No Ball Games

Greetings from smogland. How good it is to be out of the bracing ozone-rich toff-tastic Dorset coast and back inhaling the proper man's air of Teesside. Still it weren't too bad camping n that: the rustle of the sleeping bag, the Heinz tomato soup, the glorious hot/cold/hot/cold of the shower.

Of course there are comforts that can't be replaced. I embraced Match of the Day 2 like a long-lost brother last night. That does mean trying to get your arms around Colin Murray, who is starting to resemble an over-enthusiastic blinking Ulster mole.

Getting ex-managers to pull pieces of paper out of brown envelopes? I mean you'd want George Graham on there wouldn't you? Nationwide everyone sings the Match of the Day theme? This isn't a Radio 1 bloody roadshow, this is a footy programme! I'm almost missing the straight-fringed potato-faced Baggie. Almost.


Of course Capello has named a new England squad. No place for Lennon or Huddlestone, but serial wastes of space SWP are there. Presumably so the other 21 players can have their confidence boosted. 'Sure I'm not playing well but at least I'm not that shit.' We'll see.

As a Boro fan, I'm just relieved that none of the players in the England squad is Scottish.

It takes a lot for a footy weekend to be overshadowed by any other sport in this country, so cue the Pakistan cricket team to get their sport back on to the front pages.

Frankly I'm pleased. This year's visit had been all a little tame. Not one seam picked, not one player stroppily despatched back home, not one utter refusal to carry on playing. And a lot of batting that would look pretty rum if it were in French cricket.

But wait! Here comes the News of the World to the rescue. Yes those dastardly dusky types have been at it again, bowling no balls to order. The evidence looks pretty damning and unless Perry Mason can be hired by the PCB then a lot of shit's about to hit a darned big fan.

Of course 'no balls' is a pretty good description of the PCB. Rameez Raja was on the radio describing earlier controversies where reputations of Pakistani legends were saved by a hurried covering up of the facts. It appears to happen so frequently that the PCB have single-handedly kept the trade in Persian carpets and brooms in business.

So is this a particularly Pakistani phenomenon? Ermm... no. The saintly Christian Hansie Cronje was elbow deep in manure. Warney's placed a bet or two on occasion. I seem to remember that tophole Cambridge chap Michael Atherton rubbing dirt on to a cricket ball.

But there is a suspicion in this country that a touring Pakistan team will be up to no good at some point. When Waqar and Wasim were skittling out England teams in the early 90s it was clear that the subcontinental devils were applying some strange blend of spices to the cricket ball.

Of course when we learnt to do it in 2005 it became officially known as reverse swing.

Whether Asif and Aamer - both of them, sadly, utterly brilliant with the ball in hand - will get the proper censure from the PCB is unsure. What is certain is when gambling businesses are allowing bets on the most inconsequential bits of a cricket match then sport has truly lost its way.

Spot betting is ridiculous. It's all right if you're betting your mate on raindrops going down a pane of glass or snails crossing a paving stone. But TV misses nothing these days and soon you'll be putting your five pounds/rupees/ringgits on the next fielder to break wind. (Not KP who looks like he couldn't give a fart.)

There appear to be many fixers hard at work behind the scenes of international cricket and temptations for a cricketer to earn a quick five-figure sum for, I dunno, bowling it second slip once in a while must be enormous. (You wouldn't offer money to Stephen Harmison to do this, mind - chances are he knock out middle.)

If they did cheat, it's not like Aamer or Asif manifestly altered the result of the match at Lord's, and if they trousered a wad of cash in the process then I find it, well, understandable. Although if you are going to overstep the crease than try not to do it by the length of the average swimming pool.

It doesn't make it right though. Aggers and co have been using words like 'tragedy' and 'disaster' to describe the situation. Well it's not is it? They're not floating about on a muddy torrent on a couple of roof-tiles with a babe-in-arms and a cholera epidemic round the corner.

What is tragic is that these two young lads MAY have been caught with their hands in the till at exactly the moment when thousands of their countrymen could do with a quick cash injection to save their bloody lives.

'OK America, which one them is Barack Obama?'

They tell me cricket is a religion in Pakistan. (I wish someone would tell the Taleban that.) If it is, then there's a lot of mighty edifices crumbling to the ground. The Pakistan Cricket Board simply have to ban these two lads, talented though they are, for life, and not have the shilly-shallying they've gone through with tizzy-fit masters like Shoaib and Yousuf.

If these were English lads, and let's not kid ourselves that our players aren't easily nobblable too, you'd expect nothing less.

Arteta for Art's Sake

My Boro pals and me are taking rusty nails and shards of glass to the enxt home game. Not to pelt the team with. We’re going to stick them into our palms Harry Palmer style so that we don’t nod off.

'You're only supposed to bore the bloody draws off'

The main question in the boozer after was nowt to with Boro, mind: ‘If you were the England manager would you select Spaniard Mikel Arteta?’

It’s complicated of course. If you were that person you’d be an Italian. You’d also be very content to select the Canadian Owen Hargreaves were he not spending more time on a couch than the average Mid-West American family.

Furthermore, as we’re told repeatedly, England already possess some World Class midfielders whose place of birth is not an issue – although if that isn’t a loose use of World Class then I’m a Sydney Drag Queen (NB I’m not). I mean Spain have got loads of world-class midfielders or we wouldn’t be talking about Arteta cos he would’ve got in their team by now.

I like Arteta. He’s - ooh what’s that thing we’ve been lacking – creative. But the point is can we trust someone with a funny accent to play with his heart and soul? To wear the Three Lions with pride? To dig in when our backs are against the wall? Ermm, not necessarily. But given that we can’t trust any other hobbling halfwit who went to South Africa either I suggest being born and raised here doesn’t much matter any more.

To me, it’s one of them things they call a no-brainer – I hate that expression. Borrowed from the Yanks I bet. Actually while we’re on the subject here are some more stupid phrases that media twats roll out – actually ‘rolling out’! There’s one! I’m doing it meself!

Add to that ‘going forward’ which means nowt less than ‘in the near future’. Presumably when these spokesturdsmen talk about what happened yesterday they say ‘Going backward’. I heard some council exec calling the preparation for a Christmas cold spell being a ‘winterisation’ progamme.

It’s all corporate speak isn’t it? These wanker-bankers haven’t just nicked all our money they’ve flooded common or garden English with a load of babbling, meaningless shite!

Where was I? Ah, si. Senor Arteta.

'Hof course Hi 'em Hinglish! Mekka me captain and I sleepa with your wife!'

Look, pick him. If his national form bears no resemblance to his club form then we’ll know he’s truly English and we can embrace and/or jeer the poor bastard till he retires from the international game at 30 cos he hasn’t got the cojones to carry on. Then Capello can recall Beckham from his bath chair/UN ambassador role and all will be almost all right with the world.

It’s been a weekend of storms in teacups. ’Arry has had to defend the signing of William Gallas, which some WHL regulars have suggested is about as appropriate as making Sir Alex Ferguson Chairman of the BBC.

I mean I’m all for a bit of needle between teams but surely Gallas can play for who the hell he likes and frankly good luck to whoever takes him on. As it is his Redknapp knows the territory of treachery well – I understand that in the bibles in churches across the South Coast of England Jesus Christ is betrayed by an ugly ginger bloke with a twitch and a bit of a marf on him.

The wisdom of the move is not financial – he’s come in on a free – or indeed morally questionable. It’s simply that Gallas has moments of nut-jobbery that, even in a world where a sane French footballer is scarcer than a faithful English one, to take him on at all would seem well bloody risky.

Wenger once berated him for a having a ciggie on his way home from a club but I’d like to leave that one to one side. Yes he was club captain but for Christ’s sake smokers need role models too!

Perhaps of more concern is that admission that if Chelsea didn’t release him he’d score own goals. And he’s a decent finisher is Gallas. If, say, Emile Heskey made the same pledge right now Villa fans could laugh it off with a ‘No chance’.
There was also William’s wobbly moment at Birmingham a while back in the aftermath of Eduardo’s leg-shattering when he sat in a strop on the pitch, displaying all the leadership skills of Violet Elizabeth Bott.

But if he can put the adolescent tizzies behind him and put out them fags then I reckon Redknapp’s got a flaming bargain particularly in the light of the fact most Spurs centre-backs seemed to have a loyalty card a the local Casualty department.

If Capello is watching out for bright new English talent then there’s a glimmer of hope in Andy Carroll. Six foot three, skin and bone, bad hair... he’s in danger of becoming the new Mark Hateley. I reckon he’s better than that, mind.

Apart from Hansen inexplicably slagging off Theo Walcott after twatting Blackpool on MOTD (he scored a hat-trick, you miserable git! What next? ‘That Joe Hart – calls himself a keeper but look at his goalscoring record at club level – terrible!’) the Geordies 6-0 duffing up of Villa was the most incredible game of the weekend.

Joey Barton’s ‘tache has gone, celebrated inevitably with a gesture that the dumb numpty made look a bit Nazi. Of course he could have gone the whole hog and put a swastika on his arm but you don’t get away with that sort of thing unless your surname’s Windsor.

And grin of the week was Fergie being left fuming after United’s tame draw at Fulham. Sad to see he still wasn’t up for talking to the BBC about it. We get Mike Phelan instead who had a charisma bypass operation at the age of 17. Sigh.

Still even Phelan surpassed the entertainment on offer at the Riverside last weekend. Seriously I’ve had more fun scraping old bits of food out of our dishwasher. But that’s the thing with Strachan. He’ll admit it. And somehow you can’t help liking him.

Bit-eh, grit-eh, and just not pret-eh!

It’s over. £150million quid later – approximately £2m a day – Manchester City, unleashed on the market like a bunch of greedy no-marks on Supermarket Sweep, have returned with their trolleys full and a bewildered look on their faces.

All it needs now is Dale Winton to loom all Blackpool-shirt-faced over the spendthrifts and say ‘Well done, sweethearts but it looks to me like you’ve got an awful lot of the same thing.’

I mean I’m sure Blackburn fans are dreaming of summat similar at Ewood Park, although Allardyce put on his usual Bulldog Licking Piss Off A Nettle face when he suggested that coming to Blackburn was a bit less of a draw than, well, anywhere really.


Why wouldn't people want to join me?

Chins up Sam! Juninho came to Middlesbrough – twice!

And of course you’ll be able to waft rolls of wonga under their noses and nowt peaks a professional footballer’s interest more than that (except the waft of mascara-lacquered eyelashes across a Mediterranean bar in August).

Manchester City’s elite squad – cash-hungry ragbag to us plain speakers – have been doing their best to spout the party line. They’re here to get Chumps League footy... erm, next year... ahem , maybe. In Yaya Toure’s case (and he must be the Sloaney brother in the Toure household ) he’s already won 200k a week and d’you know I’m not sure a trophy can top that. Hasn’t he won the Champs League anyway? Ya-Yawn Toure more like.

Milner arrives with the wrong-headed assumption that he’ll be wide right most of the time given that Citeh already have central midfield more clogged than a docker’s arteries. Barry, de Jong, Yaya, Vieira, and Michael Johnson (English, home-grown, doesn’t really count) are all jostling for a bit of space and Mancini reckons on Milner being in there too.

If he is moved to the flanks he’ll have to compete with the likes of Shaun Wright-Phillips, Adam Johnson and new boy David Silva. At least Weiss is popping up in Glasgow for a bit so he can spend the year putting things on a plate for James Beattie – who’s never made a habit of finishing an easy meal. In fact if you want a benchmark for the quality of Scottish club football look no further than Rangers signing of a great 32-year-old lunk with the first touch of a concrete block whose biggest impact in football has been on the side of William Gallas’s head.

In the meantime, players that have served Citeh well are scowling along touchlines in a state of apoplexy. It’s unclear as to what Given and Bellamy have done to deserve being ignored – although if Craig opened his gob, then it’s understandable.
There are other players who are starting to look like last week’s under-5’s Chrissie presents. Wayne Bridge can get back to his pre-summer sulk-fest as the one-footed wally will be on his way elsewhere. (Blackburn? I expect Sam’ll be checking how far he can hoof it as we speak).

Lescott may start tonight in that vibrant outpost of FC Timisoara but he has Zabaleta and Kolarov ahead of him now. Still, City’s bench-warmers can always enjoy the cultural bounty that Timisoara offers: choose from Timişoara Orthodox Cathedral or St. George's Cathedral (presumably the unorthodox one).


Robinho and Jo are still around like a special offer at a beauty salon – 2 free Brazilians, lady? - and the Ecuadorian Caicedo is around too. I wonder if he knows how or why.

And here’s the thing. Any club with unlimited funds is bound to get a little carried away but Citeh’s problem seems to be that they’re getting the players first and assembling a team second. A touch of the Capellos maybe.

Of course, Ferguson can’t resist one of his lateral digs - ‘kamikaze spending’ he called it.

Well, no, Fergie. Kamikaze spending would be forking out money you don’t really have cos the people owning your club are using it to offset the huge debts they have elsewhere and if they forked off tomorrow you’d be selling the Big Issue and looking nervously at the team-sheet for Wythenshawe Wanderers.

I mean I expect you to get a little cranky, my human Stop Light, but it’s not like this Fand-Abu-Dhabi fund is going to run out soon.

The side Mancini put out at White Hart Lane on Saturday was an odd one with Tevez playing the lone striker role and inevitably scuttling back into the midfield three to find out what had happened to the ball for the first half-hour. Answer: Spurs had it.

Mancini betrayed a negative mindset last year and with Rafa out of the frame he is free and clear to claim the mantle of Most Miserable Deployer of Incredibly Expensive Footballers in the Premier League. Three holding midfielders tonight n all! Who have these Romanians got in the middle of the park? Platini, Zidane and Mara-bloody-dona?

I mean the least you could try to be was a bit enter-bloody-taining for 150 million quid plus last year’s convoy of cash. When you think how hilariously playful Sparky’s Citeh were before the chairman sent out the managerial seagulls to crap on him. And now this outfit.

'If only the team had been duller...'

It’s early days for the Italian and it would take a right pillock not to put at least one good side together from the equipment he has available, but no, I will not be wishing the moneybags well and neither should the Citeh fans expect it.

Most of us cling on the misguided belief that money isn’t everything – if it is, we’ve got too much nothing – and a well average Citeh season would happily underline this.