Hammered: football, just how low can you go?

WEST HAM were finally nailed over Tevez, ending two years of outrageous buck-passing and selective eyesight.

Sheffield United will now haggle over money, just as Spurs did over Berbatov and Keane, just like everyone does in the end.

The cockneys became prickly and cited Sheffield’s atrocious results to prove relegation was their own fault, missing the point entirely. The rules were broken. That has cost clubs points in the past: Leeds, Bournemouth, Luton, Rotherham.

We Reds looked the other way, and not just because that oddball Warnock dusted off his soapbox (again). We hoped no one recalled Mascherano also wore claret and blue whilst owned by a third party. It doesn’t take the media long to get a little associative guilt going.

Seriously, how many transfers would stand up to the strictest possible scrutiny? This is the tip of the iceberg surely?

The return of the Carling Cup also saw tons of empty seats, giving the Crewe match a nostalgic hue. Ah, Robbie scoring five against Fulham before 10,000 die-hards. Coming back from 0-3 to draw with mighty Chesterfield in front of even less.

The memories anaesthetised the pain of watching this routine pap.

Only Arsenal could be proud of their numbers, cleverly turning the midweek cup into An Event and a source of pride. In contrast Rafa dangled the promise of derby selection, knowing full well they had no chance. Our kids don’t even make the bench in these meaningless games.

Indeed the two players who stood out — Hyypia and Pennant — were never going to grace the blue barn. The rest, Agger aside, resembled bored understudies wondering how to spell ‘futile’.

We’ve been squabbling over Arsene’s prodigies. Media sycophancy overload, or proof that something’s awry within our own playground?

If Wenger (still using Fowler as the benchmark, bless him) goes another year without a trophy he might still justify a ‘work in progress’, while Rafa would be flogged unremittingly and probably out of a job. Style provides exquisite camouflage — until you lose to Hull.

Saturday was much more like it. Using public transport to reach Goodison Park? Don’t recommend it. You’re like Woody Allen on the ‘Stardust Memories’ train, outnumbered and disturbed, snippets of overheard conversation making you thank the Lord (and your dad) you’re a Red.

Respite came outside the away end, friendly faces replacing scowls and suspicion. Only on derby day are you a stranger in your own town. Blues have become rather adept at these psychic wars, though rumours of Everton initiating a survey that subsequently confirmed we outnumber them 2-1 within ‘their’ city must surely be mischievous!

Jokes about Norwegians (though never about the Irish or the Welsh strangely) are repetitive and moronic, but whatever gets them through the night I suppose. One hopes they were a comfort after another foreigner ripped their heart out.

What an odd game Torres had, irritable and distant for much of it. I had him pegged for a red card at one stage. One magical moment later, and he looked like scoring with every touch and nearly did.

We passed well for much of the game, albeit with little end product in the first half. The loss of Mascherano might have left us short of the Sturm und Drang deemed obligatory on such occasions, but Kuyt took Javier’s workload while Alonso supplied calm and guile.

Dirk was dreadful against Stoke but thrived in yet another big game. He was a star of last year’s European campaign and excelled against United too. He’s often the scapegoat in times of struggle so a little praise is overdue.

And a red card for the flagpole pugilist as well. Christmas came early this year. As Cahill stayed arrogantly away from the scene of his crime, did Riley have an Ashley Cole flashback and decide enough was enough?

When Moyes is done whining about ‘small club’ jibes, perhaps he’d like to explain where this €100m gap in transfer fees comes from? You can’t have it both ways.

They’ll swallow his BS though because they’ve no other option. The truth would kill them.

We may have had better times in that hideous wooden shack (it trembled alarmingly during the Torres Bounce) but this was sweet enough.