Moaning managers play blame game

IT WASN’T supposed to be an interesting week. The Cardiff Cup held few surprises, despite one giant disappointment in the loss of Sissoko.

Put it down to misfortune, especially as he almost lost an eye last season, but there’s something ungainly about him that makes you fear these ‘unlucky’ incidents will recur.

The second string limped to victory, with Bellamy’s season eerily echoing Crouch’s last year. Even penalties won’t go in and maybe he’s baited one linesman too many. If he gets a deflected goal against Wigan in December I will seriously freak out.

Apart from that, nothing untoward, you’d have thought. Then Steve Bruce starts ranting about the referee. Had I watched a different game? Apparently so.

It struck me that this tiresome trend of blame-shifting was getting out of hand, only to discover it had seriously kicked off at Goodison, stately home of the sore loser.

And Graham Poll was involved. When I recovered from my fainting spell I realised they’d forgot his bias in September’s derby and he was ‘Liver-Poll’ again. They need to watch their 3-0 DVD Special more fastidiously.

But now they had allies in acidity. You send the England captain off at your peril. Terry is a perpetual loudmouth, so the meek acceptance of his fate sparked gleeful conspiracy theorising on the web. At least they were leaving Gerrard alone. Needless to say, one theory (the player’s respect for authority) was dismissed in seconds.

There was something curiously unnerving about the way Poll was crucified, especially in these post-Frisk times. I’ve never liked the bloke but then I’m a supporter, so I’m not supposed to like referees. His fellow professionals ought to have more respect.

Was it a coincidence the same man made an almighty cock-up in the World Cup? Was he considered a soft target for picking on? It turned farcical when he was mocked for signing autographs! What’s he supposed to do, refuse? He’d definitely be criticised for arrogance then, so he can’t win and some people are delighted about that.

It was tempting to see this as another by-product of Chelsea’s pantomime villainy, but when an annoying nonentity like Moyes starts to chip in, it’s beyond a joke.

A misplaced sense of duty stops the ex-player pundits berating Andy Johnson and his thespian ilk. You can slam the foreigners, though.

We’ve somehow reached the stage where managers, players and supporters believe their viewpoint on how the game is run is equal to that of the referees and authorities. We don’t, and I’ll tell you why in one word: bias.

Few of us can remove the tinted spectacles that colour the way we view the sport. When Mourinho lectures other teams on simulation you sense we’ve passed the point of no return, and Keith Hackett’s obsequiousness isn’t going to help matters.

Six years ago Arsenal and Liverpool fans serenaded Poll with the classic “you’re not fit to referee”. At least this time it was only Clattenburg’s physical shortcomings being lambasted.

Not that there was too much singing on Sunday. Sorry Bernard, I just didn’t like the stadium. For the uninitiated it’s like Man City’s place, only bigger. Looks nice, feels wrong.

Until they were handed the three points by a Liverpool team more gutless than they were at Old Trafford (which I didn’t think was possible) it made Highbury sound like Spinal Tap turned to 11.

It was all lovely glass and steel on the outside, panoramic views (of a building site admittedly) — for the home fans.

The away end was the usual grey no-thrills boredom you find at any old ground. Inside it was just Identikit New Stadium, presumably picked out of a catalogue. Every Liverpool fan’s futureshock.

Maybe I’d be less grumpy if I’d seen a contest of some kind, especially in a shocking second half.

Rafa’s played the Big Three away in nine league games and lost the lot. Even Bryan Robson did better than that. I’d always hoped he was a true pragmatist, as opposed to Houllier’s obsession with being proved right, whatever the damage.

If he genuinely thought Zenden had more to offer in the centre than Gerrard then fine, but that would only open up a different can of worms. Not one player attempted to make up for the loss of Sissoko by working harder. It was a disgrace, frankly.

At least we managed to avoid the rumoured huge queues outside Arsenal station, to get back to the car at Cockfosters and be home by 10. Just in time to not watch the ‘highlights’ of a shoddy disturbing performance.

Phone-in rats are already exiting the sinking ship. Maybe they’ll be clamouring back on board in a few weeks. But if we lose on Saturday they’ll be shouting “come in, the water’s fine” — and there’ll be a bigger splash.