by Garry Cook
Not much to say about the Ryder Cup. The pictures of Darren Clarke said it all, really.
Like last time, the European team demolished the Americans in a way that they should never be able to. The Yanks are better, stronger and win more trophies. But when it comes to team play they've fallen well short over the past few years.
At the K Club in Ireland the Yanks never got going. Scot Colin Montgomerie further enhanced his image as a phenomenal Ryder Cupper who can do it for the team on the big occasion but can't quite do it for himself (the exact opposite to Tiger Woods).
There is a danger now that the Yanks, having lost the Ryder Cup three times in a row, will lose interest in the competition and give up on it completely. Their interest seemed to be waning a few years back, although Tom Lehman's team did put a bit more effort into preparations this time.
But in the end the Yanks abroad were about as organised as the US army in Baghdad. They came, they saw, they floundered. Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iraq, the K Club. This lot don't travel well.
It was 'well done' with a few 'to be sures' all round to the Europeans from the seniors like Clarke and Monty to Swedish rookies Robert Karlsson and Henrik Stenson, the latter sinking the putt which won the tournament.
But special mention needs to be made of European captain Ian Woosnam', who sounds less and less Welsh every time he speaks.
While I appreciate his leadership and organisational skills, I can't see how the £10,000 he spent on players' clothing can be justified when the squad are forced to line up in hideous pink jackets with white round-neck t-shirts to receive the trophy.
While Sky proudly broadcast the win live, it was left to everyone's favourite old granny Beeb to shrink the day into a Sunday evening delights package, all the action and aftermath into one bitesized condensed lump.
Golf doesn't work too well in a highlights package - as David Howell taking three shots in succession proved.
But the Beeb stepped into its own class when victory was secured. Its determination to bring everyone to tears by asking Clarke questions about his recent bereavement, or asking everyone else questions about Clarke's recent bereavement was ruthless.
And it worked a treat. Hazel Irving got to Clarke first and she asked all the obvious questions. Minutes later Gary Lineker stepped in. He asked all Hazel's obvious questions, too.
The rest of the players got the same treatment. Everyone was choking up. I was just about managing to keep a lid on myself when the floodgates opened. The sight of twelve pink jackets tipped me over. I was a mess.
As they say in Ireland, they were a fecking disgrace.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
What a drama with BBC Panorama. Sam Allardyce and football bungs.
I want to make things crystal clear before we again. The following article in relation to the BBC's Panorama documentary on bungs in football contains circumstantial evidence. They are allegations only and no person, football agent, manager or otherwise, has been found guilty of any illegal activities.
You should not necessarily believe anything I say here.
That said, there is not a single person involved in football, from chairmen down to the fans, who does not believe bungs - illegal payments to agents and managers - are a major part of the game.
I feel that has excused me enough from sanction. If I am a liar, prove it. Show me the evidence. If half the managers in the Premiership can stick together in silence over allegations of bung taking then why can't I, as someone who wants to discuss the issue openly, be equally obtuse.
Their motto has always been: Say sod all.
Their silence is damning. They carry on raking in the money and devouring the fringe benefits while ignoring rumour and supposition because they are making too much dosh out of it.
Basically a bung goes like this. A player moves from one club to another. An agent is paid £150,000 by the buying club for his good work - and £50,000 of that goes back to the buying club's manager. A kind of thank-you for buying my player.
I have no doubt that there are far more complicated ways of players, agents, managers and chairman receiving far greater sums of money.
Who am I to say that past and present managers like Sam Allardyce, Harry Redknapp, Graeme Souness, Peter Reid, John Gregory and David O'Leary have taken bungs at some time? I am no one to say it, so I won't.
But it makes me sick when managers who are suspected of underhand behaviour fail to come forward with an offer to help rid the game of its shady dealings. If you're not part of the solution, you are part of the problem.
For example, imagine you’re an experienced Premiership manager who has been one step ahead of bung allegations for years - let's call you Barry Headclap. Something fishy went on a few months ago when you met a couple of agents. Now you've heard that the BBC has got something on you. You're under a bit of pressure.
You decide the best thing to do is deny any wrongdoing until the show comes out. You don't think the revelations will be all that bad, but you're not sure. When the BBC air their documentary one of your mates has got it in the neck more than you.
You got off lightly - the evidence isn't hard enough. You come out and say, 'I'm not guilty' and carry on as normal (except you’ll be a bit more weary in future of reporters wearing cameras).
The problem is that Barry, now believing he is in the clear, at no point will feel the need to come out and say, 'I want to work with the FA and the police to rid the game of its shady dealings'.
There's no chance our Barry will say at all. All he thinks is: You've got nothing on me, up yours.
That is not how it should be. But these managers will never hold their hands up because they know if they don't, they will get away with it.
George Graham, the ex-Arsenal boss, was the only manager to lose his job over bung allegations - and that was only because he admitted taking £400,000 from an agent. The rest learned their lesson from that one.
Even Bolton boss Allardyce, who was essentially crucified by his own son in the Panorama documentary, will have to be dragged out of his job rather than willingly walk the plank.
And that brings us to the FA. In many respects, the documentary has put all the pressure on to English football's governing body.
It is now up to the FA to take the BBC's evidence, examine it and (possibly) charge someone. And they will hate that. The FA have failed in the past to weed out the dirty side of the game.
In the past they had a dedicated 'bung-busting' man, FA compliance officer Graham Bean, who uncovered absolutely nothing. Before his post was discontinued he was deafened by a wall of silence wherever he turned.
Now they have the BBC's evidence, the FA have been handed their best opportunity of making something stick. But even that might not be enough to prosecute managers or agents. And if they don't now, they never will.
Even before the BBC show had aired, all those caught up in the show had issued statements.
Proving that these guys have no sense or remorse they shamelessly contradicted what they said on camera.
Craig Allardyce denied any wrongdoing.
Agent Peter Harrison denied he was corrupt.
Agent Teni Yerima claimed he made it all up.
Ex-Portsmouth coach Kevin Bond said he did not want to take a bung.
Agent Charles Collymore also claimed he made up what he said on camera.
Made it up? Is this guy for real?
It's quite pathetic. Along with Allardyce and Redknapp, this lot will now wait and see if they are charged with anything. They will fret and stew a bit, but they none really believe they will be punished.
Yes, British law states you are innocent until proven guilty, but stubborn non-co-operation in dealing with a serious issue is hardly the behaviour of a saint.
It was midway through the 2006/06 season when Luton manager Mike Newell first spoke in public about being offered a bung and complained about the way agents work. It was a brave move. It was also incredibly honest and I admire him for that. Ex-QPR boss Ian Holloway was the one manager to publicly back him up.
But I find it equally unadmirable that the rest of his fellow football managers united in silence, effectively leaving him out in the cold. To me, that says almost every manager in the game is partial to a little sweetener.
Until they all start being pro-active - and that includes players agents chairman, chief executives, coaches and scouts - the finger of suspicion will always be flicking around.
And with so much money being bandied around, this lot are unlikely to come clean.
Come on then, the FA - it's over to you.
You should not necessarily believe anything I say here.
That said, there is not a single person involved in football, from chairmen down to the fans, who does not believe bungs - illegal payments to agents and managers - are a major part of the game.
I feel that has excused me enough from sanction. If I am a liar, prove it. Show me the evidence. If half the managers in the Premiership can stick together in silence over allegations of bung taking then why can't I, as someone who wants to discuss the issue openly, be equally obtuse.
Their motto has always been: Say sod all.
Their silence is damning. They carry on raking in the money and devouring the fringe benefits while ignoring rumour and supposition because they are making too much dosh out of it.
Basically a bung goes like this. A player moves from one club to another. An agent is paid £150,000 by the buying club for his good work - and £50,000 of that goes back to the buying club's manager. A kind of thank-you for buying my player.
I have no doubt that there are far more complicated ways of players, agents, managers and chairman receiving far greater sums of money.
Who am I to say that past and present managers like Sam Allardyce, Harry Redknapp, Graeme Souness, Peter Reid, John Gregory and David O'Leary have taken bungs at some time? I am no one to say it, so I won't.
But it makes me sick when managers who are suspected of underhand behaviour fail to come forward with an offer to help rid the game of its shady dealings. If you're not part of the solution, you are part of the problem.
For example, imagine you’re an experienced Premiership manager who has been one step ahead of bung allegations for years - let's call you Barry Headclap. Something fishy went on a few months ago when you met a couple of agents. Now you've heard that the BBC has got something on you. You're under a bit of pressure.
You decide the best thing to do is deny any wrongdoing until the show comes out. You don't think the revelations will be all that bad, but you're not sure. When the BBC air their documentary one of your mates has got it in the neck more than you.
You got off lightly - the evidence isn't hard enough. You come out and say, 'I'm not guilty' and carry on as normal (except you’ll be a bit more weary in future of reporters wearing cameras).
The problem is that Barry, now believing he is in the clear, at no point will feel the need to come out and say, 'I want to work with the FA and the police to rid the game of its shady dealings'.
There's no chance our Barry will say at all. All he thinks is: You've got nothing on me, up yours.
That is not how it should be. But these managers will never hold their hands up because they know if they don't, they will get away with it.
George Graham, the ex-Arsenal boss, was the only manager to lose his job over bung allegations - and that was only because he admitted taking £400,000 from an agent. The rest learned their lesson from that one.
Even Bolton boss Allardyce, who was essentially crucified by his own son in the Panorama documentary, will have to be dragged out of his job rather than willingly walk the plank.
And that brings us to the FA. In many respects, the documentary has put all the pressure on to English football's governing body.
It is now up to the FA to take the BBC's evidence, examine it and (possibly) charge someone. And they will hate that. The FA have failed in the past to weed out the dirty side of the game.
In the past they had a dedicated 'bung-busting' man, FA compliance officer Graham Bean, who uncovered absolutely nothing. Before his post was discontinued he was deafened by a wall of silence wherever he turned.
Now they have the BBC's evidence, the FA have been handed their best opportunity of making something stick. But even that might not be enough to prosecute managers or agents. And if they don't now, they never will.
Even before the BBC show had aired, all those caught up in the show had issued statements.
Proving that these guys have no sense or remorse they shamelessly contradicted what they said on camera.
Craig Allardyce denied any wrongdoing.
Agent Peter Harrison denied he was corrupt.
Agent Teni Yerima claimed he made it all up.
Ex-Portsmouth coach Kevin Bond said he did not want to take a bung.
Agent Charles Collymore also claimed he made up what he said on camera.
Made it up? Is this guy for real?
It's quite pathetic. Along with Allardyce and Redknapp, this lot will now wait and see if they are charged with anything. They will fret and stew a bit, but they none really believe they will be punished.
Yes, British law states you are innocent until proven guilty, but stubborn non-co-operation in dealing with a serious issue is hardly the behaviour of a saint.
It was midway through the 2006/06 season when Luton manager Mike Newell first spoke in public about being offered a bung and complained about the way agents work. It was a brave move. It was also incredibly honest and I admire him for that. Ex-QPR boss Ian Holloway was the one manager to publicly back him up.
But I find it equally unadmirable that the rest of his fellow football managers united in silence, effectively leaving him out in the cold. To me, that says almost every manager in the game is partial to a little sweetener.
Until they all start being pro-active - and that includes players agents chairman, chief executives, coaches and scouts - the finger of suspicion will always be flicking around.
And with so much money being bandied around, this lot are unlikely to come clean.
Come on then, the FA - it's over to you.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Roy Keane watches Penguins. He's a wildlife lover.
by Garry Cook
It's not often a story in the paper brings me to tears, but this one did. Nearly.
Sunderland manager Roy Keane, the snarling, vindictive, uncompromising, win-at-all costs former Manchester United midfielder, has vowed to be kinder to others after watching a movie on... wait for it... you won't believe this... here it comes... the mating rituals of p-p-p-p-penguins.
While sitting alone in a Glasgow cinema watching The March of the Penguins, Keane reflected on his life and career - how he come to England from Ireland as an 18-year-old and how hard he had been on his team-mates down the years.
And Keane, who had just joined Celtic while his family stayed in Manchester when he came over all funny at the cinema, began to weep uncontrollably when he realised his attitude towards his ex-United colleagues was unjust.*
Just give me a moment to wipe my eyes and compose myself.
Keane said: "It made me think about when I first came to England, the 18-year-old who went to the pictures in the afternoon.
"Here I was 16 years on, back at the pictures. My life had come full circle. It was a lonely life and I wish I had been a wee bit easier on some of the foreign stars at United."
Apart from that fact that Keane had an 18-year career which largely consisted of him segregating himself from his team-mates, at Nottingham Forest, United and particularly with the Republic of Ireland, does this not sound a bit soft?
I'm all for Keane being a bit more talkative as Sunderland manager, his new chatty persona is far more appealing than the death stare and occasional explosive rant at his team-mates which had previously been the norm.
But isn't he exploding his greatest asset - the fear which he breathes into others - with his confessionals?
Though no longer a player, Keane still needs his aura of nastiness to frighten both his own team and the opposition.
But by admitting, say, that his furious persona was nothing more than an act will surely make opponents less weary of upsetting him of his team.
He was even a pundit on Sky Sports on Sunday for United's home defeat to Arsenal. It's good to talk and all that, but Keane is in danger of coming across all Michael Palin.
He says he is trying to curb his anger as a manager, and now this. Getting soppy, feeling remorse. Penguins. He'll be having Mick McCarthy round for a stopover next.
Come on Keane quit the lovey-dovey bollocks. Bawl into Neil Collins, give Jon Stead the hairdryer treatment. Tell Tommy Miller to fri**ing get his foot in.
Either that or keep your gob shut. Mean and moody, that's how we like it. How about this - imagine the entire Sunderland squad are FAI officials and they've just organised an away trip to Brighton via boat.
Get in there and start kicking off. Be the bastard we know you are. Call Niall Quinn a muppet again. Put Bobby Saxton on a diet. Anything. Just no more penguins.
* Roy Keane did not actually admit to crying while watching The March of the Penguins.
It's not often a story in the paper brings me to tears, but this one did. Nearly.
Sunderland manager Roy Keane, the snarling, vindictive, uncompromising, win-at-all costs former Manchester United midfielder, has vowed to be kinder to others after watching a movie on... wait for it... you won't believe this... here it comes... the mating rituals of p-p-p-p-penguins.
While sitting alone in a Glasgow cinema watching The March of the Penguins, Keane reflected on his life and career - how he come to England from Ireland as an 18-year-old and how hard he had been on his team-mates down the years.
And Keane, who had just joined Celtic while his family stayed in Manchester when he came over all funny at the cinema, began to weep uncontrollably when he realised his attitude towards his ex-United colleagues was unjust.*
Just give me a moment to wipe my eyes and compose myself.
Keane said: "It made me think about when I first came to England, the 18-year-old who went to the pictures in the afternoon.
"Here I was 16 years on, back at the pictures. My life had come full circle. It was a lonely life and I wish I had been a wee bit easier on some of the foreign stars at United."
Apart from that fact that Keane had an 18-year career which largely consisted of him segregating himself from his team-mates, at Nottingham Forest, United and particularly with the Republic of Ireland, does this not sound a bit soft?
I'm all for Keane being a bit more talkative as Sunderland manager, his new chatty persona is far more appealing than the death stare and occasional explosive rant at his team-mates which had previously been the norm.
But isn't he exploding his greatest asset - the fear which he breathes into others - with his confessionals?
Though no longer a player, Keane still needs his aura of nastiness to frighten both his own team and the opposition.
But by admitting, say, that his furious persona was nothing more than an act will surely make opponents less weary of upsetting him of his team.
He was even a pundit on Sky Sports on Sunday for United's home defeat to Arsenal. It's good to talk and all that, but Keane is in danger of coming across all Michael Palin.
He says he is trying to curb his anger as a manager, and now this. Getting soppy, feeling remorse. Penguins. He'll be having Mick McCarthy round for a stopover next.
Come on Keane quit the lovey-dovey bollocks. Bawl into Neil Collins, give Jon Stead the hairdryer treatment. Tell Tommy Miller to fri**ing get his foot in.
Either that or keep your gob shut. Mean and moody, that's how we like it. How about this - imagine the entire Sunderland squad are FAI officials and they've just organised an away trip to Brighton via boat.
Get in there and start kicking off. Be the bastard we know you are. Call Niall Quinn a muppet again. Put Bobby Saxton on a diet. Anything. Just no more penguins.
* Roy Keane did not actually admit to crying while watching The March of the Penguins.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Glenn Roeder, riding a wave of violence. Hammered by West Ham.
by Garry Cook
You're the boss, your club's 2-0 up away from home and the fans start singing your name. It's a bit embarrassing, but you wave to acknowledge their praise.
Nowt wrong with that. Er, except if you are a bunch of seething West Ham animals who take exception to the gesture of Newcastle boss Glenn Roeder. A dozen or so even tried to get onto the pitch to attack the bloke.
And let me just reiterate the point: Roeder was waving to his own fans. Nothing to do with these Hammers lot. Waving? It's not even an unusual gesture, most managers have done it.
So why on earth did these crazy East Enders go monster raving loony?
From what I can see, Roeder's only crime was to manage West Ham up until 2003, where he was sacked while recovering from a brain tumour. The bastard.
How dare he! Sick leave? For a brain tumour! People have no backbone these days.
Was I the only person thinking that Roeder would get a round of applause from the home fans on his first appearance at Upton Park since his sacking?
Roeder could have died and should have been out of the game for good. Instead, he rebuilds his life bounces back and eventually finds himself in charge of a bigger club than West Ham. Are these Hammers fans jealous or simply stupid?
Yes, West Ham were relegated under Roeder and perhaps he just wasn't very good as their manager. But can he be totally to blame? The Hammers weren't in the best of health when Harry Redknapp left them and couldn't really continue with his, ahem, transfer policy.
On the numerous occasions I've witnessed a manager wave at his own fans, it has almost always been out of embarrassment. They are singing his name, he knows the only way to get them to stop is to acknowledge them. A little acknowledgement, a quick wave. Fuss over.
I just cannot understand the West Ham fans in this instance. Give the bloke a break.
Roeder got a lot of stick from Hammers fans when he was the club's boss. But so did Alan Pardew for a couple years before the fans had to finally admit they were wrong and that their current boss is actually quite good. So why can't they do the same with Roeder?
The only thing more stupid than giving him stick for a friendly wave was his post-match apology where he practically begged forgiveness from his former club. No need, no need.
He should have questioned what all the fuss was about, called the baying mob stupid, labelled those who tried to attack him prats and forgot about it.
Next you know one of the dickheads will be filing a complaint to police. 'Yes, officer, he stuck his hand in the air and waved - and there were children in the ground!'
Dear, oh, dear. As if football has not got enough to worry about with cheats, corruption and bungs.
They say players live in a bubble, that they are treated with too much respect and allowed to get away with murder. But get away with murder, too. They can call a player any name under the sun without fear of retribution. A player answers back to his tormentor and he's banned, fined, on the six o'clock news, the subject of a police investigation and forced to apologise.
Football is a game, fans should not take some of these essentially off-the-ball incidents too seriously. Come on Hammers fans - lighten up.
You're the boss, your club's 2-0 up away from home and the fans start singing your name. It's a bit embarrassing, but you wave to acknowledge their praise.
Nowt wrong with that. Er, except if you are a bunch of seething West Ham animals who take exception to the gesture of Newcastle boss Glenn Roeder. A dozen or so even tried to get onto the pitch to attack the bloke.
And let me just reiterate the point: Roeder was waving to his own fans. Nothing to do with these Hammers lot. Waving? It's not even an unusual gesture, most managers have done it.
So why on earth did these crazy East Enders go monster raving loony?
From what I can see, Roeder's only crime was to manage West Ham up until 2003, where he was sacked while recovering from a brain tumour. The bastard.
How dare he! Sick leave? For a brain tumour! People have no backbone these days.
Was I the only person thinking that Roeder would get a round of applause from the home fans on his first appearance at Upton Park since his sacking?
Roeder could have died and should have been out of the game for good. Instead, he rebuilds his life bounces back and eventually finds himself in charge of a bigger club than West Ham. Are these Hammers fans jealous or simply stupid?
Yes, West Ham were relegated under Roeder and perhaps he just wasn't very good as their manager. But can he be totally to blame? The Hammers weren't in the best of health when Harry Redknapp left them and couldn't really continue with his, ahem, transfer policy.
On the numerous occasions I've witnessed a manager wave at his own fans, it has almost always been out of embarrassment. They are singing his name, he knows the only way to get them to stop is to acknowledge them. A little acknowledgement, a quick wave. Fuss over.
I just cannot understand the West Ham fans in this instance. Give the bloke a break.
Roeder got a lot of stick from Hammers fans when he was the club's boss. But so did Alan Pardew for a couple years before the fans had to finally admit they were wrong and that their current boss is actually quite good. So why can't they do the same with Roeder?
The only thing more stupid than giving him stick for a friendly wave was his post-match apology where he practically begged forgiveness from his former club. No need, no need.
He should have questioned what all the fuss was about, called the baying mob stupid, labelled those who tried to attack him prats and forgot about it.
Next you know one of the dickheads will be filing a complaint to police. 'Yes, officer, he stuck his hand in the air and waved - and there were children in the ground!'
Dear, oh, dear. As if football has not got enough to worry about with cheats, corruption and bungs.
They say players live in a bubble, that they are treated with too much respect and allowed to get away with murder. But get away with murder, too. They can call a player any name under the sun without fear of retribution. A player answers back to his tormentor and he's banned, fined, on the six o'clock news, the subject of a police investigation and forced to apologise.
Football is a game, fans should not take some of these essentially off-the-ball incidents too seriously. Come on Hammers fans - lighten up.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Tennis and television. A terrestrial problem.
by Garry Cook
Everyone knows that the British play tennis about as well as cats swim.
Our record in the sport is abysmal. We suffered decades of non-achievement in the sport before the Greg Rusedski and Tim Henman golden period of non-achievement came along.
Rusedski actually gave us hope that a Briton could get past the second round at Wimbledon despite the fact that he was entirely Canadian. And, would you believe it, after finally getting someone who could serve fast as f*** to change their passport, along came Tiger Tim – a true Brit who turned out even better than his pseudo countryman.
And now, after the deadly duo wracked up zero Grand Slams between them in a decade of successless success, we have great Scot Andy Murray, a teenager who has everything needed to win a Grand Slam except basic fitness.
Inspite of (or is it despite?) this trio tennis in Britain is still a major event, or at least Wimbledon in Britain is a major event. And here lies the problem with this often breathtaking sport.
Wimbledon apart, tennis as a mainstream entertainment does not exist in this country.
And this shouldn’t be so. Tennis has always had great sportsmen, mesmerising competitors. It is also the only sport in the world were the women’s game is as high profile as the men's. Clearly something is missing.
Agreed, when it comes to the All England Club the interest in the sport is huge. Helped by a mixture of the BBC’s quaint coverage, short skirts and the lush green grass and architecture of the venue itself, the sport captivates millions.
Tennis is able to push football off the tabloid back pages, and that does not happen very often. The sport is also able to hold your attention for hours on end. A mammoth five-set battle with nerve-wracking break-points and breathless returns of serves can be brilliantly excruciating. Then there’s the finesse and skill of the women. Not to mention John McEnroe’s sublime commentary.
But the sport suffers outside of Wimbledon because, quite frankly, no one here cares. We’ve all heard of Roger Federer and Maria Sharapova, but we have a peculiar situation here in Britain where Wimbledon fortnight comes around and we’ve never heard of half of the players in the top 10 because we’ve shown no interest in the sport for 12 months.
Newspaper coverage dips dramatically for the US, French and Australian Opens, never mind the numerous lesser events. TV coverage is non-existent terrestrially (that’s free to receive broadcasts for you Yank readers). I presume there is a similar lack of interest elsewhere for tournaments outside home borders.
There was increased coverage of the US Open recently (2006) because Murray was doing well, but still nothing to get over-excited about.
Compared to Formula 1, tennis is strictly low key. When F1 comes to Silverstone the interest is huge. But when F1 goes to Belgium, Turkey, China or Canada interest is still huge.
While both sports are entirely different, they are equally suited to TV coverage.
The thing is this: F1 is sold as a season-long World Championship battle. You sit down to watch one race, you sit down and watch them all.
But the mainstream tennis fan - and by that I mean the bloke who watches Wimbledon on the BBC and not the Hooray Henry who is a member of his local tennis club - discards the sport from his mind as soon as Sue Barker wanders on to the court to try and make the loser cry.
If tennis is to truly swell its fan base in this country it needs first to tie-up a TV deal with the BBC or ITV, even Channel 4, to show all four Grand Slams, plus a few more high-profile events.
And if that means creating a season-long world championship, then so be it. Yes, there is a Champions Race, but that is way behind the rankings and the Grand Slams in importance.
The sport needs maybe 12 major events (F1 has shown anything more than 16 becomes tedious), all of which contribute to a players’ championship. And the championship itself needs to be promoted on ‘normal’ television – even if the ATP and WTA are forced to turn down bigger offers from the satellite companies.
A hard-fought championship staged around the world would whip up interest, the media would be forced to increase their coverage and Sunday evening TV tennis could become a welcome addition to UK viewing habits.
Tennis is compelling sport, but it needs more than two weeks exposure a year.
Everyone knows that the British play tennis about as well as cats swim.
Our record in the sport is abysmal. We suffered decades of non-achievement in the sport before the Greg Rusedski and Tim Henman golden period of non-achievement came along.
Rusedski actually gave us hope that a Briton could get past the second round at Wimbledon despite the fact that he was entirely Canadian. And, would you believe it, after finally getting someone who could serve fast as f*** to change their passport, along came Tiger Tim – a true Brit who turned out even better than his pseudo countryman.
And now, after the deadly duo wracked up zero Grand Slams between them in a decade of successless success, we have great Scot Andy Murray, a teenager who has everything needed to win a Grand Slam except basic fitness.
Inspite of (or is it despite?) this trio tennis in Britain is still a major event, or at least Wimbledon in Britain is a major event. And here lies the problem with this often breathtaking sport.
Wimbledon apart, tennis as a mainstream entertainment does not exist in this country.
And this shouldn’t be so. Tennis has always had great sportsmen, mesmerising competitors. It is also the only sport in the world were the women’s game is as high profile as the men's. Clearly something is missing.
Agreed, when it comes to the All England Club the interest in the sport is huge. Helped by a mixture of the BBC’s quaint coverage, short skirts and the lush green grass and architecture of the venue itself, the sport captivates millions.
Tennis is able to push football off the tabloid back pages, and that does not happen very often. The sport is also able to hold your attention for hours on end. A mammoth five-set battle with nerve-wracking break-points and breathless returns of serves can be brilliantly excruciating. Then there’s the finesse and skill of the women. Not to mention John McEnroe’s sublime commentary.
But the sport suffers outside of Wimbledon because, quite frankly, no one here cares. We’ve all heard of Roger Federer and Maria Sharapova, but we have a peculiar situation here in Britain where Wimbledon fortnight comes around and we’ve never heard of half of the players in the top 10 because we’ve shown no interest in the sport for 12 months.
Newspaper coverage dips dramatically for the US, French and Australian Opens, never mind the numerous lesser events. TV coverage is non-existent terrestrially (that’s free to receive broadcasts for you Yank readers). I presume there is a similar lack of interest elsewhere for tournaments outside home borders.
There was increased coverage of the US Open recently (2006) because Murray was doing well, but still nothing to get over-excited about.
Compared to Formula 1, tennis is strictly low key. When F1 comes to Silverstone the interest is huge. But when F1 goes to Belgium, Turkey, China or Canada interest is still huge.
While both sports are entirely different, they are equally suited to TV coverage.
The thing is this: F1 is sold as a season-long World Championship battle. You sit down to watch one race, you sit down and watch them all.
But the mainstream tennis fan - and by that I mean the bloke who watches Wimbledon on the BBC and not the Hooray Henry who is a member of his local tennis club - discards the sport from his mind as soon as Sue Barker wanders on to the court to try and make the loser cry.
If tennis is to truly swell its fan base in this country it needs first to tie-up a TV deal with the BBC or ITV, even Channel 4, to show all four Grand Slams, plus a few more high-profile events.
And if that means creating a season-long world championship, then so be it. Yes, there is a Champions Race, but that is way behind the rankings and the Grand Slams in importance.
The sport needs maybe 12 major events (F1 has shown anything more than 16 becomes tedious), all of which contribute to a players’ championship. And the championship itself needs to be promoted on ‘normal’ television – even if the ATP and WTA are forced to turn down bigger offers from the satellite companies.
A hard-fought championship staged around the world would whip up interest, the media would be forced to increase their coverage and Sunday evening TV tennis could become a welcome addition to UK viewing habits.
Tennis is compelling sport, but it needs more than two weeks exposure a year.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Michael Schumacher. Michael Schu are a cheat.
by Garry Cook
And so it came to pass that, with just three races to go, the greatest driver of them all announced that he would be bringing the curtain down on his illustrious career at the end of the season. God bless the genius that is Michael Schumacher.
Or, to put it another way, the cheating German swine has quit.
At, 37, and with a record-breaking seven world titles to his name, Ferrari driver Schuey has decided it's time to take his foot off the gas. Take pole position on the sofa. Pull into the slow lane. Cruise into the sunset.
Having racked up 90 victories, 68 pole positions, 75 fastest laps, plus a record-busting 13 wins in a season (2004) and 148 points in a season (also 2004) , he will be able to lie back in retirement with satisfaction.
And having cut Fernando Alonso's title lead to just two pints, an eighth title is looking very possible.
But the hero of the tifosi will leave behind a legacy that is far from pure genius. In fact, as Marc Almond once almost said, Schumacher's reign has been dogged by tainted love.
In 1994, then with Benetton, Schumacher grabbed his first world title in sickening circumstances.
In the final race in Australia, the German was about to lose the title to Brit Damon Hill after his Benetton suffered a terminal fault.
As Hill passed, Schuey swung his Benetton deliberartely into Hill's Williams - taking both cars out of the race and clinching the title. Disgusting.
At the Spanish Grand Prix in Jerez in 1997, Schuey pulled off a similar manoeuvre as Jaques Villeneuve slipped past on the way to the title. All of a sudden BANG. Ferrari hits Williams. But this time Villeneuve's Williams escaped unscathed. Schuey finished second in the drivers' title before being stripped of his runners' up spot.
Both occasions highlight the desperate measures the German will go to in order to win.
What was the difference between 1994 and 1997? The FIA took action when Shcuey finished second in 1997 but did not dare strip him of his title three years earlier. Total cop-out.
Strip the sports biggest star of his first world title? No chance. But he cheated! Sorry, no. I mean, really cheated! No can do. Schumacher quite unliterally got way with murder.
Such dangerous and desperate driving should have been stamped out quickly and harshly. But, as happened on numerous occasions in Schumacher's career, he got off lightly.
While with Benetton he was banned after his team were found guilty of tampering with their fuel hose, taking out a safety valve so they could get fuel into the engine quicker. This is the same team who nearly cremated Jos Verstappen earlier that season when their fuel hose, and then the Dutchman's car, caught fire.
Even this season (2006) Schumacher proved he had not matured from his cheating ways when he deliberately parked his car on a dangerous corner in Monaco to stop anyone else going faster than him in qualifying.
He was slated over night and, thankfully, was stripped of his pole by race stewards.
I remember when Schumacher made his debut for Jordan at the Belgium Grand Prix where he stunned the sport with a superb qualifying lap (seventh). His first race did not last longer than a lap but he had done enough to win a move to Benetton for the next race. He never looked back.
For the first half of his 16-year F1 career Schuey rarely made a driving error. Spins and slides creeped into his driving later on, but much of that came as he pushed an inferior car to victory. And even when he did spin, he would more often than not get away with it because of his lightning quick reactions.
Juan-Pablo Montoya was a far more exciting driver for me, but he slipped out of Formula 1 earlier this season with nothing to show for his efforts. Schuey was a winner.
Like the late, great Ayrton Senna, Schumacher controlled his teams at Benetton and Ferrari, insisting that all efforts to win were concentrated on him - at the expense of his team-mates.
In 1999, after breaking a leg and missing much of the season, Ferrari team-mate Eddie Irvine went into the final race with a chance of taking the title from Mika Hakkinen. If Schuamcher won the race, the title was Irvine's. But there was no way Schuey was going to let another driver bring Ferrari a first championship since 1979. The German finished second to Hakkinen, Irvine third. Hakkinen took the title by two points. Funny that.
But Schuey did win the title himself in 2000. All the glory. You can't have some playboy Irishman strolling in taking the headlines.
David Coulthard called it right the weekend Schuey announced his retirement, highlighting the flashpoints and revealing what little respect some drivers have for the German.
Great driver, yes. Hideous role model? Without doubt.
You can't respect a man who cheats his way to victory. It's not the British way.
And so it came to pass that, with just three races to go, the greatest driver of them all announced that he would be bringing the curtain down on his illustrious career at the end of the season. God bless the genius that is Michael Schumacher.
Or, to put it another way, the cheating German swine has quit.
At, 37, and with a record-breaking seven world titles to his name, Ferrari driver Schuey has decided it's time to take his foot off the gas. Take pole position on the sofa. Pull into the slow lane. Cruise into the sunset.
Having racked up 90 victories, 68 pole positions, 75 fastest laps, plus a record-busting 13 wins in a season (2004) and 148 points in a season (also 2004) , he will be able to lie back in retirement with satisfaction.
And having cut Fernando Alonso's title lead to just two pints, an eighth title is looking very possible.
But the hero of the tifosi will leave behind a legacy that is far from pure genius. In fact, as Marc Almond once almost said, Schumacher's reign has been dogged by tainted love.
In 1994, then with Benetton, Schumacher grabbed his first world title in sickening circumstances.
In the final race in Australia, the German was about to lose the title to Brit Damon Hill after his Benetton suffered a terminal fault.
As Hill passed, Schuey swung his Benetton deliberartely into Hill's Williams - taking both cars out of the race and clinching the title. Disgusting.
At the Spanish Grand Prix in Jerez in 1997, Schuey pulled off a similar manoeuvre as Jaques Villeneuve slipped past on the way to the title. All of a sudden BANG. Ferrari hits Williams. But this time Villeneuve's Williams escaped unscathed. Schuey finished second in the drivers' title before being stripped of his runners' up spot.
Both occasions highlight the desperate measures the German will go to in order to win.
What was the difference between 1994 and 1997? The FIA took action when Shcuey finished second in 1997 but did not dare strip him of his title three years earlier. Total cop-out.
Strip the sports biggest star of his first world title? No chance. But he cheated! Sorry, no. I mean, really cheated! No can do. Schumacher quite unliterally got way with murder.
Such dangerous and desperate driving should have been stamped out quickly and harshly. But, as happened on numerous occasions in Schumacher's career, he got off lightly.
While with Benetton he was banned after his team were found guilty of tampering with their fuel hose, taking out a safety valve so they could get fuel into the engine quicker. This is the same team who nearly cremated Jos Verstappen earlier that season when their fuel hose, and then the Dutchman's car, caught fire.
Even this season (2006) Schumacher proved he had not matured from his cheating ways when he deliberately parked his car on a dangerous corner in Monaco to stop anyone else going faster than him in qualifying.
He was slated over night and, thankfully, was stripped of his pole by race stewards.
I remember when Schumacher made his debut for Jordan at the Belgium Grand Prix where he stunned the sport with a superb qualifying lap (seventh). His first race did not last longer than a lap but he had done enough to win a move to Benetton for the next race. He never looked back.
For the first half of his 16-year F1 career Schuey rarely made a driving error. Spins and slides creeped into his driving later on, but much of that came as he pushed an inferior car to victory. And even when he did spin, he would more often than not get away with it because of his lightning quick reactions.
Juan-Pablo Montoya was a far more exciting driver for me, but he slipped out of Formula 1 earlier this season with nothing to show for his efforts. Schuey was a winner.
Like the late, great Ayrton Senna, Schumacher controlled his teams at Benetton and Ferrari, insisting that all efforts to win were concentrated on him - at the expense of his team-mates.
In 1999, after breaking a leg and missing much of the season, Ferrari team-mate Eddie Irvine went into the final race with a chance of taking the title from Mika Hakkinen. If Schuamcher won the race, the title was Irvine's. But there was no way Schuey was going to let another driver bring Ferrari a first championship since 1979. The German finished second to Hakkinen, Irvine third. Hakkinen took the title by two points. Funny that.
But Schuey did win the title himself in 2000. All the glory. You can't have some playboy Irishman strolling in taking the headlines.
David Coulthard called it right the weekend Schuey announced his retirement, highlighting the flashpoints and revealing what little respect some drivers have for the German.
Great driver, yes. Hideous role model? Without doubt.
You can't respect a man who cheats his way to victory. It's not the British way.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Shame of a Nation. Owen Hargreaves, England fans and the press.
By Garry Cook
Why’s he picking Owen Hargreaves? He is s***. F****** S***. W*****. Total B*******.
So the conversations went for 12 months before, during and after every England game up until the World Cup.
Just why was Hargreaves, the young European Cup-winning Bayern Munich central midfield anchorman, being selected for his country? Can’t think why, me.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that this was the popular view of almost every England fan across the country, these thoughts were also echoed by the majority of sports journalists.
Professional writers. Paid for their opinions. Getting it totally wrong. Prize tossers.
These guys should at least be aware of the finer points of the game enough to appreciate Hargreaves’s worth.
That they weren’t was shameful.
You can forgive a crowd of football fans whipping themselves up into a misguided frenzy as England failed to inspire in their friendly and World Cup qualifiers.
But what I can’t stomach are the ‘professionals’ giving opinions equally ill-informed.
If England played badly against Denmark (friendly, 4-1 loss) or Northern Ireland (World Cup qualifier, 1-0 loss), was it really the fault of Hargreaves?
The central midfielder (just to reiterate his position) was rarely picked by former England coach Sven Goran Eriksson – and when he was he was played out of position on the right wing. In the two games mentioned Hargreaves came on as a late sub, replacing Frank Lampard both times (this bit is crucial).
And you can forget the fact that (arguably) he was England’s best player in the games he played in before injury in the 2002 World Cup in Japan and South Korea. Well, you should not forget that fact. But, evidently, you can.
Quite simply, it is a case of out of sight, out of mind for Hargreaves.
Hands up if you know who Bayern Munich played the weekend after the internationals in September*. Come on someone, have a guess. Anybody at the back want to have a go?
No. Didn’t think you’d get that one. And that’s the problem when it comes to Hargreaves. Unless you’re living in Germany, you won’t know what he’s up to. And it’s just too damn easy to criticise someone who’s not around. Totally unjust, but easy.
By the time the World Cup came around, fans and football writers were united in jeering the Canadian-born player at Old Trafford.
It was mass stupidity on a grand scale. Hargreaves was forced to defend himself, saying he understood the criticisms. He was careful not to upset the fans further when he should have stood up, lobbed the V’s and walked out.
Why hardly any writers were calling for Hargreaves to be installed in his favoured central midfield role with either Steve Gerrard or (preferably) Lamaprd axed, god only knows.
Some football columnists play a manipulative game of always giving their opinions based on fans’ views. Keep the fans on side, they think, and you can say almost anything you want.
That is fine until the fans are coming out with total b******s. That’s when you earn your money as a writer, that’s when you stand up and be counted. Go against the grain, show your incisiveness, be pro-active not re-active.
All too may failed. They know who they are.
To his credit, Eriksson ignored the popular opinion and selected Hargreaves for the England squad heading for Germany.
Only problem was, the Swede fudged it by refusing to drop his darlings Gerrard and Lampard in favour of the Bayern midfielder.
And when it became plainly obvious that the two attacking midfielders don’t work together (despite having four years to work that one out) in came Hargreaves.
Only problem was, Eriksson still refused to drop his dead duo. England stuttered out of the tournament on penalties to Portugal in the quarter-finals.
But guess what? Hargreaves emerged as (arguably) our best player. Again.
Now, like Peter Crouch who was also booed by England fans in the build-up to the World Cup, he is the darling of the English media. Even Manchester United tried to sign him.
But what happens in four years’ time? Will Hargreaves be booed and blasted again by his country’s fans? Absence, as they say, makes the heart go fonder. Makes your brain frazzled as well, apparently.
* Bayern Munich did not play the weekend after the international fixtures. On Saturday, September 16, they travelled to Arminia Bielefeld. Hargreaves broke his leg in the match.
Why’s he picking Owen Hargreaves? He is s***. F****** S***. W*****. Total B*******.
So the conversations went for 12 months before, during and after every England game up until the World Cup.
Just why was Hargreaves, the young European Cup-winning Bayern Munich central midfield anchorman, being selected for his country? Can’t think why, me.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that this was the popular view of almost every England fan across the country, these thoughts were also echoed by the majority of sports journalists.
Professional writers. Paid for their opinions. Getting it totally wrong. Prize tossers.
These guys should at least be aware of the finer points of the game enough to appreciate Hargreaves’s worth.
That they weren’t was shameful.
You can forgive a crowd of football fans whipping themselves up into a misguided frenzy as England failed to inspire in their friendly and World Cup qualifiers.
But what I can’t stomach are the ‘professionals’ giving opinions equally ill-informed.
If England played badly against Denmark (friendly, 4-1 loss) or Northern Ireland (World Cup qualifier, 1-0 loss), was it really the fault of Hargreaves?
The central midfielder (just to reiterate his position) was rarely picked by former England coach Sven Goran Eriksson – and when he was he was played out of position on the right wing. In the two games mentioned Hargreaves came on as a late sub, replacing Frank Lampard both times (this bit is crucial).
And you can forget the fact that (arguably) he was England’s best player in the games he played in before injury in the 2002 World Cup in Japan and South Korea. Well, you should not forget that fact. But, evidently, you can.
Quite simply, it is a case of out of sight, out of mind for Hargreaves.
Hands up if you know who Bayern Munich played the weekend after the internationals in September*. Come on someone, have a guess. Anybody at the back want to have a go?
No. Didn’t think you’d get that one. And that’s the problem when it comes to Hargreaves. Unless you’re living in Germany, you won’t know what he’s up to. And it’s just too damn easy to criticise someone who’s not around. Totally unjust, but easy.
By the time the World Cup came around, fans and football writers were united in jeering the Canadian-born player at Old Trafford.
It was mass stupidity on a grand scale. Hargreaves was forced to defend himself, saying he understood the criticisms. He was careful not to upset the fans further when he should have stood up, lobbed the V’s and walked out.
Why hardly any writers were calling for Hargreaves to be installed in his favoured central midfield role with either Steve Gerrard or (preferably) Lamaprd axed, god only knows.
Some football columnists play a manipulative game of always giving their opinions based on fans’ views. Keep the fans on side, they think, and you can say almost anything you want.
That is fine until the fans are coming out with total b******s. That’s when you earn your money as a writer, that’s when you stand up and be counted. Go against the grain, show your incisiveness, be pro-active not re-active.
All too may failed. They know who they are.
To his credit, Eriksson ignored the popular opinion and selected Hargreaves for the England squad heading for Germany.
Only problem was, the Swede fudged it by refusing to drop his darlings Gerrard and Lampard in favour of the Bayern midfielder.
And when it became plainly obvious that the two attacking midfielders don’t work together (despite having four years to work that one out) in came Hargreaves.
Only problem was, Eriksson still refused to drop his dead duo. England stuttered out of the tournament on penalties to Portugal in the quarter-finals.
But guess what? Hargreaves emerged as (arguably) our best player. Again.
Now, like Peter Crouch who was also booed by England fans in the build-up to the World Cup, he is the darling of the English media. Even Manchester United tried to sign him.
But what happens in four years’ time? Will Hargreaves be booed and blasted again by his country’s fans? Absence, as they say, makes the heart go fonder. Makes your brain frazzled as well, apparently.
* Bayern Munich did not play the weekend after the international fixtures. On Saturday, September 16, they travelled to Arminia Bielefeld. Hargreaves broke his leg in the match.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Chelsea, William Gallas and Peter Kenyon. A Premier joke.
By Garry Cook
Whatever the truth about William Gallas and his fall-out with Chelsea, there is one
thing we can be sure of: his former club are the most hypocritical petty whingers the game has ever seen.
Chelsea's issuing of a statement because it was 'important for our supporters to be made aware of the full facts regarding William Gallas and the lack of respect he showed to the fans, the manager and the club' is as hypocritical as an arsonist phoning the fire brigade on bonfire night.
The sheer regularity in which either Chelsea, chief executive Peter Kenyon or manager Jose Mourinho get into spats with UEFA/FIFA/Barcelona/Arsene Wenger/Sir Alex Ferguson/Ken Bates should be enough for the Blues to realise that silence is golden - or at least a helluva lot more peaceful.
But it is the sheer pettiness of Chelsea - and one can only presume Kenyon is behind the statement - which riles.
If you accept that revealing to fans what Gallas allegedly said is fair enough, surely you can't stomach the way Chelsea twist the knife.
Part of their statement on Gallas read: "He also failed to recognise the role Jose Mourinho and Chelsea played in helping him become a double Premiership champion for a player whose only league title prior to that had been in the French Second Division."
Why add in the bit about 'only' winning a league title previously in the French Second Division?
As well as upsetting the French Second Division (possibly) all this sentence does is highlight the fact that the bitter Blues are not in control of their emotions.
It leads to reader to think that the Blues have been scorned by Gallas, like a 15-year-old girl high on hormones who has just lost her boyfriend to the bird across the street.
No, Chelsea sitting on the moral high ground does not rest easily on the stomach.
This is the club, remember, who in recent weeks paid Manchester United £12m (plus £4m to Lyn Oslo) for Jon Obi Mikel, a player they were all but found guilty of tapping up from Lyn despite him having signed a deal with United. They denied making any contact with Mikel, even though the player stated a desire to join the Stamford Bridge after having signed with United. Strange.
The fact that they stumped up so much cash for a teenager who never played any kind of match for United is an admission of guilt as much as it is an admission of desperation to get their hands on the player.
They also, in the words of Leeds chairman Bates, 'tapped up' two Elland Road kids. When Bates labelled Chelsea 'a bunch of shysters from Siberia' they issued a statement accusing him of racism (Chelsea's Russian owner Roman Abramovich is Jewish) but nothing by way of an apology for taking two of Leeds' potential stars. Apologise? Chelsea? Are you out of your tree?
Then there was Mourinho's labelling of his own player Claude Makelele a 'slave' after he was called up for international duty with France after retiring.
Instead of asking their manager to lay off the mud slinging, Chelsea issued yet another statement labelling comments by France, their coach Raymond Domenech and Lilian Thuram "Ill-considered."
Ill-considered? Mourinho called him a slave!
The statement went on: "They (France, Domenech and Thuram) also fail to understand Jose Mourinho's comments regarding 'slavery' which were purely a metaphor to illustrate the Makelele problem, a figure of speech rather than a literal comparison with slavery as a social and political issue. As a result of their failings, deliberately inflammatory comments will only cloud a problem which is on its way to being resolved."
How dare they. How f****** dare they! If calling a black player a slave is not inflammatory, then hold my hat I'm jumping in the nearest river. I can't take any more of this.
Chelsea were riled, by the way, after Thuram had dared to criticise Mourinho's use of the world slave. Clearly Thuram should have known better!
There are countless other cases of Chelsea tapping up, arguing, bullying and defying soccer laws.
In many respects, these things are accepted as part and parcel of football. What club doesn't tap up? What manager doesn't say things which annoys another manager?
What riles about Chelsea is the way one arm complains it has been violated while the other violates in the worst possible way.
Though the Gallas problem had been simmering for a while (as early as last season, Chelsea claim) it only came to a head on the back of the Stamford Bridge club's outrageous tapping up of Arsenal full-back Ashley Cole. And they even tried to squirm there way out of that one despite granite-like evidence. They were recently fined £300,000 and had a suspended three-point deduction imposed by the Premier League.
The fact that Kenyon and Mourinho - a manager I rate, though I have grown tired of his whinging - were virtually forced to hand over Gallas in the deal that saw Cole move across London is the only piece of pleasurable most fans will take from this whole sorry story.
Whatever the truth about William Gallas and his fall-out with Chelsea, there is one
thing we can be sure of: his former club are the most hypocritical petty whingers the game has ever seen.
Chelsea's issuing of a statement because it was 'important for our supporters to be made aware of the full facts regarding William Gallas and the lack of respect he showed to the fans, the manager and the club' is as hypocritical as an arsonist phoning the fire brigade on bonfire night.
The sheer regularity in which either Chelsea, chief executive Peter Kenyon or manager Jose Mourinho get into spats with UEFA/FIFA/Barcelona/Arsene Wenger/Sir Alex Ferguson/Ken Bates should be enough for the Blues to realise that silence is golden - or at least a helluva lot more peaceful.
But it is the sheer pettiness of Chelsea - and one can only presume Kenyon is behind the statement - which riles.
If you accept that revealing to fans what Gallas allegedly said is fair enough, surely you can't stomach the way Chelsea twist the knife.
Part of their statement on Gallas read: "He also failed to recognise the role Jose Mourinho and Chelsea played in helping him become a double Premiership champion for a player whose only league title prior to that had been in the French Second Division."
Why add in the bit about 'only' winning a league title previously in the French Second Division?
As well as upsetting the French Second Division (possibly) all this sentence does is highlight the fact that the bitter Blues are not in control of their emotions.
It leads to reader to think that the Blues have been scorned by Gallas, like a 15-year-old girl high on hormones who has just lost her boyfriend to the bird across the street.
No, Chelsea sitting on the moral high ground does not rest easily on the stomach.
This is the club, remember, who in recent weeks paid Manchester United £12m (plus £4m to Lyn Oslo) for Jon Obi Mikel, a player they were all but found guilty of tapping up from Lyn despite him having signed a deal with United. They denied making any contact with Mikel, even though the player stated a desire to join the Stamford Bridge after having signed with United. Strange.
The fact that they stumped up so much cash for a teenager who never played any kind of match for United is an admission of guilt as much as it is an admission of desperation to get their hands on the player.
They also, in the words of Leeds chairman Bates, 'tapped up' two Elland Road kids. When Bates labelled Chelsea 'a bunch of shysters from Siberia' they issued a statement accusing him of racism (Chelsea's Russian owner Roman Abramovich is Jewish) but nothing by way of an apology for taking two of Leeds' potential stars. Apologise? Chelsea? Are you out of your tree?
Then there was Mourinho's labelling of his own player Claude Makelele a 'slave' after he was called up for international duty with France after retiring.
Instead of asking their manager to lay off the mud slinging, Chelsea issued yet another statement labelling comments by France, their coach Raymond Domenech and Lilian Thuram "Ill-considered."
Ill-considered? Mourinho called him a slave!
The statement went on: "They (France, Domenech and Thuram) also fail to understand Jose Mourinho's comments regarding 'slavery' which were purely a metaphor to illustrate the Makelele problem, a figure of speech rather than a literal comparison with slavery as a social and political issue. As a result of their failings, deliberately inflammatory comments will only cloud a problem which is on its way to being resolved."
How dare they. How f****** dare they! If calling a black player a slave is not inflammatory, then hold my hat I'm jumping in the nearest river. I can't take any more of this.
Chelsea were riled, by the way, after Thuram had dared to criticise Mourinho's use of the world slave. Clearly Thuram should have known better!
There are countless other cases of Chelsea tapping up, arguing, bullying and defying soccer laws.
In many respects, these things are accepted as part and parcel of football. What club doesn't tap up? What manager doesn't say things which annoys another manager?
What riles about Chelsea is the way one arm complains it has been violated while the other violates in the worst possible way.
Though the Gallas problem had been simmering for a while (as early as last season, Chelsea claim) it only came to a head on the back of the Stamford Bridge club's outrageous tapping up of Arsenal full-back Ashley Cole. And they even tried to squirm there way out of that one despite granite-like evidence. They were recently fined £300,000 and had a suspended three-point deduction imposed by the Premier League.
The fact that Kenyon and Mourinho - a manager I rate, though I have grown tired of his whinging - were virtually forced to hand over Gallas in the deal that saw Cole move across London is the only piece of pleasurable most fans will take from this whole sorry story.
Roy Keane is Sunderland's saviour? Before we say that we need to be sure, to be sure.
By Garry Cook
He’s ‘apologised’ to Niall Quinn and Sir Alex Ferguson and told us all that he wasn’t that great a player anyway – and all this before he has actually taken charge of his first match.
Yes, the Roy Keane road show has rolled into town.
Inside his first week the snarling, unforgiving, brutal bastard broke with protocol by saying sorry and pledging to be a bit more subtle.
In his inaugural press conference as Sunderland boss only one journalist had the balls to question Keane about his treatment of former republic of Ireland team-mate Niall Quinn.
As Sunderland’s chairman, Quinn is now embarrassingly Keane’s boss. He was sitting alongside Keane when the question was asked. I’m cringing even now thinking about the pairs past and present situation.
After Keane fell out with Republic of Ireland boss Mick McCarthy on the eve of the World Cup in 2002, the former Manchester United midfielder labelled the ex-Sunderland striker, amongst other things, a muppet.
When the pair met later that year at the Stadium of Light there was a rather acrimonious incident as Quinn, to his credit, tried to shake the hand of Keane.
Unfortunately, Quinn made his gesture after the volatile Irishman Keane had been sent off following a running battle with another Republic player, Jason McAteer.
It was this incident which was mentioned in the press conference. Keane brushed the question aside like a seasoned pro (which he is) and stated that he had realised his mistakes and totally changed his opinion of Quinn – but he had NOT done so to get the Sunderland job. Roy Keane does not arse lick.
His steely stare meant there were no more questions on the subject. Basically, Keane got off lightly. Again. Professionally, no journalist in the room wanted to upset Keane for fear of being denied access to him in the future. And privately, no journalist wanted to upset Keane for fear.
On the rare occasion Keane forced a smile, I was wincing. It didn’t look right. It wasn’t Roy Keane.
There were huge similarities in the way Keane brushed away his past misdemeanours at the press conference and the way he excused his past thug-like behaviour in his autobiography.
In his book there was a lot of metaphorical shrugging of the shoulders as Keane glossed over his World Cup fiasco, his relationship with his Irish team-mates and the number of pitch fights he readily took part in.
However much of a great player Keane was, should he ever be forgiven for his deliberate maiming of Manchester City’s Alfe Inge Haaland in 2001, a tackle which ended the Norwegian’s career and was retribution for Keane’s cruciate injury during a spat with the same player years earlier?
Keane recalled in his book: "I’d waited long enough. I f***ing hit him hard. The ball was there [I think]."
What a lovely man.
It’s seems churlish to mention Keane’s other numerous flashpoints – Patrick Vieira (several) and Alan Shearer at St James’ Park being the highlights – but the point is made. Keane is a bastard. Luckily for Sunderland, having taken the title for the worst team ever to grace the Premiership twice, they are in desperate need of a bastard.
No Sunderland fan is 100 per cent chuffed at Keane’s appointment. No experience = no confidence. But things have been so bad on Wearside for so long that they’ll to cling to any bit of hope they can.
Sunderland’s first win – and points - of the season came in the Bank Holiday Monday home victory over West Brom. They had suffered four straight defeats before then, including a loss to Colchester – and not including a Carling Cup defeat to League Two’s then bottom side Bury. Was it a coincidence that Keane was sat in the stand watching his prospective new club when they put in their best performance for nearly four years?
Maybe that assumption is hard on Quinn who finally got a positive result in his short stint as caretaker manager.
But it’s onwards and upwards, that’s what Sunderland fans are saying. Forget the past, look forward. Yes, he’s a bastard, just let the bastard stick it up our shower of s***.
In his book, Keane went out of his way to blast the managerial ‘bluffers’, those who lack tactical awareness and instead shout and scream in the dressing room. At the time, this was taken to be a swipe at manager’s like then Sunderland boss Peter Reid.
So it was with a smile on my face that I watched Keane in his first week of full training at Sunderland standing alongside Bobby Saxton, Reid’s former assistant who Quinn brought back to the club at the start of this season.
Saxton was said to be the bawler behind Reid’s mostly successful stint at the Stadium of Light. Will Keane be as good as his words and turf the wily old coach out? Or can he really forgive and forget?
It’ll be fast and furious at the Stadium of Light under Keane, and it is unfair to suggest this great player will not cut it as a manager purely because he was a great player. Idiot's logic.
Keane was as good a player that has played in the Premiership, possibly even the best. But at times he was also as good as a thug.
How long will he stay on Wearside? How good a manager will he be? And how long before he falls out with Quinn again, never mind Dwight Yorke. He’s s***, yes, but it would be s*** without him.
It’s important to give a bloke a chance, or a second chance, or whatever. We must not to be prejudicial. Before we make any judgement on whether Keane has changed, we need to be sure, to be sure.
He’s ‘apologised’ to Niall Quinn and Sir Alex Ferguson and told us all that he wasn’t that great a player anyway – and all this before he has actually taken charge of his first match.
Yes, the Roy Keane road show has rolled into town.
Inside his first week the snarling, unforgiving, brutal bastard broke with protocol by saying sorry and pledging to be a bit more subtle.
In his inaugural press conference as Sunderland boss only one journalist had the balls to question Keane about his treatment of former republic of Ireland team-mate Niall Quinn.
As Sunderland’s chairman, Quinn is now embarrassingly Keane’s boss. He was sitting alongside Keane when the question was asked. I’m cringing even now thinking about the pairs past and present situation.
After Keane fell out with Republic of Ireland boss Mick McCarthy on the eve of the World Cup in 2002, the former Manchester United midfielder labelled the ex-Sunderland striker, amongst other things, a muppet.
When the pair met later that year at the Stadium of Light there was a rather acrimonious incident as Quinn, to his credit, tried to shake the hand of Keane.
Unfortunately, Quinn made his gesture after the volatile Irishman Keane had been sent off following a running battle with another Republic player, Jason McAteer.
It was this incident which was mentioned in the press conference. Keane brushed the question aside like a seasoned pro (which he is) and stated that he had realised his mistakes and totally changed his opinion of Quinn – but he had NOT done so to get the Sunderland job. Roy Keane does not arse lick.
His steely stare meant there were no more questions on the subject. Basically, Keane got off lightly. Again. Professionally, no journalist in the room wanted to upset Keane for fear of being denied access to him in the future. And privately, no journalist wanted to upset Keane for fear.
On the rare occasion Keane forced a smile, I was wincing. It didn’t look right. It wasn’t Roy Keane.
There were huge similarities in the way Keane brushed away his past misdemeanours at the press conference and the way he excused his past thug-like behaviour in his autobiography.
In his book there was a lot of metaphorical shrugging of the shoulders as Keane glossed over his World Cup fiasco, his relationship with his Irish team-mates and the number of pitch fights he readily took part in.
However much of a great player Keane was, should he ever be forgiven for his deliberate maiming of Manchester City’s Alfe Inge Haaland in 2001, a tackle which ended the Norwegian’s career and was retribution for Keane’s cruciate injury during a spat with the same player years earlier?
Keane recalled in his book: "I’d waited long enough. I f***ing hit him hard. The ball was there [I think]."
What a lovely man.
It’s seems churlish to mention Keane’s other numerous flashpoints – Patrick Vieira (several) and Alan Shearer at St James’ Park being the highlights – but the point is made. Keane is a bastard. Luckily for Sunderland, having taken the title for the worst team ever to grace the Premiership twice, they are in desperate need of a bastard.
No Sunderland fan is 100 per cent chuffed at Keane’s appointment. No experience = no confidence. But things have been so bad on Wearside for so long that they’ll to cling to any bit of hope they can.
Sunderland’s first win – and points - of the season came in the Bank Holiday Monday home victory over West Brom. They had suffered four straight defeats before then, including a loss to Colchester – and not including a Carling Cup defeat to League Two’s then bottom side Bury. Was it a coincidence that Keane was sat in the stand watching his prospective new club when they put in their best performance for nearly four years?
Maybe that assumption is hard on Quinn who finally got a positive result in his short stint as caretaker manager.
But it’s onwards and upwards, that’s what Sunderland fans are saying. Forget the past, look forward. Yes, he’s a bastard, just let the bastard stick it up our shower of s***.
In his book, Keane went out of his way to blast the managerial ‘bluffers’, those who lack tactical awareness and instead shout and scream in the dressing room. At the time, this was taken to be a swipe at manager’s like then Sunderland boss Peter Reid.
So it was with a smile on my face that I watched Keane in his first week of full training at Sunderland standing alongside Bobby Saxton, Reid’s former assistant who Quinn brought back to the club at the start of this season.
Saxton was said to be the bawler behind Reid’s mostly successful stint at the Stadium of Light. Will Keane be as good as his words and turf the wily old coach out? Or can he really forgive and forget?
It’ll be fast and furious at the Stadium of Light under Keane, and it is unfair to suggest this great player will not cut it as a manager purely because he was a great player. Idiot's logic.
Keane was as good a player that has played in the Premiership, possibly even the best. But at times he was also as good as a thug.
How long will he stay on Wearside? How good a manager will he be? And how long before he falls out with Quinn again, never mind Dwight Yorke. He’s s***, yes, but it would be s*** without him.
It’s important to give a bloke a chance, or a second chance, or whatever. We must not to be prejudicial. Before we make any judgement on whether Keane has changed, we need to be sure, to be sure.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)