Put The Crack Pipe Of False Dawns Down And Plan For Tomorrow

In the maelstrom of ink and hyperbole it is often easy for journalists as well as readers to lose track of the essence of any story.  The key word in that sentence is ‘story’ because this is what we are being fed when we open the broadsheet or red top, or click the link: a narrative.  In England’s last display the story of Jordan Henderson’s call up and subsequent anonymous performance typifies the way the sports media operate.  On the face of it Henderson had a debut that was typical for many young payers stepping up onto a higher platform.  Indeed, anyone who has started a new job or gained a promotion knows that first you learn what is expected, and then given time you hopefully excel.  Where before the game he was being touted to sign for United or City, after the final whistle the disappointment was palpable and the hacks who had lavished praise on him turned on him and his England counterparts.  We were weak.  Talentless.  Our youth not displaying the confidence and verve of the French.  It is hard to disagree with all these sentiments but it is wrong to think that we can offer nothing.  Less technically proficient teams have done well in major tournaments; we need to learn to play to our strengths rather than lament our weaknesses.

Another fallacy is that Henderson was played somehow out of position.  As if a young and malleable player, pushed a few yards back in the pitch should suddenly be completely lost.  As if the only formation suitable for his style of play is the one employed by Steve Bruce at Sunderland.  He played beside Garth Barry and in such surely he was the box to box midfielder in that pair.  England have never employed a double defensive shield in midfield.  Henderson played in the middle of the park where his running and ability to pick a pass could be best assumed to have maximum impact.  His performance was spectral due to a lack of self belief; this will grow with age, and if he is ever to be a dominant and exciting presence in international football then this game will make him stronger.  The media constantly want things yesterday: patience doesn’t sell print.  It is up to the fans to back the young players, looking towards the next World Cup rather than the European Championships in two years

Before kick off Fabio Capello attempted to diffuse the excitement surrounding the fixture by explaining openly that this integration of young talent would not be without its growing pains.  Capello cannot be criticised for fielding Gibbs, Henderson and Carroll against France; the only valid criticism is that it has taken him so long to turn his attentions to the green upshoots of the English game, rather than continue to hawk the wilting petals of England’s Golden Generation^TM at the Chelsea Flower show… this analogy is withering – much like hope of winning a World Cup this side of my great-grand daughter’s birth.

It cannot be denied that England lack technical ability, that not everything can be achieved by merely ‘upping the tempo’.  There is reason to pause before curtailing this first foray into younger talent pools.  Support is the key here, in every possible use of the word.  Media and FA need to pull together and fans need to give things time.  Moping over X amount of years of hurt and booing young men will not get us to the summit of world football.

In the run up to the 2018 World Cup bid result we will be discussing how we can get a team ready to really compete.


~ Ed

Mercy, Beaucoup: Reaction To England v France

When the books of history are pulled from the shelf, dusted off and pawed over, the conclusion will be drawn that 2010 was not a year of fine vintage for either the English or French national sides. After eleven months of scandal and skeletons, not to mention a pair of World Cup campaigns so utterly and identically embarrassing that they almost deserved each other, the two sides met at a surprisingly robustly-turfed Wembley with their eyes determinedly fixed to the future.

All the pre-match amble surrounded the inclusion in the England squad (and, as it turned out, starting XI) of Andy Carroll, the Newcastle United good-time guy and occasional striker with a pony tail to make Carmela Soprano weak at the knees. Alongside fellow débutante Jordan Henderson was to be found a distinctly gloopy mix of familiar starters (Ferdinand, Gerrard, Barry) and bit-parters (Ben Foster, Joleon Lescott), while the visitors had simply started again from scratch, banishing the collapsed stars so bereft of spark and gumption (not to mention discipline) this summer, replacing them with eager, white hot novae like Samir Nasri and Yann M’Vila. On a night when 39 year-old Jari Litmanen found himself on the score sheet for Finland, it was encouraging to see a side embracing the new, and successfully too if their opening Euro 2012 qualifiers are anything to go by.

The first real action of the evening, however, was to be found on the touchline during the pre-game meet-n-greet. While French boss Laurent Blanc, looking not unlike a young Fabio Capello, stood classily bespectacled and calmly overcoated, the Italian himself, clearly feeling in uncharacteristically fruity mood, set about donning an England baseball cap. Not quite the dapper, elderly Euro-gent look we've become accustomed too. Perhaps he was hitting the tiles with Carroll afterwards.

Once the match got underway, it didn’t take long for the usual pattern to emerge. For the opening few minutes, England came out of the blocks at pace, getting in the visitor’s faces and trying to stop them settling into any kind of rhythm. The problem with playing this way, however, is that it can’t last for long against a team schooled in the fine art of ball-retention – certainly not for ninety minutes and, in this game’s case, barely for ten. France, instead of rushing, simply manoeuvred the ball with patience and care, shuffling players between the lines and causing the hosts to chase about like participants in a high class game of “piggy in the middle”. Before long, Karim Benzema and Florent Malouda orchestrated a deft one-two, resulting in the former driving the ball inside Foster’s near post. It was a fine strike, but also another blow for the Birmingham man’s confidence, so little of which he’s displayed on any level higher than the midsection of the Premier League table.

Five minutes after the opening goal a string of French passes lasting ninety seconds or more broke down and the ball dropped to the otherwise immensely impressive Gerrard, who immediately tried the 'Hollywood' sweep over the top towards Theo Walcott. Walcott, if you weren't aware, is quite quick. As a human pressure relief valve he's a dream come true; as a tool of balance and build-up, he might as well be wearing stilts. Needless to say, the ball was surrendered no sooner than it was won, the whole sorry episode summing up the difference between the two teams, both in terms of ability and mentality. Hope and thunder versus poise and control. Even the usually myopic Andy Townsend, summarising for ITV, saw it for what it was: “Here comes the forty-yarder”, he dead-panned, a voice weighed down with heavy-hearted resignation.

As with most international friendlies, half-time saw substitutions abound, with Micah Richards, Ashley Young and Adam Johnson introduced and the formation tweaked to a 4-5-1 in a bid to fend off France’s midfield dominance. But it was to no avail, and before the hour the visitors had doubled their lead with a classy, sweeping move finished off by the frankly excellent Mathieu Valbuena.

As the end approached and Gerrard trudged off with a knock and further domestic misery to look forward too, the Chap In The Cap brought on fan’s favourite Peter Crouch who, with his very first touch, converted a corner with a beautifully placed side-foot volley. Suddenly, with five minutes to go, England stirred and the game became frantic and open, as the hosts caught scent of the unlikeliest of equalisers. Several opportunities were so nearly brought to life, only to be choked at birth by a combination of inaccurate crossing and mislaid composure. The blunt truth of the matter is that anything other than a home defeat would have been a cover-up of epic proportions. In the end, class told. Same as it ever was.

So what conclusions can be gleamed from last night’s antics? On the positive side, Carroll looked like a natural, playing without fear and leading the line with determination and no little skill. You’d ideally like to see him closer to goal, but we can worry about that later – for now, he looked the part. Gerrard once again tried to be everything to everyone, and whilst such enthusiasm is always gratefully received, he still needs to be better directed, to have his energy and restlessness channelled into a system befitting of his undoubted qualities. For his own part, a little positional discipline wouldn’t go astray, but overall he led like the international leader that he perhaps should be. As far as negatives go, there are a million match reports I could plagiarise – Barry is no more an international holding player than you or I, while the dearth of quality depth, particularly in goal and at the back, remains a real concern.

But what the match really highlighted is a deeper-rooted malaise in the technical progression of the English game. As a one-off performance it can of course be forgiven, such were the number of injuries suffered by the hosts, coupled with a welcome desire to blood some of our younger guns. And yet as a neat summation of where England is as a footballing force, it was, at times, brutally accurate.  

~ Matt

Eastland Promise: How The Derby Was Drawn And Where It Got Us

Let’s be blunt: this wasn’t exactly the November fireworks display we were all hoping for. The build-up was stifling almost to the point of suffocation; never before in our lifetimes had a Manchester derby carried so much importance on its proud shoulders. In recent years, this local meeting had started to slip down Manchester United’s ladder of importance for a number of reasons. Domestically United had gone from strength to strength, continuing to dominate the business end of the Premier League while forging heated rivalries with Chelsea and Arsenal, not to mention continuing the running ‘who’s got more titles’ battle between themselves and Liverpool. United had also gone about raising their European trophy haul closer to the repeatedly decorated likes of Real Madrid and AC Milan by adding another two Champions League vases to a trophy cabinet already straining under its own weight.  

Meanwhile, back in the North West, those in light blue had spent a reasonable amount of the preceding ten to fifteen years yo-yoing between the top two, or even three, divisions, struggling to steady the ship, all the while living in the blanketing shadow of Old Trafford. But then something happened. In August 2008, reportedly days away from possible administration, City were bought by the Abu Dhabi United Group and in the twinkling of an eye everything changed. Within hours audacious bids were being lodged for just about every footballing household name you could care to think of, and in the following weeks and months City became the word on the lips of every individual across Europe with even a passing interest in the game. Were they the new Chelsea? The new Real Madrid even? Of greater importance locally, were we about to see a seismic footballing shift within their own city; a coup d’état in terms of purchasing ability, title challenging potential and global brand power? In short, were City about to become the new United?

Fast forward two years and City have recruited an expensive and talented playing side with an admirably English nucleus, and boast the sharpest-suited boss this side of Savile Row. Across the way, United open the shutters each morning to find an ever-growing queue of critics lining up to hark of a crumbling empire, one saddled with mountainous debt and a backbone of superstars on the wane. In short, not in many a long year had the Manchester derby acted as such a barometer for where the power status of the city currently lay. A positive result either way would be huge; stories of contrasting polemic, of simultaneous ascent and decline, surely already sat near-complete on newspaper office hard drives throughout Fleet Street and beyond, with only the blanks – the goalscorers, the hows and whens, the hard numbers – waiting to be filled.

The brooding back-story was, it must be said, equalled by the opening night theatrics. Whoever was in charge of stage direction at Eastlands on Wednesday evening deserves an Academy Award. The pre-production was without fault – stories of disease crippling the visitors’ squad, the evening kick-off time, the noise and the lights within the ground, the flares and the entrance music. The scene came on like some sporting apocalypse; only those with the toughest shells and hardest wills would survive to survey the debris.

And then, ninety minutes later, it was over. For all the pre-match gunpowder and plot, the match itself never truly ignited. Set up with similar formations and desires to neutralise first and attack second, the sides cancelled each other out for long periods. Last season we saw (including the League Cup semi-final) three explosive encounters between the two parties. Perhaps, when the sides met at Old Trafford last autumn, City were still happy to play the gallant underdog role, to take the game to United on their own turf. Having said that, maybe there’s equal validity to the argument that United have honed their 4-5-1 away game to such an extent that this was as much an attacking threat as we could have hoped for from them, especially if their recent journeys to Stamford Bridge are anything to go by. Last season’s late 1-0 win at Eastlands would certainly add strong testimony to such a theory. For City, there was so much more to lose this time: not just pride to be dented, but genuine title ambitions too. All the trademarks of the current side were on display: the tough-tackling yet still cultured midfield three, the Argentinean upstart forward who works and works and then when he’s finished, works some more. United utilised the strengths of Park and Scholes like we knew they would – graft and control in equal measure – with Berbatov and Nani charged with conjuring some deadlock-breaking moment. Sadly, it never came.

So where does all this leave us? With no bragging rights won and no point margin increased, the situation remains very much as-you-were. United lost further ground to Chelsea after their defeat of Fulham in the night’s other derby, but avoiding defeat to the noisy neighbours was, for the first time in forever, arguably of more importance. As far as City themselves are concerned, they showed again that they can roll with the punches of the traditional heavyweights. This weekend they remain at home for the visit of Birmingham, but it is perhaps last week’s victory at West Brom – the type of fixture that cliché-abusers would say title challenges are won and lost by – that better defines their progress since that heady day in August two years ago. Ominously, it’s the kind of fixture which United (who face a tricky trip to Villa) have failed to put to bed on more than one occasion this season. But then as the old saying goes, there’s no substitute for experience, and when it comes to chasing down the leaders, experience is something of which United have plenty in reserve.

The return match at Old Trafford is currently pencilled in for Saturday 12th February, although it's unlikely a 3pm Saturday start for this fixture will remain in place for long. I'd advise you to save your Valentine's Day plans until Monday.

~ Matt

The Look Away Now Team Of October

It is, as you may or may not have noticed, November. A fine month November, renowned for its predilection for fireworks, ever-shortening days and that creeping, gnawing feeling in your gut that you might just have wasted the preceding ten months and not achieved a single one of those resolutions you swore blind you’d stick to even if they killed you. Still, never mind: New Year’s Eve again soon.

Anyway, back to business. Such a fine cluster of days also represents the perfect opportunity to paw back over October’s top-flight action and come up with one of those best-of lists/rundown-type things that blogs, websites and people with few other social outlets just ache to compile. Our list of choice is a selection of the finest Premier League performers on display since September took its leave – a “team of the month” if you’re feeling picky.

Of course, such a list will be based solely on the opinions of Look Away Now’s dedicated writing team (i.e. both of us), so by the time you’ve navigated your way to the end of this piece, you may find yourselves in gob-smacked awe of our uncanny ability to sniff out the strongest XI imaginable. Alternatively you may become so uncontrollably angry and enraged, such is your dismay at finding your own preferred star performer discarded without so much as a casual mention, that you’ll leave work early and start up your own blog, simply to spite us. Frankly, we’ll be glad of any sort of emotional response. We’re that needy.

So without further ado, we give you Look Away Now’s Team of October. What’s that? No Gareth Bale? Controversial…

* * *

Goalkeeper

Matthew Gilks (Blackpool)

The theory goes that newly-promoted ‘keepers will get their hands far dirtier than their better-established brethren, such is the sheer volume of traffic they’ll surely be facing. The thing about Matt Gilks is that he’s not only beaten off the onslaught for the most part, he’s done it in such a fine way that he’s helped propel our plucky heroes Blackpool into the cushion-soft comfort zone of midtable.

Until recently Gilks’ career looked to be gradually petering out into mediocrity: seven years at Rochdale saw him clock up almost 200 appearances, until a move to Norwich rather stunted things. In came Blackpool and following a spell on the bench, he’s established himself to the extent that Man City are rumoured to be casting their beady, cash-ready eyes over him as back up for Joe Hart should Shay Given decide he might fancy a game this season. There’s even been hushed mumbles of an England call up. Exciting times.

Defence

Phil Jagielka (Everton)

Everton’s four league fixtures in October saw the Toffees ship just a solitary goal, surrendered, not exactly unforgivably, to Spurs’ frankly unplayable Rafael van der Vaart (more on him later). Considering two of their clean sheets came against members of last year’s top ten (Liverpool and Birmingham), we’re thinking their defence may have had more than a little something to do with it.

Jagielka (or “Jags” to intolerable people) has been in the form of his life for a while now, and has come a long way in recent times. Once a battling Championship defender/midfielder, best known for Sheffield United’s cup runs, his move to Everton two years ago has seen him come into his own, adapting to the culture shock of regular top flight action with apparent ease and earning a seemingly regular place in the England team in the process. Vital to Everton’s late-autumn revival, he’s been earning plaudits across the nation, and we feel duty-bound to join in.

Nemanja Vidic (Manchester United)

Back to fitness and back to his intimidating best, the man they call, er, Nemanja has been at the heart of United’s steady revival over the past few weeks. After the club’s much spotlighted off-field sordidness, Vidic has helped the United backline regain a modicum of steadiness (van der Saar howler aside) and while he’s certainly never going to get any quicker, his influence is growing at a pace, aiding the fast-track development of Chris Smalling to the extent that the young Englishman appears to have usurped Johnny Evans as United’s first reserve at centre half.

It should be noted that Vidic has also been tossed the captain’s armband, suggesting those rumours of his (or rather, his wife’s) unhappiness at Mancunian life that crop up every couple of months can finally be led out back and shot.

Vincent Kompany (Manchester City)

Kompany has been living up to his name and keeping close quarters with the Premier League’s burliest centre forwards, attaching himself limpet-like to Didier Drogba in City’s war of attrition with Chelsea at Eastlands. It is easy to underestimate his ability playing behind the wall of muscle that Mancini has constructed to protect his back four, but Kompany is the class act in an otherwise underwhelming defence.

Like a version of de Jong with ethics, he pounces on loose passes and heavy touches, mopping up any opposition attacks that have made it past Nigel “Scissor Legs” and Yaya “The Human Freight Train” Touré.

Branislav Ivanovic (Chelsea)

Is he a full-back or is he a centre-half? Truth be told, he’s really rather good at both. Not the quickest defender you’ll ever meet, young Branislav is more than making up for it with a string of commanding performances wherever he’s been deployed across the Chelsea backline.

Four clean sheets in five games during October, and a winning goal at Blackburn to boot (not to mention two more against Spartak Moscow in the Champions League) show that while he might not be at a John Terry-like level of importance quite yet, his steadiness and adaptability might just make him one of the more important members of Chelsea’s squad as we head into the deep midwinter.

Midfield

Nani (Manchester United)

Spurs fans may want to cut off his tongue, attach it to an autumnal stick and beat him with it while shouting ‘IT’S JUST NOT CRICKET’ while he looks on google-eyed thinking – ‘no, it’s not cricket…it’s football…no?’ Yes, he is a c**t.  But he has turned into the type of c**t that you picked first when you where ten and the field was tarmac, the goalposts cans of Lilt and the ball made for tennis.

Match-winning goals in Europe and the league have help United through a lean patch and have seen him running around celebrating on his own, hoovering up any stray credit which, to be fair, has been his for the taking so far this season. 

Kevin Nolan (Newcastle United)

As so eloquently pointed out by football365’s must-read columnist John Nicholson, Kevin Nolan is emblematic of that old fashioned, not-exactly-trim, top flight footballer of yesteryear all but eliminated from the elite regions of the game thanks to Opta Stats and nutrition. Once upon a time Nolan was supposedly close to the England set-up, but was surprisingly sold by Bolton and immediately plummeted to the Championship with the Toon.

But as is befitting of such a mighty frame, Nolan has bounced back and this season (at time of writing) has seven goals and a key role in Andy Carroll’s continued freedom to his name. Not bad for a man responsible for perhaps the driest media output in living memory.

Charlie Adam (Blackpool)

The man with two first names, Charlie Adam has effortlessly translated his Championship form into top drawer top flight performances. His passing and movement grease the wheels of the Blackpool midfield and his goals have carried them up the table, where many had expected their performances to be Geneva Convention-flaunting re-enactments of America’s water-boarding torture techniques: almost like drowning, but without the death.

Typical column inches have linked him to Liverpool and other Europe-bothering teams, but we hold onto the dream of seeing Blackpool in the Europa League and maybe Adam is the man to make it happen.

Rafael van der Vaart (Tottenham)

A goal in every game he has played at White Hart Lane has won him a place in the hearts of the Spurs faithful. Plaudits have been coming in from all over for his enterprising football, his effusive mannerisms and his Scholes-like lunging tackles. It has been a couple of decades since Tottenham boasted a midfield as artful as that of van der Vaart, Modric and Huddlestone and with Rafael at the fulcrum priding the goals, Spurs may have found the 20 goal-a-season midfielder that success in the Premiership seems to demand.

He nudges Bale out of the Team of October on his league form and for the sense he conveys with every touch that he is ever on the cusp of something magical.

Forwards

Javier Hernandez (Manchester United)

For a player moving to England from Mexico, taking some time to settle doesn’t exactly sound like an unreasonable request. Not so in the case of Hernandez, who has well and truly hit the ground running after an impressive pre-season campaign where he managed to find the net not only for United, but against them too. 

‘Chicharito’ followed up his Champions League strike at Valencia with four goals in all competitions throughout October, including a brace at Stoke and a late Carling Cup winner against Wolves. With Wayne Rooney’s body and mind seemingly splintered into a thousand unfit and unfocused shards, and with Michael Owen sneakily sabotaging his own legs just to get more time watching the gee-gees, Hernandez has become United’s first choice partner for the equally fantastic and frustrating Dimitar Berbatov. Old Trafford might have another hero to worship.

Carlos Tevez (Manchester City)

The Argentine maestro’s inclusion in our team is merited as much by his time spent on the pitch as off it. Three goals in two Premier League games at the front end of October saw the novelty t-shirt loving forward take his goal tally at the time for City to an astonishing 30 in 42 games – sky-scraping figures by anyone’s standards. An early red for Dedryck Boyata against Arsenal saw Tevez choked of decent service but continued to do his usual lone furrow bit until his lungs actually collapsed and all the liquid in his body turned to vapour. Probably.

But it was his absence at Molineux against Wolves that proved the kicker; missing through injury (and, to perhaps a lesser extent, homesickness), Roberto Mancini chose to place Emmanuel Adebayor and Marco Balotelli at the spearhead of his side. With both forwards unlikely to be competing for any National Bit-Of-Give-And-Take Awards any time soon, City were out-worked and, for surprisingly long periods, out-thought by Mick McCarthy’s men. If City are to genuinely have a shot at Champions League qualification (at least) this term, keeping Tevez fit and happy is a must. Mancini has reportedly had a dressing room uprising on his perfectly manicured hands. Lose Tevez for more than just a handful few games, and he might well have a state of emergency to contend with.

~ Ed & Matt

The Look Away Now Back-To-Basics Friday Predictions

Happy weekend, dearest reader. As you may have noted, Look Away Now, when it comes to the delicate art of presenting our humble predictions, has been mixing it up a little in recent weeks. We like to think that in an age of bland, flat-packed furniture and uninspiring Saturday night television, it really does pay to take the occasional stroll on the wilder side of life. Yes it may be unnerving, even a little scary, but a wee bit of mind expansion never really hurt anyone. Apart from maybe Syd Barrett.

Having posited that, there does remain a lot to be said for tradition. For after all, what would the beautiful game be without its traditions? Match Of The Day? Check. Stuart Hall sitting in a radio commentary booth at Goodison Park talking glorious nonsense? Check. With that in mind, we return with a full and funky rundown of this weekend’s Premier League fixtures and fittings. Ten games, no messing. So let’s begin.

Saturday 6^th November

Bolton v Gareth Ba… sorry, Tottenham, 12:45pm

With the chant 'Taxi for Maicon' reverberating in his gibbon-like skull box, Gareth Bale will once again be the focus of Bolton’s attention. Should Coyle's XI double up on the Welsh Wizard ^TM (rights have reverted from previous owner as of 2/11/10) it will be up to the rest of Spurs outfield to exploit the space and press for the full three points.

There are suggestions that Tottenham have never won a game in the Premier League at the Reebok. Can this be true? Yes, yes it can. This is a game Spurs need to win to keep them within touching distance of the top four, but Bolton are no pushovers and their passing ain’t too shabby either. Expect a hard fought but aesthetically pleasing spectacle. Crack an egg, make an omelette and enjoy this lunch-time feast. Maybe that's over-egging it a little.

1-2

Birmingham v West Ham, 3pm

Owners: saviours or pains in the proverbial? ‘A little from column A, a little from column B’ is probably the correct response to this little poser, an answer with no better embodiment than Davids Gold and Sullivan. Once the men who lifted Birmingham from Championship-level mediocrity to the top flight, they now find themselves charged with turning around West Ham, a side that’s seen more false dawns than... ok, we’ve got nothing here, suggestions in the comments box please. Let’s just agree they’ve seen a lot of false dawns, ok?

Saddled with a fashionable batch of crippling debt and a disjointed, pick-n-mix of a team, Avram Grant needs something to stick soon. Mark Noble, a dependable force in the centre of the park, will be missing for a month while Birmingham look to have found a little form at last. Fun fact of the day: David Gold has a pet fish called Scott Parker.

1-0

Blackburn v Wigan, 3pm

It surprised us to learn that Blackburn have won only two matches thus far this season; more surprising still that one of these was away from Ewood Park. The truism that struggling teams’ home form keeps them alive has never rung truer than at Blackburn over the past few years, and for all Big Sam’s bravado, it’s the performances of their now-ex England stopper Paul Robinson that have been largely to thank for the retention of their top flight status over the past year and a half.

Wigan meanwhile continue to confuse and confound. When N’Zogbia, Rodallega and the like turn it on they can look like a real threat, and yet the defence remains leaky and the form fluctuating. Wigan owner Dave Whelan asked for greater desire from his team this week. Against Blackburn’s muscle, they’ll need it.

2-1

Blackpool v Everton, 3pm

Happy times for Blackpool these, as they’ve continue to pour scorn on those pre-season naysayers (that’ll be all of us, then) who by this stage expected to see them on zero points and displaying a goal difference closer to a cricket score. Everton meanwhile have been on the up and up themselves, with strong performances against Liverpool, Stoke and Spurs dragging them away from the dodgy end of the table.

The superstitious amongst us may well be expecting Blackpool, fresh from their first home top flight victory in decades, to pull off the proverbial waiting-for-a-bus trick and grab a second on the bounce. Those people, however, would be fools.

1-2

Fulham v Aston Villa, 3pm

Is just it me or does each check of Fulham’s upcoming fixture, whoever it may be against, find itself met with a perpetual mental ‘meh’? Maybe it’s all those draws or their front line injury crisis, or maybe they’ve just been given a run of uninspiring opponents.

Either way, we here at Look Away Now have a good feeling about tomorrow’s match up with Villa, who are struggling to find consistency under Gerard Houllier. Players are unsettled – Ashley Young and Stephen Ireland spring immediately to mind – and the days of Villa pushing the for a top four spot seem like a distant, haunted memory. With Andy Johnson ready to make a comeback, Fulham’s time to put on a show may be upon us.

3-1

Manchester United v Wolves, 3pm

Home to a midlands side that plays nice football but will probably be battling relegation come the spring? Easy three points. At least that’s what we assumed when West Brom visited the Theatre of Sleepless Nights last month. Wolves registered their second win of the campaign against Manchester City last weekend, but this time they come up against a side very much in the ascendancy, following a comfortable night in Europe and last week’s not-controversial-in-the-slightest defeat of Spurs.

The dual absences of Nani and Fletcher may well present a headache for Sir Alex ahead of the midweek Manchester derby, but they should (should) have enough in reserve here.

2-1

Sunderland v Stoke, 3pm

Sunderland, it seems, are a tough team to get a hold on.  If we asked you to describe their overall footballing style, you’d probably struggle for adjectives. Similarly, their end of season placing seems to be the most divisive amongst those of us who like to indulge in a spot of July final table musing. Just two defeats so far this season (both away) see them in that strange early winter midtable zone, lying three points off Europe and four off the drop. Depending on how results around them fall, Steve Bruce could wake up on Monday having recovered from his weekly session of referee baiting with his team as high as 5^th or as low as second bottom.

Oh and Kenwyne Jones returns to his old club. He’s handy with his feet for a big man you know.

2-1

Sunday 7^th November

Arsenal v Newcastle, 1:30pm

Newcastle used to be scared of London. They used to dread even turning up, like a schoolboy afraid of the bullies lurking in the corridor, throwing a sicky for the umpteenth time and cowering under the bed sheets with just a Blink-182 cassette for succour. Newcastle’s mother has spent a lot of time worrying. But the years have come and gone and the once-meek adolescent has put a troubling puberty behind him and guess what? He isn’t afraid anymore.

Between November 1997 and December 2001 Newcastle failed to register a single victory in the nation’s capital in twenty-nine consecutive attempts, apparently until everyone’s favourite cutlery-teasing headcase Uri Gellar got involved. Their record since hasn’t been a whole lot better. Until now. This season they’ve won there twice, and despite their Carling Cap shellacking last week at the hands of tomorrow’s opponents, the Toon have no reason to fear their trip to the Emirates, where Arsenal have slipped up at least once this term. Yes the Magpies may well lose, but they’ll stand up for themselves in the process. Mother can be proud of her boy.

2-1

West Brom v Man City, 3pm

West Brom are proving themselves to be quite the spunky little upstarts: exactly the kind of team you don’t want to be facing after a run of three demoralising defeats (is there any other kind?) on the spin. Roberto Mancini has spent what little time he’s had between recent humblings fervently denying rumours of a mutiny on the Bounty, but they need to turn the ship around quickly.

Managers of Champions League hopefuls have been removed from their duties for worse runs than this and in a game that could be quite the entertainer, Mancini needs his stars to start shining again. Will they? Look Away Now says, with reasonable confidence, no.

2-2

Liverpool v Chelsea, 4pm

What was once a meeting of half of the Sky Four has now arguably become just another one of those tricky away days for the reigning Champions. Buoyed by three wins on the spin, Roy Hodgson looks to have (if we are to mercilessly continue the nautical theme) finally steadied the ship a little, although it’s hardly plain sailing (sorry) from here on in. They still rely too much on Gerrard for inspiration, and they need Torres to start hitting the net again pronto. Someone get the lad a wig; his form disappeared with those lovely girly locks.

Chelsea will be without Malouda for this one, but with a possible return for Lampard and with Anelka looking like the kind of player we always hoped he could be, you feel the Blues’ excellent record at Anfield might just be set to continue

1-2

~ Ed & Matt

The Little Pea Man

Pull forth a chair, beloved reader,

and permit your mind be free

As I chart the rise of a budding star

They call the Little Pea.

From humble Guadalajara

just a score and two before,

came sliming from his mother's pod

the Chicharito we'd soon adore.

Through hardened spirit and spiced resolve

our future hero did flourish

with Chivas, and how his mother doted

on the pea she once did nourish.

Her son grew strong, from boy to man,

from club to country he went,

'till one day a red-nosed Scotsman

picked up the pea man's scent.

Papers filed, with dotted i's,

our pretender made his move,

from the mother land to another land

of Hacienda groove.

Now patience should a virtue be

if above you stellar stars shine.

But our pea man's not for queuing up,

for fortune ne'er waits in line.

With friendly goals and cameo roles,

young Javier displayed his charms,

and dreamed one day of sweet embrace

in Old Trafford's open arms.

The rumours and the intrigue,

the murmurs loud did grow -

who is this she-faced wonder

of so little we hitherto know?

As summer bled to autumn

and the storms of October broke,

the world would as one be enlightened

on some fateful day in Stoke.

Stepping into the greedy boot

of the ankle that sore did throb,

our hero's time was drawing close

as Sir gave Chicha the nod.

A long way from home our boy is now,

as the Staffordshire gusts laid siege,

and with a corner kick now pending

will instinct, like the rainfall, freeze?

Show courage, urged the gods above

and your movement will follow suit.

Drop off the shoulder and lose your man,

give faint-heartedness the boot.

So the ball is floated, bodies rise,

the flick-on finds destiny set,

and with swirling body and twisted nape

our champion fair breaks the net.

In a moment the course of fate is sealed,

as red team-mates peel away

in celebration not just of a single strike

but of a hero born today.

The question now, dear friends and loves,

is how far our gladiator can go?

As before long he'll sure be pursued,

by Spanish Royals with cash to blow.

But for now in Manchester life is good,

future's seed is his to sow.

The world's his oyster and he'll swallow it whole,

our sweet pea, el Chicharito.

~ Matt

Thanks to Robbie for the inspiration.