Gerard Houllier is an Arsehole

In an interview to Sky Sports last night, Gerard Houllier reminded me that he was an arsehole.

First, commenting on Tiago's booking that would keep him out of Lyon's second leg tie at Milan, he described the midfielder as 'sacrificing himself for the team'. Effectively he was condoning the player for making a cynical foul on Kaka late on in the game. He also added that Lyon had been missing Juninho Pernambucano, who he referred to as their 'star player'. Effectively this is isolating a single player as the side's 'star', insinuating that he is better than the rest.

Houllier has a history of displaying the grace of an elephant, and in my opinion is guilty of one of the worst crimes ever committed against football. As the Manager of France in 1993, Houllier's Blues needed a draw against Bulgaria to qualify for the 1994 World Cup in America. As a late sub, David Ginola found himself in a good position near the corner flag, with the score tied at 1-1. Ginola crossed the ball into the area, a Bulgarian intercepted it, drove up the field and slotted to through Emil Kosdadinov, who promptly scored the winner for Bulgaria (left), ending France's hopes of qualifying.

In the post-match press conference, rather than protecting Ginola from a media backlash, or taking any responsibility for the woeful underachievement of the national team, Houllier stated, on national television:

"David Ginola is the murderer of the team ... he sent an Exocet missile through the heart of French football ... David Ginola committed a crime against the team, I repeat, a crime against the team."

Ginola never played for France again. Even after winning the PFA and Football Writer's player of the year awards in 1997, Bernard Diomede was the preferred choice on the left wing for France under Houllier's successor Aime Jaquet.

Ergo...Houllier is an arsehole.

For the record, anyone who thinks Houllier deserves the credit for Lyon's current form is wrong. Three years ago Paul Le Guen (the new Ranger's manager) revolutionised the Lyon team, winning two Championats in a row, before deciding to leave. Houllier merely picked up the reins of a fantastic team, has barely changed it, and has managed not to fuck up.

Gor Blimery Guvernir, Mate.

I recently had the, erm, pleasure of watching trhe latest cinematic offering on English football hooliganism; Green Street. This one I had a particular interest in as the firm in focus were supposed to be a West Ham firm. Here are my impressions


Good Bits
1) Nice to see West Ham on the silver screen
2) Just about passable performances by the guy playing 'The Major' and the guy who was the head of the Millwall firm
3) Decent last half an hour-good fight scenes if you're into that kind of thing.
4) Elijah Wood's sister is fit.

Bad Bits
1) Clearly unimpressed with Don Cheadle's magnificent attempt in Oceans 11 to pull off the worst cockney accent in the history of entertainment, whoever put this film together decided to give the role of the top boy of West Ham's firm to an ozzie actor, Charlie Hunnam (above), whose accent is possibly the most annoying thing i've ever heard. Unfortunatly, his character is the pivot of the entire film. He's good at being angry, shit at being cockney. Imagine Vinnie Jones playing a Yakuza mobster.
2) These films always try too hard. Unfortunatley it seems virtually impossible for actors to act like football hooligans without looking like that kid at school who tried to convince everyone he had got into a football fight once by swaggering a bit, using the 'fackin hell' vernacular, and saying 'waaaaaay' sometimes. In fact everyone knew that kid was just a middle-class tryhard, essentially just like these actors.
3) Annoying bits- trains to Manchester do not leave from Kings Cross, 'bubbles' is always sung with arms in the air, East London hospital does not exist. Could go on, but wont.
4) Tried to copy the formula of I.D. (which is actually the best hooligan film out there, still not that good though) New guy(s) infiltrate firm, get very involved and find themselves enjoying it, scandal when found out whether falsely or not, all goes tits up...yadda yadda
5) These films have missed the boat. This kind of stuff doesn't really happen any more. Old Bill are all over it. Was still around in the late eighties early nineties (when ID was made), but trying to recreate it in a contemporay environment is missing the point. And somewhat glorifying it. Getting the train away from Bolton away recently, i saw a bunch of scally wannabe thugs chucking stuff at the train chanting 'where's your fucking GLE' (GLE being the firm in the film).

As usual, if you know nothing about the English football scene, let alone hooliganism, you might enjoy it. Otherwise it is really quite annoying.

Moral of the story: films about football hooliganism could be really good. But never are.

Political Football

Recently i had the chance to indulge two of my interests at the same time. For a module i am doing on Israeli politics, i gave a presentation on the impact of football on the Arab-Israeli conflict, specifically the role it plays in exacerbating/dissolving the ethnic cleavages within Israel itself.

The link is a transcript of the presentation, a little rough around the edges, but you'll get the jist.

Full Transcript

Mourinho Boo-Boo Number Two!

Two blogs in one day you lucky lot...I couldn't help myslelf...you'll understand.

So, it turns out the best team in West London is...Fulham! And you won't believe it, it happened again...Mourinho messed up!

Despite having constructed the finest squad the Premiership has ever seen (I won't mention how much it cost, that would be boring) Mourinho's style is mainly about, well, style. The Special One does a lot of things for the sake of image, essentially this is what he is about. He jaunts around, the personification of arrogance, and this rubs off on his team- often seemingly invinveable: they have walked the Premiership. He runs out first at Barcelona to take the flack for his team- not before telling the world he was going to do so. An sometimes, when he's feeling most rebellious, he makes a double substitution after 23 minutes. What a renegade, he just doesn't give a shit. But let me be the first to say 'José fucked up, na na na na na' (in a very annoying voice)

Unfortunately Jose my friend, image can be very important in football, but it will not tanslate in raw tactics. A double substitution after 23 minutes has to be the most egotistical substitutions of them all. The headlines write themselves, 'Mourinho master-stroke changes game!'...'Double-switch saves the day!' and so on. Essentially, like changing the lineup against Barcelona...the change is mainly about image. By doing so Mourinho wanted the turnaround to be because of something he did.

Tactically both decisions were questionable. I have discussed at lenght the defficiencies of his lineup at the Camp Nou. Yesterday's decicion showed similar impatience. Shaun Wright-Phillips was having a poor game, and hadn'r beaten their left-back once. But SWP is one of those players who gets tackled 5 times in a row, before skinning his man at the 6th attempt and setting up a goal. He was having a stinker when he came on for England against Uruaguay, and then he set up the goal...for Joe Cole. Joe Cole is on the form of his life, but was another victim of the Mourinho ego-tactic.

Mourinho tried to make a tactical masterstroke, but forgot the tactical bit, battering the confidence of Cole and SWP in the process (the looks on their face when they trotted off said it all). The variation of 4-3-3 that Mourinho- to his credit- has mastered at Chelsea is the key to their success: two defensive midfielders behind Lampard, two attacking wingers behind Crspo/Drogba. BUT, twice in a row when he has found himself in trouble he has deviated from this formula, this time changing to an akward 4-4-2, rather than having faith in his players, and a bit of patience- but in both cases moving the onus to him.

When this works, he looks like a genius. When it doesn't (Camp Nou, Craven Cottage) he deservadly looks like a twat.

The Charm of Siria B

Whilst in Sicily this weekend i went to the second Siria B game of my life... Catania Vs. Triestino (1-1)

I first saw a Siria B game about three years ago when me and two friends decided to watch Venezia whilst in Venice. The game stood out for two reasons; firstly it was really quite poor- the gulf in class between Siria A and B makes the Championship look sexy by comparison. Secondly it was the scene of perhaps my greatest footballing faux pas. Having grown a centurianesque strap of facial hair for the occasion, I suplemented my unmistakeable Italianness by buying a replica Venezia top...No 9: Stefan Schwoch. I couldn't lose. But I did.

A brief glance down the team sheet revealed that Mr Schwoch had recently been transferred to the visiting team Vicenza, and proceeded to score the two goals that beat Venezia on the day 2-1. Needless to say the offending item was sheepishly removed poste haste. Schowch is pictured above in Vicenza colours.

The Catania-Triestino game was similarly shite, but again was made stroy-worth by a series of heart-warming moments. I hadn't actually planned to go to the game and at 2pm i was on a train an hour outside of Catania on the slopes of Etna. Normally when I'm away i will try to catch a local game, but recently introduced anti-violence legislation has made doing this in Italy a bit of a hassle- each ticket has to be pre-bought and personalised.

I met a guy on the train in Catania colours (red and white) who proceeded to talk to me for an hour about how Catania was his life before passing me onto an old man who i was told would take me to the stadium. I was quite confused by the whole thing, i tried explaining that i didn't have a ticket but this didn't seem to matter. I was even more confused, and then touched, when the first guy bid me fairwell with a kiss on each cheek- it seems even Italian football hooligans roll like this.

The walk to the stadium with the old man was brilliant. I said things like 'Del Piero..magnifico!' and he said things like 'Rooney...eeeeeeh', and so on. The international language of football my friends. When we got there the old man started talking to a grizzled dodgy-looking type and then asked me for 20 euros, which for some reason i gave him. For a moment i thought it was going to be one of those stories, but sure enough a ticket for the curva nord was thrust in my hand...in the name of one Salvatore Costentino.

I had three minutes to become Salvatore, and having adjusted my walk slightly i was amazed that the security man asked to see some ID. At this stage my little old man launched into a tirade of defence, justiculating in frenzied animation. Within seconds I was in the ground, with the old amn slapping me on the back smuggly reoeating 'mo problemo, no problemo'. My hero. When in Sicily I guess...

As with all Italian games, there was really two show going on: the Ultras conducting the crowd with loudspeakers (v interesting) and the game itself (less so). It always amazes me that almost two hours before Italian games the Ultras are already arriving unravelling their flags. The guys with the loudspeakers don't even watch the game. Nutters. Anyway...Forza Catania, Palermo Merda!

P.s. if you ver find yourself football-starve in Italy on a Sunday, head to a betting shop, one of the few establishments that do not abide by the Catholic tradition of shutting everything on Sundays (pretty mean considering Pope John Paul II was apparantly a mean goalie in his youth). The shops show English, Italian and Spanish football all day, through a haze of cigarette smoke and local banter.

One In, One Out (oh, and another two out)

So, the first knockout stage of the Champions League is over for our British teams. My reflections:

Chelsea Vs. Barcelona
Player for player, Chelsea are better than Barcelona. As a friend of mine commented, however, Chelsea are a ‘solid’ team: virtually all 8 out of 10 players, with perhaps Crespo and Lampard poking the boundaries of world class. Ronaldinho is a 10 out of 10 player, and has the capacity to nullify the collective worth of a team full of 8s.

Secondly, something that I think is often overlooked is the quality of Barcelona’s defence. I believe Marquez (above right) to be vastly underrated, and commands the Barca defence, Terry style. Puyol on form is one of the best defenders in the world. Oleguer and Van Bronkhorst are decent, and Edmilson and Motta do the job cleaning up. Their main strength, however, is organisation. Whilst they may not be individually brilliant, Barca are a team that know how to defend. Over two legs they conceded a single goal (lets face it Chelsea’s penalty last night was a joke) to a team that has pissed all over the Premiership. They didn’t give Chelsea’s creative players time on the ball, and closed down Chelsea attacks from midfield quickly and firmly. I don’t need to say anything about Barca’s attack.

Thirdly, drumroll, I feel Mourinho made a tactical error in the second leg. Chelsea needed to score twice at the Camp Nou, and the special one decided to do this by twisting rather than sticking. By moving Cole to central midfield he changed the formula that has made Chelsea so formidable this year. The players often seemed unsure what to do when they had the ball, and the usual options weren’t presenting themselves. This is because they were forced to get used to something new at the same time as trying to win the most important match they have had all year.

Mourinho’s line-up was deliberately attacking, but they can be as attacking as they want with their tried and tested midfield, they just needed to go for it. They missed Gudjonsson’s distribution in the middle pinging it out to Cole and Robben on the wings. Joe Cole is awesome on his game, but he is not the type of player to sit in the middle of the park and run proceedings. Cole is always going to attack defences, so let him do it from the wing, rather than having him in the centre where his marauding requires Lampard to be more restrained than otherwise. It sounds odd, but even playing Maniche instead of Duff would have meant Chelsea could have attacked in a format they know well and are more likely to succeed with: two defensive midfielders freeing Lampard to get on the ball and have a crack, and their two best wingers, Cole and Robben, twisting up the flanks.

Arsenal Vs. Real Madrid
As I have commented previously, there are fundamental problems at Real Madrid, all of which reared their head tonight. Ronaldo was lazy, Zidane did what he could (which to be honest is not much anymore) and tactically Caro got it all wrong. From the kick-off Real tried to lift balls towards a deeply unimpressive Ronaldo for him to hold up or try to break through the Arsenal defence. Arsenal’s highly motivated defence were all over him from the outset, winning virtually every ball in the air, and yet Real Madrid kept on trying the same tactic for 90 minutes.

Simultaneously, Arsenal play best against teams that try to play 'proper', open football against them. This is because, chances are, they are better than you at it. They stutter when Robbie Savages are glued to their hips pinching their ears. Closing down voraciously and maintaining a tight combative midfield is not in Real Madris's DNA, especially when they have to win. Graveson is big, strong and has a skinhead. He is not, however, a defensive midfielder and never has been. He has good distribution and a decent strike, but does not have a defensive mentality and had no idea how to deal with an Arsenal midfield expert at scurrying. In any case, when Guti dropped and played the libero role he looked much better in front of the back two than Graveson. Neither of them kept up with Arsenal all night.

Hleb (right) looked like he had been playing the Arsenal way all his life, and together with Fabregas (who I have underrated), Ljungberg and an ever-present Uncle Thierry cut up a desperate looking Real midfield with vintage Arsenal geometric passing. Even Reyes had a good game as he did in the first leg, despite missing a sitter, noticeably raising his game for the Spanish audience. Ebou and Toure made a number of forward runs which split the priorities of the Real midfield and defence, eliminating a ‘keep to your man’ defensive strategy. Henry was all on his own up front. He is, however, one of the two players in the world (the other being Ronaldinho) who it is seemingly impossible to outnumber. All in all, the best team won.

Rangers Vs Villareal, Liverpool Vs. Benfica
Neither team had the quality to progress. In reality Rangers wouldn’t have thought they had. Liverpool, mistakenly, thought they did. Wake up! Gerrard id the only world class player they have, their strikers are not (or no longer) in any way prolific, they need two more quality midfielders, and more depth in defence. Until these problems are remedied they have no right to complain at not being in the quarter-finals of the greatest club tournament in the world.

I will say this only once. It feels dirty but I’m going to do it. Well done Arsenal, and good luck.

Terrace Humour

Cheers to KUMB for this, some rib-tickling terrace melodies...no offence...to anyone!!

To the tune of The Addams Family, by fans visiting Norwich:

"Your sister is your mother Your uncle is your brother You all f@*k one another The Norwich family der der der der clap clap etc"

Sung at Highbury when Cygan is drafted in as emergency cover...

"He's bald, He's sh*t, He gets a game when no-one's fit, Pascal Cygan! Pascal Cygan!"

Sung at Liverpool:

"He's big, he's red, his feet stick out of Bed, Peter Crouch, Peter Crouch"

To the tune of Craig David - Rewind:

"VAN PER-SIE, WHEN A GIRL SAYS NO - MOLEST HER"

To Graham Rix when he was released from prison after being convicted for, well, you know... (To the Manic Street Preachers song):

"If you tolerate RIX, then your children will be next"

A song about Tim Howard's tourettes syndrome, chim-cmimeny style.....

"Tim timminy, Tim timminy, Tim Tim Tirooo
We've got Tim Howard and he says F*CK YOU!!"

Toon fans to JF Hasselbaink. He even laughed!:

"You're just a fat Eddie Murphy"

Manyoo fans to the G-Unit, to the tune of 'Rebel, Rebel':

"Neville Neville, you play in defence,
Neville Neville, your play is immense,
Neville Neville, like Jacko you're bad,
Neville Neville is the name of your dad"

Scousers:

"Don't blame it on the Biscan,
Don't blame it on the Hamann,
Don't blame it on the Finnan,
Blame it on Traore,
He just can't, He just can't, He just can't control his feet. He just can't, He just can't, He just can't control his feet."

Celtic fans to Andy Goram after its revealed the chubby keeper was diagnosed with Schizophrenia:

"Two Andy Gorams, there's only two Andy Gorams..."

Hahahaha.