OLAS 452 January 18th 2009
How did that old Stranglers song go? “Whatever happened to Leon Trotsky? He got an ice pick that made his ears burn…”
What I want to know is whatever happened to that spherical super-striker dear old Brian Dear? If you think Frankie Lumpard is a tub of lard, well Brian Dear would have made him look like an anorexic supermodel.
Now why, all of a sudden, am I wondering about Brian Dear, my dear readers? Well it was a freezing cold day in February 1968 when I was getting ready to go to West Ham v Fulham and the sky turned white. Huge flakes of snow came down for about half an hour but miraculously didn’t settle. I had been worried that the game would be called off but it wasn’t – and what a game! Fulham scored first (Stevie Earle) but on 30 minutes West Ham got a corner, players jumped, the ball was propelled towards the goal but hit an immoveable obstacle right near the goal line. it was Brian Dear. The ball hit him on the chest, dropped to his feet, and he lifted a leg and back-heeled it in. Cheeky or what?
And that’s how it started. Twenty-five minutes later we were 5-1 up. And there was more to come. Martin Peters and Geoff Hurst added two further goals with Alan Clarke getting one more back for Fulham in between. The final score? 7-2. With Hurst soon to be joined by Clyde Best and Pop Robson, dear old Brian Dear didn’t get too many more outings. But I’ll always remember that cheeky goal, that incredible game, and think about the life of Brian. Apparently he still holds a record in the English game for the quickest five goals by one player – all in a 20 minute period against West Bromwich Albion in 1965.
So, Gianfranco, you are committed to attacking football, and here we are playing Fulham around this time of year again, and I’d like to see us tear them apart the way we did in ‘68. We’re certainly finding the net again – 11 in the last four games – and I have to say it, Carlton Cole’s goal against the barcodes was straight out of the Geoff Hurst copybook. Instead of his usual first-touch fumble and flop, he took the ball on his knee, made a quick turn then thump - a rising shot at lightning speed blasted into the roof of the net with his left peg. I thought I was dreaming at first, but it was true.
Going back to Fulham for a mo. The legendary Johnny Haynes captained the team that endured the 7-2 humiliation. He was a superb passer of the ball and Fulham legend who bawled his eyes out the one time he was booked. Now if Julian dicks behaved like that he would have run out of tears.
But Johnny Haynes was a great footballer and, when he retired, even though he wasn’t West Ham, I went to his testimonial match. You don’t get many chances to see the true greats. (I popped down to Fulham a few years later to see them play a friendly against Santos in which Pele was playing). Anyway getting to Johnny Haynes testimonial was a bit of a shlep for two young kids – my brother and me – so my mum took us. I don’t remember much about the game just that there were lots of guest players and even more goals. What stands out in my mind was walking up the Fulham Road after the game to get to the tube when we recognised a Fulham player – Stan Horne. we stopped him and got his autograph and he invited my mum to come and have a drink in the pub. Think he might have been getting Stan Horny. Anyway she turned him down, mumbled something about us having school in the morning. And to think I could have had a footballer going out with my mum…
So, anything interesting happening in your life since 2009? Certainly a lot has been happening here. Uncharacteristically, we have gone smoothly through the third round of the Cup. The first season I stated watching West Ham we lost 3-1 to 3rd division Swindon in a replay at this stage and it hasn’t got much better over the years (apart from 1975, 80 and 2006). I warned in the last OLAS that there might be some unexpected absences with “flu” against Baaarnsley and described how I was biting my nails waiting to see that Green, Noble and Bellamy would be on the field getting cup-tied. Well, there were all out there but dear, oh dear, where was Matthew Upson? He was out son. Down with “flu” or so they say… but as I write he is still with us, as are all our “stars” despite some silly money offers. Either the club is serious about a principled decision to hold on to its assets or they are waiting for offers in excess of £15million.
We have lost a couple of fringe players. I wonder if Mattie had a bet that he’s move on? He’s not been himself for a while so maybe a new start at Stoke will do him good. And Bowyer’s gone – but only on loan – to Brimingham. If it weren’t for the credit crunch I would have bought him myself and dumped him in the Midlands. Rumour has it that LBM may be on his way to Hull. Now readers of this column will know he is not my favourite player, but in the last few weeks he has shown more of what I thought he could do, and though I don’t really want to say it publicly, and please don’t tell anyone I said it, I think I want him to stay. But looking through the other end of the telescope I haven’t seen any stars heading this way either. We’re on a good run at the moment, sitting in the top half of the table. playing some sparkling football in patches, and this surely is the time to build in any way we can. I’ll be mighty disappointed if we can’t get another couple of players, even on loan, by the end of the month.
Next up in the cup, a trip to the North east again to Hartlepool famous for the hanging of a monkey during the Napoleonic wars, whoim they mistook for a French spy! (why couldn’t they just spank him?) and also notorious for its loathsome and haunting former MP, now Lord Mandelson. He was the one who, when he first stood for that constituency, popped into a chippie in Harlepool and asked for some guacamole having failed to recognise the gooey snot-like green formation as mushy peas! I used to eat this delicacy myself when I was a student in Leeds. I got them from our local chippie opposite the uni called “Sweaty Betty’s” which, for some odd reason. always made me think about sweaty balls. Anyway we have a great chance to progress to the fifth round and I fancy a home tie against a premiership team to spice things up.
Talking of the premiership, those august institutions - the Premier League and the FA want our bollox on a plate as Tevezgate re-opens. And this is serious. I guess a lot will depend on Kia who has wormed his way into the Upton Park set up. I think he is going to extract a lot of secret promises that are going to keep him quiet and earning a pretty penny for a long time for any assistance he can offer the club in keeping the FA sweet (note to readers: “FA sweet” is different to “sweet FA”). I suspect we may get hit for a further fine but I don’t think there will be a points reduction and this will almost be the end of the affair. Whatever outcome, it will force the Sheffield United claim to be dealt with. Let’s hope that no one at the club, whatever the temptation, is stupid enough to take us on that kind of adventure again.
But what are the guarantees? The only possible safeguard is accountability and transparency and that means a complete ovehaul of how the club is working at the moment. You wonder how much they even tell the chirpy little man, Zola. Still what Zola is getting the players to do on the pitch means that we are happy to focus there, and the players are apparently unfazed by it, but it will be a nagging worry until it is sorted.
So a tough game today. Welcome back to old faces, and welcome to Roy Hodgson who has a funny face. I always think he looks like a character from an old British movie. a kind of ordinary Joe who plods away saying ‘all right guv” when you pass. Bless him. The returning refugees and outcasts will be desperate to do well, none more so than Bobby Zamora. I won’t be surprised of he nabs a goal but I think we can nick it. It’s a New Year, time for a prediction. I’ll go 7-2. I should get good odds on that. Only joking. But a mini-goal fest ending 3-2 wouldn’t surprise me. with Bellers and Cole on target again. And maybe Collision too.
So on a cold Sunday in January I’ll be in the Doc Martens Upper waiting for, and expecting, every goal, And as the Stranglers also said “I can think of a lot worse places to be like down on the streets or down in the sewer, or even on the end of a skewer”...or up before the FA?
Let’s put that to one side today and remember East is East and West is West. Let’s show that East is the best. And by the way Leon Trotsky was murdered in Mexico in 1940 by agents of Stalin, though his book “Fascism what it is and how to fight it” remains a classic, and Brian Dear, the last I heard was running a pub. COYI!!!
Sunday, 18 January 2009
Saturday, 3 January 2009
The circus comes to town
OLAS 451 January 3rd 2009
People do have irrational fears. For some it’s spiders or earwigs. For others it’s facial hair or talking babies in films. Some people fear certain situations – like confined spaces or darkness. But one that I’ve always found it hard to get my head around is “Coulrophobia” – a fear of clowns. I love them but I know that not everyone does. And I’m well aware that one of the great voices of our times, Bart Simpson, famously said: “Can’t sleep, clown will eat me.”
After the Stoke game I feel I ought to issue a loud and clear warning to any coulrophobics out there to avoid Upton Park. The match was a 90-minute circus. End to end yes, but a circus nevertheless. Shambolic defending in both areas; promising moves breaking down by pathetically misplaced passes behind rather than in front of players; the referee sliding over; shots that would go anywhere but on target, Slowbear Faubert grinning inanely as he overlapped and even went round defenders only to plant his crosses somewhere in the upper stand; Carlton Cole at his profligate worst, then turning on a sixpence to plant a beautiful goal in the corner; and, of course, Stoke City’s unique contribution – players on the same team slapping and shoving each other (which the ref failed to see the funny side of). all they needed were some cakes to push in each other’s faces.
Clowns walk that tightrope and swing that trapeze between the extremes of happiness and sadness. Apparently this is the root cause of some of the fears about them. Their smile is not real but painted on (bet some of you didn’t know that) and you can only guess their “real” emotions. Well West Ham’s clowns confused and upset me a little bit against Stoke, and I don’t think I was the only one in the ground who, for most of the game, didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
At the final whistle though I was laughing like a drain. Three bizarre points popped into the bag. A player whose glittering international reputation was built on a series of spectacular strikes fell to his knees in joy after the ball bounced off him into the goal in the 88th minute. And suddenly we were back in the top half of the table. The news that Tottenham had lost 2-0 to the bottom club crowned the day. I laughed till the tears rolled down my legs.
Over the years I’ve become accustomed to West Ham, looking like a bunch of Christmas puds, struggling to pick up any points over the Christmas period, so 6 points from the two games this year is a real bonus and I’m pleased and relieved for Zola and Clarke. Even better, the points were gained at the expense of the right teams. It would have certainly been a wheeze to have won at Liverpool and Chelsea then drawn with Portsmouth and Stoke, but Liverpool and Chelsea are not our rivals in any meaningful sense, and it is much more useful to take points off the other teams struggling to pull clear of relegation worries.
So just over the halfway mark we find ourselves in 10th place, still only five points above the drop zone, but at the same time able to set our sights on dislodging the teams immediately above us – Fulham, Hull and Wigan – two of whom will visit Upton Park in January. Fulham are pulling off some impressive results, but player for player we should at least match them, and we won at Craven Cottage back in September. Hull are in a false position, still propelled by the adrenalin of promotion but running out of juice and they face a tough, tough second half of the season. Wigan are an enigma, a yo-yo side, capable of testing the best and struggling against the worst (bit like us really) but again we’ve already turned them over once this season.
The top six are established now and their mini-league is probably closed off to others for the rest of the campaign. Some people may be mildly interested who wins the title – I’m not, but I’d like to see Villa and Everton push the Arse into 6th place. Below them is one huge free-for-all where just 10 points separate 14 teams. And with the bottom team on 18 points at this stage, reaching 40 points may not prove enough to keep a team in the top flight. Every match from here on in, when any of these 14 teams face each other, is a relegation battle.
On the field, despite the dodgy win against Stoke, West Ham are definitely on an upward trajectory. Eleven points from the last seven games compares favourably with just two points from the previous seven. And with a bit of luck we might have got more. Unfortunately, it is off the field though that our fate will most likely be decided and here is where we might indulge in some collective coulrophobia – because who knows what stunts the clowns running this club of ours will pull next? Unlike cases of true coulrophobia, our fears are totally, totally rational.
If Gary’s source is accurate and every single player we possess is potentially up for sale during January, then all the efforts of the last few weeks to turn it around will come to nought. Our squad is lacking in quality, not blessed with an abundance of it, and letting go of any of our top players now for a quick buck would be suicidal.
The first indication of whether our fears are accurate will come today in the distraction of the F.A. Cup. If a couple of our star players are missing, don’t be fooled by the rationalisation that the Cup offers the chance to give some other squad players a run-out; and don’t believe any tales of players laid down low by flu or viruses. It’s bollox - because essentially it translates to: “These players are being transferred and the buyers refuse to meet the asking price if they are cup-tied.” Which is why I will be mighty relieved to see Bellend, Nobes and Greeny out there today, and why I suspect that at least one of them, possibly more, will mysteriously not appear.
Leaving my paranoia aside, a cup run would be a major boost during a difficult season. As Portsmouth showed last year, and we ourselves showed under Pardew, the cup can be a great leveller. Barnsley did well against top-flight sides last year and will be no pushovers. I’ve got a soft spot for Baaaaarnsleee – nothing to do with football though. It was the birthplace of great comedians like Harry Worth and Charlie Williams (ask your mum – she’ll remember them), singer/songwriter Kate Rusby and trade unionist/serial Thatcher-hater Arthur Scargill, which makes it a top location in my view.
Scargill may be a fanatical Leeds supporter and, yes, he did that annoying Bobby Charlton thing with his hair, but he knew what Thatcher was doing with the mines from day one. The mines have gone, and in many of the desolated villages left behind the only expanding industry today is selling heroin. Young empty lives lost to escapism from misery and unemployment while the demented old bat is still flitting about.
Now Charlie Williams was actually a professional footballer playing centre half for Doncaster Rovers before becoming a comedian. With great honesty he described his footballing prowess: “I was never a fancy player but I could stop them buggers that were.” He would have seen the irony last Sunday at Upton Park, where several comedians were masquerading as footballers. Let’s hope that today the emphasis is on serious fun and that we ensure a place in the fourth round draw. So here’s to a great 2009 where all our fears prove unfounded and our dreams don’t fade or die. See you at Wembley. COYI!!!
People do have irrational fears. For some it’s spiders or earwigs. For others it’s facial hair or talking babies in films. Some people fear certain situations – like confined spaces or darkness. But one that I’ve always found it hard to get my head around is “Coulrophobia” – a fear of clowns. I love them but I know that not everyone does. And I’m well aware that one of the great voices of our times, Bart Simpson, famously said: “Can’t sleep, clown will eat me.”
After the Stoke game I feel I ought to issue a loud and clear warning to any coulrophobics out there to avoid Upton Park. The match was a 90-minute circus. End to end yes, but a circus nevertheless. Shambolic defending in both areas; promising moves breaking down by pathetically misplaced passes behind rather than in front of players; the referee sliding over; shots that would go anywhere but on target, Slowbear Faubert grinning inanely as he overlapped and even went round defenders only to plant his crosses somewhere in the upper stand; Carlton Cole at his profligate worst, then turning on a sixpence to plant a beautiful goal in the corner; and, of course, Stoke City’s unique contribution – players on the same team slapping and shoving each other (which the ref failed to see the funny side of). all they needed were some cakes to push in each other’s faces.
Clowns walk that tightrope and swing that trapeze between the extremes of happiness and sadness. Apparently this is the root cause of some of the fears about them. Their smile is not real but painted on (bet some of you didn’t know that) and you can only guess their “real” emotions. Well West Ham’s clowns confused and upset me a little bit against Stoke, and I don’t think I was the only one in the ground who, for most of the game, didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
At the final whistle though I was laughing like a drain. Three bizarre points popped into the bag. A player whose glittering international reputation was built on a series of spectacular strikes fell to his knees in joy after the ball bounced off him into the goal in the 88th minute. And suddenly we were back in the top half of the table. The news that Tottenham had lost 2-0 to the bottom club crowned the day. I laughed till the tears rolled down my legs.
Over the years I’ve become accustomed to West Ham, looking like a bunch of Christmas puds, struggling to pick up any points over the Christmas period, so 6 points from the two games this year is a real bonus and I’m pleased and relieved for Zola and Clarke. Even better, the points were gained at the expense of the right teams. It would have certainly been a wheeze to have won at Liverpool and Chelsea then drawn with Portsmouth and Stoke, but Liverpool and Chelsea are not our rivals in any meaningful sense, and it is much more useful to take points off the other teams struggling to pull clear of relegation worries.
So just over the halfway mark we find ourselves in 10th place, still only five points above the drop zone, but at the same time able to set our sights on dislodging the teams immediately above us – Fulham, Hull and Wigan – two of whom will visit Upton Park in January. Fulham are pulling off some impressive results, but player for player we should at least match them, and we won at Craven Cottage back in September. Hull are in a false position, still propelled by the adrenalin of promotion but running out of juice and they face a tough, tough second half of the season. Wigan are an enigma, a yo-yo side, capable of testing the best and struggling against the worst (bit like us really) but again we’ve already turned them over once this season.
The top six are established now and their mini-league is probably closed off to others for the rest of the campaign. Some people may be mildly interested who wins the title – I’m not, but I’d like to see Villa and Everton push the Arse into 6th place. Below them is one huge free-for-all where just 10 points separate 14 teams. And with the bottom team on 18 points at this stage, reaching 40 points may not prove enough to keep a team in the top flight. Every match from here on in, when any of these 14 teams face each other, is a relegation battle.
On the field, despite the dodgy win against Stoke, West Ham are definitely on an upward trajectory. Eleven points from the last seven games compares favourably with just two points from the previous seven. And with a bit of luck we might have got more. Unfortunately, it is off the field though that our fate will most likely be decided and here is where we might indulge in some collective coulrophobia – because who knows what stunts the clowns running this club of ours will pull next? Unlike cases of true coulrophobia, our fears are totally, totally rational.
If Gary’s source is accurate and every single player we possess is potentially up for sale during January, then all the efforts of the last few weeks to turn it around will come to nought. Our squad is lacking in quality, not blessed with an abundance of it, and letting go of any of our top players now for a quick buck would be suicidal.
The first indication of whether our fears are accurate will come today in the distraction of the F.A. Cup. If a couple of our star players are missing, don’t be fooled by the rationalisation that the Cup offers the chance to give some other squad players a run-out; and don’t believe any tales of players laid down low by flu or viruses. It’s bollox - because essentially it translates to: “These players are being transferred and the buyers refuse to meet the asking price if they are cup-tied.” Which is why I will be mighty relieved to see Bellend, Nobes and Greeny out there today, and why I suspect that at least one of them, possibly more, will mysteriously not appear.
Leaving my paranoia aside, a cup run would be a major boost during a difficult season. As Portsmouth showed last year, and we ourselves showed under Pardew, the cup can be a great leveller. Barnsley did well against top-flight sides last year and will be no pushovers. I’ve got a soft spot for Baaaaarnsleee – nothing to do with football though. It was the birthplace of great comedians like Harry Worth and Charlie Williams (ask your mum – she’ll remember them), singer/songwriter Kate Rusby and trade unionist/serial Thatcher-hater Arthur Scargill, which makes it a top location in my view.
Scargill may be a fanatical Leeds supporter and, yes, he did that annoying Bobby Charlton thing with his hair, but he knew what Thatcher was doing with the mines from day one. The mines have gone, and in many of the desolated villages left behind the only expanding industry today is selling heroin. Young empty lives lost to escapism from misery and unemployment while the demented old bat is still flitting about.
Now Charlie Williams was actually a professional footballer playing centre half for Doncaster Rovers before becoming a comedian. With great honesty he described his footballing prowess: “I was never a fancy player but I could stop them buggers that were.” He would have seen the irony last Sunday at Upton Park, where several comedians were masquerading as footballers. Let’s hope that today the emphasis is on serious fun and that we ensure a place in the fourth round draw. So here’s to a great 2009 where all our fears prove unfounded and our dreams don’t fade or die. See you at Wembley. COYI!!!
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