"Really I shouldn't be here," said an evidently frustrated George Burley earlier today at Hampden Park. The Scotland manager had been called in to explain to the media why he had not elected to use Kris Boyd during Scotland's 0-0 draw with Norway on Saturday. Whatever next? Arsene Wenger up before the press to explain why training went anti-clockwise round the cones, not clockwise? Sir Alex Ferguson in front of the TV cameras to justify his switch of personnel at right-back?
"You go forward while I stay back" - it doesn't sound too complicated does it? Yet the inability of Frank Lampard and Steven Gerrard to master this simple tactic has taken the debate over whether the two can play together to a new level.
The England midfielders have been granted the 'spitting image' treatment by ITV's Headcases, portraying them more like the Chuckle Brothers than two of football's most gifted players.
Lets hope they have more luck shifting the bus that Kazakstan plan on parking in front of their goal on Saturday than they do shifting that piano.
ITV have won the rights to show highlights of England v Croatia. Hurrah. But hold on - hasn't the game already happened?
Setanta have gracefully bowed to pressure to allow highlights of the
national team playing the national game to be show on terrestrial television - the only problem is the
agreement has come a day late.
As England supporters will be well aware, baffling displays from Steve McClaren are nothing new. However, the ex-England boss went a step further in a recent television interview in which he appeared to be speaking English with a Dutch accent.
The video of McClaren, who now manages in the Netherlands, was shot before his new side FC Twente faced Arsenal on Wednesday and has become a huge hit on YouTube.
Despite speculation that McClaren was deliberately speaking in a Dutch
accent as a private joke, reports today suggest it was no prank and
that it is schhimply how he now schhpeaks Englishhh.
This, of course, is a player whose "loyalty" to his club surmounts
to spending much of the summer courting a bid from AC Milan, a
flirtation so blatant it would have made even the most forthright Premier League groupy blush.
Okay, parallel universe time. Try to imagine it. It’s 21 November, 2007 and Mladen Petric’s shot at Wembley on 77 minutes clips the outside of Scott Carson’s post. Phew, close one that. A 2-2 draw at home to Croatia is nothing to celebrate but never mind, we’re going to Euro 2008 after all. Steve McClaren puts his brolly in a charity auction at Christmas and everyone has a bit of a laugh about the episode. McClaren gets an endorsement with an outdoorwear company. There’s a mildly amusing television advert in January.
Marco Van Basten has a wonderful opportunity tomorrow night to finish the job he started in Group C last week: eliminating Italy and France from Euro 2008. His Netherlands team have beaten the World Cup finalists from 2006 in their first two games and can finish them off. But only if the Netherlands lose to Romania tomorrow.
Here's the moral maze for Van Basten. If his Dutch team lose to Romania in Berne, the result of France against Italy in Zurich is immaterial.
When he faced up to the media - and one very persistent Polish reporter in particular - Howard Webb found himself in that peculiar position of any referee suddenly thrust into the spotlight: he had to assure everyone that they he does the job to the best of his abilities and that he is not – to put it bluntly – bent.
There is something in the psyche of every aggrieved nation – in this case Poland – that wants to believe that they are the victims of a refereeing conspiracy. That dark and sinister forces are moving against them. That Webb called his assistants together before the game and told them in a low whisper, "No way are Poland taking the three points today, if you know what I mean". Perhaps you could throw in an evil cackle just to complete the picture.
There were 140 arrests before Germany played Poland in Klagenfurt on Sunday evening. One hundred and forty. Goodness knows how many there would have been if the police hadn’t, largely, turned a blind eye to the drunken, extreme behaviour that had dogged this southern Austrian provincial capital throughout the weekend. I counted 20 police vans tearing past my hotel, in the centre of town, on Saturday evening to deal with trouble that erupted in the main area where the fans were corralled. Only the driving rain finally dampened their alcohol-fuelled aggression.
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