StavSport

Mancs and Paddies

2005-02-03T11:41:00.000Z

Much to Sky Sports chagrin, it was more Blazing Saddles than High Noon as the Battle of Highbury took place on Tuesday night, pardner. Although the championship status of the bout was somewhat diminished by Chelsea's bear-hug hold of the top place, this middle-weight contest was thoroughly entertaining. The game itself was fast and full of attacking quality, with two old heads on either side being the stand-out players. The commentators might have been in the Rooney fanclub, but Dennis Bergkamp in the first half and Ryan Giggs in the second were nothing short of inspirational. As for the defending, well I'm sure Jose Mourinho would have enjoyed watching the slapstick antics of Pascal Cygan and Mikael Silvestre using his head. It's hard to see how either of these teams are going to hunt down Chelsea like an assasin through the snowy streets of Moscow, but what is evident is Arsenal are going to have to beouf up their defensive reserves, as Premierships are rarely built on foundations of Cygan and Hoyte.

The increasingly tedious scuffles between these two clubs was prevailant before the match as Patrick Vieira 'picked on' Socialist leader Gary Neville. Roy Keane offered himself. During the match Cole dived, Rooney swore, Silvestre headbutted, Pires dived, Henry looked French, Heinze annoyed, Ronaldo dived, Cygan drowned, Alumnia made goalkeeping look like a bad career move, O'Shea beat the offside trap. 2-4.

The Six Nations revs its engine on Saturday, with promises of being the most open race for years (unless you're Scotland or Italy). Wales v England could shape the rest of the tournament, with the World Champs looking a bit green around the edges. There is young talent no doubt, but is it a championship a year too soon for the likes of Tait and Noon? Wales fancy the fight for the first time since Martine McCutcheon was number one. Could it be their 'Perfect Moment' again (see what I did there?), or will it be another heart-breaker for the men in red. For a country that has had more false dawns than a French and Saunders look-alike competition, there is nervous expectancy in the Principality as the big match looms.

There's aways the French of course, but Ireland look a strong bet to me, with a settled pack and a balanced backline led by the genial Brian O'Driscoll. They also take on England and France at the charmingly ramshackled couldren of Lansdowne Road, so barring away slip ups in Cardiff, Edinburgh or Rome it could very well be their year. Will they be popping the champagne in Cork come March?

Footnote:
Free fantasy six nations competition at Guinness. You can join the StavSport minileague, log on and join up. League name is StavSport Premier and the pass is stavsport.

Professionalism?

2005-02-01T11:39:00.000Z

Ah, the beautiful game...
What is it with the Craig Bellamy story that makes everyone seem unprofessional? Bellers moaning and pulling a sicky, Souness throwing his rattle, Fat Freddy being Fat Freddy, and here's the Birmingham City chairman publicly conceding defeat to Celtic in the race to sign the gobby Cardiffian:

"Craig Bellamy didn't come to Birmingham because we were not big enough for him.
"Celtic are a bigger club than us - but they play in a crap league.
"Most of Celtic's matches are totally meaningless and they've even been knocked out of Europe this season."
"We are gutted to lose out on Craig. After agreeing a fee with Newcastle, I thought he was going to come to Birmingham.
"I've never met Craig Bellamy. Maybe if I was involved in the talks I could have persuaded him to join us.
"We're disappointed to lose out on him because we think he would have done a great job for us.
"By coming to Birmingham, Craig would have remained in the Premier League - which means he would stay in the public eye.
"By going to Scotland he is in danger of becoming a forgotten man. But maybe he's gone to Celtic because he likes John Hartson!"

Brian Clough 1935-2004

2004-09-20T21:24:00.000Z

Farewell to a brilliant and under-rated player and a magnificent genius of a manager. Loved at Derby County, legend at Nottingham Forest, and remembered whenever and wherever there is a football kicked. As was typical of man though, I think the last words should come from Ol' Big 'Ead.

"I want no epitaphs of profound history and all that type of thing. I contributed - I would hope they would say that, and I would hope somebody liked me"

Stav.

The Worst Ever Football Kits

2004-09-19T19:26:00.000Z

A great kit is a lesson in simple elegance and a statement of class from collar to toe. Some of the examples below show how a uniform can inspire. But, alas, for every smart monochrome striped Juventus shirt there is a shocker (the same club's recent pink away shirt being just one example).

Hull City 1992

Grrrr! Now this really is horrendous. The only explanation I can offer is that the sportswear company gave the job of designing a new home kit for Humberside's finest to the office junior. This office junior I suspect new nothing of football, "This Hull City, do they have a nickname I'm a bit stuck here... the tigers eh? Rightio then!". It's state-the-bleeding-obvious fashion desinging at it's very purest. Shere Khan or sheer crap?

Arsenal away 1991-93

It's not just the small clubs that have trouble with tin-pot desingners. Take the mighty Arsenal and their collaboration with Adidas. This really is just a mess, and from distance, such as from the back of the Clock End, the yellow and the dark blue seem to merge causing a confusion to the eyes. Dulux are probably still trying to recreate the colour. It's to the club's credit and the designer's relief that they managed to win the FA Cup during this time.

Norwich City 1992-93

The canaries are on a loser to start with. Their combination of yellow and green has been the main cause of nausea in East Anglia since 1902. In fact colour-blindness is actually considered a blessing by the folk of the Fenlands. So when green and white 'speckles' are artistically added to this blend, you really have created a horror that even Dr Frankenstein is envious. Is it supposed to look like birdshit? I think this must have been designed by an Ipswich Town fan.

York City 2002-03

Eye-watering football kits are not the sole property of the Ecstasy-addled early 90's. Oh no! This beauty is from only a couple of seasons ago. This is started life as a red shirt then added is a huge a white 'Y' shape on the front in a nod to a 70's tradition, then topped off bizzarely by a black and white chequered arm, just the one mind. The arm oddity is a nod to the club Chairman John Batchelor whose first love is motor-racing. He actually designed the kit. He is no longer chairman, presumingly he didn't go into fashion design.

Coventry City away 1970s

No collection of the worst ever kits would be complete without the daddy of them all. This is the inspiration, probably the first example of dodgy away kits, and if it's one raison d'etre was that sportswear should never be brown then it passed with flying earthy colours. It's not just brown though, the piping is actually cream, giving it that authentic old fashioned two-tone y-front look. As an example of hiddeousness in cotton then this takes the chocolate hob-nob. I wonder if there is a label on the back instructing not to mix with ginger perms, if it doesn't, it should. This is the only football kit that the word 'infamous' really doesn't do justice.

Stav.

The Greatest Ever Football Kits

2004-09-18T15:32:00.000Z

Brazil World Cup 1970

It could have been the fact it was the first World Cup finals to be televised in colour. It could have been the amplified interest due to England's success the last time around. More likely it was the glorious football on display, that has made the bright gold shirt with green trim the symbol of sexy sunshine samba soccer. Rugby has the All-Blacks of New Zealand, cricket has the Baggy Greens of Australia, so it follows that football has the yellow of Brasil. They've never quite matched the simple elegance of this crew neck shirt, and despite their successes they have never matched the performances of that Mexican summer of 1970. Tostao, Gerson, Rivelino, Carlos Alberto, Jairzinho and Pelé. All in all, absolutely nothing like Norwich City.

Cardiff City 1975-80

This was a simple blue shirt with a great big floppy 1970's collar, perfected by two thin stripes down the one side. But this is just an excuse to have a tribute to the great Reading and Cardiff player, Robin Friday. This flawed genius drank shed loads, he smoked like an industrial chimney, he dropped acid the night before matches and had more fights than Mike Tyson. He was known to crap in the oppositon's bath if he'd been sent off. He once got red-carded for kicking Mark Lawrenson in the face. The day of his arrival as City's new signing he was arrested at Cardiff Central Station for dodging the fair from Reading. The day before his first game for Cardiff, he was in the pub all night before ordering 12 bottles of lager to take back home with him. He then played Bobby Moore off the pitch and scored 2 goals. After just 25 mathces he just walked away from football. He died in December 1990 of drug and alcohol abuse, aged 38. Not exactly the Alan Shearer of his day.

England 1980-83

There have been some real England fashion disasters over the years, like the pastel green flashes that spoilt an otherwise enjoyable Euro '96, or the plethora of vomit-inducing second kits since 1966 (mottled pale blue anyone?). But as often as a truly great new English player comes along, so does a kit. The home kit of 2001-03 with the red stripe was only just beaten by this peach from Admiral. It was white, it was bright and it was very, very tight. This was the kit Viv Anderson wore when he became the first black player for England, and this was the kit in which Kevin Keegan became the most-permed player for England! Sadly despite the presence in the squad of such luminaries as Peter Withe and Steve Foster, England bombed out of World Cup '82 at the second-round.

Ajax Amsterdam 1966-73

Simple lines adorn this famous shirt, but purified of modern trappings such as sponsor's name and manufacturer's emblems do we find it in its true glory. It was a golden time for Dutch football, and Ajax were at the centre of it all. Its famous academy nurturing the talents of Johan Neeskens, Johnny Rep and Ruud Krol. But above all, it was the frighteningly talented and stroppy genius, Johan Cruyff who cemented their places in football history, winning three European Cups, 6 league titles and providing most of the Dutch team celebrated as the best to never win the World Cup. Not bad for a club your mum thinks is a cleaning product!

Juventus 1985-89

Ah Juve! Those pied stripes makes you think of the late great John Charles, the unpronouncable midfield creativity of Zbigniew Boniek and the predatory goal-poaching of Paolo Rossi. Also Wales legend Ian Rush's 12-month excursion into what must have seemed "like another country". Historically inspired by the mighty Notts County, but the fine stripes always hung best over the elegant frame of Michel Platini. He was the king of Serie A, and finished as top scorer on three occasions, that from midfield too. Lately the 'Old Lady' has been spoiling a winning formula with some cheap looking sponsors, plain areas on the back for names (obviously names at an extra cost), having a player who wears sunglasses, and a change to black shorts. Oh, and selling Zinedine Zidane didn't really help matters either!

STAV's over-by-over report - USA v Australia

2004-09-13T13:35:00.000Z

(not as quick or as informative as Cricinfo's, or as funny as The Guardian's)

Australia v USA at Southampton, ICC Trophy.
United States of America 65 all out (24 overs: Kasprovicz 4-14, Gillespie 4-15)

Australia innings:

1st over: Twelve off the first over, including two noballs, and two brutal Matthew Hayden boundaries. The Aussies must have a lunchtime appointment! Just 54 runs needed off 294 balls with 10 wicket in hand. Photofinish?

2nd: Another Hayden four, good footwork combined with pedestrian bowling from Reid (sorry don't know his first name, maybe it's Chip or Bud or someother weird Yankee name!). Adam Gilchrist joins the party with a lofted drive. 21 for none, obvioulsy they've one eye on the NZ run-rate, in which case Australia will need to wrap it up before 12 overs.

3rd: Hayden - bang! Hayden - bang! Just the 11 runs off that over. Hayden moves to a sedate 23 off 13 balls (inc 5 fours, which is one more than the entire USA innings, oh dear). Australian fingernails are being chewed I'm sure as they are 34 runs away from victory!

4th: 7 more runs, Gilchrist sends Reid's ambitious short-ball to midwicket. Quickly. 39/0, runrate 9.75. Forget what I said about one eye on the NZ runrate, it's clear the Aussies are definately aiming for it.

5th: Run confusion on first ball! Gilchrist sends Hayden back, and back he goes, the shy misses the stumps, Hayden is safe. Fourth ball LBW appeal but Hayden is quite safe there, the ball pitched outside leg-stump. Good news USA fans - WICKET - sixth ball - Hayden attempts a big drive but only succeeds in edging it to keeper. Bad news USA fans - Ricky Ponting comes to the middle. Eventful over, and just 3 off it. NZ skipper, Stephen Fleming would have enjoyed that over. And one to remember forever for the bowler (Keanu?) Johnson.

6th: Back to reality for the Statesiders as Ponting sends one past the keeper for four, deliberately (David James would never have had that!). Gilchrist justly smashes an awful delivery to cover fence. 10 off the over. 14 needed (runrate required if you're interested is a troublesome 0.30 an over!)

7th: Donovan (really) Blake into the fray. Will a change of bowler bring a change of fortune? No, not really, but you suspected that already didn't you?! Ponting smashes a gorgeous four past mid-on. Shot of the innings, and 8 off the over.

8th: Rahid Zia will send some off-breaks in the general direction of Adam Gilchrist. Is this what a bowler dreams about or has nightmares over?! Wow! Four dot balls in a row. 250 odd more and we may have a match! Oh no! next ball Gillie gets down on one knee and sweeps it over midwicket... and it keeps going... over the fence... and into the empty seats, it's a homerun. Well actually it's a big SIX, and it's the winning runs, and in some style too and in just 7.5 overs. Gilchrist ends with 24 off just 25 balls.

A bullying nine wicket victory for Australia and not a lot to take across the Atlantic for team USA, except maybe the thought that these cricketers should've taken up baseball instead. I can't help but think that one of those more experienced minnows, such as Scotland or Holland wouldn't look quite as out of their depth as this collection of West Indian has-beens and never-weres (not that they'd win of course, but you know what I'm saying!). Hope you enjoyed the, ahem, dramatic commentary!

Stav

Olympian disappointments, country houses, wheelie bins and pushbikes

2004-07-26T19:35:00.000Z

Football

Alex 'Knight of the Realm' Ferguson and Jose 'Bigger than God' Mourinho were dealt a big ego blow today. They had combined Captain Planet-style to take on Uefa, Fifa, the Portuguese FA and basically anyone that got in their way. The hoo-har was over greasy faced Prince of pointless step-overs Christiano Ronaldo and Chelsea's 39th new midfielder this year, Tiago, and their involvement in the forthcoming super-douper massiver-than-ever Olympic extravaganza for the Portuguese national team. Fifa snorted a stern 'non' in the general direction of the two managers and that was that. So off to Athens for Lollipop-Ron and Tiago, rather than drizzly Blackburn or muddy Norwich, I bet they're gutted! Presumably other Premiership interest will be provided by Robert Pires in the diving and Ruud van Nistelrooy in the equestrian (sorry).

Everton's woes continue apace. Not only are they busy looking for money down the sides of Merseyside settees, and fending away the vultures from above fat-faced man-child saviour Wayne Rooney, they are also going through board members quicker than Duncan Ferguson spends his sick pay. Insult was added to injury when stuck-up neighbours over the way cocked a scarlet snoot at the Blues' suggestion of a future ground share. As Everton were reeling from this latest body-blow, those cheeky cockney chappies from Fulham had crept up the motorway and sneaked back with subbeteo-proportioned Canadian speedster Tomasz Radzinski in their inside pocket. So some sticky times ahead for the Toffee's, but any upset Bluenoses can at least console themselves that they are not Leeds, and they are surely too big to go down...

Transfer news again begins with the spindly figure of Patrick Vieira. Big Paddy seems to be asking himself more personal questions than an adolescent Graham Norton (presumably not the same kind of questions anyway). Not sure if he is a big fan of punk legends The Clash, but in this case of 'Should I Stay or Should I Go', will the answer be 'Safe European Home' or will it be 'London Calling'. StavSport is taking this opportunity to say it is frankly sick of these will-they-won't-they transfer sagas that the football-greedy tabloids throw up every year. It reminds me of Penelope Keith and that smug moustachioed fellow in 'To The Manor Born', only without the posh accents and the tweed.

Other sports

A century in both innings for Michael Vaughan announced an emphatic return to form for the captain, as England trounced the West Indies by 200-odd runs. Moon-faced Robert Key picked up his first Test century of his career and then like the big-appetited bloke he surely is, he greedily helped himself to 120 more runs. Strauss continued his Lords' love-in with yet another ton, and if he can find a way to play all his future Test matches at HQ, then he'll have the bearded stattos in the scoring box coughing into their thermos flasks in disbelief as they rewrite the record books. But the bowling hero was not for once 8 foot Geordie Steve Harmison, but the unlikely spinner Ashley Giles, who plummy commentator Henry Blofeld once likened to a wheelie bin.

Ever since Syd Barrett sang of the delights of his bicycle in the Pink Floyd song 'Bike' the French have been going mad for them. You see when they're not eating garlic and going on strike our Gallic chums are riding Raleigh Burners up and down the old country all day. They've even turned this strange mode of getting from a to b into a sport. Don't scoff, because StavSport will explain it all to you. For about four weeks blokes in lycra with shaven legs and hard helmets race around France, up mountains, down mountains, through the countryside and through the cities, each clocking an overall time. The leader gets to wear a bright yellow sweater, the quickest sprinter gets to wear a fetching green jumper - and the toughest of the lot, the guy who gets to the top of the mountains quickest gets to wear a (ahem) polka-dot jersey. Well they like this the French, it's bigger than football over the channel, and they watch these men of steel in their pretty tight tops teararse it around the nation for best part of a month just for some Yank called Lance to win it... again.

On the subject of one sided affairs, it was Grand Prix time again yesterday, at Hokenheim in Germany, the home of a motoring übermansch called Michael. And as predictable a Bavarian cuckoo clock strikes on the hour, the Schuminator stormed home leaving Button, like so many drivers this year, happy to finish second. I didn't watch it of course, I played MarioKart instead, and in a far more exciting race Donkey Kong pipped Luigi to the finish line after taking out Princess Peach with a timely banana skin and Wario with a homing red shell missile.

I wonder if Bernie Eccleston has a Nintendo, Formula One could yet rekindle it's excitement.

Stav.

Elections, famous dads, old man's problems and Germans driving cars

2004-07-12T17:52:00.000Z

Footy

Everyone's favourite galactico-collector, Florentino Pérez won the election to keep his role as president of the biggest football club in the world (you may have guessed by now that this story is not about Port Vale). The repercussions of this result is not yet known, but do you think that stopped the tabloids guessing wildly under the banners of 'exclusive'? No. It didn't. Most hacks reckon that it is good for Madrid's sarong stockists, in that Pérez would rather have a pretty boy pretty average player (like our own Davie Becks) than an ugly useful one (like that Ronaldinho chap). However the newspapers then fall into two camps, the Patrick Vieira camp and the now ubiquitous Rooney camp, the latter camp probably has a pie stall.

A move for The Sun's official scouser, is a bit of a wild shot, and unsurprisingly there's little mention of it outside Britain. But there may be more substance to the big Paddy V rumours. Pérez is a known admirer of the Gunners' skipper, and has been recording his phone calls and sifting through his dustbin for three years or so, probably. Whether leggy Pat, 28 from Senegal, will allow himself to be wooed by the Spanish would-be suitor is debatable after he once criticized Madrid's image-conscious celebrity status, preferring Arsenal's footballing first nature. And I thought it was because the Londoner's let him put snot on the front of his shirt.

There was a shock announced in Paris today. Glenn Hoddle (he of defunct pop sensation Diamond Light fame and also former England manager) didn't get his plum job as French national coach. Presumably the spell wore off at the French Football Federation, and before Eileen Drewery could find anymore eye of newt, they snuck someone else into the role. The French are a bit cheeky like that. His name is Raymond Domenech, and according to Eurosport he was chosen because he knows the set-up being, as he is, the former under-21 coach. Sounds like the Old Boy's club is alive and well in Gallic parts too.

Bobby Robson has some problems. It's not that he doesn't know new signing James Milner's name, nor has he misplaced his dentures. Welsh whippet Craig Bellamy is injured again, and will miss out on the start of the season. Doubly bad because it doesn't look like big Jim Beattie is on his way up the A1 after all. According to some red top sources there's a bit of a power struggle going on at St James' Park. The director wanted to buy Kluivert, Robson thought he was an over-priced mercenary, the director wanted Nicky Butt, the manager thought he was a bit crap, the director wanted baldy brute Danny Mills, Sir Robbo thought he was a thug, and fancied Portuguese right-back Miguel, director thought he was a bit pricey. The nett result to this tit for tat is just one new signing. I bet Chelsea are bricking it!

How about this for tranfer news, Diego Maradona to Blackburn Rovers. I'll repeat it for effect, Diego Maradona to Blackburn Rovers. And now the inevitable punchline, the Lancashire club are in talks with the holy-handed legend's son, also called Diego Maradona. The 17 year old is currently plying his trade in the youth squad of Napoli, where his old man is still a near-deity, despite being fatter than a mad walrus, a mad walrus smacked up on cocaine that is. The pressure is a bit too much for young Diego junior, and has been fishing for a trial in England, and the fish that bit was ex-moustachioed Scottish hardman Graeme Souness.

Transfers actually completed, t's crossed and i's dotted lately have been Chelsea cast-off winger Jesper Gronkjaer to Birmingham City for £2.2 million, that's about the price of 775,000 bongo mags. Following Jesper from Stamford Bridge up the motorway will be Carlton Cole, who will be on loan at Aston Villa. Just as Portsmouth gaffer Harry Redknapp and Lomano Lua Lua were swapping autographs, David Unsworth turned up to join the Fratton Park love-in. Finally, Serbian striker Mateja Kezman has moved from PSV to... yep, Chelsea.

Is this the worst summer for boring transfers?
Will Chelsea ever have enough players?
Would Harry Redknapp try and buy your dog if you put it in shinpads?
Will this season ever start?

Other stuff

The Natwest trophy meandered to it's anticlimactic conclusion, but the New Zealanders can't be blamed for the flat ending. They overcame a mini batting collapse after Fleming and Astle gave them a flying start, to set the West Indies a reasonable target of 267 for the win. Bearing in mind that Lara's lads had chased a bigger score on the same pitch against England a few days before, they were in chipper mood as they came out to bat. However if there's one thing we've learnt from this overblown tournament is that the Kiwis are nothing like the English in the field. For starters the enzedders have more than one threatening bowler, and they can also field like gazelles (that's the sort of gazelles that can catch and throw a ball of course). With nearly nine overs to spare, the final finally fizzled out like a damp catherine wheel, and it was bespectacled left-arm spinner Daniel Vettori who applied the bucket of sand, with 5 wickets at a Netto-esque economy.

Finally today, the British Grand Prix was won by Michael Schumacher, who held off the challenges of Kimi Räikkönen and Ferrari team-mate Rubens Barrichello, for his tenth win in eleven races this season. It was a stop-start affair... won in the pits... safety car was deployed... 2.1 seconds... oh Christ, I'm bored just writing this. Let's have a nice piccy of Daniel Vettori bowling in his glasses instead.

Stav.

Failures, dismissals, court cases and scientific improbabilities

2004-07-07T17:32:00.003Z

Euro 2004 fallout

With Rudi Voeller and Gio Trappatoni down the job centre and Jacques Santini in an even worse state at Tottenham, the word on the orange-hued grapevine is that big Dick Advocaat will have a P45 in his edam-odoured fingers by tomorrow.

Even funnier than a fat unemployed Dutch fellow is the possible plight of the French. Not only did they lose their Euro title in the tamest of manners, they are now being haunted with the collective thought of God-bothering Glenn Hoddle as manager of their national team. No, seriously, let's go with this for a moment. He has even been to Paris for an interview, presumably he took his incense, lucky charms and yoga mat (if there be such a thing). It seems our Glenda will be up against former Manchester Utd tortoise/defender Laurent Blanc, and ex-Fulham cocktail stick chewer Jean Tigana. "A foreign coach, I believe, can bring a different approach and new ideas", said the former England gaffer probably between Hail Marys and Voodoo chants.

The brand new 'best manager in the world ever' Otto Rehhagel has committed to his adopted country, turning down desperate Deutschland with an upturned nose and a rakish flick of his scarf.

Other Footy

Tranfers... newspapers... gossip... blah... blah...
Harry Redknapp's plan for world domination depends on whether his bid for Greek midfielder Angelo Basinas is successful and whether his rocket proppelled Jim Smith-shaped warship will float (last bit made-up, and probably the first bit too).
Chelsea are said to be interested in a striker (everyday actually), this time the target is Marseille powerhouse Didier Drogba, and the cost may be over 24 million pounds worth of Roman's loose change. While down at football's equivalent of eBay (Leeds United), Blackburn Rovers have picked up Dominic Matteo for the price of a free Highland Toffee. Chelsea's Marcel Desailly is packing his suitcase, which means Ron Atkinson's favourite player will have to find another club to be lazy at, then again he'll probably retire.

Rooney's still rumbling, no he's not hungry again, but the tabloids are running and running with this one, today's revelations are that Everton have offered him a 400 percent payrise, while Chelsea's rather spivvish manager Jose Mourinho has decided he doesn't want him. So apparently it's a tug-of-love between scary-eyed Scot David Moyes and scary-eyed Scot Alex Ferguson. But what's this? It's Real Madrid presidential candidate Arturo Baldasano standing legs far apart thrusting his groin in the air and bellowing in a deep voice "We can afford Rooney". I'm impressed, are you? Is Wayne?

It's only Ray Parlour, but his ex missus has stung him a good 'un. She has won a historic legal fight for increased maintenance amounting to more than a third of his future income. Ms Parlour's lawyer had argued she rescued his career and was entitled to more of his £1.2m-a-year income, well she would say that wouldn't she? The judge reckoned she had saved his career by persuading him to "grow up" and slow down the big-drinking "laddish" culture of certain Arsenal team-mates. We thought it was Arsene Wenger who was responsible for the puritanical professionalism that had swept through Highbury, and all the time it was Karen Parlour - former opticians assistant from Romford. Next week Bruce Grobelaar's mum takes credit for Liverpool's 1984 European Cup success.

Other sports (well cricket)

Michael Vaughan once again failed with the bat in one day cricket, that's 47 runs in five matches (average of less than 10). Freddy Flintoff once again succeeds with the bat, that's 250 runs in three matches (average of 125). The burly Preston lad put on an England record partnership with posh Andy Strauss, but the West Indians still won mainly thanks to the big hitting Chris Gayle. This means, akin to a naughty ginger step-child, and for the first time since 2001, England will not be invited to their own party on Saturday, instead the final will be between Brian Lara's men and the more than handy Kiwis.

The post-mortem will continue for Vaughan's team, at least until the proper cricket starts again later in the month, but the easy solution would be to clone a few Mr Flintoffs. I have sent a copy of my blueprints to the MCC, I have also sent my plans to the FA (clone a few Rooneys and big Sols), and to Twickenham (clone a few Wilkos, preferably with working shoulder). I've not as yet heard anything back from the institutions, but I'll keep you informed.

And in inferior sports:
Some motorcars went round London trying to draw attention to it's four-wheeled Teutonic predictability media circus. Red Ken was chuffed. I yawned, but an odd lethergy stopped me from switching the telly to Hollyoakes.

Some Southern toff called Tim has been appointed an OBE for services to repeated failures in the field of overgrown ping-pong on grass, and for having increasingly sinister teeth.

Stav.

'Greek Legends' and other instant clichés

2004-07-05T20:55:00.000Z

Euro 2004

Here we are in the cold light of, well, early evening and is it true? Greece really are the champions of Europe. 'King' Otto Rehhagel has just written himself into the Michelin Eye-Spy book of Sporting Upsets (50 points). He will now have the choice of quitting at the top of a footballing mountain in the shadows of Olympus, or a first-class return home to coach Michael Ballack and some other Germans to an almost predictable penalty shoot out victory over England sometime during the knockout stages of the next World Cup (being held, of course, in the land of the bratwurst).

Meanwhile, now the fun is over it is review time for lazy sports hacks from Lisbon to Latvia, and who am I to resist?

Great stadiums, good organisation, super local fans filling most of the matches, poor TV coverage (punditry is a dying art - and Andy Townsend is only partly to blame), and obligatory tabloid jingoism.

The feast of football on offer, however, was somewhat akin to a meal for two from the local Chinese restaurant. A plethora of dishes, looking and smelling differently, but mostly suspiciously tasting the same, there are some nuggets of tasty meat (Czechs versus Holland was a true delicacy), but this time around they were too few and far between. I think too many of the key ingredients had been over-cooked (Beckham, Trezeguet, Klose, Raul and Vieri all showed about as much life as Marlon Brando at a Michael Barrymore pool party).

Stav's Team of the Tournament:

GK: Edwin van der Saar (Holland) - Sholid shtuff from lanky shot shtopper.
RB: Georgios Seitaridis (Greece) - Outclassed the Premiership stars Ferreira and Gallas.
CB: Sol Campbell (England) - Sven's tactics and John Terry's sloth pace meant he was busy, and was immense.
CB: Traianos Dellas (Greece) - The dinner-plate abusers didn't concede a goal in their last three matches, this former Sheff Utd man was one of the reasons why.
LB: Gianluca Zambrotta (Italy) - The only Italian worthy of the azzurri shirt this year, like a fine Sangiovese surrounded by Blue Nuns.
RM: Cristiano Ronaldo (Portugal) - Stepover, stepover, stepover, stepover, stepover, stepover, annoying isn't it? Spain's Raul Bravo thought so too.
CM: Maniche (Portugal) - Good tackler and cool finisher, drove many of the midfield like Gerrard, Vieira and Davids were supposed to
CM: Theo Zagorakis (Greece) - Platini, Gullit, Laudrup, Klinsmann, Deschamps, Zagorakis. Captains of Euro champs all, but only one of them once played for Leicester City!
LM: Pavel Nedved (Czech Rep.) - Despite looking like one of The Byrds, Pavel was one superstar who did live up to his billing.
CF: Wayne Rooney (England) - He may not be the next Pelé, he may be a fat scouser, but this lad lit up the group stages with some fearless displays of power and grace.
CF: Milan Baros (Czech Rep.) - This Mersey based young striker warmed the benches of Anfield, and proved just why Houllier is now down the Job Club, the lad's box office and he picks Heskey!

Other Stuff

Transfers that the newspapers are trying to convince us will definately happen:
Patrick Kluivert to Newcastle, failing that Middlesbrough or maybe Atletico Madrid (basically they dunno)
Glasses-wearing angry short man Edgar Davids is showing his leg and doing that thumb thing to the oncoming vehicles of Chelsea, Tottenham and Liverpool managers.
Ricardo the Portuguese penalty-taking keeper is being eyed up by Liverpool gaffer Rafael Benitez (that is 'Raffo' or 'Benno' as I'm sure he's known by Freddy Boswell types).

In cricket England need to win and win well against the West Indies tomorrow at Lord's to guarentee making the final against New Zealand in the Natwest series. Andrew Flintoff will bat but not bowl again following an ankle injury. Ashley Giles may be picked ahead of one of the seamers as his wheely-bin action could be affective on the hallowed pitch.

Also in cricket, the ICC have decided to go ahead with a Test match and 3 one-dayer series between the best team in the World (almost definately those modest Aussies) and the best of the rest. BBC Sport reckon a best of the rest XI would look like this: Herschelle Gibbs (SA), Mark Richardson (NZ), Rahul Dravid (Ind), Sachin Tendulkar (Ind), Brian Lara (WI, capt.), Jacques Kallis (SA), Tatenda Taibu (Zim, wkt), Shaun Pollock (SA), Anil Kumble (Ind), Shoaib Akhtar (Pak), Muttiah Muralitharan (SL), Steve Harmison (Eng). I pay liscence fee for that? I think that's tosh to be honest. I would only pick Mark Richardson if I was struggling to sleep and had finished counting sheep. This is going to be a sponsor-friendly showcase, so even Rahul Dravid might not get in. A fit Flintoff would be a shoe-in, as would Virender Sehwag. Taibu as wicket-keeper? That'll be Boucher or maybe even Dravid surely. Mine reads: Gibbs, Sehwag, Kallis, Tendulkar, Lara, Flintoff, Boucher(wkt), Pollock, Shoaib, Murali, Harmison (Kumble 12th man).

I'll leave you good readers with a picture of Wimbledon champion Maria Sharapova.

Stav.