A Brighter Shade of Bale

Look, you know what, I’d love to write about anything else but frankly the week has been all about one man. So where does Barack Obama go from here? Well, he could do worse than set his Sky Plus for Spurs’ next match so he can watch the Welsh wizard Gareth Bale in action.

'Oh shit, I only went and missed my mouth, look you.'

Oh yes we all love Gareth Bale. Can’t get enough of him. Onan himself couldn’t have covered more inches than the footy press in the last couple of days.

Clearly he’s earned some short-term adulation. And given a bit of credit back to the BT publicists who were luring us into their football coverage pre-season with posters featuring Wes Brown (reserve), Michael Owen (crocked), Shay Given (who’s having a number two of a season) and well the boy wonder himself.

He’s the best thing to come out of Wales since Gareth Thomas erm... came out. Well since Giggs anyway. And it’s a good story cos let’s face it he was a bloody jinx 20 months ago. The Spurs motto was summat like Play Bale Must Fail.

At that time he was an attacking left-back with all the positional sense of paper aeroplane. In other words he was the mirror image of Glen Johnson. He was on the cusp of a loan move to Nottingham Forest – or, as we used to call it before they beat us 1-0 – Obscurity.

Now he’s this big striding, hip-swinging utter roaster of full-backs. It was awesome stuff even though you did have to wonder why Maicon wasn't given more cover by the right side of midfield after Bale's San Siro hat-trick. Why ever that was, you can guarantee it wasn’t Rafa’s fault.

Maicon is of course, the world’s best right-back (although against Gareth Bale, Phil Neville is the world’s best right-back – which Tony Thompson tells us is a paradox, although I know for a fact that that’s another word for aspirin).

Part of Maicon’s awesome reputation was built, I reckon, on his name. He sounds like he’s the sort of prosthetically-enhanced galactic toe-rag that might be about to take the Starship Enterprise apart. And yet Bale treated him like he was a tiny wafty little bug that needed to be dismissed – Micron, possibly.

If I was Alan Hansen, I’d be doing some of his pretend perfect prose now. Bale has got Pace, Power, Penetration, Purpose... ermm... pizzazz, piccalilli, pyjamas, etc, etc.

But pace he does have, by God.

As Tony Cascarino put it in his tremendous* analysis in The Times: ‘He’s quicker over 40 yards than he is over ten.’ Well that blew my fucking mind. Say Gareth can run ten yards in say 1.5 seconds... according to big Tony he can run forty yards in less than that. It’s possible that if Bale runs far enough he could actually get back to where he started before he set off.

But yes, he’s fast. I keep wondering how fast he could be if he really pinned his ears back. Literally pinned them back. Cos them lugs have got to be causing more wind resistance than them parachutes that shot out of the back of the Space Shuttle.

Of course part of the lad’s charm is that he’s no oil painting – well unless it’s an oil painting that might have been done by Dian Fossey. They say humans share 98% of the same DNA as chimpanzees and when I look at young GB I think ‘Really? That little?’ Mind he’s also got six GCSEs, bless him from A to C grade. (Although I reckon one of Ms. Fossey’s gorilla companions could muster an E these days, couldn’t they?)

Best of all we’re told he’s very down-to-earth. And not like Wayne and Coleen are down-to-earth cos they used an NHS hozzy. (In the light of recent events I reckon Wazza might’ve done that just cos he’s tight. Do we really need millionaires blocking beds in our overstretched public health system?)

'And honest to God, Coleen, I'll lift up da Joools Rimmittt Trophy like dis and den dey'll ALL love us again, just like you do.'

But young Gareth was offered a week off by Redknapp and he went home to be with Mam And Dad. Ahhh. And his mates. Yay for Baley. His mam says ‘”When he comes home, he is treated like a normal boy... Whatever we are having for dinner, he has for dinner.”’

Well that’s big of him. To be honest Mrs B I didn’t reckon he’d be spitting out his plonk and raging ‘Call this fuckin’ wine, Ma? Thank Christ I bought me own Chateau Neuf de Pape you fuckin’ philistines.’

But he’s a good lad Gareth and a very talented one n all. Not that Spurs owed everything to him. It was a fantastic night for the WHL faithful. And, given the way Harry has them approach the game, a success I thoroughly approve of. Inter were way off the pace. And there’s not a team who’ll enjoy meeting them in the latter stages if as seems likely, they qualify.

Meanwhile Man City went down to the team from Poland’s fifth largest city. Mancini’s right hacked off with these reports of bust-ups and divisions within the camp. I know, Roberto. That chat between Vincent Kompany and the Madebayor, that was just the sort of playful banter that proves how well-bonded the team is.

You can point at it all you like Adey, son, we still don't believe you

And Yaya Toure (not his real name, he just knows a lot of Sloanes) and James Milner are on great personal terms (over £200m grand a week in Toure’s case).

The thing is you just want it to be true. Cos when there’s so many of ‘em waist-deep in wonga you almost will them to cling on to each other and pull themselves under. At the very least there seems to be a hell of a lot of rutting stags butting antlers at Eastlands at the mo and whether the tough but doe-eyed Mancini can sort them all out is anyone’s guess.

And any road, Chelsea will win the coveted double this year. Chumps League and Premier League. At a dawdle.

*Sarcasm alert