July 31 – 2007
I was recently informed by the Union of Bloggers and Other Fake Journalists that I had a choice: I could either move into my parents basement, or I could run a series involving a bracket-style competition decided by highly subjective and ultimately meaningless criteria. I could no longer, they said, remain a member of the union without satisfying one (or both) of these requirements. Dicks.
I’ve long been flirting with the idea of abandoning my 7 year romance with West Ham and could possibly be in the market for a new club. To find out, I’ve organized a battle royale featuring all 20 Premiership squads. The teams are seeded according to last year’s table with the bottom five and 3 newcomers randomly drawn into into the pigtails. As far as methodology goes, I have none. I simply hope to talk through the match-ups, weigh pros and cons, and solicit the opinions of the small handful of extremely knowledgeable readers here at the ‘Nista. The winning club will be mine, kit purchases and all.
West Ham will start on equal footing, and I’ll explore my reasons for possible defection when they face Derby later this week.
On a serious note: My son is now 17 months old, and is giving fairly clear signals that he will be every bit as footie-obsessed as his jackass father. As these things go, the team I select will likely be his team as well (or at least until he begins to sexually covet his mom and so feels the need to symbolically kill
me my team). I don’t take the responsibility of choosing my son’s first club lightly.
So let’s get started…