Gertsamtkunstwerk

Live Blogging

I have never really seen the point of 'Live Blogging from the Sofa'. If someone is interested in a match, they'll be watching it themselves, or, if circumstances dictate that they are reliant on the net, they're better off choosing either a factually accurate blow-by-blow serious site, or one that, perhaps with the help of 'the public', provides a humourous oblique commentary of proceedings. Not some B- List blogger who had decided the world needs to know her half-baked thoughts on "Wow that is a wonder goal, almost as good as the one they scored last week which is being heralded as the greatest world cup goal ever and possibly almost as good as the one Joe Cole scored."

You also don't need to know that I'm going "What! Four strikers! One's gone home crocked. One's not match fit. One's still at school and the other's a useless twat with tallness being his only skill." Cos, you know, every England fan's saying the same thing.

Nor do you need to know my growing resentment at the useless statistics the half-wit commentators reel out without analysis or without any apparent understanding of the difference between correlation and causation.

It is useful to know, and needs little analysis, that Togo have lost six of their last eight matches. That emphasises that even an underperforming France are likely to beat them. It is vaguely fascinating to know that France haven't lost a match in which Thierry Henry has scored, but not very useful without context. In what proportion of matches has he scored? How many matches have they lost in that period, what happens when he's not playing, do they tend to lose when other players, not Henry, score, or do they just lose when they, as a team, fail to score? Meaningless superstitious twaddle.

And to come out with crap like - it's forty three years since Argentina have lost in normal time during a full moon in the second half of the month, in countries with a 'g' in their name. So bloody what. It gives me no insight into the fact that Argentina has a strong tradition of producing very fine players that often mesh together into a great team. Nor does a detailed listing of past performance predict the result of a current match. Fine, we know that the long-term trend of Argentina is to be a successful winning team, but the fact that they beat Italy in 1974 is no indication of how they will fare against Portugal in 2006. For instance.

But it is jolly good fun to watch the football. And not be tied down to national allegiances. Great to see Brazil beginning to get it together. My all-time favourite football team of all time was the 1982 Brazil team - Zico, Socrates et al. Boy, they could play. Overheard in the lift lobby the other day "Who's on tonight?" "Argentina-Holland" "Ugh. I'm not watching them." I don't understand it; if you are sufficiently interested to watch some, if not all games, and you are implying you are free to watch that evening's game, what have you got against Argentina-Holland that you'd avoid it.

Look, England are crap. Argentina will win it. Or maybe Brazil, if they can get their arses into gear. Don't rule out Germany as the home team. I predicted France in 1998 but the boys tried to belittle me saying that the home team rarely wins. I said, no, they're fired up, wanting to win, capable of winning. In those circumstances, home advantage gives an extra edge. That's all. History proves I was right, the boys were wrong!

Sadly, a combination of work and bad diary-planning means I shall miss a veritable feast of football: Brazil-Ghana and Spain-France on Tuesday. I suppose if people start quietly backing Spain to do something, they'll turn all crap on us again.

England World Cup Disaster

In the Real World, Disaster implies loss of life, or serious injury, or unplanned significant cash outflows.

But in the Parallel Universe What Is Football no words are permitted to be committed without a quota of hyperbole.

Thursday. the Nation Waits With Baited Breath. Some affect an attitude of Studied Indifference. Some think 'woot, the roads/trains/restaurants will be half-empty'. Delicate domestic negotiations have taken place "Well, okay you can watch it near work, but make damn sure you're on that ten past seven train home."

In a workplace somewhere, Billy-no-Mates tries to persuade people down the Civil Service club.

Colleague #1: I know you're my special-friend-at-work but that's only so I can use you; I'm meeting my real friends so yahboosucks.

Colleague #2: If I leave at half four I can get home for kick-off.

Colleague #3: I'm playing golf and recording it. If I read it's worth watching, I'll watch it. If not, I'll delete it.

Colleague #4: I'm a Scotland fan

Colleague #5: I don't watch football

Gert: You could come with me to a bar in Kensington.

B-no-M: I want to go to the Civil Service Club. It's £2.20 a pint. And I might meet a girl. (He's the Sevitz of this particular workplace. without the frequent joint injuries. And the idiosyncratic spelling).

Gert becomes Gert-no-Mates. It's logistics. Not possible to get from Westminster to Holland Park between Final Whistle and Curtain Up. Getting to a bar in Kensington for Kick off means leaving at four.

Inspiration. Rings up Jimmy. Please record the match. Basically, get the TV guide up on screen. Move to where it says Match of the Day live, or whatever. Press the button with a white 'R' on a red background.

Sorted. First half. Keep the BBC-refreshes-every-two-minutes-page up whilst copy-and-pasting for work-purposes.

Second half. Travel to High St Ken and keep refreshing WAP. Problem, WAP is quite a few minutes behind, so it's problematic when walking along KHS seeing the vehicular and pedestrian traffic moving again, and the WAP says 0-0. Finally, walking through Holland Park, it's final Whistle and we won 2-0, late goals.

Not a problem. I could just watch the final fifteen minutes.

Some hours later. Gert Cottage. Turns to recorded match. Part recorded it says. Uh-oh. Two minutes recorded. Recording interrupted. Fucking ace. Am I the only woman in the whole of England who has a man who is incapable of recording a football match.

Fortunately, I got a ball by ball post hoc report from my mother. Trinidad and Tobago deserved to win. David Beckham and Michael Owen are past it.

Like watching Barnsley...

I had been looking forward to the Brazil-Croatia match all day, in fact I nearly danced the Samba in the office.

Bit dismal, wasn't it.

Eng-er-land

One own goal, one relieved England

It was the perfect match yesterday. An early goal, and despite Paraguay dominance I never quite got to the 'oh my god we might lose it' stage. A wake up call to people who think England are invincible despite many of them (me included) not having much or any experience of seeing the top teams play even on telly. Not too much euphoria, so perhaps restraint on the alcohol front. Although, inevitably, a few arseholes had to spoil it for everyone else in Canary Wharf and Liverpool. Trouble with watching on a big screen - other people.

Euan Ferguson says it so much better: One own goal, one relieved England

Thanks to Trinidad & Tobago, predicted for three straight losses, for drawing with Sweden.

Makes everything very simple now. England's fate is in their own hands. A victory over T&T and a draw with Sweden. If we can't manage that, we have no right to be on course to meet Brazil in the semi. Let's be honest, we have the easiest group. Today is the "Group of Revolution" - Mexico/Iran and Angola/Portugal. Can't wait til Tuesday: Brazil - Croatia

Argentina v Cote d'Ivoire was an entertaining match. Makes me feel the World Cup has begun.

Is it just me or is the camera work shit? I would have thought that a technically advanced nation might be able to televise a football match in 2006. And don't mention those shadows in Gelsenkirchen.

The FIFA rankings for May are:

1. Brazil
2. Czech Republic
3. The Netherlands
4. Mexico
5. USA
6. Spain
7. Portugal
8. France
9. Argentina
10. England

Although, let's be honest, that really overstates the strength of Mexico and USA considering the quality of their opponents in CONCACAF

Flags

Flags are now officially cool! On this blog, anyway.

I have been from South Brixton to Denmark Hill and back, in one of the most densely diverse areas of the planet, and as well as multitudinous England flags I have spotted...

Brazil, Paraguay, Trinidad & Tobago, Ghana, Australia, Portugal, Italy , either Netherlands or Serbia and Montenegro, and something which I assumed to be an Irish flag (with attitude - Ireland ain't in the World Cup, and this is England, get over it...) but might conceivably have been Cote D'Ivoire. Pride of place must go to a Polish flag so enormous it was bigger than the car than it was flying from!

I wonder how many more I'll see over the next few weeks. Probably the least likely are Saudi Arabia or the USA.

But I stil hold the view that people who had England flags flying from their cars two months ago are just sad.

World Cup Wally

1978 (and before...) - no telly
1982 - saw quite a bit, in between 'revising' for crappy-but-school-said-they-were-important exams. England v France, I ran home from school, arriving two minutes after kick off. England had scored.
1986 - time zone bad, also the early stages fell slap bang in the middle of A-Levels...heck, I've just realised why I didn't do as well in my A-Levels as I ought to have done...
1990 - good timezone, living in misery in a bedsit in Westcliff on Sea, nothing else to do but watch the World Cup, except when I went to Nottingham, Hackney and Sale and watched the World Cup. Also, I remember there being some sort of concert the night before the Final
1994 - bad timezone, Up-to-eyeballs as newly elected Lambeth Councillor and newly qualified (and promoted) accountant. Didn't matter; England didn't qualify. The year we all supported Ireland
1998 New Lambeth New Labour. Serving my notice at work. Good timezone. Saw more than I thought was possible.
2002 Bad timezone, newly released from the council. Didn't see as much as I would have done in a good timezone. Perhaps due to poor and deteriorating TV reception. Plus we were on holiday for a week.
2006 Good timezone. Good TV reception. No council commitments. Working part-time. Roll on the World Cup...!

Oh bugger, I've gone and booked Fedora the night of one England match, and a night at Tosca completely clashes with England's final group qualifier.

Why can't I get my diary organised?

And if England win their group, they could be in a quarter final just three hours before curtain-up at Tosca, which is fine if it doesn't go to extra-time and penalties...do you think there's any chance of a Big Screen in the Floral Hall. The alternative is worse - England finishing group runners-up and yet somehow getting to the Semi-Final that will clash entirely with Figaro, my favourite opera with my favourite baritone.

I know it's chavly premature but it's only a virtual flag

There is an actual England flag somewhere in Gert Cottage but it will not be dug out until Saturday, and then only flown discretely during the match.

I have to say that I am looking forward to a Festival of Football, and of course, I'm supporting England, but I also want to see some excitement and flair from other teams...doesn't everybody have Brazil as their second favourite. I will be blogging the World Cup, of course I will.

But I have to say that even as a football fan I am mightily sick of all the hysterical hype that has been dominating the British media for the past god knows when, reaching fever pitch yesterday when David Beckham personally piloted an aeroplane and Wayne Rooney's metatarsal into Baden Baden airport. Football is a beautiful game that has inspired poets. But most of the talk, speculation, hype, chatter, blah, crap coming out of the mass media is at the end of the day trite, clichéd and vacuous.

In a way it's already started, a concert in Munich, with live webcams an' all. I grabbed a screen shot. Your guess is a good as mine....

Maybe that's the Finale mit allen Künstlern: COUNTDOWN FOR THE CHAMPIONS - "You’ll never walk alone“, Pomp and Circumstance (Edward Elgar), "We are the Champions“...

Success or failure?

BBC SPORT | Football | Premiership | Man Utd 4-0 Charlton

I watched (on TV) the glorious end to a Curate's Egg of a season. A season where we did pick up silverware, something that should never be taken for granted, even when it is only the League Cup. A season when we were always second best, always playing Catch-Up. And yet a season where we qualified for the League phase of the European Champions League, and won enough points to have won the League in most years.

We have some exciting young players and have bought some interesting new players in, too. It was heartbreaking when Wayne Rooney broke his foot last week, but heartbreaking more for England than for United. It seems we have seen the last of Ruud van Nistelroy. It's been brewing for a while but he bolted out of Old Trafford with a flick of the tail and a whinny. But it was great to see Paul Scholes back in action and the wonderful Ole Gunnar Solskjaer making yet another comeback. And of course, great to see Giuseppe Rossi on the pitch.

Bring on the World Cup!

Not a welcome headline

Ruud intervention revives race for the title

I rather wish the news people would shut up about it. I don't want to read headlines like that or hear news stories that it's game on. I don't want to know about 1996 or 2003, Newcastle and Arsenal.

A girl can dream. A girl does dream. But I had hoped it would be a secret, that nobody would notice. And now, with Easter late and the Premiership far from settled mathematically, the dreams can form, even though the girl knows that in 7 May if not before she will be crying into her flat champagne.

Chelsea are not going to implode. They have stumbled, maybe they will do so again. In my memory no team has ever become champions without a hiccup or two. Penultimate match of the season, Chelsea v Manchester United at Stamford Bridge. Potentially a six-pointer. If the matter is not decided by then, one can be sure that Chelsea will win all six points and will somehow engineer that they get an additional point, too.

But there is a little part of me - okay, a big part of me - that hopes that this disaster of a season when so many doubts have been cast over the ability of individuals, the capability of the team and the judgement of the manager, that almost by stealth we will emerge with a Domestic Double of trophies. But I have supported United for far too long now and know that rampant momentum is usually followed by prat falls.

World Cup concert

In conjunction with the World Cup, there wil also be a Cultural Festival, including l 3 Orchester und Stars concert in Munich, just before the tournament starts.

There's a programme now available. Gosh, that "Fußball Medley" looks fun...not...

Footballers in the News of the World

My site referral statistics are telling me some names....

Will Young
Matt Taylor
Jermaine Jenas
Cristiano Ronaldo
Alan Smith

Actually, those last two names have featured frequently in my site stats for a couple of weeks now...

Update: Incidentally, double standards alert having got all those search requests I felt the urge to click to the NOTW story. I'm neither linking or copying it; by next Sunday it will have disappeared out of cyberspace.

I happen to think that it's an example of tabloid journalism at its worst. Assuming the story to be true, and regardless of who the names may or may not be, it is absolutely not in the public interest to publish it - just because the public is, clealy and inevitably interested, I cannot find any justification for publishing what some young men happen to do in private. Indeed, it seems to me that it is an invasion of their privacy, with no justification.

There is a public interest to be served in outing politicians, journalists, religious people etc who preach homophobia in public and practice homosexuality in private. But a bunch of footballers and a pop star, who, if it is that one, we all know to be gay anyway, and to my knowledge has never demonstrated any hypocrisy about it. The footballers, whether they are genuinely bisexual or just bi-curious, experimenting, or whatever, so what. What is the problem?

Actually, the problem lies with many of those who are desperate to know the identities. Although we live in a society which (often grudgingly) accepts that some showbiz people and politicians are gay, we haven't been able to accept that sportsmen are (and we're a bit unsure about sportswomen, too).

It must be extremely difficult for a footballer who is young, who operates in that macho neanderthal largely homophobic world one moment and then goes to the trendiest nightspots in eg Manchester and discovers lots of other young men who are out gay, or relaxed about their bisexuality, or just totally metrosexual. Probably some of those footballers have non-footballing friends who are gay, but then a footballer or two gets 'found out' and they're up against the retarded views of the News of the World, when suddenly, it's quite a different deal from the designer bars of Canal Street.

In my ideal parallel universe I would love the News of the World to explainwhy this story matters. It is only printed to sell copies. Naturally, I didn't buy a copy, but my interest was stimulated. If their sex life interferes with their performance on the pitch, well, that's another matter, but one that could never be proved, and is likely to occur whether the sex is gay or straight, casual or in a committed relationship.

Giuseppe Rossi

Despite vowing not to repeat last year's Aquarius Project, I feel duty-bound to issue an addendum, because last year I had not even heard of this guy (he was a child when I began the project...), but in the intervening year he has inveigled himself into my pin-up gallery. Back in August, I thought - what an exciting footballer he looks; a few moments later I came over all hot-and-bothered, and then wondered if I was having a hot flush - after all, the potentially very great Pippo Rossi is almost exactly half my age...

Bring on the pie-eaters!

Manchester United beat Blackburn Rovers. Not a great game. But it's the result that matters in a Semi-final. I know it's only the League Cup, and no-one's season has ever been ruined by being knocked out of it.

But still, it's nice to be in the final.

And it's practically a local derby, against Wigan Athletic

This creates a dilemma for the mmofm guest blogger who has split loyalties.

Mind you, it says Bolton on his birth certificate...

Football

It seems such a silly subject for a post, considering that I don't only have a category here called Football, but that category contains sub-categories. All other sports are grouped together under... 'Sport Other Than Football'.

I have been a football fan as long as I can remember. Most specifically I have been a Manchester United fan. I suspect that my fandom has reflected the stage at life I was at. As a small child, I simply identified as a Manchester United fan. In my Teens and Twenties I was a regular attender, first only at Old Trafford and increasingly at away grounds. There could be a fascinating article written about how football fandom changes as life changes. But not by me.

I am approaching the first stages of young middle-age (but I'm still younger than Teddy Sheringham and Paul Ince, and don't you forget that...!)

In the 1990s it was utterly fabulous to be a Manchester United fan. I will never forget 1993, when we became Champions for the first time in my lifetime. And all those years of glory that followed.

Times have been lean of late, and I am conscious that I don't blog about United anything like as often I ought to. It's partly because of a sense of disillusionment with the football business. Not with the game, twenty-two men on the pitch, but the greed and nastiness, the Abramovitch-Glaser faction, if you will.

I started this season, as every season since 1970-something, full of optimism, even though the mature brain told me not to be so ridiculous. An Arsenal fan declared in August that Chelsea had already won the Championship, a statement I found profoundly depressing.

Back in August, in an early European qualifying match, a young player caught my eye. I did wonder how much of that was down to his impossible good looks, but I also know that over thirty years I've seen pretty boys come-and-go. In the few times I have seen him, albeit briefly, on the TV this season he has continued to strike me as being a promising player.

So Wednesday's FA Cup Third Round Replay against Burton Albion was an absolute delight, because there was no doubt who was Man of the Match - Giuseppe Rossi. One of the Four 'R's (along with Rooney, Ronaldo and Richardson). I know that Burton are very much lesser opponents, but the eyes cannot deceive - he has tremendous potential. Now we can only hope that he fulfills his potential. Sometimes, a player arrives on the scene who really goads me out of my jadedness. Even today, I was hoping he would come off the bench, and that Sky would put him onto Playercam, and I was really very disappointed that he didn't. I have never really used the Playercam, but for Rossi I just might.

He has played for Italy Under-19, and has been approached to play for the USA. If he chooses the USA he could make it to Germany later this year; if he opts for Italy he will have to wait for South Africa 2010. Discussing this indoors, Jimmy reckoned that if he has any sense he will wait for Italy. But I came out with the statement that over the course of his career - which could extend to the 2018, or even 2022, World Cup - I think he will stand more chance of a World Cup medal with USA than Italy.

It was ace this afternoon to beat Liverpool. It's always feel better to beat Liverpool than it does to beat anybody else. Especially in such dramatic circumstances, with Rio Ferdinand rising like a salmon to head the ball in.

I suspect Giuseppe Rossi might shift a few more duvet covers than Rio Ferdinand. I'm not sure that it feels quite right to have a minor crush-let on someone half my age..

Football shirt

I live in the borough of Wigan. Today I have been hunting for a Wigan Athletic shirt, but my dad says I can not have one because I would be called a pie eater. However yesterday Wigan beat my Dads team Manchester City 4-3. So I said at 1-0 that if Wigan won I could get a Wigan shirt out of my JJB vouchers. I won. He had the last laugh but only for a day. Because none of the stores had them in due to the popularity of the shirts I can not get one untill Tommorow.

Ole's back?!

Solskjaer back in action

Probably my favourite Manchester United player - I have a little model of him on top of my monitor at work. (For a long while it sat close to my Jonny Wilkinson calendar).

But 45 minutes can only really be the first step after 19 months out. Some people say he'll never play again. And at 32, time is not greatly on his side.

Still, it was good to see him with a major part in BBCTV's 'Rome' during his injury.

England second seeds

England seeded for 2006 World Cup

Do me a favour.

Second only to the mighty Brazil?

Yeah, right, I'll believe that in July. Not a day before.

Georgie Best Superstar

I have singularly failed to blog about George Best, and I am now putting this to rights.

George Best died on Friday. It had seemed likely for weeks, from Thursday afternoon it was officially inevitable. The media is full of tributes to him, and rightly.

I was born a Manchester United fan. I don't think it was especially my parents' intention, but that's the way it was. I grew up in an area which is absolutely Manchester United daft - except for our little road which bizarrely had a majority of Manchester City fans. In those days we even had actual Manchester United footballers living in the locality. On arrival at Primary School, the first question to be asked was "Are you a United fan?" And everyone hero-worshipped George Best. Actually, he had left United by the time I started school. But that was irrelevant. He was Georgie Best Superstar. Before I even started school, I enjoyed reading a copy of a Manchester United annual that lived in the cupboard at Grandad's.

I saw him play once, in 1982, in the George Best All Star XI vs the Piccadilly Radio Attackers, at Altrincham's Moss Lane stadium. He was well past his best. But, the point was, I saw him play.

During the 70s and 80s and even into the 90s, all we had to sustain us were the memories of past glories. Let's be honest here, I do not remember the 1968 European Cup Final. But it lived on and lives on as a folk memory. And history tells us that this was no ordinary European Cup win. Looked at only in retrospect, it seemed the ultimate inevitable conclusion of a remarkable story. But who could have predicted in 1958, when half the Manchester United team were dead, that it would be just ten years before the club proved itself to be the best?

Watch the TV footage, watch the sheer genius that was George Best on the field. How to describe him without resorting to cliche - poetry in motion? If you don't understand why people get worked up by football, watch George Best, watch his control of the ball, watch the way he takes on opponent after opponent. It really is the beautiful game. And he was the Best.

A meteor, not a planet. Said to be the most naturally gifted player ever from these isles. The best ever, said Pele. Invidious to make these statements.

A lot of people, not being into football, but being into Slebs, know of Georgie Best only as the dissipated broken drunk. Proper celebs become so because of their talent, their ability to bring happiness to the masses. Not just because they have a good PR agent. George Best's fame remained over thirty years after he retired. Of course the dazzling good looks, the personality, helped. Women wanted him, men wanted to be him. Even in the final months, those dazzling blue eyes stayed twinkling on, when the rest of his body seemed destroyed. But the good looks and the engaging personality would have not mattered one iota if he had not been the dazzling talent on the pitch.

And the alcoholism. What to say about that? His mother died an alcoholic. These things are often hereditary.

The subject came up in conversation on Thursday. Someone got very agitated and said he would not forgive Best for squandering the second chance he had, the new liver. I sensed this was more than an abstract comment on the day's headlines, perhaps there was a more personal reason. I decided not to go there. Someone else suggested, benignly, that medical treatment should understand we are sinners. Again, I did not go there.

Alcoholism is a disease. It's not a straightforward disease, which is cured by a course of tablets. When I worked in Social Services, alcohol and substance abuse came into Mental Health department. Like many alcoholics he said he wanted to give up drinking. He went to extraordinary lengths to do so. And succeeded, sometimes for months. Then went back to drinking. Why this happens, I don't know. what's the difference between him, an alcoholic, and me, a binge drinker? I can go for days without drinking, not even thinking about it. I don't need a drink to get me functioning in the morning. I rarely need a drink as a reaction to shock - maybe once a year. So how can I understand alcoholism? Alcoholics who fail to reform are not wilfully sticking their fingers up at society. It's not, at that stage, an arrogance. It's a mental illness which has a devastating effect on the physical health.

Should he have had a liver transplant or should it have gone to someone more deserving?

I don't know.

I don't know what proportion of liver failures are down to reasons other than alcoholism. I know some people have congenital liver disease. Others are affected by jaundice. Perhaps somebody knows the stats better than me, but I would wager that a fair number of people awaiting liver transplants are there because of alcohol. He said he would give up alcohol, indeed he did for a time. Should the medics have believed him, or should they have considered that alcoholics are liars? I don't know. Did he jump the queue? I don't know. Clearly, an organ transplant is dependent upon a tissue match, so they can never be done on a purely first-come first-served basis. Did he jump the queue by going private? I sincerely hope not, but if he did, I wouldn't blame him, but I would blame the system. Perhaps it's a question that needs to be asked in general - do private patients get preferential treatment over NHS for organ transplants?

But when all is said and done, I will always treasure the video I have of that grainy black-and-white coverage of that glorious victory over Benfica when I was just sixteen weeks old.

And next week Manchester United travel to Benfica desperate for the win that will enable them to qualify for the next stage of Europe.

Benfica.

Keane gone

Keane in shock exit from Man Utd

Certainly is a shock, considering it appears that he hasn't been transferred. Of course, he is nearing the end of a brilliant career. Of course, everyone knew he would be gone at the ned of the season. Any numbe rof clubs will be willing to sign him up, if that's what he wants.

He will go down as one of the greats of Manchester United.

But footballers come and go, even the best. The new geenration comes through, and life has to move on!

The worst week

Whenever Alex Ferguson has a bad week, so does Tony Blair. And vice-versa. I find it extraordinary how closely their careers run in parallel. Both are dogged constantly by media questions about their imminent retirements. Blair has had his Blunkett problem this week; for Fergie, it was Keane. Where Blair escaped a Commons defeat by just one vote, Fergie went down by a lone goal away to Lille.

Looking at the Premiership, it looks all over. United had that humiliating defeat at Middlesbrough. It will take a long time to recover psychologically from that. Sure Chelsea lost to Charlton in the League Cup, but it was on penalties, and they will, no doubt, write it off as one of those things. And I'm sure they will regard the midweek European loss as just a minor setback from which they can easily recover.

Frankly, they look invincible in the League: it's difficult to see who can stop their relentless unbeaten progresion to omnipotence. For me, the only matter of interest left in the Premiership is how long can Wigan keep it up; might they qualify for Europe. I decided after Manchester United's humiliating loss at Lille it's probably best not to follow these things. Sad though it makes me to say it.

But I do like that Darren Fletcher.....!

Names

There are frequent surveys that link academic success with have sensible names, and academic failure with having chavvy names.

Yet, namewise, the England football team today lies up: Paul, Luke, James, Steven, John, Sol, David, Francis, Peter, Michael, and Joseph. The only 'unusual' name out of those 'boringly' English names is Sol, which is short for Sulzeer, a name whose origins I would be hesitant to comment upon.

The subsititutes are more exotic: Ledley, Rio, Darren and Jermaine alongside Christopher, Shaun (I don't like that spelling...) and Keiran.

I dread to think what the England team or ten or twenty years will be called. But if names are the key to success, it might well be Paul, Luke, James, Steven etc etc.

Recently read...

I pre-ordered it and it arrived promptly on publishing day. And then sat on my coffee table for two weeks. Why did I want to read a footballer's memoirs?

I read a lot when I was younger, especially in my early teens. At that age they give a fascinating insight into the glamorous world of football, but even then, you don't expect great works of literature. Nevertheless, looking back, and, indeed, looking at some I have read in more recent years, one has to conclude that Footballer's Memoirs, as a genre, on the whole are pretty appalling.

It's not that they're badly written, after all, they're mainly ghost written by journalists. Let's face it, who, other than writers actually write their own autobiographies. (Well, okay, politiicans. I haven't read Bill Clinton's, which ought to be fascinating, because, reportedly, it's full of long, turgid prose and it almost unreadable. ) The problem is, most footballers don't really have anything to say. Once they have shopping-listed their career successes, their injuries, their goals, what more is there to say?

And, I have to say, Lee Sharpe's memoirs are a perfect example by contrast of why footballers' memoirs are so boring. His are interesting, and analytical, and contain a surprising level of self-awareness. That didn't entirely surprise me. When he was at his prime, I used to buy a video magazine about Manchester United; he featured heavily, being so telegenic. He always struck me as articulate, and intelligent. (I have to say that I didn't watch more than fifteen minutes of Celebrity Love Island, despite his presence).

Although, obviously, it's difficult to tell how much is him and how much the ghost writer, there are some extraordinary descriptions of the unglamorous side of football including  his days as an apprentice at Torquay. Fascinating portrayal of life as a young professional at Manchester United. And interesting insight and analysis into the psyches of Alex Ferguson and Roy Keane. I don't think Fergie comes out of it very well. Not that Sharpey is nasty, he just highlights Fergie's shortcomings, and concludes with extraordinary high praise for him. And he explains Fergie's shortcomings by his limited background.

He describes when he was at Bradford, at age about thirty, he decided to enrol on a course, aimed primarily at business people, about motivation, positive thinking etc.  It was a revelation to him that something so simple could actually be so effective. All the time previously in his career, it had been about fear - fear of the opponenets, fear of making a mistake, fear of failure. Yet he believes that by telling people they can do it, or writing a positive score on the wall before a game can dispel many of the self-doubts. He says all he ever wanted to do was go out and play football, he wasn't even bothered about medals. He wanted to feel the ball at his feet. And to earn big money and attract beautiful women.

He was shocked when on loan at Portsmouth, Graham Rix took the more experienced players aside, and, whilst emphasising that his word was final, he wished to hear their views. This was a shock to Sharpey , because hitherto, he had been used to having to do what he was told, unquestioningly. Even to the extent that Fergie ordered him to move out of the house he shared with his grlfriend and move back into digs.

He illustrates how much has football has changed since he joined Torquay in 1987 and United in 1988; sometimes it's so easy to forget. I suppose what is most noticeable is the extent to which managers like Fergie, for all his proven track record, really are a dying breed. He talks about Sam Allardyce at Bolton, and how they have teams of psychologists.

It's also interesting to read what he has to say about his cohort of players and how little they were taught about to live their lives, in contrast to that cohort (four years younger) of Beckham, Scholes, Butt, the Nevilles. He's funny about the Nevilles, without ever - quite - being cruel.

I would say it is a must-read for any Manchester United fan, and highly recommended to any football fans. Totally essential if you're a Sharpey fan, of course.

I know it sounds silly, considering that this is a former Manchester United and England player, with an impressive list of honours, but I sort of thing that this is the waste of a good brain. I know he's getting more into punditry, and he hints that the Celebrity Love Island thing has opened the door for more TV work, but, even though I know the book was ghost-written, I can tell that the originator is Sharpe just not by name.

Top of the League, again

Man Utd 1-0 Aston Villa

Another Saturday lunchtime kick-off, another £7 I'm not prepared to pay for PPV. Doesn't seem to be a convincing win. But three points in the bag is Good. I tend to take the view that unconvincing wins are better than playing brilliantly and losing closely and spectacularly. And good to have got off to an 'assured start to the season'. First objective is always to prevent the pundits saying "Manchester United are past it, out of it, finished, non-contenders." Second objective is to demonstrate that they are contenders. The rest comes after that, but probably not until mid-October, really.

And Sheringham scores...!

West Ham 3-1 Blackburn

Teddy Sheringham was born before England won the World Cup. (1966 was a good year for English football...)

Does anyone know offhand who the oldest Premiership scorer is?

I know there was spate a few years ago of old players - the one that springs most quickly to my mind is Ray Wilkins, who left QPR when they were relegated in 1995, a few months short of his fortieth birthday. John Burridge played for Man City at age 43 and 4 months, but he's a goalie.

Whilst Teddy Sheringham continues to play Top-Class football, and for a further two years after that, I shall continue to call myself 'young'...!

United, United Top of the League

Sorted!

United beat Everton 2-0 at Goodison Park, thanks to goals from Ruud van Nistelrooy (43) and Wayne Rooney (46).

Good, solid away victory against one of last season's top teams. They beat us 1-0 in the corresponding fixture and we had two sent off.

Hopefully, it will be on MotD. I absolutely refused to pay £7 to hear those ghastly Sky commentators and their nasty 'whoosh'. Sky TV is already robbing me blind. I don't need them to rob me deaf, too.

Kick off

Thank goodness, the Premiership starts this weekend. Those few weeks without proper football just isn't worth living...

Predictions: Chelsea will buy the title, with the other three Euro places going to the big Red Teams. Relegated: Sunderland, West Ham and Wigan.

Not very imaginative...!

Manchester United's Player of the Season will be Ole Gunnar Solskjaer (who sits on my PC monitor at work), just ahead of Cristiano Ronaldo. Young player to watch, if he's half as good a footballer as he looks, Guiseppe Rossi... For an 18-year old. Agggh, he was born a few days after I realised that most of the Manchester United team 'Fergie's Fledgelings' were younger than me. Blimey, Fergie was already United manager when Rossi was born...

Before I know it, I'll be collecting me pension...

Bizarrely, all those three are February-born.

Another player I shall be watching closely is Gabriel Heinze. I hope he reaches his potential this season, if he does, he will be stunning. Otherwise, he'll be out.

And Giggs and Keane will be vital cogs.

I'm so excited. I watched the match at home to Debrecen on Tuesday. Nice comfy win, but I'm not sure we ever really got going. Ronaldo was excellent. Van Nistelrooy looked strong, now he just needs to get into the box, and he might start scoring...

Prediction for tomorrow. Everton will beat us 2-1.

12.45 on PremPlus. I hate Saturday lunchtime football. It interferes with the natural order of things.

Saturday lunchtime update: Not watching the match. Considering I already pay nearly £50 a month for SkyTV I resent paying another £7 for the dubious pleasure of listening to over-hyped semi-articulate halfwit tossers (Tyler and Gray) and that 'whoosh' that sends me homicidal.

It's football......

Poco a poco the new season draws closer. This season will be make or break time for Malcolm Glazer United.

I say that, but every year the prophets of doom circle. Remember Alan Hansen's "You'll win nothing with Kids"? (I bought the t-shirt...) or Gert Blog's "This season (2004-05) is the first one since the Eighties that United have failed to win a trophy for two consecutive seasons" - Gert's Manager "You won the FA Cup last season..."

August is ace. We're in everything. Anything's possible. The draw has been made for the Final Qualifying round of the Champions League. United play either Debreceni or Hajduk Split whilst Liverpool avoid Everton

I had a boyfriend who left me to live in Debrecen. (I had another one at the same time who left me to live in Brussels). Hajduk Split were big in the Eighties.

We ought to win this tie, even with the disadvantage of the home leg first. But 'ought' isn't the same as 'will'.

Oh god, here we go again, another season of 'will we, won't we', taking each game as it comes. You know I love football. but sometimes I hate it as well. I hate all the endless newspaper speculation, I hate the hysteria of Sky TV commentators, I hate the tribalism and aggression that the local Chelsea fans, in particular, display.

But get eleven men against eleven on that pitch and it really is the Beautiful Game.

Being that it's not even August yet, I confidently predict that we will do the Domestic Treble and win the European Champions League, just prior to England beating Brazil on Penalties in the World Cup Final!

On Glazer

I've seen the future and it's Red

I have been criticised for not, thus far, blogging the Glazer take over of Manchester United.

Will Hutton has an article, and quotes a nameless minister

Football clubs have a special relationship with fans and with communities; they are part of the structure that makes us what we are. They shouldn't be bought and sold like commodities.

'Should' is not the same as 'is'.

Hutton finishes with an extraordinary claim

The growing wariness of America and resistance to the export of its values is part of a wider trend; it is Sky beginning to recognise that if it wants to win audience it will have to make television in Britain for the British rather than show tired US retreads - a phenomenon evident across British TV; it is the NHS warily guarding itself against criticism that it is opening itself up innocently to American healthcare companies preoccupied with the bottom line, however innovative their approach; it is to George Bush's foreign policy; it is the increasing tattiness of brands such as McDonald's and KFC; it is to the import of American casinos.

I happen to share his dislike of that sort of Americanisation, but I we are of a liberal chattering class middle-aged minority. I don't think that revulsion is shared by the McDonalds-eating MTV-watching hordes that are apparent everywhere from my immediate workplace to casual street encounters.

If we implement our policy to ban baseball caps it may well have the consequence of sending a big 'F*** off' to Glazer.

Sunday in Cardiff

I wasn't there, BTW. It's a good few years since I've been to an FA Cup Semi Final. Good few years since I've been to a live match. Jonah and all that.

We went out for dinner immediately after, and I didn't get round to blogging it. I thought that maybe my youngest Guest Blogger might have something to say.

Anyway Manchester United continued their inevitable and unstoppable progress into the FA Cup Final. I thought over the weekend that they have never lost a domestic semi in my lifetime. Motty said that they last lost one in 1970. I don't remember that. Harold Wilson was Prime Minister, Paul VI (the last gay Pope) was Pope, and Number One was probably either Bridge Over Troubled Water or All Kinds of Everything.

The Final will be on 21 May which I know is also Eurovision Song Contest Day.

Today England played Northern

Today England played Northern Ireland at Old Trafford and of course England won 4-0. The scorers were Joe Cole, Michael Owen, Baird OG and Lampard. This is Joseph again and I did the blogging yesterday as well.

B-in-L

Just noticed my dearest better half wrestling with the computer and thought it would be an ideal opportunity to change this site into a Manchester City fanzone as I know Gert would be delighted on her return.

Unfortunately, nobody in this house follows opera, although Gert's niece is rather dramatic and adores the ballet. Likewise, we are not particularly exercised by political debate, so I'm afraid regulars may be a wee bit disappointed until Gert's return.

Child no.1 (and chief blogging assistant) has been trying to find ring tones for his phone. His main search has been to try to find Amarillo. (I offered to show him the way!). When I mentioned that I remembered it the first time round he looked at me as though I was stupid. The shame of it is that I used to love the song, along with 'Avenues and Alleyways' but having made the mistake of buying him the best of Tony Christie, if I hear it one more time I'm likely to throw the CD player through the window.

Child no.2 is pretending to clean her room. She disappeared for 2 minutes and then returned saying that it had been done. I'll have a look at it in a minute but expect to see everything shoved under the bed.

I'm happy to take part in any discussion I understand. In the meantime I'll rack my brain for some starters for 10. Bear with us if you would be so kind.