Churning

In sympathy with City, my stomach roiled and boiled last night, just after the final whistle. For the first time in ages, I was nastily sick all over the toilet and surrounding floorspace. I actually think my stomach was unsettled for most of the day, but it was only after being sick that I realised it. Funny, really.

On a day when Chelsea madness took a further step forward, and when Israeli madness seemed to take a tentative step backwards, City inevitably bowed out of the Champions League for another year. Not a great show from us, it has to be said, though there was at least a little bit of fight in the second half. The penalty was something of a gift, and it never really felt as if we were going to get another goal. Clearly, the damage was done at the Bernabeu when we surrendered an unlikely lead and gave the game away in those crazy last few minutes. In all honesty, we have been pretty conclusively outplayed in all of our CL fixtures this year, with both Dortmund and Ajax making us look slightly amateurish, and appearing very naive in allowing the Spaniards back in at that first match. More than the Galacticos however, I was hugely impressed with both the other two, but especially the Germans, who look to be an extremely accomplished and combative side, able to give any Premier League team a torrid time.

And there's the essence of the thing really. This year's season at the top table of English club football has been of even lower quality than last. No disrespect to West Brom, and apologies to the once cultured Hammers, but the presence of these two teams so near the top of the league really speaks to that drop in standards. It's all to the good, I suppose, to have a more open competition, and it would be great if the Prem were more like the Championship, with any team capable of beating any other at any time. Yet it doesn't help the standing of English football in the European elite.

It's not all bad though. For the moment, we are top of the league, a point ahead of the Rags, and starting to play a little better. As well as that, Rafa Benitez is installed at Chelsea, and one can only hope that his arrival will not be one of those which galvanizes a moribund team into action. Finally, my own predilection for getting scores and outcomes correct is starting to become a little bit scary. I rightly said 2-1 against Spurs, tipped a heavy win with Tevez goals against Villa and predicted a draw against Mourinho's men last night. As far as Chelsea go on Sunday (in case you fancy a punt) I reckon 2-1 City. You can have that one on me.

Polly

Well, maybe my last post did make all the difference in keeping Rooney [sic] out of the White House. Who knows? The Ajax match didn't exactly work out as one might have hoped however. As it happens, I was at the theatre, watching my eldest perform in a version of Hamlet while the match kicked off. Quite good (Hamlet, I mean) it was too, and I think may have further cemented the kid's love for the stage. Why not, eh? I realise, as much from my lover as anyone else, that acting is a tough profession, and a road as likely to lead to tears and fears as any in life - yet, there are a lot of good things to be said for it, and who am I to ruin a young girl's dream - if indeed that is what it will become? Maybe she will have her hopes dashed, and end up working in transportation or facilities management, but she will sure as hell have an interesting enough life if she sticks with it.

But, as often seems to happen, it was Twitter getting itself arse about face which caused me some confusion as I sat in the darkened theatre surreptitiously checking my phone. There was no mention of either of their opening goals until too late, and in a cruel twist, notification of the first (what a fucking joke of a goal that was) only came in after the match had finished, by which time I had managed to get home and watch the last infuriating 20 minutes or so. Blah blah, you can't blame the officials; blah blah, not good enough over the two matches; blah blah poor tactics. It all may well be true, but it doesn't half piss me off sometimes. Kun's third goal of the night, and his second disallowed one, should definitely have counted, and Mario was clearly fouled in the box at the end. Regardless of what those fucking idiots with the wands are supposed to be doing behind the goal line (and someone on Twitter pointed out that it was one of these dweebs who indicated this was not a penalty, though I haven't had chance to look closely at it again yet) the ref himself should have blown for that, and then we would have had another last gasp Balotelli pen to look forward to.

Alas, it was not to be. I'm also not going to change my view about the use of technology either, which is that it should not be used. Part of the whole emotional charge of footy is the argument in the pub after a match as to whether a decision was right or wrong, and in general things do balance out (unless you're a filthy cheating Rag with the ref in your back pocket) so to complain is churlish and a waste of time.

One of those teams of course who could have quite a few good reasons to complain are coming up agin us this weekend. The mighty Spurs no less, facing their own seemingly endless battle with the fates and struggling to come to terms with the overrated AVB. Personally, I don't think this will be an easy one either, although Defoe getting a hat trick midweek is not an indicator that he will play well - or even play at all - on Sunday. Cautiously, I would suggest a 2-1 win, but would not be too surprised at a draw. I desperately desperately desperately want Tevez to get a goal as recognition for all the hard shifts he has put in. Will little Silva come back into the side at last? Will I be at the theatre? No fucking chance! Come on City!

We had joy, we had fun

Quite an interesting week in all. I'm struggling through the seemingly endless The Shape of Things to Come and really wishing it would end, although the ideas are very interesting. The problem I've found is that the stuff which speaks about the current and future worlds is far less interesting than the historical chapters - those concerning the First World War and the inter-war years. Having said that, the whole concept of a World Government is something which seems particularly resonant at the present time, where it's clear that the structures of capitalism and the legendary democracy we're supposed to be so proud of are crumbling before our eyes.

The weekend's TUC march would have been a must-attend for me a few years ago, especially in the current climate of fear and suffering inflicted on so many people. For personal reasons (I'm too old, and too worried about the potential impact on my work life... I am as scared as everyone else, I suppose) and as a result of my thoughts on where we are headed, I did not go, did not feel the need to go. Protest itself (at least as it's done these days) seems somehow unsatisfactory. Like so much of modern life, it all feels so corporate and hollow. What will Ed Miliband contribute from the stump at Hyde Park? What will he say that is going to make a blind bit of difference? A dead horse is a dead horse, whether it's wearing blue or red livery, I say. So the pleasure of seeing Andrew Mitchell resign, as well as Osborne and the first class fiasco, delicious as it was, still had the edge taken off it slightly by the fact that there really isn't any alternative.

How utterly insane is it that there are now articles in newspapers stating that the slump is over, and that we're on the road to recovery? How does that mean anything to the mother who has to borrow money for her Lidl shopping, or the family living in a dingy B&B, trying to get their kids through school? Where is the sense in the opening of a vast new restaurant, actually an old warehouse, specialising in meat in EC2 when huge numbers of people are either starving or morbidly obese?

Anyway, to stop another of my directionless, depressive rants, I will console myself with the fact that I got the result right at the Hawthorns, even if there was a very late goal from the fabulous Dzeko (Oh-ohhhh, Edin Dzeko, oh-ohhhh, Edin Dzeko!) to clinch it.

   

 Now, I hope that my prediction for Ajax tomorrow will be wrong, because a draw will really not be good enough for us in the Champions League. I don't know enough about the Dutch side at the moment, only that they are not playing terribly well, so I can't really say whether I think we can win it. Let's see.

Overall, the performances have been just about good enough, and we're only a couple of goals adrift of the Rags, with Chelsea maintaining good form and looking very hard to beat. I am struck by the fact that journalists base so many of their assumptions on a single match: City are showing the form of champions; Dzeko is a super sub; all the other guff that gets spouted. When I went to Fulham a few weeks ago, I thought they were a pretty terrible side, largely bereft of attacking ideas at home for at least the second half, and yet they are 6th in the table. It all points - yet again - to a dearth of really good teams in the Premier League.

A bout de souffle

Well, what can we say about that? We certainly can't complain about a lack of excitement. I am disappointed, if not as much as Hart, that we ended up losing, but in truth it would have been something of a mugging if we had got a win. I'm really not sure what to say about the game, so I think I'll just list each player and say a few words about their performance, along with giving them a mark out of 10.

Hart. One of his best performances between the sticks, I think. Made several excellent saves and a few other correct decisions. Though I (grudgingly) agree in part with Killer Keane on ITV that he might have been slightly at fault for their second, I disagree that he could be criticised for the third. I'd give Joe 8 out of 10.

Maicon. H'mm. Clearly short of pace at 31, he nonetheless showed some creativity. Should perhaps not have been put up against Ronaldo, who was unlucky not to score two or three more. I'll give Maicon only a 5.

Nastasic. Strangely thrown into a monumental debut, he did show some good stuff, though was as guilty as many of City's back line with some incredibly casual defending. As he's young, I'll give him a 6, and think he will be an improvement on Lescott.

Clichy. Not the force he can be in Premier League games, he disappointed slightly. He can have a 5.

Kompany. Though sometimes solid, the challenge of stopping Mourinho's men eventually took its toll. He was booked, and should not have ducked when Ronaldo hit the winning goal. 5 out of 10.

Barry. Seemed like an England player in being out of his depth on occasion. I can't recall him contributing much to the game. He gets a 5 as well.

Nasri. Another disappointing outing before going off injured. Often goes missing just when you need him most, and is not the player he thinks he is, or should be. Only 4 for Samir.

Javi Garcia. Still early days. I think he has potential, but again was way too lax defensively. I can only go as far as a 5.

Silva. Struggling still to match the sublime levels he reached last season, but always lurking dangerously. Sadly, I can't give him more than a 5.

Yaya. Yet again, a truly Herculean performance, and at the heart of everything good we did. He grew into the game, and is a magnificent player. 9 out of 10.

Tevez. Although he gave the ball away a lot in the early stages, he never stopped trying. Isolated in attack, but more of a threat after Nasri went off. I'll be generous and give Carlos a 6.

Dzeko. Took his goal well, and contributed well to the team as sub. Hit and miss on times, but more of a hit last night. Deserves a 7.

Kolarov. Gives me the jitters in defence, but his dead ball skills are undeniable, evidenced by the goal from his free kick. A solid 6.

Zabaleta. A real workhorse, who tirelessly legs it up and down the field. He was there and gets a 6.

Bobby. Strange choices in team set up, though who knows what lies behind Balotelli being left out? I also have to reluctantly agree with Richard Williams' criticism that Mancini shows his anger all too readily. The ridiculous attack on Hart frames the game for the tabloids and makes him look like a twat. I don't think Hart said anything controversial, and he did have the microphone shoved in his face just minutes after losing the match so dramatically. Mancini gets 5 out of 10.

There's a lot of hard work now to stay in this, although Ajax beating Dortmund does give some cause for optimism. So far, this is proving to be one of those 'difficult second seasons'.

Forward

Well, the Hillsborough drama continues, eagerly watched, and yet we all must move on to the next fixture. Before the Bernabeu trip next week, we have the little matter of sodding Stoke away again. I'm never comfortable with the trip up there, and it's always a tough assignment. I have a recurring daymare of Michael Owen scoring against us, and keep remembering that Crouch volley from last season with a shudder. The Graun is wondering whether Bobby will rest Yaya and others for the Champions League game, and whether he will pay the price if he does. Frankly, it's a match I could do without, especially at this time, but that is not an option. I'm hopeful of a 2-0 victory, and it will be nice to see some of the new buys get a run, but I fear a low scoring draw or worse.

As for the Madrid match, sorry to say that I'm not overly optimistic about that one either. They always look very strong, even though as a Barca fan when it comes to the Iberian peninsula I hate them, and Mourinho (you have to say) knows what he's doing. Perhaps that little twat Ronaldo really is unhappy there, and won't be arsed playing at his best, but I'm not holding my breath. Agüero is on his way back, and didn't play for the Argies even though he went out with them, so where there's Kun there's hope. Word is that he will be back in the team in time for the Champions League tie.

It was difficult to guage from the England games what sort of form our players are in. Hart is giving me a bit of the collywobbles, though he wasn't terrible. He seems to be making some strange decisions when it comes to crosses. Milner was I thought one of the better players for England against the Ukraine, but it was hardly a scintillating team performance. The one positive was that Cleverly was so utterly shite (I stand by my pre-season prediction that Arsenal will do better than the Rags this season) even if I'm not sure where that leaves us in World Cup terms. Up shit creek, I suppose.

Adequate

I suppose you could say that City's showing the other night was adequate, though I did feel Bobby's joy with him at the end.

A win, as the wise ones on 5Live were pointing out, was what mattered. And a win we got. A last gasp, lovely, final minute win from the man of the moment - Kun. May God bless his boots. So now the Champions League march is (just about) still on, and off we go to the Sty on Sunday. I wouldn't like to call the result of that one at this stage, but I do think it will be a close one. One goal either way or a low scoring draw is my considered view.

I have thought long and hard over the years about the notion of adequacy. Especially in relation to my own stumbling progress through life. Some years ago, I was made redundant from my job at the House of Mouse, after over 10 years in their employ. This wasn't one of those cost saving chops, but was rather a calculated re-structure to form a group from which I was to be forever excluded. I think I know the reasons for it happening, and they were eminently practical and in no way personal. Yet this doesn't change the feelings of inadequacy the episode left me with.

The story goes that I was responsible for managing (among other things) the engineering maintenance for the company's London HQ. I have never been any sort of engineer, but in reality that shouldn't matter too much. My boss, if anything, was less knowledgeable than I was, and certainly knew a damned sight less than I did about (for example) voice telecoms, where my expertise used to be, but no longer remains, valuable and current. His lack of knowledge did not matter because it was his leadership - the formation and development of his team of subject matter experts - which carried the day.

However that may be, I remember a visit from a senior IT manager from Burbank just before the redundancy was announced. There were concerns that the data suite housing the servers was vulnerable to failure. Indeed, the chillers for this room would fail on a regular basis, and the back-up systems in place were far from resilient. Many was the time I received a late night phone call saying that these systems had failed, and that the temperatures were fast approaching critical levels, though at no time (with the exception of a major local power failure) was there any unplanned interruption to the servers. I knew then that money would have solved the problem, but was not allowed to spend what was needed.

That being said, time is money, and the IT man wanted to know what we were going to do about it. No servers meant no email and no money counting, and this was a serious business. I fear that I may have slightly exposed my lack of technical knowledge at a meeting with him, where I remember being fixated on his very large, very white USA teeth, which actually impeded his ability to speak clearly, and tried to sketch a schematic of the UPS set-up for the server room on a piece of paper. That was where it all began, I think. I was edged out of the door in the nicest possible way and have gone on to other things since.

And yet, there is a persistent sense of failure, a bad smell following it all which has lingered in the air, and there are occasions when I mull over it with a red cheeked shame. I was, after all, not good enough; was weighed in the balance and found wanting. Despite the fact that my manager has since suffered the same fate as I did, this feeling sometimes imbues me with a sense of anger towards him (though it is certain that White Teeth Man played a significant role in the decision) for telling me I was out the door. There is no doubt that my self-confidence - fragile flower that it is - took a severe knock from it. But I'm over it now. Honest.

Oom pah pah

Well, it must be a momentous occasion. I dreamt that my dick had fallen off last night - apparently a sign of anxiety (no kidding!) although in that dream logic state, I was more concerned with a) covering up the lost member as it lay on the bedroom floor because a visitor was due to visit, b) how my jeans would look without the standard man bulge and c) staining the quilt with the wound site - and emasculated may be the theme of the coming days and weeks. I also dreamt (separately) that the sink had been removed from the kitchen and the cooker stripped back to its bare bones by the landlord. Although there isn't an interpretation of 'emasculation' on this crappy US website, the following does relate to 'amputation':

"To dream that your limbs are amputated signifies abandoned talents and serious, permanent losses. It indicates your feelings of frustration, powerlessness and helplessness. Sometimes amputation may also represent a situation that you have been ignoring and has finally reached a crisis point. In particular, to dream that your arms are amputated suggests that you lack motivation. Dreaming that you legs are amputated suggests that you are being limited. Something or someone is hindering your progress and where you want to go in life."

Fairly straightforward.

I'm sure that the anxiety has nothing to do with our trip to Bavaria this evening, though I do fear that a win may well be beyond us. Mancini is talking up our chances. What else can he do? Though looking at the stats on Munich, I think caution will be needed at the very least. They've won 6 out of their 7 matches, scoring 21 goals in the process, and their keeper hasn't conceded in 838 minutes. Jesus. I hope I will be forgiven by the City faithful (and I am very appreciative of the nice little write-up on this blog from The Mancunian Way. Cheers!) as much for not having attended any matches (home or away) for two seasons now as for living in London, and it's a fairly safe bet that I won't be in Germany tonight either, so I'm not really sure how or if I'm going to watch the match. Of course it's not on terrestrial telly, and doubtless the Rags will be favoured in the public house should I venture up there with the gas and leccy money for a couple of pints. So it may be good old 5 Live yet again.

Neither are my worries excessively related to the sodding global economic crisis, Operation Twist and all that bollocks. Every plunge is answered with a rally. It's worse than the Daily Mail health advice, isn't it? On that subject, age of course is another matter. Fresh (if that's the word) from my mother's 70th birthday celebrations in Morda over the weekend, the inevitable musings on death and general health naturally intrude, though I nonetheless feel that it's not too late to turn things around. Really.

No. More pressing to me is that old chestnut: work. Tomorrow, after having a glorious 6 days out of the thick of it, it's back to yet another re-structure announcement. A further redundancy is definitely on the cards - given the short length of service I have managed to squeeze under my bulging belt, and I have to wait and see until perhaps 4 o'clock tomorrow afternoon to find out what will happen to me. CV has been sharpened in preparation and I have been perusing the jobs pages of FM World for a little while, but it's not the same without the incentive of being on the dole to push one on.

Come on City! Come on me!