Archive | December, 2011

Shearer For England by Hayden Shaw

Alan Shearer

The final Wednesday Dispatch of 2011 sees Hayden Shaw gazing into his crystal ball and telling us the future. It doesn’t bode well for England fans. Ladies and gentleman, may we introduce to you…

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If Your Football Club Was A Cow…

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The many conundrums faced by mankind; is there life on Mars? Can we solve the Israel-Palestine conflict? Is Bruce Forsyth ever going to retire? But what you actually wonder the most is how one would go about comparing Premier League clubs with the bovine species. Dispatches From A Football Sofa has ‘udderly’ lost the plot and only gone and done it for you…

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An Old Trafford Christmas Carol

grumpy-fergie

It’s coming up to the two hundredth anniversary of Charles Dickens’ birth and it’s nearly Christmas. So this year’s Christmas Dispatch was easy. Say hello, to a famous old curmudgeon…

As the dying embers of the fire crackled and hissed, Ebenezer Ferguson clasped his gnarled hands around a flagon of whiskey and took another sip. Pinched of cheek and red of nose, he sat awaiting the fast-approaching hour of twelve; the night before Christmas morn. An hour before he had received a visitation from a spectre. His former partner, Brian Kiddisworth had miraculously emerged from an ethereal dimension to reproach and warn him to mend the error of his ways. Kiddisworth had betrayed his mentor years previously and the two men had not exchanged a passing pleasantry for the remainder of Kiddisworth’s time on Earth. Ebenezer Ferguson had cared not a jot. He had become hardened of heart and allowed personal feuds to destroy what aspects of humanity still remained within him.

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Charlie Don’t Surf: How Football’s Past Could Save Football’s Future by Winston Cuthbert

Winston illustration

Winston Cuthbert has a plan. And he wants to tell you about it with a little help from a footballing pioneer. Take it away, my good man…

It’s not often I’m actually asked for my opinion, which is why I so often tend to give it. Graciously invited to join Dispatches’ ranks, I am grabbing the opportunity to make a proposition. Seemingly nonsensical considering the world we live in today, my proposition remains a eulogy to football, mirroring the ethos and spirit of Dispatches. It is a simple yet radical proposition, inspired by the Father of Football.

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I Believe In Miracles: Why Spurs Will Win The Premier League

believe-sign

Around this time of year we’re apparently expected to suspend our natural proclivities for disbelieving. We’re expected to believe that our bank balances are healthy when our monthly statements depressingly prove otherwise, so that we can keep the family happy by lavishing them with cheaply manufactured toot. We’re also meant to believe that a benevolent pensioner in a red suit and a white beard scales down our non-existent chimneys to reward the goodness of children across the globe. Moreover, we’re asked to believe that the Big Man sent down his son and heir to save us all from ourselves on December the 25th, coincidentally synchronising his arrival with ancient pagan festivities. Why consider the boring facts when stuffing ourselves with dry turkey and sugary puddings feels so damned good, right?

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One Gary Speed

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I never met you. You didn’t play for the club I support or any of the traditional teams that fuel the rivalry of this game of ours. So I never formulated any strong emotion towards you. If I’m being totally honest, you were one of those players who passed me by whenever I watched a game involving you, only for analysts to point out my tactical ignorance by explaining your titanic contributions to the midfield battles that are the crux of any match. And once shown, I would quietly acknowledge that you were a fantastic player who made the best of the skills you were given.

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