The reach of the Premier League is now so wide that you can take a taxi ride anywhere in the world and immediately strike up an intense conversation with a well-informed footie fanatic only too happy to riff on the merits of his chosen team. From Beijing to Bangkok, Delhi to Dubrovnik, Lima to Las Vegas everyone seems to have an opinion.
It’s also now de riguer for celebrities and media folk to declare a mostly spurious allegiance to (successful) teams. There are some extraordinary affiliations claimed by ‘slebs’ and others, rarely backed up with any meaningful association with ‘their’ team. The Manchester clubs in particular have been cursed with sham-fans but it’s fair to say you can discount any genuine emotional attachment to Mancs U or C claimed by those without roots in the North West of England. Anyone born beyond the clack of the spinning jenny claiming to be diehard Reds or Sky Blues can be dismissed as opportunists.
Those living in Greater Manchester are spoilt for choice. Mad-for-its from Bury, Bolton, Oldham, Rochdale, Wigan etc. have perfectly good local teams to obsess over. In the lower leagues the options are even wider. Footie fans from Atherton for example are able to choose between ‘The Colls’ (Atherton Collieries) in the Northern Premier League and ‘The Panthers’ (Atherton Laburnum Rovers) in North West Counties Div 1. What on earth would persuade the locals to throw their lot in with their more ‘fashionable’ noisy neighbours?
Now that the southern softie carpet-bagging Beckham has joined forces with his chums from the ‘Class of 92’ the newly gentrified Salford Town will no doubt shortly be inundated with a rag-bag of Scientologists and Hollywood charlatans. Fans can anticipate witnessing a cloth-capped Cruise Clan, the Travolta Tribe and their A-lister ‘bessies’ dragging on Capstan full-strengths, waving their rattles shouting ‘Pull up yers kegs, that’s bobbins - give yer ‘ead a wobble, ya mingers!’ and Making It Real down on Beasley Street.
The popularity of the Premier League has thrown up some supporters of English clubs who on the face of it are unlikely to have much else in common. It would be fun though to be in the Directors’ box at Old Trafford should Geoff Boycott, Miley Cyrus and Kim Jong-Un ever get invited to the same game. Similarly, Ian Duncan Smith and Jah Wobble would surely have plenty to chew over at the new White Hart Lane. It’s perhaps unlikely though that Liam Neeson will ever meet fellow Honorary Scousers LeBron James or Samuel L Jackson at Anfield given that they ‘might have a go at me over something, you know…?’
That our opponents today, Watford, can apparently count on the support of the likes of Robert Downey Jnr and Jennifer Aniston has everything to do with the patronage of one Reginald Kenneth Dwight, AKA Sir Elton Hercules Candelarbra, a fan since childhood who upon taking control of the 4th Division club in 1976 faced much derision after committing to take them to Division One, a feat he achieved within five years after appointing Graham Taylor as manager.
He also took them to an FA Cup Final in 1984, losing to Everton, and who amongst us could fail to be moved at the sight of the blubbing Blue Eyes at the final whistle not ‘holding back the tears, holding back the pain’.
To be fair to His Royal Regness, the loyalty shown to Graham Taylor is a lesson that the current owners the Pozzo family (or ‘Madmen Across The Water’…) might one day learn. Their first decision after taking control of the club in 2012 was to replace Sean Dyche with Gianfranco Zola, a bonkers move which established a pattern of bonkery:
- Zola had but one season in charge, his ambitions for the club snuffed out Like A Candle In The Wind after an extra time play-off final defeat.
- Guiseppe Sannino’s attachment to The Hornets was little more than a Part Time Love. One season in charge.
- Barcelona’s Oscar Garcia stepped down after 2 weeks for health reasons, to be replaced by Billy McKinlay who was shown the door after 8 days, one win and one draw.
- Next up Slavisa Jokanovic who took the team to the Premier League. Can You Feel The Love Tonight Slavisa? Nope - sacked in the morning!
- Quique Sanchez Flores lasted 9 months to be replaced by Honky Cat Walter Mazzari, sacked 1 year into a 3 year contract.
- Enter Marco Silva, gone after 6 months. Controversially tapped up by Everton. Why did he leave? I Guess It Was The Call From The Blues.
- Javi Gracia was appointed in January 2018 and remarkably, at the time of writing, is Still Standing (yeah, yeah, yeah…)
So, against the odds and all logic after a much-heralded record-breaking top-flight run of consecutive wins (just about any scenario holds the promise of achievement when you haven’t been in a position to compete for 50 years) we sit above the drop zone with two more winnable home games in the next five days. Bring it on!
In the event however, and continuing the theme of defying all logic, the manager’s team selection left most of us more than a little confused as Warnock chose to break up a reliable back four formation to find a place for captain Morrison returning from injury, opting for a central three and two wing-backs. Bacuna was given a first start, partnering Ralls in midfield, with Gunnarsson sitting it out on the bench alongside in-form Reid, leaving Niasse as the lone striker.
Ordinarily, and considering all that he’s achieved for us, it would be more than a little churlish to question the manager’s judgement but tonight on so many levels he just got it wrong. Despite a reasonable start and playing with something approaching a swagger after our recent form, the opposition soon got the measure of a disordered defence, Janmaat and Deulofeu linking well and providing plenty of options for the rapacious Deeney.
In midfield, although Bacuna was enthusiastic and prepared to take the initiative, the absence of the steadying influence of Gunnarsson meant that we were constantly overrun. Out wide, Murphy was capable of getting the better of Mariappa but didn’t seem to be on the same wavelength as Niasse who, although fleet of foot doesn’t look like a goalscorer. His natural position is as the junior partner, a supporting role taking the attention away from a natural predator.
Everywhere you looked we were found wanting, displaying few of the qualities that we’ve relied on to get us to this point. Yes, we should have been awarded a penalty and may have gone in level at half-time which would have restored some belief but we were second best in every aspect of the game against a team regarded as ‘the best of the rest’ beyond the top six, and now in prime position to take a Europa League qualifying spot.
The impudent but intensely dislikable Deulofeu showed all the qualities that made him such a precocious young talent at Barcelona whilst hinting at the conceitedness that will probably continue to be his undoing. His hat-trick match-winning performance was aided by individual mistakes and a mystifying collective inertia but he took his opportunities well, ably supported by the wholehearted endeavour of Troy Deeney.
Be in no doubt, 5-1 reflected a yawning chasm in class, endeavour and belief; all in all this was a dispiriting performance but one from which, even at the age of 70 and after 50 years in the game Neil Warnock will surely recognise his mistakes and to be able to draw on that vast experience to address the issues and get us back on track before too much ground is lost.
A Friday night fixture is a great way to start the weekend. If you win. So one dubious ‘winning run’ over, we can at least look forward to Wales extending their bona fide record 12 successive victories against an over-egged old enemy England this afternoon, staking a claim for the Six Nations title and putting a marker down for World Cup glory later in the year. What could possibly go wrong…
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