dish bish

The sun has set

2007-10-22T12:17:00.001+08:00

...on the current *dish* *bish*. It may come back again, but could also decide to remain a passive participant of blogosphere.

I've enjoyed doing this, and if I do decide to come back again, Im looking forward to connecting with all of you once again. I've made many friends here - Daniel Gallivanter, Lily The Liverbird, Desparil, 9, the Hantubola fellas, Anttyk, Mong, Mamabola, A Shabby Singh, Visithra, Mirabelle, Doreen, Jemima, etc... and have also deepened my friendship with those I know offline - Mr. D, Metria, K Shan, Mat Kolej, etc.

To those of you who have me on your Facebook - do continue keeping in touch there.

Adios!

For Loga, and for days that have now long gone

2007-06-04T17:00:00.000+08:00

Loganathan Arumugam or better known as Loga of the Alleycats passed away at 10.50am this morning at the Mount Miriam Hospital in Penang. He was 54.

Loga (3rd from Right) and the Alleycats will always remain a memory of how cool we once were

I will always identify Loga and the Alleycats in general with their afros (even though only Loga and his brother David had them) and evergreen Malay tunes, which at the time I first heard it as a child really told me that we live in a country truly blind of colour, creed and religion.

The Alleycats, together with P Ramlee, cartoonist Lat, Tan Sri Khir Johari and Sudirman were of a small number of personalities who truly personified the muhibbah spirit we espoused as children, upheld at teenagers, questioned in our 20s and now view with askance and cynicism in our 30s (I imagine a few 30-somethings are reading this).

You know another group that did it for me? The Selangor football squad of the 80’s, with legends of the game like Mokhtar Dahari, Santokh Singh, the immortal “Spiderman” A Arumugam, and group, and other Malaysian greats like Soh Chin Aun and Ghani Minhat – all of whom I was fortunate enough to see in action during the old (pre Semi-Pro rubbish) days and in a number of Merdeka Tournament games my father and uncles used to take me to.

SuperMokh brought the 'fear factor' and a sense that something could happen onto the field

I was a big fan, and I am proud of a childhood and teenage years where I scoured the back pages of the newspaper for the latest news and results on local football (with as much enthusiasm as I do these days with the EPL), and have vivid memories of painting my face red and yellow, trudging along with the many other Selangor fans from Rex theatre to Stadium Merdeka for home games.

Those were days when we really believed we were great on the football field, which we were by virtue of grinding out hard-fought results against South Korea, Japan, and other Asian nations who, sad to say, have far, far eclipsed us in the arena of international football.

'Spiderman' Arumugam gave the centrebacks Santokh and Soh Chin Aun confidence to foray upfield

Those were the days when I truly believed we were a great nation, growing up as I did to influences such as these. I wonder who and where our children these days turn to for inspiration, and what defines their generation. Mawi? Siti? Academy Fantasia? RM6 billion allegedly high-performance sports training academies in London? I’m not weeping for Malaysia yet, but with a list like this, it won’t be long I guess.

For now, strains of Alleycats’ hit Andainya Aku Pergi Dulu Sebelum Mu ring chillingly true these days for Malaysia, as much as it does for the late Loga.

Our condolences to his family, his brother David and the rest of the Alleycats. Rest in peace Loga, and trima kaseyyy for all the memories.

Istanbul revisited

2007-05-23T19:13:00.000+08:00

Oh, how much has happened since the last post. Let's take quick stock:

Champions!
My beloved Manchester United are champions of England once again, in spite of all my early-season negativity and cynicism. There we're some tricky moments along the way, and I for one thought after loss against Portsmouth and when Everton went 2-0 up that the dream was over. Thanks to Bolton Wanderers, Bouhlarouz and that Gilberto Silva penalty (not forgetting Ballack and Shevchenko for a variety of reasons), we finally have our trophy back.

FA Cup Final
Which was, admittedly, a big bore. The only encouraging thing from the game was watching the trophy presentation as a trophy presentation should be - from the stands, with the captain receiving it first. I truly hate the new-style trophy presentations on the pitch, which really ruined two great World Cups (2002, and 2006).

Keane-O is back!
And boy am I looking forward to those Sunderland vs. chelsea matches next season, and when Sunderland come calling to Old Trafford. Surely the crowd will give their favourite son the reception he well and truly deserves.

In a suit and behind the touch-line, but he's back, baby!

Anyway, on to other things, and tonight we see if Istanbul can indeed be avenged (by Milan) or revisited (by Liverpool). This also heralds a new era for *dish* *bish*, as we welcome our co-writer: my cousin and hard core Liverpool fan, Mat Kolej.

Oh, yes - a United fan and a Liverpool fan can work together at times, and if anything I'm sure there'll be more updates here, starting with the following one:

Istanbul revisited
After 24 months since that crazy match which most probably gave millions a few irregular heart beats and half of those people a really memorable memory to hold on to, Milan and Liverpool are at it again.

This time around I feel that too much has been made about Liverpool putting another one over the red and black of Milan. Every paper that you see on the news stands is dominated by articles on Liverpool - probably a ratio of 3 to 1 in terms of articles published. Normally these days when a person and the media goes over board and starts hyping about a team or a certain player somehow or rather the opposite happens and things do not go down too well - damn all this jinxing!

I feel Gerrard should not have taken a go at the guy he claims scares him like a kitten. Absolutely needless, just look what happened the last time Milan’s President took a go at Liverpool. He just ate humble pie and made a disappearing act after Istanbul. Maybe the two cases differ but you get the point.

We need to handle this psycho better than Carrick did

Despite all those stories from how to stop a certain Brazilian maestro (use Mascherano, Rafa), to tickets allocations not being enough, to people selling tickets at ludicrous prices, to whether Milan avenge their scarring defeat in Istanbul, or whatever you have read on the papers or the trusty net you’ll be a fool to put your foot down and bet your life on which team will triumph because when it comes down to European Nights like this anything is possible…well maybe less spectacular than Istanbul but still special.

Milan remain the favourites but either team is capable of pulling off something.

My three wishes for the final are:

1. That it turns out to be a cracking game of football
2. It does not start raining and Astro doesn't start tripping
3. Zenden does not start for Liverpool (could there be anyone more unfashionable and dull?)

Top 10 Thoughts of the Week

2007-04-24T14:38:00.000+08:00

There is something to be said about having a new-born baby: all those sleepless nights means you are supposed to have extra time awake thinking new thoughts.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the lamest excuse for not updating this space in general, and for lazy, half-hearted updates (like this one) when I do eventually get around to it.

That aside, these are my Top 10 Thoughts of the Week, in no particular order (I was too lazy to prioritise):

1. Treble? Quadruple?
... and specifically what must teams like Liverpool and AC Milan think about all this nonsense of a United vs. chelsea final? Come to think of it, what must AC Milan be thinking about people saying they're gatecrashing the English FA Cup?

Something is seriously amiss here, and I think all this talk about bringing the Cup back to England is going to result in some serious karmatacks ('karma attacks', or my feeble attempt of creating an inlusion for Webster's next edition).

2. Roy Keane
It looks like he's coming back up (wiht Sunderland) to where the action is, and the Premiership could do with a bit of this maverick if you ask me. Boy, am I looking forward to the impending chelsea vs Sunderland games, just so Mourinho can see what a real tough guy is like. I'd like to see him try some stunt on Keane, instead of picking on geriatrics like Ferguson, Wenger and lately Senor Benitez.

Let's see you try your nonsense on this guy, Jose!

3. chelsea
My loathing for the club grows deeper and deeper, and it was a real true pleasure seeing them sulk off the field after the goalless draw with Newcastle (thanks Titus Bramble for your performance of the season!).

From now on - purely for the purposes of registering my very poor estimate of this club - I will always type 'chelsea' in lowercase, with the C in chelsea never capitalised (to further mark my protest, I have even refused to colour this sub-header).

Anyone with contact to the Stamford Bridge press room, please do pass along this bit of protest from the Far East.

4. George Boateng
... must be feeling pretty lousy in spite of that 'precious' point, as the Middlesborough captain saw the match finish with Ronaldo's ankles still in tact. Turned out to be all talk, eh Georgey Boy!

5. Christiano Ronaldo
Now he's been good this season, but he's certainly not Player of the Year and Young Player of the Year good? I still think Either one should have gone to another player, either to Drogba for the former (he has single handedly brought chelsea to where they are) or Cesc Fabregas for the latter (the only shining light in a terrible season for Arsenal) .

Sure he's good, but that good?

6. Sri Lanka vs. Australia
The line-up for the ICC Cricket World Cup final is still on the cards, and they square off with New Zealand and South Africa respectively in this weekend's semi-finals. The Lankans lost to the Australians in the Super Eights, but it was a defeat shrouded in strategy; by not fielding their best two bowlers (Mutthiah Muralitharan and Chaminda Vaas) they have effectively not shown their hand and will unleash the two 'secret weapons' in the expected final against the defending champions.

The way the tournament has been going for the Lankans, they just might get away with it. And deservedly so!

7. Lewis Hamilton
Is this guy every bit as good as the papers say he is. Team McLaren have long been bereft of a worthy champion (Raikonnen flattered to deceive), and the time has got to be now. Between him and Alonso they have got to get it done this year.

This will all be a waste of good bubbly if they both don't land McLaren some serious silverware

8. The Old Trafford injury list
... grows longer and longer, and it now looks like United wll certainly field their 2nd string defence (minus Mikael Silvestre) in the upcoming crunch matches against chelsea, AC Milan and the rest of the Premiership. Has the early seaon chelsea curse come north?

9. Sir Alex Ferguson
Will this be Fergie's last season should he manage to once again win the treble? I certainly can't see him doing any better than this season, whether or not he pulls it off. Would he leave?

And importantly, who are the candidates primed as his successor? I really do think no list would be complete without the names of two managerial prodigies and Old Trafford's favourite sons Roy Keane and Mark Hughes (too bad for West Brom and Bryan Robson).

... and finally:

10. When, oh when will she sleep through the night?
Any parents out there with some good advice?

Ground control to Major Tom...

2007-04-13T10:38:00.000+08:00

What a week it has been. This was pretty good:

So was this, a few days earlier (I'm a big McLaren fan, if you didn't already know):

I saw neither the first, nor the second. Because let me tell you that there is nothing - absolutely nothing - that compares with this:

Say hello to my daughter, Isabel Aria Joachim
Born Thursday, April 5th 2007 at 5:30pm. Mother and baby are very well. Father is still somewhere between numb and delirious.

Happy Easter everybody! Normal service resumes once I get back to earth. Soon, I hope...

In anticipation...

2007-03-29T13:42:00.000+08:00

Those of you who know me offline will probably know that these days I spend my entire time tethering on the edge, bouncing off the walls, pondering this question: Will it be today?

It's no excuse for the lack of updates, but between the on-going Cricket World Cup and the three important questions are circling in my head 24/7 (yes, even while I sleep), I really can't seem to focus on updating this space:

Question 1: Will I rise to the occasion and handle it well?
Question 2: Will it all eventually turn out well?
Question 3: Will it be a girl, or a boy?

Watch this space, folks! :)

Who's going to tell the Americans?

2007-03-08T15:16:00.000+08:00

Proud new owners and co-chairmen of ‘the Liverpool Reds’ were said to have been overwhelmed by the monstrous crowd at Anfield for the return leg of the Champions’ League group of 16 clash against Barcelona.

It said something of the sport we all love – irrespective of whether we’re fans of Liverpool, United, Arsenal or lesser clubs like Leeds or Chelsea – that, in this age of commercialism and brand hegemony, football still has the capacity to make men like Gillett and Hicks, owners of sporting clubs the world over, feel humbled at the sheer spirit that breathes life into the game.

The Anfield crowd celebrating before, during and after the loss to Barcelona

Liverpool aides however were heard to have been scrambling around and about the Anfield directors box on Tuesday, thinking about what to say to their puzzled bosses who stood in disbelief wondering why the rapturous Kop crowd celebrated a 1-0 defeat to Barcelona.

Who will tell the Americans?

Those barging Argies
On field skirmishes in England (Lampard vs. Fabregas, Arsenal vs. Chelsea, Scholes vs. Alonso) have been increasing in frequency of late, but none of them could have hoped to compare to the scale and drama of the 2nd leg of the Valencia and Inter Milan game.

And what a gang-fight it was! Those Argentines were at it again: Burdisso, Ayala, Zanetti, Crespo, Cordoba, Cruz and even Esteban Cambiasso (who wasn’t even on the pitch, mind you) were all in the thick of it, as was the infamous Marco Materrazi (suprise, suprise!).

They eventually caught the bloke who was stupid enough to steal their lunch money

Had this been Fenerbache or Galatasaray you could have been sure the powers-that-be from UEFA would have been stirred into action, commissioners would have been woken up from their beds to compose reports, and the continent’s aristocrats would undoubtedly be certainly be clucking their tongues, happy and eager to hand out generous bans to the infidel clubs.

Surely we can’t expect the same retribution for Inter Milan and Valencia. The watching mob of industrialists American billionaires with football clubs on their summer shopping lists will be puzzled indeed, and nobody wants to buy a club on the throes of a serious knuckle rapping from the authorities.

Who's going to explain all this to them?

Believe me, it ain’t over!
... at least not until the fat lady sings. She may be gargling her throat and indulging in a bit of a sing-song in the shower (oh, the fright of that scene), but she’s not quite ready to belt out the hit that would sink the adversaries of my beloved Manchester United.

Not yet. Not by a long mile. Not when the fixtures are showing some really tricky home (Bolton, Blackburn and Middlesborough) and away appointments (Everton, Manchester City and Chelsea) still to go.

And certainly not when the crock list at Old Trafford seems to be getting longer and longer with each passing day. Saha, Solksjaer, Evra and now Silvestre (not that he really mattered anyway) have all been given sick-notes by the club doctor.

Add that to Rooney’s sputtering form, Scholes’ upcoming suspension, the nagging uncertainty behind Ronaldo’s future, Larsson’s journey home and, err... Michael Carrick, and it all means that the Devils’ camp can’t really be in the high spirits that many have said surrounds it.

The Glaziers however are the sort of gullible folks who like to believe their own press, and United have been at the sharp end of the media coverage of late. The Old Trafford lackeys will certainly be working overtime to make sure their bosses believe every word of it.

"Daddy will be so pleased! Next year I'm asking for Leeds United."

But there’s something amiss, and I have a sneaky feeling all this recent good fortune will come undone in no time at all. I shudder at the possibility.

And when that happens, what do we tell the Americans?

The "alleged best player in the world on current form"

2007-02-28T14:37:00.000+08:00

The points stand at the conspicuous number 69, a good nine points clear of Chelsea (who indeed have a grand one game in hand), but let’s be very honest, I could have well been just 67 points after the game against Fulham. Indeed, it could have stayed at just 66 had a certain Edwin van der Sar not have anything to do with it.

Cue Christiano Ronaldo, who at the 88th minute showed his peers, his manager and the staff and board of my beloved Manchester United exactly why he deserves – demands even – a salary reflecting the club’s estimate of his talent.

What a difference 8 months make

In his shoes not many would play it differently; if United were to own the bragging rights to the alleged best player in the world on form, then they had better put their money where their mouths are. From Ronaldo to Ferguson, Gill et al: “Show me the money!”

Few would have interest to argue with the caveat-laden tag of ‘best player in the world on current form’ that Ronaldo has been said to warm up to of late. This time last year Thierry Henry would have easily deserved this, had it not been for the deserving Ronaldinho; I personally would have handed it to Henry who single handedly inspired and led his team of fledgling prodigies to within 13 minutes of Champions’ League victory – a large portion of the game played with only 10 players - only to be thwarted by the Brazilian's more accomplished team-mates.

Didier Drogba’s goals aside, it would be a tough argument for anyone to put the Ivorian in contention for this tag. Ronaldo’s goals on the other hand have spurred United on to where they currently are in the Premiership. Cesc Fabregas has been immense for Arsenal (I still think he should have taken a good swing at Lampard), but again Ronaldo’s influence on the growingly confident United team has been truly immeasurable. And great results aside there certainly doesn’t seem to be anybody from Liverpool – including Steven Gerrard – who can hope to compare with the twinkle-toed Ronaldo – on current form.

United will need more and more from him, in the light of Larsson’s return to Sweden in 10 days, and in clear and honest consideration of Rooney’s decline in form.

Without meaning to jinx it, the team seems to be peaking just at the right time though, and Giggs, Scholes and Saha are really coming into their own. Still, it only takes a rash or malicious tackle or an uneven pitch to throw the boy wonder from Medeira into the Old Trafford injury list, and along with it perhaps any chance of United wrestling the title they last won four years ago.

Best player in the world? On current form, definitely. Show him the money United!

Golf lessons this Saturday
The ‘current form’ phenomenon continues, and I for one will not begrudge Liverpool their recent results against Sheffield United and Barcelona, coming as it did in the wake of the slightly-too-exuberant night out in Portugal.

Rafa seems to have built a dream midfield, and new-kid-on-the-Kop Javier Mascherano looked the solid player he was at last year’s World Cup. That aside – on current form – he still isn’t their best central midfielder, and neither is Gerrard or Xabi Alonso. That honour belongs to Momo Sissoko, who was simply phenomenal in the Barcelona game. Another foray to the right wing for Gerrard perhaps?

All things said, this game has all the makings of a classic; but as all predicted classics go, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised with an eventual stalemate.

Liverpool vs. Manchester United
LIVE from Anfield. Saturday, March 3rd, 2007. 7.45 pm.

This is the match of the week!

The Manchester United juggernaut rolls on

2007-02-06T11:20:00.000+08:00

Without sounding too proud, I'm delighted to say how much I enjoyed seeing my beloved Manchester United zoom past a hapless Tottenham Hotspurs on Sunday.

The first half was a frenetic affair, and there was a sense that if Spurs came up with the opening goal it could have been a difficult evening for United. But when Ronaldo scored (from a dubious penalty claim, I accept) there was only going to be one winner.

To be honest though, Larsson had a reasonable claim to a penalty from that careless Gardner tackle earlier on, which the referree didn't award. Another claim at the other end was also ignored, but in the end Spurs took home exactly what they brought to the game, which is to say precisely, nothing!

Many would say that the momentum is on the side of United at the moment, and their movement, squad depth and most importantly team spirit is at an all time high. It is their title to lose indeed.

The critics though will continue to go to town claiming United can win a title only at the expense of other teams' misfortune. These are those who say that had Cech, Terry and Joe Cole not been injured, Chelsea would definitely be ahead at this point.

Why the long face, Jose?

These are also those make the erroneous claim that United have been strangely fortunate to not have injuries in the course of the season, myopically ignoring the fact that Vidic - by far United's best player this season - didn't start the season. They will also conveniently forget that Giggs, Neville, Heinze and Saha have all had their spells with injury and needed to have been deputised time and again by their able replacements.

And they resolutely forget that Solksjaer made a two-year recovery before returning to the field and popping in the goals the way he has. Or that Alan Smith is still shrugging off the effects of a horrendous injury. Or that Scholes and Rooney were unavaiable for four matches at the start of the season, serving time for a longer than necessary suspension.

Worst of all, they can't seem to remember what the club with all the rubles in the world and their special manager once boasted - not too long ago - that they have enough so much strength in their squad, they actually have two first team players for every position.

... and on...
In recognition of that claim, let's all take a look at how things look like at the United bench (or indeed, the plush, Audi-branded bucket seats, as the case may be). I don't ever remember United going on a buying spree in past seasons - and I did indeed bemoan the bleak team sheet when the season began - yet it looks like there somehow seems to be enough to field another strong team in the Premiership.

Consider if you will: Kuszczak, Silvestre, Heinze, Brown, O'Shea, Fletcher, Richardson, Park, Smith, Dong, Solksjaer. Could a team like this sit well about... Spurs?

... and on...
I watched the Addicks play Chelsea over the weekend, and if not for that fortunate strike by Frank Lampard, Alan Pardew's men could have come away with a result of sorts.

Charlton stand a good chance as the other relegation candidates to stay up in the Premiership next year. Which means all is not lost for them. Which means they'll be playing like hell to save their skins. Which can only mean a tough afternoon at Old Trafford.

Previous Premiership aspirations have always been scuppered by poor results against bottom teams, which means United will have to be extra resolute to get maximum points in this game and keep the blue bastards at bay.

Manchester United vs. Charlton
LIVE from Old Trafford. Saturday, February 10th, 2007. 11.00pm.

This is not the match of the week though. That game is at St. James' Park, where Newcastle take on Liverpool - two teams battered and bruised from their weekend mis-adventures, and very eager to get a result.

Bruce Springsteen, and the club that never walks alone

2007-01-26T13:01:00.000+08:00

I like Bruce Springsteen - The Boss. Nobody tells a story in a song as well as The Boss does. Nobody throws a concert like The Boss throws them. And nobody can don a pair of overalls and pose unshaven for a photograph like The Boss can.

Here's the thing: anyone who has listened to a Springsteen album will understand that The Boss is probably the world’s number one working class hero, no matter that he's probably rich enough to buy El Salvador. Which is all very curious when you consider how lousy he makes the blue collar life sound.

He has spun countless stories about simple folks with complex problems - almost all of them involving a car that runs badly, a lousy job that they're about to lose, or a girl named Mary (most Springsteen songs have a girl named Mary).

His stories are filled with empty highways, decaying factories, workers on strike, smoggy industrial skylines, wood paneled taverns, and rustic characters who once had it all going for them, but through life's cruel turn now find themselves with no money, no car, no job, and a wife (named Mary) that's about to leave them.

Evidently, nobody in Springsteen's blue collar hell ever gets promoted to manager, or even able to afford a decent Toyota. They instead exist in proletarian hell where mortgages are foreclosed, transmissions leak, and wives have a "headache" every night.

I feel your pain, brother Scouser...

The Boss knows how it feels to be a Liverpool fan
Here is a club that has once won - at some point in its tumultuous history - every prize worth winning in club football. 18 league championships, 7 FA Cups, 7 League Cups, and importantly 5-time winners of the European Cup / Champions' League.

And almost every Liverpool fan you meet will not hesitate to remind you of just that - the statistics. Liverpool fans live and breathe the history that once was. The great 80's with Souness, Hansen and King Kenny – and a bit later with Rush, Barnes, Beardsley and the rest - when they took all of Britain and most of Europe by storm, weighing in as number one contenders on almost every major competition.

Later years saw them unearth the prodigious, predatory talents of Robbie Fowler and Michael Owen. Current captain Steven Gerrard and his deputy Jamie Carragher embody the very spirit of the club: resilience, passion, thirst for glory and a never-day-die approach on the field. A friend who is a die-hard Liverpool fan – and I am close to many of these, in spite of my allegiance to my beloved Manchester United – once said “if Liverpool had six Gerrards and five Carraghers we could again be the club we once were.”

And therein lies the conundrum of the Liverpool fan: in this day and age when strategy, inventiveness, technical ability, panache, wizardry, flair, elegance, flamboyance and style are the sort of buzzwords used by so many to describe a modern football club, all of these don’t matter as much to the Liverpool fan as much as the heart does.

They say if the heart is empty, the rest don't matter (and rightly so).

Truth be told they have had many nights where the heart eventually won the day. Last year’s FA Cup final against West Ham United was one such occasion; on their day, the most tactically astute team don’t have a hope in hell of walking past a Liverpool team that turn up feeling all heart and blood and sweat and tears.

And nobody ever needs reminding of that glorious night in Istanbul. Hand on heart, I will say it meant more to their fans who for over a decade were bereft of any notable achievement, vis-à-vis Manchester United’s dramatic Champions' League victory in 1999, when many of the club’s fans were already used to close to a decade of winning everything.

It’s heart, and blood, and sweat, and tears. Very working class indeed. Why Springsteen has not yet written a song about them is beyond me!

Standard Scouser stance: Heart on sleeve, hand on head / mouth / eyes

But blue collar romanticism aside (and I’m actually referring to the red half of Merseyside), we shouldn’t ignore the real essence of being a protagonist in a Springsteen song: he’s always a loser and a bum, no matter how much you feel for him.

And that my friends, is Liverpool in a nutshell. You tend to feel for the poor chaps. Close to 17 years of absence on top of Britain’s league is a long time indeed. Some of the babies born when they won their last league title have grown up to be teenagers who unlike their parents prefer the modern appeals of the game: strategy, inventiveness, technical ability, panache, wizardry, and all that nonsense. Heck, many of them probably even support Chelsea. Or worse, Everton!

So you would please excuse me my dear Scouse friends if my genuine wish is for you to pull your bloody socks up and start the damn season properly next year. For goodness sakes go on and win the blessed thing so you can finally sing about something worthwhile.

Or don’t. I mean, what the hell would The Boss write about then?

The wild west beckons for David Beckham

2007-01-15T13:43:00.000+08:00

After seasonal items on his missus, metatarsal and misfortunes for England, David Beckham is once again making the headlines in the back pages of our daily reads. Now he’s off to America to tantalize the other side of the Atlantic with his celebrity, charisma and charm. Even Rocky is backing him to get back over the top once again in his new home.

The papers are already full of it. They’re all saying that Europe’s big loss can only be America’s big gain.

I say: Good riddance!

A lot of shit on that roof, and not just from the birds

I am part of many who really think that America offered the altogether best option for Beckham, a player who in spite of all his alleged talent and his so-called place in the pantheon of footballing greats is already in the darkening twilight of his career at the grand age of a mere 31 years.

Conquering the final frontier
When the great Pele, Franz Beckenbauer, Carlos Alberto and a few notable others joined the New York Cosmos in the late 70s, FIFA and the world projected a period of unprecedented growth of the sport’s popularity in America. Almost 30 years later, it is Africa and Asia that is recording the success many expected to see from America.

The hosting of the 1994 World Cup was mooted to be (yet another) watershed milestone; the eventual result was a very flat soufflé, both in terms of in-event audience participation and post-event momentum. Japan and South Korea on the other hand hosted a wildly successful World Cup in 2002, and all indications are that Africa’s turn in 2010 will record the same, if not a greater, level of success.

So where does America stand on the football world map, then? And importantly what will Beckham bring to the sport in a country that already ranks the world’s number one game a lowly seventh after baseball, American football (do they even use their feet?) basketball, tennis, golf and ice hockey?

Beckham is first and foremost a figurehead, and being a footballer comes a distant second. He is the proverbial catalyst of the materialistic world, symptomatic of the greed and decadence that has besieged the sport in the past two decades.

While he may not be responsible for much of it happening, if you accept the philosophy of supply and demand, in himself he embodies the reasons why there are more and more empty seats in football stadiums all over the world, and really – when you think of it – the very reason why children all over Britain wait till a few days before Christmas before asking daddy for a Manchester United or a Chelsea shirt (or indeed, a Real Madrid or a Barcelona shirt) under the tree on December 25th, depending on who is on top at that time.

Hero worship is not wrong in sport. Not when the they are about stalwarts like Diego Maradona, Pele or Zinedine Zidane. Or Muhammad Ali, Tiger Woods, Ayrton Senna, Michael Schumacher, Sachin Tendulkar, Boris Becker or Roger Federer - men who brought so much to their game.

But when players like David Beckham enjoy so much from the sport for the very little that they bring to it, there has got to be something very wrong.

Now, let not all of this detract from the fact that come May, we can all expect to see and hear more of football (the ‘real’ football) from America. That can't be bad for the sport. Already there is talk of Ronaldo and Luis Figo heading stateside, at the invitation of their former Real Madrid colleague, and a few more notable names may follow. The newspapers and Nokia Football Crazy are sure to afford America a few cursory column inches and footage respectively. For a while, we may even believe Beckham and America are on well on their way to making good on the previously unfulfilled promise

But with his 32nd birthday coming in May, Beckham's peak as a player is well behind him. Most would say his zenith was reached in the years between 1999 and 2002, with the crunch of Aldo Duscher's boot on his metatarsal in a Champions League tie between Manchester United and Deportivo La Coruna being the moment that stopped the Beckham juggernaut dead in its tracks.

The fact is Beckham was perhaps never all that. All he had was a very good right foot at a time when right feet weren’t very fashionable, and he brought a sense that something could seriously happen if his team won a free-kick at the edge of the box. He could not tackle, he could not dribble, he could not head, he was atrocious at penalties, he did absolutely nothing with his left foot, and to say that he was a captain would still be too kind; the man simply couldn’t lead a kid into a toy store with an open door and a handful of twenties!

A crying shame: He was very good at turning on the waterworks, though...

So you would please excuse me if I think the whole damned thing is a bit too farcical. Give it a year and let’s all see how big a joke it actually turns out to be.

For now, good luck America. Good luck David Beckham. God bless us all!

*******

Finally, for the benefit of any American who might read this: In Malaysia, and the rest of the civilized world, we refer to the sport as football, and rightly so. None of this soccer nonsense!

Pray tell me, anyway: Why on earth do you call it American Football, when all you’re doing it throwing the pigskin about? With your hands!

I don't want to jinx it, but...
With Liverpool hosting Chelsea at Anfield on Saturday, there is a sense at Old Trafford that this is a weekend that seriously offer my beloved Manchester United a chance of stretching their legs over the dreadful Chelsea, if (and it’s a big ‘if’) we get things right against Arsenal.

If Rafa Benitez needs help motivating his players, he need only show them the videos of the games against Arsenal, and the photographs of the Liverpool bench holding their heads in despair after that 6-3 drubbing. My bets are on Liverpool, if only because they definitely need this win, and also because I desperately need them to!

I’ve always been grudgingly impressed with Arsenal. On their day they can really play the opposition out of the game with a display of jaw-dropping finesse and flair.

That said, when Man Utd turn it on, they are simply irresistible, and we’ve seen that a number of times this season already. And the 85th minute goal and the resulting defeat at Old Trafford earlier this season will not be forgotten, for sure.

Arsenal vs. Manchester United
LIVE from the Emirates Stadium. Sunday, 21st January. 11:55pm.

This is the match of the week!

A fitting finish to a fabulous 2006

2006-12-24T02:13:00.000+08:00

There’s a story about Sir Alex Ferguson and the Christmas season. Managers always seem to moan about the heavy fixtures during the year end (I think 4 matches in 8 days was the average over the past few years), and Fergie is certainly no different in this respect.

What is nice to note is that over the past 20 years he’s put himself under the same restrictions he imposes on his squad, particularly so over the Yuletide season where gaiety and merry-making seem to be top-priority for so many citizens of the world, with the exception of Premiership players.

Rumor has it that Fergie espouses an even tighter rein on players during this season – a bit of turkey, perhaps an extra slice of pie, but absolutely no wine or alcohol of any sort. None for the players, and none for Fergie.

A trivial point perhaps, but yet further proof of why he’s perhaps the most successful football manager Britain has ever seen.

Add another new salute to the growing list of accolades if you wish: 2,000 goals over 20 seasons (Cristiano Ronaldo’s first recorded against Aston Villa a few hours ago); an average of 100 goals a season, and an altogether excellent record!

It's a good thing when he's smiling more often than he's frothing at the mouth

And what an excellent year 2006 has been, for football, the fans of the game, and of course for my beloved Manchester United. Here are some of my observations on the year:

Time of the Year
Certainly between June 9th and July 10th, 2006, during which Germany hosted an amazing World Cup. It certainly started with aplomb, peaked earlier than necessary, and somehow lost steam in the latter stages of the tournament. But what a time it was.

Hope of the Year
The splendid Zinedine Zidane, and the slow but sure awakening of Les Blues. Zidane and the other ‘venerables’ (Thuram, Makelele and Barthez) cajoled, prodded and pushed on an otherwise uninterested French team and their uninspired manager to the heights of glory, reaching the Finals in some style. That it was to be Zidane's final football match ever was even more remarkable.

Tragedy of the Year
That damned headbutt! Paradoxically, and against all reasoning and romanticism, Zidane’s last physical action on the green was to be the one that sent him packing in shame. It is sickeningly sad that the memory of Horacio Elizondo brandishing the red card, and of Zizou walking desolately to the dressing room will forever live on in infamy whenever this World Cup is recalled.

Au revoir, Zizou

Comedy of the Year
Sven Goran Erickson, David Beckham, the hoopla over Rooney’s metatarsal, WAGs, and the farce of the English hope in Germany. Too much has already been said about this. Way too much!

Underachievement of the Year
Jose Pekerman and his prodigious Argentine team. Their swashbuckling football, a delicate mixture of aristocracy and artistry, should have brought them further than their eventual exit. A quarterfinal loss, even on penalties, was no way for this brand of football to fade out.

Revelation of the Year
My beloved Manchester United. How wrong I was time and time again. And how glad I am to admit they’re certainly as good as they are painted to be.

Ronaldo has gotten with the programme. Vidic is the rock we so badly needed for so many seasons, and with Ferdinand, Heinze, Evra, Neville and van der Sar in the form that they’re in, Man Utd are certainly doing the business on the pitch.

It’s more heartening personally to see the likes of Scholes, Giggs and Solksjaer in the fine form that they’re in. The old guard is not facing as quickly as many thought they would.

If they keep it going, we’ve got a good second half of the season to look forward to.

Departure of the Year
There are a few here: Michael Schumacher after a glittering career in Formula 1, where he’s set almost every record worth noting. Zinedine Zidane’s infamous exit from a glorious career in football. And Andre Agassi’s farewell to tennis.

Saddest of all is the passing of the irrepressible Crocodile Hunter. Rest in peace, Steve – crikey, it’s been good!

Goal of the Year
I have to say, clearly and without question, this has to be Esteban Cambiasso’s goal vs. Serbia & Montenegro in the group stages. 24 passes, exquisite touches, patience, flair, invention, guile, team-work, and a perfect finish. It was the perfect goal, and one to put alongside Diego Maradona’s stunner against England in 1986. Have a drool at it once again, here.

"They'll be playing this in training manuals all over the world"

A few hours ago I would have been tempted to name Didier Drogba’s goal vs. Everton as the 2nd best strike of the year, but then I watched Paul Scholes stun the Villa Park crowd and those of us watching at home with that fine, orgasmic volley. This is my choice for number 2. It was so good, I had to mention it.

Joy of the Year
There are quite a few to choose from. The absence of Sven Goran Erickson in our sports pages. A month of great football, where I hardly had a sorrowful word from the missus, who as a bonus also joined in the fun and excitement for a few choice matches (bless her!). Fernando Alonso edging Schumacher to his second title, when it seemed - at a point - that the German just might nick that eighth title. A fit again Maradona enthusiastically cheering his country-men on in Germany.

But for me, it certainly has to be the sight of Manchester United sitting deservedly at the top of the Premiership on Christmas. Something achieved out of hard work, industry, and in the face of an increasingly tougher adversary.

Run, Ronnie... Run!

The magic of Christmas never fades after all, I suppose.

God bless Alex Ferguson. God bless Zinedine Zidane. God bless Manchester United. God bless us all.

Happy Christmas, everybody!

Incredible Hulkenberg!

2006-11-25T19:12:00.000+08:00

Updates have been dismal and pathetic, I know, but would you please put the blame down on the A1GP Malaysian race which I’m doing some work on, and which has certainly taken a chunk of my time, energy and grey-cells for the past two weeks.

The rain poured and poured on race day, and to say it was torrential would still almost be an understatement. But all considered it was a good weekend, and even Jeff Ooi and Lensa Malaysia enjoyed it (thanks for the great pics Jeff and Moriazy!)

But out of the puddle and mud emerged a winner who probably had total domination of the race weekend. Keep an eye out on barely legal Nico Hulkenberg, managed by Michael Schumacher's manager Willi Weber, and a certain star of the future.

A 19 year-old with not just incredible skill, but a chilling calm, a good head on his shoulders, and a look in his eye like faraway fires burning. Seeing him drive away from the rest of the field in the soaking wet tarmac of Sepang certainly brought back memories of his compatriot, the rainmeister.

Hulkenberg is certain to emerge as a star in the higher echelons of motor racing in years to come. It isn't a stretch to say he could go on to be Germany's worthy successor to their favourite son.

Alex Yoong finished a creditable seventh, in the same position he qualified in, but three places down from the position he started the race in, which was gained during the earlier sprint race.

Alex lost some battles, and won some battles, and with A1 Team Malaysia now third in the standings behind leaders Germany and Great Britain, the A1GP season is looking good indeed

Chelsea

But before all that, there is still yet another stern test for my beloved Manchester United, after the swing swung back in the UEFA Champions League unfortunate loss on Wednesday. Pick yourself up Louis Saha; we got business to attend to!

On the one hand, this yo-yoing of results would mean we I ought to be optimistic this weekend. On the other hand, however, we’re playing Chelsea. It should be a tight, cagey affair at Old Trafford and I for one wouldn't be suprised with an anti-climatic stalemate.

As long as it keeps us ahead of them, I’ll be happy for now.

Manchester United vs. Chelsea
LIVE from Old Trafford. Sunday, 26th November, 2006. 11:55pm.
Make no mistake about it: This is the match of the week.

The Manchester United swing swings both ways

2006-11-03T13:56:00.000+08:00

Updated! WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 2006
I don't know whether I ought to be ecstatic (that my views are indeed vindicated), or... er, not happy (about the 1-0 defeat to a club 43 bleeding positions below us).

Good... MU 4-0 Bolton
Not good... MU 0-1 FC Copenhagen
Good... MU 3-0 Portsmouth
Even better... Spurs 2-1 Chelsea
Way bad... MU 0-1 Southend

I am - yet again - choosing to be optimistic. The swing will swing back occasionally, and Man Utd were indeed due a crappy performance. Better it comes here than in the Premiership or the Champions League where it really matters I say.

Original post on FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 2006
Without trying to overstate things, it has been a very, very long time since we saw such precision, energy and purpose from my beloved Manchester United.

Make no mistake about it, all credit should rightly to the Red Devils that at the end of the 90, Bolton - an otherwise solid Premiership team - came away with exactly what they deserved from the game, which was precisely nothing!

AIG means "Ain't I Great, innit?"

Four days after that, however, it was same ol’-same ol’ once again from United against FC Copenhagen. On a night when we should have really wrapped up further participation in the Champions’ League, we instead rested some key players, and accordingly came away with exactly what we deserved from the game, which again, was precisely nothing.

Time then to recall age-old wisdom: the swing swings both ways!

However, in spite of my tendency for cynicism, I am choosing to see the glass as half-full. I expect that the team, and Fergie particularly, will have been given a right royal Danish slap on Wednesday, which in turn should adequately give them the much needed boost to bag nothing less than three points when we host a resurgent Pompeii at Old Trafford on Saturday.

Manchester United vs. Portsmouth
LIVE from Old Trafford. Saturday, 4th November. 11pm.
This is the match of the week.

*******

I am going to stick my neck out even further – and in doing so risk a mother of a jinx – by pointing out what I believe are the three factors contributing to United’s great start this season:

Christiano Ronaldo

Ronaldo was a real pain before the season started, but eventually got with the programme once he felt he wasn’t going anywhere.

I suspect he figured out that it is in his best interest to shut his mouth up instead of stirring problems with the club which would bring his image down deeper post WC2006, and his value together with it.

The last thing he wants is to be in the shoes of Ashley Cole. So for now, Ronaldo is going to behave. And so far, he’s behaving pretty well.

Nemanja Vidic
Rooney’s finishing against Bolton was clinical, and he scored three magnificent ‘striker goals’. And there are a number of players in the United team that are starting to really look the part.

But for me, one of the most encouraging components of late has been Nemanja Vidic. I have been heard to moan and groan over the past few years about our total mess of a central defense, but in Vidic we finally have a centreback of steel and intelligence. He is starting to really hook up well with Rio (who himself has got his act together). Its finally looking like we have found our Jaap Stam once again.

The power of S3
The 3 S’s are none other than Scholes, Saha and Solksjaer. All have been in fine form over the past weeks. Saha is starting to remind us of the striker we bought from Fulham some seasons ago, and credit to Fergie for his patience and loyalty to him, which the Frenchman is only too eager to repay.

Scholes has always been the class of the field. Understated, hardworking and averse to all the glitter and glamour that besiege modern British players, he is a typical Ferguson player (others include Keane, Robson, Bruce and Hughes) – solid, focused and interested in only doing his talking on the field.

But the class has to be our dear King Ole! Despite being injured for two years, he looks as classy as ever, and is perhaps the world’s best Super Sub. And he does it all with grace, humility and charm. No wonder he's called the smiling assassin.

Long may he live at Old Trafford!

The toppermost of the poppermost

2006-10-26T14:33:00.000+08:00

We have always associated being on top as something good. Being on top of the world is what an elated person might say. Being on top of a situation means being in control. Some would say the politics of the bedroom is about who is - and often who isn't - on top.

There was a famous conversation that The Beatles were reported to have had early in their career: John Lennon asked the other three, "Where are we going lads?"

They replied, "To the top, Johnny."
"How far on top?" asked John.
"To the toppermost of the poppermost," came the reply.

Arms, heads and spirits are starting to rise at Old Trafford

Three months ago I would have never thought my beloved Man Utd would be sitting on top of the table at this point of the season. As all Man Utd starts go, this season saw the Red Devils sprint off the blocks with a near perfect start. The draw against Reading and the loss against Arsenal notwithstanding, Man Utd certainly aren't doing as badly as I initially thought they would be.

The pre-season threw up all measure of doubt: I was cynical at first, then I started believing, then my faith faltered again... and again, then I suddenly started believing.

I'm starting to believe big time now. Watching them blow a hapless Liverpool out of the waters of Old Trafford - and make no mistake about it, Liverpool were thoroughly outclassed last Sunday - was certainly very, very easy on the eye.

If its true what they say that this Man Utd team are yet to hit their peak this season, then the fans have got much reason to be optimistic. The old boys like Scholes, Giggs, Solksjaer and Neville are remnants from seasons gone when this team know nothing but winning; it is deeply encouraging to see them lead the charge this year.

Rooney hasn't found his form yet, but despite this seeming 'crisis' people are scoring from almost every position. Ferdinand, Vidic, Fletcher, and even dear ol' Johnny O' Shea have pipped in with goals.

Contrast that with a Liverpool or Andrei Shevchenko, why don't you?

A Reebok pumping
Still, the true test for Premiership or Champions League aspirants awaits Man Utd this weekend: away to Bolton. Any team who wants to stand up and be counted must be able to come away from the Reebok with a result.

More than Old Trafford or Anfield, and certainly more than Stamford Bridge, it is a Bolton team at home which have scuppered the ambitions of probable league leaders before. They have been the bane / Archilles heel / banana skin of many a good team. This game will be no different.

Bolton Wanderers vs. Manchester United.

LIVE from the Reebok Stadium. Saturday, 28th October. 10pm. This is the match of the week.

An opportunity to focus

2006-10-19T19:05:00.000+08:00

...not for the sportsmen who will hold my attention for the next few days, but rather for myself, since I'm planning to devoting much of my time over the next week's holidays tuning in to enjoy some very exciting sporting occasions:

1. Man Utd v Liverpool - here's hoping the table topping winning streak continues, or failing that, a bloody good game for all of us to savour;

2. The F1 Brazilian GP - I have profound respect for Michael Schumacher, but I'm not looking forward to seeing him on the top step of the podium this weekend. He's certainly good enough for it though, mind you... but I'd rather see him go off quietly, than bask in the a glow of glory that he has frankly overstayed. Statistically the best driver the sport as seen; whether he is the greatest is certainly up to debate, and I certainly count Senna, Prost and Fangio above him.

Ta-ra Mikey... I'll try not to miss you

Enjoy the festival of lights, and eid-ul-fitr!

Amster-damn!

2006-10-05T17:53:00.000+08:00

Amsterdam, as expected, was a blast. It was a welcome difference watching a Champions League match over dinner, instead of waking up in the dead of the morning as we do over here.

The match in question was Liverpool v Galatasaray, and the Turkish and Greek community in Amsterdam turned up in full force to vent their worldly frustrations on the British team (any British team will do, I'm told). At 3-2 though, I thought Istanbul - Part Deux was on the cards. Sadly, Liverpool and Peter Crouch deeply disappointed us all that night.

There is obviously more to Amsterdam than the Red Light District, and the Noveau Hash Bars ("Hash is legal there, right?" "Yeah, it's legal, but it ain't a 100% legal..."). The cycling crowd, for example, is a sight to behold. It is estimated that 150,000 bicycles enter Amsterdam every day. Bank managers in their Italian suits cycle. Prada-wearing blondes off to their designer jobs cycle. Policemen, postmen and other Dutchmen cycle. Anyone heading within 5 miles of their destination cycle - daytime, or after sunset. It simply is the most efficient way of getting about town.

A common denominator of all things Amsterdam is that most everything is narrow - houses, streets, buildings, walkways, alleys... everything but their state of mind(which is evidently very broad). Buildings that look no more than 50 feet in breadth look like this on the inside:

Still, spending afternoons strolling parts of Amsterdam with its canals, churches, bicycles and windows aplenty was an experience indeed. The A1 GP race at Zandvoort was a real blast, with 85,000 Dutchmen in their orange garb adding a bit of tangy zest into the atmosphere. And to top it all off, we had invites to the swankiest club in town on one of the nights, to watch folks like Danni Minogue, Jay Kay of Jamiroquai, and Ruud Gullit shimmer by (with their 6'6" Dutch bodyguards).

So all in all, it was a 'Dam' nice trip. Of course, no post is complete without a cursory reference ti my beloved Manchester United, and boy, isn't it awesome to see this fella scoring again!

The life and times of the annoying Ashley Cole

2006-09-21T12:20:00.000+08:00

I don't know about you, but this Ashley Cole is seriously starting to get on my nerves. Someone once told told me I look very much like him - I disagree, of course - which naturally made me resent the bugger even more.

Add to that the fact that he played for Arsenal at the time of the said comment, which is really no big problem with me, except that I associate him with a period of swashbuckling, breath-taking football wizardry at Highbury that many of us Man Utd fans (and some lesser others) were grossly envious of, even of many of us don't have the heart to admit it.

Also, he is a total and utterly shameless brat. Just like almost that entire Arsenal team (above) were a bunch of first-rate, thorough-bred whiners, whingers, and w***ers (7 letters, rhymes with anchors).

The guys in charge of the Chelsea kit couldn't tell the difference between their Cs and the Hs

But what really gets my goat these days is the continuing footage and print real estate given to his so-called illustrious career, all neatly put together in a ridiculous periodical otherwise refered to as a 'biography'.

Somebody should tell these youngsters it's usually fit to release a biography having achieved a lifetime of success, and having accumulated a certain measure of wisdom, lessons and even regrets.

Not something people like Ashley Cole know anything about, certainly. As it is, I am highly doubtful that he might even know the real meaning of several words quoted so eloquently in the book in question, such as:

1. camaraderie
2. duplicitous
3. loyalty
4. the

Biographies for people like the great Matt Busby and Bill Shankly are warranted, welcomed and bring absolute joy to the downtrodden masses. So too stalwarts like Sirs Alex Ferguson and Bobby Robson.

Even stuff on other Brits like Neil Kinnock, Jeremy Clarkson, George Harrison, or Sting. Certainly for giants of the game like Roy Keane and Kenny Daglish. Even Ian Wright (both the former Gunner and the Discovery Travel & Adventure host - he's the bomb!). And I'm definitely on the look-out for those on retiring geniuses like Agassi, Schumacher and the late Steve Irwin @ Crocodile Hunter.

But Ashley Cole? WTF?

Your thoughts, please. Discuss.

Amster-DAMN!
I know recent updates on *Dish* *Bish* have been quite slow. Apologies, I've just been saddled with a truckload of work.

As it is, I'm off next week to Amsterdam, to attend the season-opening race of the A1 GP in the famous beach circuit of Zandvoort, that sadly took the life of the great Gilles Villenueve (Jacques' daddy). Coming along with me are two good guys from The Star and New Straits Times.

Look out for updates in 15 days.

A city, a punk, and a crazy guy

2006-09-05T17:51:00.000+08:00

The trip to London may have been short, but rewarding nonetheless. I have returned safely to my beloved Kuala Lumpur with:

One... A sudden surge of enthusiasm for the work that I do, knowing that there new opportunities opening up right at my doorstep, and the fact that I work with some really nice people;

Two... A new-found respect for Alex Yoong and team Malaysia at the A1 GP;

Three... Very fond memories of Silverstone. To be honest, it was a bit overwhelming standing on the same piece of tarmac where greats like Senna, Mansell, Hakkinen, Schumacher and some of the older buggers did the ‘bees-knees’ (business)... but I did try conceal my excitement, just so my colleagues from the other offices around the world wouldn’t see what a total nerd I was.

The trip reminded me that there are many beautiful places in the world, as much as there are beautiful people. The folks in London do a pretty good job of selling the metropolitan-ness of the city: Heathrow is manned by whites, blacks, browns, yellows and some other colours in between (please spare me the grief / stares / spankings on this non-PC comment).

There are ‘brothers’ there who sound like they’ve been around since the Victorian times, but who look like they’ve just stepped out after a good meal of home-cooked rice, curd and fish curry.

Right round the corner from our hotel was this eatery proudly advertising their ‘Penang and Oriental Cuisine’. Vans transporting frozen kebabs here. A tandoori outlet there. Everyone and their brother from every corner of the globe, all trying to make a buck or a million, riding the underground, Daily Mirror tucked under arm, looking uninterested / unshaven / like Bob Geldof.

I wish I could have spent a few more days there. Maybe soon.

*****

"The scoreboard says I have lost but what it doesn't say is what I have found... you have given me your shoulders to stand on to reach for my dreams. In my last 21 years I have found you and will take the memory of you for the rest of my life."

So goes Andre Agassi, in a retirement speech that much of Hollywood would envy.

I remember first watching Agassi win Wimbledon many years ago. Up until that point, the worst a tennis player looked like was Bjorn Borg, Boris Becker or Martina Navratilova (if not for her first name, I wouldn’t have guessed the gender; even now I’m not too sure).

Then comes this dude, looking like a blend between a junkie, a surfer, and a tomcat, and he totally blew the Tennis world away.

Blew. Them. Away.

Along the way, he helped himself to 8 Grand Slam titles, and still found a few minutes to bag a pin-up babe like Steffi Graf.

Ta-ta Andre, thanks for the memories.

*****

And it’s goodbye too to Steve Irwin @ Crocodile Hunter, who single-handedly made the Animal Planet channel watch-able for thousands of folks around the world.

I was chatting with an Aussie friend this morning, and he told me that most of Australia feels the same way the British people felt when they heard of Princess Di’s death, and pretty much the way the whole world felt when Mother Teresa passed on.

Because he was such an ‘out-there' person, with so much life and energy, it’s even a double blow that he won’t around anymore. Surreal. Bizarre. Even dream-like.

What I will remember most about him is that he was probably the sort of man most chldren will want for a dad – fearless, witty, up for it, and so generously endowed with a sense of ‘can-do’. His heart was exactly where he said it was, and that makes him pretty tall in my book.

Crickey, mate... It’s been really good, innit?

All right, luv? Isn't she just bee-yoo-tiful!

An unlikely hundred percent

2006-08-29T15:45:00.000+08:00

My goodness!

I would have never expected this from even my beloved Manchester United... but what the heck, you take what you can get, I guess. My instinct tells me never to gloat, because I know from years of experience - especially in recent years - that karma is a bitch that bites your bollocks bloody hard (fellow MU fans, please say this enthusiastically, emphasising the Bs - and mean it!).

So, we're a bit rough around the edges, but with a bit more growing up, and a little less f**king up, we might just see the end of the season with a bit more optimism than we did before we started it.

Good luck, fellas!

***

Allow me to welcome and old friend and fellow colleague who has just joined us in blog-o-land. Boys and girls, say hello to Senor Sreejit - a "tell-it-like-it-is", "keepin-it-real" kinda dude. And he writes a good tale.

Those who know Sreejit know what a top bloke this guy is, except for two very pertinent points:

1. His obsession with fitness, (and I believe that fitness is a serious impediment to a social life); and

2. He's a Spurs fan. Only 1 of 4 that I know of. In the world.

***

I'm off to London, England tomorrow. Some glam autosports project, which includes a day at the famous Silverstone, in the pits, paddock, observing a test, and a possibly elaborate attempt on my part to plant a kiss on the famous tarmac where the greats of the sports laid rubber.

If I should return with charred lips, don't ask why.

Will I kiss the hallowed tarmac?

There's your lot, Fergie

2006-08-18T17:23:00.000+08:00

Quite a bit you can do with Powerpoint, innit?

So then, are they good enough to keep pace with the likes of Chelsea, Liverpool and Arsenal, and keep the likes of Spurs, Newcastle and Blackburn well behind you?

Can you toss 'em up, week in-week out, and still drum up the right results? Can you sustain it the entire season through?

Are these boys capable of being motivated? Do you still have it in you to still motivate them?

I don't mean any disrespect, Sir Alex - but frankly you have become a victim of your own success. This whole club has become a victim of its own success. We the fans expect a lot, even those of us shirt-grabbers in the Far East who have never been through an Old Trafford turnstile...

The way I see it, you'll have fans who will chin up and say, "Thanks for the memories, Fergie... now please bugger off!", or fans (like myself) who are impatient as hell simply because we give a damn, and who are more likely to want to see you fix this problem, enjoy one last moment in the sun, they wish you well as you head off to yer wee village in Govan with yer grandchildren.

Many will be watching the game against Fulham, already resigned to the fact that we'll at least be challenging for the last Champions' League spot. Can we even make it there, Fergie? We would like to believe we could, and perhaps nick a cup or two somewhere.

But things are really not good as far as fan-fidence is concerned. And I do mean not good. There are too many questions Fergie. So you be sure you get the answers out on the field.

***

Previous musings on my beloved Manchester United:

The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away

A stump for the chumps of England

Saviour Mascherano

See, the emperor is naked

The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away

2006-08-11T13:19:00.000+08:00

This quick photoshop job means there surely will be new jerseys next season

With all the flak that Manchester United has had to take lately, surely, the last thing the club needs are its own fans turning up the volume on them.

But let's face it, this is a club in serious trouble. After a dozen or so years of glory (the treble, doubles, and thophies and titles aplenty), this is an institution coming apart at the seams.

Roy Keane is gone. Never to return. And we have replaced this legend with caricatures, at best (Neville as captian, Carrick in the midfield role).

Alex Ferguson will never be at his tactical and strategic best again. He is even polite to journalists these days, much less to Jose Mourinho.

David Gill is no fit top-hat for a club this big. We have become impotent on the transfer market, and unwittingly have let good players go for far less than we we're willing to pay for mediocre replacements. He belongs in a Malaysian GLC.

The team is is shambles. Rooney and Ronaldo. A questionable defence. A unsorted midfield. An almost toothless attack. No depth on the bench.

All that record season-ticket sales will only mean that the fans are expecting much of the club. An expectation that sadly doesn't look close to being met.

Instead, we gaze enviously at Chelsea, Liverpool, Arsenal, and even Spurs, as we dream about the stuff we could do if we could just pinch player from each of those clubs.

***

Yes, I know I am one fickle minded bugger. First I said the emperor was naked. Then I thought I saw his clothes. Then I realised it was a fig leaf after all.

I can now see all his wringkly bits. Ain't that a sight!

A stump for the chumps of England

2006-08-04T19:04:00.000+08:00

When I started this blog, I had an idea of I could talk extensively about football and sports in general, meet and greet some other like-minded bloggers and friends alike, and wax lyrical about my beloved Manchester United.

I wanted to keep this spot clean, clever, informative and discussive, and steer clear of trivial gossip and rants.

But things have not gone the way I thought it would, and if I may paraphrase my favourite cartoon character Popeye: "I has taken all I can takes, and I can't takes it no more!"

What the fuck is up at Old Trafford?
We have become impotent on the transfer market. All hope rekindled last week has fizzled out like the last hiss on a soggy twig in the furnace. Hiss 1. Hiss 2. And Hiss 3.

No Gatusso signing, in spite of more than a year's worth of romancing. No pride-swallowing Vieira. No Ballack. No Obi Mikel. Not even Kuszczak from West Bromwich bloody-Albion! And now certainly no Javier Mascherano.

Instead, we get this near-retirement geriatric.

Alex... WTF?

Saviour Mascherano

2006-07-28T09:32:00.000+08:00

It has been all busy, busy, busy these days, but in the midst of all the excitement, a colleague sent me an SMS yesterday, which simply said: “Dude, you got your wish. REUTERS just reported United’s bid for Mascherano.”

Oh boy! That was news indeed. Even the recent newsbreak on United's Michael Carrick signing doesn't top it, and all indications are that SAF believes Carrick alone may not suffice.

Make no mistake about it: midfield names do not get any bigger than Javier Mascherano these days, the pivot on which the entire Argentine team swiveled at this year’s World Cup, and whose named was making the rounds all over Europe even before he signed with Corinthians from River Plate barely a couple of seasons ago.

Maradona calls him a "monster of a player, destined for great things."

I rate JM very, very highly. Here is a defensive midfielder who seems to know his job very well, and sticks to it. He probably sleeps with a copy of The Midfielder’s Manual under his arm.

You hardly see JM away from the middle third of the field when his team is in possession. He has the solid discipline to orchestrate play from within the centre circle while his more adventurous colleagues foray upfront, but capably buckles down to defensive duties when possession is conceded. Efficiency with a capital E.

Word has it that the company that backed his signing to Corinthians for 10 million pounds simply have an agenda of maximising their return on investment. That is good news for United indeed.

Now that Ruud is out, and monies seem to be available from the potential sale of C. Ronaldo (plus the acquisition of Simao from Valencia), it is not just possible, but very probable.

With Alan Smith healing well (and I know this fler can really be fired up when he wants to be), with Scholes and Giggs back in some scintillating form, without distractions of national duties (ditto Smith), and with the potential signing of Michael Carrick on the cards, the midfield looks pretty decent and sorted.

But the point of this post – and my premature awakening from a self-induced stupor – is to celebrate the possibility of Javier Mascherano. Perhaps the emperor has nice clothes after all.

I so want this guy in the red shirt. Get me his signature, Alex!

Fresco fiasco #2

2006-07-24T11:58:00.000+08:00

Aisay, man...

I don't know how old this is (that's beside the point)... but after Fresco Fiasco #1, now this?

And we thought this was a club above such cheap theatrics?

Koppers, pray tell what the rest of us humble masses are to make of it.

See, the emperor is naked

2006-07-17T13:47:00.001+08:00

The truth – like it or not – is often the downfall of men.

We often try to make the truth an ally, and look for times when it reflects our sense of status and aspiration. We seek solace in the truth, as often as we try and seek shelter from it.

When it sides with us we spare no effort in ensuring our adversaries are made well aware of it. When it exposes us, we hang on to its trailing coat-tails for the slightest shade against the harsh sun.

The plain truth about Manchester United
... is that we’re in for a long season, perhaps even a very long decade of feeding on footballing scraps. A Worthington Cup here. A UEFA Cup qualification there. Perhaps one or two FA Cup semi-finals along the way. Klebersons, Djemba-Djembas and Dongs aplenty.

It’s all starting to look like 1986 to me vis-à-vis Liverpool. Curse the scouser bastards!

The truth is that - despite his best intentions - Sir Alex Ferguson, like an aging Tessio (re: The Godfather), simply doesn’t have the wit, cunning and venom he generously deployed in commanding the troops these past two decades. Time and success have eroded his enthusiasm. The loss of his authority inside the Old Trafford dressing room is inevitable.

The truth is that Carlos Queiroz simply isn’t Steve McLaren circa 1998/99, or Brian Kidd, circa whenever.

The truth is that try all he may, Gary Neville simply isn’t half the captain Roy Keane or the great Bryan Robson was. In fact, he isn’t even close to Steve Bruce.

The truth is that players like Rio Ferdinand, Wayne Rooney, Park Ji-Sung and Gabriel Heinze (for all his ability and single-minded determination) simply do not have the maturity or discipline to sustain a winning campaign in any competition, much less the increasingly competitive EPL.

The truth is that while there is no substitute for class, there certainly is little that the likes of Ryan Giggs, Paul Scholes and the venerable Ole-Gunnar Solksjaer could do to this end. Alan Smith, I won’t even mention.

The truth – as evident during the pre-season game against the Orlando Pirates - is that John O’Shea, Darren Fletcher, Patrice Evra and Keiran Richardson are at best, mid-table material.

And here’s the truth about Cristiano Ronaldo, Ruud van Nistelrooy and Liam Miller (Oi! There's only one Keano!).

And we all know hope simply isn’t truth. Not when it comes to Patrick Vieira, nor Genarro Gatusso, and probably not for a player like Javier Mascherano.

I am a Manchester United fan, and while I won’t be dishing out the hard-earned Ringgit for the new AIGgly strip, I will still be cheering them on from the comforts of my living room and the occasional pub this season.

But the truth is, they look like they’re headed back to where they were when I first started supporting them: 1986, mid-table rubbish!

Rub-*bish*

All-time greats: Remembering Enzo Francescoli

2006-07-14T19:28:00.000+08:00

If we regard Zinedine Zidane as the guru, then I wonder what most of us must think of the guru’s guru?

That man is Enzo Francescoli. A fler so spectacular, Zizou was not just influenced by his playing style, but even named his first son after him.

Francescoli was one of the best footballers to have ever graced the planet. More importantly, he helped us understand why Uruguay could once have been a footballing powerhouse.

If the Netherlands can be regarded as “the best country to never win the World Cup”, then I think I’d call Francescoli “the best player to never actually win anything we can recall without a quick reference to the Internet”.

It’s a long title, I know... but it fits him well.

Francescoli was the complete striker. He could get past a defender with maximum ease and minimal fuss. He was also an extremely accurate passer, and like all good strikers, could hold the ball on his own in the opposition’s half as his teammates set up shop for attack.

Twice he was voted South American Player of the Year, and such was his durability that he won those titles 11 years apart (in 1984 and 1995). An immensely likeable individual, he is still known as el principé (the prince) in River Plate, a moniker that stuck when the Olympic Marseille fans christened him le prince.

It is fair to say that anyone gifted with the guile of Pelé, the ruthless efficiency of Shearer, and the timing and positional sense of van Basten must have been one helluva striker indeed.

What I really respect about him is that he was a highly graceful individual, who aspired to give his best in whichever club he played for, and took enormous pride in what many modern players would consider mediocre accomplishments. In his own words...

"The truth is that I achieved much more than I ever thought I would when I turned professional. I played at two World Cup finals, and I'm proud to say that I gave my all every time I took to the field. I know I didn't play for clubs like Juventus or FC Barcelona, but it would be wrong of me to complain about that after everything football has given me."

I scoured through YouTube, and found this clip from a River Plate game:

Those are just three reasons why Enzo Francescoli is number 10 in my list of all-time great footballers.

The eternal paradox of Zinedine Zidane

2006-07-11T12:54:00.000+08:00

When we tuned in to watch the World Cup finals on Sunday, we expected to see the great Zinedine Zidane end his splendid career elevated to a god-like status, hovering perhaps just a step below Pelé and Maradona.

What we got instead was a crushing reminder of his red-blooded mortality. And it threw us down to a very hard earth.

For 110 minutes of scintillating football, Zidane continued to show us why we regard him so highly, even placing him in a select category above Cryuff, Beckenbauer, Best and his compatriot Platini.

But one nipple tweak and a (terrorist?) comment later, and he lets the footballing world, his fans, France, and mostly himself terribly down. It was perhaps one of the saddest images to ever be seen in a football game, that of a dejected Zizou trudging alone and desolate to the tunnel of Berlin’s Olympiastadion, walking past the polished trophy that millions expected him to hold aloft at precisely that point in the evening.

It was a devastating moment, and dealt a shockingly sick hammer-blow which many will never get over. What was worse was that nobody in the world – Zizou included – could hope to argue against the validity of that red card; on the contrary it would have been a travesty had he not been shown one.

We could expect and even foresee such a folly coming from the petulant likes of Rooney or Beckham, or even Luis Figo... but Zidane? Not in a match like this, surely?

It really wasn’t supposed to end like this.

But the red mist is like that: Sometimes when you’re caught in it, the mind calculates so many permutations of possible actions and resulting consequences, and in spite of the heightened awareness and a crippling sense of clarity, you conspire against your own will to take the worst course of action.

The red mist is not a loss of self-control. It is in spite of all self-control.

Either team could have won the final. Trezeguet’s missed penalty really wasn’t that bad, in fact it was probably better than most scored penalties in a shoot-out. The Italians were clinical in taking their spot kicks, but so were the French. Both teams had their chances to finish it off in normal and in extra time.

All the same, France could have lost even with Zidane on the pitch. Italy could have won even without Zidane on it. The speculations are endless. And might I add, pointless.

The point is that we will all perhaps never come to terms with why Zidane committed that heinous act, in full view of the world and the best cameras the Euro could buy, and on the sport’s biggest stage, in what was the last competitive match of his life.

We will never understand how a man could summon all the calm in the world to take the penalty that gave France the lead in Berlin’s smoldering cauldron – scoring with ruthless, cheeky efficiency – and within the same game bring a crushing end to his journey, with a foolishness of such epic proportions it even borders on being English.

Let nothing detract from a professional life well lived, though. Frenchmen wondering what they will tell their children of Zidane after this incident need only cast their eyes back for about 15 years to see how much he has contributed to French football. For all that and more, they should – as should all football fans – clap a collective “Merci, Zizou” at anytime he is remembered.

And it is thoroughly fitting that FIFA chose to look beyond that to offer him the 2nd best accolade of the tournament, that of being acclaimed its best player. Once again, judging on his Real Madrid form this last season, who on earth would have foreseen that?

Oh, Zizou... will we ever understand?

Dear Zizou

2006-07-07T14:27:00.000+08:00

By the time you read this, you probably would have written yourself into the annals of sporting immortality. Once again.

All because of a voice that spoke to you early one morning.

Whatever it was, we’re glad you made that decision to come back for one last voyage. We’ve all been truly blest by your second coming. In the years we’ve known you you’ve shown us that you are king at everything fundamental in the game: control and passing. That you are blessed with such sublime skill only underscores your rightful position at the top of football’s pantheon.

Our abiding memory of you will always be of that Sunday in Paris eight years ago, when you rose above a sea of green and gold to score those two magnificent goals. You were always described as a highly intelligent player, and on that day you really used your head. In more ways than one...

We remember learning of your prodigious genius while you were still at Cannes and Bordeaux, in those years when France conspired to stay in international football wilderness for so long. Those were strange days when your compatriotes seemingly preferred cooing over Alain Prost and David Ginola instead. We understand the case for Prost, but Ginola? Perhaps they like some measure of follicle strength in their idols. We never quite understood.

How ironic that your adversaries this Sunday turn out to be your hosts who first propelled you to greatness, and that Signor Lippi, your old mentor at Juventus, will be occupying the space in the opposite dugout. Surely it couldn’t have been that long ago that you both set about your business terrorizing Serie A and Europe with such élan and aplomb.

Still, these Italians are affable wallahs and we expect we’ll be seeing satellite images of either one of you giving the other a consoling cuddle when the curtains finally fall on a remarkable Germany 2006, whichever way the whistle blows.

The last occasion you faced the Italians in the World Cup resulted in a dour stalemate, and penalties, which France eventually won. How telling that it was indeed another penalty that got France into what must probably now be the biggest game of your life. We also imagine they haven’t actually forgotten the Euro 2002 episode two years on, when the carpet of victory was pulled from beneath their designer feet. It all makes for a great climax on Sunday.

And who could forget that magnificent goal at the Champions League final of 2002, perhaps the greatest memory of you in the white of Real Madrid. We all expected to see much more of the same in the weeks that followed in Japan and Korea; alas, that wasn’t to be – the seasons took its toll, and what ensued was so much less an embarrassment for France than it was an unkind blemish on your impeccable résumé.

Come Sunday, even that episode will serve as a mere turning point in your astonishing career.

Witnessing you defy the passage of time in those games against Spain, Brazil and Portugal these past two weeks reminded us once again just how great a player you are.

Seeing you put fire back in your teammates’ bellies, and lightning back in their veins, reminded us once again of how great a leader you are.

Watching you lead your country out for one last time in Berlin this Sunday will remind us once again exactly how great a man you are.

You are already immortal, Zizou... but that glint in your eye tells us that you may yet give us one more memory of your immense greatness.

God speed, and God bless you wherever you go after that.

Le seigneur, moi donnent juste un plus momente

TIME: Assessing Zizou's legacy

The four horsemen

2006-07-04T16:30:00.000+08:00

Ronaldo is gone. So is van Nistelrooy and Robben. And Torres, Raul, Fabregas and Villa.

While we're at it we might as well acknowledge Beckham's resignation from the captaincy (a good thing for English football). Oh, and he's gone too, along with Rooney.

Ronaldinho didn't bother showing up (was he there?). Riquelme did, and will be remembered.

Who's left? And importantly, who's gonna make an impact the next few days.

*dish* *bish* thinks it'll be these four (but what the fifi do I know anyway, right?):

Miroslav Klose
5 goals and he still looks likely to score some more. I say this because he also looks the most likely to get a penalty against the man-marking Italians. Apart from scoring, he can hold the ball up while waiting for the cavalry to arrive; ask Podolski who got two goals from this.

I expect the Italian I name below to almost blot Ballack out of the game (if MB's injury doesn't do this already); with Frings out, the German midfield is going to take some sorting out.

Klose could be the best chance they have of unlocking a chetti-like Italian defence. Germany need him more than ever.

Andrea Pirlo
I expect this game too will be a tight, cagey affair. The catalyst for an Italian victory will rest on the successful shackling of Michael Ballack.

I imagine Lippi is more likely to use Pirlo instead of Gennaro "The Snarl" Gattuso for this task, simply because at this stage you can't afford losing a player through suspensions, or worse, being reduced to 10 men; with Gattuso, that risk is always present.

Pirlo is a delicate enforcer against Gattuso's rugger-bugger, "take no prisoners" approach. And he can hit a sweet spot from set-plays too. If he's on song, the Italians will be singing.

Maniche
Much will be made about the return of Deco and Costinha, and of Figo and Christina Ronaldo.

But for sheer unspotted mayhem, enter Maniche. I imagine Scolari would use him to good effect simply because the French may be paying too much attention to the above players. Maniche makes dangerous runs, passes well, does the spade work in defence, and makes a menace of himself going forward.

He's got an experienced minder in Claude Makalele (who'll also have an exciting 90 minutes looking after the interests of Deco and Figo), but one slip and Maniche will be troubling the French back four.

Zidane
Whichever way the game against Portugal goes, the voices were right, and Zidane did well in reversing his retirement for one last swan song with les Blues.

Against Spain and Brazil he was a monster. Against Portugal we may yet see his best performance in the blue shirt.

It is plainly obvious that everyone in this French team wants to win this World Cup for Zizou as much as they want it for France and for themselves; they all look prepared to fight till the death, just like Diego and the 10 Argentines in '86.

And nobody in the footballing planet will begrudge this gentleman of the spotlight.

Plus, I like Zidane.

Oh woe is me... Argentina is gone!

2006-07-03T11:24:00.000+08:00

... and that doesn't even begin to explain this whole miserable weekend.

First the anxiety of seeing Riquelme and Crespo off for Cambiasso and Cruz, after the goalie injury which further compounded / limited the substitutions. Then the agony of the botched penalties. And the unfortunate melee.

Heartbreaking. I'm still reeling from the pain.

As expected, Italy came through against Ukraine. I believe I've not watched a full 90 minutes of any Ukraine game, and this was no different. 1-0 up at half-time, and I was off to bed. I was suprised to find out the Italians actually bothered scoring another two goals.

I don't really care to talk about the England game. Watched every minute of it, and strangely England played better with 10 men than they ever did with 11. Lampard couldn't have scored with 10 penalties. Rooney is getting on my nerves, and C. Ronaldo isn't that far behind him (and this coming from a MU fan, mind you).

Then came the Brazilian shocker (or French delight, depending on your p.o.v.). In all fairness, the French deserved a bigger victory against the hapless seleciao, who never looked likely to score / win.

And I couldn't be happier for Zidane, whom I rank very highly as a footballing legend. He single-handedly held siege on the Brazilian goal throughout the game; I put my money on them against Brazil in '98, and I'm doing so again this year.

Plus, Zidane makes me feel bloody good about my receding hairline.

Ouef! Don't you laugh at ze bald spot again, mon ami!

Sunday night rolls by and I can't sleep because I've gotten used to these late nights. The US Grand Prix is on, and to compound the injury further, it looks like the pariah flers at McLaren are fast becoming the Frank Lampard of Formula 1, with Montoya and Raikonnen making a mess of their season.

As if to round off my miserable weekend, this bloody fool up and wins it.

The pain. The pain...

Ésta es inmotalidad

2006-06-30T13:01:00.000+08:00

Maradona thinks about playing the long ball and goes "Naaa..."

"Harimau mati meninggalkan belang..."

As was the case with this small, stout senor. Exactly at this stage of the competition 20 years ago. And this was against a respectable, decent enough England team!

I'm sure as hell hoping for more of the same as we move into the quarter-finals tonight. If that is too much to ask for - and I think it probably is - then something really memorable would suffice.

20 years ago the world was at the tip of Maradona's toes; he receives the ball in his own half and with the poise of a ballet dancer (and seemingly without needing to move more than a few feet) he turns to lose two Englishmen (and a lethargic third giving chase), accelerates past another two, rounds off the on-rushing Peter Shilton, shrugs off a last-ditch chop-down by Terry Butcher and one man in the near post, and with the flick of a boot writes himself into the annals of football immortality.

Whose name do the Gods of football call this year?

So glad to be wrong

2006-06-28T14:02:00.000+08:00

Never was I happier about being wrong on so many counts.

I was wrong about France. One spoonful of humble pie.

I was wrong about Brazil and Ronaldo (bless you, fatso!). Two spoonfuls of humble pie.

I was wrong about Mexico going further than Portugal.

And about Holland and Marco van Basten. And about the Czech Republic. And about England playing Germany and losing (I wish I was right here, though).

But I'm very happy about the quarter-final line-ups. 6 world champions in the final 8 - although 1 of them have a team where nobody was born when they last won the blessed thing!

Oh, what the heck... leave the whole damn pie!

Fresco fiasco!

2006-06-26T18:59:00.000+08:00

Can you bloody believe this? I'm not even going to say a damn thing about it.

Please Portugal... please help us!

Will 'they' do it?

2006-06-24T16:35:00.000+08:00

The 48 group games have been played, and while I've enjoyed most of them - and a high number of them have been hugely entertaining - my all out favourite has got to be the Argentina v Serbia game, with that wonder team goal.

"They've done it!" screamed the commentator... and it was 'they' indeed. Cambiasso may have finished the move, but if ever there was a prize for the greatest ever team goal, and the most ingenious passing, it will have to go to this one.

Diego thanked his hombres for a good workout in Gelsenkirchen

A quick check from the SoccerNet stat files revealed that this match was incidentally the top rated match so far, at a score of 8.9. Croatia v Australia (2-2, at 8.7) and Czech Republic v Ghana (0-2, at 8.6) were close behind.

England v Paraguay was a yawning 45th, with 4.5.

Did you know...
Sanderos, Gerrard, Materrazi, Ljungberg, Koller and even le' lankster Crouch may have scored some of the more popular headed goals, but it is Ecuador's Carlos Tenorio who heads (sic) the list of headed goals by 2. Watch out England!

Its suprising that the two best rated goalkeepers are Korea's Lee Woon-Jae and Trinidad's Shaka Hislop, both with a joint rating of 8.1.

"Come on, mon... show me some lurve"

Ironically, both teams are not in the last 16. Of those teams who qualified only Buffon, van der Sar, Abbondanzieri, Ghana's Richard Kingston, Casilas and Dida rated above 7.0.

I can't argue with Deco, Juninho, Riquelme and Xabi Alonso in the top 5 spots as best rated players, but Man Utd / Korea's Park Ji-Sung at number 1 (8.4)???

Against this, Gerrard is joint 14th (with Fabregas, at 7.3), while tournament leader Ronaldinho is joint 20th (with Cambiasso, Ljungberg, Castillo, Frings and Aaron Lennon, all with 7.1)

Singapore's Shamsul Maidin is the best rated official at 7.5 (wow!), with Italian Roberto Rosetti in at 2nd with 7.0, and Mexican Armando Archundia, Australian Mark Alexander Shield, and Japan's Toru Kamikawa joint 3rd with 6.5.

The well coiffeured Marco Rodriguez from Mexico with his can of Brylcream comes in at 18th with 4.5.

Michael Corleone said "Keep your cards close, but keep your whistle closer"

I'm not going to bother with predictions for the 2nd round, as fellow football kaki Spiller and Daniel have already done a great job with theirs, and I really have little to add.

But I will leave you with the commentary from that brilliant Cambiasso goal, which you can also watch here.

Was the commentator stunned, or just in awe?

...(caught by) Maxi Rodriguez...

Maxi Rodriguez again. Here's Sorin.

Maxi Rodriguez to Sorin. To Mascherano. To Riquelme. Cambiasso. Mascherano.

Maxi Rodriguez forcing it wide. Here's Sorin. Cambiasso. This is where Argentina can be very patient indeed. I've watched their youth teams do this, just play the ball endlessly around the egde of the opponent's penalty area, then suddenly break with devastating consequences.

Saviola... Cambiasso... CAMBIASSO! They've done it! They've done it... and scored a fantastic goal!

How many passes did they put together there? You'll need a calculator.

The inter-passing here was just devastating.

Have you ever seen a better crafted goal at the World Cup finals. This will be shown in training manuals all around the world.

Stalemates are stale, mate

2006-06-22T15:09:00.000+08:00

I suppose Matt Belanda was right in his prediction of 0-0 for the last group C game between Argentina and Holland. Personally I thought it was a bit of a snoooozathon.

I guess we can't always expect things to go like this (below), but let's look at it again, anyway:

Beautiful, innit?

It was great seeing Diego lead the cheers for his boys in those Argentina games. This piece of behaviour on the German autobahn however, was puzzling.

Hey Diego, apa bikin daa...?

In Germany, you aren't allowed to do this when driving

Sky-blue, or Oranje?

2006-06-19T15:58:00.000+08:00

*DISH* *BISH* hosted some crazy hombres (including brother-in-law Dev, who is an unfortunate England fan... albeit a fair, knowledgeable one) over for dinner and two mega Group C matches last Friday.

Also in attendance was my friend and ever patriotic Dutchman Matt Belanda, who enjoyed the Singapore mee and satay, but didn't look quite so amused with Argentina's 6-0 (read it again: SIX - NIL) mauling of Serbia and Montenegro, and was visibly twitching as almost the entire Ivorian team held siege on the Dutch goal for almost the entire 2nd half of that game.

Somebody should have told these dudes where the TV was

Matt guest-blogs this entry with Keropok, in anticipation of that final game which decides the honours for Group C on 21st June (3am, 22nd June in Malaysia):

Keropok predicts 2-0 for Argentina
17 of the 23 players in the squad are graduates from the youth side, helmed by current manager Jose Pekerman. They've played together for a number of years, and all instruments in the orchestra know their exact cue.

Speak nothing yet of the team oozing talent from every pore. Even goalgetters Crespo and Saviola's place in the starting line-up are under threat.

The defence looks rock-solid, and not once did they ever look like conceding a goal. Even goalkeeper Abbondanzieri, touted as a Barthez-like fumbler, looks confident and decisive between the sticks. With names like Ayala, Heinze, Sorin and Burdisso in front of him, which goalkeeper wouldn't?

There is so, so much talent in attack that the likes of Messi and Tevez – blindingly brilliant footballers in their own right – are being used as 'impact players', behind Saviola and Crespo, who by themselves are tearing lesser defenses apart.

Riquelme's performance was impeccable. So many times against the Serbians, and even the Ivorians in game 1, he was able to evade 3 or 4 opposition players without seeming to move more than a few feet. His passes opened up acres of space for his colleagues on so many occasions.

The Serbians threw a number of players to crowd him out, and all it did what free up space for others like Maxi Rodriguez and Cambiasso to channel supply to the forward line. The no-nonsense Mascherano is growing in stature as he thwarted Serbian attack even before they could trouble the defense behind him. He is the pivot in this fully-functional Argentine team, and seems to know the job of a defensive midfielder extremely well.

The Dutch seemed to have a 'hole' in their team play; their defense, attack and the wings looks to be working well, but there is nobody in the centre of the park to win key battles and co-ordinate key attacking moves. It is here that the battle could be lost to the Argentines.

The French team in '86 was perhaps the last time we saw such great passing at this stage. Platini, Tigana, Fernandez and Giresse were perfect passers of the ball, and a number of the French goals from that tournament came from about a dozen moves being strung together before the ball eventually bulged the net.

Cambiasso's goal (the 2nd one against the Serbians) was a throwback to those days. Their other goals were great too, and they're only going to keep getting better and better.

Matt predicts a 1-1 draw
Ever since the '74 and '78 finals with the likes of Cruijff and Neeskens, the Dutch have always faced the biggest enemy in themselves by quarreling during big tournaments and so far no one manager has been able to win the respect of the players.

When you put together big egos from clubs such as Chelsea, ManUtd, Arsenal, PSV, Feyenoord, Ajax and Barcelona only a legend like Cruijff or Marco van Basten would be able to gain the respect of the players, and that's exactly what we got!

The Oranje haven't been extremely convincing in the first two matches against Serbia and Ivory Coast, but did the job. During their last match the Oranje team actually set a new world record of not conceding a goal for over 950 minutes of FIFA world cup match football. Coincidentally, van Basten is the first coach ever to lead the Dutch through World Cup qualification without a single defeat.

For those who claim that the Dutch are the best team never to have won the World Cup, the above seems like a good recipe for success.

The Totaal Voetbal principle lives in all Dutch players, coming from a country with the highest number of registered football players and clubs per capita and four of their coaches leading different nations in this world cup. If you ask me, it's all down to the coach's decisions on who should play and who should stay on the bench.

Dirk Kuyt, Landzaat and Babel are all waiting for action, van Nistelrooij found the net and regained his confidence, Robben and van Persie are on the top of their games and van der Sar has yet to put his stamp on this tournament.

The team has survived the first two matches and has gotten used to each other and there’s plenty of talent on the bench ready for action. My prediction is that they will draw against the Argentines as they're two good teams and are not really playing for survival.

I do however predict this: Holland will beat Argentina in the semis 2-1, as they did in the q-finals in '98!

P/S: STOP PRESS! Upon proper scrutiny and callout from fellow blogger Spiller (thanks dude) it appears that if both Argentina and Holland win their respective elimination games, they would meet in the finals, and not in the semis, as said here.

Please Sir... please use some lube

2006-06-16T03:06:00.000+08:00

I’m a huge Pink Floyd fan. And they have a very apt piece of lyric from their legendary Dark Side Of The Moon album, which a journalist covering the game in Nuremburg could perhaps use for his review of England’s latest game:

“Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way”

How true. How true.

Stevie always enjoyed a good tickle from tall men

So, England have had a great 10 minutes in the World Cup, two Englishmen have joined Paraguay’s Gamarra on the scorer sheet, and after Germany and Ecuador, they’re the 3rd team to check into the round of 16.

But for 80 minutes, they had very little to show for it. 80 minutes of quiet desperation. The English way.

Now, to be fair to England, the vultures had been circling for quite a while, and conditions were set for detractors to swoop down to feed on the entrails of the forlorn Owen, the hapless Eriksson, the unfortunate Lampard (after his misses), and the team in general.

Surprisingly, though, a quick check on the BBC boards an hour after the game showed many English fans themselves (let’s forget counting the ‘sheep’ for a minute) were rightly uncharitable to the team:

"And England exhales... Have a feeling that that performance won't have inspired total confidence in England supporters?"

And again:

"Unimpressed with what was supposed to be a World Cup favorite. They absolutely struggled to beat freakin' Trinidad. Trinidad!

I would be very afraid of getting humiliated in the next round."

And yet again:

"Boring, boring, boring.

They will be defeated by Germany, Holland, Italy, Spain, Argentina, Ivory Coast, the Czechs. No chance whatsoever! Even Equador will be quite a hurdle."

I have been a big critic of Eriksson, Beckham and a number of other players in this team. But what’s fair is fair, and the substitutions were absolutely right, and very impressive.

Lennon and Downing provided pace and incision on the flanks, and while Rooney didn’t exactly Popeye his way to goal, his presence did spur the other players on.

But the commentator did say there was some sort of ‘conference’ going on at the England bench prior the substitutions, and my gut tells me the other English wallahs pressured Eriksson to making those changes; for a minute, I thought we’d see the entry of Owen Hargreaves!

But was it Sven who made those changes? Unlikely, if you ask me...

Well, here’s looking to the rest of the media reports to come through in the next few hours / days. Surely, they now predict a blazing trail of glory to the finals in Berlin and beyond. Surely now England will burn a path through to ultimate victory. Surely “it’s coming home!”

Let the masturbation begin!

Argies are barging, Czechs are bouncing, Italians are loafing... GAME ON!

2006-06-14T13:57:00.000+08:00

I would love to have added the words “Brazilians are waxing” to the above title... but after yesterday’s performance against an inspired Croatia (who, if they took their chances well, could have snatched a point), I think they're vulnerable in a few spots. Some in-grown hairs, if you follow the analogy...

In fact, the words “if they took their chances well...” may just turn out to be the most repeated phrase at this World Cup.

But after 5 days and 14 matches (I'm not going to factor in the chances of the Group H teams – sorry Spain and Ukraine) here is how I see the main players in this tournament:

The CONTENDERS

1. Argentina got their opening match jitters out of the way, and are looking pretty rock-solid. They need to work out how they would use Messi, Tevez and Aimar in the mix of an otherwise unyielding first 11. The thing about having too many good cooks is that they could seriously f*** up the soup. Pekerman needs to find the sweet spot. 8/10

2. The Czech Republic are looking firm all round, and I think displayed the best form of all teams in their opening game. I couldn't find anywhere they could have done better. Nedved seemed to grow as the game wore on, and Rosicky could just go on to wallop in a few more in this tournament. With Peter Cech between the sticks, the opposition will find them difficult to break down. 8/10

3. Italy, if they play things well, could go all the way to the last four, at the very least. Nesta and Cannavaro look very miserly in defense, and hardly gave anything away to the Ghanaians. Luca Toni, Pirlo, and even the volatile Totti have a menace about them. However, they are susceptible to attacks from the flanks, and don't really look like they have someone who could boss a midfield (so necessary to win the World Cup with a midfield lynchpin). 7/10

4. Germany would feel they have underperformed if they don't at least reach the last 4. Center-backs Metzelder and Mertesacker notwithstanding, the team look inspired everywhere else, but they must reinforce the center of defense. I think we'd see this problem sorted with Ballack in against Poland... we'll see. Otherwise, a solid bet for the semi-finals at least. 7/10

5. Brazil seriously need to fix the left of defense if they wish to avoid any set-backs. I don't know how you could put cover for a fullback, but Roberto Carlos isn't exactly the most defensive minded, and Juan doesn't look like he could thwart a quick attack. Lucio is also error prone, and Dida too often flaps at crosses.

Their attack looks potent, and I'm sure will grow in fluency (unlike the game against Croatia). No need to say anything more here. 7/10

N.B.: Cafu, however, is not 36! He simply cannot be 36. How can a man who defends so impeccably and links up to the attack so effortlessly – all through the 90 mins – be 36? Somebody tell me this is not true.

The HOPEFULS
5. Mexico look very exciting. I like Marquez and his work for Barcelona and in the Mexican team make him a big asset. The team hustles their opponents no end and close them down quickly when not in possession. Pardon the non-PC-correctness, but they're almost like street urchins who know which pocket to pick, and pick it quick they do. Inconvenient to play against, they could go far. 6.5/10

6. Holland seem to be flying on one wing – the left with Robben. Van Persie will probably be better suited in a more central role, with Kuyt managing the right. MVB needs to ditch van Nistelrooy, or at least bench him and keep him hungry. Midfield sorely needs a fulcrum (same problem with Italians). 6/10

7. Croatia were unlucky not to get anything in their first game. Against a team like Brazil that's saying a lot indeed. But they must put away their chances; at least 4 very clear chances were not taken. They're really quick on the break though, which could punish slower defenses. 6/10

The “FORGET-ABOUT-ITs”
8. France don't look like they're interested. Failing that, they don't look like they're up to it. There was no link between defense and attack, and it was almost as if there were two teams out there. I disagree with Shebby Singh – you can play two defensive midfielders like Makalele and Viera (see Ze Roberto and Emerson) and still create a flowing structure, but Les Blues flopped. Early exit, monsieurs... 4/10

9. Portugal's biggest asset is Luis Felipe Scolari, and he can't play for them. Because he's Brazilian. And too old. And he's the manager.

If Deco can't fix the Portuguese' lack of zing in their overall game when he comes on next, it's an early flight back to Lisbon, hombres. I don't see them pipping Mexico to top spot, and I can't see them coping with either Holland or Argentina in the round of 16, if they make it. 3/10

The "ARE YOU JOKINGs?"
10. England. Sigh.

Owen Hargreaves. Sven Goran Erickson. Michael Owen. Stewart Downing.

'Nuff said. Not even going to bother rating them.

Yes, I said it here!

2006-06-12T13:03:00.000+08:00

Since this is primarily a football blog, I thought I ought to post something from the World Cup feast of the past few days, before I kena gasak by more folks.

I thoroughly enjoyed the opening match and Germany looked very good against an equally impressive Costa Rica. With the Ecuadorians beating Poland, this group is still somewhat open, but only in a sense that the other three will be likely be fighting for the 2nd spot.

Germany shouldn't have a worry in the remaining two matches, central defenders notwithstanding. And they didn't even have Ballack on!

I will save my *dish* *bish* on England for later. But let me say that Trinidad & Tobago look to have bigger ambitions – and capabilities – in Germany than the English press seem to make of them. A slip up on Friday morning and Owen, Beckham et al may just find themselves doing the early shopping in Frankfurt.

Sweden need to buck up, and soon. Ibrahimovic seemed to be fighting a lone battle out front, as Larsson inexplicably had a poor game. Ljungberg kept going for personal glory with 90% of the chances that came his way. Either that or he thought his team-mates weren't good enough. Arsenal-ish show-boating no doubt. And then some...

My pick Argentina had a solid performance all round, as I thought they would, and Pekermen fielded the right team, as I thought he would. They still have plenty on the bench. Not even a sniff (yet!) of Messi and Tevez. Aimar only had about 3 minutes. Many capable flers on the bench, and they’re all pretty hungry. Crespo and Saviola were incisive in attack. Riquelme, Mascherano and Heinze flexed their muscles big-time. It's all going to plan, and looking bloody good.

Didier enjoyed the zero-gravity ride in Hamburg

I caught the Holland v S&M game with a Dutch friend (thanks Matt Belanda!) and even he thought the boys in Orange seriously need to step up their game (and Matt Belanda is a big-time Holland sympathizer, even when times are not too good for them). Good personnel all round bar the hapless van Nistelrooy, and Robben was dynamite, but they seriously lack a mid-field lynchpin. Could Clarence Seedorf have done it?

The Mexicans were very, very good against Iran (another surprisingly sound performance, btw), hustling, bustling, and totally bossing the 2nd half. Portugal need to improve beyond their 1-0 victory against Angola if they're looking to pip these hombres to top spot in Group C.

Now to England. What the *#&@ is Ericsson's problem? I seriously think this Swede is out to sabotage England's plans – what else could you make of his team selection and substitutions? Is this man as stupid as he seems?

And his ideas of Rooney "having a part in the T&T game" is having a profoundly worrying effect on Man Utd fans. Better watch it Sven... or we’ll be remembering Nuremburg for something else.

I said it here that his preference for automatic starters like Beckham and Owen were going to be England's undoing, and that capitulation looks all the more impending. Expect it to happen against Sweden.

I also said his not fielding a holding midfielder was going to stretch Lampard and Gerrard. Both wilted in the German heat as they spread themselves too thin.

And what the fifi is he thinking with Owen Hargreaves???

Plus England do not look to have the same depth of resources on the bench as say Argentina, Brazil, Germany or even Holland.

I have never been an England fan, but you can't help but feel that for a team boasting the talents of Lampard, Gerrard, Joe Cole, Terry, Lennon and Carrick (both unused – tsk tsk), Rooney (soon to be used – tsk tsk) and friends, they ought to be doing better.

As it is, they would have been troubled against a team slightly better than Paraguay. And Owen was the only player thus far to have a worse game than van Nistelrooy.

It's a laugh, amigos! Remember: look to that 2nd round exit against Germany. You read it here first.

Prrreeeeeet!

2006-06-09T18:33:00.000+08:00

It's here! 5-odd hours and counting.

'02 in Japan and Korea was disappointing by World Cup standards; not as good as France '98, but certainly way better than USA '04.

Mexico '86 shall still be the standard, for me. It was my first World Cup, and watching reruns on ASTRO just confirmed how awesome it was, and how many truly great players graced that scene: Platini, Linekar, Butragueno, Scifo, Burruchaga, Francescoli, Barnes, Careca, Tigana, Rummenigge, (a bit of) Zico, Olsen, Paz, Laudrup, Matthaus, etc.

And of course that great, great man, Diego Maradona (and those hebat goals!).

2002 - for all people say about it - was a showpiece of Ronaldo making up for '98, and the promise of the magical Ronaldinho.

And to think that it showed that Nicky Butt was a highly under-rated player (would you believe it now?). Besides that, no truly memorable moments whatsoever.

What. So. Ever.

There's so much promise this time round. Bring on 2006.

P.S. I don't wanna say nothin', but just you watch out for the Czech Republic. The not-so-surprising surprise package of 2006?

That's amore!

2006-06-07T15:23:00.000+08:00

My heart is racing. My palms are sweaty. I have a strange craving for beer nuts.

When I turn on the television, I barely resist the temptation to switch to the ASTRO World Cup channels, where they're showing past qualifying matches and two-hour-long recaps on World Cups past.

My wife is starting to get very annoyed. I keep telling her "It's only once in four years, sweetie," but deep down I know I'm going to have to come up with something better.

I mean, what do I say when the annual football seasons commence in late August!

I said here that I still remember the day I sat in front of television one night /early morning in 1986, a starry-eyed 10-year-old, mouth agape, eyes as wide as saucers, when Argentina trounced (the then) West Germany 3-2 to lift the trophy for the 2nd time. I fell in love with football that day.

Well, it's here once again. And I'm looking forward to just 5 things:

1. One or two ridiculously glorious goals
Think Maradona vs England in 1986.
Think Baggio vs Bulgaria in 1994.
Think Cameroon's Roger Milla vs Columbia in 1990.

Think goals so obscene we head to bed dreaming of it!

2. Not-as-many stupid linesman decisions
World Cup's have been destroyed when overzealous 'assistant referees' reacted rashly to borderline off-sides fouls or off-the-ball sequences.

I know there will always be complaints, but all the people can't be wrong all the time!

3. Out with unsportsman-like behaviour
I have always been intrigued how the ruffians who play rugby often conduct themselves with more decorum that the wallahs without mouth guards, entrusted with a world audience of close to 1 billion.

No goading the referee to producing cards.
No play-acting.
No cynical, career-threatening fouls.
And no racism!

4. Some (but not too many) over-the-top goal celebrations
Remember Brian Laudrup and his "sleeping Buddha"? Or Bebeto and his "cradle rock"? Or the exhuberant Cameroon flers in 1990?

5. The music
The school bands from England. The samba drums and timbales from Brazil. The sombrero-donned mariachi trumpeters from the Latin countries. Turn volume up for maximum enjoyment!

They're all in Germany, and rearing to go.

It's here once again, baby... Blow that whistle. Let's get on with it!

Ten reasons why Holland will do well in Germany

2006-06-05T16:55:00.000+08:00

10. Marco van Basten
This man has no respect for reputations – which is really a good thing when it comes to the Dutch national team. So out go the trouble-makers – Makaay, Kluivert and that kecoh Davids.

Seedorf, while not viewed as a classic trouble-maker, was simply not good enough; he may have grown comfortable and accustomed to his role at AC Milan, but was clearly out of rhytym with MVB’s management and football style, and the mix of the team in general.

9. Dirk Kuyt
It appears that the only blondes with brains are those in orange jerseys!

Kuyt has a pure footballing brain, and every decision he makes on the field seems to make very clear sense. He is blessed with an uncanny sense of knowing the quickest route to goal, and the speed and ability to get there quickly.

Passing? Tick.
Positioning? Tick. Tick.
Pace? Tick.
Power. Tick. Tick. Tick.

If he’s headed to Liverpool the coming EPL season, it will be a super buy indeed. Perhaps Chelsea with their "retirement home" squad of Shevchenko, Ballack and co aren’t so frightening after all.

8. A hungry Ruud van Nistelrooy
If there is a man with more to prove than van Basten, it is Ruud.

Disposed with unease from Old Trafford – perhaps permanently – he knows more than anyone else on the team how little reputation counts for in this squad. There are eager, capable and available options on the bench, and if he doesn’t put away his chances well, Ruud could end up with little time on the field in Germany.

7. Marco van Basten
If there is a man with more to prove than van Nistelrooy, it is Marco.

I was surprised to find out from the Soccernet fact files that he has never won a World Cup match; his only tournament was the disappointing Italia ’90, which ended poorly for the Dutch. Three draws in the group stages, and a 2nd round defeat to West Germany means that van Basten will be eager as hell to rack up the wins and move his team into the deeper rounds of the tournament.

6. World Cup 2002
They were not in JPN / KOR, and the few Dutch wallahs I know tell me that really sucked. Big time!

There is a phrase about absence, and the heart becoming fonder, or something like that... I can’t remember it now...

5. Form, patience
Notwithstanding the bruiser of a not-so-friendly friendly match against Australia the past weekend, this squad is hitting a really rich vein of form.

I saw them play Mexico a week ago, and despite going down 1-0 at half-time, they came back with a zing-zang-zonger, and packed the Mexican gringos off with relative ease with two quick goals in the 2nd half.

4. Team morale
Observers have commented that they have never seen morale in the Dutch camp this high. It was a big handicap in the past, for Dutch teams boasting far more big names than this one.

And it was encouraging that when MVB assumed the role he made morale a big mandate. And top-o-the-props to him, he’s put his money where his mouth is.

MVB says “We've abandoned the petty fines for coming late or leaving mobiles on, as this is not the kind of money that will hurt any modern player. As a punishment he now has to tell a joke in front of the group. That works very well. No one has sinned so far.”

3. Da playa’s
Robben, van Persie, Sneijder, Ooijder, van Bommel, Cocu, Kromkamp are only some of the delectable talents expected to hit the field against Serbia & Montenegro come June 11th.

Holland also have depth of talent on the bench, with the likes of Heitinga, Hasselink, and the exuberant Ryan Babel (who scored the cool winner against Mexico).

Babel looks to be a real firecracker, and along with the rest of the Ajax team members in this squad, are sure to bring his club closer to the glory days they used to enjoy in the early ‘90s.

He may be young, and may look too much like the rascal Patrick Kluivert for my liking, but I think MVB has got a great ace up his sleeve for whenever he needs a cracker-jack substitute. Expect him to come in handy in the tiring extra time stages in the deep end of the tournament. Remember, you read it here first.

Er... Theo who?

2. Ruud Gullit
He is not a part of this squad.

As much as I liked watching him play during his misai days, the further away Gullit is from the Dutch team, the better for all involved.

1. Marco van Basten
When asked by the Dutch FA who should take over from Dick Advocaat after Euro 2004, the legendary Johan Cruyff immediately mentioned “van Basten”.

Like Gullit, Rijkaard and Koeman (Ronald, not Erwin), MVB was part of the prodigious Dutch team that was expected to win all before them. That they only walked away with the European Cup in 1988 was a disappointment to not only the Dutch people, but football fans throughout.

MVB knows that he has a great squad going for him this year, and having assembled a squad of solid, able performers, he also looks to have built an astute, but thoroughly workable team strategy.

Like group-mates Argentina, the big thing going for them is the absence of expectation. Released from the pressure that continued success demands, this Dutch team have been producing the form that could well take them through to the semi-finals, at the very least. Assuming they both win their 2nd round matches, both these teams could end up meeting again at this point.

What a match that will be!

This Lennon fler is good

2006-06-02T12:31:00.000+08:00

I know much has been said about England’s Owen Hargreaves and how he is moving the earth for Bayern Munich, how he is a big asset to England, yada yada yada...

I watched him play in England’s team B embarrassment-of-a-match against Belarus, and his performance confirmed my prior rating of him: He is rubbish!

RUB. *BISH*

But, oh boy... did you see Aaron Lennon in action? The Belarus flers were putting 4 or 5 different guys on him, and none of them could contain this dude. Plenty positives for Spurs. Some positives for England.

Don’t bet on SGE playing him, though. God forbid he change anything from his ‘trusted’ 4-4-2!!!

That small senor did it in 1986

2006-06-01T11:11:00.000+08:00

I became a permanent football fan somewhere around the age of 10, when one night I watched a small Argentinian score a goal with his hand, then out-run 5 English players - including the goalkeeper - to score the most outrageous goal in football history (yes, that was my first World Cup match).

A few days later that same man out-foxed 6 Belgians to score another mega goal, and take his team into the finals. The following Sunday I stayed up to watch that small man single-handedly win Mexico '86 for his team.

I think this year could just be Argentina’s time once again (don’t remind me of 2002); please senors, allow me to explain why Argentina will be this year’s very, very dark horse.

The big thing going for Pekermen’s boys this time round is mainly the absence of expectation. Former manager Marcelo Bielsa’s announcement in 2002 that the AFA ought to clear room for the trophy in their cabinet has proven itself a grave error and put incredible, unnecessary pressure on an otherwise capable team; it eventually led to their premature ejaculation from JPN/ KOR.

Then there is this formidable team. Crespo, Messi, Tevez and Julio Cruz make a cunning and thoroughly dangerous strike-force.

Directing the orchestra from just behind the front two is the thoroughly influential Riquelme, who – if he’s really in the mood – can turn a match on with the flick of a switch. Pekerman is likely to also play Javier Mascherano – a future MU player? – with Riquelme, likely in the “Makalele role”.

Gabriel Heinze is back! HEINZZZ.....ZAY!!! Even his name sounds something like “Thou shall not pass!”This time he is likely to be played as center-back, with full-backs Sorin and Deportivo’s Coloccini – two dudes never shy of foraying forward.

Team apart, Pekerman is a wily tactician. He can change the shape of the team within minutes, to accommodate the need of the hour. He helmed the team that won the Youth World Cup in Malaysia in 1997, from which a number of talents form this senior team.

A tough group C sees them as top seed with Serbia & Montenegro, Ivory Coast and Holland – another group of death following 2002. I rate the underrated Holland to go through with Argentina, and with both these teams playing each other last, S&M and IC could well be playing their own match to see who comes in 3rd in the group, instead of fighting for a place in the last 16.

The 2nd round, however could be a bit trickier, with either Mexico or Portugal waiting in the wings, as winners / runners-up of group B. Both teams would prove a tough challenge for the Argentineans, and the neutrals would hope for a Portugal vs Argentina fixture, pitting Scolari – another sly dude – against the astute Pekerman.

Should Argentina sail through this, the momentum will be prefect for the juggernaut to plough through the q-finals, probably facing Italy, Germany, or likely even Brazil. I’m strangely encouraged by this scary prospect because:

1. Argentina is often likely to self-destruct against unfancied teams, so I would be wary if they met Croatia, Ghana, Guus Hiddink's Australia, or even the USA (coming off the win against England, even Dennis Bergkemp and Holland was the underdog in their 1998 q-final face off). The bigger teams, however, bring out the best in them ;

2. In the qualifying rounds, Argentina were second to only Brazil, and that too on goal difference. In their game in Buenos Aires, they beat the Brazilians 3-1, and convincingly too;

3. A team that wins the World Cup must beat the big names! ... we can’t all hide like the English, can we?; and

4. No space for sentimentality! Only Roberto Ayala, Sorin, Crespo and Aimar survive from the 2002 squad, while even former captain Javier Zanetti and goalkeeper German Lux were axed from the team headed to Germany. Contrast that with England and... Darius Vassell???

5. They are probably the best “team” among the leading contenders. Devoid of big star names, they are drawing each other closer and closer and are emerging a very strong unit. It’s on the cards, brothers – prepare to watch magic in blue and white again! Pasti jalan, brudder...

P.S. *DISH* *BISH* needs guest bloggers for the World Cup. From any aspect -- World Cup widows, Angola fans, or even why you think Guus Hiddink has got another trick up his sleeve (For South Korea '02, read Australia '06). LET'S DO IT FELLAS!

Please, monsieur... enough with 1966!

2006-05-30T13:35:00.000+08:00

OK, I'm no authority, but once in four years we all get the chance to play 'chief-strategist-at-large' for FIFA - at least in our own world lah.

So I will say it: I am fed up of hearing anything more about England and their (meagre) chances of success in June.

Fed. Up.

I will state for the record that as long as Sven Goran Ericsson is in charge - which will be for the next 39 days, at best - England can forget about progressing, speak nothing of winning any competition of note, in international football.

As it is, it think England won't have it as easy as they think against Paraguay - they may even struggle to cope. They have thus far under-estimated the unknown T&T, and if World Cup history has thought us anything, the lesser brothers can at times steal a point when you least expect them.

Then of course, there is Sweden. They provided a stiff test for Angleterre in JPN/KOR four years ago. Messers Larsson, Ibrahimovic, Ljungberg et al form the true test if the boys in white can hope to take two steps beyond the group stages. For if they fail to beat Sweden and take the top spot in Group B, guess who lie in wait in the Round-of-16?

Oui, monsieur: L'Allemagne. Alemania. La Germania. Jerman. The home team!

For all the banana-skin-like, slippery carelessness and dourness of Herr Klinsmann's team, oh so surely will they pip Costa Rica, Ecuador and Poland to the top spot in Group A, and lie in wait for the runners-up in England's group.

SGE is a poor tactician for a team of England's calibre, at a competition like this. The ground will quake before he ever departs from his rigid "4-4-2, Owen plus whoever", sorry excuse for a strategy. No Rooney? OK, let's move to Plan B. Who ELSE can we play in the 4-4-2??? Egad! Wie dumm können Sie erhalten? (which is "How stupid can you get?" in the language of the home team... or at least that's what I think it is).

Too many pundits have said it before, and I will say it again: England's strength lie in its midfield. For all the stout defensive qualities of Terry and Ferdinand, they are often exposed by short passing through the opponent's midfiend and/or could often be found napping during set pieces. Plugging Gerrard or Lampard (or as SGE would have it, inter-changing them) in the 'Makalele role' has been a folly of the past, and the center-backs are often exposed when the two instinctively gallop forward, as is what they do best. It is just the lubang the opposition need to break through.

Of all the seeded teams (bar Mexico) England have the poorest strikeforce. Rooney's metatarsal is a national team crisis, and I doubt we'll see a "It's Wayne's World" headlines in The Daily Mirror, not at this World Cup at least. Owen lost his lustre two seasons ago. It is quite frightening when one is forced to admit that perhaps Peter Crouch may prove the glimmer of hope for St. George's boys this summer.

No, their strength is in their peaking midfield. If only SGE would unleash with liberal abandon Gerrard and Lampard to foray up front where they are at their acid best, with minimal defensive duties, and if only Joe Cole is left to roam in from the left flank, with Beckham on the right, if only he plays perhaps a Michael Carrick just in front of the back four in the holding (defensive) role, with a sole striker (Owen, Walcott, or whoever the hell that may be)... then maybe, just maybe England could have a chance of advancing into the deeper end of this tournament. That's right, brothers... 4-1-4-1.

They have the players for it, so why not, Sven?

I'm watching, I'm waiting, but I'm not holding my breath.

Meanwhile, save the date, brothers: The Allianz Arena, Munich. Friday, 30th June (1st July in Malaysia). Round-of-16. Germany v. England.

1-5 again? Don't you bet on it.