Damned United II: The Sequel - Mountainstriker

Tom Hooper’s ‘The Damned United’ staring Michael Sheen as Brian Clough is currently playing to favourable reviews across the nation. Based on David Peace’s 2006 book of the same name, the film recounts ‘ol Big ‘ead’s turbulent 44 days at the helm of Leeds United in 1974. Most of the stories are common currency amongst football folk – how Clough deserted his long-time ally Peter Taylor to take the job, how he despised Leeds’ physical style and what he saw as gamesmanship, his address to the squad in which he told them to throw their medals in the bin as ‘’…you got them all by cheating’, the inevitable player revolt, poor results and dismissal - only for Clough to re-emerge triumphantly at Nottingham Forest with Taylor by his side.

The subtext to both the film and book is the inevitability of a clash between a squad of successful players and a manager who had raised Derby County not only to be their arch-rivals but the antithesis of their playing style and beliefs. It’s possible that this difference was exaggerated at the time and that this film will serve only to magnify it. Though few would dispute that Leeds could look after themselves (one has only to think of Jack Charlton’s little book of those marked for future retribution) they were also a supremely skilful side that accommodated the wiles of Johnny Giles, Peter Lorimer and Eddie Gray as well as bruisers like Charlton and Norman Hunter. Even the arch enforcer himself, Billy Bremner, could play a bit. This after all, was a side that reached European finals in 1973 and 1975.

Shortly before his death in 2004, Clough gave an extended interview to the BBC. Yellow faced and bloated from a recent liver transplant, he was asked whether any of the current managerial crop caught his eye. His response,

‘I like the look of Mourinho, there's a bit of the young Clough about him. For a start, he's good-looking and, like me, he doesn't believe in the star system. He's consumed with team spirit and discipline,’

has been regarded ever since to be the anointing of his successor.

Certainly there are parallels – like Clough, Mourinho took a provincial side to European victory, defeating the likes of Manchester United en route. He also won the English championship in his first season and has always been good for a controversial (and often funny) quote.

But there are significant differences. Clough’s teams, particularly his First Division and European Cup Forest winning sides of 1978-80, were notable for their willingness to pass to feet and hit on the break – an approach exemplified by his principal forwards at that time - Woodcock, Birtles, Francis and Robertson. Though Clough could also accommodate the more rudimentary attributes of Peter Withe, he would have scorned Mourinho’s reliance on long balls to Didier Drogba and his current taste for Zlatan Imbrahimovic. He would also have been disappointed by Mourninho’s failure to play to the strengths of Andriy Shevchenko and his decision to sell ball-carrying wingers like Damien Duff and Arjen Robben. In retrospect, it’s not inconceivable that, had he lived to see them, Clough would have regarded Mourinho’s later Chesea teams similarly to the Leeds side of the early 70s.

So I find it surprising that Mourniho is often touted to succeed Alex Ferguson at Manchester United. If any manager could be said to have carried Clough’s legacy over the last 20 years then surely it’s Ferguson and not the Special One. Their teams have had far more than Roy Keane in common. Defensive parsimony built on buying the best keeper available (Shilton/Schmeichal/Van Der Saar) and a no-nonsense centre half (Lloyd/Burns/Stam/Vidic); midfielders who can pass (McGovern/O’Neill/Scholes/Carrick); tricky and pacy wingers (Robertson/Giggs/Kancheskis/Ronaldo) and mobile forwards with both skill and an eye for goal Woodcock/Francis/Clough/Yorke/Sheringham/Rooney). United at their best pass, move at pace and counter attack in the best traditions of Clough’s Forest. Hell, they even have the same red nose.


Sit down Mourinho

Mourinho’s arrival at Old Trafford would mean a wholesale demolition of Ferguson’s legacy.

Though I’m sure he wouldn’t proffer a bucket for Ronaldo’s medals, I doubt that he would oppose his move to Real Madrid as stubbornly. Man U fans know this, instinctively sensing that Mourinho is not one of them. Anyone who stood behind Mourinho while Inter succumbed to United last month can’t have failed to notice that Old Trafford paid scant attention to the game, preferring to indulge in 70,000 strong choruses of ‘Sit down Mourinho’, ‘Bye Bye Mourinho’ and hilariously ‘You’re not Special anymore’ throughout. Just as Elland Road never accepted Clough, Mourinho would always be ‘the other’. How long would it be before the rumours of player revolt stated? Paul Scholes or Ryan Giggs as Johnny Giles anyone? My money’s on Gary Neville.

Sporting changes - Mac Millings

As fans of sport, we are becoming increasingly disillusioned by the growing gap between how our favourite sports are played now, and how we think they should be played. The following simple rule changes are guaranteed to redress the balance.

Tennis:
To avoid increasingly boring domination by a select few players of all surfaces, replace grass, hard and clay courts with 3 of the following: ice; forest; prison yard; babies; lava; bed of nails, trampoline.

Athletics:
As part of a bid for greater transparency in sport, Javelin, Shot Put and Hammer events to be renamed, ‘Throwing A Big Sharp Stick’, ‘Throwing A Heavy Ball On The End Of A Chain’ and ‘Fat People Throwing A Metal Ball From Under Their Chin’.

Boxing:
Scrap the 17 weight-based divisions, replacing them with 17 sobriety-based ones, distinguished by the number of pints imbibed prior to the bout, from 1 to 17. Also known as the ‘Ricky Hatton Rule’.

Cycling:
Mandatory drug testing, to ensure a level playing field. Any cyclist discovered to be clean should be forced to take performance-enhancing substances.

Darts:
Not a rule change, but Darts has been awarded Olympic Status for London 2012, along with fellow pub-based sports, Drunken Pontificating, “Do You Want To Take This Outside?”, and Throwing Up On That Really Cute Girl You Only Just Met.

Squash:
In order to make the sport more appealing to young people, Squash to be renamed “Energy Drink!”

Cricket:
The game is crying out for new technology that can tell us with certainty whether that sharp nip-backer did, indeed, clank the batsman in the balls, rather than merely on the abdomen or inner thigh. Said technology to be named Soft Spot. Or CockEye. Or Testicometer.

SuperCav wins ... Classic for the first time! – mimitig

In August 2008 headlines in the mainstream sports media switched from endless stories about the dirty world of druggie Pro-cycling to glorious tributes to Dave Brailsford’s Team GB Cyclists. Mostly the Track boys and girls, but a nod here and there to the wonderful Welshwoman Nicole Cook. By September cycling was almost forgotten bar a tiny tiny wee mention for Nicole who did the never-before done double of winning Olympic Gold and The World Championship.

In January 2009 the worst kept secret in sport was out in the public arena. Yes, Lance Armstrong was back and had the rules changed so that he could compete in season-opener, The Tour Downunder.

Now far be it from me to carp about cycling getting headlines for good reasons, but when I saw the one this weekend at:

http://sports.espn.go.com/oly/cycling/news/story?id=4003350

it made my blood boil.

“Lance finishes well back of Cavendish”

Outrageous. What it should have read was:

“Cycling Superstar The Manx Express Cavendish breaks 45 year British duck to win Classic”

Armstrong is a has-been [and yes, I will publicly eat my words if he wins anything this year] whose reasons for returning to the sport are far from clear and who has a questionable reputation. Not for winning all his Tours fired up with dubious substances – I think that has been long laid to rest for lack of evidence – but for the way he went about his racing. He never aspired to do anything else except win Le Tour and made sure that when he raced, his team was made up of the best super-domestiques money could buy to ensure that they could burn off the opposition. Now there is nothing inherently wrong in winning that way, but no-one could convincingly argue that it was in the spirit of the sport, or that it actually did the sport any good.

What happened in San Remo on Saturday 21 March was the breath of fresh air that cycling needs so desperately and the coverage of SuperCav’s win has been pretty underwhelming.

There are pieces in the mainstream media. The Guardian has this:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/sport/2009/mar/22/mark-cavendish-milan-san-remo-win

The Times has this:

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/sport/more_sport/cycling/article5956522.ece

Reading either of these pieces might presuppose a casual reader to the idea that the sporting press gives a shit about cycling. They don’t and nowhere, except here or in the specialist media has anyone had much to say about the phenomenon that is Mark Cavendish.

Mark Cavendish is one of the brightest stars shining on the cycling, indeed sporting, stage and as if winning four stages of Le Tour last year wasn’t enough, he’s just gone and done the business and won one of the most famous one-day Classics on the cycling calendar. And he wasn’t even in it to win it. Before the season started Mark said of this race that he’d never done it before and although “2009 is going to be massive” he [didn’t] “expect the victories to come reeling off like they did in 2008 [he took 17 wins last year]. It just won’t happen.”

Understand that Mark is not the shy and retiring type. He has a level of confidence that is oft perceived as arrogance and he is no stranger to comments that border on the offensive – his views on Belgian Golden (Cocaine) Boy Tom Boonen are well-publicised.

So for his season to have started as it has: the first outing resulted in two stage wins in the Tour of Qatar in the first week of February. A week later our man trolled over to the States to take part in the Tour of California – rapidly gaining kudos and importance in the view of cycling enthusiasts, and guess what – he took Stages Four and Five.

Then he consolidated his form, picking up the final stage win of the Tirreno-Adriatico giving him five stage wins in the opening races of the season and on a par with Mattia Gavazzi (not in his class, a winner in Langkawi for goodness sake!), and ahead of Italian superstar Daniele Bennati.

Winning Milan-San Remo, and in the style that he did – by a tyre’s breath (or even breadth) from Germany’s Heinrich Haussler (second to Contador in Paris-Nice earlier in March) confirms the utter class of this British cyclist. Boonen needled Mark constantly before the race suggesting that any fast fool can win sprints in a stage race but only a great rider wins a Classic.

Mark’s response – blow Boonen away over the climbs and win one of the best Classics on the calendar. At his first attempt. At only 23.

It is clear to me that Mark is well on the way to being one of the very best in the world, worthy to take over the mantle of that prince of sprinters and all-round good guy: Robbie McEwen

Robbie finished 67th in San Remo last weekend. He’s closing on 37 years of age, truly old for a pro-cyclist but I have no doubt at all that he would rather see his crown pass to SuperCav than CocoBoon.

However before Mark gets out on the road again in April for Paris-Roubaix (“I am going to the Hell of the North come what may” – he said in January), cycling fans should get the chance to see him back on the track this week.

After Beijing, when Mark was the only British cyclist to return home having not “medalled”, he said that was over for him and the track. To everyone’s amazement he has been included in the squad that take on the world in Poland:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/other_sports/cycling/7945829.stm

While I can understand he has a point to prove, personally I wish he’d focus on the road and making damn sure that when the mainstream press does bother itself with cycling we get less of:

“Poor Lancie breaks collarbone” and more of

“SuperCav wins again”.

Testing times and unfriendly friendlies - Ringo37

It’s the standard-issue answer from your standard-issue sports professional as (with his standard-issue fat tie-knot and hairfudge-moulded mullet) he fronts up to the standard-issue post-match inquisition: “The result,” he’ll say, “is the main thing.”

Well, what if it wasn’t? What if the result wasn’t the main thing? What if the result wasn’t anything?

Modern football – hell, maybe football full-stop – is devout in its devotion to the result. “Ask any supporter,” we’re often told, “and they’ll take three points over a good performance any day of the week”. Your greatest sporting memory? “Reading in the paper that we’d stuffed the Mackems (or, as it might be, the Bluenoses, or the Skates, or whoever) 2-1.”

Perhaps this is because football is our most rabidly partisan sport. Results matter because Our Team matters. The team takes precedence over the sport. Which, in a sense, is fair enough. But, if this is the case, why not just replace the current four-division league system with a 28-week serial coin-toss? You get winners, losers, bragging rights, reasons to smash up train carriages etc, and for a fraction of the cost (2p, unless you wanted to insist on playing important games simultaneously in order to prevent one set of tossers – pardon me – having an unfair advantage).

I’m not trying to deride football; it just worries me that this result-obsessed culture can only have a bad influence on all our sports.

I’ve just switched off the radio after the close of play in Trinidad: the Windies scraped a draw in the final Test, and bagged the series 1-0. What a finish. I mean – what a finish.

But what I didn’t like about this series was the use of the umpiring referral system. Its failings have been pretty thoroughly picked over in the press over the last few days, but the specifics of the system don’t much interest me. What I’m interested in is the principle.

Borderline decisions – borderline wickets, borderline survivals – should be seen to be of borderline value. No bowler is going to recline in the clubhouse in the twilight of his career, thoughtfully swill his cognac in its balloon and murmur: “Remember that time Perkins was questionably given out to my speculative armball back in ’72?”. Results matter, and teams matter, but the game – the great achievements and great moments of the game – should surely be paramount. Cricket isn’t usually bad at this sort of thing. Record run-hauls on shirtfronts are given short shrift by the cognoscenti; eight-fers on sticky dogs likewise. Results are just another kind of statistic, and the statistic is brother to the damned lie.

The clincher is this: cricket, like rugby, has Tests – football has Meaningless Friendlies. Why are the Ashes so important? Because the Aussies are so damned good. Why, in contrast, is the Football World Cup important? Because we all want a big tin pot. If you win an important game in football you win a cup. Hooray. In cricket – give or take the odd token urn or sceptre – what you win, if you win, is a win; it’s about who you beat, and how you beat them, not about the bauble foisted on you by a blazered dignitary.

It used to be like that in football – think England-Scotland in ‘67, or England-Hungary in ‘53. Not any more.

This isn’t an aesthete’s call for football to be prettified, Wengerised, and turned into an easy-on-the-eye circus. Teams should play to win – I don’t mind if they have to be dour and defensive at times to do so. But players and managers should remember that football is more than just a way of deciding who ends up with the cup at the end of the season. Football as football, and not as an over-elaborate results generator, really matters.

So no more bloody football friendlies, I say. Let’s call them Tests. That’s what they ought to be, after all. Let’s remind the players that they’re professional sportsmen even when it isn’t a World Cup year. Let’s remind them that every minute of every game is a test of their skill, their strength, their bottle and – if I might offer a speculative explanation of the origin of the word ‘Test’ – their balls.

Let’s Hear It For The - Who? -- Zephirine

The England Cricket XI is ranked no 1 in the world.
The England Cricket XI includes the top-ranked batsman in the world.
The England Cricket XI includes the top-ranked bowler in the world.
The England Cricket XI has just retained the Ashes.
Last year the England Cricket XI beat the West Indies, South Africa and India.
Currently the England Cricket XI is playing in the World Cup in Australia, and has a good chance of winning.

All of the above are true.

Yep, it’s the Women’s XI.

Unlike their male counterparts, who are well-paid, well-publicised, expensively sponsored, and over the last few years have alternated being maddeningly inconsistent with being downright useless, the women are semi-professional or amateur, don’t get much sponsorship or media coverage, and over the last 18 months have become world-beaters.

You’re used to seeing the England men in adverts for Boss or expensive watches... here’s the top-ranked bowler in the world (female), Isa Guha, at her part-time job as a lab technician:

(picture by Christopher Lee from Cricinfo)

Now, all right, women’s cricket isn’t quite like men’s, they don’t play many Test matches for a start, they don’t bowl as fast or hit as hard. But the same is true in most sports. Women’s tennis gets plenty of press coverage. Perhaps the cricketers should play in short dresses and frilly knickers...

During the Olympics, we all got to know our Victoria Pendleton from our Rebecca Adlington. But apart from a very brief phase when the England captain Charlotte Edwards (ICC Women’s Player of the Year 2008) was in contention for BBC Sports Personality of the Year, we don’t hear much about the cricket players. Sports editors don’t bother to cover the competitions, even when England are winning.

But how many sports can you name in which the England team is the best in the world? Exactly.

So, UK Pseuds, keep an eye on the papers for those small paragraphs, and if – when – the girls win the World Cup Final on March 22nd, raise a cheer and maybe drink their health. Because they’re worth it.

Women’s World Cup fixture list: http://content.cricinfo.com/wwc2009/content/series/351827.html?template=schedule

What's England's problem - Ebren

It's a week off in the Six Nations championship, and time to reflect.

While there's plenty to write about Wales, Ireland, France Scotland and Italy, that's not what I'm going to do - instead I'm going to ask a question that's been on my mind for years now: "What's England's problem?"

Why am I asking this now? Well, put simply it's because all of a sudden the question has become a lot harder to answer.

As the wonderful 2003 team/machine broke apart, England were always going to struggle. We had this lunatic notion at the time that so blessed were the Red Roses the England 'B' team could take on and win against any side in Europe and give a good showing against the Tri-Nation powerhouses. We were wrong, very, very wrong.

But that lack of players no longer applies.

Not since the days of Bracken and Dawson have we had two scrum halves of international quality fighting for a starting shirt - gone are the has beens and almost men that have tried to link play between forwards and backs. Ellis and Care are actually good - I was as surprised as anyone.

Cueto, Sackey and Armitage are players of genuine pace and quality - with classical outside breaks in their locker to make the purist's heart sing. Tindal my be a brute, but he has more international pedigree than his girlfriend's mount (if a little less pace and good looks). Flutey offers trickery and experience - and a player of such rare ability as Tait is left on the bench.

Fly Half is a problem, Flood and Goode are adequate, but neither really convinces me as an international player. The feeling persists that a fit Wilkinson (or even Hodgeson) would walk into the role, but the stronger feeling is that Cipriani is missing out. He might be raw, but he will stay that way unless given game time. Playing a defensive fly half - no matter how much he looks like Phillip Glennister and how happy that makes me - at home against Italy is criminal.

The back row may lack a Williams or a Harinordoquy, but it's the strongest we've had since the Back-Dallaglio-Hill triumvirate. Easter, Haskell and Worsley offer muscle, energy and really effective defence - which is their job.

The second rows lack genuine world class, but is good enough, Vickery and Sheridan at 3 and 1 are impressive and Mears the equal of many of the men who pulled on the No 2 shirt in the 'glory days'.

So - what we have is a good team, stacked with ability and with flashes of brilliance. But it's not good enough.

An unconvincing win against Italy, losses - no matter how close - to Wales and Ireland, and the worrying prospect of games against France and even Scotland to come.

Which brings me back to my original question: what's the problem?

Discipline is what the team is getting hammered for, but that's a red herring. Players do stupid things, they always have and always will, but they do them a lot more often when they're under pressure.

It's really rather hard to concede a penalty or be sin-binned when in possession of the ball and moving forward and penalties generally reflect the balance of play (defending teams just give more of them away - a point I made repeatedly when everyone was criticising England for winning courtesy of Jonny's left boot).

Our defence has been sound, Ireland and Wales are exciting, attacking teams - we smothered them, actually outscoring Wales two tries to one and restricting Ireland to a close-range smash.

So what are we lacking, what's the difference between a good team going close and a great one winning all the time?

Well, part of the difference is habit. The Wales or Ireland of a few seasons ago might not have had the savvy to close out those games. The England of a few seasons ago would have known how to win them. This is not a comment on players, more on the team mentality. But you don't change that mentality without winning a few games.

Part of what's missing is a kicker - we missed enough penalties to beat both Ireland and Wales - Woodward always maintained you should not set foot on an international pitch without a world-class kicker - but we can't conjure one our of thin air, so we will have to ignore that while hoping Johnson is making his available options practice a lot (Armitage for the long-term anyone?).

But I think it comes down to inspiration - that moment when you break a line, knock an opposing player off their feet, drop a goal.

Martin Johnson was strong, hard, unrelenting. He inspired by refusing to quit, ignoring risk of injury and pain, and driving forward. He never inspired with skill or controlled with intelligence. Wilkinson, Greenwood, Robinson - heck, even Austin Healy - were the ones that made things happen.

We need that vision back - in short we need Tait and Cipriani in the team. It might weaken the defence. Scratch that, it would weaken the defence. But as good as this defence is, without inspiration going forward or a kicker to convert possession and manage territory; defence is not going to win games. So we need players that put points on the board, not players that restrict our losses.

What's England's problem then? Simples - as Alexander the Meerkat might put it - we are trying not to lose rather than win.

Atrocity in Lahore - Mimitig

Geographically Lahore is many miles from these shores but the events of Tuesday 3 March have brought terrorism painfully close to home. The ex-Patriot Pakistani community in the UK and those born here of Pakistani origins are perhaps the most affected as they have immediate family to be concerned about – not that in most of the reporting I’ve heard and read over the last few days has any mention of them been made – but the sporting world and the cricket world in particular has been shaken to its roots. And will never be the same.

Sport in general has felt itself immune from attack. The belief that sport exists to bring people together and celebrate life is inherent in fans. We may indulge in “hating” the opposition, but very seldom does that mean actually wishing harm or bad fortune on any team.

Cricket especially so. Support for one’s own side is of course paramount, but fans are unanimous in appreciating the skills of opponents. A batsman making 50 or a century is applauded by all, as is a bowler getting a five-fer. When one’s side is beaten, the phrase universally used is “the best side won on the day”. Very rarely are excuses made for the losing side, and blaming the umpires for defeat is just not done.

This may be why an attack on cricket has become such a news monster. Former England captain, Michael Atherton writes in the Times and mentions how cricketers have accidentally been caught up in events of global terrorism, but on those occasions, no headlines involved the sportsmen.

Bronwen Maddox, also in the Times, notes the five most recent terror attacks in Pakistan, none of which, although more people died, attracted as many column inches and headlines as the latest attack.

So here is the horrible question that faces sport now: is it now a viable and worthwhile target for terrorism?

If what the terrorists want is publicity and a change in behaviour of the targets, then those behind the attack in Lahore must be feeling pretty smug already. The world has focussed on their activities and the international cricket community has said, fairly definitively, that they will no longer play in Pakistan.

The fact that the head of the Pakistan Cricket Board feels able to go on air and criticise comments made by match referee Chris Broad shows how defensive the authorities in Pakistan are, and also how much in denial. Sadly his remarks – that Broad is inaccurate in his reporting of events – also show that the authorities are concentrating less on where they have failed and more on what overseas media are reporting.

There is a serious suggestion, Giles Clarke head of the ECB, is said to be considering it, that Pakistan will come to England to play their international cricket. Peter Young of Cricket Australia has added his voice:

While many on these shores would welcome the addition of more international cricket being played in the UK – and the thought of Australia v Pakistan here is indeed exciting (and not just for fans, I wouldn’t mind betting that the ECB are rubbing their financial hands with glee at the thought of selling out Old Trafford and Headingley amongst other grounds) - one wonders what the price in security would be.

If sport is no longer immune from terrorist attacks, will it matter whether games are played on the Sub-Continent, in neutral territory such as Dubai or England – where we have already seen hideous and successful terrorism in London in 2005 (when the cricketers of Australia and England were playing a Test Match in Leeds).

A can of worms has been opened, an evil genie let out of the bottle.

Sport can never be the same again, not for those playing the games, those running the games and not for fans.

An age of innocence that we have basked in since Munich 1972 is over, my friends.

It’s gone.

The Fattest Footballer In The World: Can The Ogre Save River Plate? - Clack

30 minutes remaining, River Plate 1-0 down at Rosario Central on the 2nd weekend of the Argentine championship, and the signal is given to the man known as the Ogre to remove his large posterior from the bench, and commence warming up, or wobbling up rather. Cue loud cheers and collective donning of shrek masks from the 5000 traveling fans. The 24 year old with a figure more akin to a middle-aged ex pro turning out for a charity match is about to make his league debut for River.

“I’m a few kilos over the ideal”, he said before signing the week before, a slight under-statement, as demonstrated when he stripped off for his live medical; a torso that would make Neil Ruddock look like Stan Laurel if he stood beside him. Christian Fabbiani has always lacked shape, even when he was in-shape, but 6 months of inactivity due to a dispute over pay with former club Newell's Old Boys has converted muscle into yet more flab to the point where the Ogre must surely now be the fattest professional footballer in the world?

His on-off transfer from Newells to River Plate was the summer soap opera of Argentine soccer. Refusing to take part in pre-season training, the striker posed, Paul Ince-like, in the white and red shirt of River while still a Newells player. He explained that he had stood as a 10-year-old on he terraces of the club he wished to join, and how, in June 2008, while still a player at Cluj (with whom he won the Romanian league title), had been amongst the hundreds of River fans celebrating their 'closing' championship victory on the pitch. Instant kudos from the supporters; not only did their prospective new signing speak like one of their bare-topped 'barras' who fill one end of the Monumental stadium every home game, but he looked like one aswell, complete with beer belly...

There was just one snag for Fabbiani though. Debt-ridden River Plate couldn't afford to buy him. The economic recession has dictated the end of the usual sale of young players, or percentage stakes in young players, to European clubs, and therefore, no funds for new signings, no matter how badly they want to join.

Two weeks ago, on the eve of this year's 'closing' Championship, disillusion hung over the Monumental. The team had finished a humiliating bottom of the 'opening'* Championship that ran from last August to December, and just to rub salt in the wounds, everything was going smoothly at big city rivals, Boca Juniors, where legendary manager Carlos Bianchi was returning as technical director of the 'opening' champions to oversee a squad, containing the likes of Argentine internationals Riquelme, Palacios, Palermo and Battalliga, exactly the kind of characters and fan favourites, River lacked.

In two pre-season friendlies with Boca (the word friendly being used in the loosest possible sense here, as they were sell-out showpiece matches held in Mar Del Plata and Mendoza. part of a summer mini-tournament, screened live across the country), River's faceless players not only lost, but were comprehensively outplayed on both occasions.

Something had to be done to breathe new life into the stagnant River, and right on transfer deadline day, a delighted Fabbiani received the call he had been wishing for all summer, just as he was about to undergo, literally, a medical for Velez Sarsfield. The Ogre apologised to the Velez doctors and staff and asked to leave the clinic. "Well, if his heart wasn't in it,then it's better that he told us now than after 15 games", said a very understaning Velez manager and everything was arranged with River the same day..

Shrek fever began on the very day of his signing; children and adults turning up to Fabbiani's official presentation with their faces painted ogre green. One ex-River player, sitting in the canteen, remarked how it had taken him ten years to become a crowd favourite, but the new lad was already an idol without even playing a a game.

Again, Fabbiani said all the right things. "They won't kick Falcao anymore, now I'm alongside him", a reference to some tasty treatment the River Plate player had received from San Lorenzo players in the pre-season mini-tournament, part of a long running feud, although it is probably little Buononotte, 'the dwarf', who will probably benefit the most from having Fabbiani's physical presence. What more balanced attacking partnership could you ask for? The fattest player in the world alongside the shortest player in the world! However, the truth is that there is actually a lot more to Fabbiani's game than just putting his weight about. He has a lot of skill and an excellent finish.

Then, in one of those moments when football does imitate hollywood scripts, the shrek saga part 1 had a perfect happy ending. Just a few minutes after Fabbiani came on in the match at Rosario last sunday, River equalised through Martin Galmarini, nipping in with a header from a free kick while the defenders were all watching Fabbiani. Ten minutes later, the Ogre himself, 30 metres out and with no run up, lashed the ball into the back of the net to score the winning goal. Out came the shrek masks again, the commentators and fans went into a frenzy, and Fabbiani collapsed flat on his back, Charlie George style.

Fabbiani's goal here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GpyWNfHTJBQ

Fatso' and 'Monster', were the headlines the next day (the latter a play on words, eg. Gardel is a 'monster' of the Tango.) Comparisons with Ference Puskas and the Brazilian Ronaldo were naturally drawn, one newspaper putting together a list of the fattest players of all-time, placing Fabbiani at the top, and a psychologist wrote about how Fabbiani gave hope to all weight-challenged kids.

"A lot of kilos and a lot heart", said Clarin, and just to round off a perfect weekend for River fans, rivals Boca lost 2-0 at home to Newells. Contrary to what Tina Turner sang at her concert in the club's Monumental stadium, River Plate do need another hero. The Ogre could be just the job.

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*Since 1992, the Argentina Primera league (1st Division) has been divided into two championships: The apertura (opening) which runs from August to December, and Clausura (closing) which runs from February to June, with seperate winners for each tournament. The 20 teams play one another once in each tournament. A return to a one-season championship has been recently suggested by AFA president Julio Grondona, but the majority of the 1st Division clubs are unlikely to vote for a change as the current format gives more clubs a chance of winning, or at least challenging for the Championship. Relegation is decided by a complicated system of point averages over the previous three seasons.

Two down Three to go – Mimitig

I’m not known in these parts for writing about Rugby, but it’s that time of year.

It’s Six Nations time, and for the first time in my grown-up years Wales are not only the defending champions, but favourites to retain the crown.

This means that the Welsh blood in my veins stirs, and makes me do things like search out this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pBY4PMk39QM&feature=related

And so we are singing Hymns and Arias … as the English came to Cardiff to do what Edward Hammer of the Scots and Bloody Bastard Castle Builder of Wales did to us. They wore their red rose with pride and they put Mike Tindall into the side. To do what the Royals have done to the Welsh for eight centuries.

So what a joy when the Royal connection was sin-binned! As if all the ancient reasons for hating the English were laid out on a lovely green Millenium Stadium tranche of grass. In that moment I knew we would win. Of course it wasn’t that simple, it never is.

Wales make their supporters suffer. At half time, we had a scant one point lead after Goode had dropped a goal for England. And Sackey had gone over the line.

England seemed to have learned the lessons from a poor victory over Italy last week. They had studied the tapes and they knew which Welshman to smother. They made sure Andy Powell had no space to work in. But Stephen Jones had regained his touch and kicked far better than he had at Murrayfield. He did the business and Wales started to draw clear.

Then England lost Goode to typical indiscipline – sin-binned and the Welsh pair of Byrne and Halfpenny showed just what free-flowing Welsh rugby is all about. England proved tough and made us feel sick for about ten minutes, thinking maybe we hadn’t done enough. But the crowd sang again:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w3pf1HORL_c&feature=related

There is nothing, nothing like the stadium filled with Welsh voices singing. When the team are winning, we are untouchable. We are the conquerors of the world and so happy. I think that we are happier when we win than any England fan can dream of. We expect to lose. Our songs are all about being vanquished, and we expect that.

So our glory in victory is very humble. We didn’t expect it, we don’t expect to win next time, but we are Champions and we play very very good rugby.

I am so proud to be Welsh. I am always Welsh, obviously, but at Six Nations time, one declares nationality in a unique way – it’s different from football because we have no Home Nations, so this is the sport that declares your interest.

I don’t know if we’ll manage to defend the title – France and Ireland are looking very strong, but we’ve won the big grudge match, again and England leave Cardiff, licking their wounds.

I was going to end with a clip of the Welsh nation singing their hearts out, but this is far more appropriate:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WzjyO7DJ1n0&feature=related

Where's Chelsea's money going? - Ebren

Chelsea are in debt. Fans of other clubs have seen this as either an excuse for losing to them, or a source of mirth if they don't win.

They’ve been losing money hand over fist since Roman Abramovic began his quest to make his personal plaything the best club in the world. This "pimp my club" experiment he has lost £140 million (2005), £74.8 million (2007) and £66 million (2008) - the losses from the other years are harder to track down, but no doubt significant. In total, the market trader turned oligarch has now committed £710 million to south-west London.

And this is great.

It's great because everyone can tut and say he's ruining football. It's great because we get to see some of the finest players and managers in the world either excelling or humbled in our league. Every manager [bar Mark Hughes] can shrug and say: "Well, how can you compete with that." Or if they win or draw, rejoice that they have beaten the odds.

But, and here's where it gets interesting, where the hell has that cash gone?

The most recent accounts show Chelsea made £213.1 million in the 2007/08 season. They spent £148 million of this on wages. And another £23.1 million on compensation for Grant, Mourinho and all their support staff.

That summer they spent £13.5 million on Florent Malouda, £1.3 million on Jacob Mellis, and £5 million on Julian Belletti. They sold Arjen Robben for £24 million - and Glenn Johnson and Lassana Diarra for undisclosed fees. £19.8 million in buys and at very least £24 million in sales.

That January they bought Franco Di Santo for £3.4 million, Branislav Ivanovic for £9 million and Nicolas Anelka for £15 million. They didn't sell anyone.

So that's a maximum transfer loss of £23.2 (not counting Johnson and Diarra). Assuming they cost about £5 million each, let's say £13.2 million.

So the maths is simple: £213.1 - £148 - £13.2 - £23.1 = £28.8 million. Or £18.8 million if you assume Johnson and Diarra went for nothing.

Which begs the question: where on earth did the other £84.8 million go?

To put that in context - it's more than Chelsea's gate receipts for the entire season. It's more than the total TV revenue from their run to the Champions League final, the new - enhanced - Premier League TV package, and their TV cash from their domestic cup runs combined. More than all their sponsorship deals and shirt sales as well.

Hell, it's more than the entire revenue that is brought in by the 20th highest-earning club on the planet according to Deliotte. More than 14 other clubs in the Premier League make in a year.

Chelsea do not have to service any debts (all their loans are provided interest-free by their owner). Their wages are comfortably covered. They aren't spending much in the transfer windows (since 2004/05 they have generally not spent much at all overall, with sales wiping out almost all the price of the purchases). Their other costs can't be that much more than the other Premier League clubs. But the amount they are losing dwarfs all this.

What we have in Chelsea then, is a club that is palpably living within its means. One that is not splashing more money than it can afford on either transfers or wages.

One that does rather seem prone to signing coaches on costly long-term deals then sacking them, but then, if they last a season with no compensation payments (the season before they had to hand £12 million to Manchester United in compensation for Mikel, and there will be an estimated £7 million going to Scolari), we are talking about a club making £52 million after wages and player purchases are accounted for.

So I have come to the only conclusion I can - the other £84 million has been spent on building a deep, underground bunker beneath Stamford Bridge. An entirely self-sufficient world - linked to the Cobham training base by a subterranean mag-lev train - to enable Peter Kenyon to conduct the club's business without ever being exposed to sunlight.

The Indian Premier League 2009 Auction - Mimitig

Last year a new cricket competition was launched. The Indian Premier League.

Over the past few weeks, more than England’s chances in the West Indies, the cricket-watchers have been chattering, or maybe even “tweating” about this year’s IPL Auction – which took place in the wee small hours of the 5th Feb (UK time). You may wonder why. Well the main reason has been because of the enormous amount of money that this competition involves and that this year England players were up for bids.

For those who are interested in the ins and outs of what the IPL is, go to this link:

http://content-uk.cricinfo.com/ipl/content/story/337868.html

and those clever bods at cricinfo will give you loads of details.

For those who like a broad picture approach, suffice to say that this is Twenty20 cricket paying loads of dosh to buy top international cricketers and get loads of publicity.

Last year the England and Wales Cricket Board stood somewhat aloof from this, as they saw it, commercial upstart – not least because they were rather late coming to the party and couldn’t get their act together to work out if it was OK to let some boys off the leash to lash the ball for dosh.

This year they clambered clumsily on board, having realised that the IPL is here to stay and if they didn’t come to a deal with England international and county players then all hell could break loose.

With just days to go before The Auction, the ECB, Counties, PCA and indeed players, found themselves in a bizarre public debate about whether 10% of an IPL “bought” player’s price was a fair whack for the Counties to get. All rather unseemly – being played out in the media before a single player had even been “bought”. Some commentators felt that a player getting the chance to earn, say one million US dollars for three weeks’ work shouldn’t blanch at losing 10% to their county – the county that had nurtured them and given them their first professional break. Others felt differently.

I was just confused by the figures as it seemed clear to me that any England player ending up in the IPL would only be able to play part of the season and his fee, therefore would be pro-ratered and so the sums bandied around in the media were smoke and mirrors anyway.

So we come to this year’s Auction. It couldn’t be quite the same as last year’s total free-for-all, as the contracts cricketers sign are for two years, and so this time not all franchises had deep pockets and loads of places to fill. This time the eight franchises (or as we would normally say, Teams) had 17 places to fill and a shortlist of 50 players.

All talk (twitter – see above) in these parts was who would bid for Andrew Flintoff, Kevin Pietersen and maybe Owais Shah. Nobody thought much of the chances of Paul Collingwood, Ravi Bopara, Samit Patel and Luke Wright. Sadly in the case of the last two mentioned, nobody much was interested.

Fred and KP went for over a million squids to Chennai and Bangalore respectively – though both were in bidding wars – Fred attracting bids from both the Punjabi Indians and Shane Warne’s Rajhastan Royals (last year’s winners).

Ravi, Owais and Paul were also snapped up – for somewhat smaller sums, but still amounts in excess of their county or central contracts and all three can not only be pleased for their bank balances, but it’ll do their confidence one hell of a boost when they consider those who were left on the shelf.

Aussies Stuart Clarke and Brad Haddin – for instance. Left to fight out for the remaining three places with 33 names up for them. It seems the cricket world changes faster than one might have believed possible. Two Englishmen are also in competition for these last slots – Luke Wright and Samit Patel – both who might justifiably feel miffed at losing out in the first round.

However, this is where we are now and all details can be found here:

http://www.iplt20.com/home.html

I’m left to sum up not only my thoughts on the IPL but to wonder at some of the hypocrisy and cant being spouted by some of the Tabloids’ finest.

First my thoughts: I totally understand sportsmen (or women) who seize an opportunity to bank a few bucks. Their careers are mostly short-lived and in their years of success they give us fans an immeasurable amount of pleasure (and pain) but great entertainment. I also have no problem with incredibly rich people – Vijay Mallya and Shilpa Shetty buying into IPL teams with the money they have earned with their skills. They should not be castigated for investing in a sport they care for – no matter what their motives are, personal, business, self-aggrandisement – don’t care, they are putting money into a sport that THEIR country holds in almost as much regard as a religion.

Then the “MEDJA” – well, most reporters can’t be bothered to get their facts right. All the headline reports of “Million pound cricketers” – go and get the details. Read the small print. Neither KP or Fred are earning anything like a million squidders. Sure they’ll bank a mighty wedge, but for a certain Scottish writer in The Sun to take the moral high ground is the one thing over this whole farrago that really got my goat.

Bill Leckie – for the love of all things decent. A man who writes, slaveringly, about football – where weekly salaries outweigh anything even vaguely decent, and a man who writes a so-called “news page” all about Big Brother and such. It beggars belief to hear him complain that the amounts changing hands in the IPL are “obscene in these times of global recession”. Fortunately for my little transistor radio, I was in the car when I heard this nauseating hypocrisy. If I’d been at home the dear little pink square radio would have been hurled out into the sleet and sludge.

Now the razzmatazz is over for the year. England still have a job to do in the West Indies and whether Flintoff, Pieterson and Collingwood have had their heads turned by being publicly valued in actual monetary terms will affect their performances on the park we have yet to see.

Confident with the players’ integrity I am sure that it will make no difference. Fred will bowl his little pink heart out. KP will bat with a debonair insouciance that is the envy of all those less talented, and Colly will leap like a salmon for impossible catches.

Those who have been bought by the IPL will go and play on the Sub-Continent, some with success, some with humiliation, but they will earn their wages and they will learn from playing with top-notch Twenty20 proponents of the game. They will become stronger and better and this will benefit their counties and England.

It’s a good thing and only a fool would descry it as simply money.

A Report from Our Cricket Correspondent by Beyond the Pale

(With brief explanatory note re. the provenance of the document)

Richard Wilson: The Cock Tavern (Tate Gallery)

(Ed. note: As rosy-fingered dawn inveigled her roseate dactyls into the shadows still enclosing the pleasant village of Quatt in gentle slumber, a vague form gradually began to take shape upon the quiet lawn before the Cock Tavern: a crumpled, prostrate and inert body, its limbs splayed in awkward disarray, its head tilted oddly to one side as if improperly attached, its several eyes impressed with strange ancient coins--one to each of the three--upon which infinitely small hieroglyphic characters were seen to have been inscribed. A party of local investigators, led by Prof. Greengrass of the Univ. of Stockholm (emeritus head of the Department of Cuneiform Studies), removed these unusual coins and subjected them to scholarly analysis. Upon one of them was discovered and decoded the micro-inscription of the remarkable essay to be found below. Upon the second was found the tiny image of a profile head, thought to be that of Ricky Ponting. Upon the third, the coded text of a most extraordinary confession of human error, beginning: "Margin, over recent days the stab of compunction has deeply penetrated my ancient heart and pervaded it with a state of profound misericordia. Should in later times my remains be found, and this coin inscription along with them, all the world may at last plainly know: I have wronged you, good sir, and must now end my days by uttering these abject last words: I am deeply sorry, I have erred and must now accept the mortal consequence of my misdeed. I shall therefore now imbibe a potion of hemlock-laced cider and lay myself down here in this shady place forever, seeking whatever solace may be found beyond the troubled knowledge that my days ended with the commission of a Grave Crime, for which, I know, apology is required even as I also know forgiveness neither can nor should be granted. Signed, Beyond the Pale." )

As the league reached its climax on the final Saturday of the season, the teams at the bottom of the table played each other. Quatt went into the match bottom of the table with Madeley just above them and knew that a win was the only result possible to guarantee they could lift themselves away from the foot of the table. Twenty-six consecutive years in that lowly station was a total many found difficult to bear. Others counselled courage, recalling the famous victories of the past (though mean-spirited questions have lingered concerning the possible memory impairment of some of our senior members).

Having won the toss the home side decided to take the game to Madeley and batted first. On a lush and damp outfield boundaries were going to be even more difficult to come by than usual. But the reassuring sounds of leather on willow, the applause, the calls for out, all served to calm the nerves of the tense populace.

Beyond the fence--extended, with a net added for the safety of spectators, by community-minded members of the Club--a throng of at least sixty local citizens paused with baited breath awaiting the fated outcome. Bravery in the hearts of all, and a squirt of cream in the tea thermos, our trusty milkman having made his way especially early from Wolverhampton to fortify us for the test.

At that perilous point in the proceedings a naked young woman was seen to rush upon the pitch singing out happily in what sounded to all of us like that strange barbaric language the frightful Norse invaders employed when they barged our grounds some while back. Older members of the club, remembering, began to quaver and list dangerously toward the dampened turf.

Events took a happy turn however when a proud native son, the emeritus historian Professor Greengrass of the University of Stockholm, pince-nez dangling into his disturbed chinwhiskers what with the excitement of it all, emerged unexpectedly from the surrounding bush and began to thrash the unclad intruder quite smartly with his cane.

The rude pitch-invader was seen to exit sharpish, laughing wildly and uttering curious high-pitched cries later interpreted to us by the heroic professor--himself an accomplished linguist--as signifying "More, more!"

Seemingly inspired by the untoward events, openers Paul Chadworth (34) and Mal Chiddick-Wibble (15) got the home side off to a solid start notching up 42 in the first 10 overs before Chiddick-Wibble was bowled. With Paul Twittenham and Nigel Ballsworthy both going cheaply, Quatt had a wobble at 49 for 3 before Stephen Thong-Jones came to the crease and he and Chadworth put on 60 before Chadworth was caught running off into the woods grasping at willow branches, seemingly in hopes of securing a firm switch with which to punish the unmannerly female should she be bold enough to dare a return.

With all eyes now divided between the pitch and the copse from which another dangerous intrusion seemed liable to issue at any time, Drivel took advantage of the youthful visitors' distraction to knock up a seasons best 70 not out, including 10 fours, and with Trevor Beaver-Eagersley (25) put on another 49 and then with Graham Hedgebets (9) another 23. Members of the Quatt Ladies Cricket Support Group moved among the crowd with tissues, mopping many an anxious-fevered brow. Calls went out for a supplementary supply of tissues. But in evidence of the fortitude of all, the match went boldly on.

Quatt finished with an impressive highest ever total of 202 off their 40 overs. Credit must go to the visitors for putting out a young and inexperienced team and for giving them all an opportunity to bowl. The temporary suspension of good manners was now being overlooked if not indeed quite forgotten, though brief flicks of glances beyond the greensward indicated the earlier fears of further unsporting conduct had not entirely subsided.

Opening for the visitors, Blunden-Pease and Crock-Offit looked dangerous as they put on a quickfire 45 before Pishley Smarm had Blunden-Pease trapped lbw for 22. Smarm finished with seasons best figures of 3 for 11 off 5 overs. A gentle breeze stirring the drooping appendages of the willows brought an occasional glimpse of what appeared to many pale and tender flesh, while these qualms were assuaged by others who opined the apparition to be merely heat-induced hallucination.

When Blunden-Pease was caught by Ben Densmore off the bowling of Drivel in the 14 over with just 52 on the board it looked all over for Madeley. With only Percy Kneckshaw providing any resistance, knocking up 12, the young visitors capitulated as wickets fell to Norman Egglesworth (2), Peter Drubbingham and Stephen Bingely-Fitts, Madeley were eventually all out in the 31 over for 78. An ominous rumbling in the sky suggested the thunder gods may have been looking on all along, and were perhaps not entirely pleased. But our local men, now heartened by a great resolve, and showing impressive bulges in virtually every pocket, labored on to complete the great work so nobly begun.

Quatt took all 23 points to ensure that they wouldn't finish bottom of the table. As the long day closed, members of the club formed exploratory parties to forage the woods for signs of the vanished intruder from the north, uttering strong expletives indicating their noble intent to deal with further misconduct in firm Quattian fashion.

The reputation of the Club and the spirits of the village now restored, all adjourned to the Sombre Arms, Professor Greengrass at the forefront, to quaff a victorious flagon. It had been a day etched into the annals forever.

Scott’s miscellany - Ringo37

The helmets-for-goalposts kickarounds of Der Kleine Frieden – the ‘little peace’ that broke out along the Western Front on Christmas Day 1914 – have been well-documented, and represent perhaps the best-known examples of sport played in the greatest extremity. Less celebrated, though, is a game – or, rather, a series of games – that took place in an even less hospitable environment three years earlier. These games were conducted at -20°C, in winds of up to 30mph; to glance at the opposing line-ups gives a fresh meaning to the term ‘journeymen footballers’. These were the games played by the crew of the Terra Nova at Cape Evans, Antarctica, in the autumn of 1911: wearing the skipper’s armband for one side was Captain Robert Falcon Scott.

The members of Scott’s ill-fated last expedition were keen to take exercise whenever they could, and football was a popular pastime. To picture these men hoofing the ball around the ice-sheets is to conjure an image familiar from Sunday morning park pitches, complete with the usual personnel: the enforcer (hard-as-nails Irish seaman Tom Crean bore a passing resemblance to late-period Roy Keane), the ringer (skiing ace Tryggve Gran had played for the Norwegian international side) and the quavering rookie (young Russian pony-groom Anton Omelchenko had never even seen a football before arriving at Cape Evans).

But there is surely more to our appreciation of these knockabouts on the edge of hell than home-from-home sentimentality. The story of the Terra Nova expedition is a story of heroes, and, particularly, of an ensemble heroism that will be fondly familiar to the British sports fan.

British sporting culture has had its individuals, of course, from Shackleton to Boycott, from ’Enry to Henman, but precious few of these have won over the British public as completely as have the country’s greatest sporting teams. Why? Is it simply that these ensembles – the thirteen of Sydney 2003, say, or Ramsey’s 1966 eleven – offer something for everyone (allergic to Botham? Try a Brearley...)?

I prefer to think, instead, that we appreciate these motley crews not because they have something to offer everyone, but because every one of them has something to offer. This may be why, for instance, the identikit beanpoles of basketball – or, for that matter, what Nick Hornby has called the ‘interchangeable physiques’ of our present-day Premiership ‘elite’ – fail to entirely charm the majority of British sports fans; why we’re more comfortable throwing in our lots with the ill-assorted likes of a European Ryder Cup outfit or a medley of touring Baa-baa mavericks.

This affection for the ragtag mob, with all its varieties of appearance, class, age, race and size, can certainly be found in the Antarctic histories. It can be found, too, in the clichés of the sports pages, and at any number of points in between, from the Beano’s Bash Street Kids to The Great Escape. Sports fans have a tendency to succumb easily, it’s true, to the cult of the individual, the icon, The Greatest, The Special One. But surely our enthusiasm for the team ­­– the place where even an oddball can find an oddball-shaped hole – says more about the importance of individuality than such hero-worship ever could.

Winter Sports 2 - Beyond the Pale

English Premiere League: Greatest Moments 2008 by Beyond the Pale--A Video Review

Scoring While Immortal

Cristiano Ronaldo (Man Utd) vs. Portsmouth 1.30.08
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=E-DjTdND53o

Cristiano Ronaldo (Man Utd) vs. Bolton 3.19.08
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=TOHPjpeDb9o&feature=related

_____

Scoring From the Next County/ Over The Rainbow/ Another Dimension

Juliano Belletti (Chelsea) vs. Tottenham 1.12.08
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=-lTsCOZfbQg&feature=related

Kieran Richardson (Sunderland) vs. Newcastle 10.25.08
http://www.101greatgoals.com/videodisplay/1699569/

Geovanni (Hull City) vs. Tottenham 10.5.08
http://www.101greatgoals.com/videodisplay/1634465/

Matthew Taylor (Bolton) vs. West Ham 10.05.08
http://www.101greatgoals.com/videodisplay/1631545/

Jose Bosingwa (Chelsea) vs. West Brom 11.15.08
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=Wli7Cz4A1OY&feature=related

_____

Scoring Like A Windmill (The Long And The Short Of It)

Peter Crouch (Portsmouth) vs. Stoke City 10.5.08
http://www.101greatgoals.com/videodisplay/1632080/

Deco (Chelsea) vs. Bolton 12.06.08
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=EggJeeAYoRU&feature=related

_____

Scoring On The Tilt

Kevin Nolan (Bolton) vs. Blackburn 1.15.08
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=N40wuZK6Et0&feature=PlayList&p=C14778CAA1B465BD&index=12

_____

Scoring With Chips

Frank Lampard (Chelsea) vs. Hull City 10.29.08
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=pu1QEkeNg18

Steed Malbranque (Sunderland) vs. Hull City 12.20.08
http://www.101greatgoals.com/videodisplay/1883884/

_____

Scoring With Chips To Silence the Gunners

Robinho (Man City) vs. Arsenal 11.22.08
http://www.101greatgoals.com/videodisplay/1788291/

_____

Scoring a Shocking Belter To Silence The Gunners

Rafael da Silva (Man Utd) vs Arsenal 11.08.08
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=Y11hmA6Lt5A&feature=related
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=LZ0zA-Mq3Lo&feature=related
http://www.101greatgoals.com/videodisplay/1744304/

_____

Scoring From The Spot Where Your Old Dad's Ashes Are Buried To Silence The Gunners

Grant Leadbitter (Sunderland) vs. Arsenal 10.04.08
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=tfqTvTHGA8U&feature=related

_____

Scoring From the Next County/ Over The Rainbow/ Another Dimension To Silence The Gunners

David Bentley (Tottenham) vs. Arsenal 10.29.08 (
http://www.metacafe.com/watch/1941068/david_bentley_goal_for_tottenham_vs_arsenal_on_29_10_08/

_____

Scoring From The Next County/ Over The Rainbow/ Another Dimension/ In Computer Animation To Silence The Gunners

Geovanni (Hull City) vs. Arsenal 9.27.08
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=r6z3dPgIYR4

_____

Scoring Without Feet To Silence The Gunners

Ricardo Fuller (Stoke City) vs. Arsenal 11.01.08 (from Rory Delap long throw: 1-0)
http://www.101greatgoals.com/videodisplay/1723071/

Seyi Olofinjana (Stoke City) vs. Arsenal 11.01.08 (from Rory Delap long throw: 2-0)
http://www.101greatgoals.com/videodisplay/1723070/

_____

Scoring Without Feet: A Questionable Example for Youth: Pseudo-Delap Mini-Catastrophe


http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=UxcugR4jdXI&feature=related
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=2ldlAI3bUTU

_____


Scoring With Feet (Because You Can)

Cristiano Ronaldo--from Dimitar Berbatov (Man Utd) vs. West Ham 10.29.08
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=xxJ9wdXXbwY&feature=related

_____


"Even A Heel Has Got To Score Sometimes" (D. Hammett)

Cristiano Ronaldo (Man Utd) vs. Aston Villa 3.29.08
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=6tHODaDwRHs

Felipe Caicedo (Man City) vs. West Brom 12.21.08
http://www.101greatgoals.com/videodisplay/1876055/

_____


Scoring With Hair (Ah, But Whose Hair?)

Stephen Ireland (Man City) vs. Fulham 4/26/08
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=Szv5zzZd2Gc&feature=related

_____


Scoring Without Hair (But With A Mysteriously Revenant Grandmother)

Stephen Ireland (Man City) vs. Liverpool 10/05/08
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=vVF058Ze2es&feature=related

________________________

Margin - Laaa Laaa La La La La La Laaa...

Margin – Laaa Laaa La La La La La Laaa….

We’ve seen a couple of righteous articles on Pseud’s Corner recently following Kanoute’s t-shirt incident. And while I have replied to them in comments, I thought it might be time as some one paid to write about politics to opine on this matter in full.

So let me start with a question or three for Mr Kanoute.

Why stay silent while Israel showed months of restraint under fire from Gaza as the world’s press turned a blind eye to the deaths of innocent Jews?

Why stay silent while those Gazans overwhelmingly elected as leaders a terrorist organisation committed to the eradication of Jews in the Middle East?

Why stay silent while Fatah worked hard to re-establish trust and dialogue with Israel so as to further the aim of creating a Palestinian State, against the will and violent efforts of Hamas in Gaza?

I ask these questions because the responses are self evident.

And most important among the likely responses is that we don’t know that stayed silent at all.

Taking my first question, he might have jubilantly declared in private that the only good Jew was a dead Jew. Or he might have expressed despair at the sins of his fellow Muslims and the damage they were doing to the cause of a Palestinian state while assuring their own eternal damnation by committing murder.

What he did or didn’t declare we don’t know. He never told us. And why should he? He is not a politician or a journalist or a philosopher. Or at least not one of any public interest. He is just a private citizen. And like all private citizens we leave him to his views and make little judgement of the degree of his bias and extent of his knowledge.

But by using the publicity machine that chance has provided, he somewhat loses that right does he not?

I commented on other articles here about this matter and was quickly challenged on my views by personal investigation (for example, what did I think about Spurs fans being homophobic, and so on).

And that is just and right. I expressed a view, and in challenging me on that view my motives and by biases are fair game.

So, I want to know if Kanoute is anti-semitic. I want to know if he backs Fatah’s efforts to establish peace in the Middle East. I want to know if he supports Hamas’ shelling of innocent children.

And I want to know these things because he tried to make his politics, which might for all I know be abhorrent, my business.

But of course there is no place for such a debate on a football field. I’m not even permitted to cross the white line onto the playing surface and engage in a civil conversation with him.

So here is my prejudice.

My questions were the questions of some one who has been touched in his life time by terrorism. They were the questions of some one who has long supported peaceful efforts to gain long overdue justice for Palestinians. And they were the questions of some one who despairs at the self righteous pomp on display among those who protest against Israel but didn’t speak up two months ago while Hamas was killing Jews.

And that is what politics is about. It isn’t a field of right and wrong answers. It is a place for divergent and conflicting opinions based on variable perspectives and priorities. It is a place where views come together because different people see the world differently. Not rightly or wrongly. Just different.

But of course Freedom of Speech and Freedom of Expression go far beyond the Middle East.

In the House of Commons it would be perfectly legal for any member to stand up and declare that ethnic minorities need to be removed from the UK to protect the biological distinctiveness of the indigenous population.

On Speakers Corner in Hyde Park anyone can stand and argue that homosexuality is a sin and should be banned for the moral protection of our own population.

And so to Spurs.

This weekend Spurs played Portsmouth, and it is one of those rare matches where Spurs fans turn their attentions away from hating Spurs players, and towards hating an opponent.

Sol Campbell is to Spurs fans the ultimate example of everything that is wrong with modern football. He showed no loyalty to his club when he left to join their rivals. No honesty when he signed a contract with that club while telling his existing club he would never do so. And he showed no integrity when turning out in an FA Cup Semi final against the team he had already signed for, and playing a part in their success that day.

So Campbell is hated not for his alleged homosexuality, but for his football. However, that has repeatedly turned into homosexual insult, along with the general referencing of him as Judas who so far as I know was not gay either.

The club were clear that homophobic abuse would be punished, the police boosted camera numbers, and the fans responded by not singing Sol Sol wherever you may be… but instead performing the song as “Laaa Laaa La La La La La Laaa….”

And so to hypocrisy.

I fundamentally believe racist and homophobic abuse should be kept out of football. The football authorities agree.

I fundamentally believe fans of any sexuality, nationality, race or religion should be able to enjoy football without facing the sort of offence one can generally expect not to face in daily life. The football authorities agree.

And I fundamentally feel that because football thus can’t be an open policy forum, politics must be kept out of the game. The football authorities agree.

So I call now on one person who backs free expression for the campaign for a Palestinian State, to be consistent.

I call on one such person to say they would equally back a footballer displaying a swastika.

I call on one such person to say they would equally back a footballer displaying “Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.”

And most of all, I call on one such person to say they think that fans should be able to sing at any match they like the words “Sol, Sol, wherever you may be - Not long now till lunacy – don’t give a ^%$£ if you’re hanging from a tree – you Judas £$%^ with HIV”

Because that would be consistent.

Mark!!! Leave him! He’s not worth it!!! - mountainstriker

I must admit that this is really - no I mean REALLY starting to annoy me now. Manchester City have apparently bid 100 million Euros to secure the services of AC Milan’s Brazilian star Kaka. ‘He’s not worth it!’’ screams Alan Shearer, frantically juggling a kebab in one hand while pulling his mini skirt an inch further south in a valiant, but ultimately doomed, effort to retain his modesty with the other. ‘No-one, NO-ONE, deserves to earn £100m a year for kicking a chuffin' ball about the place.’ wheezes the BBC’s red faced resident blogger Robbo Robson - his article merely inciting angry mobs to desert their local churches and storm branches of Homebase across the nation:

‘I for one will definitely lose faith in football, these people already earn ridiculous amounts of money. This is the final nail in the coffin.’

‘…a loss of faith and the final nail in the coffin should this happen...’

‘My faith in humanity would be severely slashed’

Of course that’s assuming they have the strength – this is actually making us collectively ill…

‘I'm already sick of the dosh being splurged on footy’

‘Disgusting money’

‘This is all causing me to have a bit of a crisis of conscience about football in general. £500kp/w does actually make me feel slightly physically sick.’

For once the UK press and its blogging community seem to be at one. Kaka is a) a jolly good player and what my Mum would describe as an absolutely lovely boy b) not worth 91 million quid.

This is just mass stupidity. Reaching for my dog eared CSE economics text book I see that Manchester City may pay AC Milan £91 million for Kaka’s services because:

a) City want Kaka to play for them
b) AC Milan won’t sell him for less than £91 million
c) Manchester City can raise £91 million in the necessary timeframe
d) AC Milan are prepared accept the offer and sell

Change any one of a-d and the deal’s off.. This is no more a matter of faith, conscience, or morality than my visit to Tesco last week. In a market in which high quality goods are scarce, demand is high and cash is plentiful, prices go up. If you keep pumping in cash while retaining the same (or a greater) level of demand without raising supply, prices will keep going up until you either make the deal, run out of cash or lose interest. When low quality goods are plentiful and cash is scarce prices go down - which is why the entire squad of my Sunday League pub team would collectively raise less than a packet of custard creams (Any offers? No, seriously. Two Gardibadis and a choccy Hob Nob and I’ll throw in the Under 10s too..).

In the last 20 years, football has attracted huge levels of investment, increasingly from overseas, and most noticeably the Russian and now the Middle Eastern energy sectors. These industries deal in billions where previous investors, often the local business magnate, would deal in thousands or occasionally millions. On the other hand the number of trophies to be won and the number of high quality players capable of winning them has remained pretty constant. Throw in a bit of inflation and the numbers become utterly irrelevant. I wouldn’t argue that Kaka is probably 91 times better than Trevor Francis, but is he six times better than Alan Shearer, 93 time better than Johan Cryuff or 180 times better than Kenny Dalglish?

I know this is a lost cause. For some reason economics is generally thought not to apply to football – a fact that became clear to me during David Mellor’s baleful years at the helm of 606. Here was a former Minister in a Government notionally committed to free market economics repeatedly arguing that the number of overseas players should be limited for the protection of the English game. Not once did he consider that the reason for the rise in overseas players was that British players were underskilled in comparison with their overseas competitors and therefore overpriced. Robert Peel who?

The fact that a top footballer earns around 1500 times more than a senior nurse is a question of societal priorities as reflected by our spending choices. If we honestly value nurses more than footballers, are we prepared to forego our season tickets and Sky dishes to alter their respective markets accordingly? Moreover, are we be prepared, indeed are we able, to move our spending away from industries that choose to invest their billions football rather than healthcare? I don’t think so – so , please can we all just get a grip?

Winter Sports 1.5: History and Football Part II - Beyond the Pale

Show of support: Liverpool will have to answer questions from the FA after an orchestrated display to back Michael Shields, a fan convicted of attempted murder Photo: GETTY IMAGES.
(Photo from The Telegraph)

Football and history, suggests Pseuds' Corner regular Greengrass, have always been "inextricably intermingled".

Pseuds' regulars Mac Millings and Margin have raised questions regarding the appropriateness of Frederic Kanoute's display of a "Palestina" t-shirt after scoring for Sevilla in a Copa del Rey match on 01/07/09.

Looking back a bit, we see that Kanoute is far from the first footballer to use a t-shirt as a statement.

Who can forget that following Brazil's victory in the 2002 World Cup final, four Brazilian players were seen displaying t-shirts proclaiming themselves to be possessed by Jesus. And after Milan's 2007 Champions League final victory over Liverpool, one of these same players, Kaka, removed his top to reveal the same t-shirt legend: "I belong to Jesus". (Should this statement in fact be true, and should Kaka, as is rumoured, be sold to Manchester City, it might thus be a sound idea for City supporters to understand that the player is only theirs on loan from Jesus.)

Are religion, politics, sport and history inextricably intermingled?

In 1997 Robbie Fowler used a shirt display to indicate his support of sacked Liverpool dock workers. He was fined 2000 Swiss francs (about 900 quid) by UEFA.

In 2007, in a Brazil friendly with Guatemala appointed as a farewell occasion upon the retirement of the great striker Romario, the player removed his shirt after scoring a goal, revealing the slogan: "I have a daughter with Down's syndrome who is a little princess." Romario was, remarkably, yellow-carded for this "inappropriate" gesture.

Last fall in a Championship match Ipswich midfielder Michael Norris mimicked being handcuffed, as a show of support for his friend former Plymouth Argyle keeper Luke McCormick, sentenced to seven years in prison for causing the death of a two-year-old child by dangerous driving. The FA fined Norris 7000 pounds. Norris made a public apology. The fine money was donated to charity.

On November 30, 2008, South African midfielder Stephen Pienaar of Everton scored the only goal in a match away to Tottenham. Compounding his temerity, Pienaar then displayed to spectators at White Hart Lane a t-shirt bearing the slogan "God is Great."

In the first week of December 2008, Liverpool players, training for a match against West Ham, wore shirts with mottos supporting Liverpool fan Michael Shields, sentenced to 15 years imprisonment in Bulgaria for attempted murder of a waiter. (See above photo of Steven Gerrard thus attired.) No FA fines were imposed.

How should we regard these incidents? As simple proof of Greengrass's assertion? Or should we consider the incidents on a case-by-case basis, apportioning praise or blame according to our judgment of the rectitude, or lack of same, of the cause being supported?

Some may recall the shirt shown off by Ian Wright of Arsenal upon tying Cliff Bastin's club scoring record. Wright's shirt bore the legend: "179 just done it."

And then there was the shirt exposed by Swansea's Lee Trundle following his club's victory in the 2000 Football League final, contested at the Millennium stadium in Cardiff. Trundle's shirt depicted a cartoon figure in Swansea kit urinating on a Cardiff shirt.

James Joyce's Stephen Dedalus famously asserted that history is a nightmare from which one can't wake up. And then there is the even better-known truism to the effect that we ignore history only at the risk of repeating the mistakes of the past.

There is currently quite a bit of world history through which it might well be more pleasant to sleep a dreamless sleep. But unfortunately this history feels much less like a peaceful slumber than a nightmare. And if we are human and conscious, the mistakes of the immediate past trouble our sleep. Even George Bush, in his recent farewell address to the American people upon leaving office, confessed that his regime had contained certain "disappointments" (he did not use the word "mistakes"). Foremost among these, he said, was the sad fact that there had been no weapons of mass destruction to be found in Iraq.

This dovetails with Freddy Kanoute's shirt in that there are indeed plenty of weapons of mass destruction to be found currently in Gaza; American-manufactured weapons at that. White phosphorous has been raining down upon the civilian population of Gaza from the sky.

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=KBsgGvHRpz8

This weapon has been used before: in the firebombings of Hamburg, Vietnam and Fallujah. This is history; these are--as Rafa Benitez, were he a CNN reporter, would tell us, fishing the relevant scraps of paper from his pockets--"facts."

But what good would it do Rafa, or for that matter CNN? We probably would not want to listen. We'd probably be doing our best to look away. Perhaps we might be looking forward to next weekend's round of bread and circuses--er, EPL fixtures.

There is, for example, Tottenham's momentous home match with Portsmouth. Surely a respite from nasty world history, that.

Ah but wait. Let us think back a moment to Spurs' Sept. 28 visit to Fratton Park. A 2-0 win for Pompey; nothing very remarkable about that. But what is memorable about the match is not the scoreline. It will be recalled for some time to come, for another reason: the vicious racist and homophobic chants directed at ex-Spurs man Sol Campbell by the Tottenham travelling support.

Our Pseuds' correspondent Margin has lately written on this site about the rousing example set by Spurs fans at the Lane in their vocal support of keeper Heurelho Gomes in a November victory at home to Blackburn. So this lot, we know, have shown their contributions can have a significant effect upon the course of a match.

And what was it they were singing in that September match at Fratton Park? Nothing inappropriate or unsporting or even approximately historical, surely?

Here are two of the chants, as reported by the Guardian:

"He's big, he's black. He takes it up his crack. Sol Campbell, Sol Campbell."

"Sol, Sol, wherever you may be / You're on the verge of lunacy / And we don't give a fuck if you're hanging from a tree / You Judas cunt with HIV."

"Hanging from a tree", the Guardian suggested, could be a reference to a racist lynching, or more likely, to Judas's guilt-ridden suicide after betraying Jesus. Or, perhaps, to the death of footballer Justin Fashanu who hanged himself in 1998, after years of anti-gay taunts.

Nothing inappropriate, nightmarish or historical in any of that, surely.

This weekend Portsmouth travels to the Lane, where banks of CCTV cameras will be awaiting them, in anticipation of another friendly singalong from hospitable Spurs supporters.

"Inextricably entwined"? History and footie? Perish the thought. Football, like all sport, boasts the diamantine purity of a Platonic Idea.

Another Pseuds' regular, Guitou, has introduced into this discussion--apropos the Kanoute gesture--the example of Tommie Smith and John Carlos, the American sprinters who, after winning gold and silver medals respectively in the 200 metre final at the 1968 Mexico City Olympics, drew great media opprobrium upon themselves by displaying a Black Power salute on the medal-awards podium.

Smith and Carlos, at this distance, are viewed by many as historical heroes, and spoken of in the same breath with Martin Luther King--whose assassination some months earlier (along with the assassination of Robert Kennedy, and the events of the Vietnam War), helped create the historical context out of which the Smith/Carlos action arose.

No human action is not inextricably intertwined with other human actions. Some Pseuds' regulars have complained they do not have time to look at video clips. This is understandable, we're all busy people. Then again, to understand the Kanoute affair in context, one might do worse than begin by looking at this very useful clip documenting the historical context of the event Guitou has referenced:

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=eC5ubEEPYv

And perhaps, if you learned something from that one--for, if you were not old enough or brave enough to be cognizant of world history in 1968, still you might wish to learn a bit about it now, not only as it unfolded in that remote past but as it is unfolding here in our painful human present--you might wish to go on and view a few clips of the current ongoing events that form the historical context of Freddy Kanoute's recent controversial shirt-show.

Israel's use of white phosphorous in Gaza was first reported a few days after New Years. The first reports came on maverick websites. Here are some examples (and though some of the video clips are unpleasant, please keep in mind that history has a way of being unpleasant at times--it's just that way):

January 5/6, 2009:

http://bocktherobber.com/2009/01/gaza-israel-firebombs-civilians

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=zmCGcsX-WVA&feature=channel_page

By January 11, the enormity of the war crimes in Gaza was being documented by international human rights advocates appearing on Al Jazeera:

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=SMR5D9HfsJE&feature=related

By January 12, the mainstream news media giant CNN was finally confirming the white phosphorous atrocities:

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=AGvJIAufzO8

Cameras were now trained upon the nightmare. I will spare you the images of burned children I found in my latest video searches: they are simply too horrendous. What has once burned its way into your eyeballs will remain permanently embedded there.

But let me describe to you one final clip I discovered this morning.

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=RLAGPxQwK0I

Look at this one and then try not to remember it forever. In this clip one may see the streams of white phosphorous shells and tracers lighting up the dark night sky (and awakening the roosters) as they rain down upon Gaza City in the pre-dawn hours of Tuesday January 13. If you're like me, you'll imagine yourself there.

Then again, if entertainment is your object, and you enjoy fireworks, the clip may well simply entertain you with its aesthetic delights. When it's done, you can turn your mind back to the footie.

But if you're me, you'll feel the hot breath of the nightmare called history warming the back of your neck and making the small hairs stand on end. And you may no longer be able to deny, ignore or forget the human implications of what you're seeing. As to the feelings of the victims down below, who can imagine that? No one who hasn't been through such a thing.

But one can feel compassion. Which is what, I believe, Frederic Kanoute must have been feeling when he decided to wear that shirt and to show it.

And let us keep in mind that this gesture on Kanoute's part was no one-off. His record of backing up his Muslim beliefs with appropriate actions is well known (at least to some). He built a home for orphans in Mali. He put up half a million dollars to keep open a mosque in Sevilla. And as to that Sevilla shirt he wears, with its logo advertising the betting site 888, he's been chafing against the wearing of it for some years now (for Muslims, gambling is forbidden). This time around, he found a way to put out a shirt message of his own.

Winter Sports 1: Football and History -

A brief video essay starring Frederic Kanoute

Beyond the Pale

After an Israeli air strike in Rafah, southern Gaza. Photograph: Said Khatib/AFP/Getty Images

photo from The Guardian

"I learnt all the words and broke them up
To make a single word: Homeland"

I Come From There by Mahmoud Darwish

___________________________________________________________________________

The world is broken into pieces. Is there a language to bring the pieces back together and make the world whole?

Diplomacy and politics do not appear to contain this language.

Could world football provide the language in which this broken Babel of voices struggles somehow to speak?

__________________________________________________________________________________

From Spanish Football & Sports:

FEDERIC KANOUTE: BEST KEEP POLITICS OUT OF SPORT - A THOUGHT

FEDERIC KANOUTE yesterday voiced his personal opinion after
scoring the 2º goal in Sevilla FC 2-1 victory over Deportivo in the
1ºleg of the SPANISH CUP ( image below).
















We are all terrified & concerned as human beings of what is occurring
in Palestina, & we pray daily for a stop to the military activities so that the
Palestinian people can stop suffering. It´s a complex affair, it is not black
& white at all, Kanoute has a democratic right -plus as a Muslim- to
express his feelings.

However, just for reflexion, SFS feels it is best not to mix politics with
sport. The latter is already emotionally charged as to have another
emotional element get mixed in. Sports is meant to united, while politics
by its nature disunites as there is always a loser.

Althought Kanoute´s action is human, a sign of solidarity & a right, it´s
best be kept off the field. Its the ethical thing to do: neutrality in Sports

_________________________________________________________________

The above comment from a blog post suggests that Frederic Kanoute's gesture of displaying a "political" message in removing his shirt after scoring a goal for Sevilla--on January 7 at home to Deportiva La Coruna in the Copa del Rey--was inappropriate: "not the ethical thing to do," as the poster, one STRIKER, puts it.

What do you think?

Was Kanoute out of line? Or was he taking a useful step in attempting to find a language in which to communicate collectively held thoughts and feelings otherwise either inexpressible or effectively proscribed in the "authorized" world media language outlets?

Was his a legitimate attempt to begin through the communication of an intelligible sign to put the pieces back together and make the world whole--or merely, as STRIKER has implied and others have more specifically suggested, a further explosive fracturing device, aggravating rather than healing, separating rather than bringing together? And even, in the worse case, perhaps indeed also a naive and distracting sideshow somehow compromising the sacred "neutrality of sports"?

Beyond the Pale would be curious to know what Pseuds readers think about this.

In order to reach a semi-informed position from which to consider the question, please consider the following video evidence, comprised of ten minutes or so of clips of the event as reported in various You Tube postings--this is the important evidence--followed by another ten minutes or so of clips from the same source, documenting highlights of the player's career with Sevilla and before that with Tottenham (while entertaining in themselves, these latter clips relate to the question at hand only insofar as they establish Kanoute's footballing fame, and thus viewing them might be thought of as optional if you're a football fan and thus familiar with this well-known player's career already--or if you don't think demonstrations of his skills to be relevant in any case).

___________________________________________________________________

The video evidence

Frederic Kanoute scores for Sevilla vs. Deportivo La Coruna (2-1) in the Copa del Rey 07.01.09 (Spanish match broadcast--Kanoute goal only.)(1:17)

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=028K3m3Ely8&feature=related

___________________

Frederic Kanoute with Gaza (still photos/music)(Historical framing)(0:58)

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=SizJ0jintNM&feature=related

___________________

Footballer Frederic Kanoute showing his support for Gaza (Algeria channel news story, with historical context.)(1:27)

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=8YAE-3wamds&NR=1

____________________

Frederic Kanoute the greatest football player in the world (Frederic Kanoute celebrates with Luis Fabiano.)(0:17)

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=GrA3rq0H_HA&feature=related

_____________________

Sevilla vs Deportivo La Coruna 2-1 (Ahistorical view: Spanish broadcast match highlights, all goals: Luis Fabiano scores on a free kick for Sevilla's first; then Jesus Navas crosses to Diego Capel, who heads down past Diego Colotto to Kanoute, who scores Sevilla's second and celebrates with Luis Fabiano, showing his "Palestina" shirt; finally Omar Bravo pulls one back for La Coruna.)(2:49)

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=sbLGoMy6NwA&feature=related

_______________________

Three nights later, on January 10, Sevilla travels to La Coruna to again face Deportivo, this time in Jornada 18 of the La Liga season. An unrepentant Freddy Kanoute appears as a second half substitute, and in 33 minutes produces two fine goals on wonderful crosses--the first to Luis Fabiano, the second to Renato--to lead Sevilla to a 3-1 victory. Spanish broadcast match highlights.(3:06)


http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=7l8wqKIzPXk

_________________________

Frederic Kanoute Tribute--a "Frederic Kanoute complication" (sic) compiling Kanoute goals for Sevilla, to '08. (Apolitical)(6:33)

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=CtFaIdhXmvQ&feature=related

__________________________

Kanoute: Thunder! (Compilation: Freddy Kanoute with Tottenham, to '07)(4:53)

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=5yb9u-PVqV0

____________________________

The question then would be: having viewed this evidence, fellow Pseuds, do you agree with the conclusion reached by STRIKER (above)?