Transfer rumors are so much better when sub-titled to scenes from Downfall. NSFW, if you have folks reading over your shoulder.

Via Unprofessional Foul and CNN:

Referee Sergei Shmolik was helped off the field with back pain while officiating a Belarus league match, but later was shown to be drunk.

And the next time anyone asks, “have you been drinking?” I’m definitely going with, “No, bad back.”

Yep. Wayne wants it known that if you peel back his skin to reveal bone, you might find the following inscription:

“Just Enough Education to Perform”

Now, you might be thinking, “Hmmm. Somewhat clever.” Until, of course, you realize that “just enough” is actually “none at all.” England, you see, makes sure their footballers don’t bother with stuff like education. After all, how much education do you need if you’ re built like the Incredible Hulk and can kick a ball straight?

And anyway, it’s an album title from Wayne’s favorite band, Stereophonics. No, they aren’t good – unless you think it would be totally awesome if the Black Crowes and Audio Slave united and developed welsh accents.

But the real victim here is Colleen. Her chav-for-life not only got a “freeze-this-moment-in-time” band tattoo, he also entered the dangerous territory of “medical tattoos.” I can imagine worse choices, but still.

You pretty much get carte-blanche for celebrating a Euro victory, and far be it from me to tell the Spanish what to do with their scalped jerseys…BUT: there are probably more respectful ways of marking your territory than conga-lining the post-game interviews. Like peeing under the door of the German locker room, or something.

You might think it impossible be to shocked by the behavior of Joey Barton. “All the cigar-stubbing, pants dropping, and training ground-beating has pretty much sapped my ability to register surprise,” you say. Well, feast your eyes on the recently released CCTV footage of Barton’s infamous McDonald’s Christmas Assault. Or preserve your faith in humanity, and don’t.

Newcastle have been in the running for my support: if they don’t sack Barton purely on the madness captured in this clip, they will BE no longer.

Watching a Euro final from the ruralest of rural America can alert one to some fairly significant conlusions…a few of which might even be about football. A sampling:

• For all the talk of the lumbering German center-backs, was that really what undid Germany? How ’bout the fact Michael Ballack couldn’t control a midfield populated by diminutive Spanish gnats.
• In Sweet Home, Oregon, one can decry skyrocketing food prices even if one is 100-150 pounds overweight. This can be done without irony. Actually, anything can be done without irony, as it has yet to be discovered here.
• Spain, newsflash, are the best team in Europe. Coincidentally, they also won Euro 2008. And that’s why no one is complaining after Sunday’s final. The best team won, and don’t it feel right.
• My mother-in-law is obsessed with disinfectant wipes; Lysol, Clorox, and Windex have apparently cut out the paper towel middle-man, and now deliver their poison straight onto a wipe. She has the fuckers stashed everywhere. All this fretting about bacteria, and yet this is the same woman who gladly purchases ‘Manager’s Special” meat that is past the sell-by date. And it just hit me: maybe she wipes the meat.
• Germany had enough dead-ball opportunities to level the score, but the Germans forgot how to strike a ball. Thomas Hitzelsperger, a ball-striker extrordinaire if ever there was one, looked like Jeff Agoos
• .. Schweinsteiger’s technique wasn’t much better. The point is probably moot, however, as Casillas showed that he handles crosses better than any keeper in the world. Petr Cech is lining up tutoring lessons as we speak.
• My step-father-in-law took me fishing, and didn’t let me handle a fishing pole. Not once. He claimed it had to do with licensing, but it rang of bullshit. I can’t wait to invite him to a strip-club, then leave his ass in the car.
• Was there a team in the tournament who might have given Spain a serious hassle? Yes, and their name is Portugal. The ‘Geezers have the individual skill to match the Spaniards, and the Iberian fire to rile them up past their comfort zone. David Silva’s little head-nudge against Podolski turns into a
• Torres brushed Lahm aside for the game-winner. Lahm can now brush aside any notion of himself as a world-class defender.
• I fed a donkey yesterday.
• Ooohh, did Andy Gray become tiresome or what? I was excited to hear from Gray for the first week, then kind of ignored him, then became downright annoyed. Using super-slowmo to pick apart player’s technique should land you in some third ring of hell where you’re forced to watch, and critique, super-slowmo clips of pogo mishaps.

And so it’s on to Idaho – I’m sure that will be better. When does the Prem start again?

Well, he’s locked up a profitable tournament – par, really, for the Czech man. To make things interesting, we’re giving him a $20 mythical wager on the final (he now stands at $141.78). Let’s see if he can close.

18-12: pretty damn good, if I do say myself! Should be an entertaining final, and I’m still pondering my pick as I write this. By the way, I watched Portland play Carolina in a USL matchup on Friday. Has anyone watched one of these games lately?? Well, it’s quite fast, out of control, and a strange mix of some really good players and some really bad ones. But the most interesting aspect of the game was when one of the announcers compared a relationship between two of the Portland players to that of Podolski and Schweinsteiger. WHAT? That guy do crack before the game?? Onwards….

I’m torn. Looks like no Ballack for Germany and no Villa for Spain. Some might suggest the loss of these two offset each other but I beg to differ as I believe Ballack to be A LOT more important to his side than Villa to his. By no means am I suggesting Villa isn’t the quality of Ballack, rather Spain have more on the bench to make up for the loss.

Both teams have been quite good going forward but I think the difference is in the back and in goal. I’m an Arsenal fan but I hate Jens Lehman with all my heart; that fucking guy is the biggest mental midget on the face of this planet. It also seems to me that the German back line often get caught in bad positions; I think it’s partly because the outside backs get caught going forward and partly because the center-backs are slow. Really slow.

Something is pulling me towards the Germans though; it’s that sixth sense if you will– intuition. But fuck intuition. I love Torres and so I’m on Spain. Spain win this game and the Czech bows out at 19-12 for the tourney.

Until we meet again…

Today, I will awake to the smell of elk steaks and biscuits. I will roll out of the hide-a-bed and into the kitchen. The sounds of Good Morning America blaring from a 21-inch TV will greet me. I will successfully deny a morning whiskey shot. I will attempt to deny, then be forced to accept, a Red Eye – half tomato juice, half beer. I will suck it down dutifully, wincing with every salty sip. Elk, biscuit, Red Eye…Elk, biscuit, Red Eye…

A pre-Eurofinal ritual? Nope. I won’t even see the game. I’m on family “vacation,” visiting the in-laws in a small logging town in the mountains of Oregon. “Sweet Home,” they call it. “Football-less prison of cultural dystopia,” I call it.

Not all is lost, however – an uncle with TiVo is recording the match while I’m fishing with “step-dad” (and by “fishing” I mean drinking heavily while pretending to listen to theories on lure choice and water temperature). With luck, I’ll be watching kick-off about the time fish guts are being mixed into “Nana’s” rose garden with a rototiller. Soon after, I hope to learn the answer to some pressing questions:

• Is Cesc Fabregas a more than adequate replacement for David Villa? If yes, and he steers the Spanish ship into the winner’s circle, does that make him the second best player in the world? It sounds a bit audacious, but I invite you to recall his abbreviated performances in this tournament and come up with another choice.
• Or is Michael Ballack the second best player in the world? He does nothing to pull the strings of my heart, but he is in top form. A performance tomorrow could cement his status as an all-time German great.
• Is Lukas Podolski a true flanker, or an out of position striker? One more good performance changes his position forever, and massively increases his transfer value.
• Is Marcos Senna the most underrated player in the tournament? That one is already a yes, but it’s always nice seeing opinions validated.
• Can I make it through ten minutes tomorrow without being called “soccer fag,” a “soccer pussy,” or a “gay soccer pussy?” Probably not. And definitely not considering my impending decision to wear a v-neck t-shirt and straw fedora on the fishing trip.

Enjoy tomorrow, folks – it should be a treat. The football, that is.

Update: Looks like Ballack won’t go. Sorry, immortality.

Update, Update: Ballack did go…nowhere. Nice cut, though.

Lukey’s Russia pick was one of the most inspired selections in recent memory, if not one of the most historically ironic – who backs their former invaders? Can you imagine Ivan the Pole getting behind Nazi Germany? Or “Wind In His Hair the Sioux” placing bets on the US? Hard choices, my friends.

Those hard choices, though, have Lukey living in Profitsville: $147.58 to be exact. Let’s see what he has in the way of semi-final action.

Last time I Czeched, I was 17-11. I’m still baffled by Turkey and how they have survived this long, and yes, the Czech loss still stings. Frankly, I just can’t endorse Turkey against the Germans. Am I really to bet on a team coached by a dude that looks like a used camel salesman? I think not.

Really, it’s been quite a miracle that they have survived this long, and although I admire their fight it ends here. The Germans were great against Portugal, attacking football by the team that everyone considers so “efficient and robotic”. No more Turkish luck here, it’s nothing but brats and Becks from here on out….Achtung: Germans win!!!

Wow, how good were the Russians; what a pleasure to watch! By the way, my second experience of soccer in Chicago was great – never thought I’d be cheering on the Russians but there I was, going nuts as I watched Arshavin take apart the Dutch, as predicted. I really think Holland were a bit overrated and so it’s difficult for me to tell how good Russia really are. The biggest mistake you can make in betting is to let your emotions have a part in your decision making – not going to happen folks. Russia are young, fit, gifted, and attack with reckless abandon. And did I mention they have arguably the best player in the tournament? I’m on Russia again…Russia win…RU-SI-A, RU-SI-A, RU-SI-A!!!!

Little over a day out from the semis and my quarterfinal buzz still hasn’t faded. Russia have stolen my heart, Germany and Spain have earned my respect, and Turkey have caused me to question the true nature of the cosmos. Honestly: Have you ever seen anything like their comeback against Croatia? I haven’t.

I know nothing of Turkey. I know nothing of Turks. And whereas I usually rely on ethnic stereotyping to explain success (”Those Germans – so efficient!”), in the Turk’s case I’ve got nothing.

Therefore, we might have to come up with some actual reasons why Turkey are able to continually fashion improbable victories from certain defeat. If you will:

• They know they are bad. As a result, they seem totally prepared to weather long stretches of the game in which the ball rarely leaves their own penalty area, let alone their own half. They don’t fray at the edges under the pounding, and they don’t turn on each other – they just take the abuse. Once the other team lets up, Turkey don’t even need time to regroup; they transition seamlessly from poundee to pounder.
• They hit the ball on target. From what I can gather, Turkish children split their time equally between prayer and finishing drills. I’d be surprised if there were another team at Euro 2008 with a higher proportion of shots on goal. When they get chances, they make good.
• They are fit. You can’t produce last minute heroics without legs under you. In every match, Turkey seem as lively in the final moments, if not livelier, than they do in the first moments of the match. In the Czech Republic game, the Turks literally looked like they could go another hour, while the Czechs were over it after 80 minutes.
• They are desperate. All but twelve of Turkey’s players are now injured, suspended, or both. The result is an “all hands on deck” mentality that places the survival of the team above all else. Just fielding a team is an exercise in courage.
• They pursue the ball. Sorry. Couldn’t resist.
• They don’t quit. Painfully fucking obvious, I know, but Turkey really do believe that the game should be played to the final whistle. Watch the replays of the Croatian goal celebrations: those guys won, the game was over, and they knew it. Luka Modric was elated, collapsed to the ground, and started thinking about the semis where they would face a team they had already beaten. Slaven Bilic was ready to do some drugs and bang some metal groupies. Croatia was in the dressing room. Turkey? They were looking to get the ball forward. And score.
• Their coach, though needing to fasten a button or two, has his players ears. Scorer of two game-winners now, supersub Semih Senturk said of coach Fatih Terim, “Our coach treats every player like he is their father…When he comes to me he says ‘just play football, I know your talents’. He is the best coach I have ever worked with.” That level of respect can squeeze every last drop out of a performance.

That’s a start. And while I don’t have any stereotypes to fall back on, I do have wikipedia: it says that Turkey have been fighting with Greece for over 1000 years. Apparently the national hatred runs deep enough to cause Turks to, even today, youtube low production value hate-videos with atrocious spelling and Smurf-techno scores. Maybe it’s hatred for the Greeks that gives the Turks that extra push against their opponents. Regardless, it’s been a fun ride, but I’m betting the machine like, scat-porn loving Germans end this Turkish fairytale.

I can never tell the difference between Carlos Puyol and Jay Reatard. Was it Puyol who punched out the dumb Canadian kid at his punk rock show in Montreal, and Reatard who choked out teammate Vicente Rodriguez in a training ground scuffle? Or was it the other way around?

Consider this an open thread to celebrate the fact that Luca Toni will no longer be featured in this tournament…

Lukey’s slowly gaining back his profits after the nightmare of 4 days ago. His mythical bankroll now stands at $134.08, and he’s hoping to run up some good results going into the Euro break. His picks follow.

15-11 so far, and I’m blaming Turkey for not having a better record!

Two things happened to me yesterday that blew my mind. First, Turkey somehow won again – what’s with these guys? Croatia dominates, scores, blows a 1 goal lead and then proceeds to miss two penals. And not just miss, they missed the f’ing goal; are you kidding me? When is the last time you watched a penal shootout and two guys completely missed the goal – unreal!

Second, I’m in Chicago and had to go to a bar to watch the game; EVERY TV in the place has the cubs/white sox game on – every single one. I had to get the bar-lady to change the channel on one TV in the corner of the bar to the game. I understand the cubs/white sox game (these teams play 161 games a year, who cares if you miss one) rivalry but my understanding of Chicago is as an international city…yah right…soccer fans, my ass! I could have just as well gone down to my local “kokamo joes” in Phoenix and watched the game. I’m giving it another chance tomorrow for the Holland – Russia game, I’m heading downtown to an Irish pub and I expect a better audience.

Speaking of, this match-up brings together two of the more entertaining teams in the tourney. I’m thinking this is going to be a wide open display of complete football, with not much defending. The Dutch have looked most impressive and Russia look not far behind. Somehow, I feel like I should pick Holland but for some reason Russia are calling, maybe I feel like they are closer to my homeland?? (Editor’s note: Or maybe you were too young to remember how they invaded and subjugated your peoples.) Holland really don’t defend, and leave it to a Dutch coach to upset the Dutch…I’m on Hiddink and the Ruskies.

On paper, Sunday’s match should be fantastic. But, no Pirlo, no Gattuso, and already missing their two star centerbacks will prove costly for Italy. You can’t possibly pick a team that is missing the “spine” of their lineup. Spain haven’t beaten Italy in “competitive” match since 1920 (holy shit, it’s true!) but on Sunday they break that streak. I’m on Torres and the Spanish Armada…enjoy!

Holland vs Russia

Italy vs Spain

Like no tournament I can remember, Euro 2008 is rewarding good soccer. Teams who play crisp, technical, forward thinking football are finding the back of the net and taking the spoils.

Holland, Russia, Croatia and Spain( mostly), even Turkey – all have put forth moments of sheer footballing genius, and all have been rewarded with a spot in the quarterfinals.

Today’s match was a certain candidate for cynical football: the massive Germans against a handful of massively skillful Portuguese. I thought for sure Germany would confine the game to the midfield and hope for one set-play to be lauched into the box for one of their giant centerbacks to bungle in. Yet there was Podolski streaking down the flank after some fantastic combination play, delivering a perfectly weighted pass to the onrushing Schweinsteiger. It would have been the goal of the tournament, if Netherlands and Russia weren’t in the tournament.

As for the Portuguese: I am always befuddled by people’s fascination with this team. Is it because they are the closest thing to Brazil that Rob Stone and various other know-nothings grasp at the Portuguese straw? They will never win a final.

We’ll see if the cream goes sour, but you’d be hard pressed to dig up someone crusty enough not to have been entertained by the past week’s goings on. Jim Rome, maybe.

While you’re stuck at work, Portugal will be battling Germany in what could be a very entertaining match. And if you’re TiVoing it, you have until 3pm before that douchebag co-worker who doesn’t even like soccer says “How ’bout that Portugal game!” and drops the score on you.

Oh well. Here are some videos to get your mind off it:

• The ITV crew squeezes every last pun from this Van der Faart clip, so I’ll just let them do their thing.
• West Brom holds a skill-off, with fairly pedestrian results…until Joss Labadie simulates giving birth in stirrups.
• The Coke spots running abroad during the Euros tap into, apparently, the deep-seated fears of men. Most involve gayness, bodily harm, or some combination of the two. Plus they’re terrible. Really though: where’s the pregnant girlfriend?

NOTE: Your editor forgot to hit the “publish” button on Lukey’s picks yesterday. Here they are, and I suppose they demand a bit of faith in the Soccernista honor code. Rest assured: we would only lie about results if they involved actual money. Since it’s just a mythical bankroll (now at $129.38) we wouldn’t bother. Lukey’s picks for today and yesterday are below.

After a disastorous weekend on all fronts, I’ve recovered quite well over the last two days, gonig 3-1 and bringing my overall total to 13-9. With Greece having nothing left to play for and Spain already assured a spot in the quarters this might just be a yawner…I’m tempted to call this a tie but I think Greece blow, so Spain win!

I like the way Russia play, and because they have to win while Sweden only needs to tie I think they come out with the right mindset and win this game. Sweden is old, and will play like it (especially late in the game). Russia win and go through.

The first of the quarters should prove to be very entertaining. I like Germany but they seem to be lacking just a bit in the back and that’s not good news when going up against the likes of Ronaldo and company. It’s going to be very entertaining but I think Portugal are too much in attack for the German defense; Portugal go through.

Turkey is lucky to find themselves here and they do so without their number one goalkeeper. Croatia have looked good on both sides of the ball and they continue here…Croatia win – fuck off Turkey!

Russia vs. Sweden
Greece vs. Spain

Quarterfinals:

Portugal vs. Germany

Croatia vs. Turkey

In 2006, France had a slow start to their World Cup. In-fighting and swollen egos had the team on their heels throughout the first round, and only sheer luck allowed them to pass into the second. Slowly, they started to gel before a fantastic victory over Spain cauterized whatever wounds remained, propelling them into the finals. After the narrowest of losses, France were deserving runners-up.

Today, in 2008, we can comfortably say France have become a steaming pile of shite au poivre.

Excluding a random stretch of ten minutes in their match with Holland, France didn’t once play well at the Euros. At best they looked disorganized – on average they looked frail, bereft of ideas, and technically inept. Come to think of it, they looked like the US National Team.

We could pick through all the issues of age and ego, but it seems to me the blame can be placed at the feet of just two men:

• Raymond Domenech, the French coach, confirmed what an entire nation always suspected – he is mentally off. Astrologist, amateur dramatist and tactical naif, Domenech added absolutely nothing to France’s approach in any of the matches. Not only was there no change in the French approach over the course of the tournament, but there has been none since 2006, a period which saw two losses to Scotland (I use Italics in the hope you will read the word as if you were choking on a Willie Sagnol fart). But that doesn’t even begin to mine the depths of Domenech’s idiocy. How did he respond to the exit from Euro 2008? He proposed to his girlfriend. Immediately after the game. In a live interview. I’m sure that will smooth things over with a disappointed nation.
• Zinedine Zidane, though, owns even greater responsibility for the French disaster. How? He retired. He took his endless bag of tricks, beguiling creativity, and superb technique, and went home. He left a gaping hole in the French midfield, and an even larger one in the French footballing consciousness. At every turn in possession, the French players looked like they were searching out Zizou for a pass. “Where’s that guy we normally give it to before he gives it back to one of us in a way better spot?” they seemed to say. It wasn’t just that they played as though they needed him, they played as if he were still on the field. But he wasn’t. And playing with an imaginary Zidane is considerably worse than playing without one at all.

And so France must start over from scratch as a footballing nation. They will fire Domenech in a matter of weeks and then, if they’re smart, they won’t begin searching for the next Zidane. There won’t be one, and France will need to come to terms with that if they are to win a major competition in the next decade.

Italy hasn’t looked their best, and this video might offer a clue as to why: these guys are drowning in ass. If half naked chicks are charging across a training ground to get to these guys, just think how bad amazing the onslaught must be in hotel lobbies…or night clubs…or the Italian DMV. I’d say it’s “like shooting fish in a barrel,” but that doesn’t quite capture it. More like, “Fish that jump out of the barrel, self-fillet, and fry themselves up in a nice lemon-butter and caper sauce with fingerling potatoes.”

* Images pulled from this excellent slideshow.

The fact is, that call was a very difficult one to make. The ball was played in from well outside the 18, the players in question were on the six, and the Romanian defender was sprinting away from goal, such that he was practically out to the penalty spot just a fraction of a second after the ball was sent in to Toni. Processing all the crisscrossing players, spread out over that much space and moving at game speed, then making the right call in an instant is hard. Why do you think they get it wrong so often? Given that we can see they were wrong 10 seconds after the call, when they show the instant replay, why not let the officials take a peek as well?

Even as I’m writing this I’m not a huge fan of the idea, as along with other potential issues it would interrupt the flow and pace of the game – ultimately, it just seems unnatural to have instant replay delays injected into football soccer matches. I guess the question is, do we want to get the right call every time, or does the discussion, conjecture, money loss/gain, whining, crying, arguing, fighting, drinking and so on that follows every bad call constitute an essential part of the game of football?

Or, perhaps simply listening to Rob Stone and Julie Foudy talk about any subject for more than 30 seconds is enough to drive one to the brink of Cassano-like insanity?

Don’t worry there’s more:

Forgetting to set your DVR to record the Euro matches is like spending a lifetime with sight before suddenly going blind. I mean, if it were up to me, I’d rather be born blind, than go blind. Because, what would you be missing?

In other words, I spent the whole day looking forward to my evening soccer orgy, and now I’m watching Top Chef with my wife. I’m hoping the fat lesbian will serve Tom Colicchio a matzo-ball using a fast-pitch windup. Or maybe the guy with the shark-fin on his head will serve the hot hostess (arm-scar!) a Spanish-Fly infused ravioli. Come on, do something exciting.

Insofar as I awaited the promise of my recorded games only to have them disappear, I can totally identify with Ivica Vastic. The 38 year old scored the tying goal for Austria against Poland, a feat that was to earn him a lifetime supply of beer from a brewery in Vienna. And wouldn’t you know it? He’s not going to see a drop.

“We don’t need such type of motivation. We need three points against Poland, but we definitely need no beer belly,” said Alfred Ludwig, secretary general of the Austrian Football Association.

But his decision also seems to have economic reasons.

Ludwig said the association might lose the credibility it enjoyed with its sponsors if it accepted the offer. He was referring to the Stiegl brewery, which supports Austrian football and distributes the official Euro 2008 Carlsberg brand.

He hit the net, thinking, “Free beer, bitches, freeeeee beeeeeeeer!” Only to have the sweet juice ripped from his lips. No free beer, and now he has to pay for the worst beer in the world, Carlsberg. And maybe he’s not being subjected to Top Chef right now, but I guarantee he misses that free beer. More than that, he misses the promise of free beer.

Some links from folks responsible enough to watch the games, and beyond:

• Unprofessional Foul is liveblogging the matches, and doing it quite well. A sample: “And can he stop running after the ball and kicking it to his players for throw-ins? You know he tries to go out for drinks with the players and asks them questions after the game like, “What are we doing tonight guys?!?!” Sort of like Regina George’s mom in “Mean Girls.” Oh you guys, you keep me young!”
• Who Ate All The Pies finds that Paddy Power is offering a free Hummer (the kind that guzzles gas, not…you know) to the first Spanish goalscorer in tomorrow’s match with Sweden. The catch? They have to the Chiki-Chiki dance. I admit, the video is strangely captivating (”Uno…El Breakindance!”).
  
• “Oh, that’s gotta’ hurt.” Ya’ think?
• Though not Euro-related, Kickette’s ongoing coverage of the Wayne Rooney wedding is indispensable: “It’s basically a never-ending money-blazing extravaganza of nouveau riche chavtastic proportions. Alas, the weather was quite shite and it rained buckets. Damn the skies and their inability to be paid off.”

Enjoy the Group o’ Death matches.

Lukey’s favorites all came in over the weekend, pushing his bankroll to a respectable $117.75. And what did Lukey do with the extra cash? He paid for a professional photographer to come to his house and shoot a new head-shot. Oh, the vanity!

So I’m off to a great start, but are you really surprised? I was getting text messages galore on Saturday morning, things such as, “you could use the Slovaks now”…guess what, all I had to say was TASTE IT BITCHES!!! I’m 4-0 after the first weekend and plan on continuing my man-handling of this tournament.

Enough of the self promotion, it’s time for more picks. By the way, are you confused as I am by Julie Foudy and why she’s been allowed to spew her nonsensical idiocy on tv..good lord, and Tommy Smith? This guy must be blind, no penalty on that Austrian tackle? Are you watching the same game as me, IDIOT!?

I’ll be in Vegas for part of the week on work commitments and yes, I do plan on making good on the following bets…don’t be a puss… “clenched fists, my apprentice”.

Interesting set of games coming up, and some tough picks, but that’s why I’m here. I think Italy are going to be tough even without Captain Cannavaro and believe they will continue to play they’re counter-attacking style to perfection. Not really sure what is going on in Holland other than the arrogant Van Basten seems to be pissing everyone off – synergy seems to be off. I like the Italians here, too much talent for the Dutch.

Confused why everyone continues to question the French; if you remember, I backed them in the last World Cup even after a slow start and I will continue to do the same here. Spain, if they play with testicular fortitude should take care of Russia – come on El Nino.

Greece vs. Sweden, who cares…really, who gives a shit…I’ll take Sweden.

Ahhh…yes, Czechs and Portugal…wow, I hate to do this but I’m on Portugal. If the Czechs defend as poorly against Portugal as they did against the Swiss they will get punished – I hope I’m wrong.

Finally the Swiss vs Turkey; could there be a game I care less about? Oh, yes, Austria/Poland. Well, no Frei, no Swiss win…Turkey go on and win this boring-ass game.

Monday:
Romania (4.75) vs. France (1.7) Tie (3.3)
Holland (3.1) vs. Italy (2.3) Tie (2.9)

Tuesday:
Spain vs. Russia:
Greece vs. Sweden:

Wednesday:
Czech Republic vs. Portugal:
Swiss vs. Turkey:

Before we get to the important stuff (like the particulars of Julie Foudy’s lion-mane hairdo and increasingly chiseled features), let’s look at the following favorites as you could have had them on Saturday morning:

Czech Republic vs. Switzerland – Bet $66 to win $100

Croatia vs. Austria – Bet $108 to win $100.

Portugal vs. Turkey – Bet $142 to win $100.

Germany vs. Poland – Bet $200 to win $100

Big Brown vs. 8 others – Bet $400 to win $100.

Yes, hindsight is 20/20, but can you spot the obvious stinker in there? Let’s see how each faired on the weekend:

Czech Republic – If the Euros were a 7-a-side tournament, and there were no such thing as injuries or retirement, the Czechs would win. Without Rosicky and Nedved, though, it’s hard to imagine ways in which this team breaks down better quality opponents than the Swiss. Look for the Czechs to roll over for Portugal, and position themselves to control destiny with the Turkish Delight. Then they can make their way for the quarter final exit door (”Mind the head, Jan!”).

Croatia – I don’t put much stock in the FIFA World Rankings except to say this: if you are sandwiched between Gabon and Mozambique, you are likely shit-terrible. And yet the Austrians (the 92nd ranked meat in that shit-sandwich) pushed the hyped Croats to the breaking point yesterday. A draw would have been barely just, while a 3 point haul for the men in checkerboards can only leave the normally oh-so delicious Vienna coffee tasting a bit like stale Yugo-piss. The talk of Croatia pushing deep into the tournament will probably subside, and I’ll give you one reason right now: Luka Modric is clever, cool over the ball, and looks to be worth every penny of about $25 million. The trouble? Spurs paid $42 million, and Croatia would have needed him to look it in this tournament. He doesn’t.

Portugal – This was the most attractive line of the opening round, and the game unfolded like you’d imagine. The busy Portuguese had only to keep their often outlandish behavior in check and count on the passage of time and geologic pressure to wear down the Turks. Plus, Turkey isn’t even in Europe, so they technically forfeited pre-match anyway.

Germany – The tournament favorites kind-of looked the part, even if they had to rely on a Pole to do all their scoring. The fact the squad is so similar to the pretty good team of ‘06 seems to be sort of a plus. But notice how I’m hedging? I’ll hold any endorsement of the Germans until later this morning when the Group of Death undoes the top button on its bodice.

Big Brown – Did he finish yet?

Which brings me to the point of this discussion of favorites: whereas each of the Euro favorites were priced fairly, if not generously, that price on Big Brown should have sent off warning flags for any soccer fan. We soccer fans seem to recognize that life is funny – Rushden and Diamond’s actually could beat Manchester United in the 4th round of the FA Cup. We know this because we’ve seen it, time and time again.

Some people attempt to attribute unlikely soccer results to an element of randomness peculiar to soccer: “anything can happen,” they say. But the truth is that we soccer fans are just better assessors of risk. It wouldn’t have surprised us if Austria had clipped Croatia, or even if Poland had nipped Germany. “I can’t believe Big Brown lost!” Really? You can’t believe an animal they strapped a tiny cajun to and sent running around an unfamiliar track, farther than he had ever run in his life, didn’t beat 8 other horse trying to do the same thing?

If you tore up a Big Brown ticket on Saturday, you’re probably half-way through your real estate license courses. Because who could have seen any of that coming?

Soccer fans, probably. And we know twists and turns are coming in this tournament (Romania, anyone?), even if they eluded us this weekend. That’s why I won’t be missing a minute.

Some quick thoughts:

• Turn away, our female reader: I think it’s riotous that ESPN flew Andy Gray over to listen to Julie Foudy prattle on about what adjustments Poland needs to make in order to break down the German midfield. Kudos to Andy for keeping a straight face. Or maybe he’s just a particularly progressive minded, elderly Scottish man. Or maybe he’s bonking her.
• Which brings us to Foudy as anchor-talent. I always found her a bit severe, but 08-Foudy is starting to make 06-Foudy look pixie-like. Can one lift weights with facial muscles? And if one can, should one? And is that hairdo a Michelle-Akers tribute? We have three weeks to figure it all out.
• If you haven’t seen it yet, here’s the Polish tabloid cover mentioned today. My moral compass is more like a moral magic-mood-ring, but even on my most lax days I’d say the cover is in poor taste. Which is a bit of a surprise: the Poles usually have such great taste in tabloid covers (link NSFW).
• This is even funnier when you stop to think that BBC viewers are the ones that have to pay for it and listen to it.

]]> http://soccernista.com/2008/06/09/of-favorites/feed/ 2 http://soccernista.com/2008/06/07/its-here/ http://soccernista.com/2008/06/07/its-here/#comments Sat, 07 Jun 2008 15:56:06 +0000 http://soccernista.com/?p=328 June 6 – 2008

Ahhh, there it is: a blazing red color scheme guaranteed to dazzle the senses and distract the intellect. Yes, we’re hoping the shock of the red will dull your disappointment as I roll out the staff-list for Soccernista’s Eurotrash 08 coverage. Here’s the crack staff you’ll be hearing from over the next days and weeks:

• Yours truly, when I can escape the crushing responsibility of toddler-rearing. Expect the same empty wit and irresponsible shit tossing, but with a less informed bent due to having fast-forwarded through large segments of TiVo’d games.
• Lukey the Czech, replete with Czech-centric gambling advice smothered in a mixture of class-rage and capitalist angst.
• Nordy. He’s liveblogged for Soccernista before and…well I really have no idea who he is. But his gay jokes are both tasteful and hilarious. In the sportsblogging world, that’ll take you places.
• Jobicoppola, who actually built this little home on the infotubes (I’m not sure how, but I’m pretty sure it involves smoke, mirrors, and Asians).

And there you have it: disappointing, I know, but what else are you going to read? Jen Chang?

Oh brother. Get ready for 3 weeks of nonstop Czech-worship. We’ll start him off with a $100 mythical bankroll and, assuming he doesn’t blow it all at mythical Czech handjob houses, he should be able to turn a mythical profit. Good luck, Lukey!

Opening weekend of Euro 2008 and I couldn’t have asked for a better opening match: my CZECHS vs the Swiss. No Rosicky, no Nedved, no Poborsky, NO FUCKING PROBLEM. Listen, we’re playing the Swiss and according to assistant coach Michel Pont their answer to marking Jan Koller is, “We won’t be man-marking Koller.” Are these guys serious? Right, don’t mark a guy that has 54 goals in 87 caps for his country.

Bottom line, too much talent and too much experience in the Czech camp, and not enough brains in the Swiss. Czechs win and Lukey the Czech celebrates with Pilsner Urquell and Arturo Fuente!

As for the rest of the weekend, Portugal (Ronaldo alone) too much for Turkey. Austria could be the worst team in the tournament and proves it against Croatia. And Germany, as one of the favorites, takes care of the slow ass Poles. ENJOY IT!!!!!!!!!!!!

Saturday:

Czechs vs. Swiss : 2-0 Czechs (2.5) Swiss (2.7) Tie (3.0)
Portugal vs. Turkey: 3-0 Portugal (1.7) Turkey (4.8) Tie (3.25)

Sunday:

Austria vs. Croatia: 0-3 Austria (4.0) Croatia (1.85) Tie (3.2)
Germany vs. Poland: 4-1 Germany (1.5) Poland (6.0) Tie (3.6)

The opening to this video slays me: the “Le Marseillaise” ring tone, Ribery bobbing his head, Luca Toni wearing his little sister’s tshirt. It devolves into a Nike commercial, but there’re still some gems – like when Toni heads it in off the crossbar exclaiming, “Technique!”

I don’t have a clue what their saying, but I’m pretty sure Franck at one point says something about “Spaghetti,” and Toni calls Franck, “Napoleon.” Which is really all I could ask for.

Unless you have a rooting interest, the Euros can sneak up on you. Some links to whet the appetite:

• The BBC’s Euro trailer practically drips in Euro-snobbery. Mozart? Check. Monument porn? Check. Clever little Frenchy cartoons? Check. Why don’t they just come out and say it: the unwashed masses aren’t invited to our little soirée.
• Have only 2 minutes for a primer? Appreciate useless information like “Missing in Action: Andriy Shevchenko”? Retarded? Then the SI preview is for you.
• Need a rooting interest? The Guardian pens an adoption case for each of the Euro competitors. Better yet, one of their writers recommends a team to hate: “Even United fans, while worshiping him as a football genius, would struggle to get through a night out with Ronaldo without wanting to give him at least a little slap.” On the ass, I presume?
• Austria and Switzerland are using the Euros as an opportunity to debunk some rumors. Among them: Swiss cheese isn’t Swiss, “Edelweiss” is not an Austrian folk song, and “There are no kangaroos in Austria.” I’ll grant the first two, but no kangaroos? Sure, whatever, mate.

Right now I’m easing into my Ikea couch, kicking up my feet (Prada sneakers, no socks), and lighting up a Benson and Hedges cigarette. I’ve got Fox Soccer Report on mute, and the Ibiza Mega Club Mix is blaring. Now if one of these toddlers could make me an absinthe (one cube of sugar, please) I’d be ready for some footie.

Yes, folks, you are mere hours away from Soccernista’s coverage of Euro08. Watch this space for a new, red color scheme meant to distract you from the coming onslaught of unfounded opinion, wild conjecture, and vaguely racist humor.

Ciao, for now.

As promised, the manager of the Rockets will get full run of this site for a day. Yes, this prize has lost considerable value of late (assuming it ever had any value to begin with). But wait – might there be some stirring in the Soccernista bushes? Stay tuned, my nine remaining readers…

After full days of pretending to understand molecular genetics, mostly fulfilling obligations at work, and parenting the shit out of two kids, I’m finding it difficult to sit down and immerse myself in the world of fake soccer-journalism. I could give up the binge-drinking, but one must have priorities, no?

Soccernista, therefore, will be taking a temporary leave of absence. I’ll be back at some point; hopefully sooner rather than later. Until then…

And just like that, the Premiership loses its villain. Those of you in blue may say “hero”, but I believe, in time, you will come to see the Mourinho years as an exercise in profligacy, excess, and general silliness. In fact, one only need analyze the very words that sprang from that smug little man to see the error of his ways.

“Please don’t call me arrogant, but I’m European champion and I think I’m a special one.” -Upon arriving at Stamford Bridge in 2004.

That’s not arrogance – that’s what the American Psychiatric Association calls “Narcissistic Personality Disorder.” Mourinho always strove to make it known that he would be responsible for Chelsea’s successes, an attitude too clever by half when one considers the purse-strings he was holding.

“I would love an Aston Martin but if you ask me £1m for an Aston Martin, I tell you, you are crazy because they cost £250,000.” – On the increased valuation of players when Chelsea express an interest.

Jose’s right in that there has and will continue to be one price for Chelsea, and another for everyone else. Why? Because Aston Martins cost no more than $200,000 yet Jose would gladly pay $500,000 and only complain when the price rose to $2million. The man had no concept of value because he had no budget; he only had a vague sense that he was getting screwed whenever he couldn’t have what he wanted.

“A brilliant reaction. I hate it when players just walk off.”
Following Arjen Robben’s sharp exit down the tunnel after being substituted against Aston Villa.

Ahh yes, the time-honored tradition of cleverly restating a clear negative as a positive. All indications are that Chelsea players who don’t bask in the glory of first-team selection are ground up and fed to starters for breakfast. Robben, like so many Blues teetering on the edge of favor, charged off the pitch because he knew full well the harsh realities of man-management under Mourinho.

“Young players are a little bit like melons. Only when you open and taste the melon are you 100% sure that the melon is good.”
On developing Chelsea’s young stars.

Or, rather, on not developing Chelsea’s young stars. Mourinho’s whimsical quip is really a statement of philosophy: why develop talent when we can simply outspend everyone to acquire talent developed elsewhere? When the Roman empire ends and the money dries up, Chelsea will be left with a youth-development system from the dark ages.

“It’s like having a blanket that is too small for the bed. You pull the blanket up to keep your chest warm and your feet stick out. I cannot buy a bigger blanket because the supermarket is closed. But the blanket is made of cashmere!”
On the injury ‘crisis’ at Chelsea in February.

“The style of how we play is very important. But it is omelettes and eggs. No eggs – no omelettes! It depends on the quality of the eggs. In the supermarket you have class one, two or class three eggs and some are more expensive than others and some give you better omelettes. So when the class one eggs are in Waitrose and you cannot go there, you have a problem.”
What turned out to be his parting shot to Roman Abramovich.

Mourinho did not manage his way to silverware, he bought it. When injuries hit, as they do for every single club in the game, Mourinho used the moment to complain about his inability to spend, about the quality of his players, and about the overload of fixtures. He never seemed to warm to the idea that a manager should manage rather than acquire. Perhaps, though, he was right: my balls could have managed Chelsea ‘05 and ‘06 to titles.

“Wenger has a real problem with us and I think he is what you call in England a voyeur. He is someone who likes to watch other people. There are some guys who, when they are at home, have this big telescope to look into the homes of other people and see what is happening. Wenger must be one of them – and it is a sickness.”
Astonishing attack on Arsene Wenger.

And this is how I will remember him – a cruel little opportunist hiding behind a “poor” grasp of English, laying waste to anything that doesn’t immediately gratify his self-worth. Some are saying they’ll be sorry to see a character like Jose go; I, for one, will be glad to see the English game rid of him. I look forward to seeing what the Chelsea roster can do under the guidance of someone, anyone, who puts football before spending. In fact, I tip Chelsea for a Champions League title next year.

Of course, if Terry, Lampard, Drogba, Essien, and Cech transferred to Bolton, I’d tip them as well. They’re the real Special Ones.

The release of FIFA’08 is around the corner and, like most years, I’m foregoing the excitement; for me, EA Sport’s FIFA series plateaued with FIFA’96. Since then, the graphics have gotten better (”I can see a Nike sign!”), and the attention to detail has increased (”Look! Sweaty shirts!”), but what was fundamentally a button-pushing exercise has remained so.

The trailer below, however, seems to hint at better things to come.

The enhanced realism of piloting a single player through a match surely represents an improvement over the conceit of controlling an entire squad. Positioning, understanding of role, and speed of play would be at a premium. Gone would be the days of the tried and true scoring format (into the midfield, swing it out wide, loop in a cross, smash it home) and with them my desire to strangle my brother with the controller cord. A whole team of individuals playing as individuals would be more like…well…soccer.

It’s easy to choose players you’d love to “be.” But who, I wonder, are the players I would avoid like a dodgy prawn sandwich?

• Andriy Schevchenko. Nothing causes thumb blisters like a player who has lost a step. No matter how hard you press that directional button, Andriy will be there a step late. And you could be forgiven for mistaking the slowly depleting “stamina bar” for a “career prospects bar.”
• Kieron Dyer. How fun could it be counting the seconds until your next injury? Which button do you push to wave on the physio? Can I punch virtual Lee Bowyer?
• Dimitar Berbatov. I’m surrounded by morons. Transfer me to ManUntd before Robbie Keane kicks another ball at my shins.
• Andy Van der Meyde. Playing video games, like talking about my feelings, is something I rarely do sober. Drunkenly playing a drunken player is one too many layers of drunkeness.
• Steve Finnan. Watch as I bore myself with my own consistency.

Really, though, how long until the “Be a Pro” mode leads to rampant CGI-FIFA porn?

From Sky Sports comes news of an Albanian man who, angered by his national team’s loss to the Netherlands, set his fish delivery van on fire. Fair enough, but when firefighters arrived at the scene, they found their truck had been emptied of water by citizens desperate to escape Albania’s national water shortage. The delivery van burnt to the ground.

In my opinion, this confluence of events should result in an immediate state department travel advisory: “American citizens should be on the look out for bat-shit craziness when visiting Albania.” That Albanian citizens would drain a firetruck is one level of crazy – that they have citizens who would stake their livelihood on a result against the Dutch is quite another.

Here’s Mario Melchiot on the receiving end of that craziness, Ruud Van Nistelrooy dishing up some craziness of his own, and stunned Albanian fans thinking about setting fish delivery vans on fire:

Also, be sure not to let your day end before checking out Awful Announcing’s, positively unreal Rob Stone clip.

Lukey went 5 for 5 last weekend, but his chalk-eating caused him to slip to a total return of negative $33.17 (based on $5 and $10 mythical wagers). I’m sure you may be tempted to jump ship, but know this: we’re talking about a man who escaped communist Czechoslovakia by stowing away on a livestock truck, disguised in a hollowed out sheep carcass. Lukey rode to freedom through five-hundred yards of shit smelling foulness I can’t even imagine, or maybe I just don’t want too. Five-Hundred yards… that’s the length of five football fields, just shy of half a mile.

Lukey’s picks, sans sheep carcass, are after the jump.

Lock of the Week:
You may or may not know but outside of cheering for the Czech National Team, I am an Arsenal fan. And although the game is not my pick of the week let me leave you with some stats: in the last eight North London derby’s you have four wins and four ties for Arsenal. I believe that Tottenham has not won in 9 years – wow!! Good luck, you Dutch douche-rocket.

Instead, my Czech ass is off to the JJB where Wigan hosts Fulham. Quite frankly, I don’t understand the American soccer fans’ obsession with Fulham. Do I cheer for Monaco because Jan Koller plays there? Hell no. In fact, I could give two shits. Let’s face it: Fulham stink and they stink even more on the road. Two road games, zero wins, four goals against. Wigan on the other hand have two wins at home, scored four goals, and conceded no goals. What do you expect with Smertin, Davies, and Davis running your midfield? Doesn’t thire coach have a woman’s name? Wigan 3 – Chicks 1!

Everton v Man Utd: 0-2
Portsmouth v Liverpool: 1-3
Tottenham v Arsenal: 1-2
Birmingham v Bolton: 0-2
Sunderland v Reading: 1-3
West Ham v Middlesbrough: 1-1
Wigan v Fulham: 3-1
Chelsea v Blackburn: 3-1

Man City v Aston Villa: 1-0

Derby v Newcastle: 0-4

Bolton v Everton
Bolton 6/4
Draw 9/4
Everton 2/1

Everton v Man Utd
Everton 7/2
Draw 5/2
Man Utd 5/6

Portsmouth v Liverpool
Portsmouth 4/1
Draw 11/4
Liverpool 4/5

Tottenham v Arsenal
Tottenham 19/10
Draw 11/5
Arsenal 13/8

Birmingham v Bolton
Birmingham 7/5
Draw 9/4
Bolton 2/1

Sunderland v Reading
Sunderland 11/8
Draw 9/4
Reading 11/5

West Ham v Middlesbrough
West Ham Evs
Draw 12/5
Middlesbrough 3/1

Wigan v Fulham
Wigan 6/5
Draw 9/4
Fulham 13/5

Chelsea v Blackburn
Chelsea 2/5
Draw 7/2
Blackburn 10/1

Man City v Aston Villa
Man City 11/8
Draw 9/4
Aston Villa 23/10

Derby v Newcastle
Derby 7/2
Draw 23/10
Newcastle 10/11

It’s taken weeks to get back on this train. Fulham’s loss to Newcastle United left a sour taste in my mouth and, truth be told, I considered wrapping up the project and giving Fulham the title outright. Oh well, I’ve made my bed – now it’s time to invite two more teams into it, make with the heavy petting, and choose a victorious lover. Note: Because teams make more than one appearance in this little tourney, I’ll only assess the two squads in so far as an obvious (for me) winner emerges.

The Case for West Ham: We meet again, my love; you look like hell. What’s that? You miss me? I miss you too…sometimes…like, when it rains…or when I’ve killed four tallboys of Speckled Hen…but mostly I’m enjoying the freedom of neutral Saturdays. What’s that? Of course we still have a chance. But let’s take this slow.

A look at the pros:

• New signee: Nole Solano. Silky smooth control and world class ball-striking just arrived in East London; break out the inflatable llamas!
• Kieron Dyer’s leg is broken. He’s a negative, the broken leg removed him, so the leg must be a positive. Simple math, people.
• I was always partial to the claret and blue, but this year’s Umbro spread takes the combo to new heights. Far and away the best Hammers’ jersey in years.

And some cons:

• Kieron Dyer. I hate that man, and can’t quite believe he and Bowyer will now have the chance to go a second round. Morons!
• Leading scorer? Matt Etherington. I’m assuming all his goals have been crosses that, instead of ending up in the bleachers, found their way into the net.
• Everyone is acting like the Tevez affair has been put to rest. Pardon me, but isn’t the guy on loan? This whole thing will be revisited in two years.
• Get a load of these guys.

The case for Manchester United: Do you root for the Yankees? Did you laugh inside when Old Yeller was put down? Do you have a soft-spot for big pharmaceutical companies? Do you secretly hope New Orleans doesn’t get rebuilt? Then you, my friend, could be a Manchester United fan.

The pros:

• Ummm…success? I admit – it would be nice to worry about how you’re going to carry the silverware home, rather than if you’ll still be in the league when you get there.
• Can 50 million supporters be wrong?
• For gorgeous football that actually leads to goals (I’m looking at you, Arsenal fans) look no further than Old Trafford.
• The guy with the McDonald’s bag.

Tough to beat McDonald’s-bag-guy. On to the cons:

• I’m a white, middle class American; do I really need more hegemony in my life?
• 8 points in 5 games.
• Nani looks like that small person Pedro Martinez carried around.
• Supporters were concerned the Glazers would restructure Manchester United finances to carry excess family debt. Who needs family debt when you can rack up $50million of red the old fashioned way?
• For all United’s evils, nothing compares to Gary Neville.

The Verdict:

Like all match-ups between West Ham and ManUntd, the Reds crush the Hammers in all objective aspects of footballing. Yet, as if by some greater power, West Ham finds a way to chink the armor of the unstoppable monolith. In my heart, the game-wnning goal is this one; Barthez’s arm in the air, and head up his ass. West Ham push into the second round, 1-0.

The women’s world cup is off and running! Yesterday’s match between the US and North Korea was a fascinating battle with all the raw talent and athleticism you’d expect from a world class tourna…ah, who am I kidding? Like I give a shit.

And before you get your panties in a wad: I happen to think women’s sports are great. It’s US women’s soccer I can’t stand. Why? Because it may be one of the most poorly managed national sports program in the history of the world.

Women’s soccer was essentially invented by the United States. While other countries were busy oppressing their women-folk with conservative sexual mores, institutionalized sexism, or mandatory burka-wearing, our girls were burning their non-sportsbras to the tune of Title IX. The head-start was massive. US women could lay claim to being the most successful international side, male or female, of the ’80s and ’90s.

And not just that: during that time, the US produced two of the greatest soccer players ever to walk the Earth in Michelle Akers and Mia Hamm. I remember watching Hamm play when she was a senior at North Carolina visiting the University of Portland. Seated behind the goal, I watched her make a darting run towards the top of the penalty area; a Carolina player had beaten a defender on the flank and whipped in a poorly hit but pacy cross. The ball was going to bounce about 5 yards in front of Hamm, and I remember thinking “There’s no way she’ll be able to bring this down.” She didn’t – she kept running at full speed, went horizontal, and crushed a side-volley that eventually hit the post. “I can not do that,” I thought, “but I find it intriguing and, strangely, arousing.”

Though there was nothing arousing about Akers, she was perhaps better than Hamm. After playing in a pick-up game with her, I was struck by her speed of play, her comfort over the ball, and her ability to find easy ways out of difficult situations. She played like a man, and that’s not in any way meant to be a slight on her imposing frame; it’s merely a blatantly sexist remark that speaks truth to her ability.

That both players were members of the FIFA 100 list of the greatest players of all time can only be seen as justice. That the US has failed to produce players near their caliber speaks to the stagnation of women’s soccer in this country. Who’s to blame? Well you can start with the knob-jockeys who coached the full team for a combined thirteen years – Anson Dorrance and Tony DiCicco. The former is some guy who looks like he lost his way from a used car dealership and ended up in the technical area, while the latter is a women’s goalkeeping coach. No, really, he is. Those two were happy to send our Title IXsters out to beat ass on the housewives and lesbian castaways of Europe, but did they ever send any message to America’s girls other than “run really fast, and I’ll meat meet you on the podium.”

Then there’s Adidas and Nike, who were only too happy to package women’s soccer and force feed it to every suburban man, woman, and child. They’re corporations, so they can’t be blamed, but US Soccer must be considered co-conspirators in the exploitation. Women’s shoes got cuter, but did the players wearing them get any better?

Looking at the current roster, you’d have to say no. Kristine Lilly’s longevity is a credit to mankind, but a discredit to the talent pool of US women’s soccer. There’s a reason why Alexi Lalas doesn’t still play for the USMNT, and you’d hope there’d be a reason why Lilly wouldn’t as well. Similarly, is Shannon Boxx still, after close to a decade, the best player we can field at her position?

The rest of the planet, meanwhile, has caught up. The US retain a number one ranking, but (as yesterday showed) all it really takes to knock them off is a solid HGH regimen and fear of execution. Germany, a team that used to be so outclassed by the Americans it made you wish Hitler were alive to see it, now looks to have the Americans by the balls, er, right where they want them.

In the end, it’s good for women around the world, but US Soccer must ask themselves how we lost our edge so quickly. They really did drop the ball. Oops.

The Czech Football Association have named the going rate for a Nazi salute: $4948. And since video evidence reveals Sparta Prague’s Pavel Horvath rattled off two rounds back-to-back…

…his total comes to $9896.

Prosecution of the fine was not taken lightly; the CFA employed the services of international extremism expert Miroslav Mares. A summary of his assessment was included in the final report.

“(Mares) ruled out intolerance and extremism, but it is highly probable that he (Horvath) performed a part of the Nazi salute. He probably thought that he would entertain the fans, who most probably include extremism followers, and that they will be calmer.”

Which makes perfect sense because, in my experience, nothing calms violent extremists like a Nazi salute. In fact, almost any situation can be made more pleasant with a well timed “Heil!”

Presumably, Horvath should be praised for his crowd-control technique, but fined for his failure to keep it out of view from cameras. After all, you can forgive a decent Czech for being nostalgic for those halcyon days of 1938.

With Beckham’s perfectly sculpted ass riding the pine, and your inner thirteen-year-old-girl crying softly because of it, it’s time to revisit a popular theme here at Soccernista: what can be done that might actually convince me to attend an MLS match?

I want to go. Or rather, I want to want to go. Somehow, though, I’m not being pushed over the edge. Not even by Goldenballs himself. So it’s back to the drawing board to create a handful of unrealistic, surefire ideas to improve MLS. Ignore them at your peril, Don Garber:

Bring in the Barra Bravas
Paid supporters have brought Argentine football to its knees; MLS should be so lucky. Putting hardcore fan-groups on the payroll would improve stadium atmosphere and help to sell the league as spectacle. It wouldn’t take much: seats, beer, and a jersey could get the ball rolling. After that, budget allocations could be made to competing supporters’ groups based on attendance and quality of participation. Even if it were a break even proposition, the quality of the MLS experience would surely go up, as would interest in the league.

Combine MLS with the Mexican Primera
Lou Dobbs’s worst nightmare would be an outright blessing for soccer fans. 30 teams, no borders, and a new reason to go to the stadium week in and week out. The massive Mexican population residing in the US would be hooked, and so would Americans who don’t want to see their gardener’s team take home the inter-league title. Investment would go through the roof as advertisers rush to tap the growing purchasing power of Latinos. Seriously – I dare anyone to find a negative from MLS’s point of view.

Form a Champions League of the Americas
Same number of teams, same exact format. Scrap the Concacaf Champions Cup and the Superliga, then throw all your eggs into a bi-continental championship. The drama of such a tournament would be second only to the original, and would make the World Club Championship look like what it is: an afterthought.

Ditch the Salary Cap
Footie clubs are the new yachts. They have become the playthings of oligarchs and tycoons; why should that stop at our borders? Yes, the current kibutz-like system has protected the league from an NASL-esque implosion, but…what exactly are we protecting again? The Columbus Crew? The Kansas City Wizards? I’d risk the implosion if it means I could watch players who make more than I do.

Let the Church of Latter Day Saints Take Over Real Salt Lake
Imagine the excitement that would grip Rice-Eccles stadium as the preisthood holders take the field. Every game would be a revelation for the home team and a culture-clash for everyone else. At away games, players could alternately rouse the local population and fill the seats with converts. The stupid RSL crown could be replaced by something cool…like a beehive…or an ox. All white strip at home, and all white with white stripes away. It would be fucking awesome.

Lukey the Czech went five for five last weekend, but the “juice” can be a cruel mistress; he now sits $27.45 in the hole. It’s uncharted territory for the Czech-man, and I can only imagine pilsner and cigar futures are on the rocks.

Fear not: he called me in the middle of the workday to report he was “playing Golden Tee and drinking a zipperita.” And in my experience, a relaxed Lukey is often a profitable Lukey. Plus he plainly wrote his dispatch while drunk on said zipperitas. Let’s see if it does the trick, after the jump.

Lock of the Week:

I will admit that today I had a drink called a “zipparita”. Let’s not go into the details; needless to say I played a bad round of golf followed by a terrible decision to drink an awful drink. You’re thinking, “what in the hell does have to do with the below wagers???” Well, let me tell you…

I grew up playing for a man, a great man, by the name of Clive Charles. And becauseClive played for West Ham, I could easily choose to back the Hammers. But what does my love for Clive have to do with the Hammers? Absolutely nothing. And, what does betting on soccer have to do with Zipparitas? Nothing!!! So, fuck the Hammers and fuck Zipparitas…because, as far as I’m concerned don’t ever drink a concoction of crap with a funny, sweet, cheery name, even if the bartender is one of the hottest chicks you’ve ever seen. Instead, stay level headed and make the right decision, ketel and soda, crown and ginger, maybe gin and tonic…the options are plentiful. So, let’s stay with the Coppell and company..and Lita is back…Reading 2, Hammers 0…sorry Clive!!

Bolton v Everton: 2-2
Fulham v Tottenham: 1-2
Liverpool v Derby: 3-0
Middlesbrough v Birmingham: 2-0
Newcastle v Wigan: 2-1
Reading v West Ham: 2-0
Man Utd v Sunderland: 4-0

Arsenal v Portsmouth: 2-0
Blackburn v Man City: 1-1
Aston Villa v Chelsea: 1-2

Bolton v Everton
Bolton 6/4
Draw 9/4
Everton 2/1

Fulham v Tottenham Fulham 12/5
Draw 23/10
Tottenham 11/8

Liverpool v Derby
Liverpool 2/9
Draw 5/1
Derby 18/1

Middlesbrough v Birmingham
Middlesbrough 11/10
Draw 12/5
Birmingham 3/1

Newcastle v Wigan
Newcastle 3/4
Draw 5/2
Wigan 4/1

Reading v West Ham
Reading 23/20
Draw 9/4
West Ham 23/10

Man Utd v Sunderland
Man Utd 1/4
Draw 5/1
Sunderland 18/1

Arsenal v Portsmouth
Arsenal 8/15
Draw 3/1
Portsmouth 13/2

Blackburn v Man City
Blackburn 5/4
Draw 9/4
Man City 12/5
Get on: Blackburn
Match Special:
Santa Cruz to score the first goal 13/2

Aston Villa v Chelsea
Aston Villa 5/1
Draw 13/5
Chelsea 8/11

My appologies for the lack of hot, journalistic action of late; the output will be picking up shortly. In lieu of an appology I’ll offer you this: Max Bretos doing the Haka. I challenge you to find a bigger moron with so large a forum for his idiocy.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Update: OK, Hasselhoff counts.

Last week, I could have given you a host of reasons why I hate visiting my in-laws in Idaho. Funny, though, how they all seem so trivial now that “Dad” sprung for the cable upgrade.

Watching Premier League matches in Idaho is a surreal experience. Midway through the first half of the Everton game, the uncles show up with “jerky” and Keystone Light. As I’m tearing into the jerky (delicious, by the way) one uncle informs me that I need to “watch out for bird-shot – it’ll bust yer molar right out.” My brain slowly registers that “bird-shot” is the same as a shotgun bb, which leads me to the horrible conclusion that these bastards shot a cow with a shotgun. “Goose jerkey, you moron!” Oh. Obviously.

So there I am watching Arsenal inform ManCity they will probably finish closer to 8th than 4th, eating goose, drinking a beer that tastes like sparkling water left next to a beer, when it occurs to me: I could get used to this. Beer, jerky, and footie will rescue any situation. Give me those three things and rent me an apartment in Fallujah. See if I care.

I also learned three things about the perception of soccer in middle America:

1. It is taken on faith that all participants are gay. Injured player: “Get up, ya’ queer!” Dissent: “What’s this homo bitchin’ about?” Second game of the day: “More of these fruitcakes? Ahh shit.”
2. They want to know if soccer fans care about the arrival of Beckham, but couldn’t care less themselves.
3. The Zidane headbutt remains, for them, soccer’s only redeeming quality. “These guys are pussies…hey, do you remember that dude that headbutted that guy in that one game? Bad. Ass.”

My in-laws are great – it’s my addiction to soccer that’s the problem. In the past, not watching those games enraged me and made the small things I find offensive (blind support for the war on terror, Chex Mix) seem bigger than they actually are. So Al, if you’re reading this, thanks for springing for the FSC; I think you’ll find me to be a better son now that coming to Idaho doesn’t mean missing matches. And though I disagree with your suggestion that the players “should be allowed to use their hands for the first 20 minutes of each half,” I appreciate the effort. Until next time: keep the beer cold and the goose-jerky vacuum packed.

Rob Styles didn’t just cost Liverpool 2 points, he kept Lukey from a profitable weekend. And from what I know about Czech immigrants, they don’t take it lightly when you stand in the way of their American dream. Beware of any strychnine laced Czechvar, Robbie.

Lukey now sits $17.49 in the hole (based on $5 and $10 mythical wagers). Let’s see if he can’t survive this week’s officiating to crawl back out.

Lock of the Week:

I’m focusing on decisions, not results. Last week, two awful referee calls followed by two obnoxious goalkeeping mistakes lost me a couple of games. Fair enough, but obviously impossible to predict. And so we move forward.

Let me begin by saying I HATE Jens Lehman. This idiot is too busy yelling at opposing forwards, feigning being fouled, and generally getting on my nerves with his behavior to keep balls out of his net. Fortunately he’s injured and I won’t have to watch the turd play this weekend. But, I willbe watching my beloved Arsenal dismantle the league leaders. Although I predicted Man City to win last week’s derby, they were only fortunate to come out winners. This week they won’t be so lucky as they get a nice stuffing of Cesc Fabregas up their arrrrssssseeesssssssss. Gunners take down team Sven…2-0!

Sunderland v Liverpool: 0-2
Arsenal v Man City: 2-0
Aston Villa v Fulham: 2-1
Bolton v Reading: 1-2
Chelsea v Portsmouth: 3-1
Derby v Birmingham: 2-2
West Ham v Wigan: 1-2
Everton v Blackburn: 2-1

Middlesbrough v Newcastle: 1-3
Man Utd v Tottenham: 2-0

Sunderland v Liverpool
Sunderland 11/2
Draw 11/4
Liverpool 4/6

Arsenal v Man City
Arsenal 4/6
Draw 14/5
Man City 5/1

Aston Villa v Fulham
Aston Villa 5/6
Draw 12/5
Fulham 4/1

Bolton v Reading
Bolton 7/5
Draw 9/4
Reading 23/10

Chelsea v Portsmouth
Chelsea 3/10
Draw 4/1
Portsmouth 14/1

Derby v Birmingham
Derby 6/4
Draw 9/4
Birmingham 15/8

West Ham v Wigan
West Ham Evs
Draw 12/5
Wigan 10/3

Everton v Blackburn Saturday 25th August 17:15 Live on Setanta
Everton 11/10
Draw 9/4
Blackburn 14/5

Middlesbrough v Newcastle
Middlesbrough 13/8
Draw 23/10
Newcastle 19/10

Man Utd v Tottenham Sunday 26th August 16:00 Live on Sky
Man Utd 8/15
Draw 3/1
Tottenham 6/1

Hours from now, I’ll be on a plane bound for Boise, ready to fulfill my biannual obligation to the in-laws. “Dad’s” place is FSC and Setanta free, and that’s just as well; asking to watch soccer in that house is tantamount to confessing long hidden homosexual desire. So while I’m busy disappointing my father in-law, you get to watch another round of hot, Prem action. I hate you for it and hope your lager goes down the wrong pipe.

Some links to start your morning:

• “Faster than David Beckham” is my new favorite scientific lay-speak for “fairly fast.” I look forward to the discovery of dinosaurs which are “faster then Gareth Barry, but not quite so fast as Nicky Butt.”
• On Point’s liveblog of the Sweden-US game will save you the trouble of watching it on TIVO. Plus you get this: “You can kill me for this one, but down a goal, Clint Mathis could be useful in this sort of game.” Discuss amongst yourselves.
• 3 months until Jozy Altidore is 18! No, sicko, it’s important because that’s when he can leave MLS.
• “Try and stay in pairs or 3’s at the end of the night, even if your mate meets a hunk and yours looks like a skunk, stay together and say you’ve got a headache.” – Jermaine Defoe’s fiancee on the art of the cock-block.

When the fixture table was set, this particular match-up made me cringe; I’d have preferred to see these two sides meet later rather than sooner. Alas, it’s a knock-out tourney, so knock-out we must. Game on.

The case for Fulham: When West Ham began dealing with known money-launderers and Lucas Niell, my fondness for Fulham blossomed. Ours was a spring-fling, and now its time to see if what we had under the Cottage grandstand was real, or just lager-fueled groping.

A look at the pros:

• What light through yonder window breaks?
  It is the East, and Jimmy Bullard is the sun!
• Watching Fulham’s first three matches, you can’t help but be impressed with their new-found organization. Thus far they’ve refused to be stretched into the tatters that marked Chris Coleman’s time with the Cottagers.
• And what about that cottage, eh? One of the oldest grounds on the planet, Craven Cottage sits right on the bank of the Thames. It’s one of my favorite grounds to watch televised games played, and I can only imagine it’s better in person.

And some cons:

• Fulham came within inches of relegation last time out, and it doesn’t take much imagination to see them right there again.
• Summer spending? How about $18million dropped on the likes of Aaron Hughes, Lee Cook, David Healy, Chris Baird, Steven Davis and Adrian Leijer. Those are not made up names. They’re actual dudes. And I can’t really believe they cost more than a curry pie and a 24 of Tetley’s.
• Oh, and did I mention Paul Konchesky? SOOOO much fun to watch that guy kick it out of bounds.
• Holla!
• You know that douche-baggey Sam’s Army fan, right? Well he’s also a Fulham fan – likes to call them “Fulham USA.”

The case for Newcastle: The Magpies were my first Premiership love. I’ve shaken hands with David Ginola, stepped out on the St. James’ Park turf, and have a picture of myself wearing Kevin Keegan’s jacket in the NUFC laundry room. Yes, I have a history of abandoning teams. I’m not proud….which may actually be the key to bringing me back to Newcastle, because if there’s one club who’s supporters surely have no pride…

The pros:

• This ain’t your daddy’s Newcastle. Big Sam has come to “toon,” and managed to amass a roster of pure promise. Obafemi Martins? Alan Smith? David Rozenhal? Semi Boner, anyone?
• Most recognizable kit in the league.
• They just dealt Kieron Dyer, the other half of this equation, to West Ham. This simultaneously makes Newcastle more likable, and West Ham easier to forget.
• Charles N’Zogbia is a fantastic talent but, more importantly, has a last name that is ridiculously fun to say. I mutter “N’Zogbia” when I’m blue and it cheers me up. I order it as a side to hamburgers. I imagine I am a robot and “N’Zogbia” is my robo-name.
• Newcastle’s chief rival is Sunderland…which must drastically increase wins over their chief-rival.

That’s a serious helping of pros. On to the cons:

• The roster looks great…now. Martins has an escape clause which only he can stand in the way of, Michael Owen seems to play with one foot out the door, and keeping talents like N’Zogbia will continue to prove difficult.
• Stephen Carr: I hate you!
• As fun as “N’Zogbia” is to say, Belozoglu Emre’s first name cancels the joy out. Belozoglu. Terrible.
• Don’t get attached to your favorite Magpie: before the year is out, Joey Barton might have choked the life out of him with a tube sock.
• See that picture at right? He has the seat right next to yours. Note: If you watched the opening crowd shots of last week’s Newcastle-Villa match, I’m sure you caught sight of the shirtless/toothless guy with the camo pants? Exhibit B.

The Verdict: As an aspiring yuppy, my desire to support a riverfront London club puts Fulham out to an early lead, 1-nil. Newcastle evens the match before half-time on the strength of my desire not to have my son supporting a Championship team when he goes off to kindergarten. The second half bores me to tears as both teams conjure up a taste of the footballing mediocrity they’re prone to. Big Sam threatens to lose it for Newcastle with his lame-ass Bluetooth routine…Fulham fires wide when three American players attempt to link up with two Northern Irelanders. Drunken Geordies are everywhere. They reek. But wait…N’Zogbia, charging through the midfield! Left-footed laser…He’s done it! Newcastle over Fulham, 2-1!

My plans for strolls on the Thames and seats on the Cottage balcony are ruined, and I’m already suffering buyer’s remorse. “N’Zogbia, N’Zogbia, N’Zogbia…”

Lukey the Czech isn’t all pilsner and cigars. Just yesterday, he and I had a lengthy discussion about whether or not the transfer market was indeed a “market.” The idea of “value,” we decided, has been largely lost due to the massive availability of capital. And that’s why you have players like Younes Kaboul being purchased for $16million…because…why the hell not? It’s Greenspan’s irrational exuberance to a tee, but with pockets so deep that it doesn’t really matter. See, you can learn a lot from a Czech M.B.A.

Last week, though, we learned how to get off to a less than stellar start. Lukey now stands at a loss of $8.28 for this very young season (based on $5 and $10 mythical wagers). Let’s see if he can get back to his winning ways after the jump.

Lock of the Week:
Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve learned one thing from my 6 year old niece: little kids like to ask rhetorical questions. So here we go – Who is going to defend El Nino and Dirk Kuyt this weekend?

Let’s face it, Chelsea’s problems in the back have not gone away. Give up two goals against Birmingham at the Bridge and another one against offense-less Reading….not good, not good. Might we see Shaun Wright Phillips at right back again?? I’m predicting Torres (I love this guy) to open up his account here, with Voronin or Kuyt getting one as well. Luckily, “You’ll never walk alone” at Anfield and that’s good for Gerrard and his broken toe, especially on Sunday. Liverpool kick Jose in his little nuts…2-0.

Portsmouth v Bolton: 2-1
Birmingham v West Ham: 3-2
Fulham v Middlesbrough: 2-0
Reading v Everton: 1-2
Tottenham v Derby: 1-2
Wigan v Sunderland: 1-0
Newcastle v Aston Villa: 2-0

Man City v Man Utd: 1-0
Blackburn v Arsenal: 1-3
Liverpool v Chelsea: 2-0

Portsmouth v Bolton
Portsmouth 10/11
Draw 23/10
Bolton 10/3

Birmingham v West Ham
Birmingham 7/5
Draw 9/4
West Ham 15/8

Fulham v Middlesbrough
Fulham 5/4
Draw 9/4
Middlesbrough 11/5

Reading v Everton
Reading 6/4
Draw 9/4
Everton 15/8

Tottenham v Derby
Tottenham 1/2
Draw 3/1
Derby 15/2

Wigan v Sunderland
Wigan 5/4
Draw 9/4
Sunderland 11/5

Newcastle v Aston Villa
Newcastle Evs
Draw 12/5
Aston Villa 10/3

Man City v Man Utd Sunday 19th
Man City 4/1
Draw 12/5
Man Utd 4/5

Blackburn v Arsenal
Blackburn 5/2
Draw 9/4
Arsenal 5/4

Liverpool v Chelsea
Liverpool 6/4
Draw 11/5
Chelsea 2/1

As it currently accounts for 57% of the excitement in my life, it’s high time we checked in on the Celebrity Blogger Fantasy Premiership. Honestly, I pretty much stare at my team all day. Sometimes I hit refresh to see if player values have changed…but mostly I just redesign my team’s uniforms. Is it Saturday yet?

Current Leader: Pictured at right.

Overall Rank of the League: 5,199/81,657

You are over the moon right now if you own: Antoine Sibierski. The Wigan debutante cost 5.5 and has already netted you 15 points.

You are crying in your beer if you own: Cristiano Ronaldo. Your man-crush cost 12.1, and netted you 2 points over 2 games. Sexy!

Surprise Performer of the Week: My mother (The Pelicans) currently sits in 6th position. Will this bring on the Oedipal complex I never had?

Top O’ the Bloggers: Ummm…let’s see here…that would be….ME! Let’s go fucking mental! Let’s go fucking mental! Ahem. 22nd place, that is.

Bottom O’ the Bloggers: BeingSven’s entry, Clash City FC, are languishing 6 spots from bottom. Maybe because he’s been neglecting his fantasy team in favor of more productive pursuits…like holding forth on the Premier League’s crackdown on video highlights (Dave’s been doing the same).

My head is so far up the Premiership’s keester, I really can’t muster the interest needed to follow Beckham’s MLS progress. I can, however, recognize a great goal when it bites me on the nose. Below, please find David Beckham teaching Troy Perkins a lesson about trusting his wall. And however bad the accompanying music is, I assure you: the commentary was far worse.

The new “Sanchez Brothers” spots for Nike are, meh, ok. Not as funny in the ways Nike intended, but pretty unintentionally funny; like how Wayne Rooney’s rage-aholicism bubbles so close to the surface when he’s allowed to fire balls at a chained up dude in a jock-strap.

As is the way with companies employing “now” marketing, Nike has flooded YouTube with behind the scenes action from the spot, and it is here where I am given pause. One of two things must be true about the following video: Nike have doctored it a-la the Ronaldinho crossbar act, or Wayne Rooney is so much better than you it hurts. I’m okay with the former, but the latter could cause a lot of players some sleepless nights.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Really, Wayne? You came centimeters away on the first two tries, so you decide to break out the full volley just to make sure you got the shot on the third take? What, was it a union shoot? Didn’t want to spring for the overtime so you broke out the sure thing, eh? Fishy. And if not fishy, then ridiculously impressive.

First and foremost, a hearty “piss off” to the knobs at Time Warner Cable who see fit to deprive me of Setanta. You, gentlemen, are cocksuckers.

With that out of the way, I can offer some early impressions inspired by the small handful of games I got to lay my soccer-starved eyes on this past weekend.

Who the hell is that guy? He’s not bad! Perhaps Man City were merely flattered by their disastrous competition. But maybe, just maybe, they are a team vastly improved by a host of summer signings who may as well have dropped out of the sky as far as I’m concerned. Vedran Corluca? Elano? Rolando Bianchi? Whatever, man; rarely have extra-league signings looked so comfortable with the demands of the Premier League. Oasis albums must sound extra sweet about now.

Wow, that guy is still bad. New-look hammers? That hope was dashed with the graphic showing “Lee Bowyer” starting in midfield. West Ham were bad in the same ways they’ve been bad for just over a year now: inability to keep the ball, impotency in front of goal, general disorganization, and Bobby Zamora. Thankfully, I passed a huge personal test when I was able to view this game with almost no personal investment.

Torres is shaped like a giant triangle, and good. There’s a region in Spain that grows large, pretty men who look unstoppable on their debuts. Liverpool, really, were the only one of the Big Four who did what they were supposed to do on opening day. And the fact they did it against a Villa side that look like challengers for a place in Europe only adds to the impression that this might be the year for the Reds. In fact, I was ready to hand Cristiano Ronaldo’s crown to Torres until…

I saw Ronaldo play. The guy looks better than he did last year. Video game better. Enjoy the time we have with him, my friends, for we will likely tell our children about it. And if we get really carried away (after a few cocktails) we will tell them about Michael Carrick, a man who looks poised to become an elite Premier League midfielder. And we also might mention that the time for Ryan Giggs to fade quietly into the night is approaching. And that Patrice Evra stinks.

Karma, Lehmann. Lehmann, Karma. I hope that guy dies on the field.

Lawrie Sanchez – hipster. Jose Mourinho can take his tired-ass monochrome ties and shove ‘em: there’s a new style-master in town, and he has a girl’s name. The plastic rimmed glasses, the perfectly tailored suit, the plain white shirt – fantastic. Plus he has a sub-talented Fulham team organized into what actually resembles a football team. For every minute Fulham held their shape against the relentless and pointless passing of Arsenal, Chris Coleman looked worse. By the time Fulham crumbled, fans of the Cottagers could be forgiven for having two things to mourn: the loss, surely, and the wasted years spent with Coleman’s hands on the wheel. Viva La Sanchez!