Premier League Predictions – 30th October

Meg Predicts: "Sunderland three, Liverpool twoooooo"

For anyone who has used the shiny RSS feed thingy on the right, and therefore recieves new Eddies Football Blog articles direct to their inbox, I have to apologise. Last week you will have been waiting, betting slip in hand, for my all important Premier League Predictions. They never arrived. This means that you were forced to wander over to the BBC’s website and take advice from a man with a Scouse accent, a bad sense of humour, and a moustache. I hope that you have recovered fully from the trauma.

This week though, Premier League predictions are back with a bang.

Arsenal vs Tottenham

This derby is a big game, and my prediction is that lots of shouty, red-face men will congregate in North London in order to hurl abuse at each other. It is customary at this point to break out a few interesting stats about the last time Spurs won on Arsenal soil, or the date of the last time Arsenal won by six goals. I couldn’t be bothered with any of that though. You’ll undoubtedly get it off John Motson on Saturday monring during Football Focus.

I can see it now. “Did you know Dan, that the last time Spurs won away at Arsenal was in 1993. There was a steward at the ground that day by the name of David Grouse. I can tell you that his son, also named David Grouse, is a coach for Tottenham’s under 18 team, and he’ll be at the ground today”. John Motson is ’special’.

David Grouse or no David Grouse, with Lennon, Defoe and Modric all injured, Spurs haven’t got a chance.

Verdict: 3-1

Bolton vs Chelsea

The Blues travel to the Reebok on Saturday, and I heard a pundit on TV today describing this fixture as ‘essentially the reverse of the Carling Cup game that these two teams contested in midweek’. Perhaps. However, if this truly is the reverse of the midweek fixture the following things will happen…

Bolton will play slick, free-flowing, passing football, with frontman Kevin Davies bamboozling his opponents with his grace and stepovers. They will win the game 4-0, and none of those goals will come as a result of a big hoof down the pitch. By contrast, Chelsea will stick a wall of players behind the ball, and persist with long aerial balls to their lone front-man Didier Drogba. Drogba will also not dive once in the entire 90 minutes.

Let’s not kid ourselves, it’s not going to be the reverse of that fixture at all.

Verdict: 0-2

Burnley vs Hull

Based on this season’s results Burnley are marginally a better team than Hull. Burnley are at home. Burnley will win.

I tried to write something better than the above, I really did. But, come on, it’s Burnley vs Hull. If you said to a mate ‘I’m off to see Burnley vs Hull this Saturday’, I’m willing to bet that the majority of people would respond simply with ‘Why?!’.

That says it all.

Verdict: 3-2

Everton vs Aston Villa

David Moyes is officially the Anti-Incredible Hulk. As I’m sure you know, when you get The Hulk angry he reacts by ripping his clothes, turning green, and generally creating a lot of noise and mess. By contrast David Moyes this week, in protest to Everton having to play lots of football matches in a time-frame he was unhappy with, kept his clothes on, stayed the same colour, and simply refused to talk.

The silent treatment it is then. Well, if the BBC and the Premier League remember their days in the playground, then surely all they have to do to get him talking again is to pin him down and give him a turbo-noogie. That’d do it.

With Aston Villa still half asleep after their snore-fest with Sunderland in mid-week, and Everton ‘tired’, I think I’ve found this weekend’s 0-0. Hurrah, I knew it was hiding somewhere!

Verdict: 0-0

Fulham vs Liverpool

Bandwagon afficionados will be lumping all of their hard-earned cash on Liverpool this weekend. You see, having beaten Manchester United last weekend there are some people out there (mainly Liverpool fans) who will use the result to paper over some fairly hideous cracks in the Merseyside club’s squad. One result doesn’t change the fact that they still have Lucas in midfield. Neither does it hide the fact that they still have to replace a world-class striker with David Ngog. Oh, and Yossi Benayoun is still a incredibly ugly.

Fulham by contrast, have quietly had a good month. They haven’t lost a game in October in all competitions, and in their last two games played exceptionally well against the big-money stars of Roma and Manchester City. You wouldn’t have known any of that because they’re Fulham. No one really supports Fulham. Or follows them. They’re just that nice club on the river, with the tasty pies, the neutral stand, and a dancing badger as a mascot.

I’m sure Lawro will have expertly found a way of backing Liverpool for this one, but I’m behind the break-dancing badger.

Verdict: 2-1

Manchester United vs Blackburn

If you believe Wigan manager Roberto Martinez’s comments this week, the fourth official would have a hard time stopping Fergie and Big Sam from having one big love-in on the side of the pitch. Fortunately for the man in black’s touchline minion though, Allardyce is still suffering from the remnants of swine flu, after his masterplan of last week back-fired horrendously. He will therefore be in the stand.

This should allow Fergie to concentrate on the game, and use his hands solely for pointing, as he barks his team to a home win.

Verdict: 3-0

Portsmouth vs Wigan

Marlon King walks into a bar…

Ok, ok, jokes aside, this should be quite a fun a game of football. Wigan are looking a really good side lately, with the attacking threat of N’Zogbia and Rodallega really hurting their opponents. Portsmouth are fun to watch for a couple of reasons:

1. They have an evil super-villain sitting in the stands,
2. They have Aruna Dindane up front. After the two sitters he missed against Spurs a couple of weeks ago, I want to see how much closer he can get to the goal without scoring.

Both teams will attack each other. The bloke with the bell will smell, and annoy a vast section of the crowd. Wigan will win.

Verdict: 1-4

Stoke vs Wolves

Mick McCarthy has got a really funny looking head. Has anyone else noticed that? Sure, his voice is taken straight from the hovis adverts, which is funny enough, but I’m sure his head is a portal for another being (like that dead alien in the morgue in Men In Black). Suggestions and lookalikes on a postcard, or sent to http://eddiesfootballblog@hotmail.co.uk.

This game will be rubbish.

Verdict: 1-1

Sunderland vs West Ham

When you’ve just got out of hospital having survived multiple stab wounds to the legs, the last thing you need is to be charged for assault yourself. That’s exactly what happened to Hammers defender Callum Davenport this week, and it’s pretty typical of West Ham’s luck this season. Sitting precariously in the relegation zone, pocket-sized Italian manager Gianfranco Zola will have to use all the hand gestures he can think of to rally his troops for this game because Sunderland, much like Tom Huddlestone at a Pizza Hut buffet, are a force to be reckoned with this season.

Sunderland fan-favourite, captain, and general midfield hatchet-man Lorik Cana this week put down his scythe, and offered a few eerie words of advice to his team-mates. “When you give 100% you always have the respect of the fans”, he snarled, in between moutfuls of raw meat. My guess is that Darren Bent and co. will have more than just the fans to worry about if they lose.

Some say Kaizer Soze was Albanian…

Verdict: 3-1

Birmingham vs Manchester City

New Birmingham owner Carson Yeung has been warned by departing chief David Gold that cutting ticket prices will get the Midlands side relegated. Whilst financially there may be a good degree of truth to that, there is an even stronger argument to suggest that it is in fact a rubbish football team that gets you relegated. And unfortunately Birmingham aren’t very good. The fact that Yeung’s footballing advice will be coming from Steve McManaman is, as those who witnessed his mind-boggling ‘punditry’ on Setanta Sports last season will I’m sure agree, just the icing on a very wobbly looking cake.

Manchester City have suffered a few draws of late, but have Brazilian party-boy Robinho close to fitness which should improve spirits in the camp. Well, until Craig Bellamy hits him with a golf club that is.

Verdict: 0-2

Microsoft Paint Stories Of The Week – Big Sam’s Masterplan

Big Sam: Piggy Tactics

If you follow the Premier League (or Barclays Premier League if you’re being anal, EPL if you’re American, and Premiership if you’re Alan Hansen), you may have heard the news that ‘Big Sam’ Allardyce had one or two problems with his squad last week, prior to their humiliating 5-0 defeat at Chelsea. I know what you’re thinking and, no, it actually didn’t involve El Hadj Diouf. No, in fact, last week the main problem facing the Rovers boss was dun dun duuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnn – swine flu!

Yes, swine flu. The killer virus that the Sun predicted would kill us all and result in flesh eating pigs rising up to rule planet Earth (or something along those lines. If i’m honest, I got distracted by Page 3 and didn’t properly read it). Now, as shocking as it may sound to Sky Sports News, whose little yellow ticker jumped with excitment upon hearing the story coming out of the Lancashire club, footballers really are humans after all. And humans, judging by the events of the past 12 months or so, really can contract pig flu. Big news undoubtedly.

The question that should’ve been on everyone’s lips though, and thankfully was on the lips of us over at Eddie’s Football Blog, was ‘how did swine flu suddenly spring up in the Blackburn camp?’. Once again we sent our reporter to investigate.

This time calling on our vast knowledge of time travel (acquired by watching the ‘Back To The Furture’ trilogy a couple of times), we used a Delorian, a few flashy wires, a radio alarm clock, and a shouty old man with beady eyes (who we found outside Sainsburys talking to a bin) to send our man back to last Friday night, the day before Blackburn’s game with Chelsea. Here’s what he discovered.

The pictoral evidence is conclusive. Sam Allardyce had planned it all along. He would make sure that his entire squad were so ill, that the Premier League would have no choice but to cancel their game with Chelsea. Just like his tactics, the beauty of this plan was in its simplicity and, with their six goal whalloping by Arsenal still fresh in the memory, the Blackburn gaffer couldn’t risk morale being damaged by yet another humiliating defeat.

So on Thursday he got to work, sending his chief scout to Mexico and tasking him with the job of finding finding the ‘filthiest most disease-infected pig in the country’. After a brief mis-understanding which led to a holidaying Katie Price being bundled into a potato sack, Big Sam’s scout tracked down a pig farm so filthy that even Jermain Defoe would have turned his nose up at it. Nonetheless, ‘Pablito’ the pig was adquired, promptly dressed up as Paul Robinson (as not to raise suspicion, but also to explain his hearty appetite), and then plonked on a plane bound for London.

Meeting his new oinky accomplice at Heathrow on Friday (the day before the game), Big Sam had it all planned out. He would wait until all the players were asleep at the hotel, and then take Pablito from bed to bed, infecting each player with a solitary lick to the face. By morning they would all be far too ill to play, and the game would be cancelled. It was fool-proof. He even practiced with Pablito in the afternoon, sticking pictures of every Blackburn player on the end of a Nobbly Bobbly ice lolly. The training was such a success that even the El Hadj Diouf lolly got a lick.

Come nightfall, clad in his maroon satin PJs, Big Sam was ready. This was going to work.

Now, you’ll see in the picture that the players appear to be sharing a room. Why though? Well, Rovers chairman John Williams, a man so careful at watching his pennies that Pascal Chimbonda can be counted as one of his major summer signings, wanted it that way. When he was told of the price of each room at the fancy Chelsea Village hotel, he exclaimed (presumably in a northern accent, whilst sipping a warm pint of mead) “It’s a bloody outrage! They can all bloody well share!”. And so they bloody well did (the fact that this arrangement conveniently facilitates this particular version of events is just one big coincidence. Honest.).

Anyway, the image captures a crucial moment in our tale. Having sucessfully infected David Dunn with the virus, Big Sam moves confidently onto his second victim – ogre and part-time battering ram, Christopher Samba. Pablito, although clearly hesitant of the potential volcanic reaction caused by waking a sleeping beast of this magnitude, overcomes his fear and manages to infect his second victim. Big Sam rubs his hands in glee. His plan is definitely going to work.

Then all of a sudden there’s a beeping noise, a flick of a lightswitch, and the sound of hesitant and confused Norwegian voice. “Er… boss? Er… what are you doing down there boss?”. Big Sam looks up to see a perplexed Morten Gamst Pedersen standing over him. Shit. He’s been rumbled.

You see, in the melee of ordering a disease-infected Mexican pig, dressing it up like Paul Robinson, and then hatching a masterplan to sneak around under the cover of darkness infecting his entire squad, Big Sam Allardyce forgot one crucial fact. A fact that condemned his masterplan to failure from the minute it was hatched… Morten Gamst Pedersen checks his hair in the mirror every 15 minutes. Without fail. At night he even sets his alarm clock to go off every quarter of an hour to wake him up. Just to be sure.

Poor old Big Sam. Blackburn now would have to play their game against the league leaders for sure. He’d only infected two players with swine flu and, to rub salt in the wound, those two players were his best midfielder and his best defender/striker/battering ram. In fact he’d even picked the bug up himself, after Pablito mistook him for a Nobbly Bobbly.

Unsurprisingly it finished 5-0 to Chelsea. The word on the street is that Big Sam has a new masterplan up his sleeve for when he recovers. It involves a pair of clippers, a Norwegian, and has to be completed in under 15 minutes.

A Face I’d Like To Smack – Joey Barton

Barton: Nasty piece of work

Resisting the temptation to write a ‘humourous’ quip about a beach ball, and how everyone in Liverpool is looking for a young man with a blurred-out face, I have instead decided to share with you my dislike for Premier League (now Championship) ‘bad-boy’ Joey Barton.

The thing is, I don’t actually have a problem with the idea of the ‘bad-boy’ footballer. Players such as Cantona, Ince, Keane, Vieira and co. were always towing the line between what is acceptable on the field, and what is not. And when they occasionally did cross the line, they were punished for it.

However, with the exception of Keane’s horror-tackle on Alf Inge Haaland, Vieira’s penchant for gobbing, and Cantona’s kung-fu kick (which I bloody loved!) these were the guys that set the example for the rest of the team to look up to. They were characters. Hated losing. Their motto appeared to be ‘Win at all costs, and if you get the odd red card along the way, that’s just a sacrifice you have to make’.

Like I said, I’m fine with that. I think the main problem Joey Barton has is that he desperately wants people to respect him in the same way that the aforementioned players were respected, but he appears to have missed the crucial point. Those players were all fantastic footballers first, and ‘hardman’ characters second. Joey Barton just wants to be a hardman.

He isn’t hard though. Earlier I read through all of the incidents that he has been involved in during his career, and they all read like a rap sheet of a scared little boy – stabbing a cigar out in someone’s face at a party, kicking a team-mate in the head in training, attacking a 16 year old boy whilst on tour with Man City, and then viciously attacking another 16 year old boy on a night out in Liverpool.

Add to that his complete disrespect for the majority of authority figures at his various clubs, and basically you have just one aggressive and very nasty overgrown brat. The attack on the Liverpool teenager, that earned him a six month jail sentence, can be seen below. It’s so incredibly mindless, it may as well have been lifted from depressing satellite TV show ‘Booze Britain’.

I don’t buy into the sob stories either, the people that say ‘oh, but he came from a rough council estate in Liverpool’. So did Wayne Rooney. However, Rooney learned very quickly from the advice given to him by his manager that he could channel all that aggression to his boots, and just look where that has got him. Rage channelled into his boots is certainly behind the best goal of his Manchester United career. Barton’s problem is that he just doesn’t want to listen. He’s convinced himself that everyone else is wrong, and he is right. The world is against him, and he’s going to fight it.

It’s pathetic. He’s had the chance that thousands of kids with similar backgrounds would love. An opportunity that can positively change your life, and the lives of everyone else around you. At this point I’d say that he needs to grow up and start smelling reality. However, the reality is that he needed to grow up three years ago. Now, he’s like the boy who cried wolf, no-one believes that he wants to change his ways. He’s made the claim far too many times.

I don’t think anyone out there can argue that Barton needs a big smack around his pea-brained little head. In fact, I’m abandoning the Lee Bowyer Smackablomator this week, and have instead rated his smackability myself. This is for Jamie Tandy, Ousmane Dabo, Dickson Etuhu, Gabriel Agbonlahor, Alan Shearer, the two boys he assaulted, and pretty much everyone else he’s attacked or offended in such a heinously cowardly fashion over the years.

Joey Barton. Please take your smacking, and go away. For good.

Premier League Predictions – 16th October

Meg Predicts: "Sunderland three, Liverpool twoooooo"

Seeing as Mr.T has not yet driven his tank through my garden wall, and as I have not yet spotted any Snickers bars scattered around on my lawn, I can only assume that the mowhawked one approved of my report this week on what referee Alan Wiley has been up to during the international break.

This has put me in a good mood. As a result though, I am presented with a problem. You see, I had planned to write a bit of a tirade about Premier League scuffle-addict, and Dennis The Menace wannabe, Joey Barton. I was going to have a little rant, rate his face using the Lee Bowyer Smackablomator, and then enjoy the endorphins that my brain always kindly releases after a good old character assasination of an annoying footballer. In my current mood though, there is no way that I could do the man justice, so I’ve had to find something else to occupy myself.

Premier League predicitions aren’t that hard to write. Ask Mark Lawrenson. The basic rule is that if it’s a game between two teams quite evenly matched, it’ll either be a 2-1 win to the home side or some form of relatively low-scoring draw (e.g. 1-1. Although I imagine that providing you with an example of a low-scoring draw is fairly unnecessary). If you have a strong side against a weak side, it’s 3 or 4-0 if the strong side is at home, and 0-2 if they are playing away on a cart-track of a pitch in Wigan. Throw in one nil-nil bore each week, and you’re done.

Oh. Wait. The only other rule is that, if you’re Mark Lawrenson (if, on looking in the mirror, this does appear to be the case, please seek medical attention), you MUST at all costs write an undescribably biased prediction in favour of Liverpool.

Right, so the rules out of the way with, let’s have a look at what we’ve got in store for us this weekend:

Arsenal vs Birmingham

In their last game, Arsenal gave Blackburn the sort of beating that may potentially have forced Big Sam into reconsidering the ‘play a centre-half up front, and lump it long’ approach. That can only be good for the Premier League. Birmingham should expect to endure the same treatment from The Gunners this weekend too.

Paddy Power are already taking bets on the exact minute that Alex McLeish loses his voice from shouting at his players too much. You can also put a wager on the exact shade of red produced by the capillaries on the face of the hapless Scotsman, as he flails his arms about in his technical area in an attempt to get Barry Ferguson to track Cesc Fabregas, instead of making rude gestures behind the referee’s back.

Verdict: 4-0

Aston Villa vs Chelsea

Carlo Ancelotti this week did two things. He got a lap dance on Italian television, and then he compared John Terry to Paulo Maldini. I can see what he means. Both are loyal to their clubs, both are fighters on the pitch, both are defenders, and both are captains (or have been). That’s where Ancelotti’s comparison stops though.

You see, where Maldini has the quintessential character of the Italian footballer – intelligent, softly spoken, stylish, and good looking, Terry, by contrast, is guts-and-glory, loud, stupid, and has a face that wouldn’t be out of place in a Wheterspoons on a Saturday night. Surely I haven’t just described the quintessential English footballer? Oh… right.

Maybe Ancelotti had a point after all. All I know is that, come Saturday, points are not what Villa will be getting.

Verdict: 0-2

Everton vs Wolves

The thing is, Everton vs Wolves is not a very interesting game to talk about. If Everton were going to play against a pack of 11 wolves, all dressed up in football kits and little boots for their paws, then trust me I’d be all over the review of this game like beans on toast. The reality of it all though is that there will be no wolves. No stopping to bay at the moon. No targeting of the smallest Everton player and feasting on him at half time. Nothing.

All there will be is 11 men in gold shirts playing 11 men in blue shirts. The men in blue shirts will procede to score three goals, with the men in gold scoring none. Barring a mild attack of tourettes from Toffees goalkeeper Tim Howard, nothing exciting will happen. However if, like me, you would like English football to be as speicies-diverse as it is ethnically diverse, then how about we all write a stern letter to the Premier League? Word on the street is that Sheffield Wednesday are also interested in the idea.

Verdict: 3-0

Manchester United vs Bolton

He’s just like Dom Joly, that Fergie, isn’t he? Dom Joly, just without the oversized props.

Not content with angering the referee’s governing body last week, with his comments about podgy lard-ass Alan Wiley, professional prankster Sir Alex Ferguson has used the international break to try to wind-up Belgian club Standard Liege. Whilst everyone else’s postman was down the pub enjoying a good old strike, it seems that the United manager’s postie crossed the picket line, because Belgian wonderkid Steven Defour recieved a letter from the Scot this week.

At the letter’s heart Sir Alex expressed his best wishes to the injured playmaker, and reminded the boy that he was in his thoughts. I’m not sure how i’d feel if an old Scottish man wrote me a letter to tell me that I was ‘in his thoughts’, but Defour was supposedly delighted. Whether his club feel the same is another thing.

Verdict: 3-0

Portsmouth vs Tottenham

It’s impossible to write this one without asking the following question. Why did Harry Redknapp conduct a football-based interview in an aquarium on Wednesday afternoon? I think I have the answer.

As we all know, Baron Silas Greenback is now in one of the comfy boardroom chairs at Portsmouth. Greenback would clearly like to start his career as Pompey Director of Football with a win, so what does he do? Instead of sending exploding custard to every single one of the Tottenham players on the morning of the game, he decides to invite the manager of the opposition (rumoured to be partial to a backhander) into his secret evil lair. All secret evil lairs are based in locations largely covered by water, that’s just a fact, so what better place to conduct your business than a secret room in Portsmouth’s famous Blue Reef aquarium. Did Harry take the bung though?

Funnily enough, he did seem to talk awfully highly of his old club in the interview…

Verdict: 2-1

Stoke vs West Ham

This one’s the nil-nil.

Verdict: 0-0

Sunderland vs Liverpool

Sunderland gave Manchester United a real scare last time out. In fact it was Ben Foster who probably gave United the bigger scare, but I digress. The Mackems are on good form and, for Darren Bent, comparisons with Harry Redknapp’s wife Sandra have well and truly been consigned to his Twitter history. One problem I still have with Bent though, and I’ve mentioned this before, is the following… why does he have to wear headphones all the time, even when he’s being interviewed post-match? My only assumption is that he must be learning a language. If so, good luck to you Darren. Sorry, I mean ‘buena suerte’ (if in fact you are learning Spanish, or even reading this at all).

Liverpool have lost their last couple of games, and now have an injury to Steven Gerrard to cope with. Yossi Benayoun will feature for the reds, but is unlikely to have become any easier on the eye during the international break.

Verdict: 3-2

Blackburn vs Burnley

One game. Every weekend in the Premier League we get one of these. The sort of game that is less of a game, and more of an example of how to have a fight within the rules of football. So, lots of shoulder charging, slide tackling, clashes of heads, that sort of thing. There won’t be any football played. It’ll be an absolutely horrible spectacle. However, after 8 pints this game is the footballing equivalent of the girl accross the bar that suddenly got attractive, even though she definitely wasn’t when you sat down five hours ago.

Abnormaly appealing.

Verdict: 1-1

Wigan vs Man City

Alan Wiley is back and, as revealed on Eddie’s Football Blog, has spent the international break punching dead cow carcasses, running up steps, doing push-ups in the snow, and generally finding obscure ‘Rocky’ influenced techniques to get himself into top conditon in the limited timeframe he had at his disposal between Premier League fixtures. Will he now be able to out-sprint Craig Bellamy though? Probably not.

In fact, I don’t think anyone can out-sprint Craig Bellamy at the moment. In the sort of form the Welshman is in, I can see his pace being the difference between the two sides. His unique ability to get on everyone’s nerves will be another difference between the two sides.

Verdict: 1-2

Fulham vs Hull

Family club vs Family club, taking place in the only stadium in the Premier League to have a section for ‘neutral fans’. There are probably still some tickets available, why not buy a couple? Take the kids. Buy some candy floss. Play poo-sticks on Putney Bridge, and have a jolly nice Monday evening. The football won’t be great, but a giant badger wearing a Fulham shirt will do something funny at half time. The kids will like that.

Verdict: 1-1

Microsoft Paint Stories Of The Week – Ferguson vs Wiley

"Oi Wiley, drop the pie and get down the gym you fat knacker!"

As I started writing this, a small advert promoting a one of the nation’s favourite chocolate bars popped up in the corner of my screen to tell me that ‘Mr.T is watching Britain’. Quite how the bechained former A-Team aviophobic has achieved an omnipresent state, I haven’t the foggiest, but the pressure to make this piece entertaining has certainly increased ten-fold as a result. The last thing I need is a washed-up 80s actor/boxer/’style icon’ driving a tank onto my lawn, pelting me with Snickers bars, and telling me to get some nuts.

So for both your benefit, and for Mr T’s, let me get to the point of the latest ludicrously inaccurate take on one of football’s most popular stories of the last seven days. This week I have focussed my attentions on mild-mannered Scot, Sir Alex Ferguson, and his ’spat’ with olympic athlete (and Premier League referee) Sir Alan Wiley. I used inverted commas on the word ’spat’ (see I did it again) because I’m not sure that it really was a ’spat’.

To me, ’spat’ is a word that is ONLY allowed to appear in tabloid newspapers (I assume Murdoch has bought the rights to it), and must be applied when referring to a tenuously interesting account of two grown men publically slagging each other off. In this case however, it was just old whiskey-nose who was doing the slagging off, as he went on air to question the olympian’s fitness and, therefore, ability to referee a football match.

Examining the aftermath of this story, Eddie’s Football Blog’s reporter in the field this week covertly followed Alan Wiley, and witnessed first-hand his reaction to such harsh criticism from the United boss. Not having a camera to hand, and unable to use Photoshop, our reporter has presented me with his findings with all the style that Microsoft Paint brings to the table.

Clearly drawing inspiration from Rocky (the film, not the buscuit), Alan Wiley is a man on a mission. To prove his accuser wrong he has sought the help of the only man who knows how, head-honcho of the Officials’ Union Alan Leighton. Leighton has just the plan to force the United boss into eating his scotch-soaked words. He will take this meagre olympian and turn him into the fittest and greatest referee the world has ever seen. A mix between Pierluigi Collina and Sally Gunnell if you will, although obviously not as scary looking as that particular combination might sound.

The picture depicts a key moment in the story and, just like a grainy camera-phone picture of David Bentley snorting cocaine in a Spanish nightclub, is our first glimpse into what our protagonist has been up to during the international break. Leighton who, just like Rocky’s friend in the film, appears to inexplicably own a meat-packing plant, has our man Alan punching the carcass of an 1000lb dead cow in a bid to strengthen him up and build the character necessary to simply switch off the hairdyer, unplug it, and tuck it away in the drawer. Metaphorically speaking of course, which is why you can see a portrait of the red-faced United manager hanging on the wall, not a Remington Airwave 500. It’s all the motivation our man in black needs.

My anticipation of Wiley’s re-appearance this weekend as a hulking great powerhouse of a ref is growing. If the Rocky films have taught us anything, it is almost certainly as follows; ‘Use unconventional methods of training exceptionally hard for a short period of time, making sure that there is a cheesy 1980s soundtrack at the heart of it all, and you will be able to master anything’. I therefore fully expect that his work this week will pay off.

That being the case, what sweet justice it would be for Wiley if, in the 90th minute of United’s final game of the season, the referee called upon his newfound fitness levels to keep up with the rapid speed of James Beattie, and be there on the spot to witness and award a clear penalty to Stoke. Beattie converts the spot kick. United lose. Chelsea are giftied the title.

Fergie, be careful what you wish for.

If you want to get involved and do your own Microsoft Paint Story Of The Week, then draw it in Paint, and send it to me at eddiesfootballblog@hotmail.co.uk. If it is funny it doesn’t matter how crap the drawing is (the crapper the better actually!), and it will make it on the site! No Photoshop!

International Pride For The Wrong Reasons

Lennon: That's my boy!

Trying to write an article about a 0-1 defeat in the Ukraine is easy.

The press, perpetuating the theory that they exist only to make a mountain out of a molehill (quite literally when referring to Paul Robinson’s experience in Zagreb), will undoubtedly aim to point the finger at a someone. Generally, this player/referee/manager won’t deserve the level criticism aimed at them, but the airwaves of Talk Sport will still be rammed full of supporters reacting with true Daily Mail style outrage.

Turn it on now. I’m willing to bet you that an angry man from Dagenham is struggling to get his point across about why Rio Ferdinand should be dropped. Jason Cundy will then inexplicably agree with him.

However, I’m not one to stoke the fire. In fact, I want to talk about something completely unrelated to yesterday’s result because, yesterday, a funny thing happened. I found myself losing interest in the game after 15 minutes. Why? Not because we had gone down to 10 men. No, I lost interest because the one player representing my club had left the field of play.

Maybe it’s different for the fans of Manchester United and Chelsea who have a number of their players regularly making the starting line-up at international level, or maybe they feel it too. All I know is that, as a Spurs fan, whenever one of our players takes to the field in the white of my country, I suddenly become the proud father-figure standing on the touchline, nudging my neighbour and exclaiming “That’s my boy!”.

When Aaron Lennon bamboozled the Croatians, and turned in a Man Of The Match perfomace in England’s recent 5-1 victory at Wembley, I wasn’t sure if I was proud of my club for having the best player on the pitch, or just proud of my country’s achievement. That night I think it was a mixture of the two, but yesterday’s match probably proved to me that, in meaningless international games, my eye is more on the individuals than on the team as a whole.

This of course opens up a wider Club vs Country debate. Do I love Spurs more than I love England? In a game that mean nothing, yes, I probably do. The neutral would undoubtedly claim that this is terribly unpatriotic, and that I should be hung, drawn and quartered for such treason. However, the neutral doesn’t have engrained within them the 9 month turmoil of the loyal football supporter and, in an era when player loyalty is at an all-time low, Premier League fans (certainly of clubs outside of the top four) want to cling on to every moment their stars have in the limelight. They don’t tend to last long if you have a player of real quality, as Spurs fans only know too well.

I think that we can safely say that Eriksson tarnished the integrity of England friendlies for us all and, let’s face it, World Cup qualifiers when you’ve already qualified suffer from the same stigma (especially if you are forced into gambling just to be able to watch it). It’s just another annoying little break, when all you really want to do is have a pie in your hand, a spring in your step, and be ready to get behind your club’s players once more. However, if one of your boys has broken into the national team and proudly pulled on the shirt of your country, it becomes a different ball-game entirely. Suddenly a meaningless game has meaning.

On Saturday, when our Postman Pat lookalike was forced into taking my boy off after 15 minutes, and I suddenly found myself on BBC One watching a re-run of Diagnosis Murder, I could hear those Premier League neutrals sharpening their guillotines for my heresy.

Tell me, fellow Premier League fans, am I the only one who is committing this crime?

Greenback Back To Save The Blues

Grant: Back in the big-time

I’ll admit it, whilst trying to think of something witty to open an article about Baron Silas Greenback’s (aka Avram Grant) return to English football, I got a bit lost in the statistics of the Danger Mouse villain’s record as manager at Chelsea. This is why we’ve ended up with a) a rubbish title to the article, and b) an opening paragraph explaining why it isn’t making you laugh. I can only apologise for this.

The thing is though, after trawling through various statistics about wins, losses, draws and other stuff that people with no interest in football would rather burn their eyeballs than bare witness to, it appears that Greenback wasn’t actually a bad gaffer. In fact, he was quite good.

In the 32 Premier League games which Abramovich allowed him to sit in the hot-seat (whilst stroking his fluffy white caterpillar, and trying to find the exact post-box on Baker Street that his arch-nemesis had set up camp in) his record was as follows; 23 wins, 7 draws, and only 2 losses. That translates as 76 Premier League points, which is certainly a very good haul to ask your evil crow-henchman to gather up and put in your dungeon.

In fact, if you take his average points per game (at this point I’m aware that I will have lost a few of you who don’t care much for statistics. I expected this, which is why I put a picture on the right to distract you), and multiply it by the 38 games that he would’ve had at his disposal, had Chelsea decided to fire Mourinho before the start of the season, The Blues would’ve collected over 90 points that season.

Manchester United won the league with 87 points so, yes, I am essientially saying that The Baron would’ve won the Premier League at his first attempt. Factor in a Carling Cup Final (stop sarcastically saying “ooooooh!” back there!), and being a penalty-competent centre-half’s width away from winning his Russian owner’s very own holy grail, the Champions League, and future historians will be scratching their heads as to why this man was given his P45. Especially when he’s been balancing football management with world domintation. It’s a tough juggling act to one minute have to send tins of exploding custard to every address on the planet, and then the next have to face the media after a 1-1 draw with Birmingham. Very tough indeed.

Greenback: Hell-bent on world domination

That was the problem with Greenback though. Like most evil super-villians, he was media shy, and he also looked like a super-villain should look. All toady and green, with a wheezy little laugh. Those very same historians will soon understand the reason for his dismissal when they see a picture of him. They’ll realise that he never stood a chance because Joe Public is never going to want an evil toad-creature as manager of his club.

Evil toad-creatures are simply not cool or funny enough when interviewed by Garth Crooks on Match Of The Day. As a result, these fans will put completely unrealistic performace expectations onto the manager’s shoulders. So will his chairman. Expectations so high, that all of the achievements stated above will simply not be good enough. If Greenback had been a man with nicely combed hair, who answered every question from Garth with a witty quip about a man walking into a bar, I’m sure those acheivements would at least have earnt him another season at the helm.

His demise was inevitable though, and is probably what drove him to steal a growth serum to create giant chickens that could take over the world. Probably.

Thankfully though, The Baron will have to reign in all that harebrained plotting now, as yesterday afternoon he accepted the Director Of Football job at Portsmouth. Just like his last job, this appears to be an interim position. On this occasion, however, it’s an interim position in the boardroom, and it looks very much like it’ll be Paul Hart who will end up biting the bullet. This should pave the way for Greenback, ironically for a super-villain, to step in and save the day.

Pompey fans, if it does happen, and you switch on the TV to see Greenback stroking his caterpillar whilst giving monosyllabic answers to Geoff Shreeves, in a press conference that he has rigged to interrupt every channel in the world, don’t dispair. He may not be pretty, and may occasionally be side-tracked by plans to destroy all the world’s signposts, but you can’t argue with his record during his last stint in the Premier League.

Plus, he looks like a cartoon character. So just think of all the songs you could make up.

Microsoft Paint Stories Of The Week – Harry Redknapp

Redknapp: T'riffic bet for the chop

In this week’s unerringly irreverent and complicatedly far fetched take on a story from the last seven days in the world of football, we look at old Twitcher ‘imself – ‘Appy ‘Arry.

Two things. Firstly, I promise that the next ‘episode’ will not be another Spurs-based adventure into the depths of my imagination (I’m sorry but this story was too good not to feature). Secondly, I promise that not every word beginning with ‘H’ will be abbreviated as if the ‘Droopy’ lookalike was writing this himself. Most will though.

Anyway, if you are a betting man you would’ve noticed some strange goings on last week. As all football fans know, the annual ‘Managerial Sack Race’ this season ‘as been firmly between ‘Yougottafeelsorryforhim’ Pompey manager Paul Hart, and Sam Allardyce prodigé (and bluetooth headset afficionado) Phil Brown of ‘ull City.

For the benefit of those reading this article (mainly my girlfriend) who are now trying to picture two grown men at a charity sports day ‘opping along in an old potato sack, I’m sorry to ruin the wonderful image you’ve mustered up there, but i’m talking more along the lines of P45 forms.

That being the case then, Paddy Power bookmakers were mystified last week as, due to a sudden increase in the amount of punters backing ‘arry Redknapp to be the first managerial casualty in the Premier League, they found themselves slashing ‘is odds for the chop. People still kept on throwing their money at the bet though, so much so that by lunchtime on Friday all bets were off. Old droopy chops had leapt ahead of ‘art and Brown, and was starting to think of the egg and spoon race at 3pm.

Why all the money on old Redders though?

Well, the gossip-hounds on the internet suddenly all became experts on Friday, claiming to know all about it. With screennames like ‘LoverLover6969′, they queued up to spread the juicy gossip they had undoubtedly just got from the man himself. They cited tax reasons. The Inland Revenue were onto Sandra’s Swiss Bank account, they claimed. A rambler in the Himalayas had perhaps found one of ‘arry’s brown paper bags of Romanian notes from the Florin Raducioiu deal, ‘idden in a yeti’s cave. Then they ‘revealed’ that the police and all the associated press were all on their way to White Hart Lane, where Redknapp was to be cuffed and jailed.

Blimey. With such trustworthy experts on the pulse of the story, what would ‘appen next? What would the Tottenham manager do? In an exclusive to Eddie’s Football Blog, the story of the week is seen in a new light below.

As you can see, where ‘arrison Ford has gone before ‘im, ‘Arry has gone on the run from the law. He’s done well too, and despite his conspicious choice of vehicle (the yellow Robin Reliant that he lent to the set of Only Fools And Horses all those years ago), he has made it over the Atlantic to the States.

Unfortunately for old Twitcher though, Darren Bent and Lord Triesman are ‘ot on his ‘eels. Both men want to bring our hero to justice – Triesman on a mission to rid the world of corruption (in football), and Bent seeking vengeance for his wife (Redknapp’s wife that is, and the comment he made about her being a better striker than the Sunderland ‘itman). They will stop at nothing.

You’ll see that the image captures a crucial moment. The Robin Reliant ‘as chirped its last breath of fuel only miles from the Mexican border, with salvation (and perhaps another opportunity to keep Giovani Dos Santos on the bench, as Mexican national team coach) within reach.

With Triesman and Bent gaining on him, ‘arry has no option but to pull out the trump card (from the boot) – man mountain Tom ‘uddlestone, who simply lifts the three wheeler off the ground and dashes (ok, slowly ambles, the concept of Thudd ‘dashing’ anywhere is just silly) for the border.

Will ‘arry make it? Will Triesman stamp out corruption in football? Will Darren Bent wear headphones in his next television interview? Will Tom Huddlestone find the McDonalds in Mexico City?

Comments below!

If you want to get involved and do your own Microsoft Paint Story Of The Week, then draw it in Paint, and send it to me at eddiesfootballblog@hotmail.co.uk. If it is funny it doesn’t matter how crap the drawing is (the crapper the better actually!), and it will make it on the site! No Photoshop!

Microsoft Paint Stories Of The Week – Gareth Bale

This week sees the launch of a new series on Eddie’s Football Blog. Like the ‘Ultimate Elevens’ series, ‘Microsoft Paint Stories Of The Week’ is more of an invitation to everyone who reads my blog* to do something fun and football related that isn’t the Soccer Saturday drinking game (glasses down back there).

Basically all you’ve got to do is take any story from the last few weeks of football news, and bring it to life via the magic of Microsoft Paint! It’s that easy, and they can be as crap as you like. In fact, the crapper the better. Send your ‘art’ through to me at eddiesfootballblog@hotmail.co.uk and I will put the funniest ones up on the site. Simples.

My first effort is an homage to Gareth Bale.

If you aren’t one for stats, or if you aren’t one for young Welsh fullbacks with immaculately sculpted hair, you may not have known that Bale went into Tottenham’s game with Burnley last Saturday having never won a game in the Premier League in 24 attempts. He was Tottenham’s unlucky charm, a poisoned chalice, an upside-down horse shoe, an… ok, you get the picture.

Anyway in a painting that throws a unique light on the situation, here he is celebrating Spurs’ 5-0 triumph, and finally smashing the monkey on his back (metaphorically speaking of course. Just so we’re clear, Gareth Bale did not kill a primate on Saturday afternoon).

You will also see that five of 1970’s camp disco group The Village People have turned up to cheer him on. They are big fans of Gareth, and especially like his hair. Actually, it appears that the Naval Officer loves Gareth’s coiffeured locks so much, that he has run onto the pitch (skillfully evading the steward’s grasp) and presented the man of the hour with a novelty comb. Marvellous.

Leave any advice for Gareth below.

If you want to get involved and do your own Microsoft Paint Story Of The Week, then draw it in Paint, and send it to me at eddiesfootballblog@hotmail.co.uk. As I said, if it is funny it doesn’t matter how crap the drawing is, and it will make it on the site! No Photoshop!

*Lest I forget, the invitation to draw your own ‘Story Of The Week’ also goes out to all of you lovely people who inexplicably ended up on Eddie’s Football Blog by typing strange word combinations such as ‘ugly boy’ and ‘Schweinsteiger Pepperami’ into Google. Whenever I look at the web search terms people have used to get here, there is always at least one person who clearly never intended to end up on the site. And if you are one of those people, welcome.

However, if you are the person who got here by searching for ‘bi-fi porn’, apologies, but I’m struggling to see how Eddie’s Football Blog can satisfy your needs!

A Face I’d Like To Smack – Marco Materazzi

Materazzi: Head-butts welcome

It’s pretty well established that Marco Materazzi is an irritant. When the best player in the world would prefer to deck you than stay on the pitch to try to win a World Cup Final, you’ve got to have a pretty special talent for rubbing people up the wrong way. I’ve only ever watched him play in televised matches, but quite how the screen of my aeging Grundig gogglebox has survived the various items I’ve launched at the Italian, I really don’t know. The absence of a plie of bricks next to my sofa perhaps?

Anyway, why is he so annoying? Last week Didier Drogba threw himself theatrically into this series, along with a smorgasbord of expressions likely to get even the calmest of Anglican vicars reaching for their crucafix of wrath. That said though, whilst Drogba is undoubtedly a five star toss-pot, he is a very good footballer, and therefore I’m happy to allow him a small percentage of his sizeable arrogance. The problem we all have with Materazzi is that no-one ever really finishes a rant about him with ‘…but he is one hell of a player’.

Because he isn’t. Actually, it’s common knowledge that if you took away the Italian’s skills as a wind up merchant, and a level of aggression only similar to the rage-monkeys in 28 Days Later, he’d be, well, a bit rubbish. Ok, he’s useful at set-pieces, but so was Ramon Vega.

There are times when he even gets under the skin of his team mates. Zlatan Ibrahimovich, when asked why Inter lost to Liverpool in the Champions League a couple of seasons ago brilliantly replied, ‘Why did we lose? Why don’t you ask Materazzi’. The reporter didn’t need to bother, that said it all.

The level of regard with which he appears to hold himself is therefore unfounded, and therein lies the bugbear most of us share when it comes to Marco Materazzi. He prances about the pitch on the wind-up for 90 minutes, putting in the sort of career-ending mis-timed tackles that would make even Roy Keane wince, and then he has the sheer cheek to go and pick up a World Cup winners medal. It really makes you want to hurt him.

I mean, just look at some of these tackles (Advisory Warning: Mute the video to avoid the crappy Euro-Pop soundtrack the creator of this compilation has inexplicably chosen!)…

Anyway, I’d like to continue this rather therapeutic release of pent-up rage, as it has been far more useful (and less expensive) than throwing bricks at my television. However, I feel that I’ve wandered again into the realms of missing the point of my angry warbling. How smackable is his face? I have fed an image of his mug through the ever-reliable ‘Lee Bowyer Smackablomator’, and it has spat out the following result. I feel it’s let him off lightly. What do you think?