RIP Gary Speed

I usually try to make anything I write interesting. Try being the main word. You can’t fault a try-er. Much has been said about Gary Speed, but here’s my little take on the situation I found myself in this afternoon.

I was walking by Bramall Lane on my way to interview some people at a homeless shelter (I know, what a joyful day), and saw a shrine in the main car park. A shrine I have seen pictures of on the internet. I popped by to see it for myself. I took the picture below.

The shrine starts at one statue (Joe Shaw) and finishes at another (Derek Hooley). It’s about 10m long. I took my headphones out my ears and started viewing the tributes from one end. Flowers, pictures, shirts, scarves.  It’s very rare I get a lump in my throat (apart from the constant one that is my Adams apple), but on this occasion I did. It was deftly silent. The rain had soaked many items through, but the messages and colour still stood out.

I was then joined  by a middle aged woman, a teenager, and an old couple who replaced some old flowers with a new bunch. Then a mother and her son turned up. Her son was about 8 and he had an a4 sheet of paper with a photo of Gary Speed on it. On it he had written “Sleep tight with the angels Gary. I’ll miss you”. The moment was ruined slightly when the sheet blew off. At 8 years old one would imagine someone would be aware that paper blows away in wind, but, it was no problem. His mum weighted it down with a bunch of flowers and called her son a wally.

Sheffield United items led the way, but also on show were Newcastle shirts, Leeds shirts and Sheffield Wednesday scarves. Any other time, these items would have probably been urinated or spat on.  Not on this occasion.

On my way out I passed a vessel who goes to the gym I go to. He's a security man for Sheffield Hallam University and is the biggest man to go in the gym. When he comes in, I quickly go out, because he puts what I can lift to shame. He has a shaved head, tattoo’s all over, and has enough muscle to rival Fatima Whitbread. You simply do not mess with his type. He turned up to the shrine with his young daughter to pay his respects. He’s a Sheffield Wednesday fan.

I brushed shoulders with Gary Speed at Pride Park in September for the John Hartson charity match. I was armed with a FlashMic ready to interview all the famous people, but I was too star struck to say anything to him. He stood out.

I’ll never forget the Sunday just gone. Never before has the death of a famous person got to me, but this one did. It ruined my Sunday.

RIP Gary Speed.

An insight into the life of a West Ham hooligan

I sat down on the train after a hectic afternoon, hoping for a peaceful journey. In front of me two Hull City fans were being congratulated by the most infuriating Red Dog for their victory over the Rams. A talking dog on the train? A red talking dog on the train? Nope, just a Forest fan, unfortunately. I shook my head to let the neutrals on the train know I disapproved of this stupid adolescent, and it was from here I gained an insight into the mind of a West Ham hooligan first hand.

“Is anyone sat here?” he said. “Not that i’m aware of” I replied. “Fuck em” he charmingly said back, and plonked himself down. There was no-one sat there, so why he felt he needed to “fuck em” I’ll never know.

“You not a Forest fan then?” he said. After explaining in a few words my thoughts on Nottingham Forest, he chuckled and told me he’d been to Coventry supporting the ‘Appy ‘Ammers. This chap: Bald head, Stone Island jacket covering a ‘going out’ shirt, his body riddled in tattoo’s. The combinations spell out ‘hooligan’, don’t they? One particular tattoo really grabbed my attention. On his ear, the bit that gets pierced, was a green/blue mess. I thought the poor man had a disease where mould infested his body. About 15 minutes later after I plucked up the courage to look again and realised it was a tat. Panic over.

I asked him how it was at Coventry, knowing that the Hammers had taken almost 7,000 fans. I was expecting him to give me a bit of a match report, but what I got was “Ahh fuckin nuts. Kicked off under the stand. Went down and police were being heavy handed, putting barriers up, so we just kicked the fuckers down. Too many of us. Brilliant”. Gone were my hopes of wondering how Carlton Cole played, or if Rob Green had made yet another howler, this journey was going to be about hooliganism. And whilst I don’t condone hooliganism (in the slightest), I do find it fascinating.

I chanced my arm. “You go to Millwall then this season?” He did, so I followed up with asking how it was. “Fuckin quiet. There were too many of us”. At this point I was thinking, “ang on, too many of you, but it was quiet?”, but obviously we were on different wavelengths. “We said we’d meet em on Tower Bridge, but they just ran off. Too many of us, we’d have slaughtered them. We’d arranged it before but they just didn’t fancy it”.

I asked about policing, because West Ham v Millwall is notoriously disgusting for fan behaviour. “They were alright. They gathered us up at Stratford Station, and told us we could take our beer on the tube with us. Worked out better for them. Cause if they’d have tried to stop us it would have got nasty”. He continued “I just walked into the ground (at Millwall) without a ticket. I told a copper I was waiting for my mate who brings me tickets every week (for this chap lives up North) but we’d got separated by the police and couldn’t leave their escort. The copper told me to just go in ‘cause we aren’t leaving any of your lot out here on the streets’”. Brave move from the police.

“I hope they let us take 5,000 to Leeds. They can’t cope with us up there. Last time 500 of us walked out early and the police didn’t know what to do. Leeds fans were nowhere to be seen. Too many of us”. This hooligan business seems to be about safety in numbers.

His mate rang him to say he was arriving in Heuston, so the journalistic side of me started twitching. “How come you’re returning to Yorkshire on your own? How did you start supporting West Ham? Fami...”.
“I just liked the colours when I was young. Supported em ever since. Got to support your team haven’t you? Started going on my own and met the lads through years of going”. Forgetting the fact this chap likes a scrap at football, I admire how he had the balls to just travel up and down on his own for years. His knowledge of football was also excellent.

Conversation moved on to me living in Sheffield. “I’m in Sheffield next week for a clothes show” he said. I asked him what that was in aid of, as this wasn’t a man I associated with catwalks. “Me and my mate hire pubs out, buy clothes and then sell em on. We’re doing it with some of the BBC boys”. Just as I was about to say “Ahh i’ve worked for the BBC today actually, answering phones from angry Derby fans” I had a moment of inspiration that spared my blushes. There are two meanings for BBC. Bristish Broadcasting Corporation, and the Blades Business Crew. I realised he was on about the Sheffield United hooligan firm. I have read books about the BBC, so asked this chap if they are still going. He twitched his head, did a funny thing with his lips and said yes. He confirmed the fact they are ‘nasty fuckers’.

I then asked if they get on with each other, and whilst his answer didn’t make me feel like they exchange Christmas cards, he said that they do get on. I imagine they’ve had a good scrap over Carlos Tevez though.

The train pulled into Sheffield. I squeezed past my mate (I believe if you can hold conversation for 40 minutes with someone then you are mates) and told him I enjoyed the chat, and I wasn’t lying. I’d quite like to do a series where I integrate with hooligans (what’s that? Louis Theroux, Ross Kemp and Danny Dyer have already done that?). “Yeah mate. See ya. Good luck” he said.

Good luck with what?

Every Little Helps

I have been going to Tesco Metro in Sheffield now for 2 and a half years, in my quest to stay alive through the consumption of food and drink. They say Tesco will take over the country. I don’t know who ‘they’ are, but they do say it, honestly. Before Tesco contemplate nationwide domination though they need to speak to me about a few of their offers. And I’m going to share the best one’s with you, cause I’m really that nice.

1)     Lager

      Allow me to start off with the classic, will you? My friends (both real and of the Facebook variety) may already know this one as I have harped on about it in the past, but it’s a good’un. 4 cans of Carling for £2.99 instead of £3! Alcoholics across South Yorkshire would have been making pilgrimages to Ecclesall Road to stock up on this offer had I alerted them. I presume the NHS weren’t too happy though, because if people know they can save 1 pence per 4 cans, they’re going to binge drink, aren’t they?

I think I went for the 4 cans of Fosters option in the end, to allow those less fortunate than me to take the reduced Carling.

2)      Pate

Pate has a strange accent above either the a or e but I don’t know how to get them up on here. Anyway, fancied some pate today to have on toast instead of Tesco’s wheat biscuits (Weetabix) in the mornings. I was delighted to see it advertised for 59p. Next to it was a boast that it’s the same price as Aldi. Well that’s not telling us anything is it? It’s neither cheaper nor more expensive than budget supermarket Aldi. Surely a supermarket that is going to take over civilisation has bigger fish to fry? I liken it to a modelling agency offering an hour of my services for the same price as an hour of David Beckham’s services.  I wanted to take a photo but I was surrounded by shelf-stockers and feared they’d throw me outside to stand with the singing Big Issue man.

“Good morrrrning, Big Issue, have a nice dayyyy. Good morrrrning, it’s a lovely day, have a nice day sirrrr Big Issue”

3)      Kiwi’s

You can get a box of 6 kiwi’s for £1. In the 2 and a half years i’ve been shopping in Tesco, there’s been a yellow price tag saying ‘£1. SAVE 49P’. It makes me think that Kiwi’s always have been, and always will be, £1.

4)      Tissues

Another cracker here. I’ve been unfortunate to contract the common cold this week. It’s a partially debilitating virus that robs one of their dignity. A box of tissues was in order to cope with the outpoor of what can only be described as snot. The shelf stockers were nowhere to be seen so I can share pictorial evidence with you. And once again, the folk at Tesco have come up with an offer too good to refuse. I managed to get my box of 100 2ply mansize tissues for £1.60. Had my cold arrived a week earlier, who knows, I may have had to pay £1.61?!?!

All week i’ve been counting my lucky stars for the timing of my cold. What a price drop!

5)      Fish fingers

This is my favourite of all. No picture evidence I’m afraid though cause this offer was spotted on a busy Saturday. The fear of standing outside with the Big Issue man must have been at the forefront of my mind again. Anyway, over in the freezer section they had an incredible offer on. Birdseye Fish Fingers. 99p for a box of 10, or two boxes for £2!!! Well, my heart nearly skipped a beat. Thankfully it didn’t cause I wouldn’t be alive to tell the story if it did. What an offer! Fish finger lovers in Sheffield must have had a field day. I didn’t take them up on the offer for some reason, but if I had it would have been a case of...
“Hello duck, can I have these two boxes of fish fingers please, but I want to buy them separately, ya know, to save me 2 pence”

Every Little Helps.

GREEN ARMY!

Plymouth away is a trek that only the hardiest of football fans will embark on. It is the furthest south, and the furthest west ground in the country, so unless you’re from Exeter or Torquay, you’re in for a journey. When Newcastle took a hiatus from the Premiership a year or two back, they travelled to Plymouth by plane such is the ridiculous distance between the two. I’ve been to Plymouth twice to watch Derby, and the journey by car is a rather bland one, so if you can afford to fly you’re probably better off doing that. If not make sure you’ve got some nice sucky sweets and a few decent cd’s, or a funny friend.

Don’t let the journey put you off though because to landlocked citizens, Plymouth is a lovely place. I’d advise a walk to the Hoe to grab some of that sea air that is meant to cure you of your ailments (just for the record, that’s a myth). You get lovely views out to sea from the Hoe and a glimpse at Plymouths military activity. A walk along the Barbican (streets surrounding the harbour) is also advisable, if only to get some fish and chips. It’s a nice part of the city.

If you take my advice and go to my suggested places of interest, be wary that Home Park is a sizeable walk, and it’s high up, so make sure you are wearing comfortable shoes and trousers; blisters and chafing put a dampener on things. If you’re driving and happen to have a phobia of Plymouth and intend on only seeing the match itself, you’re lucky, because there is a large free car park at the ground. Get there in good time though, if you can stand to be in Plymouth that long. If you don’t have a phobia of Plymouth (i’m not sure Plymophobia is widespread) then street parking is also available for miles around. If you travel by train, once again, wear something comfortable because the station is a good 1.5 miles away. I’ll not give you directions because that’s what Google Maps gets paid to do.

At the ground, get yourself a pasty. Plymouth isn’t quite in Cornwall, but their Cornish pasties do the neighbouring county proud. The hot dogs and burgers are standard (according to those who went down that option). Beer is served in plastic cups and isn’t cheap, but i’m assured nothing is cheap down south. Coca Cola rots teeth, but should you like some of that to drink, they do sell it, along with other soft drinks.

The away end. It’s fully seated (as is the rest of the stadium) with a roof over your head. What more can you ask for? You are situated in the Barn Park Away End, which is behind a goal and there are no viewing restrictions. You will be sat in the left of the stand, unless your team can muster a decent travelling support, in which case you will probably have the whole use of the stand. Seating tends to be unreserved so if you get there early you can pick your spot. If you want to stand, go to the back and you shouldn’t be troubled by the power hungry stewards.

To the left, in the nearest part of the Grandstand, your eyes and ears are greeted by some of the more angry Plymouth fans; the Green Army, or as I refer to them, chavs. A few of them have paid money for season tickets in swearing and goading the away fans (most teams have them). There is no roof on the particular part that the chav brigade stand in, so if your team ever happens to be winning 3-0 and it starts raining, they soon waddle off after wishing you a lovely night with their nice hand gestures. Don’t be alarmed if you are taking children though as the stands aren’t connected and they pose no real threat. The most vocal support comes from the corner to the right, but they are too far away to have any banter with; they might as well be in Cornwall. As a whole, atmosphere in the ground wasn’t fantastic on either visit, but the club was starting their long road to almost liquidation back then, so i’m not too sure i’d be making a song and dance either.

Me and 8 other males visited Home Park on the last occasion, and from memory 6 of us were wearing Derby County apparel. Some of the Green Army appeared to be on day release from Her Majesty’s local prison, and started following us after the match. We stood by the train station to have our picture taken by a big PLYMOUTH sign, don’t know why, but this gave them valuable time to catch up. Once they did, they walked through us in an intimidating fashion, but the tags around their ankles probably gave them a reminder they needed to behave. So, if you plan on wearing your colours, it’s fine, because as in life, the majority of people in Plymouth are nice, but just keep your wits about you.

Most pubs in the centre looked as if they would accept all comers. The Roundabout pub; If you are looking for acceptance in life, go there, because they don’t discriminate between football teams when they are taking your money for fantastic all-day breakfasts and pints of lager. It’s a city though there’s plenty of choice.

I’d advise going to Plymouth. My mates and I had a great time. If you have a young family, make a weekend of it. If you don’t have a young family, there’s plenty of time left yet so don’t worry.

Green Army!!

As an away day experience...8/10

Do you agree? Let me know below.

The Steel City Derby (fan)

It was Steel City derby day yesterday, and I woke up earlier than anticipated, but that was more to desperately empty the contents of my bladder rather than in excitement. As a Derby County fan I didn’t have the proverbial butterflies in my pre-match stomach, but, instead I was actually looking forward to sampling a hostile rivalry as a neutral, for I haven’t once enjoyed a Derby v Forest match due to nerves. I wasn’t as neutral as I’d liked to have been for this match, but more about that later.

Why would a Derby fan want to go to a League 1 match? Fear not as I am about to explain.  My housemate text me on Friday asking my thoughts about going to the match, as we both love football, and in particular, football rivalries (please note, he was at work; we tend to communicate via the spoken word when in each others company). This put the notion in my head, and I fancied it. A friend of mine once said “Life is what ya mek it, chief”. Whilst I didn’t want to make my life a Sheffield derby, I did want to make my Sunday a Sheffield derby, so I agreed.

And what about getting tickets? Sheffield United had a strict policy about those who qualified to buy tickets. Tom assured me he had bought home tickets from Brammall Lane before so we would be alright. A 45 minute walk and a nasty blister on my left foot later, we were walking out of the ticket office deflated and empty handed. Tom’s name was not on the database afterall. Just as I was telling myself the money I’d saved could buy me Noel Gallagher’s new album, a car full of lads drove by saying they could help us, telling us to meet them in the lay-by. We were either going to get abducted and killed, or receive vital information in our quest to get tickets. As i’m still writing this, you know which scenario occurred. They were top lads, cheers Ducky and co, whoever you are.

Brammall Lane and the area that it is situated in, if you didn’t know, is not superb. The way i’d usually get to the ground would involve passing the away end and the 5,000 Wednesday fans. I didn’t fancy getting embroiled in turf wars with Blades, Owls and police, so we took a different route; a route that involved walking through streets that haven’t yet moved out of the 70’s. Boarded up houses and flats, broken glass littering the floors, and not a lick of paint in sight.

The Kop end at the Lane yesterday also felt like I’d been transported back to the 70’s. Firstly you scan your tickets to get into the premises, and then you enter a courtyard of toilets and catering, with the stadium a little further along. Yorkshire chatter, smoke and a general greyness filled the air, whilst pies and pints appeared to be order of the day. I looked up to try and transport myself out of the 70’s, only to see the run-down concrete main stand of Brammall Lane.  An old fashioned ground in every sense of the word, but one that can generate a great atmosphere.

The only tickets left by the time we got to purchasing them were in the Kop and had ‘restricted view’ written on them. The only warning that should have been on the tickets was ‘you may be surrounded by hooligans’. Having only ever been in the away end, I had been warned the Kop was home to some of Sheffield’s less pleasant characters. Cue a big man next to me who came in swearing and smoking. “Naughty boy, you can’t smoke in stadiums” I almost considered telling him. Tom was stood next to a gangway with yellow lines on indicating this area should be kept clear. Cue the 30 men in the Stone Island gear standing there all match. “Go and sit in your seats and appreciate the football” is something that never crossed my mind to tell them. It was at this point I realised I had to support the Blades more than I’d hoped.

The atmosphere was hostile and intense, and up there with one of the best i’ve witnessed. United sing a song about a chip butty. It makes no sense to me but it was sung with great heart and affection by their faithful. United also sing some fairly unpleasant songs, and some state-the-obvious ones too. “United hate f***in Wednesday, HATE F***IN WEDNESDAY”.  My thoughts at this point were “why are you singing about yourselves in the third person?”

Shortly after kick off, the Kop united in sticking up fingers and pointing to their Wednesday counterparts (at the other end of the ground) singing “YOU’RE THE S**T PART OF SHEFFIELD”. I couldn’t help thinking I was stood with the s**t part of Sheffield. Soon after, United took the lead when the Ginger Messi, Stephen Quinn, scored after a deflection off the post. I raised my hands and clapped and smiled, but my efforts paled into insignificance to the people around me. Unpleasant as they were, I can’t blame them. I’ve celebrated similarly in the past when the Rams have scored against Forest.

2-0 soon after when Ched Evans headed past Stephen Bywater. In a bid to be a more convincing Blade, I even jumped up and down this time. We’re all Blades aren’t we? Half time and United fans were buzzing. The big chap next to me went to dry his sweaty head, and for a smoke too I presume.

“DIE DIE PIGGY PIGGY DIE” was the next chant from the Kop when a Wednesday player was down injured, along with a song about Jack Charlton being dead. The term piggy is used by both sets of fans as an insult to the other. The Blades direct it to the Owls as apparently Hillsborough once used to be a pig farm.  The Owls use it to the Blades because the red and white stripes resemble streaky bacon, apparently. I’m not sure a shared insult quite works.

82 minutes in and Sheffield Wednesday pressure paid off. The Blades sat on the lead, much to the annoyance of the sweating guy next to me. If his voice is working today then I can feed 5000 people with a loaf of bread and two fish). The moment the ball hit the back of the net, a plethora of swear words flew through the air, and my neighbour immediately lit up a fag. I’m assured cigarettes help with nerves, but they certainly don’t help with cancer.

 Four minutes after and Wednesday equalised. Blokes around me kicked seats, whilst at the other end the Wednesday fans, taking up both lower and upper tiers, absolutely erupted. The noise they made betrayed their official attendance, and from my distance, I can only relate my viewing to a big ants nest. So much movement and jumping in a crowded space. It was worth the money just to see such celebrations.

The police helicopter was circling above by now in anticipation of full time. The circumstances of the match and having been surrounded by such ‘interesting’ people made me want to smile - I’d seen 4 goals and witnessed my neighbours emotions climax and plummet. Had I done that though my death certificate (beaten and stampeded to death) would have probably been circulating round about now. I was an intruder in their patch, and I got away with it. The full time whistle went and for those around me it felt very much like a loss, whilst those at the other end were celebrating like they’d won.

On the streets immediately after we were walking by a young man in hooligan attire. A friend asked him “You going to The Sportsman mate?” He replied with “I’m going wherever I can find them”. Straight to the point; this guy was here for a fight. Had I been Ross Kemp or Louis Theroux, I’d have perhaps followed him. Had I been the police, I’d have perhaps arrested him. As I was me, I just went my own way. I feared for any Wednesday fan he found. He was angry.

Jamie Ward said the East Midlands and Sheffield derby were very similar, and after experiencing both as a fan, I tend to agree with him. I’m going to have to wait to buy Mr Gallagher’s album, but the experience of mixing with Sheffield’s finest on their biggest day of the season is one I enjoyed, and one I will remember for a long time. 

If England don't put a smile on your face, Wozniacki will

I woke up this morning both tired and happy. Tired because I’d been up til 1:30am watching my favourite tennis player Caroline Wozniacki ease through to the third round of the US Open. Rory McIlroy is a lucky lad – riddled in wonga, a golf course in his back garden , and he can now put ‘In a relationship with Caroline Wozniacki’ on Facebook, if he so pleases (although I suspect he has better things to do with his life). So that’s the tired part covered. The happy bit is simple; Wozniacki’s win means I can do it all again in a day or two. Come on you Delightful Dane you!

If i’m happy I try and balance things up; I think it’s something to do with being a pessimist. What better way than to click on a link on the BBC Sport website that says ‘Germany 4-1 England’? I don’t recommend you to do the same. I’m now as unhappy as a pig in a warm soapy bath.

I remember the swelteringly hot day vividly. I went to the pub kitted out in my new red England away shirt to meet my friends, drink some cheap pints and watch England play their way through to the quarters – our standard World Cup achievement. I think at the time the alcohol and sense of ‘we always get to the quarters’ brainwashed my mind into thinking we had a chance. As the highlights rolled up this morning, I can point out 6 main reasons we lost; Glenn Johnson, Gareth Barry, James Milner, Matt Upson, Jermaine Defoe and Fabio Capello. In my honest opinion (thanks for being honest, i’m sure you are saying right now), those 5 players are not players that will win you any international competitions, and the manager lacks qualities needed to be an England manager. You may view my inclusion of Defoe as harsh; I think he is a good quality Premier League player, but I draw the line at an international player that is good enough to compete with the top teams. Stop reading now if you hate my view that much, for pity’s sake.

The Frank Lampard goal that wasn’t, reignited a feeling of hatred inside me that Harry Potter fans must have felt towards Lord Voldemort when He Who Must Not Be Named was being nasty to Daniel Radcliffe’s alter-ego. I went hot, gritted my teeth and thought of Sepp Blatter laughing at us English (at no point did a scar on my forehead start hurting though). He doesn’t like us, and his pathetic refusal to put camera’s on goal lines ultimately robbed us of getting back to 2-2 and going on to lose via penalties; a much more honourable defeat. That is my view. Others believe had it been allowed we would have gone into half time buoyant and gone on to win. People who think that are wrong though. Germany were much the better team and all that disallowed goal did was make the more violent of the population scream about the Germans and the war. Joachim Loew’s team were younger, quicker, more productive on the ball and generally much better, and that’s where England can learn from them.

If the squad for the upcoming two games is anything to go by, then maybe Fabio has actually learnt from the Germans. Phil Jones, Chris Smalling, Tom Cleverly and Frank Fielding (Englands #1 (when Joe Hart and David Stockdale get injured)) have been called up. Add to this a fit Jack Wilshere and the squeaky clean Andy Carroll, and already you can see the team is looking much more fresh and youthful. These additions have also given me a new enthusiasm for watching England, as sadly in the past, watching Gareth Barry play for England stripped me of any enthusiasm. Nothing against G.Bazza, I just don’t think he should be playing for England. Hopefully by Euro 2012, Chris Smalling and Phil Jones will have had an excellent season with Man Utd and displace the massively over-rated and hugely disliked John Terry, and hospital dweller Rio Ferdinand. Rio does have quality when he is fit, but for me, and hopefully for you, seeing an England team dominated by talented youngsters, rather than the failed “golden generation”, is much more refreshing. Crikey, I seem a bit upbeat here, so let me remind you that these ‘talented youngsters’ I talk about failed this summer in the u21 European Championships. Never mind, hey.

Tonight I will be returning to the scene of last summer’s crime. I will turn up to the pub for some cheap pints and hope to see a good England performance from a young team.  This time i’d like to think that Mesut Ozil and Thomas Muller will not ruin my day, and if they do, then fair play to the Bulgarian FA for defying international law and managing to get the two German hotshots playing for their national team. I think we will win tonight, and beat Wales next week (the war-torn and natural disaster site of Haiti can apparently put out a better national team than Wales, although that is according to the same FIFA World Rankings that rank England better than Brazil, Argentina, Italy, France, Portugal and Uruguay). If we don’t win though, oh well. Just watch Caroline Wozniacki, she’ll  soon put a smile back on your face.

Emulating the success of bus drivers...

Greetings. It’s been a while hasn’t it? I’ve been trying to work out why it has been so long actually. The achievement of getting a work placement? The arrival of a table tennis table? A new cat we appear to have adopted? A lack of Microsoft Word on my new laptop? Lazyness? These have all been distractions or limiting factors, to put a scientific slant on things. All I can say is that, like Wayne Rooney’s hair, i’m back. And what better time to return than after a 100% start for Derby in the league?

My job involves me travelling by bus to spend my time around people who report on, commentate on and in general know an awful lot about the Rams. I’ve also met some of the players and management staff at the press conferences. It really is quite fascinating for someone who is quite easily star-struck like myself. The general consensus is that the new signings have fit in well and contributed towards a great team spirit at the club. A team spirit that has seen Derby hold on to one goal leads against Birmingham and Watford. A team spirit that has seen us win matches that we could well have drawn or lost last season. A team spirit that we don’t talk about when the Shrewsbury match is mentioned, I must add. Nigel Clough and co have obviously been watching the way the bus drivers develop team spirit.  Each time they pass a fellow bus driver, a hand goes up to acknowledge them, sometimes even an exaggerated wave (a sign of good friends). Whether it be on the other side of a duel carriageway, or the other side of the English channel, when a bus driver see’s a big bright orange/red/green people carrying device, they will stick their hand up. Great team spirit. When greetings are not exchanged, there are problems, big problems. The shooting of Archduke Franz Ferdinand started one major war; an unreturned greeting between bus drivers may cause another one in the future.

I digress. Why have Derby started off so well? The signing of Jason Shackell from Barnsley has been a very good one and a big reason for the good start. At over a million quid, it was a big piece of business for the Rams, but it backs up that obvious saying “you get what you pay for”.  On the bi-annual occasions I win a bet, I like to treat myself to a Saturday night Indian takeaway. It costs considerably more than it does to make it yourself with a Tesco jar of sauce (other brands are available), but crikey, it is incomparably better. You get what you pay for. There is a time for bargain shopping from the lower leagues (and Scotland), and then there is a time for spending (relatively) big.  For Derby to progress, there needs to be more Shackell type signings.  Don’t confuse this with “doing a Leicester” though, because there’s not a chance they can achieve the elusive bus driver type team spirit, and without that, they will struggle to get out the league, despite their overspending.

So far Shackell appears to be the best signing, but Frank Fielding adds a freshness to the back 5. The new boys from Scotland, Craig Bryson and Chris Maguire will show more of what they can (or can’t) do in the coming weeks. Chris Riggott has bundles of quality (how much a bundle is, i’m not sure), and if he can rid himself of the injuries that have plagued his career, he will be a great addition to the squad. If the Rams can get cover at both left and right back (Kilbane is too slow to be a left back and John Brayford surely can’t be superman for another season), then our defence will be one of the strongest in the league. Theo Robinson will be good the moment he realises he is not actually a headless chicken, and instead a footballer that needs to control a ball and utilise his speed more efficiently. Steve(n) Davies is finally showing what a quality player he is, and along with new signings Jamie Ward and Nathan Tyson (from our dearest neighbours), there are plenty of options up front.

What looks like really stopping the Rams from not joining the likes of Peterborough, Coventry and Doncaster in the race to League One, is injuries. There is a lot about nurses being unable to get work in the NHS. Send them to Moor Farm. They’ll be working in better conditions and will be riddled in work (I dare say at better pay too). As I write this, distracted by two cats trying to work out the others intentions, Derby could put out an injured 11, and with a few additions like Kieron Dyer and Jonathan Woodgate, it is an 11 that would be competitive in the Championship. So why all the injuries? Bad luck? Bad coaching? A combination of the two? No-one can put their finger on it, but if they could, that finger would probably end up broken.

Tomorrow night Derby travel to Blackpool. We will probably lose 2-0 as a result of the old dog Kevin Phillips, and people will then start worrying about relegation again, as a Derby fan should. This article is not to try and hype our chances up, it is merely to state that as a club, we have huge potential to actually do well. Our squad is strong in some areas, but needs quality additions in others. It’s make or break for Nigel too. If he can learn from his previous mistakes (of which there are many), then the Rams will perhaps surprise 93% of the country.  But the truth of the matter is, because of our good start, draw our remaining 44 games and we should, SHOULD, stay up, and sadly, that is all that is expected of us in the national media. Come on you Rams!

A Spot of Wimbledon

Last year my excuse for not getting a summer job was the World Cup. In hindsight, a summer job would have been preferable. This year, I have acquired a job, and thankfully it doesn’t start for a week or two, meaning that Wimbledon has been an ever present on the television. As far as enjoyment goes, it’s easily eclipsed the anti-climatic World Cup. The men’s final tomorrow is a fitting way to conclude it as well.

The British Andy Murray was looking exceptional all tournament, until he met Rafael Nadal yesterday. He is now out the tournament, and he is now Scottish again. Without doing any sort of official research, I’d say that 75% of the UK wanted the Scot to win. To keep up with the numbers game, I’d guess that 17% wanted Rafa to win due to their dislike of Murray, who, lets face it, comes across as quite grumpy. The other 8%, which I put myself in, would be the ‘I’d like to see a Brit in the final, but I much prefer Rafa, so whatever happens, I’m happy’.

So did Murray bottle it? In the past he has got to great positions in Grand Slams and not won any. Three Wimbledon finals in a row, three Grand Slam finals; you’d expect him to have converted at least one of them. Yesterday though I don’t think it’s fair to say Murray bottled it. Instead, it was more about Rafa showing why he is a great champion, a great person, and one of the greatest players of all time. In the first set Murray was unstoppable, playing like he was finally going to get to the final. The problem was that he was playing 100% and Rafa was at 80% (you’ll have to excuse my use of percentages in this article; it’s based on my opinion, not on pure maths). Then after the first set, Murray dropped to 85%, and Rafa started working his way up to 100%, or 5^th gear for all you car enthusiasts.

I unofficially rank myself at #1 in the world when it comes to table football; I can win matches at ease despite never hitting full throttle (or even using the goalkeeper), and Rafa is the same in tennis. The fact is that if Nadal plays at 80% (fourth gear) or above for 5 sets, he will beat his opponent, because his opponent would have to play at 100% the whole time, and that rarely happens. In the same way that Federer was magnanimous in defeat after the Tsonga match, Rafa was very humble, and almost apologetic in victory after the Murray match, realising that he had spoiled the party. Stupid questions are the norm after most sporting encounters (for example, today Sue Barker asked Wimbledon Champion Petra Kvitova if it was the best match she had ever played) but most questions aimed at Nadal last night were about Andy Murray, such is the nature of the British press. The Spaniard dealt with them very well, apart from the “What can Andy Murray do differently? How can he win a Grand Slam” question. The correct answer was “Myself, Roger and Novak must all retire or get injured for that to happen”, but instead Rafa continued to say how good Murray is and that he should hope for a bit of luck. Fair play Rafa, but Murray wasn’t unlucky; he was just outclassed.

Rafa’s opponent tomorrow, Novak Djokovic, is the man in form, with only one loss this year (against Federer in the French Open). There was some outstanding tennis on show between him and Tsonga in the semi’s, and the big Serb showed he has the complete game, along with a very decent range of flexibility and speed. Nole (pronounced No-lay) as his fans call him, has a very good record against Nadal recently, having beat him 4 times already this year. He’s progressed to the final after some tricky matches, yet the crowds seemed to be firmly supporting whoever he is opponents were. He doesn’t appear to have the same popularity as Rafa or Roger, but this year he has been better than the two of them. This doesn’t explain the rankings system however. Nadal went into Wimbledon as World Number 1, but as Djokovic has made the final he will top the rankings come Monday, even though Rafa has also made the final. Rocket science makes more sense than that.

So who is going to win tomorrow? Can Djokovic break the Roger and Rafa stranglehold on Wimbledon? Or will Rafa affirm his status as one of the all time greats? Have you got a spare £1? Would you like one of my infamous betting tips? Rafa to win 3-1. At odds of 3/1 that means it will return you just enough money to buy a small block of cheese, such is the extortionate price of what is essentially clotted milk.

Bye Bye Billy, Welcome Back (sort of) Shteve

This morning I woke up, had some weetabix and turned the television on to see a sports lovers delight; the yellow breaking news strap on Sky Sports News. It’s better than see the ‘lil red box of joy’ on Facebook. The first thing I saw on the rolling strap was Nottingh… In a split second I reminded myself it was the Carling Cup draw, and then prayed to a God that I don’t believe in that the next name was not Derby County. It wasn’t. Playing Forest has turned into a completely unpleasant affair since last season and I, along with many Derby fans who don’t let their pride and bravado get in the way, would rather not play them any more times than the compulsory two league fixtures. What in fact followed was Notts County. The grounds are the closest together in the country (a large goal kick away) and the gangsters that congregate around the Broadmarsh and Victoria shopping centres must already be planning ways in which they are going to be naughty on the match day. If memory serves me correctly there was a fair bit of crowd trouble the last time the teams met a few years ago in a pre-season friendly at Meadow Lane. It has got to be the tie of the round (although Leeds and Bradford fans will probably disagree) and no doubt Sky will pick it up. For those of you reading this and screaming at me that Derby and Forest couldn’t have been drawn together due to a seeding system, I know this now.

The sacking of the poison dwarf, as Billy Davies is affectionately known by the Preston and Derby fans, was a very bold move. There can’t be any doubting that wee Billy knows how to manage a team in the Championship and the last two seasons he took Forest very close to the Premier League. Some dodgy team selection and tactics in the playoff semi-finals proved his downfall. His prowess as a manager does not hide the fact that he is a thoroughly difficult man to work with though. To use one of Billy’s favourite phrases, he was ‘mischief making’ far too often for the board to put up with him anymore. The constant moaning about needing more transfer funds (despite him spending millions whilst in charge), must have been disheartening for the young Forest players who had done so well to get the club around the automatic and playoff spots. If he had shut his mouth a bit and focussed on what he had, he may still be in a job. Having said that, he won’t struggle to get another Championship job, for a year or two anyway, before he gets himself the sack, again.

So what about Forest’s new manager, for he was also appearing on Sky Sports News during my late breakfast? Steve McClaren, or Shteve as he is referred to by myself, is a very shrewd acquisition by the Forest chairmen Nigel Doughty. The reason I, and many others, refer to the former England boss as Shteve is due to his chameleon like approach to life. Wherever he finds himself in the world he adopts his accent (like a chameleon changes the colour of its skin depending on its surroundings). For example when he took over at FC Twente he started talking like a Dutchman (hence the Shteve). In his press conference today he was explaining a story he was telling to the Brazilian fitness coach he is taking with him to Forest. Usually when you tell a conversation as a story, you use your own voice for yourself, and change the accent to signify the other person. Not Steve. Astonishingly, he proceeded to explain Forest’s rivalry with Derby, Leicester and Notts County in a fantastic South American twang. Very humorous.

If you discount his record with England, no-one can doubt McClarens credentials as a manager. He won the Carling Cup with Middlesborough and took them to the UEFA Cup final, an incredible achievement considering the mess they are in now, playing in front of 15,000 people on a good day. He then won the Dutch League with FC Twente and led them to the Champions League. His stint at Wolfsburg was only a short one so it is perhaps unfair to judge this spell; managers need time to settle in (but 2 and a half years is enough settling in time Mr Clough). Aston Villa were about to interview McClaren until their fans did what they do best at the minute, complain. Having said that, the appointment of Alex Mcleish is shocking on every level so with that I can understand complaints. McClaren could have bided his time and returned straight to the Premier League; he would have got a job during this season. So why Forest? Well, in the press conference he listed a few reasons, and a point he made more than once was “This room…It smells of history and tradition”. Someone should take a bottle of Oust (or another brand of air freshener) to the City Ground and get that smell sorted. They should also tell Steve McClaren that the smell of a press room is not a good enough reason to take a job. My bedroom smells of whatever is being cooked in the kitchen below, but I am not convinced that the house was sold purely because of how my room smelt.

I think the point is that Forest are a big club, as much as it pains me to say it, and McClaren is in a very good position to complete a job that Billy couldn’t do. He will go about his business in a much quieter and dignified way. He will take Forest to near the Premier League again. He will also come back to haunt his old club, Derby, because that is generally what happens. Some Forest fans are not happy with the board sacking Billy; I can understand because I was disgusted when our board sacked him. The fact is that Billy has engineered his exit at all of his clubs. I predict two things; Forest will do very well under McClaren, and Forest fans will soon come to dislike Billy as much as the Preston and Derby fans do.

Are we rate, or what?

I used to play 11-a-side football at quite a high level with the high point in my career being trials at Derby County, Leicester City and Nottingham Forest. The trial at the latter club I also see as a low point – one should never betray their morals. I retired from football at the age of 18 when I moved to university. The gloves and boots however were to come out of retirement 3 years later for a spell in the 6-a-side university league. A defeat in the semi finals of the playoffs was hard to take but in my honest opinion, it was a worthy return to the sport; I’ve still got it (at least on the astro). So what about other sportsmen and women of the world, how do their comebacks rate against my triumphant return?

Let’s take Michael Schumacher as the first subject. Not only did my granddad think he was a very handsome man (for a German), he was hailed as the greatest driver of all time by most racing fans when he retired in 2006. The fact he was a 7 times World Champion (2 for Benetton, 5 for Ferrari) made this difficult to disagree with. A bizarre incident in 2009 saw a spring work its way from car to Ferrari’s Felipe Massa’s head. It was dangerously close to being fatal, but thankfully it wasn’t. Nonetheless, it ruled him out of the 2009 season. There was then a clamour for Schumacher to fill in for Massa. A sensational comeback seemed to be going to plan until Schumacher had to rule it out due to a bit of a dicky neck. Dodged a bullet there Michael, I thought at the time, don’t tarnish your record. If the thought of him returning to Ferrari was tarnishing his record, then returning to Mercedes for the 2010 season was the equivalent of smearing the windows with bird poo. The 2010 season saw him fail to win a race, get on the podium, start on pole position, record a fastest lap, or even drive on the right side of the road. It really was a poor comeback. As it stands this season, he is 11^th in the standings with 14 points. Underwhelming. His detractors used to question whether he’d be any good in a less than superior car. We will never really know as he didn’t drive a bad car in his prime, but what his comeback did do is give some people a chance to question his greatness. He didn’t need to do that. He should have continued to pick up the big money being a Ferrari advisor and stayed well away from the driving wheel. Verdict: Silly comeback.

To balance it out, how’s about a successful comeback? Kim Clijsters. The Belgian retired from tennis in 2007. During her first stint, her only Grand Slam win came at the US Open in 2005. She had won 2 WTA Tour Championships and appeared in 4 other Grand Slam finals, but it wasn’t particularly a record that would keep you up at night in amazement. The birth of a baby does strange things to people however. Some women get post natal depression, almost all women change their perspectives in life, and infuriatingly, most people associated with newborn babies have an urge to express how cute the baby is, no matter how ugly they actually are. What the birth of Clijster’s baby did though was make the Belgian a better tennis player. Her Grand Slam return came as a wildcard at Flushing Meadows in 2009, the scene of her 2005 US Open triumph. Amazingly, she won after beating the delightful Dane Caroline Wozniacki to become the first mother to win a Grand Slam since 1980; a pointless stat but one that is often associated with Clijsters. A year later she retained the title; the first genuine woman to do so (Venus Williams did it once in 2001 but I’ll leave it to your discretion as to whether you count that one). Another WTA Tour title followed, before she won the Australian Open in 2011. She is still going strong now. Verdict: Great decision on the comeback, Kim.

Now to a comeback that could have been great, but one that was spoiled by a moment of crazyness. If you hadn’t guessed who I’m on about, then it’s Zinedine Zidane. Zizu, as cool people often refer to him as, never actually retired from all forms of football, just the international form. A World Cup winner in 1998, a European Championship winner in 2000, he had done it all for his country. An injury kept him out of most of the 2002 World Cup but he was forced to play in a must-win match against Denmark to try and get the French through. They lost, and they went home at the group stages. 2004 European Championships, France v Greece. The French were much fancied but lost 1-0 to a Greek side that absolutely no-one will remember in 20 years time. It was at this point Zidane announced his retirement from the international game. Fair play to him as well, abort that sinking ship. A year later though he was to reverse his retirement and in 2006 led France to Germany as captain. He had a great World Cup, scoring important goals (including one in the final), and also picked up the player of the tournament award (before the final – very strange timing). So in extra time, the camera’s picked up on Italy’s Marco Materazzi writhing around on the floor in agony with a sheepish Zidane nearby. “Get up you diving little thing you” was what I remember thinking at the time. Then I saw the replay. Bang. That was the sound of Zidane’s bald head onto Materazzi’s sternum. Must have hurt. This was the end of Zidane’s footballing career; it ended in disgrace and with a three match ban, but as he would never play football again he did three days of community service instead; quite suitable considering it was actually assault. Him and Marco Materazzi, who was believed to have insulted Zidane’s sister, still have a frosty relationship; apparently Zidane would rather die than apologise. Verdict: Could have been a fairytale comeback, if you believe in fairytales.

Lance Armstrong. The best cyclist ever; even better than Sir Chris Hoye who cycled very quickly round a track in 2008 and then found himself on the receiving end of a knighthood. What about Ryan Giggs, why is he not a Sir? Clean living family man who has given his all to his sport for 20 years…  Anyway, Armstrong had very severe cancer in 1996 and the outlook was very bleak for him. He battled through it and won the Tour de France for seven consecutive years and straight after his seventh in 2005, announced his retirement. His comeback was announced in 2008 with the intention of riding in the 2009 Tour de France. In this edition he finished 3^rd, and after four years out this can be seen as a fantastic achievement. His final Tour de France in 2010 wasn’t great; he finished in 23^rd place. So whilst he never reached the heights he reached earlier on in his career, his comeback can be seen as a relative success. The primary reason he came back, according to Armstrong, was to raise awareness for the Armstrong Foundation, so he can’t be faulted for that. Verdict: Heart was in the right place, and didn’t disgrace himself.

Now onto Tiger Woods. Eldrick, as he is referred to in quiz questions, was the best golfer in the history of the world (there is a bit of a theme emerging here isn’t there?) before his naughty exploits came to the forefront of the world. He had achieved everything in golf, and then in November 2009 he achieved the feat of crashing his car into a fire hydrant (common obstacles in the USA). Everything unfolded from there and women Tiger had been “entertaining” were coming out the closet left, right and centre. To cut a long story short he did a typically American over-the-top press conference in which he got very emotional and announced he would be taking a break from golf. After this he shook everyones hand and hugged them; it was as if he was going on a one way trip to outer space. Since he returned in 2010 he hasn’t truly recaptured his form or the World Number 1 ranking, although he did put in a decent performance at the Ryder Cup. It seems as if Tiger was at his best when he had women lined up after a day on the golf course. I’m not sure I can fault him. Verdict: He was always going to return and he will undoubtedly get better.

So sporting comebacks from the worlds best athletes are a bit of a risk. Some pay off (Clijsters, and myself), some backfire (Schumacher), and others are hard to judge (Zidane, Armstrong, Tiger Woods). The difference between Clijsters and the rest though, was that Clijsters was never actually going to go down as a sporting great before she retired the first time, the others were. Her comeback has been terrific. Floyd Mayweather Junior, the best pound-for-pound boxer in the world before he retired (that theme keeps running), has been in talks over returning to the ring to face current best pound-for-pound boxer Manny Pacquiao, but it hasn’t yet happened. My advice Floyd, which you will never get to hear, would be to stay away. Don’t tarnish your reputation. Oh, and if Robbie Savage ever returns to football, it will automatically be a “Verdict: Oh dear”.

French Open Final...sponsored by Nike

Today the two best players in recent tennis history went head to head at Roland Garros to determine the winner of the French Open. Roger Federer v Rafael Nadal. Right hander v left hander. Maestro v power hitter. Grass court specialist v clay court specialist. Red Nike v Blue Nike. Switzerland v Spain. The previous comparisons are just in line with what everyone tends to do when describing a big match; compare as many things as possible, no matter how silly. I decided to draw the line at countries. In reality though it’s not Switzerland v Spain at all; the players would have been thinking more about what they were having for tea rather than the fact they were performing for their respective countries – because they weren’t.

I’m not going to lie (no doubt you feel much more at ease now knowing my next thought will be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth) but I wanted Nadal to win. Federer comes across as quite arrogant on occasions, and whilst I like him, I prefer his younger rival. Listening to the crowd reactions all tournament you could be excused for thinking Roger Federer was French, such was the support he was getting. Novak Djokovic must have wondered what he had done wrong during his semi-final to be so massively cheered against. Did he declare himself anti-French in the build up to the tournament? Was he somehow involved in the murder plot on Coronation Street? No, he was just up against Federer; a massive crowd favourite. France haven’t had much in the way of sporting success recently, so they may just be trying to adopt him as one of their own. I like their approach. When Andy Murray wins something, I will support him as one of our own. Until then he will just be that moody Scotsman. When Andy Murray does finally win something though, I hope my great-great grandchildren are still around to appreciate it.

The greatest player to ever play the sport, Mr Federer, started off on fire (a slightly unfair advantage for Nadal). He broke the Spaniard in the first game, only for Rafa to reply with a break of his own immediately after. Amazingly, Federer broke again to make it 3 games without anyone holding serve. It was looking as if the player who could hold their serve would go on to take the first set. Federer was that man and got a set point at 5-2. A cheeky drop-shot gone wrong cost him that chance however and Nadal finally found fifth gear after messing around in first for the opening 7 games. He won the set 7-5 and he was now the one on fire (at this point I should just reassure you my use of the term ‘on fire’ is metaphorical only; both players were unharmed during the game, apart from a Nadal blister).

The second set saw Nadal’s superiority continue. BBC commentator Andrew Castle summed it up with his slightly pointless “If Roger could take a 10 minute time-out now, he would” statement. The problem is though, ‘if’ is quite a big word. If I could take back my bet of England to be winning at half time and full time yesterday, I would. If my cat barked, he’d be a dog. If Man Utd could restart their Champions League Final against Barcelona, they would do. Actually, they probably wouldn’t. The point is that a 10 minute time out is not in the tennis rules, so Roger couldn’t take a break and Rafa worked his way up to set point.  It was at this point the rain came. The players went off and Rafa stripped off much to the delight of Sue Barker, and all those who admire left biceps. After the rain ceased the players came back out and Federer found his form again, saving the set point and taking it to a tie breaker. My knowledge of the tiebreaker and the next 40 minutes of play was then down to my imagination and the skills of the radio commentary team due to a compulsory car journey. I don’t know if you have ever listened to tennis on the radio, but if you haven’t, it’s tricky to get your head around. The 40 minutes were along the lines of “CROSS COURT BACKHAND…NADAL…LONG…HIT THE LINE…RETURNED…NET!”. Great effort from the commentary team and it was through them I learnt that Federer took the third set 7-5.

Federer was back to his best and at the start of the fourth had three break points against Nadal. Rafa managed to save them all and take the first game and that was the killer blow for Federer’s dreams of a comeback. Rafa took the fourth set 6-1 with some vintage shots. An overhit Federer forehand saw Nadal drop to his knees and celebrate his 6^th French Open title in what was a great game and a fantastic performance from the Spaniard.

So that was the match. How about a point of contention? Numerous times throughout the match when a line judge’s call looked questionable, the ref left his high chair, walked over to the scene of the crime, stuck his finger up much like a cricket umpire, and repositioned himself in his high-tech chair. Not once was a decision overturned by this rather medieval method. What I cannot get my head around is that when a ball is travelling at a 100mph consistently, thousands of times in a match, it’s quite futile to point to a bit of a marking on the clay as proof of a decision. If it was a court case, it would get thrown out for insufficient evidence. Had the competition took advantage of hawk-eye, some calls would have undoubtedly been overturned, but it was quite refreshing to watch 20th century methods being employed. As a viewer there was more of a certainty that if a shot was called out, it was out. I like that. I didn’t particularly miss the clapping countdown of the crowd in anticipation of a computer generated ball either.

Rafael Nadal confirmed his dominance on clay and kept his place as World Number 1 with a 6^th title at the French Open. Roger Federer showed at times, particularly in the first half of the first set, that his reputation as the greatest ever was warranted. Djokovic’s amazing unbeaten run came to an end against the Fed Express in the semis and Andy Murray showed again that he will never beat one of the top seeds in a grand slam. All in all a very good tournament. Bring on Wimbledon. Come on Tim…on the commentary. 

A week in sport, minus football

So in a slight change of topics, football will not be discussed in this blog. Instead the topics of discussion are Formula 1, tennis, cricket, and how to cook a pheasant. The latter is not actually a part of this blog, but if any of you know how to cook a pheasant please get in touch because there’s one sitting on my table waiting to be eaten.

Let’s start with a bit of Formula 1 then shall we? The Monaco grand prix on Sunday was one of the most dramatic of the season. A crash in qualifying left young Sergio Perez in desperate need of a hospital. Thankfully he got to one and is recovering. The main race saw Sebastien Vettel, Fernando Alonso and Jenson Button battling it out to win the race. Vettel’s tyres were on meltdown and Button was close to catching him in what was shaping up to be a thrilling last 6 laps. Then a Vitaly Petrov crash led to the race being stopped for quite a while. The pit crews went to work on the track, Vettel got some new tyres, the race restarted, and he won with ease. Petrov was ok too, if you were wondering. The race also saw a coming together of Lewis Hamilton’s Mclaren and Felipe Massa’s Ferrari. It looked to the naked and relatively untrained eye that it was typical reckless driving from the young Brit; a style of driving that has made him so interesting to watch, and a style that livened up the sport when he made his sensational debut season back in 2007, missing out on the Championship title by a point. The stewards agreed with my amateur view that it was Hamilton’s fault for the crash. This left a fuming Hamilton to give a feisty interview to the BBC. Lewis Hamilton is proud to be black; his main idols are Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela and his dad, and before his Championship title in 2008 he was quoted as saying that to win a World Championship would show that it’s not just white people who can do it. In reality, it was only a matter of time before he played the race card (no pun intended), and he did this during the feisty BBC interview. “Maybe it’s because I’m black” was the answer he gave when asked why he kept getting called up to the stewards. Maybe Lewis, but maybe it’s nothing to do with that and more to do with the fact you do silly things? And in reference to showing that more than white people can win the Championship, I was always under the impression that to win the World Championship you have to drive your car the quickest consistently, rather than be a certain colour. But what do I know?

Had enough of F1 yet? How about a spot of tennis then? The French Grand Slam at Roland Garros got underway last week. It’s now at the quarter and semi-final stages with all the big dogs still in the men’s draw  still in. Roger Federer has been foolishly overlooked by many for this tournament due to the dominance of Rafael Nadal on clay, and the dominance of Novak Djokovic in all things tennis. The big Serb has not lost a match for longer than I care to remember (BBC Sport informs me he won the last 43 matches), but he will face the Fed Express in the semi’s in what should be a thriller. If all goes to form the other semi final will be contested between Andy Murray and Rafael Nadal. The hugely cheerful Murray is carrying a bit of a knock on his ankle, but completed a thrilling comeback over fourth round opponent Victor Troicki. The pundits have been commenting on the fact he appeared to be in a bad mood during that match. Can you believe it? Andy Murray, in a bad mood? Next you will be telling me that the Pope is actually a Catholic. In the woman’s side of the draw, World Number 1 Caroline Wozniacki got knocked out early on. The young Dane still hasn’t won a Grand Slam, but there’s always a future in modelling for her I’m sure if a Grand Slam still eludes her in a few years time. Speaking of models, soon to be married Maria Sharipova screamed her way into the semi-final earlier today. To tell you the truth (because most people like the truth) her high pitched squealing after every shot is not conducive for blog writing. It looks like hard work for all the players out there in the heat on the clay courts. Clay courts look very unappealing to me; very dirty. One thing is for sure, if you dropped your food on a clay court, the 3-second rule would have to be abandoned. There’s no recovering food with dirty clay stuck to it.

Finally in this whistle stop tour of sport, I move to the cricket. Never before has a positive result looked so unlikely. The final day of the first test match of the summer, much like the previous four, saw rain. England were still on their first innings with South African Jonathan Trott playing a usually dull but massively effective, and in the end, match winning innings. England declared in the afternoon 92 runs in front, causing Michael Vaughan to tweet about it being a pointless 2 hours left. Oh Michael how you were wrong. After the playoff final finished I switched over to see Sri Lanka were 58-8 with Graeme Swann on fire (not literally though, don’t worry). Minutes later, in front of almost no-one in the crowd, England wrapped up the win thanks to a Chris Tremlett short ball. Sri Lanka will be metaphorically kicking themselves, England will be literally patting each other on the backs, and the ECB will be under pressure to review having Cardiff as a test match venue. It can’t be faulted for drama; the first Ashes match of 2009 saw massive squeaky bum time when England batted out the last day for a draw, and this match just gone saw even greater drama. What it didn’t see though was supporters, and that’s a problem.

So that’s the round up of sport this week. Hope you have enjoyed it, and if you haven’t, I suggest you just stick to ‘The week in sport’ segment on Sky Sports News. I wouldn’t blame you either; Georgie Thompson is very good at her job…

Quite a big week in football...

It’s all been happening this week in football. The world’s most anticipated game (Manchester United v Barcelona), the Football League playoffs which included the most lucrative match in world sport (apparently), allegations of corruption in FIFA (shock), and a footballing legend retiring (not Robbie Savage).

A joke has been circulating since Saturday that Man Utd are creating a ’19 times’ banner to go up at Old Trafford, signifying the amount of times they touched the ball against Barcelona. Funny whilst this may be, it isn’t a massive deviation from the truth. The simple fact is that Derby fans are going to have to stop singing “We’re by far the greatest team, the world has ever seen”, because Barcelona have taken that accolade, and most people tend to share this view. My dad however, puts up an argument that he used to see teams play like that in the 60’s and 70’s, with “inside forwards”, but I’m not sure he saw anyone as good as Lionel Messi at the Baseball Ground. He did concede however that play wasn’t quite as quick back then as it is now, and deep down, I think he knows this current crop of Barcelona players are the best team to have played the game. At the time I was highly critical of United’s tactics as they appeared to sit back and try and hold on for a draw. In hindsight it appears that this approach kept the scoreline credible. A £25 victory for me on the ‘draw half time, Barcelona full time’ market had me dreaming of 6 months travelling in Australia, but a few more victories will be needed for that.

Earlier today, United legend Paul Scholes announced he has retired from playing football. On this occasion the word legend is not being overused, unlike 93% of the time when it is overused. His retirement led to outpours of emotions from fans and players, eulogising about the ginger wizards’s (a name only usually reserved for my cat) abilities. Rio Ferdinand, Michael Owen, Zinedine Zidane, Andres Iniesta, Patrick Vieira and Alan Shearer have all gushed about him. Some people, including the names above, believe he was the best midfielder of his generation. If he could tackle, that wouldn’t be in doubt. It’s at times like these though you should remind yourself he is not actually dead. Written articles entitled ‘Scholes will be sadly missed’ and a Manchester United blog post of 'Leave your tributes to Paul Scholes here' give the impression that he is no longer with us. The reality is we’ll see him in a testimonial and then most likely on Sunday afternoons (once upon a time Man Utd played at 3pm on a Saturday afternoon) at Old Trafford as part of the coaching staff. As tends to be the norm these days, Dwight Yorke was consulted for all things concerning Man Utd, and he was another to praise Paul Scholes, especially his attitude in the dressing room. Apparently Scholesy is a bit of a mischief maker behind the scenes, and not as dull as he appears to be at face value. As a footballer, he will definitely be missed.

The weekend of playoffs started off slow, and worked its way to a fantastic climax. Stevenage v Torquay on Saturday was a very dull and tense affair in front of a relatively empty Old Trafford. Stevenage sneaked it 1-0 but more information will not be forthcoming in this blog as it was dull enough to send me to sleep in the second half. Huddersfield v Peterborough was a match that promised much. The Lionel Messi of League 1, Craig Mackail-Smith, hit the post early on and it looked as if it would be going to extra time, until 3 Peterborough goals in 7 minutes late in the second half ensured they would be trying to survive in the Championship next season. The owners have admitted that their best players will not be with them next season, so it could be a less than enjoyable season for them. If I hadn’t lost £50 in the last 2 seasons trying to predict teams to get relegated, I’d stick 50p on Peterborough to go down from the Championship next season. Thankfully, the Championship playoff final at Wembley was very entertaining. I had a bet on it to be 1-0 to Swansea, so naturally it turned out to be a goal-fest. A fantastic Stephen Dobbie goal earnt me a life-changing £3 though so all was not lost. A spirited Reading fightback made the game what it was, until Andy Griffin decided to hand Swansea a place in the Premier League. Brendan Rogers was fantastic after the match; very gracious in victory and clearly emotional after what has been a difficult year for him personally (his mother died and his father is suffering from cancer). Swansea play football the right way, and despite it not being to a lot of peoples taste, they will be representing Wales for the first time in the top flight.

In earth-shatteringly unsurprising news, FIFA have come under scrutiny this week for being corrupt. There have been more claims recently about corruption in FIFA than I’ve had hot dinners, although it should be noted when my mother goes away on holiday the number of hot meals I consume goes down drastically. It makes no sense to me where these corruption allegations come from though. A country such as Qatar, with its rich footballing history, tradition and fantastic footballing weather was always going to get the World Cup. Not a thing to do with money. Seriously though, if you believe that you are either Sepp Blatter, Sepp Blatter’s best mate, or one of Sepp Blatter’s employee’s. Former vice-president Jack Warner was suspended and spat his dummy out in a move that stunk of ‘well if I’m going down, you’re coming with me’. Today though he came out and said that Blatter should be supported. To coin a well known Derbyshire phrase, “are we rate or what?”. FIFA definitely aren’t ‘rate’. Mr Blatter will be standing for re-election this week. Much like the X-Factor, you can ring a number to vote*, but whatever 2 digit number you put at the end it doesn’t really make a difference, because Sepp is the only one standing for election. His news conference yesterday was quite a telling one because he basically lost the plot. Mr Blatter decided his trick was to go down the line of ‘you have asked me two questions, which one would you like me to answer?’, before turning on the journalists for an apparent lack of respect. At the end of the day though, a man who would rather employ two extra officials in a match than put a camera on the goal-line, does not deserve respect. Go to Argos Sepp, camera’s are quite small and cheap these days, and you’d save a fortune on 5^th and 6^th official’s wages. After you have been to Argos though, pack your bags and get out of FIFA, please.

*you can’t actually ring to vote, so please don’t ask me for the number

The Match of the Day?

So tomorrow will see the most anticipated match in football for a good few years. There are no stats to back this claim up, but it really just is the match to top all matches. Stevenage v Torquay for a place in League 1. It doesn’t get much bigger than this for the two clubs. This is Stevenage’s first year in the football league, and to get back-to-back promotions would be nothing short of phenomenal. The match is huge for all involved with the clubs and it will be viewed in my household with a nice cup of tea and bourbon biscuits, but joking aside, the Champions League final is almost upon us. If you’ve had a holiday on the moon this last week you’d be forgiven for not knowing; rarely has a match had such a big build up, and rightly so. Football experts are saying it’s the match that everyone wants to see, Manchester United v Barcelona, the two best clubs in the world. The experts made an error in their generalisations however, because the match I’d most want to see would be Derby County v Barcelona in the final, but I don’t think that will ever happen. I will happily settle for United v Barca, cause lets face it, United will put up more of a fight than the Rams.

United’s team looks like being Van Der Sar, Fabio, Vidic, Ferdinand, Evra, Carrick, Park, Giggs, Valencia, Hernandez and Rooney. A team worthy of winning the Premier League without a doubt, but how many would get in Barcelona’s team? Three perhaps. Van Der Sar, Rooney and Evra. The retiring Edwin Van Der Sar has been simply incredible for United, and despite his age has been one of the world’s best in the last few years. Wayne Rooney is Wayne Rooney in the same sense that a spade is a spade and a book is a book; I’m not here to tell you why Rooney would get into any team in the world because hopefully you realise that already. Patrice Evra is a fantastic left back and I’m sure Barcelona would prefer him to Eric Abidal or Javier Mascherano, the two players fighting (not literally) to start at left back. Apart from those three United players though, I’m sure Pep Guardiola will be more than pleased with the players he’s got. Lionel Messi is quite useful on his day, and Xavi can pass a ball, a skill that many Derby players have somehow made look very hard in recent years.

Naturally, people are trying to compare Wayne Rooney and Lionel Messi. I think Terry Venables should receive some mention for his view though. When speaking about Rooney “…he’s tough, tougher than Messi maybe, as a fighter”. If someone could just inform Terry Venables that it’s football tomorrow and not boxing that would be good. If it was a straight up fight then Mr Venables would be spot on; Rooney is thick-set from a boxing background and Messi is very slight – Rooney would probably knock him out in the 3^rd round. However, back to seriousness, Rooney’s toughness is obvious by simply looking at him, Messi’s toughness should not be discounted however. Every match the footballing genius plays in, he is floored by lesser players who cannot compete with him. Unlike his team-mates however, Messi gets straight up rather than rolling around and gets play underway immediately. He should be commended for that.

Javier Hernandez, or Chicharito as people prefer to call him, has been a great signing for United and surpassed all expectations in this, his debut season. He has been rewarded by a starting place for the final if I am to trust the people ‘in the know’.  Gerard Pique and Andres Iniesta could probably have thought of 100 better questions to answer than “Who’s better, Rooney or Chicharito?”, a question asked to both yesterday. Rooney is clearly the better player; Pique got splinters sitting on the fence, Iniesta told the journalist straight. To Barcelona, it doesn’t matter who is better as they will have plans to deal with every player. It is just an example of many silly questions asked to players and managers. Lessons must have been learnt not to ask Sir Alex about Ryan Giggs however. Mr Ferguson didn’t react too well to a question about the not so goody-two-shoes, issuing a banning order for the offending journalist. The way Giggs performs tomorrow will tell you much about the man. I expect he will put Imogen firmly to the back of his mind and produce as he has done for the last 20 years, and if he doesn’t perform it will be down to Xavi, Iniesta, and Busquets stopping him.

It would be rude for me to write a blog without giving you a tip for you to win money. I’m going for draw half time and Barcelona full time at 11/4. That means if you put £4 on, you will lose £4, cause I never win bets. So please, don’t listen to me. I’d love for my tip to be wrong on this occasion as I’ve had a soft spot for United all my life. They were my main team until I was 14, but then I realised that with me being a complete pessimist I couldn’t support a successful team. Also there is nothing quite like supporting your local team, no matter how dreadful they are. So I’ll be routing for Manchester United tomorrow, as I’m sure most of the nation will, apart from maybe the blue part of Manchester and red part of Merseyside. Can I blame them? I don’t know. Would I support Forest if they made it to a European final? Thankfully, I’ll never have to make that terrible decision. My mum and dad, avid Derby supporters, had to though back when Forest won their two trophies. My mum, a level headed woman who tries to see the best in everyone, expressed to me with a sense of shame and mischief that she was firmly in the anti- Forest camp. My dad with an equal amount of shame told me he wanted Forest to win, “for Cloughy” was his get-out clause.

So hopefully it’s a great final, with both Messi and Rooney on great form but United just edging it. Van Der Sar deserves a fantastic send off so him saving a winning penalty would also go down well. And as for the big match, well, I think I’d prefer Torquay to win that one. Chris Zebroski with the winner.

Nations Cup, you're having a laugh

For a while now I’ve been trying to think of something as pointless as the closing line on the iPhone advert “…and if you haven’t got an iPhone, well, you haven’t got an IPhone”.  A three-word phrase involving a swear word and someone called Sherlock always springs to mind when that advert rears its head, but I digress. The most pointless thing since that advert is the Nations Cup, being shown live on Sky Sports this week. Consisting of Wales, Scotland, Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland, it really is a bit of a bad joke. What’s wrong with it? Allow me to explain.

Firstly, what is a Nations Cup without the footballing powerhouse of the home nations, England? It’s like a pork butchers that doesn’t sell sausages, Gavin and Stacey without Gavin or Stacey, and Neighbours without Dr Karl. England are not the be-all and end-all of football, granted, and judging by performances in international competitions they might not have even won it anyway. However, by not being included, the competition loses any sort of excitement it could have had. Countries tend to raise their games against England. There is a certain cockyness that is associated with the England football set-up, a cockyness that makes teams want to beat the country that calls itself the home of football. The last time England played Scotland was in a play-off qualifier to determine who went to the Netherlands and Belgium for Euro 2000. England, as expected, prevailed, but even I who was 10 at the time remember what an occasion those matches against Scotland were. None of that though in this Nations Cup.

The shy and retiring (literally) Robbie Savage, who wouldn’t say boo to a goose, was quick to use his Twitter account to lambaste this competition. Partly for the point highlighted above, and also for the fact that countries are giving free caps away. As Robbie said, players who have played half a match at League 2 are now being capped for their country, just so that the teams can fulfil their fixtures in the tournament. Savage is the first one to tell you that he wasn’t the most talented at football, but he is also quick to tell you he was capped 39 times for his country. He comes across as very insecure at times, and for him to think that relative unknowns are catching up on his international appearance total may be a reason behind his little outburst. However, Robbie Savage is totally right, whatever the motives behind it. Players should be made to work for their debuts and international appearances. Turning out in a third rate tournament makes a mockery of what should be a really proud moment. If I had a Welsh great great grandparent I’d like to think I’d stand a chance of donning the boots and gloves in this tournament.  

On Sunday we saw a dramatic Survival Sunday pan out. The playoffs are still ongoing. Many teams in the football league endured long and hard seasons. Surely the last thing players want to do is then play in what is effectively a friendly tournament. Judging by the attendances it seems like the fans would rather do more worthwhile things also. The tournament kicked off during the season before taking on a break. It is now finishing, with all the matches being played in the highly impressive 51,700 capacity Aviva Stadium in Dublin, Ireland. The Wales v Scotland match last night could have been played on my local park however, such was the dismal attendance. With only 6,036 people and over 45,000 empty green seats, it had the feel of a reserve match. You can’t fault the fans either for not turning up due to travel expenses. However, the Republic of Ireland v Northern Ireland match the night before only had 12,083 in attendance, making the travel expenses argument invalid, at least for the Republic’s fans.

To add to the stupidity of the tournament, Wales played in white shirts and Scotland played in yellow shirts, instead of their distinctive home colours. Against my better advice, my dad had a bet on there to be more than 5 corners in the first half. This was down more to the fact he is missing football than him genuinely believing there would be corners. There were only 5 corners, so he lost, and was dismayed at the negative tactics being employed. “That’s it, get into a scoring position, now pass it back, keep going, get it back to your keeper, that’s it, now start again, surprise surprise”. I’ve left the language out for your viewing pleasure. It just backs up what everyone knows though; there is nothing at stake in this tournament - the winners will be more happy with the fact they can now go somewhere sunny for a few weeks. It’s been a hindrance to most of them, even though they will never come out and say that.

Just before I leave you I’ll finish with a positive. There’s been a minimum of 3 goals in each match. That’s it; positives over.  So, be sure to watch the Republic of Ireland v Scotland on Sunday to determine the winners of the Nations Cup. That is, of course, if you have nothing better to do, such as the hovering, or in my case watering the millions of plants in our garden

Where did it all go wrong? Where can it all go right?

November 2010; Derby County were in 4^th place in the Championship playing some of the best football in recent history, about to play Burnley at Turf Moor. May 2011; Derby County finished 19^th in the league, rendering it a season that can only be described as absolute tosh. The Rams lost at Turf Moor that Saturday teatime and it was very much the sign of things to come. Four victories followed after that. 4 victories and 7 draws out of 27. If you are a mathematician you will know that is 19 points gained from a possible 81. If you aren’t a mathematician you will simply understand that to be nothing short of rubbish. Two of those four victories were against Championship world-beaters Preston North End and Sheffield United; that good they will be applying their trade in League 1 next season.

So where did it all go spectacularly wrong? To place all the blame at Nigel Clough’s door would be naïve. He had to cut the wage bill excessively and was given a very modest transfer budget. Some would say this is sensible ownership in a climate where many teams are in dire financial trouble, others would say the owners have not backed their manager. Agent Clough, as Nigel is referred to as by the Forest fans, has had enough money to build his own team that is capable of finishing higher than 19^th though. He has shown an eye for talent, particularly with the signings of player of the season John Brayford and hot prospect James Bailey, both signed from Crewe last summer. Clough had been after Brayford for quite some time, and his persistence was justified by Brayford’s performances this season. Earlier this season I read a blog on Sky Sports from Football League pundit Peter Beagrie who’s two top tips for a surprise England call-up were Jay Bothroyd (well done on that one Peter), and…John Brayford. I checked the date; it wasn’t April fools. I checked the time; it was 11am – I wasn’t drunk. And I’ve never been one for drugs. So it was genuine and my eyes were not deceiving me. I tapped my Ipswich Town supporting friend on the shoulder to express my shock and delight that a Derby player was being considered in some circles to replace the defensively poor Glen Johnson, but his reply was a standard one about Connor Wickham being the next England legend. So Fabio Capello didn’t listen to Mr Beagrie with his Brayford-for-England-right-back tip, but credit where credit is due to Clough and the Brayford signing.

So Brayford and Bailey are ticks in the transfer dealings box for Clough, along with the newly appointed captain back Shaun Barker, and recent signings Frank Fielding and Jamie Ward. Chris Porter however, Nigel’s first signing, was a terrible one. Bought from Motherwell, he was more or less injured for the majority of his stint at Derby. He is a player that has no attribute worthy of warranting a place in the team. No first touch, doesn’t win headers for a big man, and possesses no pace. Robbie Savage also offered very little in the talent department, but he was a leader and put 100% into every match, just about making him worthy of a starting place for his final season as a footballer. It was confirmed at the end of the season that Porter would not offered a new contract in news even less surprising than Ryan Giggs being revealed as the man behind all things terrible, including the current volcano erupting in Iceland.

Despite the odd bad signing, Nigel Clough has generally been quite good in the transfer market. Where he hasn’t been so good has been his tactics and man management; two fairly important components of management I’m sure you’ll agree. Any manager that is happy to play for draws at home, and who adopts defensive tactics as soon as a lead is established, is not going to get great results in my opinion (my opinion is reflected by the league table, strangely enough). All too often Derby came out after half time and defended, until we started losing (at which point he’d throw on a few strikers in the 92^nd minute – he’s not great at making substitutions either). Unlike the old Arsenal team who were famous for winning matches 1-0, we do not have David Seaman, Tony Adams and Martin Keown as a backbone, and watching a Derby team in the lead is very rarely enjoyable because you know that sooner or later, our defensive line will be deeper than Loch Ness.

As previously highlighted, Clough’s man-management, or lack of, is one of his annoying habits. If a player does something wrong in a match, Nigel will be the first one on the radio to tell everyone about it. Tomasz Cywka will tell you all about that. “He can go back to wherever he came from, until he learns the game” was one of Clough’s charming views on Cywka after a Derby conceded a late goal at Fratton Park against Portsmouth. Well, Nigel, he came from Poland, via Wigan, and I do believe we as a club are too skint to pay for his plane ticket back, so how’s about you fulfil your role as manager and teach him the game?

So what can be done to ensure Derby don’t suffer yet another poor season and avoid a trip into League 1 where our lovely rivals and two times Champions of Europe (ask one of their fans, they’d only be too pleased to tell you about it) Nottingham Forest spent a fair bit of time? A few new signings are required. Barnsley skipper Jason Shackell is on the most-wanted list, along with Aberdeen striker Chris Maguire. A Derby website will tell you that “Maguire scored 12 goals in 45 appearances this season and he helped Aberdeen finish ninth in the Scottish Premier League”. I’m sure I am not the only one entirely underwhelmed by that stat. Any team that finishes below third in the SPL would struggle to get out of League 2. Nigel needs to improve his managerial skills over summer too. If it gets to 10 games in and the Rams are in the relegation zone, it is time for Clough to go. He is only still in a job due to his father’s achievements with Derby, and the owners are doing everything they can not to tarnish the great Clough name, but I’ll leave you with an analogy my friend came up with that sums up why Nigel Clough got the job in the first place…

“When my dad retires from Rolls Royce, they aren’t going to ring me up and say ‘Ay up Dodge, come and build a jet engine for us will you cause your dad was really good at it’”. Well, DCFC rang Nigel up, and it’s about time he started showing something.