Last week saw Dispatches lament the demise of the football manager. So this week, the Sofa felt it needed to channel the afterlife to interview a manager whose presence still resonates years after he passed. Frost/Nixon this may not be. But it’ll give Gallagher/Balotelli a run for their money.
Tag Archives | Greece
Coventry City And The Irrationality Of Hate
For Ray Dimond
When it comes to the team I hate most in football, it’s not Arsenal who have subjected most of my years supporting Spurs to one humiliating capitulation after another whilst watching on enviously as the trophies and plaudits washed across the hearths of both Highbury and The Emirates. It’s not even Chelsea, who spent years playing the playground bully holding the school squirt’s attempts to land a blow on his chin at arm’s length. West Ham? They’ve always been a minor irritation but have never come close to raising my hackles to such an extent that I lose the ability for rational thought.
That particular ‘honour’ will always belong to Coventry City. It’s not their association with Richard Keys that sets my teeth on edge, although that doesn’t help. No, the genesis for my myopic brand of loathing can be pinpointed to one particular sunny day. 16th May, 1987. On that day, I awoke to find a seven inch vinyl copy of Chas ‘n’ Dave’s FA Cup final song, Hot Shot Tottenham, gleaming with promise and hope at the edge of my bed placed there lovingly by my mum; it was better than Christmas. And from about eight in the morning to when the television build-up began around noon, I played it continuously on a loop. The outcome of that day we all know, but what truly stung was the realisation that cup win number eight was not as the Cockernee Duo promised, “coming up” and neither were Spurs, “the team, the cream… the best you’ve ever seen”.
Euros Trashed
“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.
I Heart Manchester United: A Confession
Picture the scene. The Champions League Final, 1999. Reading University Student Union Bar. My future wife and best friend have just witnessed Teddy Sheringham’s last-gasp equaliser against Bayern Munich and she’s dancing on the sticky, alcohol-sodden floor whilst he’s lying on a pew in disbelief. Cue Solksjaer and we all know what happened next.
Myths and Legends
SPOILER ALERT: If you have not seen The Wire in its entirety do not read this piece.
The story of my great uncle Nikos is a much-told story in my family. Fighting for the British in the Second World War, he was captured by the Germans and taken to a prisoner of war camp. Through sheer bloody-mindedness and ingenuity, he managed to escape his captors and found sanctuary in Greece thinking that being amongst fellow Hellenes would keep him safe. He hadn’t accounted for collaborators and he was soon re-captured and suffered at the hands of the Nazis. His survival instincts however, were unquenchable and he broke out for a second time, spending the rest of the war hiding in Switzerland.
Identity Crisis
There is something about this Holland team that is slightly amiss. How can a team that has breezed through its group, overcome the imposing hurdle of Brazil and by and large looked comfortable in its semi-final victory against Uruguay, leave so many of us with a hollow feeling in the pit of our stomachs?
Edited Highlights
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…
The Numbers Game
I sadly missed the gallant but ultimately futile attempts of Bafana Bafana to avoid becoming the first ever host nation to go out in the group stage today. I missed it because of numbers. Cold, heartless numbers. I don’t much like statistics and data. They group people together into faceless graphs that suck out any semblance of individuality and personality which only serves to embed preconceptions and prejudices which as a teacher, I do so much to eradicate from the malleable minds of the young. As the minutes of the meeting turned into hours, I began to question the fundamental reasons that I chose to enter this profession in the first place. How can a bureaucrat in a faraway monolith of drabby cement even begin to understand the personalities that my fellow professionals and I juggle with every day, (with all their stratifying elements of mischievousness, witticisms and travails) through the emotionless accumulation of anonymous polls and pie charts. I decided today, that I will refuse to play the numbers game however much that might hinder any vainglorious ideas of career progression.
Ifs and Buts
Consider the word ‘if’. What does it evoke? Through our natural inclination for inquisitiveness we have asked questions which have allowed our chaotic human race to elevate itself above the other lifeforms of planet Earth. If I strike those flints, what will happen? If E=MC2, what is the result? If I fly to the moon, what else can I achieve? If I dare to dream….
It’s Not Easy Being Greek
“If I had Messi, Kaka, Iniesta and Xavi, then Greece would play creative football,” were the pragmatic words spoken by Greece’s wily tactician of a coach, Otto Rehhagel, before today’s encounter with Nigeria. Such honesty is a rarity in today’s footballing climate where teams are talked up to saturation point only to implode under the weight of a combination of arrogance and overexpectancy from the baying crowds and tabloids that so laud them. Witness Spain’s reversion to much-fancied falterers yesterday against Switzerland’s hit and run tactics and France’s household names cloying for the sanctity of anonymity after their no-show in both their games so far.
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In Defence Of Luis Suarez by Rachael Singh
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Captain Caveman: The De-evolution of John Terry
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Liverpool Football Club, 1892 – 2012 – An Obituary
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