Another 'Alternative' World Cup For Scotland

PARTISAN ALERT: This article is quite partisan.

"You might have beaten us lads, but that Ronaldo won't amount to much"

Unfortunately Scotland aren't going to the World Cup this year. Despite qualifying for six of the seven tournaments from 1974 to 1998, a tartan presence has been noticeably absent ever since. Doing what we have come to do best - that is, ignominious defeat against average European sides away from Hampden - has left the Tartan Army dining out on the meagre crumbs of comfort that we dredge up every four years: Archie Gemmill's goal in '78 and the fact that we were unofficially the best team in the world for a few glorious months in 1967. We laugh (eventually), because if we didn't, we'd probably end up invading Norway.

Our last major tournament was France ’98. Imagine how it felt to find out that we were opening against Brazil (a combination of elation, disbelief and the usual ironic despondency, if you’re interested). Imagine the jaws that dropped as John Collins equalised from the spot, then the colour of the air (fairly blue) when Tommy Boyd scored FOR them with his knackers. Imagine the reverberating echo of a million tins of Irn Bru being flung at some 100,000 cats. Then of course, we came home too soon, having been implored by Del Amitri (DEL AMITRI) not to, after a 3-0 embarrassment at the hands of African footballing powerhouse Morocco.

A close brush with European Championship qualification in 2008 quenched the thirst for big results and actually had us believing that come the World Cup qualifiers for 2010, we would have a decent crack at getting into at least a playoff. That was reinforced by the fact that we found ourselves in the continent’s smallest group, with the likelihood that FIFA’s mystifying rule on stripping other teams’ results against their group’s respective whipping boys would play into our favour. How reassuring then, as I alluded to above, that we could go and taste defeat in Macedonia and Norway, before failing to score (from two yards, in one case) against the latter at home and upsetting the country’s most clinical finisher to the point of retirement in the process.

Had it not come with the caveat of unexpected success in the Euro qualifiers, this would have been treated as a fairly routine failure. But Alex McLeish, having assuaged the nerves when Walter Smith left the manager’s job, had brought further progress in 2007/08 and we expected that to continue when he handed the reins to George Burley. Give the Tartan Army an inch of hope and the passion for the team means that it will take miles (no, I will not say how many). We still came quite close – down to the final game against the Dutch – but it wasn’t enough. The momentum gained under Smith and McLeish ground to a halt under Burley, who was mysteriously kept on for one game after the qualifiers, in which the Welsh thumped us 3-0 in a meaningless friendly. The nadir had been reached.

What’s happening at the SFA now is a similar period of introspection to that of England’s following their failure to qualify for the Euros in 2006. Craig Levein is in charge. Gordon Smith has (unfortunately) resigned. Most importantly of all, however, we beat the Czech Republic in a rehearsal qualifier for our Euro 2012 group. After the game, the mood in Scotland was odd. It didn’t really matter about the performance, because we won. But then, it didn’t really matter that we won, because it was a friendly. Pragmatism and perspective from the Tartan Army? Possibly.

Still, the 2010 World Cup is round the corner and we’ve had plenty of time to lick our wounds and critique our own. Now it’s time to relentlessly slate the English.

That’s a joke, of course. As a Scot in London, you have to expect plenty of Anglophilia. While I’ve got nothing against the team or the people, the country will be unbearable throughout the tournament. I’m sorry, but it’s true. Saturation coverage pervades every major tournament England are involved in and it always has. Personally, as an alternative I’m looking forward to the Group of Death. And the ‘new’ Brazil. The classy Spanish. The battle between exceptional Argentinean footballers and their manager.The Mexico squad with only five midfielders. The France squad with no strikers. I am of course extremely interested in how England get on, given their flimsy squad, but I also want to see the US do well in case anyone missed their Confederations Cup exploits last year.

Yes, I’m gutted Scotland aren’t there. It means that I won’t get to scream and drink myself stupid for three matches and then feel crap that we’re out. But the World Cup is the World Cup. It’s going to be incredible and besides, the qualifiers were ages ago (but I still remember, Chris Iwelumo). What’s not to look forward to? Rob MacDonald

The Forgotten Man

Joe Cole must be sweating ahead of the culling of seven from Fabio Capello’s party of 30. It has been a season to forget for the Chelsea playmaker. The most mercurial English talent in a generation has struggled with injuries and form and for all his side’s domestic domination, Cole has been afforded but a bit part, offering only rare glimpses of his undoubted flair.

The word ‘shackled’ springs to mind when Cole’s name is mentioned. Imagine the player we might have witnessed over the past 10 years had he gone to ply his trade at Old Trafford or the Emirates. He became a very well-rounded midfielder under the tutelage of Jose Mourinho, but the price paid was a blunting of his natural expansive game. Too much ‘off the cuff’ and Cole would be off the pitch. Mourinho himself conjured up the image that Cole had a duplicitous playing character, where his beautiful side was tempered by an ugly propensity to neglect the defensive aspects of the game. Had Cole been born Brazilian or Portuguese, surely such a lop-sided nature would have been nurtured; ‘Sod defending when he is this good going forward.’ But with prodigious skill seems to come the inevitable suspicion in the Premier League. He may be able to do a Maradona turn in a packed box, but he can’t put his foot in when it matters.

It is a curious position the 29-year-old finds himself with regards the national team. Cole was, in this observer’s eyes, the best English player in the last World Cup. Few of his peers could score a goal this good, for example. He now seems to have fallen behind Adam Johnson in the pecking order, with Capello waxing lyrical about the young Manchester City winger and probably wooed by the fact that some English midfielders do have a left foot and are actually quite good (not you Stewart Downing). But given the choice between an untested rookie who was plying his trade in the Championship at the turn of the year, and a reliable veteran on the international scene with 10 goals in 53 caps over nine years, the solution should be glaringly obvious.

Cole’s dip in form can perhaps be explained by the trouble encountered when he tried on and off to fit into a team that was already performing well without him. Offering something different to most of the Chelsea squad, Cole never managed to click. Moments of magic were fleeting, such as the innovative back heel at Old Trafford in April which reminded everyone that lest they forget, Joe Cole is actually a great player. On either flank or at the tip of a diamond, Cole’s flexibility would offer England that certain je ne c’est quoi they are going to need to forge openings against the Spains and the Brazils of this world. He has all the quality needed to have a successful tournament, and given Capello’s apparent reneging on his promise to pick on form (see Jamie Carragher, Steven Gerrard, John Terry, Rio Ferdinand, Emile Heskey), hopefully his heart will rule his head and the little maestro will be boarding the plane to South Africa. Adam Bushby

Land of Hype and Glory

If this was supposed to be the warm up game in which England proved they were ready to surpass expectations this summer, it disappointed. It is, however, unlikely that ‘surpass’ and ‘expectations’ were the words featuring on Fabio Capello’s list of things to achieve at Wembley last night, though ‘warm’ and ‘up’ were probably high on the agenda.

In light of the FA Cup and Championship Playoff finals’ ‘pitchgate’ issues, Capello may well have been happiest to escape the obligatory Wembley farewell with no significant new injuries. A slight neck strain for Wayne Rooney appears to be the only blemish. Ledley King’s knees and Rio Ferdinand’s back, the two biggest anatomical concerns on display, appeared to survive their respective excursions, even if it was with a relative paucity of mobility.

Most reactions to the game are suggesting that Capello has work to do, while seemingly forgetting that the game itself was part of the work. While the pre-match suggestion of a trial 3-5-2 system remained just that, the match was always going to comprise both England and Mexico XIs being tweaked and adjusted throughout.
In the first place, this was an England purposefully shorn of its double-winning Chelsea contingent. A starting eleven missing three of its most consistent (Frank Lampard, Ashley Cole and John Terry) and traditionally, one of its most inventive (Joe Cole) performers was always going to look disjointed. Lampard’s absence became all the more evident with Steven Gerrard also moved from the centre to roam from the left, but consequently provided little to no cover for a nervy Leighton Baines. In Gerrard’s absence, James Milner and Michael Carrick were handed the reins in midfield.

While form may be temporary, some losses are for a longer temporary period than others. Carrick seems to be suffering a lengthy dip and his at-times sloppy distribution contributed to England making a characteristically sluggish start. Milner, despite being full of industry, struggled to match the verve of the Mexican attacks and Walcott’s service to an increasingly aggravated Rooney was non-existent – a fact made all the more obvious by Aaron Lennon’s cameo.

A cameo was all that was reserved for Adam Johnson in the end too, while the other much-discussed potential debutant Michael Dawson did not feature at all. Both should play against Japan in Graz, but it seems an odd decision not to allow their first significant exposure to international football to be at Wembley. The pressure on both to perform in the final outing before the squad is announced will be higher than last night’s send-off at the national stadium.

Nevertheless, criticism of the England side seems unfounded. It would be a hard-hearted fan who could not forgive those being mindful of the Wembley pitch, but moreover, judgement on a mix-and-match England has been swift and harsh. Mexico may have looked the better side for most of the game, but an England side with notable absentees saw off its World Cup peer comfortably in the end – precisely the thing that those criticising Capello’s dearth of options below his starting XI would have you believe was England’s weakness. Capello is assessing his squad continuously and the warm up games are part of it. Those wishing to see the real World Cup-ready England will have to wait until Rustenburg on June 12th. Rob MacDonald

Van Gaal Or Nothing

At risk of overkill, this blog is turning its Sauron-like gaze away from Jose Mourinho to Louis van Gaal, the man who gave the Portuguese motormouth his big break at Barcelona.

Van Gaal found himself on the ropes earlier in the season. In early October, Bayern were struggling in fifth place in the Bundesliga, eight points off the top. In the Champions League, home and away defeats to Bordeaux ensured qualification for the knockout stages rested on a final round victory away at Juventus. The Munich mafia, led by Beckenbauer, Rummenigge and Hoeness, scented blood. Theirs is a results business, after all. And with Bayern on the verge of history, the turnaround at the Allianz Arena has been pretty remarkable.

Mourinho is not the only one who currently has treble vision. Van Gaal is bidding to become the first manager in Bundesliga history to secure the European Cup in the same season as winning both domestic honours. While the Inter manager’s penchant for narcissism consistently makes it hard not to talk about him, the Bayern boss approaches the game in a markedly different way. For both men, it is the philosophy rather than the system that is key; but the Dutchman’s methodology is more offensive in nature. You cannot manage Ajax and Barcelona without such a mindset. "We play very attractively at Bayern," Van Gaal has asserted. "We are always looking to attack and put opponents under incredible pressure." Expect more of the same in the Bernabeu. With Bayern facing a side perhaps less inclined to camp on the edge of the box due to the game being a one-legged affair, it could be a more open final than many predict.

Van Gaal has achieved this season’s success with what looks, on paper, to be a fairly pedestrian starting XI. It is how he has moulded his charges into a force on the European scene that has impressed most. Bastian Schweinsteiger and Mark van Bommel have provided a solid platform from which Bayern’s wingers can be unleashed. And unleashed them they have, with Arjen Robben experiencing such resurgence in form, particularly in Europe, that he is being mentioned as one of the world’s greatest attacking threats once again. Another two homegrown talents, Thomas Muller and Holger Badstuber, have found their feet under the stewardship of the Dutchman and both have made the step up to the first team look easy. And it is perhaps the discipline that Van Gaal instills that provides the best grounding for a career in the game. Preventing young rebels without causes to go off the rails with their newfound riches, Van Gaal has been known to pull players up for slouching in the canteen.

With this no-nonsense approach, the remarkably named Aloysius Paulus Maria "Louis" van Gaal has won out. He has no need to kowtow to the Munich mafia now after turning the corner so spectacularly since the darkest of autumn days. The death knell looked to have sounded for van Gaal’s Bayern career after he employed a mystifying 3-4-3 formation in defeat at Hamburg. Six months later, he is 90 minutes away from a glorious first season, having even reversed his decision to quit at the campaign’s end should Bayern secure the treble.

Survive though he certainly has this season, Van Gaal will need all his wiles to come through the inevitable onslaught from Inter in the final. With Ribery suspended, expect Turkish midfielder Hamit Altintop to step in. Having replaced Robben for the first leg against United, and been further to the fore as Bayern beat Lyon 3-0 in France, he may be crucial to Bayern’s chances again as Inter zero in on Robben and Philip Lahm on the right wing. Van Gaal must also hope that Bayern can keep hold of the ball, as although Badstuber is a promising defender in good form, Daniel van Buyten and Martin Demichelis are less consistent. For all the players involved though, meeting Mourinho’s irresistible force head on is potentially van Gaal’s biggest challenge.

It is the Bayern manager himself who perhaps sums up the clash of philosophies best: "He trains to win. I train to play beautiful football and win. My way is more difficult." That the obstacle to Bayern’s treble is his former apprentice – intent on winning at all costs – will make success for Van Gaal all the sweeter.

Hand of God, Random Squad

In a week that contained plenty of ‘surprises’ masquerading as surprises (Chelsea miss a penalty in a major final, a senior FA employee is the victim of a pretty lady and a national tabloid), the announcement of the provisional World Cup squads at least brought some genuine incredulity to proceedings. I’m not talking about England, either, for whom any lingering notion that Capello would pick players purely on form was quashed with few surprises. You can probably pick his starting XI against the USA right now, injuries permitting (go on then: James, Johnson, Ferdinand, Terry, Cole, Barry, Lampard, Gerrard, Walcott, Heskey, Rooney). Elsewhere around the world, the outrage expressed on behalf of Bobby Zamora in England was perhaps more suitably outpoured for the Argentineans not fortunate enough to make Diego Maradona’s squad.

Given that Maradona has called up around 100 players in the year and a half he has been in charge of the national team, perhaps predicting his squad was always going to be totally impossible. However, given what we know of the Champions League and Serie ‘A’ this year, for him not to find room for Esteban Cambiasso and Javier Zanetti – who has 136 caps – is particularly surprising.

The case for the defence rests even less easy when it transpires that Maradona has also omitted Barcelona centre back Gabriel Milito and included Fabricio Coloccini. Who plays for Newcastle (and since this article was written, has been dropped as the squad was trimmed from 30 to 23).

Actually, the situation is more than surprising. It is borderline unbelievable. The tributes that have flowed out of the San Siro for Zanetti following Inter’s fifth successive title – Moratti reckons it’s been his best season ever – are for a man who has played every minute of all but one match, for which he was suspended. He may be 36, but he can play all over the pitch and he is an experienced international defender. A falling-out has been speculated over since the final World Cup qualifier, in which Zanetti apparently gathered the team around him on the pitch and re-calibrated the side, dismissing Maradona’s earlier team talk. More reason than ever to include him, you might argue.

Inter’s Argentine defenders are represented solely by Walter Samuel, who hadn’t had a look in under Maradona until the March friendly against Germany, but has presumably been included only on that basis – one would think his outstanding form domestically has helped. By that line of thinking it is even more bewildering that in midfield, Esteban Cambiasso should miss out, given that he spent a season imperiously nullifying Italy and Europe’s best – Argentina’s great hope Messi included. Considering the form and domestic woes of Cambiasso’s direct peer, Javier Mascherano, this season, his omission is all the more surprising. However, the continued presence of Seba Veron at the expense of Juan Roman Riquelme should leave no-one in any doubt that Maradona, when faced with two choices, will invariably pick the wrong Juan. Links between defence and attack, should Veron’s legs go, are scarce.

Maradona’s career has become feted and questioned in equal measure over his preference for including Argentine-based players ahead of more illustrious European counterparts. Of the 96 players used by Maradona in the last 12 months, 52 are based in Argentina. All well and good, but amazingly, only five of the 52 (Juan Sebastian Veron, Ariel Ortega, Federico Insua, Martin Palermo and Clemente Rodriguez) have more than six caps and most, therefore, are new under Maradona. Of those five, Veron (age 35, 69 caps), Palermo (36, 13 caps) and Rodriguez (28, 11 caps) are in the provisional squad. The other seven Argentine-based players in the squad have a total of 19 caps between them and all appear to have sprung to prominence in recent friendlies against Spain, Costa Rica, Jamaica, Germany and Haiti. A rigorous selection process it is not.

Maradona is, however, blessed with a strike force the envy of the world. Argentina’s embarrassment of riches in the forward areas is the sole remaining reason, despite Maradona’s best efforts, that some believe they can still be tipped for the World Cup. Messi. Tevez. Higuain. Di Maria. Milito. Aguero. Awesome. Are they unstoppable? Potentially. Any lingering doubts about the frailties at the back could be vanquished if the ball can be kept at the other end of the field.

FIFA’s much maligned and probably useless rankings reckon Argentina are the seventh-best team in the world. However, they have not been beyond the quarters of the World Cup since 1990. That said, offsetting Maradona, football’s crackpot, are stellar striking options, fresh new caps who have been playing in their homeland in the build-up to an international tournament and capable, if unspectacular veterans. Once Maradona has been forced to settle on just 23, and maybe even despite his tactics, it would be a brave, but not necessarily foolish man who backed Argentina this summer. Focusing on the inclusions rather than the omissions may lead you to do just that. Rob MacDonald

Jose To Fill In The Blancos?

“Poverty wants much, but avarice, everything.” So said the Roman author Publilius Syrus. Fast-forward more than two millennia and the wise scribe may well have been talking about Real Madrid and their all-encompassing obsession with being the world’s most successful club. And so it has come to pass that for seven of the past 15 years, the Ballon d’Or winner has made his way to the Bernabeu, unable to move for all the bells and whistles. It is as if, season on season, the Real Madrid president, whoever he may be, takes his summer shopping list from France Football, buying into a marketing opportunity first and the concept of a player actually fitting into a system merely an afterthought.

This summer, were he a player, Jose Mourinho would almost certainly be first in line to get his hands on the golden ball. Having just tied up another Serie A title with Inter Milan, a week after winning the Coppa Italia, the Portuguese has his sights set firmly on the Bernabeu this weekend as he seeks to lift his first Champions League trophy since his days at Porto. Mourinho is already revered by Real fans for his bus parking job in the previous round, thus saving them from the frankly unthinkable travesty of having Barcelona trot out in the Champions League final (and worse still, win it) at the Bernabeu. Win or lose come Saturday, the assumption is that Mourinho is more than likely going to make the Bernabeu a home from home from the summer onwards as the Real board line him up as Manuel Pellegrini’s replacement.

At first glance, given the Madrid public’s voracious appetite for attractive football, Mourinho seems an unlikely choice to take the helm. But then again, the one trophy desperately sought by the fans is also the one you sense is also first on the list of Mourinho’s priorities each season. Compromise, therefore, seems to be the order of the day. The expansive football demanded by Real fans will certainly be evidenced next season, should Mourinho be in charge or not. With creativity the likes of that possessed by Cristiano Ronaldo, Kaka and Karim Benzema, Real Madrid are never going to do a Blackburn. Also, people are too quick to forget the early days of Mourinho’s tenure at Stamford Bridge, when Damien Duff and Arjen Robben ran defences rugged and were, by all accounts, pretty easy on the eye.

The insatiability of the handkerchief wavers at Real is two-fold; success, but by playing Barcelonaesque football. Under Mourinho, this rapacious mindset will need to be tempered as success at all costs becomes the new mantra. There will be glimpses of the sort of computer game ‘ole’ football so lauded at the Nou Camp but there will also be a greater discipline under Mourinho, of that there is no doubt. Given the choice between watching a Ronaldo flick or a Walter Samuel reducer, one gets the impression Mourinho would probably favour the latter. That isn’t to say he is a killjoy, however. Far from it. He just appreciates that to win, more is needed than sticking a team full of Galacticos onto the pitch and saying “get on with it”.

The size of the task at hand should not be sniffed at. In many ways, it is the most thankless task in world football. Mourinho will ostensibly be given no more than two seasons to bring the Champions League to the Bernabeu for the first time since the class of 2001/2. In the interim, an astonishing nine managers have come and gone (presuming Pellegrini goes as seems a dead cert). Indeed, Real have not got past the quarter final stage for four seasons. Quite why they have this preordained sense of entitlement to Europe’s biggest prize is strange to comprehend for most fans. But it is simply a fact of life Mourinho will have to embrace if he is to succeed. As if this wasn’t enough to contend with, it has traditionally been the president who cherry picks the new transfers. Cast your minds back and it wasn’t so long ago that Mourinho was locked in another power struggle with a hands-on owner.

Bearing all this in mind, should the Special One take over next season, the grit that has been noticeably absent from Real in recent seasons may well be thrown into the mix. Bells and whistles coated in grit; now that might just be the golden formula. Adam Bushby

Songs for Unsung Heroes

As Wayne Rooney walks off with a hat-trick of domestic awards and Didier Drogba tries to squeeze his foot into his golden boot a la Cinderella’s ugly sisters, there were a couple of managerial awards as well. Obviously, not everyone can win ‘manager of the year’ and while there’s no doubt that ‘Arry and Woy were thoroughly deserving, there are a few more who deserve a share of the plaudits.

At the top end of the table, Carlo Ancelotti unearthed a ruthlessness in Chelsea that may overflow on Saturday against Portsmouth. Credit to the Italian for a title (and potentially a double) in his first season in charge and for finally appearing to deliver what Abramovich lusts after, in the form of performances if not the ultimate European prize.

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, Chelsea were helped by United’s relative weakness compared with previous seasons, although I’ve also explained why Sir Alex Ferguson deserves a lot of credit – not many managers could shear two prongs off his striking fork and somehow pick up more peas – just ask Rafa Benitez, who had to watch his replacements scrabble for goals in light of injuries to Fernando Torres.

But to the unsung heroes. If the season had started at Christmas, Everton would be third. But if spurious statistics like that were relevant, the Lib Dems would have a quarter of all the seats in Parliament and we wouldn’t have a man [PARTISAN ALERT] with no relevant experience in charge of one of the most fragile economies in history.

However, David Moyes deserves some recognition, as he does each year, for his Everton side, particularly since those dark days at the start of the season. They began with a 6-1 pummelling at Arsenal and had won only five league matches coming into 2010. Unbeaten in the league in January, Moyes – assisted by a slight, but not total alleviation of the injury crisis surrounding the club which had left him with no strikers and perhaps more importantly, no Mikel Arteta – then oversaw victories over Man City, Chelsea and United in February. Following defeat away at Spurs on February 28, Everton went unbeaten for the rest of the season, clocking up six wins in the process. Should a fully-fit squad report for pre-season training, Everton should be relishing 2010/11.

Everton top a group of three who all deserve plaudits for their seasons. Ninth in the league , Birmingham fans are still pinching themselves while also daring to believe that further improvement is possible should Carson Yeung’s war chest be opened. The Blues are currently believed to be monitoring Bobby Zamora, who won’t be cheap.

Interest in Zamora and Kris Boyd, strikers both, isn’t a surprise given the manner of the performances which elevated Birmingham to their nose-bleedy heights for most of the season. Success has been built on a particularly obdurate defence. The now famous 12-game unbeaten run in the Premier League, spanning October to January, included six clean sheets with only eight conceded overall. It also included seven wins, five of them back-to-back in December/January. For all the praise lavished on him as Scotland manager, Alex McLeish could well cite his work at St Andrews for the last two years as the finest of his career so far.

If any criticism can be levelled at Birmingham this year, it’s that they weren’t necessarily easy on the eye each week. If you need any further proof that sometimes, the desire for results outweighs the pleasure of the aesthetic, just look at Jose Mourinho. And Sam Allardyce.

Allardyce was brought in to save Blackburn from relegation last season and did just that. When Mark Hughes finally got his wealthy hands on Roque Santa Cruz, Stephen Warnock went to Villa, Matt Derbyshire to Olympiakos and stalwarts Ooijer and Tugay were lost to Eindhoven and retirement respectively. A top-ten finish (albeit in tenth) with that considerable exodus and the arrival of a £6mn centre forward who has scored two league goals all season, deserves massive respect.

If strident defence, long-ball tactics, having Kevin Davies elbow centre backs in the face for 90 minutes and keeping 10 men behind the ball all game can be considered successful measures this season, so too can be exchanging all of them for a completely new team if you think you’re going to be on the receiving end of a shoeing at Old Trafford. Step forward Mick McCarthy.

Ask any promoted team what they want to achieve at the advent of a new season and the reply will be ‘survival’. Criticism of McCarthy, unfounded in the first place – it is the manager’s prerogative to rest his players ahead of big fixtures – ended up being especially sweet for Wolves as they beat the drop with something to spare. An away victory against Burnley in March heralded a ten-game run in during which Wolves also won away at West Ham and only lost twice. Wolves look more likely than Birmingham to suffer second-season syndrome, but McCarthy has proved as astute a manager as the one who drove Wolves to the Championship title in 2009.

Admittedly, the plaudits in this reflection are rewarded for those who have favoured substance over style (with the possible exception of Moyes). On a sanguine note, this approach appears to favour mid-table teams for whom the focus inherently remains below their feet rather than above their heads (honourable mention here for Stoke and Tony Pulis). ‘Footballing sides’ are yet to make waves in the Premier League unless, at the start of the ‘Champions League revenue/Big Four era’ they were already blessed with resources and talent to indulge such fancies. For those allowed to talk about football in terms of Europe, titles and trophies, it remains a world of hyperbole and cliché. Though it may be about as enjoyable to watch as shutting your fingers in a car door, for those always aware of resources and finance it is about finding ways to get the result you need in the game you need it in. It’s more business-like than ever in this part of the league and messrs Moyes, McLeish, Allardyce and McCarthy certainly earned their corn this year. Hats off. Rob MacDonald