In amongst the aftermath of the “Big Game” on Sunday, a Liverpool fan tweeted me. Strange I thought, this chap didn’t tweet me when we beat them in the previous two games, but I engaged him nonetheless. It seems he had been made aware of my 7Cantona’s feature, although he did say he was “looking forward to my match report on Monday”. So he wasn’t 100% accurate. I informed him that my feature was actually a totally unbiased article which was a musing on the week’s events in the world of football. He said that he hoped I would mention the brilliance of Suarez, and also muse about the “Fat Granny Shagger”. So I will.
Luis Suarez played very well, and I was bitterly disappointed in the summer when United didn’t make any effort to try and recruit him. Watching him in the World Cup he clearly is a quality player who could well prove to be a fantastic asset to Liverpool. But that’s not all there is to say about him. Following the melee that broke out after Rafael’s accidental foul on Maxi, that dirty tombstone-toothed weasel actually pulled Da Silva’s hair. He reached across and took a handful of Rafa’s curly locks and pulled them, like a 13-year-old girl. What an absolute bummer. Not that this is the first time he has been guilty of such cowardly assaults. In November, Suarez put his super-sized gnashers to use, biting PSV midfielder Otman Bakkal on the shoulder. For this act of teenage girl petulance he received a 7-match ban and the nickname “Cannibal of Ajax”. However, there is an explanation of sorts for his outrageous behaviour, it is understood that Suarez already knew he was going to be sold to Liverpool to replace Mrs Torres who was going to be the plaything of Cashley Hole at Chelsea. Having done his homework on his new team mates, he realised that Carragher was going to be missing a very special someone after the transfer window and so was merely trying his hand at “tough love” foreplay. Commendable. I don’t even need to mention his handball that denied Ghana the progress they deserved in the World Cup. Maybe it was reactionary and maybe lots of players would have done the same thing, but I am sure many of them wouldn’t have celebrated in the way that he did. There was something very sinister about the whole event, and I was pleased when the super-tusked cheat was ousted from the World Cup. So, a hair-pulling, biting cheater – should fit right in on Merseyside.
His hair-pulling antics made me think about some other half-arsed attempts at harming opponents. I will never forget the day that Drogba effectively lost his team the Champion’s League with the gayest slap of all time. Into injury time, Drogba, who had played like a washing machine, finally lost his rag and hit out at Vidic. Hit out is actually a generous description; it was more of a playground slap, but it was enough to get him sent off. As the greasy-locked Ivorian trudged off the pitch so did Chelsea’s chances in the penalty shootout. Had Drogba been on the pitch Terry would not have been the vital fifth taker and his leaden feet would have been excused the chance to score the winning penalty. Then Anelka would have been excused the terrible burden of having to walk a short distance and kick a football 12 yards towards a great big goal. I always thought that in that position, having made his mind up to do something to Vidic, then surely you might as well give him a proper twatting and earn the inevitable red card. At least then you would feel like you had been justifiably dismissed, but then if he had I cannot begin to think about the way Vidic would have dealt with it. They would probably still have vodka-addled Muscovites searching for bits of Didier in the Moska River.
So, as requested, I am going to mention Rooney. The man that looked like he was going to single-handedly win United the League and Champions League last season until his untimely injury practically ended his season. Then, of course, there was all that unpleasant business in South Africa where Rooney was doing his best impression of Emile Heskey, with the first touch of a pelican and the movement of a double garage. Wayne returned to Old Trafford, but was clearly still unfit and unhappy. Then he asked to leave, then changed his mind, and all the while he was still being Emile. With the exception of his wonder goal against Citeh, he has been rubbish this season and although I originally thought that it was the absence of Antonio Valencia that was lacking, I have finally figured it out. If you look back through his career you can quickly figure out a pattern. When Wayne was breaking all the scoring records in the Everton youth team he was courting Coleen and they were teenagers, in Liverpool, in love. Wayne scored a few when he broke into the first team, but then had a barren patch. He came to United and although his overall play and commitment was superb he scored goals in fits and starts until last season. 2009-2010 was his season, scoring goals from all angles and looking like he was going to break Ronaldo’s 42-goal record. Then it went wrong. So what is the catalyst? What is wrong now? Quite simply, Wayne is carrying a bit too much weight, only a few grams… in his testicles.
As a youth teamer, Wayne was banging the goals in and banging something else, until he got caught with the elderly ladies. Then he hit a bad patch of form. In his early days at United sporadic spells of goals clearly correlated with some time spent at home with Mrs Rooney, but then as away games and her work at Asda separated them he was lacking the impetus to score. Last season, Wayne was “allegedly” friends with two young ladies and he was a goal machine. Until he was “allegedly” caught and probably made to sleep on the sofa. Now he can’t score anywhere. So the answer is quite clear, Wayne needs to be a bit lighter before he goes out on the pitch. But how can this be achieved? Obviously we can’t advocate any extramarital activities and I think even a friendly hand shandy would be out of the question. However a quick internet search reveals the answer – milking the prostrate, this simple activity would enable Wayne to get out on the pitch at his ideal fighting weight and he would once again be terrorising defences all over Europe. It’s a shame then that Mrs Torres tootled down to London, this would have been a great job for him.
In other news, Jamie Carragher has been typically apologetic after yet another tackle that wouldn’t look out of place in Karate Kid 2. The scouser, who has always had allowances made for him on account of his mental handicap, attempted to cut Nani in half for fire wood at the weekend. Despite the completely unnecessary knee-high lunge it was deemed that it was perfectly acceptable, mainly because he isn’t Wayne Rooney. Luckily talking about the tackle gave the BBC another chance (or nine) to show the Rooney “coming together” against Wigan, so it wasn’t an entirely wasted event.
Also, your friend and mine, Kolo Toure had a misadventure. The poor lad accidentally took one of Mrs Toure’s slimming tablets which seemingly contained a banned substance. I have a bit of sympathy for Colon, how else was he supposed to get the full effect of his afternoon without taking them? He was already wearing her underwear and was just about to start applying the makeup and Mrs Toure always has her slimming tablet just before she puts her lippy on. Wouldn’t be right without them. It will be interesting to see what the magnificently consistent FA makes of this though. I would imagine the disciplinary committee will get together and send him a few Weight Watchers ready meals, poor old Colon. Maybe Rio should have told them he missed his drugs test because he couldn’t find his girlfriend’s tablets.