The End of the Beginning

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ACT I

SCENE ONE

(A thatch-roofed bar that’s seen its best days years ago, located well off the beaten path, deep in the heart of the Florida Keys. A stranger wearing a straw cowboy hat, dark sunglasses, board shorts, flip flops and a rumpled t-shirt shirt emblazoned with the words "Victory in Moscow" is sitting by himself at the bar, staring intently at the lone television. A series of large green palms sway back and forth in the distance, and the occasional rustling of their fronds can be heard by the audience.)

FARLIEONFOOTIE

Give me a cold beer.

(Long pause)

Better make it a double.

NICK THE BARTENDER

 (Offers a quizzical look)

Say what?

FARLIEONFOOTIE

That's a joke.  Just get me a craft beer.  Something good.

NICK

Blue Moon?

FARLIEONFOOTIE

You trying to start a fight?  Just get me a Miller Lite. And turn up the volume.  United's on.

(fade out)

SCENE TWO

(A frozen Upton Park, snow falling heavily, with small piles of the grimy white stuff still visible on the endlines. A number of West Ham fans can be seen in the stands watching the game, several of them wearing snoods around their neck in a vain effort to stay warm, with the obligatory shirtless drunk standing in the middle.)

FAN #1

Bloody Hell.  Didja see that?

FAN #2

Unbelievable! That’s his second.  Where’d Spector come from?

FAN #1

By all rights he should’ve three.  If it wasn’t for that bloody wanker Clattenburg, he’d have a goddamn hat trick! 

FAN #2

But he normally sucks.  Can ya believe it?

FAN #1

                                    Couldn’t even make the Yanks’ side for the World Cup….            Friggin’ unbelievable.

SCENE THREE

Spurs of the Moment

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Fan favorite Ed returns, with a column he wrote on the spurs of the moment:

Sunday’s Spurs match against Liverpool was exciting to watch due to the unending stream of end-to-end action that has come to characterize the team’s play this season.  It seems as if the entire EPL is finally catching on, as well, as it’s been widely reported elsewhere that this weekend was the first time every team in the EPL scored at least one goal.  No one but the Italians want to watch the painful cantenaccio style of overloading the defensive backfield and trying to steal a goal on a counter, and teams like Spurs and Blackpool have shown you can play aggressively and still put up wins, even at the highest level. 

The best news for Spurs fans is that the team is now starting to show up in League play with the same determination that they have previously been bringing to their Champions League tilts.  Beating Arsenal away, then winning a Champions League game, and then following that with a comeback win against Liverpool is an impressive accomplishment that should not be overlooked, even if the Liverpool of today is not exactly the Liverpool of old. (By the way, who is occupying the body of Fernando Torres, and what exactly has happened to him?  If it’s you, farlieonfootie, please put down the freaking Ouija Board and get out, it’s becoming painful to watch this guy transform from best in the world to someone who would have a tough time breaking the starting lineup for Wigan.) 

So Spurs are currently, as has been suggested elsewhere in this blog, in Rarefied Air.  In order to ride the wave, here are my top five warm and cuddly thoughts on the current squad:

A Shakesperian Drama in Five Parts, as Played on a Catalonian Stage

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farlie on footie special European correspondent Todd returns to our pages by popular demand, reporting tonight from Barcelona’s London Bar, where he's still actively looking for Hemingway’s ghost:

When farlieonfootie asked me to cover this year's Superclásico, it was with some trepidation that I approached the subject, for it was no simple task.  The 161st league meeting of Real Madrid and Barcelona would weave storylines complex enough to make even a spider dizzy, and had all the makings of a Shakespearean drama, including:

·         Catalonian rebels vs. the Crown

·         Pep the local hero vs. the Special One imported from abroad

·         Messi vs. Ronaldo – the last two winners of the Ballon d’Or

·         Barça vs. the coach that swiped their Champions League Cup

·         Played on the 111^1th anniversary of the founding of L’equip blaugrana

The rain falling on Camp Nou served as an omen that tears would be shed after this Superclásico match-up.  The stage was set and the players included most of the World Cup champion side, though predominantly wearing the blaugrana kit.   These are casts that coaches dream of.

Rather than recant the plays that comprised the game, as many other bloggers will, I instead offer some insights to ponder.  Before proceeding, though, a few caveats.  First, I confess that I am an avid Barça supporter so please, dear reader, consider the perspective from which I savored the match.  Second, I am a modestly informed spectator of European football despite my inescapable American roots.  And third, I am a midfielder by blood, heart, and mind.  OK?  Then, let’s begin.

Rapture

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St. James Park / Newcastle Upon Tyne, England / November 28

It's a rematch of the League Cup from late September, with only the location having changed,  Newcastle hosting Chelsea today at St. James Park. Sol Campbell makes his first Premier League appearance for the home side, whose defense is not exactly at full strength for the match. Regular Captain Kevin Nolan also sits out with a knock, as Shola Ameobi deputzies for the Geordies, who are looking to rise above arch-rival Sunderland in the table. The pitch is a frozen slab of brown, green and white, and if the early bounces are any indication, players on both teams will have significant trouble just keeping control of the ball today.

As if illustrating that fact, there's a misunderstanding between Alex and Petr Cech to open the scoring, the Brazilian defender's back pass escaping the arms of the Chelsea 'keeper, who's rounded by a surprisingly speedy Andy Carroll. The recent England call-up has little work to do to put the home side ahead, the net vacated by Cech, and the goal at his mercy. It's 1-nil Newcastle in the 7th minute, and the crowd which braved the sub-zero temperature is frozen in rapture.

Twenty minutes in and the visitors are beginning to look a bit more dangerous, despite their lack of goals in recent competitions.  Chelsea have begun the day in a new 4-4-2 formation, in a bid to gain width through Kalou and Malouda, with Anelka and Drogba playing as co-equals up top. Although the scoreline does not reflect it, the Blues begin to control the ball better after some early wobbliness.There are more miscues by the makeshift Chelsea backline near the 25 minute mark, Ameobi and Carroll ending up on the end of a long cross into the box, but with both strikers making the same run there's no one home to knock the ball in amdist the chaos and carnage that is the Chelsea defense.

Manchester United Meet the Mouse (A Holiday-Themed Magnum Opus)

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The following is a semi-fictional account of events that may or may not have actually happened. Although real names have been used, events have been changed to protect the innocent:

farlieonfootie on family holiday today; even media moguls need to take the occasional break. Instead of the usual blow-by-blow coverage of the United vs. Blackburn game, I have decided to live blog the game as I walk the World Showcase at Walt Disney World's EPCOT theme park, family in tow. My wife has left me in charge of the children for a couple hours as she heads out to shop, trusting I won't get into too much trouble watching both the game and the kids. I assure her that everything will be fine, but I'm not certain I'm all that convincing in my declaration.

Not only will the kids and I be enjoying our global travels around the man-made EPCOT lake, it's "Holidays Around the World" today, with each country in the World Showcase highlighting its own special holiday traditions.  To put me in a festive mood, I've decided to have one drink, and one drink only, for each goal the Reds score this afternoon. I'm quite certain today's game will be a low scoring affair, and after all, I have the children to consider.

The day begins gloriously: 65 degrees and the sun is shining. I studiously ignore the creep who passes me wearing a Liverpool shirt. As he has a small child with him, similarly attired, I can only assume that not only is he raising the child improperly, but likely maltreating him at home, as well. I make a mental note to keep an eye on the kid, and am ready at a moment's notice to call the Disney police if I see any nefarious activities occurring.  After all, when it comes to childrens' welfare these days, one can't be too careful.

The game starts just as the kids and I arrive in the France pavilion. Before we can even sit down, however, Berbatov has the ball in the back of the net for a quick United lead. The goal owes a heavy debt to Anderson, whose alert play just a few seconds earlier jostled the loose ball free from Blackburn goalkeeper Paul Robinson. From there, the ball is found by Nani, who sends it goalward, where it's flicked on by Rooney, with the lanky Bulgarian getting the final touch to send the ball into the back of the net.


I decide to celebrate the end of Berba's dry streak by ending my own: as I'm in France, it seems obligatory to find a glass of champagne to toast the many talents of our Dimi.  Love him or hate him (and I'm firmly in the former camp), there's no doubt Berba has the same type of game-changing skill as that of a much-beloved United man from France: Cantona. In honor of said Eric, I make a vow to head back to France again if Berbatov gets another. I savor the drink, assuming it'll be my last on the day, although you never know with Berbatov.... 

Rocky Mountain High

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farlieonfootie reporting from a recent visit to frigid Toronto, Canada, where he attended the fifteenth edition of the MLS Cup, as the championship of Major League Soccer was decided before an underwhelming international audience:


BMO Field / Toronto, Canada / November 21

• It's FC Dallas vs. the Colorado Rapids in the MLS Cup Final from Toronto. Toronto, you ask?  Why in the world is the MLS Cup being played in Canada in November? Good questions, as it looks pretty darn cold and windy up in the Great White North tonight. This location was cooked up by the same geniuses who thought the Super Bowl should be played in New York rather than Miami. Steve McManaman looked frozen, as well as VERY orange, as his makeup man used WAY too much orange blush. McManaman looked like an Oompa Loompa.

• You know you're in trouble when the announcers speak about the two teams in the game being "not the sexiest" sides in the League, and hope that the winner can become "relevant in their home market" if they win.

• I will say I am suitably impressed by ESPN's production values, with the network employing both Ian Darke and McManaman in live roles, shuttling them over the pond from their typical English locales. It's yet another sign of ESPN's total commitment to the sport, in an effort to capitalize on the momentum generated in the US by the World Cup. My only request?  Please ditch Alexi Lalas; he's about as good an announcer as he was a player, and that's not saying much.

Rarefied Air for Spurs

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farlieonfootie correspondent James checks in from his rather excellent adventure at the Lane Wednesday night, where he played witness to Spurs' somewhat shockingly easy dismissal of Werder Bremen in the Champions League:

The legion of Yids find themselves in rarefied air as Spurs face an unprecedented opportunity to advance to the knockout stages of the Champions League against an injury depleted Werder Bremen squad. Spurs lineup is the same as played this past weekend, with the exception of Van der Vaart's absence and Crouch getting his typical international start. In VDV's place Uncle Harry has inserted a second striker - Pavlyuchenko paired with Crouch - in a typically aggressive strategy for Spurs in the pan-European competition.


Will the Lily Whites be hung over from their hugely emotional win at the Emirates four days ago, and without their Dutch Talisman (resting a troublesome hamstring)? Any doubts are put to rest right from the opening.


The crowd at the Lane is electric as usual, and as Modric and Jenas control the mid field, and the Jeckyl-and-Hyde-like Lennon appears to have woken up on the right side of his bed today, injecting great pace on the right wing. It's Lennon who breaks free on a wonderful rush to set up the suddenly prolific Kaboul in only the 6th minute of the game. While Kaboul will never be accused of being a goal scoring machine, the former journeyman has emerged as the latest successful Redknapp reclamation project and, along with Gallas, anchored an injury ravaged center defense for Spurs and scored the winner at the Emirates.

Stumbling Forward

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United attempts to book a place in the knockout stages of the Champions League tonight with a victory over Rangers at Ibrox. In addition to trying to secure the three points, tonight will represent a crucial return to the partnership between Dimitar Berbatov and Wayne Rooney, a partnership which has been little seen of late, but one which United fans are keen to see rekindled.

Tonight we'll also get to view the long unseen but never forgotten Ryan Giggs, who comes back to the starting lineup after a long spell out with a tweaked hamstring. Although the United offense and midfield are full of veterans, the defense features newboy Chris Smalling and youngster Jonny Evans, who has been benched for quite some time due to early season performance issues.

For Rangers, sadly from a purely American point of view, Maurice Edu is out tonight. The Scottish side stack the back, essentially playing five defenders in an effort to repeat the clean sheet earned at Old Trafford last the two sides met.

United look more lively from the start, Berbatov offering a header at the eight minute mark, but the ball is hit directly at the goalkeeper. Both Nani and Berbatov have shouts for penalties early on, although both are denied by a referee who sees nothing wrong with either challenge, with only Nani's bloody mouth serving as evidence of his maltreatment at the hands of the home side.

Ten Reasons I'm Thankful to be a Manchester United Fan

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Even the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade Turkey Loves Manchester United
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On this day of American Thanksgiving, here are ten reasons among many that I'm thankful to be a Red:

1.  No Carlos Tevez. Could this guy be any more annoying?  I hate him, absolutely detest him, so I'm thankful he's moved across town to the noisy neighbors' house. Good riddance, and good luck over there. By the way, I don't think they've won anything for, oh, about 34 years or thereabouts. Enjoy being trophyless, Mr. Tevez.

2. Chicharito. I love this guy. Regular readers of farlieonfootie will have been on the little Mexican's bandwagon for some time now, and the rest of the world is still figuring out just how good this guy is going to be. The sky's the limit, in my opinion, as the Little Sweet Pea seems ebullient not only to be scoring regularly, but even more so just to be playing.

3. Nani's Creativity. In a season in which the Red Devils have been struggling offensively, even against supposedly "lesser" Premier League sides, Nani has been a shining beacon of creativity on the right side of midfield. I shudder to think where we'd be without him this year, and it shows just how much the Portuguese winger has improved that a year ago I'll readily admit I wasn't sure he belonged at Old Trafford. I'm sure of it now, though, and thankful he plays for United.

Et tu, Blackpool?

 Friends, Englishmen, Countrymen, Lend me Your Ears 
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farlieonfootie correspondent Ed returns from his time in the wilderness to the pages of this blog, with gentle apologies to a certain William Shakespeare:

November 19, 2010 / Somewhere Between Bloomfield Road and Stratford-Upon-Avon / England

The game begins with the crack of a thunderbolt off the leg of Blackpool’s David Vaughan – where at 5:03pm, and from 30 meters a majestic volley does flash its way past an astonished and hopeless Wolves keeper Marcus Hahnemann.  No, there is more than mere astonishment in Hahnemann, it is horror; shock; agony; eyeless, tongueless; just sound, and his eyes rolling into the back of his head for a brief white instant.  Because for Hahnemann and Wolves, here is yet another killing frost to the tender leaves of hope – the hope of escaping the bottom of the table and relegation from the Premier League. 

But as anyone who’s watched Blackpool knows, this strike will only be the beginning of the madness and the elegance of another Seasider match.  A match that is also being appreciated by the Crown, as the gracious and bespectacled Prince William is among the spectators (although not actually of the spectators).  And as has been reported elsewhere, and therefore will also be reported here, the Prince is found cheering for the mighty – nay, Majestic! – Tangerines.

But no stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, can be retentive to the strength of spirit.  And so, beaten but undeterred, Wolves fight back.  Matthew Jarvis on the left wing simply terrorizes Blackpool back Neal Eardley, pushing the orb past him time and again, and launching searching crosses towards the heart of the crease.