Liver Bird Heads Buried in sand

There is only one remedy that can dull the pain of seeing your beleaguered team spluttering into disappointment before the Christmas turkey has even been plucked -denial.

When ever Liverpool have a dip in form, I find my self consciously burying my head in the sand, avoiding match reports, switching off highlights, and shunning any talk of the teams misfortune even with fellow supporters, where you would think strength would be found in numbers. No, I prefer to disconnect and basically turn into a footballing social recluse. A flawed theory of "What you don't know can't hurt you." Hence the lack of posting's here in that last few weeks. Such is my desire to be insulated by grains of sands populating every orifice in my head, before the Lyon game, I even considered doctoring the Liver birds feathered head on my Liverpool shirt, so that it to was buried in the sand. If only I could sew.

Thankfully, I didn't vandalise the shirt despite Liverpool failing to stage yet another "Cup Final" turn around after being denied by Lyon's Lisandro equaliser at the death. Being pipped at the post is difficult pill to swallow at the best of times, but these things have a tendency to coincide with a string of poor results.

While I might have my head buried in the sand in vain attempt to shelter from the down pour of bad results, I refuse to believe that Liverpool's decent into the abyss, where Champions League football is just a mythical pipe dream the other teams outside the big four can only dream about, is anything more than poor form and horrendous luck. Besides the departure of Xabi Alonso to Real Madrid in the summer, the squad is fundamentally the same set of players, the manager is still Benitez and we are still owned by Americans who put the club in to debt in order to buy it.

Alonso, while he was obviously an integral cog to Liverpool's system, can not be the sole reason the teams form has since declined. Benitez had little choice on the departure once Alonso got the call from Perez who was building another generation of Galatico's. Instead he cashed in, and got a reasonable return and replacement in Aqualani, which is the nature of football. Players come and go, teams get rebuilt. I assumed Manchester United would be lost without the fantasy league points hording Ronaldo, but they seemed to have coped. Sure, winning the league and reaching the Champions League latter stages might not be such a full gone conclusion for Sir Alex's men, but their is no sign of imminent collapse.

I thought that victory over United would be the kick start to the season Liverpool so desperately crave, only for the debacle at Fulham to unfold seven days later. The sweat over Benitez brow seemed more like beads of liquid fear being squeezed out of the Spaniards pores as the pressure intensified at Craven cottage, but I still believe Benitez can and will turn Liverpool's ailing season around. Blind faith or classic denial? You decide. Until then, I will keep my head firmly buried in sand. Pluck me out of the dunes when we beat United again.

Fat Beck's is off to South Africa

Even if David Beckham some how became obese, due to the 6 months spent on loan using the woefully inadequate training practices that 7 times European Cup winners AC Milan insist on using, I would personally mobilize the man mountain with one of those double width wheel chairs, to ensure he retains a place in England's World Cup Squad that is South Africa bound once United have predictably wrapped up the Premier League come summer time.

You can just picture it now. Beckham, Draped in the pristine white of the tailor made fat man's dress, majestically wallowing on the right wing, demonstrating less movement than a hog's corpse in the Kalahari desert, but with one wheezy lung full, capable of mustering up the energy to rain in a cross with military like precision.

Despite England having already qualified for South Africa with a game to spare, winning all but one game, and still able to pluck up enough motivation to comfortably beat Belarus 3-0 when I am sure most of the England squad would have rather been running back to their respective clubs injury free, some sections of the media such as tabloid chip paper the Daily Mail, still managed to put a negative spin on the feat, using David Beckham's, albeit surprising man of the match award, as the catalyst.

Jeff Powell's article entitled "David Beckham man of the match award another bad joke" started off by announcing that Wembley had descended into lunacy, compared Beckham work rate with that of the ball boys, and tied up the mental health analogy by describing Wembley as an Architects folly, that had at least for one night become the asylum of Beckham Madness. All very patriotic, celebratory and sterling stuff indeed.

Unfortunately, the lunacy that seemed to fill Wembley must have warped Powell's mind also, as he failed to see through Bruce's overly zealous man of the match award and recognise that the only senseless thing was entrusting Bruce's judgment, who has obliviously had a crush on Beckham ever since the spotty teenager was paraded in to the Old Trafford changing room by Ferguson many moons ago. That, and the faint hope that Beckham would trade in LA for the beach balls on Wearside rather than Milan!

Instead of relying on the judgment of supposed experts, who have suspicious ulterior motives, why not deploy a ballot with maybe four or five of the most obvious candidates, then let texts decide the winner. Not that I would ever vote, but I am sure between the many millions watching a suitable consensus would be reach on who deserved the man of the match.

I'm sure if Broadcaster had embraced this social interaction, we would have been saved Beckham's blush's when he received the generous award. And, that Bruce's selection and the ensuing negativity that followed, would not have over shadowed the game changing ability Beckham still possesses. I don't think Beckham should be starting for England come next summer, but he could prove to be a secret weapon, especially when England are lackluster and in need of a creative spark. Beckham has never been a winger full of blistering pace or bags of tricks, but his passing and crossing has been, and still remains to be world class, and for those reasons alone he gets my vote.

The Future: England 2.0

What could be more convenient than hunching antisocially over your laptop, face illuminated by the glow of watching live streaming football, while flicking between tabs on your browser any time the action becomes less appealing than checking email? And, should you feel really technically savvy, nostalgic viewing through your TV can be restored by hooking up the pipes of the interweb directly, just in case the letterbox sized laptop viewing was making your eye's wince a little too much.

Following Setanta's woeful demise a few months back, the rights for the Ukraine v England game landed back in the original holders lap, Kentaro, which commissioned Internet broadcaster, Perform, an impromptu opportunity to show the first live streaming of an England match via the web. Kentaro had listened to a last ditch "competitive" £1m effort from the BBC, but ultimately decided this offer fell way short of their £3m valuation.

Whether Kentaro's value was way too optimistic for a game that held about as much weight to it as the ailing England World Cup 2018 bid, or whether the BBC's offer was far too scrooge like, matters little as ultimately, and predictably, the cost was levied at the door of the supporter. How reassuringly corporate. Had the fixture been critical to England's qualification hopes, as penultimate fixtures in Eastern Europe so often have been in the past, I am sure the BBC, or someone with more clout would have stepped up and tabled a bid that would have satisfied Kentaro coffers.

While this may have been the first legal streaming of Football of any kind, using the Internet as a platform to broadcast live sports, the technical glimpse of the future has been going on for some time, albeit illegally through self broadcasting sites such as Justin.tv. I discovered the site little over a year a go when a friend asked if I was watching Rangers v Liverpool in a preseason friendly, which I abruptly answered with a scoff. About 30 seconds later, dumbfounded and scoff retracted, I was watching the game, which, to top it off Liverpool won handsomely 4-0, if I recall -at Ibrox!

I had very little motivation to shell out the £11.99 to watch the game, and had I not been preoccupied with higher priority tasks such as laundry, I would probably have turned to justin.tv anyway. I can not remember the last time I had the arrogance and luxury to be more interested in domestic chores than World Cup Qualifiers.

Kentaro's price point was out of sink with the true value of the match. They clearly saw an opportunity and took advantage, but in terms of future games, the prices will have to come down, offer more than one game, or be an actual game with bigger enough importance to warrant the lofty price tag. Supporters already have to pay through the noses, so heading down a pay for view model will test even the most hardened football addict. Besides, given the apparent success of the experiment, I would be amazed if more traditional media conglomerates such as BskyB, are not already working on the ability to broadcast matches via the web, if not they should be. I'm sure within 10 years time, and I hope sooner, at least having the option to view matches via the web will be common place.

What ever the long term future of Kentaro, I hope it will help spark some competition in a market that is dominated by Murdoch's empire, and therefore promote some creativity and innovation. This is possibly verging on the ridiculously optimistic, even for me, but this could ultimately be good for supporters if healthy competition can force prices down to a more tolerant level. Although, how we would then insure every Football gets a free DB7 with every signing on fee.

For now I will make do with BBC highlights accompanied by Mark Bright sounding more like an early morning TV presenter than commentator, with his stand out quote being, "oh the ref's played on their, when Heskey's got one in the face." If I don't hear Mark Bright "tut tut" until the next time an England match is on the Internet, it will be too soon.

In terms of the actual Football, I'm not sure what all the fuss about Rio is? OK, he was napping half the time, and was the cause of the early sending off such was his narcolepsy, but in general, the entire back line looked edgy, especially Ashley Cole.

England may have lost their 100% record, but I think the defeat could actually do some good, keeping English feet firmly on the South African soil. Our arrogance and self entitlement was already becoming unbearable, so being knocked down a bed or two will be a good lesson. Who needs another Adam Crozier "Golden Generation" label with a World Cup Finals on the horizon?

For anyone who missed the highlights, here they are brought to you without the aid of Cable TV, digital or satellite........100% Internet.


Ukraine v England

Trey | MySpace Videos

United's "next goal wins" tactic pays off once again.

Their aren't many things that I would adopt from North American Sports, I can live without the intermingled fans and the nauseating piano plucking that fails to make up for the absence of atmosphere, but punctual time keeping is defiantly one that I would favour. All North American sports, I believe, stop the clock for injuries and disciplinary. Even time sapping final minute substitutions would be a pointless tactical endeavor when you have the miraculous ability to freeze time with the push of a button.

When will the FA, finally update their time piece's with one's that have stop/start technology, i.e. a stop watch? Rugby has somehow kept up with technologies relentless charge towards progress with a complex audio device that hoots after 80 minutes, and they employ video replays for those decision that are just too tight or too physically difficult to call. Michel Platini's insistence to litter the bylines with humans brains, incapable of mental replays is an idiotic idea I will leave for another day.

Manchester United once again profited from stoppage time, rescuing a point against Sunderland after being uncharacteristically subdued for most of the game. Put it this way, its not often that Paul Scholes struggles with his passing, but he would have struggled to tie his own laces let alone thread a decent ball through a well organised Steve Bruce inspired defense.

Sir Alex Ferguson, vented his frustration at the Referee Alan Wiley's fitness being far inferior to that of a butchers dog from Europe, but I thought the rotund whistle blowers performance was just about at the level you would expect for 90 minutes. Nobody told him to train for 90+ minutes, poor little mongrel was probably wondering when it would finally end. I'm sure for his next match he wont be so ill prepared, having rebuilt his fragile self esteem by pounding the tread mill in mid week.

But its not just United I am targeting here. They have benefited from the most added on time in the Premiership over recent years, proved by a Guardian article published shortly after the outrageous 6 minutes added on in the Manchester derby last week -Craig Bellamy really does need to work on those over elaborate 6 minute goal celebrations- but teams win and lose out to vague stoppage time week in week out. In what profession are rough time estimates universally acceptable, apart from builders? Try explaining to someone unfamiliar with football, the complex equations needed to calculate what is a sufficient amount of additional time, and you end up making football look woefully primitive, as their disappointed faces will illustrate.

In a game, and especially the premier league, that has progressed so much in the last two decades in terms of both global appeal and the shear volumes of money at stake, football's reluctance to progress rectifiable problems is baffling. Its the equivalent of insisting on using a sun dial, only to start guessing the time when the ominous black clouds rudely cover the skies.

Besides feeling sorry for a referee that will now be insecurely checking his figure in the mirror, I to feel an unusual sense of empathy towards all referee's in general. Don't get me wrong, I am among the first to hurl verbal abuse at them through the TV, before the rationale of them obviously not being able to hear me enters my mind (when will they make TV's with two way audio so that I don't look psychotic??), but I can't help but feel they have way too much expectation heaped upon them. When you have the worlds eyes judging your every decision in HD, replays and slow motion, who then also needs the added worries of tacking on the right amount of additional -additional- time.

I say take away at least the time keeping responsibilities from referee's. Install a timer that has the uncanny ability to stop when needed, and signals the end of the half/game with a very clear horn blast. Mind you, it doesn't have to be a horn blast, I'm sure their are plenty of creative noises that could be used, such as Sir Alex Ferguson shouting one word profanities. That would do it. This way, ref's could concentrate on trying to make the right decisions instead of fretting over when to blow up for full time. The accuracy of their decisions can be assisted later, via video replay, but for now baby steps, one thing at a time.

This unprecedented, abrupt way to bringing games to a grinding halt will also prevent managers cowardly pointing at their Rolex's when sweating under the heat of the post match press box lights and camera's, as excuses slip their minds. Instead, they can moan about their own teams defensive lapses. For example, Where was Micah Richards when Owen slipped in that winner, and why on earth didn't Tevez boot the ball into the opposite stand when he had the chance? I await your answer Mr. Hughes.

Anyway, as progress in the governing bodies of Football seems to move at an excruciating slow pace, I'm sure my legislative reforms will take a while to churn through the cogs of bureaucracy, so for now I'm off to put Alan Wiley through his paces by chasing him with a butchers dog. One preferably from a Europe, like a German Sheppard. They must be from Germany right??

Champions Hangover

Fionn MacCools 1-5 Sierra Stars

Celtic awoke from their League Champions exploits, with a banging hangover and were greeted by a sobering defeat at the hands of old favourite Sierra Stars. I suggest sipping, or rather, gulping Champagne, while reading this, but I will keep it short and sweet.

Minds may have been preoccupied with tuxedo fittings and hunting down a WAG or two for the Champions Ball, but in fairness to Celtic the score line was a tad on the flattering side, as they had started brightly matching their opponents, trailing at half time to a single, exceptional goal by the Sierra number 5, who seemed to dance and skip his way from the half way line, and had the legs to finish. Hats off.

In the second half the game remained equally as competitive and after enjoying a healthy proportion of possession, Celtic were unlucky to concede for the second time. Still, trailing by two goals, and with nothing to lose now, Celtic kept fighting away, and were rewarded after Carney, caused problems for the Sierra defense from a set piece and was fouled just as he leaped for a ball he had no right contesting for.

Carney's determination paid dividends, and Barrero neatly tucked away from the spot, giving Celtic a foot hold back in the game, and enough to unsettle the nerves of Sierra.

Unfortunately the fight back didn't last long, as Sierra soon restored their 2 goal lead, all but extinguishing Celtic's hopes of an unprecedented double at the same time. At this point, with Celtic pushing way up the field in a desperate attempt to put the pressure back on Sierra, the flood gates opened and Sierra scored their fourth, fifth and possibly six (I stop counting after four goals as denial kicks in, saving me from the pain. Who has the will to correct me anyway?) in as many minutes.

And thats how it ended. Rather a low key way to end what has still obviously been a fantastic season for Celtic, but really, who needed that Micky Mouse cup anyway? Once you have won it, the second time would just have been embarrassing, an unsightly stain on your pristine white shirt, when collecting your League Champions medal. Bitter? Nah!

One last word, Celtic will be bidding farewell to Sacha Stuckmann, who will literally leave enormous boots to fill, as he returns to his native Germany. Apparently, Celtic couldn't match the lucrative contract on offer, even with all the League Champions money now billowing out of their coffers. Auf Wiedersehen.

Celtic Crowned CHAMPIONS!!

In a day when the Celtic traveling contingency outnumbered both Morton and KU Golden Oldies supporters 5-1 even though the famous hoops were not on display, history was made as Celtic claimed their first TSSL League title amidst a raucous atmosphere at Eglinton flats, sparking celebrations not seen since Lisbon 67'.

Before we get in to the nitty gritty of this remarkable feat, which hinged on the final game of the season, I would like to go back a couple of weeks when Celtic had two remaining games left of which both had to be won. The first of the two games was against the much fancied fellow title contenders Multinational, whom had beaten Celtic in the first encounter 1-0 and were debutantes in the Media League this term. Celtic were well aware of the importance of the Multinational game, and the objective was crystal clear: Must win. No more room for errors, a drew would not be enough, victory was the only option, clearly, this was the last chance saloon.

Multinational 0-1 Fionn MacCool's Celtic

To add to Celtic's already mammoth task, due to injuries and players going AWOL, the back line was down to the bare bones, and was patched together with what ever reinforcements that manager Tibby could get his hands on. In these types of situations, you need to be able to call on the senior payers and more specifically your captain, to grab the game by the scruff of the neck and drag the team over the line -kicking and screaming if necessary. Luckily for Celtic, their Captain, Jason Mercier heard the call, and yet again put in a barnstorming performance, leading from the back and keeping the Celtic defense water tight for a solid 90+ minutes.

At the opposite end of the field, where again injuries were limiting Tibby's options, Fitzpatrick had been handed a starting birth partnering Teague up front. Whether Tibby's hand had been forced to play Fitzpatrick up front or whether it was sheer divine intuition, Fitzpatrick wasn't hanging around for an answer and seized the opportunity with barely 5 minutes on the clock, with Celtics first attack of the game.

Multinational had been controlling the tempo of the game and were confidently stroking the ball around with short intricate passes. However, against the run of play, Celtic managed to muster an attack down the left wing through Bredin. The rangy left wingers gallop had left him deep in Multinational territory with both Teague and Fitzpatrick screaming for the square ball. Bredin obliged, with a pass that look like it was intended for Teague but strayed behind the Englishman's run. However, the pass deceived not only Teague, but the rest of the Multinational back line, splitting it in two leaving Fitzpatrick clean through on the overlap. With the goal keeper rushing off his line, Fitzpatrick skillfully (not a word I use lightly!) rounded the keeper, and then from the most acute of angles rolled the ball over the line, leaving the trailing goalkeeper and defender in his wake. This was a huge life line, and it proved that Fitzpatrick had a healthy appetite when it came to the big occasion. The importance of the goal was up there with his match winner in the cup final the previous year, but this time, and much to the relief of the bench, Fitzpatrick kept his shirt on, opting against the explicit triple X celebrations.

After the Goal Multinational continued to dominate possession, but for all the slick passing on display failed to create any real end product. There was, however a sense that should they continue to boss proceedings in the second half, it would only be a matter of time before the possession would yield goals. A threat Tibby recognised all to well, as he look to reinvigorate Celtic during the half time team talk.

Sitting on the one goal advantage and soaking up the pressure was a risky game, and in the second half Celtic finally crept from out of their defensive shell and began knocking on Multinationals door. First up, Curley came close after been put through by an instinctive through ball from Barrero. Curley latched on to the pass, and with the keeper again looking to close the angle, deftly lobbed the ball over his advances only to see the ball pass inch's wide of the up right.

With the game becoming more open as both teams looked for the decisive second goal, Multinational managed to register their first shot on target, but Fourie was equal to it, tipping over the bar from close range.

As the minutes ticked away, the game was drawing to angonising close with both teams having great chances. With the Multinational back line pushing up close to the half way line they were prone to passes in behind. And first to exploit this was Lucero, after being put clean through only to be denied one on one with the goalkeeper. Next up Teague, with almost an identical chance as Lucero was foiled by the keeper, who at this point was keeping his side in the game. Teague then had an another opportunity to seal Multinationals fate only for a last ditch tackle to keep them in with a shout.

Much to the relief of Teague, and owing a huge debt to the magnificent Celtic back line a clean was kept, and Celtic had achieved the must win they set out for.

Zoomer FC 0-5 Fionn MacCool's Celtic

The objective in this one: "Don't do a Zoomer."

Although the score line would suggest an even more entertaining game then the Multinational match, do not be fooled by the books cover. Zoomer, with little to play for than bragging rights to middle table mediocrity, had about as much motivation for this encounter as I do for mental arithmetic. Which, in terms of numbers, equated to 9 or possibly ten men -what difference does it make- sheepishly displaying a 4-3-1 formation that was never going to trouble Celtic.

At least that's what we thought. Perhaps, knowing Celtics Achilles heel, which is play badly and Celtic will drop to your standard was Zoomer's cunning plan. What ever the reason, Celtic managed to make hard work out of the depleted Zoomer, and it wasnt until the second half, with the Zoomer tiring, that Celtic really drove home their numerical advantage.

Highlights of the game included, a brace by Curley, who would have pinched a hatrick had it not been for Teague sabotaging a goal bound effort, clearing the bar from a yard out with a dismal header, such was his level of desperation to get on the score sheet. Although, who really needs to hear about a Curley hatrick anyway?! Your welcome.

The other key moments came from, Bredin who managed to get on the score sheet as well, bringing his drought to an end, after being put thorugh with a punched like pass from Teague which has suspciions of being off offside. Prior drove in a clean finish after finding his range, and, Bredin retruned the favour to Teague with a square ball inside the box, which Teague tucked away, much to his relief.

So, in terms of quality, the two games were at opposite ends of the spectrum. But, the points had been secured and now Celtic had to sit and wait for two agonising weeks, while KU finished up their schedule, whilst knowing that KU at least had to draw one of their two remaining gmaes for Celtic to then win on goal difference. After winning 3-1 in their penultimate game, the worst was feared as the opposition for their last game was our old foe Morton, who similar to Zoomer had little to play for as their final league position was all but set.

And, that theory at least at half time, with Morton 2-0 down would seem like a sound bet. However, from the Morse code updates I was receiving, depsite being two goals down, Morton had played the better football in the first half. And, they continued the second in much the same vain. It would, however, take until 10 minutes from time to give the Celtic traveling suporters some hope to cling to.

After being two goals to the good the KU manager, in his naivety, made a quadruple substitution including the goalkeeper. And it would be the change in keeper, that ultimately would lead to their down fall. After what looked like a routine save found its way in to the net through the keepers butter like fingers, Morton sensed a comeback. And, on 90 minutes, with Celtic's hopes of league title glory in the balance, Morton delivered the shattering blow to KU, via a freekick awarded just outside the box, that smacked the post but fell kindly to Morton who duly tapped home.

Who needs the Premier league? Pfff! You could not ask for a more dramatic ending to a fantastic season, which finally sees Celtic get their hands on the elusive League title, which slipped through their grips this time last season, ironically due to a no-show from KU. Bitter sweet.
I could ramble on, and continue to throw superlatives on what has been a season full of highs and lows, but their is little more satisfying than kicking back and gazing at the league table, Celtic atop.

Club GP W D L GF GA +/- Pts Fionn MacCool's Celtic 18 12 4 2 51 12 39 40 KU Golden Oldies 18 12 4 2 55 29 26 40 Sierra Stars 18 12 2 4 52 19 33 38 Multinational Crew 18 9 5 4 48 21 27 32 Morton 18 9 4 5 55 26 29 31 Zoomer FC 18 6 4 8 32 39 -7 22 Hooligan Filmworks 18 5 4 9 32 28 4 19 Globe and Mail FC 18 5 2 11 36 40 -4 17 AS Rosso 18 5 1 12 35 55 -20 16 Trinity Park FC 18 0 0 18 8 135 -127 0

Oh my god, the FA banned Kenny!

What started out as a cold, and a couple of days recouping in bed with a box of cold medicine, has turned into a 9 month ban for Sheffield United Goalkeeper, Paddy Kenny, after testing positive for the banned substance ephedrine.

I still can not fathom exactly what the FA's message is with this harsh 9 month ban. "Don't reach for the nearest cold remedy when you get the sniffles? Otherwise you will end up with a worse ban than not even showing up for a drugs test." How did Rio get away with that one? The crime, rather the indiscretion, simply does not match the punishment.

The FA's Regulatory Commission chairman, Christopher Quinlan stated, "Whilst we found that the player satisfied us on the balance of probabilities that the substance was not taken with the intention of enhancing sporting performance, his admitted conduct displayed significant fault." Lets be honest, the stereotype of Footballers not being the sharpest tool in the shed, holds plenty of weight to it, and acts like this do little to dissipate those theories, but he could be forgiven for failing to check the entire ingredients label of a cold remedy bought over the counter at the local superdrug before popping a few. Reading the usage instructions is challenging enough when you have a head that feels like its in a vice.

Paddy's "admitted conduct," displayed the actions of what most people would do in the same situation, including all the staff in the FA's regulatory commission. Yes, maybe he was a little bit liberal with his dosage, but the intention was not to enhance his performance. So a 9 month ban during which he is not even allowed to train with any professional team, is excessive to say the very least. Maybe, the FA can have a word with UEFA and swap Eduardo's two game ban with Kenny's 9 month maternity. Put it this way I would rather see the law come down seriously and consistanly with cheating that is caught in broad daylight through the HD lenses every weekend around Premier League venues, rather than an oversight with cold medicine.