The best and worst of a season we won’t soon forget
Faded a touch in the run-in, eventually disappearing behind his shirt at Selhurst Park, but overall did enough to suggest Arsene Wenger should have thrown at least another fiver at Liverpool.
The title chasers and the escapologists hogged the limelight, but in a season when his club was fighting with its fans, Bruce expertly steered Hull clear of drama and still has a shot at genuine glory. Also scoops Most Effective Use of Transfer Window gong.
Rooney’s had distance, but it sat up and the keeper looked drunk; Shelvey added chest control; but Kasami combined chest, volley, an improbable angle and a helpless keeper.
From David Brent spoofer to mini-Shanks in less than two years. Almost had it all, but at least the envelope stunt now seems a long time ago.
North London’s Shergar — arrived, for over €30million, as one of the world’s biggest talents, but disappeared without trace and won’t be found in Brazil.
The Ronnie Rosenthal Memorial Bust goes to the big Bosnian, who over-complicated things from three yards in February and ended up tackling himself. At least hit the target when he booted the post in frustration.
Always had the cut of a brooding, slightly exotic, more-trouble-than-he’s-worth cameo out of something like Footballer’s Wives or Dream Team. A few strops, a headbutt, one beauty but not many other goals later; he looks made for that role.
Mocked Mourinho’s concerns about his age with an old-man hobble after making Jan Vertonghen look like the senior citizen.
His double-act with Jamie Carragher now sets the standard. Carra has arguably been the more honest and impressive when the pair discuss their old teams, but you still suspect Neville might be the brains of that operation.
Inexplicably ubiquitous.
Keane & Vieira provided best nostalgia but Scholes’ punditry bow was compelling — featuring a savage takedown of Arsenal then a launch of the coup that must have played a part in unseating Moyesy.
The two best teams in a match that had everything, down to the late refereeing howler and the emotional if ill-starred huddle — everything except a result that defined the season.
As sported by Garry Monk and Tim Sherwood. We had seen Poyet and Hughes hurl off their coats in disgust — this garment is much better suited to the petulant disrobe.
The seemingly increased affordability of having your opinion towed behind a plane.
His touchline antics had been building nicely to a major blow-up. Set out his stall with a charming reminder to Manuel Pellegrini that he was “an old c***”. In the end, the delicate headbutt on David Meyler was almost a let-down.
Rumours he was set to buy Newcastle have proved unfounded, so far. Shame — is there anybody more suited to getting maximum comic mileage out of the Geordie circus?
As far as we know, the only one of the big-money arrivals to make it through the campaign without a mistake. Its finest hour came when Lewis Holtby was denied by millimetres at Villa Park.
From beautiful young eggs in need of a dad to keep them warm; to little horses needing milk to learn how to jump; to gallant underdogs denied by wide-ranging conspiracy; the specialist in nonsense devoted most of his energy this season to evading responsibility.
Impressive though they were, Chelsea and Liverpool’s maulings of Arsenal are devalued by the visitor’s naivety; but Mourinho’s strangulation of Manchester City was a much finer testament to the Portuguese man's tactical acumen than the bus-parking at Anfield.
The great Chamberlain-Gibbs mix-up obscured the fact that we never really found out who told him it was a penalty in the first place.
What’s a couple of Argentine Championships beside the crowning career glory that is the Capital One Cup? “He’s (Pellegrini) never really won a major tournament. He’s done that now.”
A destructive Napoleon Complex seems to have destabilised one of the finest all-round midfield talents in the league.
Like all Bond villains, eventually went down, but not before pulling off one last dastardly act; winning an apology from Malky Mackay. Should be as red-faced as the shirts he makes Cardiff wear.
Last season’s biggest bargain gave a little less than Swansea bargained for this time round.
Long after Gus Poyet had begun cleaning up his mess — and probably putting ketchup back on the canteen tables — Paolo Di Canio was still talking about Paolo Di Canio and telling us: “I was too good, my level was too high.”
Plenty of contenders, but Fulham’s experiment with a GAA-style team of selectors, with Ray Wilkins and Alan Curbishley fretting behind Rene in the Bainisteoir bib, was a particularly ineffectual set-up.
The striker who sunk nobody but Chris Hughton.
If everyone’s season was defined by just six or seven games of their choosing; there wouldn’t be many better.
Man United’s 5-0 win in Leverkusen was a rare highlight of Moyesy’s spell, but Swansea’s startling 3-0 Europa League win in Valencia promised more than Michael Laudrup could ultimately deliver.
Allowed the fear factor built up over decades to evaporate early; had truly put his own stamp on proceedings by the time of the crossing binge against Fulham.
Didn’t overstretch himself on his final lap as he brought the curtain down on a lucrative 22-year-spell. BBC may retire the word ‘diabolical’ in his honour.
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