Cowboy Parry ran out of town

I wonder if Rick Parry woke up with a horse’s head in his bed this morning.

The once immoveable Liverpool Chief Executive today announced his decision to step down at the end of the season after twelve years.

The politics of the Anfield boardroom has finally claimed a major victim just as it looked like Rafa Benitez would be the one to take the bullet.

The goateed one has been a stickler in his contract negotiations; verbally spitting on the latest offering this week.

By wanting exclusive rights to any transfer dealings before putting his quill to paper Benitez may have spelled the end for Parry.

The continued showdown between the two has echoes of the Wild West.

Although I doubt Parry could stand up to Rafa’s gun toting, gum chewing posture, well unless he could finally get Jurgen Klinnsman lined up for backup.

Although the pair have been less friendly than the Israelis and Palestinians for the last few years Rafa is insisting he’s not the one to blame for this one.

The aggressor is hard to determine as the examination of the boardroom politics at Anfield is more complicated than anything I ever studied in History. In fact, countries have gone to war over less.

The two Yankee cigar lovers also both have motive to be the key to Parry's “mutual consent” departure.

Tom Hicks has long been a disparager of the departing chief exec, calling for his resignation back April last year.

While George Gillett JR, who had remained a close ally of Parry seems to fallen out love with the man that brought him to the club.

It brings to an end a beautiful releationship as George and Rick have been in cahoots over many things in the past; particularly signings.

Like two teenage girls drunk off too much coca-cola on a sleepover they seem to have treated the clubs transfer policy like picking their favourite member of Take That.

That’s apparently what happened when Robbie Keane came in over the less attractive Gareth Barry. I think they thought Keane had nicer hair and better skin.

And while Gillett continues to search for a buyer of his fifty percent stake in the club Parry’s departure may have already been inevitable.

The feeling on Merseyside seems to be one of good riddance. Many Kopites will never forgive the “dawdling” that nearly lost their beloved Steven Gerrard to Chelsea.

It seems the reign of Parry will be remembered best for its turbulence and lack of solidarity with those around him. Something which puts Liverpool’s glorious past to shame.

Veggie burgers all round for the all conquering United

Edwin Van Der Saar has now not conceded a goal in a record breaking twenty one hours and forty two minutes of football.

Ryan Giggs has now scored in every premier league season.

And Paul Scholes remains the greatest ever ginger haired player.

(With Alan Ball a close second and sincerest apologies to Alexi Lalas and Dave Kitson who didn’t make the cut. You were both definitely ginger though.)

Sir Alex Ferguson’s team of insurmountable imps are currently making a mockery title race as they look like Usain Bolt taking on the latest arrivals at Fat Camp in a fifty yard dash.

Liverpool are perhaps the only one of the conventional big four left in the race but even their meaty little fingers are slowly slipping away from the cake tin.

And if their ruthless assault continues United will equal their closest rival’s record of nineteen league titles come May.

In fact a haul of an unprecedented five trophies could still be paraded around Manchester in just a few months.

But who will stop them? Especially with the likes of Fulham rolling over like an in-season dog consciously waiting to humped by the libidinous red devils.

Teams are more than ever before being beaten before they get off the team bus when visiting Old Trafford leaving United with an almost free run at the trophy.

Aston Villa look perhaps the most likely to eventually stand up to Sir Alex but unfortunately an austere challenge may be beyond them this season.

It looks like United just have too much. At the back they are as impregnable, dominating in the midfield, while in attack they are stylishly clinical.

All the talk at the moment surrounds Ryan Giggs, with the veteran making a late shout for the footballer of the year crown.

The Welsh wizard is playing with such youthful vigour that Sir Alex might as well stick him back on boot cleaning duties.

Giggs personifies how the modern day footballer should conduct himself. Quiet and unassuming off the field and uniquely talented and hardworking on it.

The youngster’s who are currently observing him around the first team such as Evans, Rafael, Nani, Possebon and Wellbeck should all be taking notes.

For the man who endorsed Quorn’s introduction into the U.K food markets talents are so strong that they bring meat and leaf eaters together for a nutrition-less Giggsy-Wiggsy love-in.

And come the end of the season the most decorated player in English football history may well be donning more silverware and heading out on the town for a veggie burger to celebrate.

Capello’s England needs to act as a contraceptive

Many have derided England’s midweek defeat to Spain by saying that as a nation we should be made of sterner stuff.

I think that’s unfair. How many twelve year old Spaniards have you heard about that can impregnate a fifteen year old girl and complete Grand Theft Auto in the same afternoon?

But on Wednesday night hopefully the majority of the countries children were plonked in front of their telly’s watching and learning rather than getting up to any mischief with members of the opposite sex.

We must take a lot from the match in Seville; mainly that we need to become more like the Spaniards.

We need players who are comfortable in possession in any area of the pitch and who dare to play without lumping the ball forward without any clear direction.

At times Spain too play with the old P.E teacher aphorism “if in doubt boot it out” as many times Pique was no-nonsense in defence.

But for England, that style was all too familiar as our attackers struggled to keep possession from hopeful high balls played into them.

There were positives, Shaun Wright Phillips attacked and defended admirably, we welcomed Michael Carrick back to the team, Beckham celebrated 108 caps with glimpses of genius and Carlton Cole looked like he could become a decent member of the squad.

I thought that despite missing Ferdinand, Gerrard, Rooney, Walcott and Joe Cole we did give a decent account of ourselves.

It was definitely a worthwhile exercise and the game has served as a wakeup call to those who feel that England have become Brobdingnagian overnight under Capello.

Even with the return of some big names we’re not and are very much a work in progress.

I’m sure that we’ll top the group in qualifying and give a good account of ourselves in South Africa next summer.

Who knows by then we may have found the right balance of defensive steel and confidence in possession to see us through to that allusive first final since ’66.

God knows we need it…if only to give our school kids something else to do with their time than making babies.

The magic of the F.A Cup…in less than two calories.

A tiny hard sweet made broadcasting history this week as the 2009 advertising campaign for Tic-Tacs became an image entrenched with the F.A Cup.

It happened as ITV, who were screening the match, accidentally cut to adverts while the game was reaching its climax causing viewers to miss Dan Gosling’s first ever minty fresh Everton goal.

Armchair fans were in uproar as the air in television gallery turned as blue as a Christian Bale film set.

Bale’s outburst made the news this week as he exploded at some poor underpaid lighting bloke whilst filming. It was certainly unexpected to hear him react the way he did, although maybe he just couldn’t get out of character, although this was the new Terminator film and not a biopic of Joe Kinnear.

The whole sorry incident of the breath sweet has caused many to lampoon the broadcaster who has already been the target of much ridicule for its shoddy FA Cup highlights packages.

But their incompetence at programming adverts may in a way have reignited our passions for the cup.

Its authenticity as a serious competition has been much maligned due to dwindling attendances and squad reshuffling by some of the premierships elite.

But it just shows what it still means to the people of this country when we react with such indignation when we see the F.A Cup being abused by lazy broadcasters.

Cast your mind back to some of the competition’s best moments; Ronnie Radford’s screamer against Newcastle, Dave Beasant saving John Aldridge’s penalty against Liverpool at Wembley or the final whistle being blown as Sutton United knocked out Coventry City. What if these memories had been tarnished by visual confectionary pamphlets?

You can widen it up, what if television advertising had ruined Neil Armstrong’s first steps on the moon by playing out a mistimed verruca advert just as he was about to bark his immortal “one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind” catchphrase.

And think of the furore if one of those “Had an accident” personal injury claim ads had been cut to during Elton John’s moving performance of “Candle in the Wind” during Princess Diana’s funeral.

What if ITV were to let that happen again in the final? How many millions of people would miss out on Burnley’s winning goal against Manchester United?

I dream of course, because as the haze clears from my sleepy eyes I can see myself running away celebrating with my arm aloft following a thunderous thirty yard strike that left Van Der Saar as helpless as Carol Thatcher at a Black Panther meeting.

In summary of this calorie redundant sweet episode I suppose it’s the old cliché “that’s the magic of the cup” that springs to mind.

ITV have messed up but how probable is it that this misdemeanour could only have taken place during an FA Cup tie?

“It would never happen on the BBC” said one text message to a radio show after the event.

I’ll let you debate their use or neglect of irony.