As featured in The Guardian\
A new job drove William Abbs into the arms of another club. Is it really possible for a fan to reconcile a love for one team with their feelings for another, or does it all just get a bit too complicated?
Read more on Playing Away Or ‘Cheating’ On Manchester United by William Abbs…
In the space of seven days, two Russians have asserted their authority with characteristic ruthlessness. In Moscow, Vladimir Putin is currently snuffing out any dissent that has arisen from his contested election victory last Sunday. Meanwhile, in the borough of Hammersmith and Fulham, Roman Abramovich yet again demonstrated that his willingness to abandon his managerial appointments in favour of a dressing room dominated by preening egos is probably the greatest hindrance to Chelsea’s long-term future at the English game’s summit.
Read more on Mutiny At Stamford Bridge: The Downfall Of Villas-Boas…
Michael Owen. Jonny Wilkinson. Tim Henman. You still with me? Or have I lulled you into a mind-crunching stupor in the opening few sentences of this week’s Dispatch? Granted, these individuals achieved a certain level of success in their sporting disciplines during their careers but in all honesty, they won’t be lauded or celebrated for their exuberance and iconoclasm when their adventures are recalled in years to come. In many respects they were Blair’s Sportsmen; stylishly packaged by sporting manufacturers but very little substance beyond the obvious.
We all know it’s wrong. We can see it happening before our very eyes. In the end our beloved teams will betray us. But they say love is blind. Dispatches is proud to welcome the fabulous Juliet Jacques to the Sofa as she confesses to her very tainted love.
Read more on Confessions Of An Armchair Immoralist by Juliet Jacques…
“We watching the England match tonight?” I asked Mrs T on Friday. “Do we have to?” was her reply. I shrugged. She barely managed to stay awake and I spent the majority of the match in a state of disinterest, messing about on Twitter. And in this brief vignette, a prevalent apathy towards international football and more specifically, qualifying matches was captured.
Dearest Mother,
It’s been a spiffing start to the term and I thought I’d take a moment to write to you and Papa to let you in on some of the fun things all the prep boys have been up to over the past week. I’m so glad you chose to send me here instead of that awful school down the round that has just opened its doors to the smelly oiks who can’t even manage to get a C-grade in woodwork. Apparently it’s run by a chef! Goodness me! After all, what an earth could he know about teaching a gang of hooligans about the benefits of simulation and backchat! You’re so lucky, that I’m going to turn out just like the splendid examples of humanity we have here!
Top tips for World Cup sofa survival:
1. Use technology to your advantage
When the forces of employment take away all the joy of living with their serious insistence that bills must be paid and responsibilities adhered to, the World Cup obsessive must seek refuge in the ability of the boffin to bring you your World Cup fix in a matter of seconds, locale holds no bounds. Twitter, internet, mobile phone and hearsay will all allow you to keep your finger, albeit surreptitiously, on the World Cup pulse. Match on at half twelve? No problem. Mute it and check your desk for ‘pens’, every few minutes or so, catching a blurry image of a New Zealand defender clattering into a Slovak. Three o’ clock matches? Forg-edda-bou-it! Sky + the required match and endanger pedestrians as you zoom home just in time to watch the recorded first half, forward the Hansen’s jibber-jabber and relax into the second half, ‘live’. Bliss…..unless…..the machiavellian spoilers at Sky, shorn of footballing dominance, sabotage the opening match by having the recording stop with thirty minutes to go unbeknownst to the erstwhile fan. Recording over, the tv goes back to real time and the match is in stoppage time. Adrian Chiles announces a barnstorming second half but you wouldn’t know because you endured the tense chess match of the first half. This has happened to more than one person. I share your pain.
Rest day in South Africa today, so in keeping with footballing convention, I bring you the edited highlights from the past twenty days on the World Cup sofa. Dare to think, dare to dream…
How magically fitting on this night that it was the first African-American President who popularised the notion of ”the audacity of hope”. I feared that the albatross of not just a country’s dreams and hopes but an entire continent’s, would perhaps weigh too heavy upon the tenderly young squad of Ghanaian players in Rustenburg. As it transpired , they held their nerve spectacularly when it looked as if the balance had tipped in the favour of the USA, once Landon Donovan calmly dispatched his spot-kick. With the final whistle came spontaneous outbursts of jubilation, which by the looks of things will be replicated on the streets of Accra, Yaounde and Johannesburg for a long time to come; cementing these Black Stars into the annals of the continent’s history in the process. No football fan on Earth can really feel anything other than an uplifting sense of pride that Ghana remain in the tournament. Ghana now face Uruguay and beyond that they but can only dare to hope.
Perhaps more pronounced than ever before, the footballing world is divided into two distinct camps. On one side are the teams that employ rigid formations and highly organised strategies that have reaped rewards to varying degrees. Juxtaposing them are the teams whose lifeblood runs through the veins, match fitness and temperament of a single, totemic talisman. For every unbreakable line of Swiss defenders, there is a Didier Drogba who embodies his team’s ambitions. For every squad of unfamiliar Slovakian faces, there is a Lionel Messi who is capable of turning a game in his country’s favour with one moment of breathtaking flamboyance. Quite which philosophy trumps the other is a matter of perennial debate but both present us with issues that both furrow the brow with worry and leave us scratching our heads in consternation.
In Defence Of Luis Suarez by Rachael Singh
What’s The Point Of Scottish Football?
Captain Caveman: The De-evolution of John Terry
Alan Davies Is Here All Week
Liverpool Football Club, 1892 – 2012 – An Obituary
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