No Telling

A couple of observations from Sunday's match.

It was a good game - for the neutral - and incident packed. The early stages (unfairly panned I thought by the 5 Live mob) were marked out by some dreadful officiating. I clearly saw Milner calling the assistant referee a wanker and telling him to fuck off, and I have to say I thought he was 100% right. This atmosphere was instrumental in setting the scene for Sturridge's goal, though in fairness we had scored against the run of play (if the run of play can include - which I think it can - incompetent officials) prior to that. This doesn't mean that we can be vindicated for switching off when Dzeko was 'injured', and I felt that it was criminal (as well as somehow inevitable) to allow the concentration to lapse so badly there.

Early signs, other than my own gut feeling beforehand that we might draw - or even lose - this one, of the problems we faced were the high lofted balls over the back four or three. Thanks to the way the game is played (or at least refereed) these days, there was a nervousness about the defence getting tight to Sturridge and Suarez and being penalised with a penalty or a card. More evidence of this nervousness about the ball over the top or round the back was seen with that heart-stopping mix-up between Zab and Joe. Almost one of those moments we as City fans know all too well, but mercifully the ball just trickled wide of the post. On top of that, Sturridge I thought had one of the best games I've ever seen him play. He's been quick and lethal at scoring in patches before, but the move to Liverpool is obviously a very positive one for him. Every time he got on the ball he looked a threat - more so even than Suarez - and without him Liverpool would have been a much reduced force.

It seems difficult to single out anyone in the City team as not playing well. Dzeko I often feel could really do more, but - his softness after that foul notwithstanding - he did score after all. Hart (I don't think, though there are some doubts) can be blamed for either goal. Lescott maybe a little shaky at times, but not massively so. Silva - as ever - truly sublime early on, but clearly tired by the second half. Bobby's substitutions were questioned and questionable, in my humble opinion. Maybe there was something wrong with Tevez, but I felt he was the natural choice for subbing when we were chasing the win. Maicon was a mystery to me, but then he has been since we signed him. Fitting somehow that there were two truly top class goals from Stevie G and Kun to even the match out, and of course we're still in the race, Bobby. Of course we are.

Now it's on to the Saints this Saturday tea time. This should be (perhaps has to be) a good win for us. Still, at times we were beautiful to watch, and even if we don't do the Rags 6-1 and win the title again this season, I'd still rather be a City fan.

Seeking refuge

I like Zoe Williams. Her pieces are always cogent, warm hearted and intelligent, and she isn't afraid of dipping BTL to engage with all manner of beasts who spout their mean-spirited anger at her words. A recent article on asylum seekers illustrates these points beautifully. In this piece, she writes about the insanity of those on Section 4 orders. Here is the opening  paragraph from the Home Office web page on the issue:

'This page explains how you may qualify for short-term support if your application for asylum was unsuccessful, but you temporarily cannot return to the country you came from and will otherwise be homeless or unable to afford food. (We call this 'destitute'.)'

Clear enough, I suppose. The madness of the order is that the Home Office is refusing the claim for asylum (or else the claimant is appealing an expulsion decision, which is clearly far worse) but admits that the countries to which these people would return is too dangerous for them to do so. The status of a Section 4 order bars them from doing any paid work, and means that they receive benefits only in voucher form - known, in strangely poetic terms, as an Azure Card, valued at the princely sum of £35.39 per person per week. It is difficult to imagine just how hard it must be to live under these conditions, and Zoe tells of mothers and pregnant women walking miles to get their shopping, unable to even use cash for a bus fare.

It's no surprise (although always slightly amazing that trolls manage to get in so early and stifle or divert the debate) that the foul creatures oozed all over it immediately, citing the usual claptrap about economic (rather than political) migration and refugees suspiciously not escaping to the nearest country to their own, because our benefits system is so generous - ha ha ha. All highly objectionable, and I'm sure I don't need to debunk any of this to my own intelligent readership. I will simply link to this piece of research from the Refugee Council and leave it at that. What I'm really interested in is what is at the heart of such attitudes. Racism, clearly, plays a major part. That's obvious, no matter how hotly some of them may deny it. But there is more. Underpinning it all is this English sense of fairness, a feeling that people shouldn't be getting something to which they are not entitled. Many (though by no means all) agree that political asylum is a necessary good; that we as a relatively rich nation should be prepared to help those who are genuinely in need as a result of oppressive regimes in the places where they live. Yet, they feel that the majority of those who come to our shores do so not because their lives are in danger, but because we are a soft touch. This shapes - and is shaped by - government policy. In other words, founded on pure unadulterated bullshit and nasty inhumanity.

So long Mario. It was a fun ride, but let's not do it again. I am a bit concerned about our strike force, with the Tuesday bore draw against the Hoops making life more difficult. Now we face the Scousers on Sunday, with them worryingly finding some kind of form at long last, and I fear the worst. Unless the gods smile and ignore yet another 'I've got a soft spot...' comment so carelessly made in the pub last night.

Brave

Did Barry Norman ever say: 'Hello, I'm Barry Norman'? I can't remember.

Anyway, I'm not Barry Norman, but here is my review of the current movie scene, film fans. I'm sure Barry Norman never said anything remotely resembling that, but I need to distract myself from the shambles that is Manchester City at the moment (despite - finally - the sale of Adrian Bayor, we still have Roque Santa Cruz on staff, so things will never be right while that state of affairs continue, if you ask me. If Liverpool hadn't insisted on Keystone Cops style defending, we wouldn't have got a point out of that) and present you with my review of the latest Pixar offering: Brave, which I went to see with the kids yesterday.

Wood Green is never the most salubrious of locations, and I have to say that my mood before going into the cinema wasn't lightened by an encounter with a group of rude and aggressive people outside the doors of the Mall, where the Cineworld 12 screen complex is located. I'm ashamed to say that I was so disconcerted by the behaviour displayed by this bunch of yahoos that I called them a word which I don't normally use, and of which I definitely don't approve. Mind you, I didn't say it very loud, because I wasn't keen on getting my head kicked in.

Which, I suppose, doesn't make me very brave, unlike the heroine of the piece on the big screen. There have been mutterings about comfortable corporate interference in the Pixar brand with this latest piece, which I'm sure the House of Mouse will carefully consider once it has finished banking the $67 million from its opening weekend and the other several million dollars from subsequent weekends, weekdays, consumer products, etc, etc... Sniffy references to Scottish stereotypes and cheap kilt gags are all very well, but me and the kids enjoyed it, so there.

In all seriousness, I think Disney need to be careful with the stupendous Pixar brand, because it really does have something special, and although I don't think any serious damage has been done with this, there are some troubling signs in the film's edging towards the more traditional Disney animation style of film. Some tremendous sequences were negatively balanced by exaggerated blocky characterisation.

Some talk has been expelled (who knows whether the Disney PR machine is responsible for this crap. It wouldn't surprise me) about Merrida being a lesbian because she doesn't want to marry any of the Jocko parody men laid before her as suitors. I call bullshit on this one, and would say that the story is ultimately a simple one about compromise and family love, given added weight by throwing in a witch and a giant psychotic bear. Hugely enjoyable nonetheless, and wonderfully enhanced by Billy Connolly's reference to Tatty Bogle (who featured in my formative years thanks to the Scottish fiancee of my City supporting uncle John)  in the opening few minutes.

Recommended ****.

Not just anybody

Meaning no disrespect to the Paralympics, which I always enjoy watching, it seems somehow fitting that the end of the Olympic Games coincides with the Community Shield. Finally, the season is starting and, for once, City can head into it more in expectation than in hope.

The annual Guardian prediction column has us as favourites. I hesitantly agree, and think that we really should be living up to the hype this year. No signings yet, but not too much panic, except perhaps in central defence should we be without Kompany for any reason. Agger I'm not sure about, though everyone seems to think he's a decent player. As for the opposition, I believe that Liverpool have finally settled on being a second tier club; their ambition severely curtailed by the harsh economic reality they are facing. Chelsea will be a threat - always will while big Roman is digging into his pockets - though I don't believe that Di Matteo is the real deal. I think I said this before, but Arsenal will be better than last season, with or without Van Persie. Spurs I'm not sure about. Again, a good squad, but light in attack. The Rags?

Ah, the Rags. I'm not expecting great things from them, but they will be there or thereabouts, because they still have a great deal of talent, and a point to prove. Another couple of seasons, unless something unexpected happens, and a decline will set in. That's what I think. So, my prediction for the top 10 in full:

1. City
2/3. Chelsea
3/2. Rags
4. Arsenal
5. Spurs
6/7. Everton
7/6. Liverpool
8/9. Newcastle
9/8. Fulham
10. Anyone else from the rest with Soton at the foot

Fraying

Well, to return from my stump to the subjet du jour, it has been a not uneventful few days in City land. First we had the amazing scenes against Spurs last weekend, then the Scousers dumping us out of the piss weak lager Cup on Wednesday. Lots of talking points and lots of opinions. There can be no doubt that the pressure of success is telling on City, with our inability to put any real distance between us and a pack of truly mediocre teams revealing in itself. Not all of the pressure is internal (and I'll come on to that) though quite a bit of it is. Balotelli is the obvious case in point. I do find him entertaining as a man, I must admit, though he is a very frustrating footballing 'talent' on too many occasions, and needless to say (because everybody is saying it all the time) his incendiary temper and ability to attract publicity like a supercharged Pete Doherty is depressingly well documented.

On the stamp, as evidenced by a piece on here from some time ago, I'm no fan of Scott (Batman) Parker, and given the intensely critical timing of the incident which could so easily have cost us the game - if not the season - my initial reaction was that it was accidental. Having watched it again (and again) I am no longer convinced of that fact. However, the deed is done and the game was won in the most dramatic fashion. Unlike the Liverpool match, which was really decided in the dreary home leg. Again though, from what I could tell on 5Live, it seemed a decent enough ding dong do, with a couple of cracking goals to boot. Stand up NDJ - what a man! And who - despite the shocking and frankly bad tasting decline of a once mighty Liverpool team - could wish ill on that Welsh bastard Bellamy, with his African school? Only those with a heart of stone, that's who. So that's that. It's just a shame that major finals are no longer held in Cardiff.

Those who bemoan the fate of City, who are not eppy, and scream that we are victimised and put upon, will elicit little sympathy from me, although lazer blue blood courses through my furry arteries, and I am avowedly CTID. For me, the main culprits (and I exclude Savic only out of deferring to his extreme callowness) are Nasri and Lescott, with the uncertainty around Big Nige's future also seeming to be playing a part in a decline in his form. Mancini cannot be excused either, and has indeed come under fire for both team selection and tactics in recent weeks. As I said above, we should be streaking ahead of the dross that is the Premier League this season, while instead we are floundering a little and just keeping our noses in front.

That all said, there can be no doubt that the very fact of success brings a pressure of its own. Everyone wants to have a pop, and even referees are inclined to change their behaviour. But, now we're out of the Carling Cup and the FA Cup, I think we should make every endeavour to drop out of the Europa League and concentrate on winning the main prize.

Zippin up my Roots

I've just picked up a copy of Alex Haley's Roots from the library. It's a good read, and once I started getting into it, memories of the TV series came flooding back (I once visited the outdoor set at Golden Oaks ranch in California, where some of the sequences in Roots II were shot, and my word, how evocative and amazing was that, even though Roots II was crap compared to Roots?) and I became curious around the subject. Intriguing that this partly phony exploration of a man's personal history should cause a refelction on my own. I think it must have been 1976 or 1977 when the programme was on TV, and I was in the early years of my secondary education. Every Monday would entail a ritual Kunta Kinte or Chicken George impression among those of us at Oswestry Boys High School. My own family tree stops dead on my mother's side (a little further back on my dad's side - as far as a housemaid in rural Kent - about 4 generations before my dad) just before my great grandmother, thanks to some, shall we say, extra-marital issues, so how incredible, I thought, for this guy to be able to trace his family history so far back (to mid 18th Century Gambia, in case you were unaware and interesed) and I admit I wondered how it was done.

Well of course it turns out that he not only didn't actually trace his (whole) family tree, but more than that, he stole large chunks of the book from someone else's novel. What a crock! Harold Courlander (for it was he from whom the work was nicked) seems a fascinating character, responsible for some invaluable research into oral traditions in Africa, North America and elsewhere. Harold received an out of court settlement for the admitted plagiarism, though may have been wiser - given the huge success of the franchise - to have taken his case all the way. He probably didn't receive as much as he could have (the information in the Roots link above seems to say that the settlement was around $650,000, in 1978) through a rights deal, but also the fame associated with such a seminal piece of work lies solely with Mr Haley. Anyway, having just passed the circumcision scene, I will continue with the book and hunt out the series on YouTube or elsewhere, while fomenting my own imagined youthful adventures among the arafangs of Oswestry town.

All of which brings me to footballing roots, and a remark made on Sunday while I was in the corner shop at the same time (oh happy chance!) as a Rag, shortly after the match had finished. "You don't sound as if you're from Manchester...?" he said, gauntly, and I replied: "No, I'm not." Whatever the rights and wrongs of the Kompany red card, I think the time has well passed for City fans to get over it. We don't want to end up looking like sour grapes Scousers bemoaning our fate, especially as everyone knows we've got tons and tons of cash and about 600 players out on loan. I personally think we should take great comfort in our performance, reflect on what was an excellent match and get on with playing Liverpool. Again. And again. And again.

Patchy

A happy 2012 to all.

After an accident with a set of clippers on New Year's Day, I have a neat bald patch about 2 inches square on the left side of my head, just behind the temple. The resulting requirement to crop the rest of my hair as close as I felt able (I possess a phrenologist's dream scalp in places and have no desire to share my intriguing lunar formations with the wider populace, thank you very much) has left me feeling as if I look rather like a very large baby, and it will I'm sure take a while for me to grow accustomed. This follicular debacle - making me somewhat frightened to remove my hat this morning - has so far at least proved to be less of an embarrassment than I thought it would, although the almost total indifference of my co-workers is probably because they could fucking care less. Then again, my merciless (not really) kids didn't laugh as much as I thought they would, so perhaps it isn't all that bad. Maybe I should follow the advice of a City fan on Twitter, who told me to go for a Balo. Or maybe not.

I have made a resolution not to talk about the global financial situation, at least for a while, so will instead seek the shaven haven of the beautiful game, and the reinforcement of my recent pleasure/pain principle treatise over the New Year schedule. Wonderfully surprising to hear the Rags go down at home to Blackburn as it was, I admit to feeling a little shiver of schadenfreude fear as I gloatingly texted my Rag mate; with City's visit to the Stadium of Light still ahead, this was perhaps an unwise act. Of course it came back to haunt me in spectacular style as I sat in the kitchen with a 2 inch square bald patch on the side of my head listening to the ghost of the Roker Roar spew out of the radio with the final kick of the match.

There was a horrible inevitability to the defeat, though - despite showing alarming signs of reverting to the old City ways of leaving ourselves wide open at the back, and undoubtedly grateful early on that Bendtner was on their team - of course we wuz robbed. Dzeko had a shocker, with his purple patch in October/November now long forgotten and a veritable host of chances casually wasted. I'm struggling with Nasri I must admit, and can't really figure out which position he is supposed to be playing in, hovering languidly on the left flank as he was before switching with AJ to slightly greater effect (though AJ was by far the bigger threat throughout) a little later. I'm increasingly of the mind that Nasri really was a player too far after all, and was happy when Bobby hooked him for Merlin. When the coloured continent (thanks Alan!) beckons later this month, I fear for us without the persistent and unpredictable talents of the mighty Yaya.

But before that, the first of many closer threats loom in the shape of the Scousers tonight. King Kenny's men up the 62 with a spring in their step and a hearty 'negrito' hello to Mario from them all I'm sure. Could be another mugging, but let's wait and see.

Tight squeak

Fresh from my sojourn in Shropshire, it was not the ideal way to watch such a crucial match as the one at Anfield. I heard of Gary Speed's death from Diana In Heaven, who always seems to be ahead of the curve when it comes to dead people, and is usually very amusing, though there was only a 'what the fuck?' appended to Speedo's sudden appearance in the firmament yesterday. His death did not seem to overshadow the game though, and it looked like a fair old battle.

Mario proved yet again that a reputation will always precede and follow you, with the second challenge being - to say the least - more than harshly punished. I never did like Skrtel particularly; along with Lucas Leiva, one of those proficient and dull players which aren't going to recall the great days of LFC long past. Not an ideal day to watch a match, because we were having a little festive food and drink party at home, so it was all about furtive sneaking into the bedroom to listen to the radio between bouts of socialising.

Anyway, we stuck at it, and - thanks to the fabulous Joe Hart, retained our unbeaten league record. It's possible that, despite Hart's late heroics, we could perhaps have fashioned a win if we'd made more of some earlier chances, and if Lescott hadn't stuck out that bloody leg. Overall, I think I'm happy with a 1-1 at Anfield, especially as the Rags were so laughably held to the same scoreline at the Swamp, and especially after what I hear was a pretty poor show in Napoli during the week - a game which again escaped my close attention, sitting as I was in a pub in Shrewsbury which did not have the necessary evil of Sky Sports. It was with much glee that I overheard some dickhead Enfield Rag rant about how United were all over Newcastle, and should have destroyed them; how City have always been 'Shitty' for him, not a football club, just money... blah blah blah. Fucking wanker.

The ludicrous scheduling of matches, where a long and largely unnecessary break for international matches is followed by terrible fixture congestion means that (at least some form of) City schlep down to London on Tuesday night to play (at least some form of) Arsenal. And I will be in the crowd on that night, mingling with the unwashed Gooners' offspring, sitting on my hands. Not the offspring, of course.

Shoot me

Yesterday I turned down the opportunity of a ticket to Saturday's match at Wembley. City faithful and others among my readership will perhaps be surprised at this, but I can assure you that there are several good reasons, not all of which I'll go into here. Two reasons I will give however, are as follows:
1. Money
2. Hopelessness

Things are a little tight for me following changes to my personal circumstances, and I cannot really justify whatever astronomical cost I would have had to pay to get to and into HA9 on a warm Saturday tea time. Having been to Wemberlee before (on a jolly as well as a paid-for excursion) I am fully aware of the true horror involved in buying a pint of beer there.

Following the disastrous display against the Scousers the other night, and watching the ongoing clusterfuck juggernaut that is the Rags' season, I can't really believe we will stand much of a chance either. All the talk now is that Tevez may never play for us again, and - if true - what a whimper of a way to end your time at a club, pulling up after an inocuous tackle at Anfield and hobbling off the pitch.

Doubtless, Lord Berba will extend his goal tally at the home of football and snatch the Golden Boot from under Carlos' nose, leaving only Shrewsbury boy Hart with a sniff of the Golden Glove award.  Really, what are our options without the bolshy little Argy? Dzeko seems to be suffering Torres-itis, and Balotelli is... well, a fairly typical City player, unfortunately. More noted for his bizarre behaviour than his footballing talent; 'the kind of player to get managers the sack' as was pointed out in the Graun on Tuesday, we really cannot expect great things from the man. One ray of hope lies in David Silva, but as I've said before, he's not a goal scorer; another glimmer is in AJ, and I hope he blows more hot than cold.

Not only have I declined the offer of a ticket, but I don't plan to be with any other football fans when the match is on, despite being offered the opportunity to do so. I will be watching on the boob tube, screening my eyes with my fingers, cowering behind the sofa, silently heaving dry sobs into the crook of my elbow.

SUPER Sunday

While it's still fresh. Got to love the moment. Fourteen goals in 3 games. Onuoha doing his chances of appearing for Nigeria in June a power of good by getting a brace, and 4th spot looking good, especially with Spuds providing the final fantasy for the Pompey losers (I don't have a heart of stone, and I can appreciate the amazing-ness of their being in a Cup Final after blah blah blah, but I never liked those bastards, chimes and drummers and shitty little place down there. Sorry.) softening them up for the visit of the Gooners in midweek and inflicting the expected psychological damage which will probably lead to the usual end of term choke-up. On top of that, Scousers unable to put the Gentleman's Club to bed, and the most excellent Mr Allardyce keeping the Rags at bay. All in all, what one might describe as a good day at the office.

With the exception of the goal, Brum were surprisingly meek today. Not on a par with Burnley, by any means, but hardly the street fighters we've come to expect under the tutelage of the Hun Big Eck. They got a lot of bodies in the way in the opening 20 minutes, but never looked as if they would pose a threat, and most definitely melted away when we started to attack them. I have to say that Adebayor had a good game, and I felt sorry for him on two occasions when Carlos could have fed him an easy tap-in, but chose instead to try himself. Never mind. He got his own brace, and it was a definitely pleasing team performance. Thankfully, Kolo Toure was not called on once that I can remember to make a saving tackle.

Now, to my previous statement on the end of season placings. Based on current form, I still expect Chelsea to finish top. Two key games yet to come will decide the position beneath them. Should Arsenal do the Spuds on Wednesday night (which is now a stronger possibility than it was. It's a tough one to call, but I feel that Arsene's boys might just have it in them) then the pressure on SAF will be just that little bit more intensified. Again, however, it's a tough one to call, and City are just as likely to implode as they are to win. I'll stick to my guns and say that the result doesn't really matter as long as it's a decent game, like the one at the Sty all those aeons ago.

For the moment then, I reckon it's going to be as follows:

1. Chelsea
2. Arsenal
3. Rags
4. City
5. Spuds

A lovely day.

I hate to say it

But I fucking told you so. Lucky to heave a draw (thanks to some ridiculous refereeing, it has to be said) with the Potters; and Vieira (rightly) banned for 3 games after spitefully kicking Whelan in the nuts. That, at least, will be a liability (why THE FUCK did we ever sign him? Will someone PLEASE tell me?) lost for a while. Sadly, there are too many other liabilities in the team to think about. Now Bellamy is reminding everyone what an obnoxious little Welsh git he is, though he can occasionally play some decent football. And of course, the filthy Rags scraped a jammy win against the has-beens of Milan.

Incredibly, we are still in 4th place, which says as much about the paucity of the English Premier League this season as it does about Mr Cook's 'journey' or the ludicrous amounts already spent on players who have demonstrated such a poor return on investment. To back up that last statement, I will simply say: Roque Santa Cruz, which roughly translates from the Colombian as 'Totally Shit'.



Some dick on the radio was blabbing on about the lack of creative talent in the game the other day, saying that Rooney and, er, no-one else - oh, all right then, Stevie G as well - was carrying the torch for creative play since Ronaldo joined Real, and that only Adam Johnson - out of all the players in the Premier League - could even dream of approaching the sublime standards set by the ginger Scouse. That's as may be, and watching yet another dour performance at Anfield the other evening, it would be hard to propose any cogent argument against. I tend to fall in the Clough camp when it comes to the reasoning that professional footballers should really know what they are doing, and it is sometimes hard to fathom why so many well paid stars fail to produce the goods so often, though I don't deny that a good motivator can make all the difference in the world.

As for Mancini. Well, I was never that impressed (though for purely partisan reasons, anything has to be an improvement on Sparky) and never took to that ludicrous scarf/suit combo. It could in fact be seen as a symbol of the way he is trying to make the lads play, in that it sits uncomfortably and does not look right. He will learn that catenaccio is not City's way, or indeed any way to play in the Premier League. The fans don't like it, and the players can't deal with it. I read today that Mancini's previous roles called only for him to be the players' coach, and that the other stuff around management was left to an army of others to deal with. Now that he has had to take on the psychology/media relations/people management elements of the job, he is struggling to cope. I know precious little about the set-up in Italian football, but it seems odd to say the least that someone with such limited experience would be thought suitable to boss a club like City.

So - what are my considered views of this weekend's fixture? Will I be able to reproduce the form I have showed to raise me to the top of a very small league? Only time will tell, as I predict yet another 1-1 draw. Prove me wrong City. Prove me wrong.