A Week In Football : The Grand Finale

A Week In Football : The Grand Finale

So, after a roller coaster few months of threatened legal action, vitriolic reaction and a few laughs at other teams’ expense, this is the last edition of “A Week In Football” for the 2010-11 season. Given the dynamic nature of this feature (or the writer being unable to follow a disciplined procedure and subject matter) it seems best to discuss the two topics on everybody’s lips right now;

Who could be the next Chelsea Boss?

Players summer jobs.

*Obviously the TOP topic is the Champions League Final, but as I have said before I am a jinxer, so I won’t be mentioning that game any more.*

So, with Carlo Eyebrowcelotti unceremoniously sacked, the media glare once again shines upon the oligarch with a shady past, Mr Roman Abramovich. Roman has allegedly invested more than £600m in Chelsea, and so I don’t think anyone can question his right to do what the hell he likes with the club. I would like him to sell the entire squad and instead send out fully kitted otters to represent the rent boys, but that at present seems a little unlikely. Seemingly the first manager to lead Chelsea to a Premier League and FA Cup Double was no longer good enough for the village idiot though, and so the search begins for the next manager. Let’s analyse the possible puppets;

‘Arry Redknapp – The bookies favourite for the role, ‘Arry is clearly keeping his options open, telling Sky sports “I haven’t heard anything from Chelsea that’s for sure”. Which translated from cockney into English is “I jolly well hope I do get a call from that super Abramovich chap because despite spending millions of pounds I have fucked it right up at Spurs now and I will have to sell all my lovely players because no-one wants to play in that European Sunday League used car second-hand shit shield competition.” I think it is unlikely ‘Arry will get the call, mainly because the first thing he would do is sell Roman’s yacht, use the funds to buy a few tonnes of weapons grade plutonium and then swap that for Wesley Sneijder and Emile Heskey, creaming off the profits for himself to spend on jellied eels.

Guus Hiddink – The incredibly over-rated Goose is hugely indebted to Abramovich because the simple looking oil thief used to payroll him when he was the coach of the Russian team. Originally Goose had turned down the approach from the Russians; he couldn’t justify taking a job where the annual salary was 15 turnips and a brisk rub down from a former KGB officer. Roman agreed to pay him personally and so the friendship (lifetime debt) began. Goose is a reasonably talented coach, but has chosen to manage national teams in recent years so that he can avoid the pressure that comes with club management. One game every two months is just about manageable for a man that likes to spend his spare time eating cake. Goose will not come to the Bridge permanently though; the competition for the after training pastries is too fierce. Several times during his last spell at the Bridge he went hungry after being beaten to the trough by Francis Lampard.

Jose Mourinho – The Special One, or the man that inherited a team of superstars, bought a few more at a tectonic plate shifting expense, yet could only manage to with the Spanish Cup, a trophy so shit that Sergio Ramos chucked it under a bus in disgust. There is no way Jose will go back to the Bridge. He is holding out for the head cunt role at Citeh. Imagine the millions he would have to fritter away at Wastelands, he could afford any fee Real Madrid asked for Carvalho.

Manuel Pellegrini – Very unlikely; he was shit as a player and coach at Liverpool.

Andre Villas-Boas – Clearly Roman is thinking through the latest vacancy. Instead of getting someone from job club he is contemplating the Porto boss as his new puppet. The not-as-stupid-as-he-looks Russian has remembered that his last useful manager came from Porto and has decided that the club must be a rich seam of coaching talent. What he hasn’t realised is that a tarragon brushed carrot could coach Porto to the Portuguese league title as the rest of the teams are poo.

John Terry – This is not a joke. Mr Chelsea, or armband-stealing, penalty-missing, crack-dealing cry baby to you and I, could well end up as the Chelsea manager. To all intents and purposes he already is, if things don’t go according to his plans he tells “Romy” and the axe is wielded. Just take a moment of your time to imagine a management team of Terry, Lampard and Cole. Crying, pie eating and secret man love while carrying a fire arm.

So, topic two — what about some summer jobs for players?  As we all know it is a terribly hard job playing football. Countless riches, afternoons off and, of course, playing the game you love for a job. It’s like being a lager, pizza and 3D telly tester as a part-time job while winning the lottery every other month. But, some of our favourites are either looking for new employment, or should be, so let’s try and allocate them a summer job;

Sol Campbell – Old father time has finally told Campbell to fuck off. The rotund ex-defender has been taking the piss out of chairmen’s wallets for a few seasons now and has finally seen fit to retire. Oh, hold on, no he hasn’t. The Barcodes have finally shed that troublesome 18 stone that has been bothering them for ages. But what will Sol do? ‘Arry needs a defensive minded coach, doesn’t he? I would imagine if Sol sends his CV in to Daniel Levy he will snap his hand off.

Dobbin van Horsie – The fiendishly grey warhorse (sorry) has been fighting his brittle body for years now, and although he has scored a few this season the summer months will surely bring on another potentially career ending ailment. Expect The Sun newspaper to carry the headline “Horsie out to pasture” as a difficult bout of sunburn finishes Dobbin off. So what could he do to make ends meet? Don’t the makers of Toy Story need a new “Potato Head” character for the 4th film? Easy for Dobbin, his limbs would detach with no bother, and probably fit up his arse with no difficulty.

Andy Carroll – Possibly the most obscene waste of money since the Millennium Dome, this lanky Geordie has nothing better to do, apart from rape and pillage Merseyshite since his withdrawal from the U-21 tournament. To keep him out of the slammer he needs a suitable line of work. Hold on, doesn’t the X-Factor need a gawky looking Geordie woman to judge the laughable “singing” contest? Perfect. And hasn’t the “messiah” Simon Cowell gone too? Then get King Kenny in to replace him. It’s like for like. Another clown with an opinion that matters less than how much wee a hippo does.

Those are the key appointments, but a brief roundup of June placements tells us;

Carragher – Key worker in a school for the desperately mentally retarded. Sadly this didn’t work out last summer as the full-time staff had to stick post it notes to his forehead to tell him apart from the patients.

Tevez – Kettleneck will quite possibly be giving donkey rides on the Costa Dorado. Unless Citeh keep hold of him, in which case it will be Southport beach. Or maybe the club shop will release a “pin the tail on the Tevez” game and he will be tasked with marketing it.

Crouch – After his own goal cost the defensively inept (until Sol arrives) Spurs their Champions League place, it is likely that he will be spending his summer hiding ‘Arry’s tax returns. That’s the beauty of Crouch, if he hides them in the branches of a tree, or the chimney of a cottage, who the fuck else is going to find them?

Robbie Keane – Surely he is nearing the end of his time. Did he retire after Berbatov was sold? There can’t be many more clubs that he dreamed of playing for as a kid? Maybe he could be a careers teacher? I have always wanted to be a train driver… no, a sandwich maker… wait, actually a chicken plucker etc etc.

Emile Heskey – Has the bell finally tolled for poor old Heskey? If it wasn’t for the wages surely the sheer embarrassment would have finished him years ago. Emile William Ivanhoe Heskey has scored 116 league goals in 518 appearances. Not “shoot him with a blunt knife” bad, apart from the fact that he has only mustered 37 of these in the last eight seasons.  Just over 4.5 goals a season, I am quite confident that if you planted a lilac tree in the penalty area it would score more goals over a season than that. But maybe Emile has got a vocation? With the increased terror threat in recent weeks doesn’t Birmingham airport need some hefty bollards to keep folk away from the terminals? Heskey, Bendtner and Kuyt all working in harmony to protect the public. Nice.

And that is it. After nearly six months of haranguing, taunting and piss-taking it is time for a well-earned break. Look out for the Caddies & Young season review coming to 7Cantonas in the next few days. Thanks for reading, see you next season.


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1 Comment

  1. sheila gletherow

    read this out loud ,it stiffles the coughing fits plus i can pretend ive got company.that and the laughter and jigging the bus about coz i need a wee and cant be bothered to get up.anyway enough about me,no hang on ,more about me.have decided that i got to do the wembley blag a ticket trip so going to london saturday morning.will take a picture of meself there and lie about the rest if all else fails.wish me luck.LOVE IT.


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