - head and shoulders above anyone else on the park. He may have his flaws, for example a reasonably weak left foot, but when you have a right foot as good as his, do you really need it?
He still has plenty of pace, evident on the occassions in which he actually broke in to a sprint. From memory he lost the ball from one short pass all night (funnily enough from which Sydney went on to score), and I only recall one long pass that went astray. His ability to take one touch and pick out someone on the other side of the pitch fifty yards away was simply astounding.
And the free kick, well all I can say is WOW. I get the impression that people take his record for granted, and that they expect him to score from every free kick he takes. Unfortunately it is not as easy as that, but the one he took on Tuesday was indeed special, and will no doubt be talked about for years to come.
The second thing that struck me about Beckham was his ticker. I will admit to having fears that he would only play his contracted 55 minutes and be substituted, but despite being clearly hurt he battled on for the full 90 and I admire him for that.
You could also see that it meant something for him to be out there when he bollocked Middleby, followed by a solid get square hack about ten minutes later. I absolutely loved it. The appreciation I already had for the man just tripled.
But I'll tell you what - if Beckham hadn't been so awesome, I would have gone home from Homebush Bay a shitty, shitty man on Tuesday. Why is that you ask? Two words: Iain Fyfe.
If anyone out there has read any of my earlier posts, you may or may not have noticed an extreme hatred for this supposed footballer. What was Iain Fyfe's first pass on Tuesday night, you ask? A deft touch straight to the feet of an L.A. Galaxy player. Excellent work, Fyfey.
By his own standards, he had a terrible match. But something happened towards the end of the fixture which I am just too upset to go in to great depth about. He scored. It was nightmare-ish. Iain Fyfe, obtaining the adulation of 80,000 screaming fans for a tap in? The 80,000 people should have been silent, save for a collective "What the fuck just happened?"
All in all though, Tuesday night was a resounding success, and a fantastic advertisement for football in this country. Despite Fyfe's existence, I did leave Homebush absolutely chuffed. Seems to be the case whenever I'm there - the last time I was was on a certain 16 November 2005. That is another story...
Monday, November 26, 2007
Is this man the worst player in the Hyundai A-League?
The answer to that question is yes, yes he is. Iain "I'm the opposition's main outlet" Fyfe took 90 minutes of my life yesterday evening that I will never get back. And I am suitably disgusted.Before I continue, I must say this. It may seem harsh for one to abuse and deride an A-League footballer when the abuser in question has no A-League appearances to his name, but I am simply so enraged that I cannot help myself. The fact is that people actually part with their hard-earned, be it for Fox, public transport costs or match tickets to have the "opportunity" to watch this guy play. And that is a travesty.
Fyfe's efforts on Sunday evening consisted of the following:
- Massively overhit passes that were it not for the advertising boards, would still be rolling along the ground somewhere near Brisbane.
- Crosses ending up either behind the goals in Row Z, or out for a throw in on the other side of the pitch.
- Trying to beat a player in the oppositions final third only to be dispossessed.
- Giving away stupid fouls around his own penalty box that put his own side under unnecessary pressure.
Now if Fyfe were merely a park footballer playing for a ming team like Bonnet Bay 21A's, all of this would be perfectly acceptable. However Fyfe is supposedly a professional footballer. His "work" is kitting up and playing football every day, training hard in order to better himself both individually and as part of the team, and to prepare himself to put in a good performance for the fans who pay to watch him on match day. Yet he is still shit. If I was that shit at my job for so long, the reality is I wouldn't be in it any more.
There is perhaps an argument that Fyfe is played out of position at Sydney FC and not in his favoured role of central defence, yet I will not accept this opinion. For me, the temperament to not do stupid things on a football pitch and heaven forbid the ability to pass the ball to your teammates are qualities that should be found in every player on the field, no matter their position.
In Fyfe's defence, he does have one U/17 World Cup Final to his name - a match against Brazil in Auckland, 1999. I will admit to being openly jealous of this, but after seeing him choke badly in the penalty shootout to give the 'Selecao' victory after a tense 0-0 draw, perhaps I should have known what to expect in the years to come.
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Just quietly, this is classic.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Random Recollections Version 2.0
Welcome back for the second instalment of Random Recollections. Tonight's complete random is:.... NONE OTHER THAN BERNARD FUCKING DIOMEDE.
The man to the left is, believe it or not people, the proud owner of a World Cup Winner's medal. Only a select few on this earth can ever lay claim to this amazing feat - what I perceive to be the most glorious and desirable sporting prize on the planet.
What is also amazing, is that this man is one of only 2 World Cup Winners to have played for Liverpool that I am aware of in the 21 years I have been alive (correct me if I'm wrong Longy - the only other I'm aware of is KarlHeinz Riedle).
So you'd be forgiven for thinking he was pretty good at Anfield. The thing is, he was utter pants. Lfc.tv informs me that in his 3 year spell at the club, he amassed an incredible total of 5 first team games for the club. Ask anyone in the Kop, and they would say it was probably 5 too many.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Sexy Football Club - The Studs
Female fans from all four supposed corners of our clearly spherical globe have gone absolutely bonkers following confirmation that Sexy Football Club have pencilled in a post-season tour of Australia.
As the tour draws nearer, what better time to cast our eye over the anticipated make-up of the First XI:
GOALKEEPER: Ed de Goey
The success of any side is built on a solid defensive foundation, of which the goalkeeper is a key component.
The Studs can be confident that Ed de Goey will not let them down with his massive dome and seedy facial hair.
RIGHT BACK: Oleguer
My word.
CENTRAL DEFENCE: Terry Butcher
The photo says it all.
LEFT BACK: Tony Popovic
Poppa shows what a great stepping stone the A-League has become for those wanting to mix it with the best.
RIGHT MIDFIELD: Luke Chadwick
Disgusting. Truly disgusting. And Chadders, what is doing with that hair?
CENTRAL MIDFIELD: Javier Mascherano
Deemed surplus to requirements at West Ham United, the services of the Monster Masch were acquired by Rafa Benitez who had decided to bolster the ugliness rating at Anfield.
CENTRAL MIDFIELD: David Hopkin
Playing for Leeds was bad enough!
LEFT WING: Franck Ribery (c)
On a serious note, I understand Franck was involved in a car accident at two years of age, and hence was not always destined to look as unfortunate as this. As football fans we richer for his survival as he has grown to become a player of considerable talent.
Despite Franck's less than favourable circumstances, I'm a small, small man. The reality is he was the first name on the teamsheet, in 72pt bold text.
ATTACKING MIDFIELD: Ronaldinho
A wonderful player - perhaps one of the greatest there has ever been. Rank head though.
STRIKER: Carlitos Tevez
One glance at that gorgeous smile, and it is clear for all to see why this young man is making all females in Argentina dripping wet.
STRIKER: Wayne Rooney
The boy wonder faced stiff competition from Dirk Kuyt for the final spot in this side, however the fact that Rooney plays for Manchester United and is shagging an absolute slapper himself cemented his inclusion.
As the tour draws nearer, what better time to cast our eye over the anticipated make-up of the First XI:
GOALKEEPER: Ed de Goey
The success of any side is built on a solid defensive foundation, of which the goalkeeper is a key component.
The Studs can be confident that Ed de Goey will not let them down with his massive dome and seedy facial hair.
RIGHT BACK: Oleguer
My word.
CENTRAL DEFENCE: Terry Butcher
The photo says it all.
LEFT BACK: Tony Popovic
Poppa shows what a great stepping stone the A-League has become for those wanting to mix it with the best.
RIGHT MIDFIELD: Luke Chadwick
Disgusting. Truly disgusting. And Chadders, what is doing with that hair?
CENTRAL MIDFIELD: Javier Mascherano
Deemed surplus to requirements at West Ham United, the services of the Monster Masch were acquired by Rafa Benitez who had decided to bolster the ugliness rating at Anfield.
CENTRAL MIDFIELD: David Hopkin
Playing for Leeds was bad enough!
LEFT WING: Franck Ribery (c)
On a serious note, I understand Franck was involved in a car accident at two years of age, and hence was not always destined to look as unfortunate as this. As football fans we richer for his survival as he has grown to become a player of considerable talent.
Despite Franck's less than favourable circumstances, I'm a small, small man. The reality is he was the first name on the teamsheet, in 72pt bold text.
ATTACKING MIDFIELD: Ronaldinho
A wonderful player - perhaps one of the greatest there has ever been. Rank head though.
STRIKER: Carlitos Tevez
One glance at that gorgeous smile, and it is clear for all to see why this young man is making all females in Argentina dripping wet.
STRIKER: Wayne Rooney
The boy wonder faced stiff competition from Dirk Kuyt for the final spot in this side, however the fact that Rooney plays for Manchester United and is shagging an absolute slapper himself cemented his inclusion.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
God Save the Team
Children, there is only one more thing more fucked up than this young man's head.
What is it you may ask? Why, it is his national football side.
As an Australian of relatively recent English descent, I will admit to initally being a little disappointed this morning. That feeling of sadness didn't last long - on reflection I'm ecstatic that England failed to qualify for Euro 2008. There are a number of reasons for this, namely:
1) The team simply didn't deserve to go through, and qualification would merely have covered up the shortcomings of both management, support staff and the squad that have been so blatantly obvious this campaign.
2) In my opinion, this provides the FA with a (sort of) blessing in disguise. They now have the opportunity to make some changes to the set up without the pressure of an international tournament looming on the horizon. They won't be forced in to knee-jerk reactions - they can take some time and do things properly, with a view to building long term success.
3) McLaren was a poor manager, and I would rather him be punted now than for him to keep his job and see the side do poorly at Euro 2008. Under his control, what I feel is a talented group of players would never have reached their potential.
For an in depth analysis of the tactical shortcomings of one S. McLaren, I draw your attention to this morning's match.
The general consensus amongst footballing media was that McLaren had finally grown some balls with his decision to drop Paul Robinson and bring in Scott Carson. Perhaps, however I am of the opinion that any potential increase in the size of his nuts was accompanied by an unfortunate corresponding decrease in the size of his footballing brain.
Why throw Carson in to a match as big as this? He only made his international debut last Friday!
I know the lad kept a clean sheet on his EPL debut against Man Utd, and I know he has held out Juve in the UCL, but I feel this morning's match was just too crucial to throw him in the deep end. I was all for dropping Paul Robinson, however I agree with young Michael Long's thoughts, and even said as much to my old man last night before the game. David James should have got the gig.
And why was Golden Balls sitting on the sidelines? We all know what this man is capable of in England's hour of need. But he is more than a dead ball specialist, and I feel his experience and ability to actually pass the football, not to mention the sheer passion he displays when pulling on the three lions jersey, were pivotal to England's hopes of success. To give Becks 45 minutes to pull something out of his arse, when the team was playing like shite and were already 2-0 down and chasing the match, was criminal from McClaren.
I could rant about a lot more - England playing at Wembley with a solitary man up front, the mere inclusion of Wright-Phillips on the pitch, whether it be in place of Beckham or not, and the persistence with a Gerrard - Lampard midfield combination that has less chance of gelling than Jamie Carragher kitting up for Everton.
McLaren, it must be said though, is not solely to blame. I am forever mystified at how the English players, who are absolute world beaters for their club sides at the weekend, turn in to complete muppets for their country. I am yet to see a Steven Gerrard performance resemble anything near what he has ever produced for Liverpool.
I've often thought about his conundrum, and have actually come up with a theory on it. Obviously in any football match your own ability is key, but could it be possible that a large part of how good a footballer you are is determined by those playing around you?
It's all well and good for Rooney to feed off footballing superstars like Carlos Tevez and Cristiano Ronaldo at the weekend, but can you rely the same quality from a Wright Phillips, Wayne Bridge or heaven forbid, a Stewart Downing?
Frank Lampard can push forward more at Chelsea, playing off one of the world's best centre forwards in Didier Drogba, knowing that Claude Makelele will always be covering him. John Terry is an absolute rock in that same side - yet if he does succumb to error, his blushes are more often than not spared by Petr Cech. Unfortunately JT isn't afforded the same level of insurance with Tank Robinson behind him.
Whatever the reasoning, it is clear this group of players, management, support staff, and dare I say the FA, has failed and failed miserably. I reiterate though that I am glad they did - not because I hate the Poms, but because I want them to become a superpower of world football once more, and for that to happen, changes need to be made.
As I finish this blog, it appears they have already started, and the rebuilding process has just begun. Don't let the door hit your arse on the way out Macca.
For an in depth analysis of the tactical shortcomings of one S. McLaren, I draw your attention to this morning's match.
The general consensus amongst footballing media was that McLaren had finally grown some balls with his decision to drop Paul Robinson and bring in Scott Carson. Perhaps, however I am of the opinion that any potential increase in the size of his nuts was accompanied by an unfortunate corresponding decrease in the size of his footballing brain.
Why throw Carson in to a match as big as this? He only made his international debut last Friday!
I know the lad kept a clean sheet on his EPL debut against Man Utd, and I know he has held out Juve in the UCL, but I feel this morning's match was just too crucial to throw him in the deep end. I was all for dropping Paul Robinson, however I agree with young Michael Long's thoughts, and even said as much to my old man last night before the game. David James should have got the gig.
And why was Golden Balls sitting on the sidelines? We all know what this man is capable of in England's hour of need. But he is more than a dead ball specialist, and I feel his experience and ability to actually pass the football, not to mention the sheer passion he displays when pulling on the three lions jersey, were pivotal to England's hopes of success. To give Becks 45 minutes to pull something out of his arse, when the team was playing like shite and were already 2-0 down and chasing the match, was criminal from McClaren.
I could rant about a lot more - England playing at Wembley with a solitary man up front, the mere inclusion of Wright-Phillips on the pitch, whether it be in place of Beckham or not, and the persistence with a Gerrard - Lampard midfield combination that has less chance of gelling than Jamie Carragher kitting up for Everton.
McLaren, it must be said though, is not solely to blame. I am forever mystified at how the English players, who are absolute world beaters for their club sides at the weekend, turn in to complete muppets for their country. I am yet to see a Steven Gerrard performance resemble anything near what he has ever produced for Liverpool.
I've often thought about his conundrum, and have actually come up with a theory on it. Obviously in any football match your own ability is key, but could it be possible that a large part of how good a footballer you are is determined by those playing around you?
It's all well and good for Rooney to feed off footballing superstars like Carlos Tevez and Cristiano Ronaldo at the weekend, but can you rely the same quality from a Wright Phillips, Wayne Bridge or heaven forbid, a Stewart Downing?
Frank Lampard can push forward more at Chelsea, playing off one of the world's best centre forwards in Didier Drogba, knowing that Claude Makelele will always be covering him. John Terry is an absolute rock in that same side - yet if he does succumb to error, his blushes are more often than not spared by Petr Cech. Unfortunately JT isn't afforded the same level of insurance with Tank Robinson behind him.
Whatever the reasoning, it is clear this group of players, management, support staff, and dare I say the FA, has failed and failed miserably. I reiterate though that I am glad they did - not because I hate the Poms, but because I want them to become a superpower of world football once more, and for that to happen, changes need to be made.
As I finish this blog, it appears they have already started, and the rebuilding process has just begun. Don't let the door hit your arse on the way out Macca.
Random Recollections
Occasionally, my mates and I reminisce about footballers of yesteryear. Guys we used to watch when we were kids, but now in the days of Messi, Fabregas and Torres, guys who we have pretty much forgotten existed.
It is always a good laugh when one of us pulls someone outrageous from the deep depths of our memory - someone obscure, someone unique, someone with a crazy name, or someone who spent several years toiling away in an unglamourous left full back role before slipping out of the public eye almost instantly.
Here is one such random:
Oyvind Leonhardsen!!!!!!
Amongst others, played for Liverpool, Spurs and Wimbledon (RIP lads!).
Still going strong this season at about 134 years of age, captaining a side in his native Norway, but due to retire at the end of the year.
It is always a good laugh when one of us pulls someone outrageous from the deep depths of our memory - someone obscure, someone unique, someone with a crazy name, or someone who spent several years toiling away in an unglamourous left full back role before slipping out of the public eye almost instantly.
Here is one such random:
Oyvind Leonhardsen!!!!!!
Amongst others, played for Liverpool, Spurs and Wimbledon (RIP lads!).
Still going strong this season at about 134 years of age, captaining a side in his native Norway, but due to retire at the end of the year.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Lollerskates 2.0
I'd like to take a minute to reflect on this great footballing moment, provided by former Energie Cottbus goalkeeper, Tomislav Piplica.
I had actually witnessed Piplica play only a week or two before this incident, in a packed Westfalenstadion with just shy of 70,000 "krazy krauts" dressed in fluoro yellow going nothing short of mental for big Jan Koller and a youngish T. Rosicky.
It was March 2002, and Piplica was in fine form that afternoon, managing to pull off several key saves and restrict the home sides' winning margin to just a few.
A couple of weeks later though, I was back home, watching SBS. And I heard Les mention the Cottbus keeper, fully expecting him to start talking about what a good goalkeeper he is.
I said to my old man, "I saw him play in Dortmund, Dad. He made a few quality saves. Can't believe how sharp he was!!"
Oh dear, how wrong I was.
I had actually witnessed Piplica play only a week or two before this incident, in a packed Westfalenstadion with just shy of 70,000 "krazy krauts" dressed in fluoro yellow going nothing short of mental for big Jan Koller and a youngish T. Rosicky.
It was March 2002, and Piplica was in fine form that afternoon, managing to pull off several key saves and restrict the home sides' winning margin to just a few.
A couple of weeks later though, I was back home, watching SBS. And I heard Les mention the Cottbus keeper, fully expecting him to start talking about what a good goalkeeper he is.
I said to my old man, "I saw him play in Dortmund, Dad. He made a few quality saves. Can't believe how sharp he was!!"
Oh dear, how wrong I was.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Steve McLaren anyone?
And so Ben Buckley has been caught with his pants down. Which is exactly how he should have been caught really, given that he was supposed to be celebrating his honeymoon over the weekend. Sadly though, one Dick's fun was halted by another - Big Dick Advocaat.
Mr Advocaat: Are you watching? See what you'll be missing!! screamed the headlines after the Socceroos' 1-0 win over Nigeria at Craven Cottage on Saturday. I'll wager some hard Russian currency that no, he wasn't watching, and that he probably couldn't give a toss. For him all that matters now is Zenit's tilt at the UCL next season and the defence of their Russian crown. Oh, and his bank account.
I say screw the box-headed bastard. His heart clearly wasn't it, so fuck off. We don't need you here anyway. We have Graham Arnold and Frank Farina.
And so I ask, who will be the next Socceroos coach? Some of the names being bandied around are laughable. Klinsmann, Riijkard, Mourinho. What a joke.
I can definitely picture these events:
Frank: Jose, keen on coming down under for a coaching stint?
Jose: Frank, I am The Special One. Why would I give up the footballing riches and stardom of Europe, and take my family to the other side of the world?
Frank: Two words. Brett Holman.
Jose: Jesus Christ.
Frank: He's better than Drogba. And Kisnorbo - makes John Terry look like Michael Duberry.
Jose: I see. How much?
Frank: $300 million a season.
Jose: Sorry Frank, no dice. I'll need much more than that.
Frank: Free Oportos at Westfield Miranda. And a Carmens membership.
Jose: It's a deal. Tell me more about this Holman.
In light of the 0% chance of the above unfolding, I've saved Buckers a bit of time by narrowing down his options to the following outstanding managers, who I think would jump at the chance of coaching Australia. Mainly because the NT can't be relegated.
- Peter Reid.
- Gary Megson.
- Christian Gross.
- Glenn Roeder.
- Terry Butcher.
- Sammy Lee.
- Steve McLaren.
Wow, what a list! Seriously though, Steve Mac ought to be looking for some alternative employment come Thursday morning - he has been utter pants as England boss. Just go back to what you're good at Steve - being an assistant. For Cambridge City. In the Conference. South Divison. Youth team.
Mr Advocaat: Are you watching? See what you'll be missing!! screamed the headlines after the Socceroos' 1-0 win over Nigeria at Craven Cottage on Saturday. I'll wager some hard Russian currency that no, he wasn't watching, and that he probably couldn't give a toss. For him all that matters now is Zenit's tilt at the UCL next season and the defence of their Russian crown. Oh, and his bank account.
I say screw the box-headed bastard. His heart clearly wasn't it, so fuck off. We don't need you here anyway. We have Graham Arnold and Frank Farina.
And so I ask, who will be the next Socceroos coach? Some of the names being bandied around are laughable. Klinsmann, Riijkard, Mourinho. What a joke.
I can definitely picture these events:
Frank: Jose, keen on coming down under for a coaching stint?
Jose: Frank, I am The Special One. Why would I give up the footballing riches and stardom of Europe, and take my family to the other side of the world?
Frank: Two words. Brett Holman.
Jose: Jesus Christ.
Frank: He's better than Drogba. And Kisnorbo - makes John Terry look like Michael Duberry.
Jose: I see. How much?
Frank: $300 million a season.
Jose: Sorry Frank, no dice. I'll need much more than that.
Frank: Free Oportos at Westfield Miranda. And a Carmens membership.
Jose: It's a deal. Tell me more about this Holman.
In light of the 0% chance of the above unfolding, I've saved Buckers a bit of time by narrowing down his options to the following outstanding managers, who I think would jump at the chance of coaching Australia. Mainly because the NT can't be relegated.
- Peter Reid.
- Gary Megson.
- Christian Gross.
- Glenn Roeder.
- Terry Butcher.
- Sammy Lee.
- Steve McLaren.
Wow, what a list! Seriously though, Steve Mac ought to be looking for some alternative employment come Thursday morning - he has been utter pants as England boss. Just go back to what you're good at Steve - being an assistant. For Cambridge City. In the Conference. South Divison. Youth team.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Debut
Greetings. I am Rafa the Gaffer. It is fair to say I have an enormous passion for football.
I have played the game since I was six. I was thrown in goals in my first match and managed to keep a clean sheet, which I am most proud of. I have been fortunate enough to keep several since, however now myself find further up the pitch banging in the odd goal or two. And missing many sitters.
Perhaps I have been watching Rosicky?
I'm not going to be too hard on the lad though. He missed his chance in front of 60,000 at Arsenal's most impressive Emirates complex. I've missed my chances (note plural) in front of a handful of dedicated family and friends, the canteen ladies and the odd stray dog.
That is all for my debut, ladies and gents. It is ridiculously late. But Rafa is in town, so spread the word, and come back soon so you can shake your head at my insane and highly opinionated views of the world game.
For now though, I will leave you with some of my best work. Peace out!
I have played the game since I was six. I was thrown in goals in my first match and managed to keep a clean sheet, which I am most proud of. I have been fortunate enough to keep several since, however now myself find further up the pitch banging in the odd goal or two. And missing many sitters.
Perhaps I have been watching Rosicky?
I'm not going to be too hard on the lad though. He missed his chance in front of 60,000 at Arsenal's most impressive Emirates complex. I've missed my chances (note plural) in front of a handful of dedicated family and friends, the canteen ladies and the odd stray dog.
That is all for my debut, ladies and gents. It is ridiculously late. But Rafa is in town, so spread the word, and come back soon so you can shake your head at my insane and highly opinionated views of the world game.
For now though, I will leave you with some of my best work. Peace out!
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