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