A League Cup of their own

Birmingham City FC, 27 February 2011.

When mega salaries backfire

Remember the glaze-eyed mantra that you may have to pay mega salaries "if you want to retain top talent"? Yesterday England's superstars proved it's a load of absolute bollocks.

Three months ago, the papers quoted England coach Fabio Capello saying that "money is to blame" for the slew of scandals and off-field problems marring some of the Premier League star players.

What if, however, such ridiculous amounts of money were also at the root of England's spectacularly lacklustre World Cup performances?

The problem isn't so much that England are failing to win against much less celebrated teams. Surprise defeats or simple failure to bring home good results have always been part of football and in fact it's happening to other top teams too (some so far have done even worse than England).

Which is why what pissed off most viewers last night wasn't so much the nil-nil draw against Algeria, but the total lack of drive and determination seen amongst England players. They looked just pathetic. Their performance was dire, dull, uninspiring, directionless (more here). Almost aloof. They were hopping about as if it was a training session. The perception was that those top Premier League celebrities just couldn't be bothered.

Hands up if you didn't envy the sight of how enthusiastic and motivated the Algerians looked instead. They may have been less technically gifted, less popular and less used to top-flight football but, against the likes of Rooney, Gerrard and Lampard, they didn't struggle one bit. They actually played much better.

Which is why last night's football can serve as a light-hearted warning against the glaze-eyed free-market mantra that exorbitant wages are a must "if we want to buy or retain top talent".

Premier League salaries have quadrupled in the last ten years, growing much faster than their main European counterparts from Serie A, Primera Liga or Bundesliga (see chart). Figures range from Frank Lampard's annual £7m and John Terry's £6.75m to Wayne Rooney's basic salary of £4.5m.

With his £6.6m a year from the FA, coach Fabio Capello is by far the highest paid World Cup manager. Just imagine that the second best-paid one, Italy's Marcello Lippi, is earning less than half Capello's money to do exactly the same job.

Algeria's Rabah Saadane is on just over £240,000 a year - less than the amount Capello or most of his players make in a fortnight. But let's just say that, if we were to judge from last night's performance, we wouldn't have guessed.

Feel free to call it a crass comparison, but there are parallels between the City binges that led the country to the biggest crisis in sixty years and football's spiralling costs.

There comes a point where somebody can be rewarded too much for what they may (or may not) achieve.

Remember when Sir Fred Goodwin was paid £4.2 million including a £2.86 million bonus in 2007? Yet what the man did was simply preside over the biggest loss in UK corporate history. What are the incentives, where is the motivation, what is there to be feared, if even the most colossal fuck-up can be produce rewards so gargantuan that not even your great grandchildren will ever have to do a day's work?

Watching England's superstars half-arsedly gracing the world with their presence as they took on Algeria last night, you could be excused for suspecting that Rooney & co weren't going to lose any sleep regardless of the outcome.

Those young men have already been rewarded beyond belief. They are multi-millionaire supercelebrities that are routinely treated like royalty wherever they go. In the event they feel a bit low (i.e. in case their pin-up girlfriend catches them red-handed with a fellow model) they can console themselves with yet another Ferrari or private yacht.

Could it simply be that stratospheric salaries can actually produce counterproductive outcomes?

Wayne Rooney's pig-headed criticism of booing from fans ("Nice to see your own fans booing you. If that's what loyal support is ... for fuck's sake", he blasted after the game) was further indication of how distorted those spoilt kids' perceptions have become.

Perhaps bingeing on £90K a week from Man Utd plus extra millions from Coca Cola, EA games and others really persuaded the young star that there should be nothing other than adulation and "loyal support", no matter how embarrassing their performance.

So perhaps the best chances of success in four years' time won't come from an even richer contract handed out to Capello's successor or masturbatory headlines about "the Spirit of '66" and Premier League superstars up there with the Brazilians, the Argentinians or the Italians.

Simply leave home the Rooneys, the Lampards and the John Terrys and give less celebrated First or Second Division players the privilege of representing their country instead. Guaranteed they'll try harder and play with some passion. And perhaps even stand a chance of actually winning something.

Robert Green gives immigrants a breather

The tabloids have stopped ranting against immigrants, evil foxes, social workers and the EU. That's because they have a new obsession: England's goalkeeper.

Unless you spent the weekend in outer space you may have heard that a clumsy mistake by untested goalie Green cost England the victory in their opening World Cup game against the US.

If an external observer were to make a guess on the basis of newspaper coverage, they would probably conclude that Green's clanger got England knocked out. Or maybe that it cost them the semi-final, the final or even the World Cup itself. Instead, it was only a 1-1 draw in the opening game.

Yet - as usual - hysteria and hyperactivity is reigning supreme amongst England's red tops.

For once though, the target is not immigrants, asylum seekers, social workers, killer foxes or the EU. It's Robert Green.

The country's "patriotic" tabloids are obviously unaware that all the pressure they're now cooking up is going to make the goalkeeper - and the whole team too - even more self-conscious and nervous. This, rather than Green's blunder on Saturday, may result in an early flight home.

Take a look at them.

The Sun dug up Green's sentimental past. In a piece called 'Robert Green: I've let nation down' (one of the many about the West Ham player), the tabloid happily announced that the goalkeeper "let his gorgeous girlfriend slip through his fingers just weeks before the South Africa tournament began". The report comes with a picture of his ex-girlfriend in a bikini.

The Daily Mail, still revelling in the BP-related Britain-v-US diplomatic spat, gives extra coverage to the so-called internet viral about "Soccer and oil spills" .

As it does its bit to keep the atmosphere calm and level-headed, the Daily Mail sports the headline 'James furious at Fabio Capello over World Cup opener snub', even though the article does not contain a single quote, not even a second-hand one, to support the story. Other pot shots at Robert Green include 'No excuse! Robert Green can't even find friends in the goalkeepers' union' and 'Calamity! Robert Green faces England axe after his howler hands Americans a draw'.

As for the Express, their stories are: ROBERT GREEN PLAYS GOLF AND FINDS A BALL GAME HE CAN GET TO GRIPS WITH and ROBERT GREEN SQUIRMS AS ENGLAND FLOP IN USA GAME.

The Mirror is host to 'The Rob Green debate'; "Drop or keep?" is the paper's big question, amongst revelations that the goalkeeper is "pleading for a second chance".

No pressure, eh?

Heysel: 25 years ago

A look back at the tragedy that changed football forever.

I was around seven or eight when I decided football was to be my favourite sport. I'm pretty sure I was still totally unaware of the technicalities of the game, but around 1983 I started developing a fascination for football kits and, of course, the game itself.

By the end of the 1984-85 season, I remember looking forward to the European Cup (now known as the Champions League) final between Liverpool and Juventus that was to be played in Brussels.

I was really excited. To me, that was the best of all possible worlds, English football vs Italian football. What was back then the best British team taking on Italy's most prestigious representatives. I hated Juventus with a passion (my favourite Italian team was Roma, I never understood why), so I was truly hoping for Liverpool to mop the floor with Platini & C.

I was at home with my mum and we turned the telly on. The match wasn't on yet, but it didn't look like the usual build up to a final. There were live scenes on telly I'd never seen before, certainly not associated with a football match. The pitch was all messy, the whole thing was all over the place with people running about and lots of mounted police and what looked like officers in riot gear.

As minutes went by, we gathered from what the commentators were saying that something had not gone according to plan.

I can't remember much anymore after twenty-five years, but it felt like forever until the match started. I still recall the two capitains, Phil Neal and Gaetano Scirea, making a public announcement asking for supporters to calm down so that the game could go ahead. Everything was so surreal.

In the heat of the moment I don't think the scale of what later emerged was clear and, to this date, both sets of players deny they were aware of what was going on otherwise they wouldn't have played.

I don't know exactly at which stage the viewers were informed that many people had been killed prior to the game and that many more were injured, but I distinctly remember feeling really disturbed. I thought that football was just the most exciting sport, and that such a huge final could only be a big occasion to celebrate. My brain had not yet made the connection that football could also bring on primeval levels of violence and confrontation.

The telly showed the images of a collapsed concrete wall, crushed people and various scenes of despair and devastation. People, friends, dads with their kids had travelled all the way to be part of a historical event. Little did they know.

What happened proved a watershed moment in European football. UEFA finally vowed to clean up their act and never again allow matches to be organised under such shambolic circumstances. On their part, the British authorities finally decided to clamp down on the worst aspects of terrace culture. The rules of football policing changed forever and, credit when due, British stadiums are now way safer than in most European countries.

Yet, back to May 29 1985, several factors concurred to provoke the worst tragedy in the history of international football.

First. The mid-Eighties represented the peak of English hooliganism. By 1985 the behaviour of hardcore English fans had become intolerable, with trouble erupting both at domestic games and in Europe. With hindsight, Heysel and -though through different dynamics - Hillsborough were simply accidents waiting to happen.

Two. In selecting Heysel as the venue, UEFA got it seriously wrong. The stadium was falling to bits and was clearly unfit for purpose. Both the pitch and the structure were in desperate need of maintenance work, walls and chicken wire fences segregating different sectors were clearly decrepit and the crumbling stands so battered that bricks and other potential missiles were readily available.

Three. The ticket allocation had gone terribly wrong. Sure, the two sets of organised fans were placed at the two opposite ends, but the one bit right next to some of the most confrontational Liverpool fans was a so-called "neutral" section", the infamous section "Z", thinly policed and naively intended for Belgian people. Except that it was never going to work. Many non-organised Juventus fans (i.e. expats or families and people travelling individually) had managed to get hold of tickets for section Z from touts, meaning that they were only yards away from hardcore Liverpool supporters.

Four. Policing was absolutely inept. Officers and stewards were not present in sufficient numbers and thousands of people got into the ground with the stub still on their ticket.

Five. No precautions had been taken in spite of warnings that English supporters had sworn revenge after a number of Liverpool fans got assaulted in Rome the year before. There is evidence that some of the most unsavoury elements at Heysel were not only Liverpool supporters but also contingents from other English firms looking to get their own back against the Italians (even though supporters from Juventus and Roma absolutely detest one another).

About an hour before kick-off, groups of Liverpool fans started charging towards section Z. This was typical of football disturbances of the time, when hooligans would literally try and take over "enemy territory".

With nowhere else to go, the people standing in section Z retreated towards the perimeter wall at the back with the result that a huge number of fans ended up being crushed. Many suffocated or got severely injured, but the worst happened when the wall collapsed under the sheer pressure of fleeing supporters and dozens were trampled underfoot.

In total 39 people died (32 Italians, 4 Belgians, 2 French and a man from Northern Ireland) and over 600 were injured.

Belgian police took half an hour to arrive, but just in time to stop the Juventus "ultras" from the opposite end of the stadium seeking revenge as news of the massacre began to circulate. Riots followed and the kick-off was delayed.

Controversy lingered on for years as both sets of players were criticised for starting the game in spite of the appalling circumstances. In particular, Juventus players took a lot of stick for publicly celebrating their 1-0 victory when they should have kept a more sombre approach.

Two days after the events, Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher didn't have to try very hard to talk UEFA into banning all English teams from European competitions. She returned immediately from an official visit abroad and declared: "There are no words, there are no possible justifications: the blame is entirely for England".

For five years (and seven for Liverpool), no English teams whatsoever were allowed to contest the European Cup, the Cup Winners' Cup and the UEFA Cup, with the result that the Premier League took years to recover both in terms of attracting top players and international reputation. From being the dominant force in European competitions in the late 1970s/early 1980s, English teams suffered some difficult years, having to wait until 1999 to lift a European Cup again.

When I look at photos of what happened on that night twenty-five years ago, I still get goosepimples. For all attempts at rationalising hooliganism and football violence, it remains the most disarmingly braindead manifestation of mankind.

The 'siege mentality' of nationalism

The tabloids are unable to deal with patriotism without turning hysterical: the equivalent of an aggressive pisshead unable to handle his drinks, convinced that they're all looking at him funny.

Why can't people just be proud of their country and their flag without having to turn their nationalism into a brain-dead Neanderthal-like fetish based on paranoia and "siege mentality"?

Like clockwork, with each World Cup or Euro Championship comes the urban myth based on some grand anti-English design or some hollow conspiracy theory whipped up by tabloids for the populace to consume.

The fact is, an alarming number of Brits are happy to be treated like imbeciles the moment there's a whiff of international football in the air.

And so you may have heard of the current uproar surrounding the myth that police are trying to ban England football shirts and flags in pubs and public places during the World Cup.

The rumours appear to have been kickstarted by (make a wild guess) the Sun when they published an article under the header "Bid to ban England tops in World Cup pubs".

Anyone with more than a brain cell would have detected that the headline had nothing to do with the facts. The article itself refers to none other than "suggestions" sent by the Met to a few pubs in Croydon with a history of football-related disturbances. Just a couple of non-compulsory tips about hiring security staff and introducing dresscode restrictions (see Tabloid Watch for a better analysis).

Yet the frothing at the mouth took no time to kick in. Several Facebook groups (see here, here and here for a sample) were set up before you could even utter the word "idiot" and, like dogs who've just been ordered to sit, lie down, bark and run, people started spewing up disturbing amounts of online rage, working themselves up against not just the "PC brigade" and "elf & safety" killjoys, but also immigrants (see this delightful group called "if our england tops am banned your sari should b2")!

And yet police forces up and down the country have been stepping forward to dispel the myth. Staffordshire police said that "there is no truth in [the rumours] whatsoever", while West Midlands Police denied that there is any directive whatsoever about a ban. A spokesperson dismissed the rumours as "nonsense".

But, no. That's not enough. The Sun seems to be unable to show its "patriotic" credentials without having to whip up more imbecilic siege mentality. They just can't do it, can they?

And so the tabloid decided to produce the headline Ooh-arr ya? Cornish ban England flags. Except that no such thing ever happened in Cornwall or elsewhere. The Sun just concocted the headline on the basis of a Facebook group comprising 55 people and a quote from a man representing the minute Cornish separatist movement. That became Cornish ban England flags. You can only imagine the outrage amongst Sun readers.

Today the Daily Mail joined in with the words "Clampdown: Workers are increasingly being banned from flying England flags", based on two stories about a private refuse collection firm in Liverpool and taxis in Canterbury not being allowed to wave flags for visibility reasons. Nevermind the taxi firm made it clear that "[they] have been fully supportive of [taxi drivers] wearing England shirts", the Daily Mail insists it's a "clampdown on public patriotism".

Again, siege, threats, bans, enemies, paranoia: the equivalent of an aggressive pisshead unable to handle his drinks - as he works himself up that everyone's looking at him funny.

John Terry and family men

Don't those talks of "shaming the country" ring a bit hollow?

The John Terry saga seems to have finally come to an end. Yesterday's meeting with England coach Fabio Capello resulted in the captaincy being taken away from the 29-year-old Chelsea defender.

The Daily Mail, who sweated with excitement throughout the scandal, are saluting the event with this epic headline: "Grazie Signor Capello: After days of dithering by the FA, it takes an Italian family man just ten minutes to sack captain who shamed England".

And yet, as the Gospels would tell you if they'd been re-written in the 21st century, let the Premier League player who is without sin kick the first ball.

Because John Terry may have been involved in one too many a shady thing, but a quick look at his colleagues is hardly an example of Daily Mail-sponsored righteousness and family life.

The football world has an astonishing capacity to instantly sweep sordid crap under the carpet, but together Premier League stars have crashed more cars than a whole series of Crash Bang Wallop, joined more orgies than the whole porn industry and gambled more money than the whole of Las Vegas.

Not many for instance remember the mega "party" that Man Utd players organised two years ago. The Mail themselves noted that Terry's potential successor as captain, Rio Ferdinand, "once participated in a homemade video of an orgy while on holiday in Cyprus". Some may even remember his eight-month ban in 2003-4 for failing to attend a drug test.

So who's going to "set a good example for the kids" then? Wayne Rooney? Frank Lampard? Steven Gerrard? Ashley Cole? Any suggestions? Until the next one gets caught?

Perhaps it would be just better (and easier) if the papers simply ditched those hollow talks of football players "setting examples for the kids" or "being role models". Just knock the sanctimony on the head, stop fooling yourselves and treat it for what it is. An entertaining game played by superoverpaid young men on a massive power trip.

Ghost goal of the century!

Forget the 1966 World Cup final, Diego Maradona's 'hand of god' in 1986 or Thierry Henry against the Republic of Ireland last November.

Look what happened during Duisburg v Frankfurt in the German Bundesliga2 and decide for yourself whether the picture on the left was a goal. The referee had no doubt.

(Click here for the full video).

You cheat, you win

They say football is a reflection of society. It certainly proved so last night.

I made a vow that Hagley Road to Ladywood shouldn't be about football. As tempting as it may be, it just wouldn't particularly fit in with the blog.

Today, however, there's going to be an exception. As you may have overheard already, following yesterday's play-off match against France, Ireland didn't make it to to the World Cup. A blatant handball by French striker Thierry Henry proved crucial.

Henry owned up to it and apologised, which is commendable. Too late, however. France's goal left Ireland little time to reply and proved decisive.

Now, given that the video evidence is blatant and that Henry himself said it was handball, FIFA should take heed to what the Irish FA are saying and order a replay of the match. Surely the French too would rather qualify in less controversial fashion.

Above all, if the result stands and cheating gets the official stamp, any future 'Fair Play' campaign as sponsored by FIFA or UEFA would simply look like an absolute joke. Just look at the official FIFA Fair play webpage.

"The generic concept of fair play is a fundamental part of the game of football", it says, adding that: "The Fair Play Campaign was conceived largely as an indirect result of the 1986 FIFA World Cup™ in Mexico, when the handball goal by Diego Maradona stimulated the admirable reaction of the England coach, Sir Bobby Robson".

Also: "Children need strong values to grow up with, and football, being a team sport, makes them realise how essential discipline, respect, team spirit and fair play are for the game and for life".

Well, then?

In praise of...Paolo Maldini

A football legend retires

I was only 8 when Paolo Maldini made his professional debut aged 16. It was 1985 and the international press were already taking notice of AC Milan's new wonderkid. Imagine how long ago that was that one of Maldini's senior teammates at Milan was Ray Wilkins, a guy who's been assistant coach at Chelsea for something like a whole century.

Those were the days when players would stick with the same team for longer than just a year or two. Today you get people like Scott Sinclair who start their season at Charlton Athletic and end it at Birmingham City via a brief loan spell at Chrystal Palace. But even by yesterday's standards, Paolo Maldini's career is a spectacular achievement.

In spite of one lucrative offer after the other, he chose to spend his entire career at one club only: AC Milan. It was at San Siro that Maldini survived the biggest changes in the game: clubs turning into tycoon-owned profit machines, TV rights taking over, the Bosman rule and the radical changes in eligible foreign players, the adoption of those stupid 0-99 numbers, the growing athleticism of the game.

And yet, he always remained at the top - discreet and elegant, focused and professional. In spite of looks that could have landed him a Hollywood career, Maldini never went for the primadonna path. When you look at today's brats and their antics (Cristiano Ronaldo or Ashley Cole, to name but two), you appreciate the value of Maldini's composure.

The AC Milan star won everything he could have hoped for, including a staggering 5 Champions Leagues and 7 Serie A titles. He won 126 Italy caps (an all-time record), coming close to lifting the World Cup in 1994 when he lost on penalties to Brazil.

Now 41, Paolo Maldini is calling it a day. It's a reminder, perhaps that we shouldn't take familiar faces for granted. Bear that in mind next time you think Ferguson is a bit of one.

Hillsborough and the Sun

Today marks the 20th anniversary of the Hillsborough tragedy and the most vulgar moment in the Sun's (in)glorious history.

If you bought the Sun today with the sole purpose of giving your right hand some inspiration, then you may want -just this once- to trade it with the Daily Star. Here's why.

This morning the Sun asked the whole nation to remember the 96 victims of Hillsborough on the 20th anniversary of the doomed FA Cup semi-final between Liverpool and Nottingham Forest.

What the best-selling red top doesn't mention, however, is that Britain's worst football-related memory also coincided with the paper's most vulgar moment - and that's after considering the industrial amounts of trash the country's favourite tabloid cooks up every day.

You may already be aware that the Sun don't shy away from milking a story or even making one up altogether. It's happened plenty of times. Anything to make some extra cash, and who gives a flying one if lives are destroyed or reputations mangled.

But that the Sun could do that on the back of the worst tragedy in contemporary British history was a shock for everybody, including the most cynical amongst ourselves. In case you were too young to remember, editor-in-chief Kelvin MacKenzie masterminded a front page headline "THE TRUTH", along with claims that that some Scouse fans picked the pockets of crushed victims and urinated on members of the rescue services as they tried to help.

Within days it became clear that the 'outrageous' story had been totally fabricated. The police said it was bull and so did the thousands of witnesses. Harry Arnold, the reporter who wrote the story, later made it clear that Kelvin Mackenzie was fully aware that the Sun's allegations were impossible to substantiate.

Still, as recently as two years ago, on the BBC's Question Time, MacKenzie (still at the Sun) said, "I was not sorry then and I'm not sorry now" for the paper's coverage. What an arse.

The hundreds of newsagents in Liverpool who are still refusing to stock the Sun haven't forgotten.

Money makes you a better person

You've heard it all about the abysmal behaviour of dole scroungers. Why not look at our wealthy football players for examples of righteousness and good conduct?

2008 was the year the Sun, the Express and the Daily Mail all held an unprecedented barrage of criticism against the country's "underclass". Feral beasts, dole scum, welfare addicts. "Welcome to Britain, land of the rising scum...", and that's just Richard Littlejohn in the Mail. If you live in one of Britain's deprived council estates, the tabloids' theory goes, you're going to become a scumbag. A drug addict, a joyrider, maybe a rapist, possibly a child murderer too.

Money changes your behaviour, doesn't it? Presumably then, the more dosh you make, the more flawless a young man you become. For evidence, we decided to take a peek at some of the wealthiest young men in the country, Premier League football players. Their credentials are impeccable, almost a Thatcherite wet dream: these are self-made young gentlemen who, thanks to their skills and abilities, joined the ranks of Britain's millionaires and earned the respect of legions of admirers. They're not sponging, they're not asking the state for help, and they're making such a massive amount of money that nowadays most boys' dream is to become a Premiership footballer and most girls' to be a WAG and long live feminism.

Statistics say that in 2007, the average Premiership footballer earned over £1m a month, the equivalent of £200,000 a week. Most Britons could dream of making that in a whole decade.

What follows is that the sheer load of incidents, "infidelity issues" and anti-social mishaps that are plaguing footballers outside the pitch must be either proper bastard bad luck or a big conspiracy of the envious plebs. Because the ratio of professional players having a brush with the law is truly staggering yet only a loonie leftie would relate it to wealth-induced power trips.

Look at it. Three days ago Man City star Robinho, the man who cost £32.5m in the summer so that he could kick balls into a net, was "arrested over ‘rape in nightclub’ claims". Only weeks before, World Player of the Year Cristiano Ronaldo's rebellious £200,000 Ferrari crashed into a wall. Shit happens, doesn't it?

Except it wasn't the first time. Last year, another one of Ronaldo's cars (he has a fleet of luxury motors said to be worth more than £2million), a precious Audi R8 decided to spin 180 degrees on his way home. Also, few remember when some ungrateful money-hungry bitches grassed him up to the police for "carrying out an assault in the penthouse suite of a luxury West End hotel" in 2005. Cristiano denied it all, claiming he was being "stitched up", showing a fine display of linguistic skills as well.

For the record, Ronaldo's namesake, the Brazilian Luis Ronaldo, formerly of Real Madrid and AC Milan, was also arrested in 2007 after an altercation with transvestites at a Rio de Janeiro motel.

Back to dangerous driving, last year a 25-year-old Plymouth footballer turned into a child killer as two young boys became victims of his reckless driving. In 2005, former wonderkid Jermaine Pennant was jailed for three months. He "crashed his top of the range Mercedes into a lamppost while more than twice the legal limit, then drove off with the post dragging underneath the car". He admitted drink driving, driving while disqualified and driving without insurance. The one who got the worst deal though was former West Brom's Lee Hughes, who served three years for causing death by dangerous driving. He then fled the scene to avoid a breath test.

But it's not just their driving skills under scrutiny. Do you remember the infamous 2007 Christmas party that got the entire Manchester United squad in the papers? The players' WAGS had been banned. But to avoid accusations of sexism, the players invited over one hundred women. "Booze, fights, sleaze and a rape", wrote the Daily Mail, while the Mirror joked that the 'Red Devils' "lived up to their nickname as they knocked back booze and snogged girls at a riotous Christmas party". One of them, Wayne Rooney, was so honest that he'd already admitted visiting "massage parlours and prostitutes". "I was young and stupid", he said. As far as youth and stupidity goes, he's in good company. Allegations of sexual assaults amongst football players are as 'common' as sovereign rings in an Argos catalogue. In 2003, Leeds Utd's Jody Morris was charged with rape, while last year Andy Cole was arrested after an alleged assault on his wife.

And then there's the brawls. The general public just can't leave those young men alone. Last month, Liverpool captain Steve Gerrard spent a whole night in jail following an assault at a nightclub in Southport. In 2000, Leeds Utd's Lee Bowyer and Jonathan Woodgate were sentenced following a street attack on an Asian student. In 2006, Rio Ferdinand's brother, West Ham Utd's Anton was arrested in a nightclub attack. More recently, Newcastle's Joey Barton was jailed for six months after admitting assault and affray outside a McDonald's. And let's not get started on Gazza Gascoigne.

This is only a tiny fraction of the big conspiracy against our football players. No doubt it's mostly a case of greedy members of the general public trying to sell their stories to tabloids. Because if you google the words "footballer car crash", "footballer arrested", "footballer rape charges", "footballer assault", your computer crashes under the sheer load of results.

Also see 'Benefits make you evil'

Rio Ferdinand and other economic variables

Or why we should feel "intensely relaxed" about the minimum wage

Are those stratospheric wages just too much? Nah. Weren't you told to lighten up? You too should feel "intensely relaxed about the filthy rich". Why not cherish the notion that you too could become one of them, holidaying on Flavio Briatore's yacht, spending your days shopping Sex and the City style, shagging a WAG or looking like one, splashing out on your credit card, perhaps even ending up talking about your shopping spree on Heat magazine. Footballers' wives, the Dream Team, Essex Wives, who would not want to be part of that but a few brow-raising tree-hugging losers?

Joan Smith, in yesterday's Independent, nailed it right on the head. Commenting on Rio Ferdinand's recent remarks (in which poor innocent Rio compared pre-Capello England to 'a circus' centred around WAGs and celebrity culture), the columnist reminded us of how the whole past decade has been fuelled by the arrogance and hedonism of a few demi-gods.

We were told that Jonathan Ross's £18m pay deal was justified by "the need for best talents" or that, "sorry but" Ashley Cole earning £90,000 a week was the going "market rate". Now, for the first time in years, a vague notion that absurd salaries should be capped is starting to creep in.

Here's what Joan Smith wrote: "We could start with untalented, overpaid TV presenters, and Premiership footballers whose salaries exceed the health budgets of some African countries", adding -wisely- "I can't see that this aspect of their behaviour is so different from the City culture which has brought one British bank after another to its knees".

Take Ashely Cole's £90,000 (sponsorship deals and perks not included) a week or the £1.29m yearly salary (bonuses not included) for the former Royal Bank of Scotland CEO. Compare them with the minimum wage introduced at £3.60 in 1999 and currently standing at £5-73 an hour. One of the above-mentioned variables, the Tories and the Confederation of British Industry said, would cripple the economy. Which in particular, I'll leave it to the reader to work out.

They Nabbed his toys

Geezer Andy McNab and his problem with men crying

Out of the tons of articles written in the wake of the legendary all-English Champions League final between Man Utd and Chelsea, the award for the most mental goes to a piece penned by Andy McNab. The platform, of course, was none other than the Sun, the tabloid that can always be relied upon for mind-boggingly equal dollops of lairiness and uprightness - in the same go. Oh, the Sun. Who else would drop the bombshell revelation that "Man Utd players spent all night celebrating"?

Referring to John Terry's inconsolable tears after his slip-up in last Wednesday's penalty shoot-outs, the headline was: "Is it ever okay for sportsmen to cry?". Enter Sun Security Adviser Andy McNab's. "NO" was his retort. "They become exposed for the wimps that they really are", the hardman wrote, "[T]here's too much of this emotional stuff", and "[T]he pitch should be the place where men are men", rounding it off with "I tell you this - you wouldn’t find any of Terry's blubbing antics in the SAS".

It's hard to resist the temptation to suggest the man must have had his toys locked away when he was a kid. More to the point, no doubt McNab is also of the opinion that cooking is the "wench's" biological duty. Unless, of course, it's a burly barbecue we're talking about. Or raw meat. Preferably heated up under the saddle, between the horse and the man. That's what the elite forces get to eat in the Burmese jungle. Where men are men.

Champions of style - Part one

If you thought David Beckham was the one that brought style into football, think again. Take a look at ten of the biggest trendsetting footballers that ever graced the world's pitches before his time. Brought to you by Nike Hair Max.


Rudy Voeller
Peter Beardsley
Kevin Keegan
Rene Higuita
Valderama
Ray Wilkins
Walter Zenga
Chris Waddle
Barry Venison
Alexi Lalas

Home crowd? In the Far East

Fancy a bit of Derby County vs Newcastle? Brace yourself for a long, expensive flight - by Stan Moss

Less than two months ago, Sir Alex Ferguson hit out at the comatose state of Man Utd supporters, no passion, no commitment, just a new kind of audience looking for a lovely day out. This week the bigwigs from the Premier League called their bluff .

A 'genuine people's game'? Local roots and atmosphere? Well, in case you wondered, a meeting of the 20 top clubs agreed to explore staging an extra-match a season that would be played in a city in Asia, North America or the Middle East. It is not clear yet how the idea is to be finalised but the proposals on the table suggested each club playing 39 games (hands up those who can figure out how that would work), with a draw to pick out each side’s overseas match.

The aim? Raking up extra millions. The English football "market" (or its "brand value", that's how they refer to it now) is saturated so hail the 21st century version of English colonialism.

If you are one of those fans wishing the ‘bubble’ would burst and the people’s game would return, you'd be better off resting your case. Nothing can stop the lethal mix of football and big money.

Yes, the Premier League chief executive was keen to go on record with routine blather like "it is critical we retain our English character by improving our efforts to produce homegrown talent, deepening our commitment to community engagement and continuing our investment in the grassroots". But somehow there's a hollow ring to it; they haven't cared for the last fifteen years so why would they now?

Uefa boss Michel Platini cracked it: "In England, you already have no English coach, no English players and maybe now you will have no clubs playing in England. It's a joke", he said.

Turnstiles that make them hostile

Time for UEFA to ban Turkish teams?

The deeds of British hooliganism from the 1970s up until Euro2000 are well documented. It's a sad fact that Brits become socially inept when in the throes of alcohol, and in as much as it’s typical of ‘geezer-culture’ to cowardly play down the disgrace that hooliganism represents (and how much it lets down the perception of the country abroad), this time the complaint about double standards isn't far-fetched.

On Wednesday night Istanbul was the venue of World Cup play-off Turkey-Switzerland. Turkey lost and the appalling scenes at the end of the match have been shown all around the world with players, stewards and supporters alike embarking upon a depressing free-for-all of violence.

Now, the 1985 Heysel tragedy is etched in my brain as little short of a childhood trauma. I was only a kid infatuated with football and as I tuned in to watch Juventus vs Liverpool, the European Cup Final, it suddenly clicked that people can get murdered because of football. On that occasion, English teams were deservedly handed a five-years ban and it’s about time -and only fair- that Turkey now receive similar treatment. Yet the leniency that the Turkish FA has encountered over the years, blind eye after blind eye, would suggest that UEFA may be run by a bunch of cyclopes.

Every time Turkey is host to an international match, the levels of intimidation on and off the pitch reach obnoxious heights.

Three examples spring to mind. A number of Italian shops in Turkey were attacked or burnt down as Juventus travelled to play Galatasary in the 1998 Champions League. And who doesn’t remember the death of two Leeds supporters in Istanbul in April 2000, or the incidents following England playing in Turkey in 2004?

While Swiss players were hospitalised following last Wednesday’s clashes, this is what a Turkish player, Hamit Altintop, was reported as saying to the press: “You need to know we have a very different mentality. We are more emotional when we lose. We cannot lose". How very true, how very sad.