Euro glory always the target
It took a while to decipher the stratagem and I’m reluctant to discredit the conspiracy theory after this reddest of herrings. Even his son’s taking a slap now! Few fans ever doubted the manager’s ability on the European stage and it was hard not to sympathise with him last week.
Win, and it ‘proved’ he was more concerned with Champions League glitter than with domestic drudgery.
Lose, and our season’s over. He’d have to pack his bags to avoid further embarrassment by staining the kind of CV most European clubs still envy.
Focus and commitment were total, and not just on the pitch. These are such great occasions, and you do begin to wonder who the fans are trying to kid when they claim the league must be the priority.
Or do they pick up signals from the manager and the team, then act accordingly?
When we scored against Sunderland I stood to applaud. When Gerrard’s late strike crept in the corner I flew three rows down in an almost orgiastic embrace with a total stranger, flattening anyone stupid enough to stray into our path.
The result was casually, inevitably dismissed by the press corps, the scent of Rafa’s blood in their nostrils clouding their judgement.
One former Benitez acolyte even described the win as “smash and grab” — a frankly moronic assessment of events that even notorious Rafa-baiters in the redtops balked at.
Materazzi’s dismissal had its effect and only the chauvinistic would deny it, but he was already finding Torres to hot to handle.
It’s not often our players can teach the great Zidane anything: “don’t get mad, get even!”
Whether the Italian cart horse (once a blue, always a blue) was up to his usual whispering tricks, no one will ever know. Does Torres even have a sister to swap shirts with? The jaded still found cause for complaint. Our crossing and set pieces were all terrible. Gerrard’s goal was exceptional, but you sensed he only chanced his arm because another centre would have failed abysmally to reach its target.
All of this stuff can be improved on the training ground surely — so why is it getting worse? Where else does practice make imperfect? Middlesbrough arrived and enthusiasm waned, rampant players replaced by sluggish lookalikes and vein-popping fans supplanted by soporific clones.
As much as it would impact on the coffers, the battle for fourth place just doesn’t get the pulses racing.
There’s a significant reduction in the quality and importance of most Premiership clubs. Identikit dullards you couldn’t pick out of a line-up, even if you’d watched them slap your granny with a sock full of sludge.
This year’s seen improvement in the traditionally bigger clubs, and surely Spurs will challenge next season too. The rest are interchangeable, to the point where relegating the bottom eight would barely register.
Things livened up when we fell behind, but I find bitching about offside beneath contempt. It’s a stupid rule and ought to have been discarded years ago.
The fabulous Torres put us in charge. Would you say despite being solo up front or because of it? We know what Rafa thinks because of his Valencia days.
The team switched off again and the crowd went into hibernation assuming the worst was over, instinctively knowing how the rest of the game would pan out.
One does not of course like to stereotype but a panicky last 10 minutes was averted by Mascherano’s Argentine tendencies fooling another generous referee. Our luck for once seems to be in.
Viewed in isolation this was as good a week as the previous one was damaging, but it will take a lot more to suppress dissent for manager or owners.
I’d like to wish Eduardo all the best. Such horror transcends rivalries.
* Steven Kelly
CONNECT WITH US TODAY
Be the first to know the latest news and updates
