Category Archives: Premier League

Black Ties & Black Cats

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So, the Oompa Loompa from Kuala Lumpur finally did what everyone knew was coming, and sent Malky Mackay home to count a few million quid pay-off before he gets snapped up by another club. As dark clouds descend on the servant quarters in the Juno household all I can hear are the sad eulogies for the great accomplishments of the departing Malky, interspersed with expletive-laden remonstrations against the ‘clueless son of satan‘ who is holding the world’s greatest club to ransom. One thing is for sure, football fans have very little sense of perspective when it comes to reflecting on their own team.

The first embarrassment of Malky and Cardiff City FC came when the owner sacked Iain Moody as the experienced head of recruitment, and replaced him with a 23-year old Kasakh work experience painter and decorator. I am unreliably informed that the home team and supporters may find yet another surprise from Kazakhstan managing them in today’s crunch match:     Vincent Tan gallery: Vincent Tan gallery

As for today’s game, the big question is what happens when you throw a bunch of black cats amongst the wounded bluebirds?

        Sunderland FC have been known as the Black Cats since their 1997 move to their Stadium of Light home, with connections with such images over the last 200 years of history in the city. This can only cause conflict, huffs and recriminations in ‘Juno Central’; as I can sympathise with my ‘misguided servant-folk‘ and their persistence with lost causes, but I have to lend a roar to my kindred spirits.

History favours the Bluebirds… of 56 games Cardiff won 23, Sunderland won 19, with 14 draws. But history means nothing when the home team are in such disarray. The Black Cats are arriving on the back of ‘licking the toffee’ (and that is not a euphemism for anything, it is a surprise win away to Everton!). The Bluebirds are home again immediately after a ‘saintly slaying’, losing meekly to Southampton. My ‘resident lost cause‘ tries to suggest that current form counts for nothing, and the home team will raise their game in salute of the departing Malky Messiah, and in any case teams often win on the rebound to losing their manager, and in any case… blah, blah, blah!

With the locals in turmoil and the visitors in that unenviable ‘bottom of the table at christmas’ position this game has 0-0 bore draw written all over it in common footy parlance.

The Sky Sports dollar dictates that this match kicks off at 5.30p.m. and the home crowd are in full voice supporting their dear departed manager, as the team get into a bit of a huddle possibly still searching for the missing Malky.

City v Sunderland [1]

Twelve days of christmas

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You humans do seem to like your lists at this time of year, and even try to put them to song occasionally. Take a tip from me… don’t do it! The following is not a list, it is my topical manifesto adding to the seasonal football overload; particularly as the locals here have been going through a megalomaniac-inspired, finance-confused, football-knowledge-free, pantomime of farcical proportions. After all of last week’s threats that the Cardiff City FC Manager was minutes away from the sack, the announcement this week that he remains in post ‘for the foreseeable future or until things change‘ sheds much light on the stability of a managers position… he is clearly now promoted to the security of being hours from potentially being sacked instead of minutes.

Anyway, Southampton FC must be wondering whether santa has left them a delayed gift as they arrive today to play a team and club in utter turmoil! But my ‘source of in-house erudition‘ says beware of the rabid dog with one eye hanging from its socket and sharpened teeth dripping with steamy green saliva… whereas I say beware of any dog (except Molly and Jack who bought me a christmas stocking gift). So, what is likely to be taking place here in God’s Own City this Boxing Day afternoon?

12 Bluebirds chanting…

11 Saints for slaying…

City v Southampton [2]

 

 

 

10 world class saves…

9 ayatollahs…

8 pitbulls snarling…

7 pinpoint Whittingham wonders…

             

6 (66) versions of looney tunes…

5 TENSE MONTHS (until survival in May)…

4 captain Caulkers…

3 great fight-backs…

2 bruised egos still fighting…

And a partridge in the City Arms! How much chance do you think we have of winning today Sean (Partridge)?

Sean's world

Ouch! Come on, that’s a bit harsh.

Meanwhile on the pitch… the home team are without their pitbull, the expected wonders seem to have been left behind with the leftover turkey, and the locals are caught between chanting for the saving of their manager and the disappointment with their team’s poor performance. Sean seems to have predicted it correctly as the slaying is being done from the outset by the Saints. Clinical Southampton players out-fight, out-think and out-play their Cardiff counterparts to go 3-0 up with barely half an hour gone. Boxing Day for the home team looks like becoming an embarrassment.

Hanging on desperately until half-time the ragged band of red-coated bluebirds are about as clear in their style of play as they are in their team colours and name. Surely the second half will bring some redemption:

City v Southampton [3]For Southampton it continues in the style of a training ground practice match, encouraging their own fans to taunt the locals. Cardiff make some changes of personnel and toil desperately to make something happen. But, as the second half draws to a close it becomes clear the Malky’s Marauders have been tamely put to the sword by the Saintly Slayers of Southampton… 0-3!

‘Resident masochists‘ have heads in hands muttering something about despair, so I am a quietly sniggering Juno feigning sympathy until we speak again.

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Another christmas ghost story

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Ebenezer Mackay approached the staff entrance to the Cardiff City Stadium and immediately reeled backwards in surprise. There on the door was the most ghostly apparition starring back at him…

A disembodied voice boomed: “Malky, before you enter this portal again you must reflect on the ghosts of Premier Past, Premier Present and Premier Future. Firstly, Premier Past… I know you spent too much of my money, and as a punishment I removed your right hand and replaced it with a chocolate teapot, but what were you thinking at Palace last week?

“If we are to stay up and you keep your job we have to be winning these games… or at least that is what people who properly understood football have suggested I say.”

Malky, accustomed as he is at the blank expression required for trying to be serious when talking to doors [see above image], offered the usual Glaswegian response to such threats… unfortunately no interpreter was available to provide a coherent translation, but a combination of ‘Jimmy’, ‘stitch’ and ‘that’ were audible to those close by.

The apparition boomed again: “If you can’t speak fluent Malaysian when addressing me, your Almighty Leader, at least get the fans off my back with a win against the Warner Brothers Association or whatever they are called. The fans have had enough of the Hollywood extravagance from recent visiting teams, they want some of the fabled gritty British stuff to be dealt out by us to the opposition.”

Malky knew on this occasion he had a prize ghost up his own sleeve, the ghost of Premier Past and Premier Present would be available for selection in his own team:

       v.       

So is it to be the Peter Odemwingie show? Will he step up to the plate and put the West Brom transfer debacle behind him, and respond to the away fans taunts the way all Cardiff fans expect?

The blood-curdling voice made one final remonstration: “The ghost of Premier Future will come in the shape of Liverpool at Anfield. We can discuss your christmas present after that result.” Malky stood unrepentant, and with the defiance that comes from having all of the fans on your side he delivered his own ghostly response… “Threaten me pal and I will send a few ghosts around to your mansion for a little talk. The ghosts of Scottish football history will pay an enlightening visit.”

      These guys can tell you a little bit about football, and they also know something of the Glasgow ways of doing things.

It’s 3.00p.m. on a grey Saturday afternoon, the West Bromwich Albion players look unimpressed by the Cardiff pre-match love-in, the home fans are awaiting some fireworks…

City v WBA [1]

 

From the off the Bluebirds/Red Dragons/Purple Dragonbirds (take your pick) promise fireworks with three early chances, but as with many a fireworks display it fades after a few minutes of sparkle, bang and crash… with no goals to show for the effort. The remainder of the first half follows a pattern of Cardiff domination that the locals have become unused to seeing so far this season… but still no goals.

The second half seems to be providing much of the same, when at last in the 66th minute a cross from Craig Noone was met for a rare headed Peter Whittingham goal (a bonus for my personal representative, who also has Whittingham in a fantasy team).

Peter Wittingham scores

Chances at both ends happen during the remainder of the match, with both teams making a bit of a meal of scoring any decisive goals. West Bromwich Albion are possibly more famous for their Balti Pies, and on this performance they are still more famous for their pies as they were definitely the undercooked product in comparison to a home team sponsored by the more appetizing Peter’s Pies:

The ghost of Premier Past failed to haunt the away fans, but Peter Odemwingie did enough to draw the applause of Premier Present in the form of the home fans. For the record the final score was PETER’S PIES 1 BALTI PIES 0. Ebenezer Mackay went away with a smile and a little less fear of any outcome from the ghost of Premier Future at Anfield next week. As for Bob Cratchit and Tiny Tim, they will be enjoying a few more smiles when they look at the Premier League table after this result, but await many more guarantees before the promised riches of the league are secure for a further year.

I have been Juno, and I hope these seasonal reflections didn’t scare too many anxious Purple Dragonbirds as they seek a reassuring christmas carol from the Malaysian humbug in their financial driving seat. I look forward to further seasonal ruminations before too long.

EU integration at work

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     V.      

Who says that England and Wales don’t work well within a European Union structure? Clearly a Cardiff-based eleven would like to do a UKIP, and put a sharp spike into the idea of European unity in today’s match. However, Arsenal’s current place atop the Premier League suggests that a pan-European blend is managing to disturb the notorious hush of the Emirates Library in north London.

A definite Franco-German axis dominates the Arsenal landscape at present, with a more than adequate support from English, Welsh, Spanish, Polish, Belgian and Czech Republic counter-parts. However, as with most European institutions, the Arsenal style can tend towards the over-elaborate with an emphasis on style over substance. The onlookers are often left with a feeling that the never-ending ‘process’ fails to deliver any tangible ‘products’ to their liking.

Many of their opponents experience that UKIP-like feeling, that any encounter with a European Union structure only leaves you mesmerised by the maze of hoops and rings spun around you. This understandably gives rise to an increasing urge to kick something… Arsene’s Arse providing the most obvious target (if you can penetrate the quilted wall of its defence):

    

The big questions for today are: what will happen when the English of Wales outnumber the English of England; and the greater number of Welsh players could be on the English side? Who will need to become most demonised by UKIP when they open up their cheque books to Rumanians and Bulgarians during the January transfer window? How many smiles will Arsene Wenger crack open during this match (all betting agency sources and Ray Winstone are available naaarrw).

  

A 3.00pm kick-off on a Saturday afternoon is a bit disorienting for supporters who have had more Sunday kick-offs so far this season. But the home fans are not left waiting for too long before their historic appreciation of former player Aaron Ramsey is put to the test. He scores to put Arsenal 1-0 in the lead, and there is a rare moment in the football kingdom where a scoring opponent is applauded by the home fans. Are you smiling Mr Wenger? Perhaps this is what joy looks like:

 

Cardiff somehow hang on to a 1-0 deficit through to half-time, but more due to the visitors playing slightly below their own standards. The second half approaches with the home team needing some inspiration from somewhere.

City v Arsenal

A more evenly contested half ensues, but the clinical efficiency of the league leaders produces a further two goals for a fair winner but maybe a slightly flattering result. Purple Dragonbirds are out-gunned by Arsenal 0-3. European unity prevails and there is time for one particular face to crack open a smile:

      I have been Juno, and with a busy weekend I will give you my views on a Wales v Australia rugby match next time we meet.

The Unmentionables

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My pathologically biased servant has suggested I avoid using the most commonly recognised name of today’s visitors to fortress CCS (Cardiff City Stadium). So, in the interests of balance here comes the greatly anticipated game between Riverside FC established in 1899 v Newton Heath (Lancashire & Yorkshire Railway) FC established in 1878. The esteemed visitors were originally named after their local railway depot, so in one sense they are being welcomed today by their hosts Canton Sheds. Since the turn of the 21st century the visitors have been attributed a new name after the theatrical exploits of some of their more balletic personnel. Cristiano Ronaldo was determined to perfect the art of the pike, twist and tuck before he moved to Real Madrid and learned how to stand up for relatively longer periods of the match.

         The Trafford Park Diving Club was born and is now in the rudest of health through the single-handed efforts of Ashley Young as he stuttered from

  Watford into Aston Villa, and then tripped the light fantastic up the M6 to the dangerously lurking rinks and pools of Salford and district…

      Its November, and the recent spell of colder weather could be treacherous for the visiting delicate flowers. The Cardiff players will be under strict orders by the local Magistrates to observe a 5-metre exclusion zone around any of the opposition wearing gloves outside of the penalty areas, to avoid giving anyone reasons to revert to an artistically horizontal game plan.

We approach 4.00pm on another unusual Sunday afternoon kick-off, c/o the Sky-dollar. It is time for the Red Dragons/Bluebirds (Purple Dragonbirds) to measure themselves against the existing English champions in the form of the Red Devils:

    V.     

The visitors display the early tactic of getting the home team to play the opposite way to what they prefer to do… thus reducing the impact of the home support on their team’s attacking play in the second half.

City v Man Utd [1]

The away team have been heavily dependent on the goals of the attacking Dutch/Anglo partnership of ‘White Van Man’ and ‘Join the Dots’; as their defence of ‘Dutch Junior’, ‘Peckham Twitter’ and various ‘Treatment Room Recliners’ have been even less convincing than a midfield that is still occasionally relying on an old guy born in Cardiff 40 years ago next week. Master Wilson not only left his home-town before he had the chance to play on a cold Tuesday night in Grimsby (instead of a warm Wednesday night in Barcelona), but clearly felt the need to change his name when stepping into the limelight of sporting celebrity and nefarious family sexual unmentionables.

The opposition are without ‘White Van Man’, and it is up to ‘Join the Dots’ to start with a less than impressive connecting with player rather than ball; a well-deserved yellow card, despite the home fans plaintive pleas for a red card sending off. However, the miscreant responds to the taunting of the home crowd with a goal early in the game. However, typical of such an occasion, it is a former upstanding member of the Diving Club, a newly installed home favourite by the name of Frazier Campbell who sends the home fans delirious with an equaliser mid way through the first half…

Fraizer Campbell; Jonny Evans Cardiff City v Manchester United - English Premier League 11242013

… only for that man ‘Join the Dots’ to set up a late second goal for the visitors just on the stroke of half-time. These teams haven’t met since the days when their old man of Cardiff was in nappies (c1974/5 season), and since then they have experienced contrasting fortunes. The eponymous Trafford Park Diving Club have had unprecedented opportunities to perfect the art through competition with European experts of the forward somersault with twist and pike. Meanwhile, the Mighty Bluebirds have had the unenviable trips to the football citadels of Scunthorpe, Halifax and Darlington. What will this gulf in experience bring as the two teams are set for kicking off the second half?

City v Man Utd [2]

They may be in the lead but the away team are clearly missing the historic motivation of a demented hair-dryer…….

  The differences in wealth and experience are nowhere to be seen as both teams create a few chances to keep the crowd edgy. Then, as the announcement is made of four minutes of added time to play, up steps the king of South Korea as Kim-Bo Kyung heads the equaliser, and the crowd go wild.

Kim Bo-Kyung scores Cardiff City’s late equaliser against Manchester United during the Premier League match at Cardiff City Stadium in Cardiff. Photograph: Rebecca Naden/Reuters

The Purple Dragonbirds roar as the Red Devils are left to contemplate their blunt spikes:

       

‘Pathological Bias’ tells me the match ended in a ‘Desmond’ [*]: Riverside 2 Newton Heath 2 and that hearing the away fans exercising their bloated egos through moaning about the result as they were leaving the ground really adds icing to the cake. While the local fans take a rest in a favourite hostelry I will continue to be Juno, looking forward to more interesting things like our next conversation.

[* Desmond Tutu]

The Ugly Beautiful Game

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The ‘lovely ugly town’ (Dylan Thomas) that grew up into a ‘pretty shitty city’ (Dougray Scott’s character in the film ‘Twin Town’) encounters a hostile reception from their neighbours in the capital of culture, beauty and refinement. The first ever South Wales Premier League derby sees the battle of the rivers Taff v. Tawe… what is it about so many of these football teams trying to tantalise my taste buds by adopting different kinds of birds as their emblems? Today the Bluebirds v. The Swans are getting ready to tear each other apart, as that rare moment emerges when something so loved by so many becomes tainted by a sinister back-drop of hatred for fellow supporters:

       V.        

We are all set for 90 minutes of the beautiful game to be played out in front of 27,000 magnificently mindless people who don’t quite get how world-definingly meaningless this event is to all but the supporters of each club. For many of those present the events on the pitch will take a mere secondary role of stoking up the vehemence felt by one tribe to another. The fact that both tribes share a nation’s pride seems superfluous, as whatever brain cells are possessed have surely been left firmly locked away at home.

Meanwhile, there are rather unusual pre-match preparations… for such a big match as this the away team squad have adopted a different pre-match warm-up, as they forgo the usual coach journey to the ground and have been spotted sneaking in via the local waterways:

Swan armada [1]

For the ugly folk wishing unmentionable pains on their rivals the game is supposed to be more important than matters of life and death (Bill Shankly), but in reality it is only 22 rich kids falling over while kicking each other, and kicking the modern day equivalent of a pigs bladder around an incredibly well manicured patch of grass. Despite tales of money, the beautiful side of the game has been widely attributed to these elegant swans through many plaudits from pundits and fans alike (but not from the snarling variety of fans found in these parts). If you are looking for the ugly side of the game, look no further than the so-called gentility of the bluebirds… not only do they have an owner so far out of touch with the reality of local passions, but they now have their very own El Pitbull aka Gary Medel.

But hang on, isn’t this billed as the South Wales derby? By my reckoning we are about to witness ‘The Rest of the World v Spain’ as the line-up of players is being announced. There could be as much as one local person on each side as the Cardiff team is represented by at least Scotland, England, France, Chile, Iceland and South Korea. As for Swansea they manage to parade more Spanish players than Barcelona or Real Madrid.

Games like these need careful preparation, and some of the away fans are spotted visiting one of my local hostelries before the match; they are probably debating what to eat and drink in the absence of any paella and rioja:

Swans at lunch

Strange rituals emerge on the pitch as the Swansea white huddle are asking each other why the crowd seems so hostile towards players of the beautiful game. Meanwhile the Cardiff red and black huddle debate the forthcoming duck-shoot, with swans substituted for the ducks.

Cardiff City v Swansea City [2]

But now it is 4.00p.m. Sunday 3rd November 2013, and the derby will never be the same again. This is a match that is being televised around the globe… Sky had better turn the crowd microphones down unless they wish to shock the delicate and faint-hearted. The question on everyone’s lips is ‘Who will be the first player to make the meaningless kissing of the badge gesture?’ It used to be a representation of the passion for their club, but now means a thank you to the club that is temporarily paying shed-loads of cash into their bank account until the next transfer… but who am I, a mere cat, to cast such cynicism on this working man’s sport that provides a platform for a young man to become a billionaire before he can count much past ten?

Half-time shows up without seeing the arrival of either the ugly or the beautiful, but there is encouraging signs for the home fans that El Pitbull is much more of an El Duracell, with no signs of the reputation that got him sent off 7 times in 80 games in Spain. Time to prey to the God of Cliches for a game of two halves…

Cardiff City v Swansea City [4]

 

It’s the second half, and cometh the hour cometh the game… a capital corker from CAPTAIN CAULKER signals the time for the home fans to go into paroxysms of ecstasy; after all football fans are nothing if not easily pleased by a goal for their team.

Steven Caulker towers above the Swansea defence to score the winner

The lively atmosphere throughout has now been injected with extra venom against the visiting fans in the corner of the ground. But, as 90 minutes pass and the fourth official exasperates the Cardiff crowd by awarding 5 extra minutes of stoppage time there is still a stage awaiting a drama… and up it steps in the 91st minute. Campbell the Cardiff striker is charging out wide of the goal as Vorm the Swansea goalkeeper scythes him to the ground (or at least brings him down without touching the ball). Is it yellow or is it red? On this occasion Cardiff fans have no doubt about the colour, it has to be a red card. The referee duly obliges and the Swansea goalkeeper has to walk. With no further substitutes left they have to nominate another player to be goalkeeper for the remaining few minutes. The tension ramps up, and the game gives die-hard fans of both sides something to argue about until the next derby.

The final whistle blows and the hype has fortunately remained unfulfilled. With a helicopter overhead, snarling police alsatians en masse in van-shaped cages, and a metal fence with thin blue line penning the away fans in, it is time for the home fans to disperse in the knowledge that Cardiff go above Swansea in the Premier League table. Some away fans might have been seen drowning their sorrows after the game in an unorthodox fashion:

Synchronised swanningFor the students of the stats it finished Purple Dragonbirds 1 Grey Swans 0.

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Why aye, monsieur

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The land of song welcomes the city of great rock music for 90 minutes brimful of inane shouting and chanting dressed up as collective banter. Yes its time for the weekly ‘who are ya’s‘ and ‘your support is f*@king s%!t‘ to be eloquently presented by the neanderthal minority from one end of the stadium to the other. The Men of Harlech meet the Geordie Hordes as the passionate masses proclaim their city’s rites to Premier League glory. A musical son of Newcastle (born in Glasgow) recently provided us with a dialectical treat in the form of Why Aye Man, including the lyric There’s English, Irish, Scots, the lot. The following line talks about United Nations’ what we’ve got, which has been taken to a new level as Newcastle United can claim French, French, French and Argentinian is what we’ve got.

           

If you’re looking for the English then strangely it is the Welsh team line-up that will be of more interest to you! It’s 3.01p.m., and the home crowd are wondering…

City v Newcastle [1]

… which Newcastle team will they be up against: a cordon bleu menu served up with Chateauneuf du pape, or cheap plonk with a load of old pap? The away fans recall their old favourites, Lindisfarne, and the lyric Hey mr dreamseller, where have you been, tell me have you dreams i can see? For the first 45 minutes their dreams are answered as their team dominate pretty much everything of note that happens. With a half-time scoreline of 0-2 The Fog on the Tyne has done nothing to dim the view of the Newcastle players and fans, whereas the home fans are left wondering if the ‘Fog on the Taff’ has descended over their team, and fear a lyric of another Lindisfarne favourite: Had my share of nightmares didn’t think there could be much more.

Football has its moments, times when the bizarre passes off for normality, and this match duly obliged during the half-time interval… the away fans are treated to a personal performance of their icon tune, Blaydon Races, by the local and world famous Treorchy Male Voice Choir assembled on the pitch directly before them. Those of the Toon Army who hadn’t disappeared below ground to partake of the pie-eating challenge were duly appreciative of the gesture. The home fans played their part, with a backing vocal of a chorus of boos and obscenities; not a version that will be released for sale anytime soon! The second half couldn’t come soon enough…

City v Newcastle [2]

… and in a blaze of sunshine the cliche took on its usual embodiment; for the uninitiated football is often known as a game of two halves (yes, a first half and a second half… occasionally with four unequal halves if extra-time type competitions are being played… don’t ask, it’s probably just a need to out do cricket in the ‘need for explanation’ stakes).

Anyway, back to the real action… Cardiff City totally dominate the second half, scoring an early goal, and the away fans are now haunted by the Sting lyric: On and on the rain will fall… like tears from a star… how fragile we are. The casual flakiness of fans when their team suddenly change from being world-beaters to dead-beats usually causes something akin to introspection through the fearful chords of If I ever lose my faith in you (though ‘introspection’ and a shaven-headed neanderthal aren’t a regular mix to be found anywhere!). The home team keep knocking on the door (another one of those strange descriptions of footballing action), but to no avail. As the final whistle approaches the away fans are left to reflect on a brand new Sting song, as they take a battering And Yet I’m back, as they go away with the three points for a win. For the record the score is:

Bluebirds    1                                                 Magpies       2

          

Many thanks to the music legends of the north-east for providing the backing track to this post. I’ve been Juno, apparently listening to a report of yet another competition where different birds are represented, though my preference would be for a mix of both teams in a Blue-Pie stew. See you again soon.

It’s only money!

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My appointed football watcher tells me occasionally of a time when T.V. was only in black and white, how strange is that? They also say these were the days when football was cheap with little else to do in your spare time. So loads of people crammed into dilapidated stadiums for a regular fix of having their dreams and hopes crushed by the failings of their local team. Happiness is a strange concept in the minds of these sports enthusiasts. I hear that times have certainly changed, with this Premier League thing bringing in the big bucks. It reminds me of a song I keep hearing on the noise box inconveniently located near my favourite throne… It’s Only Money, which seems to be an anthem for all those ordinary people who can no longer afford the inflated prices charged for their regular torture sessions.

Whatever you happen to think about money-driven changes the reality is that the biggest recent spenders, Tottenham Hotspur, are parking their gold-plated limo’s in town this weekend. Oscar Wilde once said “When I was young I thought that money was the most important thing in life; now that I am old I know that it is.” And just to prove a point, in terms of recent spending, today’s contest just happens to be a £33.5 million v. £107 million match. If there are a lot of boxes of Monopoly games around missing all the money, it might well have been syphoned off by a few of the Premier League teams, as the previously poor debt-burdened Cardiff City have a squad transfer cost of £46.8 million, against the mighty Spurs weighing in at £192.1 million.

Its kick-off, and it is customary in these games to name the respective line-ups of the teams facing each other:

Cardiff City                       Tottenham Hotspur

1.     Free                                  £8.0m

2.     £2.2m                               Free

3.     £8.0m                               £4.0m

4.     £0.75m                             £12.0m

5.     Free                                  Free

6.     £0.35m                             Free

7.     Free                                  £6.8m

8.     £11.5m                             £17.3m

9.     £2.0m                               £26.4m

10.   Free                                  £11.8m

11.   £0.65m                             £15.0m

Spurs even had the luxury of selling-on a Cardiff-born player for a mere £86m to recoup some of their recent massive expenses. And I haven’t even started talking about the multi-millionaire status of some of these young folk… delicate thoroughbreds who quickly come to believe the hype that they get tired after a few weeks of playing two football matches a week. This is why teams now need big squads to cope with such incredible demands… just don’t tell that to the older guys who used to play 65 games a season for mere wages, rather than the instant wealth of today.

City v Spurs [1]

So, what does kicking off with £25.45m v £101.3m of ‘talent’ serve up for the punters… the majority who pay the riches of the few? Entertainment, passion and drama I am told by the deluded one representing me at the match. Isn’t that what all football supporters say? I wanted more detail, and being a cat for a stat I got more than I bargained for (all the following figures are in MILLIONS!):

The first real chance of the game falls to the home team as 0.65 breaks through on goal only to be thwarted by 8.0. Spurs dominate the half with strong runs by Free & Free (so much for all the dosh then). But it is Cardiff who get the ball in the net just before half-time as 0.35 takes a corner and 0.75 heads into the net, only the referee (usually the blindest person in the stadium) sees a foul by Cardiff’s Free on Spurs 8.0. Half-time arrives and the all-important stat is Cardiff City 0 Spurs 0.

City v Spurs [2]

 

The second half kicks off, and within the first minute Free for Cardiff requires a good save from Spurs goalkeeper 8.0. Within minutes 6.8 for Spurs hits the bar. This half sees a slightly more balanced game with both sides having chances. The usual substitutions take place for each team, with Cardiff replacing 0.65 and Free by 2.5 and Free. Meanwhile Spurs replace 6.8, Free and 11.8 by bringing on 26.4, Free and 1.5. Cardiff’s goalkeeper, Free, certainly earns his money with a string of outstanding saves throughout the match, only for 17.3 to back-heel the only goal passed him in the 93rd minute.

Final score is Bluebirds 0 Cockerels 1 (with the local parrots left feeling somewhat under the weather).

It’s only money, but Spike Milligan once said “All I ask is the chance to prove that money can’t make me happy.” Would he have retracted this request if he knew he might have to stroll around a field or even sit on a heated padded seat for 90 minutes to ‘earn’ his riches? As for me, I have been Juno, and no amount of money is going to shift me from another stressful 90 minutes on my favourite cushion…

Juno on cushion

… unless that bloody football comes on my colour T.V. yet again! See you again, before the next match.

Great Expectations

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Charles Dickens once said “I’m a Bluebird until I die”. That was Charlie ‘whatshisname’ (aka who the dickens is that?) sat somewhere in the Ninian Stand rather than the bard of London, Portsmouth and Rochester. At least that is what my nominated football watcher tells me, in a continuing state of delirium since Malcky’s Army downed the Manchester City juggernaut 3-2 last week. But perhaps the real Charles Dickens has already written the story of this season in the Premier League for the locals; as that most unlikely of results has now given rise to ‘Great Expectations’… if they can beat some of the richest, most overpaid of players, then just bring on the rest!

On the way to the ground for the next instalment, I am reliably informed that a scene reminiscent of the capture of the convict, Abel Magwitch, on the marshes was taking place, as Police vans, cars, horses and constables on foot escorted a relatively small group of the visiting fans to the ground. Greatly outnumbered, they offered nothing more than passive acquiescence. Cardiff City Stadium again provided an atmosphere as cauldron-like as Joe Gargery’s forge, with the locals open to accepting every lucky horseshoe coming their way. After all, this successful Everton team are not going to resemble any fading grandeur of Miss Havisham’s life.

In the book, the lawyer Mr Jaggers is the bringer of news of wealth from an anonymous benefactor. What is it that Phil Jagielka, the Everton captain, is saying to his manager Roberto Martinez, with a couple of days of the transfer window still open? There are other players on this team who may be contemplating Pip’s journey from the Kent marshes to the city of London, by moving away from the safety of their familiar Goodison home to a place in a more glaring spotlight. As for the home team, there would be more than a few hopes that a wealthy benefactor incarcerated in New South Wales would emerge to add to the Malaysian riches already decorating this part of old South Wales.

And so to another Saturday 3.00p.m. and the match kick-off, and one fan seems too overwhelmed by the tension of watching one man kick a ball a few inches to a colleague:

CCFC v Everton [2]

 

3.45p.m. 0-0… 4.05p.m. and it’s time to kick-off the second of this game of two halves. For those of you cats who have no interest in the intriguing story that unfolds as a back-drop to a tense 0-0 draw, but who hold a particular interest in the more colourful elements of life, the reds and the blues in the two pictures have completely turned around (or has my trusty photographer just walked around to the other stand?).

CCFC v Everton [3]

4.53p.m. 0-0… unless you are a supporter of either team that’s the summary of all the main action. The atmosphere generated by these passionate newcomers to the big-boys league was kept to a level of tension equaling that fabled return by the convict Magwitch as he is recaptured on the Thames.

The talking point of the game, as with so many, emerges in the post-match interviews. One side saw a nailed-on penalty and enough evidence that they should have finished with deserved victory; and the other side saw a good tackle and an even game that finished with a fair result. One thing seems very certain in the partisan world of football… a true fan sees what they want to see, not necessarily what really happened!

My nominated eyes on the game may be slightly biased, but they said Cardiff are fully deserving of four points at home against two teams from the top six last season. All of these numbers are doing my under-nourished sensibilities no good. To me the most significant numbers are 0-0… Charles Dickens would have to re-write his ending between Pip and Estella (again) if he was to equal the intensity of the story that had just unfolded on the pitch, according to my personally deluded reporter. Perhaps it is a score like this that cries out to be described in the gilded oratory of Stuart Hall, only without the heinous sex offences. I have been Juno, your Dickensian reminiscence benefactor, hoping to speak with you again soon.

Bluebirds 3 Blue Moon 2

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I kind of forgot to comment last week when my local team went to my old haunt in East London and lost, but today I was amazed by the sight of a jubilant Cardiff City fan coming down the road:

Jubilant Cardiff City Fan

Seems that being the richest team in the world doesn’t count for much when you come up against a bunch of Bluebirds who haven’t had a home match in the top league to shout about for 51 years. And so it came to pass, that the collection of multi-millionaires (aka Manchester City) were the first to come to town for a stroll in the park against the newly promoted (Champions, may I add) minnows of Cardiff City.

City v Man City [1]And there was me thinking they were big men… it seems like Cardiff had a sneaky tactic of bringing in a supporter large enough to scoop up most of the Manchester City team.

After a tense first half, with Cardiff keeping their illustrious visitors to 0-0, the half-time buzz was all about daring to dream, whilst trying to suppress the thoughts of what the men from everywhere except Manchester could do (well at least we had one from Cardiff!).

City v Man City [2]The whistle blows for the second half… its all Manchester City. They take an early lead, but it only spurs on the locals to even greater noise, getting behind their team, transmitting the belief as only football can… a bunch of overweight folks sat on their arses telling a bunch of fit blokes how to play (strange how these humans think when they get passionate).

Without any help from a Hollywood make-over merchant the miraculous happens, the dreams are answered, Martin Scorsese need look no further for the plot of his next film. An equaliser, Cardiff take the lead, then go further into the lead.

Fraizer Campbell scores the third goal for Cardiff

The Cardiff fans are in dreamland, expecting the fourth and fifth to arrive like London buses. Then the officials add on 6 minutes of injury time… the old traditional Fergie-time has transferred across Manchester. Time for Manchester City to pull back a second; could they find a further finish to bring the local hopes and dreams crashing down? Kiss my furry rump could they. The final whistle blows… its time for many a Cardiff person to pinch themselves. Yes, it really did happen, the world is a changed place from what it was at the 4.00p.m. kick-off… and normal football cliches will resume on all sports channels and in pubs across the land. Just don’t interrupt a Cardiff fan at the moment with silly questions about ‘Bluebirds’ playing in red and black:

Bluebirds I have been Juno, your intrepid sports reporter, see you again the other side of disbelief!