Jack and Rose fail to renew their Rovers season tickets

While Sam Allardyce will be acquainting himself with the home dugout at Ewood Park this weekend, Paul Ince will perhaps be in hiding, doing a spot of shopping in Woolies.

Blackburn Rovers parted company with the Premiership’s first Black English manager on Tuesday and replaced him with England’s whitest manager on Wednesday.

But while the debate about whether Ince got a fair crack of the whip does the rounds, it is perhaps irrelevant as relegation for a club like Blackburn would be financially disastrous.

The brand the Premier League has created makes it near on impossible for young British managers and players to develop themselves in front of the watching billions and blood thirsty moneymen.

Gareth Southgate has weathered the storm and must be applauded by mixing foreign players with an impressive academy pool.

For Ince, bringing in a League Two journeyman in Keith Andrews may have been an indication that the young Rovers were not to be trusted.

But that cannot be the reason for his failure; inexperience, the lack of investment in a replacement for David Bentley, no resolution being found to defensive frailties and a distinct shortage of creativity can all be lamented for the team taking only three points from the last thirty three.

It seems to me Ince suffered from the impending end of the Mark Hughes era.

Sparky left to join Manchester City knowing many of his over performing stars were beginning to seek moves to bigger, more attractive clubs.

If this were the Titanic, Hughes could not be compared to the admirable Captain Smith. Instead he would have fixed up his grey bouffant and donned a dress in a gallant attempt to steal the spots of women and children on one of the lifeboats before navigating it straight to Eastlands.

But now it is Big Sam who faces the gargantuan task of keeping Rovers in the Premier League.

One of the few men to ever pull off the moustache, Allardyce will be looking to have the sort of impact Harry Redknapp has had at Spurs.

The worrying thing is he definitely has the ability. An inferior tactical nouse to any of managers at clubs near the bottom, Sam knows how to play against and grind out results against most opposition.

He’s also an expert at picking up a bargain in the transfer window.

If he can inspire his team of confidence struggling fellows to survival then it may save them the embarrassment of being bypassed by Burnley next season.

Bottom at Christmas

Today’s headline isn’t a reference to Dale Winton’s letter to Santa but to the curse that generally means relegation for whichever club is at the foot of the Premiership table come 25th December.

Only West Brom’s heroics in the 2004/05 season have broken the trend in this frightening statistic since the league’s formation in 1992.

With two games to go and six points to play for before the big day, at least three or four clubs will be praying they can yank themselves away from the bottom.

The contenders for this kiss of death are West Brom, Blackburn Rovers, Sunderland and Newcastle.

All four teams have different reasons behind their struggle and are all finding it difficult to pick up points in what has become an incredibly difficult league.

Starting at the bottom we have West Brom, a team promoted from the Championship last season who were renowned for their neat passing football.

The Baggies seem to have kept their philosophy of getting the ball down on floor which may be behind their accumulation of just twelve points.

The Premiership possesses many teams that play excellent football which makes it difficult for them to compete.

The millions of pounds it takes to accumulate a top flight strike force possibly isn’t worth the gamble for a team good enough to come straight back up if they find themselves in the bottom three come May.

Although if they show some of their “Great Escape” spirit of 2005 it could make their final fixture against Blackburn a very interesting one.

And so we come to Ewood Park.

A difficult one to evaluate not only because of the intense hatred and loathing any Burnley fan has for Rovers but also because working for a radio station local to Blackburn I spend some of my time covering them.

During this run, I have joyfully made my way to the Brockhall training ground to hear countless excuses for their inability to win.

It takes some restraint not to laugh, shout “your shit” or break into a chorus of “No Nay Never”, the Burnley version of course.

It’s not that I want Ince to fail, a boyhood hero of mine as a player and a genuinely honest and decent bloke but that rivalry means if he is to become the fall guy in Rover’s descent then so be it.

I’m sure he’ll become a great English manager one day but I do feel he stepped into the lion’s den when he took the job on in the summer.

Ince’s philosophy is to play football, something he is trying to do with a squad inherited from a manager that didn’t.

Mark Hughes’ success at Rovers was built around a solid defensive backbone with a belief of winning at any cost.

He was heavily criticised for his style but no one can deny that it worked. Much like Sam Allardyce’s Bolton, the rough and tumble, workmanlike performances paid dividends in keeping them away from the drop zone.

I think Ince may have tried to have implement his views on the way the team should play too soon, resulting in players who had not been assembled to play flowing, attractive football struggling.

Instead a gradual transition may have been better, giving Ince time to build his own team who are more suited to his style of football.

Instead, average personnel is left playing some very good footballing teams at their own game.

No disrespect to the likes of Aaron Mokoena and Keith Andrews who have been playing regularly in the centre of the park but there are much stronger midfield partnerships in most of other teams in the league.

They may be aided by the return of David Dunn, but with his unfortunate injury record I’d rather gamble on Roy Chubby Brown keeping fit.

Although the way “fat bastard” keeps running off stage at the moment he’ll soon be able to do a job sitting in front of the back four.

The loss of Brad Friedel and Bentley has also been key, match winners at both ends of the pitch, their absence will see Rovers lose vital points they would have taken last season.

The other two teams in touch of being bottom at Christmas both hail from the North East.

Newcastle and Sunderland have also suffered from their managers walking out on them this season.

Kevin Keegan left St James’ Park in September after what he perceived as interference from boardroom level.

Since then the club has been put up for sale leaving Joe Kinnear to try and turn them around.

Having got themselves out of the bottom three they seem to have found the resolve to combine with the player’s undoubted ability to pull themselves out of trouble.

Sunderland on the other hand have seen Roy Keane massively overspend, signing players for fun using Niall Quinn’s consortium's gold card.

The bearded WAG has brought many a spangly accessory to the Stadium of Light who have proved to be about as watchable as an episode of Celeb Air.

Around seventy million pounds has been flashed on assembling a team with little cohesion.

Some of Keano’s choices have also been quite bizarre; many of his signings have certainly been a contrast in character to the man himself.

It’s been like finding Elizabeth Taylor raiding the January sales at Elizabeth Duke.

But having walked out after a few defeats maybe he has lost some of the desire he had for the game as a player.

Without Keane, Sunderland's new manager must firstly evaluate which of the hefty playing squad are up for the fight.

The lazy and lacklustre defending shown against Bolton cannot be repeated in that sort of crunch fixture if they are to avoid the drop.

Relegation for any of the teams with the exception of West Brom would prove to be an unmitigated financial disaster.

At a time when players, managers, directors and fans all start looking for signs, the traditional bottom at Christmas tag will be one that they will want to avoid like bumping into a half cut Kerry Katona.

The art of seduction and semi finals.

Ah, the sweet smell of success.

Ok, maybe it was the smell of Bovril or perhaps the bogs but it still smelt great.

Or perhaps it may have been the whiff of the same aftershave Arsene Wenger used to seduce Cristiano Ronaldo’s mum emanating from the away dugout.

Whatever it was I inhaled a massive dose of it on Tuesday night.

In fact, anyone that left Turf Moor that evening would have done so sniffing it like a trophy pair of knickers confiscated from their first sexual conquest.

I wonder if Arsene did that with Mrs. Winker’s panties.

Of course Wenger was talking this week about charming her into making her offspring sign for Arsenal but conceded that his advances were not enough as Cristiano was eventually seduced by Carlos Queiroz to join United.

But imagine if Monsieur Wenger had actually had his wicked way with Ronaldo’s mother. It would be the perfect tonic to combat the winger.

Imagine as Cristiano makes one of his trademark dazzling runs down the touchline all Wenger would have to do his step out to the edge of his technical area and say…

“…well, err, your mum, she iz shit in ze sack.”

Forget doubling up or this tactical fouling nonsense, Ronaldo would collapse to his knees in tears wishing his mum would be quick and have it off with the President of Real Madrid.

We must return to Tuesday now, things are getting far too steamy, I don’t think football has been this sexual since Mark Lawrenson used to touch himself on Match of the Day.

Well, Burnley are back…again.

A stunning two nil victory over the Gunner’s superstar youngsters proves things are on the rise in East Lancashire.

The Clarets showed by playing slick passing football that teams such as Arsenal can be beaten at their own game.

The atmosphere was electric as our youngsters showed that playing regular first team football is more beneficial than the good press an occasional outing brings.

The likes of Kevin McDonald, Chris McCann, Martin Paterson and Chris Eagles have all flourished since being given the opportunity to show what they can do regularly.

All had and still do have lots to learn but their education has been accelerated by getting games in a tough league.

Unfortunately for Wenger’s kids they need to spend some time at the school of hard knocks, whether that be in the first team at the Emirates or being loaned out to the Championship.

One man who has had a fantastic season is the “Beast” Brian Jensen.

The hero in the wins against both Chelsea and Arsenal the big Dane is an example to any youngster who suffers a knock back in the game.

Since joining the club under Stan Ternent in 2003 there have been several “replacements” brought in to take the number one spot.

But Brian kept his dignity and worked hard and now finds himself at the peak of his career in the form of his life.

And in my opinion nobody deserves this current run of form more than the beast.

With the semi final draw looming whoever we get will be a cracker of a tie.

Whether we go down in a blaze of glory or reach Wembley nobody can take away the achievement of Owen Coyle and his team.

At the very least this run will open the eyes of many to the good work being done at the club and hopefully help us keep on attracting players of a high calibre.

I just hope once they are interested Mr Coyle is better versed in the art of seduction than Arsene Wenger.

All I can say is God help Ronaldo’s mother if she ever comes to Turf Moor.

Its panto season...but whos playing the back of the horse?

Its not even December and pantomime season is already upon us.

Not only do we have terrible acting in the form of an attempted dive by Wayne Rooney midweek but we also have more managers playing Widow Twanky than I care to mention.

The only thing that might be missing is a choir of Spurs fans singing risqué double entendre to Sol Campbell.

Although that’s probably a good thing.

This weekend seems to be a week of derbies, with Manchester, the Tyne Tees and London all gearing up for heavily anticipated clashes.

In Manchester, Six Alex, unfortunately not wearing a wig and a dress, has been dismissing City’s chances of eventually overtaking United with their vast new found fortunes and even found time in his analysis to conclude Arsenal are in “disarray”.

“Oh yes we are” screamed Hughes.

“Oh no we’re not” whispered Wenger.

Pantomime villain William Gallas’ behaviour has for a long time been as bizarre as Britney Spear’s reported X Factor demands and it was only right he was dropped as captain.

Now the articulate Frenchman has written a book, which if previous form is anything to go by will probably seal his transfer away from the Emirates.

Chelsea manager Luiz Felipe Scolari has backed the Gunner’s insisting they are not out of the title race just yet and a victory against his side on Sunday would get their season back on track.

I doubt Wenger and his players even believe Scolari’s prophecy. In fact it’s probably about as convincing as that old fairy tale where three bears chase away a dirty young scamp for messing around in their bed.

And no, I’m not making more revelations about Boy George’s private life.

As the season hots up, expect more of these mind games, dramas and verbal foul play.

Let’s just hope the jousting continues to be as thrilling on the pitch as it is off it.

For football is a pantomime that’s available to audiences all year round.

It’s just a shame nobody can camply shout “he’s behind you” to whichever players about to be tackled by Graeme Le Saux anymore.

Only joking Graeme.

Forget president...step forward the new master of the universe.

Last week I called for President Coyle to step forward…now he’s gone beyond that accolade…step forward Owen Coyle- Master of the Universe.

Anything could’ve happened in the world of football this week and it would still have played second fiddle to my chosen topic.

Even Fergie revealing a long standing love affair with Arsene Wenger or Kevin Keegan returning to St James’ Park in a spaceship couldn’t have moved Burnley beating Chelsea from number one.

And remember, this was in a week that Fabio Capello banned tomato ketchup from meal times in the England squad.

So Wednesday saw a glorious victory for Burnley Football Club over Premier League table toppers Chelsea.

It was truly a night of Claret and Blue hearts.

Some might try and diminish the victory by saying it wasn’t a full Chelsea side. But of the fit players available to Luis Felipe Scolari only Petr Cech, John Terry, Bosingwa and Nicolas Anelka were omitted.

The likes of Deco, Didier Drogba, Frank Lampard, Flourant Malouda, John Obi Mikel, Solomon Kalou, Wayne Bridge and Alex all featured in the line up and were equally matched by the heroic Championship outfit.

Beating any Chelsea team at Stamford Bridge is some feat and one Owen Coyle’s men did with great aplomb.

Throughout the night over six thousand travelling Clarets sang their hearts out and were rewarded with a result beyond their wildest dreams.

The euphoria that was experienced when Ade Akinbiyi followed up Chris Eagles shot to thunder the ball home was something special.

In fact the whole experience is something that can never be taken away from the club and the fans.

The image of Brian Jensen flying across the goal to save Obi Mikel’s penalty will go down in Burnley folklore.

The only thing that has threatened to overshadow it was the coin throwing incident where Burnley fans and Didier Drogba exchanged loose change.

It’s not something which I wish to dwell on but anybody throwing coins at a football match for whatever reason is an idiot.

The only thing I will say about Drogba is that if he played the game by purely showing his ability as he did for the goal then there would not be a problem.

However the constant petulance and child like manner shown by the man wouldn’t be tolerated at children’s level.

Constant diving and chasing referees may be part of life in the Premiership but not in the Championship where the game is slightly more honest.

In order to achieve true greatness any sportsman must act with grace and the attitude of the champion, something Drogba for all his undoubted power and ability is yet to add to his game.

After over two hours of constant signing my vocal chords were worn thinner than one of Jodie Marsh’s thongs but we were home and dry.

But somehow it never seemed in doubt. Chelsea flattered to deceive going forward and rarely threatened with clear cut opportunities.

It was one of those games where it seemed written in the stars.

Let’s just hope Blackburn Rovers in the quarter finals is carved into the constellation when the draw is made tomorrow.

Step forward President Coyle...

What a wonderful week for the world.

Barack Obama is the President elect of the United States of America.

Lewis Hamilton is Formula One Champion.

And Burnley Football Club are nestled comfortably in the top six in the Championship.

There’s definitely some sort of new world order.

But while Barack gets his teeth into solving the global economic crisis, steering us away from impending Armageddon and buying puppies, it’s President Coyle that gets my plaudits.

The wee Scotsman is busy transforming the Clarets into a solid but attractive outfit who are playing with great flair, elegance and panache.

The likes of Robbie Blake and Chris Eagles look head and shoulders above anyone else in that department but with the aptitude of Chris McCann, Wade Elliot, Martin Paterson and Joey Gudjonsson they are ably assisted.

The back line has also been excellent, totally transformed from the disorganised bunch of gimps that turned up for the first two games of the season which saw the team ship seven goals.

Much of the praise must go to the gaffer Mr Owen Coyle was who has worked hard to get a team who plays attractive football, rarely concedes and are difficult to beat.

The club's recent success seems to be much attributed to the tremendous team spirit.

It’s great to see players celebrating a victory with such vigour, although their obsession with red underpants is quite disturbing.

Long may this wave of good fortune continue and if promotion was to be achieved then Coyle can expect much more than the honours bestowed on Obama this week.

But as we all know the Championship is a tight league where a couple of wins or defeats could see your position go up and down faster than Amy Winehouse’s knickers…well that’s if her husband Blake got his way after his promise on release from prison this week.

The same thing seems to be happening in the Premiership. In recent seasons there has definitely been almost three mini leagues operating within the twenty team structure but in recent weeks these boundaries have faded faster than John McCain’s Presidency hopes.

Just four points separates seventh and nineteenth at the start of play today with one more win for a rejuvenated Spurs meaning every team will have more points in November than Derby County did last May.

It's anyone’s guess at this stage who will get dragged in to the relegation battle by the end of the season, although on current form those teams facing the drop could easily be two wins away from attaining a much coveted spot in the UEFA Cup.

The performances of the promoted teams Stoke and Hull in particular have thrown the proverbial cat amongst the pigeons.

Hull City have undoubtedly been the surprise package of the season so far. Phil Brown seems to have found an effective way of playing the Premiership's elite and has been getting results.

Although I put it down to his lucky charm. Joes Mourinho had his “lucky” jacket while Brown has his “lucky” tan leather shoes…and skin.

But it is great to see a young fearless English manager not cowering to the bright lights of the big four and getting his team to have a good go at them.

One man who will always have a good go at his opponent is Joe Calazaghe who could possibly be bringing the curtain down on his so far unbeaten career tonight.

The Welshman has been an example to all sportsmen during his forty five fight professional career.

Whatever happens tonight against the legendary Roy Jones JR Calzaghe will go down in history as one of Britain’s great fighters.

Whether he chooses to fight on or not, let’s just hope his professional record reads 46 Wins, 0 Losses, 0 Draws in the morning.

A week of funny phone calls...

Who would have thought a phone call could have had such a tremendous impact on the country this week?

I mean, the one Daniel Levy made to Harry Redknapp has worked wonders.

Fortunes can turn on such decisions as to dial the right number, as can the careers of our best loved entertainers.

The furore that has followed Russell Brand and Jonathan Ross around this week has been ludicrous.

I know it’s not football but they might as well as have rounded old Manuel’s granddaughter up in a hotel and given her an old fashioned footballers roasting for the conjecture they’ve received during the last seven days.

What annoyed me about the whole incident was the fact some thirty thousand people took it upon themselves to get upset on someone else’s behalf when their perfectly capable of dealing with the situation.

Andrew Sach’s said he dealt with what happened and was happy with the outcome but his opinion wasn’t respected by the P.C brigade who treated him like a doddering, old senile fool simply because he wasn’t baying for blood or wanting heads to roll.

I could understand if all these people were offended by listening to the programme, but very few did, shown by the two complaints the show received following transmission.

It’s funny what people will do when an “idiot’s guide” to complaining is printed in a national newspaper.

The Nazi like indoctrination and oppression of thought carried out by The Daily Mail this week has painted a sad picture for the future of the written press in this country.

Still, I wonder where they got idea from?

Anyway back to the football and one of those other phone calls.

Juande Ramos and “Changing Rooms” Comolli have been sacked by Spurs leaving ‘Arry Redknapp with a blank canvas to weave his magic brush.

An instant impact with victory over Bolton was followed by a miraculous comeback to draw four all against Arsenal.

Spurs fans are probably already fantasising about a push for the top four.

But good luck to ‘Arry as he deserves the chance to manage a big club and big players.

The third funny phone call this week has seen the biggest player on the planet return as Diego Maradona will be putting his God hand to good use filling in team sheets, writing tactics and directing instructions as Argentina’s new national team coach.

Clean of the booze and drugs can El Diego turn Argentina back into world beaters?

Quite possibly.

Although for our sakes lets hope he doesn’t hire a goalkeeping coach to train the outfield players…

Changing rooms disaster at Spurs...

Football seems to have gone back to its clandestine past this week.

William Gallas has been seen puffing on a cigarette, John Carew’s been caught wandering round strip clubs before games while Spurs still insist playing like they’ve had a skin-full of ale.

I’m almost expecting to hear Arsene Wenger will be treating his team to a fry up at a Little Chef before tomorrow’s meeting with West Ham.

But while Gallas and Carew have perhaps committed misdemeanours with less of an impact, the hangover that seems to be cursing Spur’s season is one Kerry Katona would be proud of.

It’s like Newcastle without the comedy.

They seem to have bought players they didn’t really need which is shown by the weak spine the team has.

Confidence seems to be destroyed amongst the players, with the likes of Woodgate, Jenas and brylcream Bently looking shadows of their former selves.

For a team that cost more to assemble than Sarah Palin’s election campaign wardrobe its quite satisfying to see that for once in modern day football money isn’t everything.

Although I would like to see those players producing their best form to help out the national side, it’s the Spurs hierarchy which needs to change to allow things on the pitch to regulate themselves.

The “Changing Rooms” approach to football management has seen Tottenham’s Sporting Director Damian Camolli paint the team a gaudy pink leaving Juande Ramos scowling, dreaming a nice shade of magnolia.

Even Carole Smiley would be wincing at what Camolli's done with that dressing room.

And how Spur’s or anyone else for that matter will be wishing they could have pulled off the transfer coup which may see David Beckham spend some time in Milan during L.A Galaxy’s close season.

Not too long ago, a news story containing the words “Beckham in Milan” would have probably only conjured up the image of Posh spice lugging far too many designer paper bags down the Milanese high street.

But now Sir David looks set to prolong his resurgent international career with a stint at A.C, leaving the Italian footballing public and fashion designers swooning.

A footballing hero for everyone, I don’t think there is a single Englishman who doesn’t appreciate Beckham, who has consistently been one of the most talented footballers on the world stage in the past fifteen years.

He encompasses everything the modern footballer should be, no fags, booze, strippers or arrogance.

Although I wouldn’t put it past him to have one of Comolli’s gaudy pink bedrooms in Beckingham Palace.

More meaningless wins please Fabio...

Has English football turned into the X-Factor this week?

Firstly Ashley Cole was subjected to the pantomime booing normally only reserved for one of Louie Walsh’s crude put downs made only because the singer in front of him wasn’t a cute Irish boy.

Then Rio and Fabio voted off the WAGS.

Next was the turn of the England fans, who sang totally out of sync with the band during the national anthems against Belarus on Wednesday.

And to top it all off Joe Kinnear revealed a poignant sob story to explain his habit at swearing at reporters.

For a man not wanting to be ridiculed, a 61 year old bloke blaming growing up in Watford for calling Journalists a bunch of f*****rs and c***s is asking a bit much.

Although I don’t want to dwell on Newcastle when England are looking like a team again.

Despite shaky moments during the first half of both games against Kazakhstan and Belarus England showed their class when it mattered.

The excellent Heskey received his well deserved fiftieth cap and definitely deserved a goal to mark his milestone and level of performance.

Although it wouldn’t be the same if he scored would it?

There is no doubt though his presence in the team has helped England and in particular Wayne Rooney become a real threat again.

Despite finally conceding to his impending baldness the vast amount of chest hair that seems to be spouting from Rooney’s neckline makes Ryan Giggs and his famous rug look like that of a little pre-pubescent gimp.

But Rooney’s form has been spectacular, the work rate of England’s number 10 has long been admired for his country but over the last few games the end product has finally come.

He has scored both tremendous and ugly goals in the past two games which at this point makes him as great a threat internationally as U.S foreign policy.

Capello and his men are now once again uniting a nation, bringing people back together to celebrate it’s footballers.

The only people they can’t unite at this point is probably Guy Ritchie and Madonna.

Steven Gerrard looks to be back on top form, Rio Ferdinand has been an excellent stand in captain and Frank Lampard and Gareth Barry have been steady away in the engine room.

But can this record breaking qualifying form continue? Will it? One can only hope so.

Now McClarens circus has finally left town, the WAGS being forced to drink their overpriced champagne elsewhere and Capello clamping down on ego the team can now concentrate on being successful.

We’ve known for the last few years we’ve had the talent, what’s lacking has been the attitude.

Wins mean “nothing” under the new manager until success is achieved, whereas before wins meant we had the right to expect success.

The subtle difference in mentality is one that could prove to be the key to finally unlocking our potential.

So here’s to thirteen more meaningless competitive wins until we lift the trophy in Johannesburg’s Soccer City.

Cups and cutlery on ebay?

Das Football comes to you a day early this week, I thought I might as well get it out early in case the dark clouds of financial ruin fall on the world of football before Saturday.

With the economies around the globe falling flatter than a Cristiano Ronaldo penalty appeal everything’s gone a little dark this week.

Firstly West Ham were in trouble as the Icelandic bank run by the owner of the Hammers was nationalised.

This sparked fears of a clearout bigger than the ones those popular furniture companies like to do every bank holiday Monday.

And it might not just be the players, what with their sponsors XL going bust, the Carlos Tevez affair and now this, the Newcastle of the South might not just be selling off Gianfranco Zola’s inherited playing squad but also the club silverware; and that includes cutlery from the canteen.

Within twenty four hours Lord Triesman then spoke of the extreme dangers faced by the games top flight stating a massive three billion pounds of debt is owned by our top clubs.

Of that, two thirds has apparently been run up by the “big four”.

Considering Accrington Stanley went out of business for a sixty five pound gas bill in the sixties, what the football elite get away with these days is pretty ludicrous.

Fears are that if one big club went out a business a domino effect could be created.

But what’s the solution?

With Government’s around the world trying their best to throw enough money into the system to help breath some life into it we’ll just have to all sit tight and wait.

Let’s hope enough mud sticks and a big club doesn’t collapse or all hell will break loose.

Imagine a post apocalyptic footballing doomsday where only cockroaches, Sepp Blatter and Robbie Savage survive.

But if the game was to crash, would things return to the good old days where players were paid reasonable wages and the fans were valued?

I doubt it…you can’t really see Theo Walcott retiring to run a pub in fifteen years can you? I don’t think he’ll have aged enough to even get served in one by then.

SB

Look after the players and the c**ts will look after themselves

Welcome to another Saturday blog.

Or if your Joe Kinnear, another f****ng c**ty Saturday blog.

I start this morning by bringing you some breaking news on the Newcastle saga.

Apparently the contents of Kinnear’s swear box means he’s now able to buy the club from Mike Ashley.

Not bad for a mornings work.

With all the poise and grace of a rejected X Factor contestant Kinnear let rip at the clubs press conference angry at the way club affairs had been reported in the media.

If you haven’t read/heard it already then do it immediately.

It was like the Hollyoaks late night version of Kevin Keegan's “I’d love it” rant.

Fifty two swear words were recorded in five minutes, a record I think only broken by that episode of South Park, the N.W.A and Gordon Ramsey.

What I particularly enjoyed was the way the bloke from the Daily Mirror thanked Joe for calling him a c**t.

It was like it was the greatest compliment he’d ever received. Although writing for the Daily Mirror it probably is.

I know he was attempting to avert any further confrontation with JK but Kinnear could probably have said anything and he would’ve accepted it.

Imagine:

JK: Which one is Simon Bird?

Bird: Me.

JK: You’re a c**t and I’ve just fucked your mother.

Bird: Thank you Mr. Kinnear, she needed that. Do you want me to finish you off?

It was lunacy.

Then rather brilliantly the press officer after about twenty minutes of effing and jeffing half-heartedly tried to ask if they could bring it back to football.

It was like the work of a beleaguered housewife asking “Can’t you kids just play nicely for a change…?”

But what got me thinking was if this could prove to be a masterstroke by Kinnear to take pressure off other areas of the football club.

By creating the sort of atmosphere between him and the press normally only reserved for Spurs fans and Sol Campbell he is putting pressure firmly on his back and off the rest of the football club.

After all, he worked under the siege mentality at Wimbledon for all those years. Maybe this was a way of galvanising the players into a tight unit.

An “us against the world” attitude could prove vital in JK’s minute tenure at the club.

We can only see what the reaction of the player’s is against Everton tomorrow.

My only hope is that Michael Owen doesn’t start calling everybody a c**t in his post match interview.

SB

Toon's crazy gang turns mentally ill...

We'll get onto the soap that is North Eastenders in a minute.

But first I've got some nervous energy to get rid of.

Lancashire pride is at stake today. Preston come to Turf Moor for what should be a great game.

With Preston third in the table it’s vital we turn over North End to ensure those all important bragging rights.

I’m sat here typing away waiting for three o’clock to come...and it's taking it's time.

I've wathed this about times now...









A repeat of that night would be just the ticket.

But I cant't help thinking of last season at the Turf, when Preston came out on top after Burnley had Chris McCann sent off and we should've had a pentalty in the opening minutes.

"I thought I heard Stevie Wonder in the stands shouting for a penalty" was the response from Owen Coyle.

Lets all pray for a strong refereeing display and three points come 5 o'clock.

To take my mind off it, lets cast our minds back to yesterday...

...Is it just me or did Pat Butcher forget to put her make-up on when she took the Newcastle job?

No, of course not, Joe Kinnear’s back in football.

With Mike Ashley’s strict policy of only appointing managers who haven’t been in the game for three years or more he was the obvious choice really wasn’t he?

Rumour has it Joe fought off late bids from Frank Clark, Mike Walker and Christian Gross for the job.

It’s been revealed a total of seventeen managers have turned down the interim job of running team affairs at Newcastle.

Terry Venables revealed he said no this week, while David O'Leary, Glenn Hoddle and Alan Curbishley have all been said to have politely declined.

Apparently even Mike Basset turned it down.

Things seem to have got pretty desperate down at St. James’.

Which is in no disrespect to Mr.Kinnear but the fact that no supposed high profile figure would entertain taking it speaks volumes.

There seems to be so few managers in the frame it would not surprise me to learn that Kinnear only got the job after some strange voodoo attempts by Ashley and Wise at the grave of Brian Clough had failed to revive ol' big 'ed from the dead.

Although if they could bring Cloughy back from beyond the grave I'm not exactly sure he'd be up for working with the cockney mafia.

I hope the fans give Joe their support as he's an honest bloke who knows what he's there to do. He's not trying to fool anyone but just attempt to do what must be an incredibly difficult job.

Its a good job he's not their for long...I doubt his heart could take it. Then again, I don't think mine could either.

It just seems more and more obvious that Mike Ashley learnt how to run a football club by watching old re-runs of Dream Team on Sky One.

Maybe he should just put the linesman that gave “phantom” goal at Vicarage Road last weekend in charge of decision making.

Or perhaps he should dust off the old magic 8 ball he used when appointing Dennis Wise.

Never has the phrase “if you had a brain you’d be dangerous” been so apt than in the case of Mike Ashley.

But speaking of goals that should never have been, the ones Carlos Tevez scored for West Ham during his “ineligible” flirtation as a player at Upton Park have been hitting the headlines again.

Despite all the controversy and wrongdoing by the Hammers, I can’t help not feeling much sympathy for Sheffield United.

In all the years leading up to their year in the Premiership Neil Warnock schemed, bullied and cheated his way to promotion.

His antics in 2001 when he sent his then assistant Kevin Blackwell to listen to a half time team talk from behind the door of the Burnley dressing room is just one instance of the mans attitude.

And although ol' big ego may have gone, it’s that reputation he’s left behind. The one that still seems to remain at the club which makes me feel little sorrow for their plight.

I’m not saying they shouldn’t have their money but the way you conduct yourself in certain situations often determines the outcome.

So like most crying, screaming toddlers, they might one day get their way.

SB

P.S I've gone a bit YouTube crazy this morning...I hope you will enjoy this brilliant Sheff Utd/Hitler video as much as me.




Come on You Clarets!

Funny girls, naughty school kids and a burka...

Well, well, well…

I feel like a naughty school kid handing in my homework a day late.

Internet connection problems means Das Football like most premiership games these days comes to a Sunday.

I’ve had to re-write the article that was meant to be published yesterday which contained several references on how bad Blackpool were against Burnley on Tuesday.

And they were, Wade Elliot might as well have slapped a “kiss me quick” hat firmly on Mo Camara’s head as time after time he made him look as daft as Bloomfield Road.

I’m sure if Simon Grayson had fielded a first eleven from Funny Girls that night they would’ve put up more of a fight…

…actually, of course they would, at least a team from Funny Girls would’ve had balls.

But the tangerines came up trumps yesterday with a surprising and rather brilliant win over Birmingham while the Clarets were held to a one all draw after a ridiculously late Swansea equaliser.

So maybe I’ll save the gloating for Preston next week? Or just not bother.

Ok, now where was I?

Oh yes, naughty school kids.

Don’t worry, I haven’t gone all Gary Glitter on you but I’m talking about the way Sir Alex Ferguson tried to make Keith Hackett feel this week.

Arguing the toss over the rescinding of what wasn’t a red card anyway was maybe a slight deflection away from United’s poor start to the season.

So whether Keith Hackett has a John Terry poster on his bedroom wall or not the Chelsea skipper will be lining up against Man Yoo today whether the demon headmaster likes it or not.

What else has happened this week?

Of course, the Newcastle saga rumbles on and apparently now the fans want to buy their club.

The general consensus seems to be that if enough Geordies all put in a grand then they can buy the club and handle affairs themselves.

It’s bad enough one bloke running that club, never mind three hundred thousand.

I can’t help seeing the image of a ground full of fans all sporting “9 CHAIRMAN” on their replica shirts.

To be fair though, they couldn’t have done a worse job than cartoon owner Mike Ashley.

The papers this morning suggest that Ashley may have lost a small fortune (around £300 million) by attempting to invest in HBOS.

Couldn’t have happened to a nicer bloke could it?

Ashley reminds me of working class lottery winner, a kind of yuppie version of Mikey Carroll.

I imagine his vast estate to contain dirt tracks, burnt out Vauxhall Nova’s, fires burning in disused oil drums and junkyard dogs chained up waiting to ravage any disgruntled King Kev supporters that may attempt a break in.

In his shirt and tie he has the demeanour of a satanic David Brent. The classic loosened tie and “I’m richer than you but I’m still one of the lads” attitude provides the perfect combination for immediate contempt.

While I type Ashley is probably sporting a Keffiyeh headdress as he drags his knuckles around the Middle East in his Newcastle shirt looking for someone to buy him out.

Although if he’s ever to wander round St. James Park again then might I suggest he wear a Burka.

SB

Thats a book-thing.

“I would rather be a travelling salesman, sell cakes in the fair, than remain at the club'"

No not the whimsical words of a Kevin Keegan but those of Robinho as he made his way from Spanish Giants Real Madrid to somewhere I don’t think he’s even quite sure of yet.

By the time he works out he’s at Manchester City he’ll be firmly involved in the battle of the billionaires as city welcome the Russians to Middle Eastlands on Saturday.

It’s certainly going to be a baptism of fire for the Brazilian as I’m sure he’s likely to be earmarked for a certain “special treatment” that’s normally only reserved for Noel Gallagher by Canadians these days.

Then there’s the row between Fergie and Rafa over each others spending. Like two women bickering over dresses, the two divas have been sniping over the cost of each others star players.

Fergie says Robbie Keane was far too much, while Rafa hit back by saying having Nani, Hargreaves and Tevez, a mere £70 million worth of talent all on the bench in their last encounter makes Sir Alex somewhat of a hypocrite.

The big girls.

In other news, Robbie Keane has been robbed. No not of his lovely missus, by me, but of his possessions from his Merseyside pad.

The spate of recent break-ins targetting Liverpool players does little to enhance the image of the stereotypical scouser does it?!

And speaking of scousers, let’s talk about Jamie Carragher’s “no holds barred” autobiography.

A player (or manager for that matter- not forgetting you David O'Leary) speaking out about ongoing issues at their club in hardback while still under contract can be seen as nothing more than an arrogant pursuit of book sales.

Carragher may have made some valid points over the row between Rafa and the Yankee owners of Liverpool but why do players insist on not waiting until the end of their careers to speak on such incidents?

He claims that the two sides washed their dirty linen in public…but what has publishing his opinions on the matter done?

As a long serving member of the club and vice captain he should have more respect for the club that has made him a multi millionaire no matter who owns it or manages the team.

It seems that because of the strict lifestyle most footballers adhere to these days- the great anecdotes and wild stories from the “good old days” are so few and far between that the only way to shift a few copies of a book is to throw integrity out of the window.

Carragher says Anfield was beginning to resemble a laundrette, but surely by publicising the issue Jamie’s added his own load to the Anfield Washbowl...at a recommended retail price of £18.99.

SB

Give me an international break...

Well we really have seen it all this week…new Arab money, crazy transfer dealings, shock manager “resignations” and some old bird getting the boys from Westlife tattooed across her back.

The world has almost certainly gone mad.

The week began as it normally does, with a Monday. With the transfer window just hours away from closure it was set to be a routine exercise. For many it was simply a case of one or two last minute deals to patch up holes in paperweight squads.

Then all of a sudden, up pop some crazy Arabs at Manchester City faster than it takes Mike Ashley to down a pint.

Out of nowhere, big money bids were being made for the likes of Berbatov, Torres and Robinho.

Of course the Torres bid as rebuffed, while United’s Dark Knight Sir Alex Ferguson turned up in his Batmobile at Manchester Airport to whisk the Bulgarian off to Old Trafford.

But why was Berbatov under Fergie’s blanket?

Was it the cold weather in Manchester? Or maybe some strange, cultish United initiation ceremony? Or perhaps the strongest analogy to date that when it comes to transfers, modern day footballers are treated like dogs- with the Bulgarian shoved in the boot of Fergie’s Bentley with nothing but a blanket and a squeaky toy….

…but if that were true the new number 9 would be sporting a flashy diamond encrusted collar by now.

Eventually after a long hard day for Sky Sports News reporters the deadline came and it was Brazilian star Robinho who joined the joined the world’s newest richest club.

I’m sure that for City fans the news is even more exciting than Frank Sinartra rising from the dead to bring in international sex-pot Sven Goran Eriksson as manager.

But for those, like me, who support clubs like Burnley in the Championship, the billionaire boys club the Premiership is quickly becoming is further evidence that the game has firmly become detached from its roots.

After Monday I did not feel joy at yet more money and promise of big name world stars in England…I felt quite sad, that the slim dream of the Clarets one day competing, albeit in the lower echelons of the top division, was now about as far fetched as an X-Factor sob story.

But can it work? Can City gatecrash the top four?

It will only make this new investment interesting if they can.

However I firmly believe any power shift cannot happen unless City can persuade a Fabregas, Ronaldo or Torres to switch allegiances from one of the big four to “Middle Eastlands.”

The day that happens is the day things start to hot up in the Premiership.

So Monday ended and Tuesday began…

…and with the dust still settling from the transfer window, something of Biblical proportions was about to happen.

The news came through on the wire…had the Messiah really been taken to the slaughter?

Report’s emerging from inside the dungeons of St James Park was that Kevin Keegan had gone.

Whether he’d resigned, been sacked or magically disappeared through the fog on the Tyne nobody knew.

It was utter frenzy…a state of confusion, fear and nausea loomed round the Toon.

Who do you call to solve such a mystery?

With Morse, Ironside and Scooby Doo and the Gang all unavailable, it was left up to those canny old hacks at Sky Sports.

And after 48 hours of fervent forensic analysis taking place it was eventually discovered that Keegan had in fact resigned stating differences over transfer policy.

And with that lovable rogue Dennis Wise in charge of the decision making in that department who can blame him.

Taking transfers decisions out of the hands of managers seems to be a trend in the modern day game.

And perhaps in some instances it may work, but if it was Ashley’s intention all along to employ a technical director then why bring back a man who’s prone to more fits of emotion than Elton John.

This saga only ever had one winner- and not for the first time, it wasn’t King Kev.

By employing Wise after stating Keegan was the man to take the club forward, Ashley may as well of pulled down Kevin’s trousers and spanked his bottom in the club shop window.

It was utter lunacy.

And Keegan is not the only lucky loser in all of this – spare a thought for the Geordie faithful.

They may think their bigger than they are but since Keegan took over there have been small glimpses of hope.

An up and down season may have been in order, but Keegan was beginning to build a team that on the occasional Saturday, as their opening day fixture against Man Utd proved, could perhaps upset the applecart.

There’s no doubt footballs lost one its genuine characters with Keegan’s departure, but you can’t help thinking it would have been better if Ashley picked a different replica shirt from one of his many sports shops and spent his money elsewhere.

Although to be frank, no club deserves to have their hero, their legend, their messiah made a mockery of right under their noses.

Will they revolt? Will they boycott the game or burn effigies of Ashley? Who knows…But one thinks for certain, there will be at least one extra spare seat in the home end on match days.

And as if we couldn’t take anymore…Alan Curbishley went from West Ham as well.

Poor old Alan, who’d established the greatest squad of permanently injured footballers on the planet resigned from his post on Wednesday.

Again transfer dealings were at the centre of the controversy. This time it was over the issue of George McCartney moving to Sunderland.

“Curbs” was apparently angry at the sale of one of his fitter players and decided enough was enough.

Is this going to be the new trend that comes with having the transfer window?

At the end of every business portal just how many casualities will we have?

It's just madness…it leaves me wondering what will happen come January?

Will Roy Keane resign after being told he Spurs don’t have any reserve players left for him to buy?

Will Mark Hughes resign after failing with a £700 million pound bid for Roque Santa Cruz?

Or will Paul Ince fall on his sword, realising that after signing Robbie Fowler- convincing the rest of the spice boys to give it one last go in the Premiership was a bad idea?

We will wait and see.

Well that brings us to the end of a rather frantic week in football.

And at the end of it, what could be better than an England World Cup Qualifier?

The joy…

SB

Cold War Kits

Did somebody say a new cold war?

Surely the rising Russian and Western tensions are nothing compared to the standoffs which we’ve all had to endure this summer.

The transfer sagas involving Ronaldo to Madrid, Lampard to Inter Milan, Berbabtov to Manchester United, Barry to Liverpool and Robinho to Chelsea at one point were exciting but now are as dull as an episode of Big Brother.

The war of attrition has been in full flow. There have been lots of propaganda in the press, telling tales of hypocrisy to FIFA and probably lots of behind the scenes slanging matches to rival that of Ken and Deirdre’s in Corrie the other week.

Come on Ken…we all know you’re better than old vein neck.

So the new iron curtain affectionately known as the transfer window slams firmly shut on Monday night.

And of the “big five” deals mentioned only two seem to have any life in them.

Ronaldo’s injury and Fergie’s hairdryer seems to have stalled any move to Madrid.

Frank Lampard’s probably swimming in his ducktales style money vault by now after signing his new deal at the Bridge.

And Gareth Barry… I think everyone feel asleep during the first three days of that one.

But this is football now. Transfer rumour and speculation is no longer fun.

Any deals that do happen are like a McCartney divorce…they become long drawn out bitter feuds, where in the end an over inflated twenty million gets paid out to keep a one legged donkey in flash cars and big houses.

So will Robinho arrive at Chelsea? Will the bottom lip of Dimitar Berbatov extend all the way up to Manchester?

I for one certainly hope so, just to prove that the tabloid press haven’t had our balls cupped in their sweaty, greasy palms all summer long.

SB

A Kick in the Balearics

Its back and don’t we just know it.

The eternal optimism that builds with the approach of every football season is easily shattered.

In my case it took about 13 seconds when Sheffield Wednesday scored their first of four against Burnley at Hillsborough on opening day...

…that’s even less time than it takes to shatter my sex life.

So with a four one defeat on opening day it was time for a holiday.

A week in Ibiza is quite similar to the football season. The excitement builds and builds, then as you go on, finding the energy to enjoy yourself often becomes a strain with the constant battering our bodies take during the whole process.

The only difference is; Ibiza does it physically, Football does it emotionally.

While away on the Sunshine Island there was of course a game. It felt strange to miss a home game at the turf, especially the first of the season. Fortunately the only decent action that was missed was a bloke from the red devils falling onto the roof of one of the stands.

The subsequent fifty minute hold up was perhaps just delaying the inevitable. Despite a reported bright start against Ipswich, once again three soft goals were leaked as we cemented our place at the bottom of the table.

It seems at the moment our defence is worse than Gary Glitter’s.

But surely things can only get better?!

Well maybe…

We roll onto game number three away to Neil Warnock’s Palace. A side that haven’t had the best of starts either. With a solitary point and no goals ol’ big ego will have his team fired up for what could be a rather open interesting encounter.

Or just another pasting?!

Moving on to other bits and pieces; and is it still ok to talk about England? Or has everyone given up?

Wednesday’s disjointed friendly showed us play good football for a good ten minutes…things are on the up!

I just hope Fabio’s decision not to start England’s best player Joe Cole is not a permanent one.

The boy oozes class and has constantly been our star man for years now. While Gerrard, Beckham, Lampard and Rooney are hit and miss Joe has been a constant threat.

At the moment the team seems to be too slow in the middle…Beckham, despite his fabulous delivery just doesn’t have the legs, a midfield pairing of Lampard and Barry looked sluggish and almost crying out for the combative nature of Gerrard and Hargreaves.

The defence is also a cause for concern. Is Wes Brown really England’s best right back? Is John Terry performances on the pitch for his country really worthy of captain? And for that matter is Rio’s? Or anyone’s for that matter?

It’s still all one big mess…albeit slightly less of a big mess than under Steve Van Der MacLaren.

After wowing the world with his Dutch accent, maybe rent a tan isn't the great big tit we thought he was.

I’ve head a rumour he’s in line to take over from Alistair McGowan and host “Steve MacLaren’s Big Impression” on the BBC…

…after all that was the best Martin Jol impression I’ve ever heard. And apparently there’s alot more in his locker.

You should see his impersonation of a rubbish manager… uncanny.

SB