HAUL BELIEVED TO BE OVER £20M…SNATCHED FROM UNDER EMPLOYER’S NOSE AFTER FOUR YEAR DECEPTION…BOSS CONFESSES “WE NEVER UNDERSTOOD HIM BECAUSE HE COULD NOT SPEAK ENGLISH!”…BELIEVED TO BE ON A BEACH SOMEWHERE IN ITALY!
Oh what a tragedy! I sat down last night expecting to get a full update on the day’s news; had Greece finally gone belly up yet? Had Russia or China discovered some moral fibre at last meaning we would be spending a few more hundred million bombing Syria this time – not necessarily a bad thing trade-wise as at least we could prove how good our fighter plane was to India as the French planes did what they do best and sat on tarmac – or had Ed Miliband actually said anything sensible today?
And yet although I heard the words “ethical” and “moral” being mentioned numerous times it was not in connection with anything remotely important. It was about the stupidly meaningless industry of football, an industry unchallenged by its bloated sense of self-importance and rotten from the top down. The Football Association (FA) had decided to part company with the England national team manager, the Italian Fabio Capello. This curtailed a four year contract reputedly worth £6m per year several months before its anticipated termination after England’s traditional early exit from a major tournament – this one being the 2012 European Championships in Poland and the Ukraine this summer.
The FA… Ethical?
The FA had invoked a clause in his contract that allowed them to claim the moral high ground following Capello’s strange defence of his captain, the odious thug and cart-horse of a centre half, John Terry, due to stand trial in the summer, conveniently after Euro 2012, on charges of racism. Excuse me but this a game run from the very top by the repellent Sepp Blatter, a man who makes Terry look like Mother Theresa in comparison. No matter as Sky Sports’ Nick Powell, eyes bulging, looked like he had been given the most important bit of world news for decades commanding centre stage on Sky News as reporters were despatched everywhere. Meanwhile in Syria, the Sky man sat under a table as bombs crashed down wondering why nobody was calling him tonight for an update.
I don’t want to take the easy way out by alluding to the Italian trait of an early retreat but having coined in most of his Wonga why waste a summer traversing two Eastern European hell holes trying to manage a third rate international football team with Wayne Rooney to baby-sit? Good old Fabio, having stuffed the inept FA Board for a cool £24m it is clearly now time for the Riviera; who could blame him? And the Messiah trumpeted to save the day – hang fire here – Harry Redknapp, somebody I would not buy a second hand car from.
Jamie Gets Thomas Cook to Open in the Ukraine
It will get worse I promise. King Harry will be wheeled probably straight from his recent acquittal on tax evasion for an instant coronation and will immediately appoint the following; son Jamie will take on role of Team Media Relations and sponsorship deals; the Beckhams will be invited to take on the roles of team captain and trainer although who would do what is not quite clear and Wayne Rooney will be appointed spiritual leader. The outpouring of demands for the successor to be English were constant presumably as the last couple of incumbents cost a king’s ransom and seemed oblivious whether or not they were called a “turnip” as Graham Taylor was many years ago.
Of course in this modern world of instant communication the players were quick to express their earth shattering opinions most using Twitter which given its limit of 140 characters suits most footballers’ average command of the English language. World luminaries such as Joey Barton and Rio Ferdinand had their “tweets” aired for us all to digest. After three quarters of an hour watching this drivel as I started this article I gave in and reached for BBC News 24…guess what…same drivel.
The Dirty Old Game
England are a very, very average international football team having won absolutely nothing since 1966 when those that were born watched us edge out the West Germans at Wembley four goals to two. Since then diddly squat despite in the last twenty years, with the explosion of Sky TV money into the modern game, more highs and lows than a seaside roller coaster. And equally as much farce as a seaside funfair.
Over the last two decades the game had begun to insult my senses, awash with cash and detached from the ordinary man far, far more than the much more pilloried banking industry. And the gravy train just kept getting bigger and bigger; today it’s ugly, meaningless and has no right to use words such as “ethical” or “moral”. Years ago I simply stopped watching.
Many, many years ago the late and legendary George Best was famously asked “where did it all go wrong George” as he sat on a hotel bed, champagne close by and with a former Miss World in his shower. Could anybody have contemplated how ugly the so-called beautiful game would ever get?
Paul Thompson says
Very Good Buddy and spot-on! I myself have lost all interest in premier football always looking for the results on a Sunday for The Shaymen, The minster men and of course the mighty bantams and that’s where my interest ends. Much prefer watching my nephews on a sunday afternoon!
Steve says
Who wants to watch a fat Argie in a scarf anyway?