Sunday, June 19, 2022

Forever changes


It's a tangerine. In a sun shape. Cos it's summer. Quality content.


Such a lot has happened. We've covered the shit fake Paul Daniels and his treacherous retreat into the midland shadows so let's move on.

Before we do though, it has to be said that El Cowardly Bodywarmero didn't just chuck heart gestures at us and then run off without so much as a text message, he cost his mates their jobs too. I hope he's sending food parcels to Mike 'he shouts really loud' Garrity and Ian 'how have they found someone even less famous than Mike Garrity and Neil Critchley?' Brunskill.

I'm not that gutted Brunskill has gone, he was only here 5 minutes but I feel sorry for Garrity. All those trips to Macro to get shit for Critch like sweets to shut Jerry up on the coach and Night Nurse to feed Jerry on the coach to shut him up and earplugs to block out Jerry on the coach when neither of the above worked. That notebook he randomly wrote in that him and Critch stared at instead of making subs. The vague air of being a youth worker... All of that doesn't matter. Critch has got a famous mate now to tell what to shout to the players.

Poor Micky G.

Neil? Neil? it's Mike! Neil? Neil?

Big Murphs. Big Murphs. Nothing I can say can do justice to Big Murphs. As a player, he was a stalwart. Not appreciated by all (some people are fools) but it's no coincidence that neither Scott Taylor nor Brett Ormerod ever scored as many as they did alongside Murphs. One of my favourite ever goals was his unlikely 25 yard half volley against Bristol City on the final day of the season just because it was so atypical. A proper big man who could play football and a proper coach who got his youth team performing above expectation and playing lovely free flowing attacking football. Fearless stuff, even when coming up against the best in the country. A true legend. A big Murphs header was equal to a Gary Goal in terms of its purity and wonder. I can't say it clearer than that can I? 

What of the new manager? Everything is black or white. Either Appleton is a dreadful appointment that signals that something is rotten in Denmark or actually, Simon Sadler has made a great appointment and we must never question anything he ever does because he is basically Jesus 2. 

I'm not sure there's enough grey in life.
Neither of those positions really capture how I feel about ol' Micky Big Arms strolling back into town. It's an odd one. My feelings oscillate. I contradict myself. I have to remind myself that in an age of social media, it is still ok to *not be certain* even though you win/lose the popularity contest of twitter and all that sort of thing by having OPINIONS.


In short, I have no fucking idea how this all pans out. He's got experience, he's a different manager (and probably man) to the boring stuff last time - it's probably his one shot at the big time and he speaks well. Of course there are doubts, but Clough (the best manager ever) took the best team in the country at the time on in the 1970s and it turned out to be disaster so nothing is for definite anyway. Frankly, I can't be arsed moaning about what could have been cos the other candidates might have been shite anyway for all we know.

What I do know is the pre season videos have whetted my footballing appetite. We've learned that...

- Jerry is very excited. Very. Very. Excited. All the time. I think David Kerslake might be off to get some herbal calms tablets if Macro have them.
- Chris Maxwell takes exercising very seriously. 
- Oliver Casey can jump very high in the air so that's a thing.
- Gaz loves increasingly cuddly and less crazy Uncle Richard like, properly, it's a deep bromance thing. Srsly
- Also Gaz is really polite. ('Can I have a smaller size please?' with the please properly intoned to suggest that the receiver is empowered enough to say no. Butter would not melt...)
- I think we've all learned we need some content warnings because frankly Gaz and Jerry in their (small) smalls was a bit of a shock. 
- Players just running for a bit and then collapsing as if they're going to be sick is surprisingly good value.
- Richard Keogh reverts from cuddly Uncle Richard to crazy Uncle Richard after a long run. Once round the training pitch and the fella looks like he's outside Tesco shouting at passers by about death rays the FBI have put in the telly. Fucking love him. 

Tangerine TV (adults only)

So much has happened and yet, it's just the same old thing really. Football. Tangerine. I can't wait now. Bring it on. 

Onwards

 

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1 comment:

  1. I enjoyed this. It captures the feelings of how I feel about the pre-season under a new manager. I'm very positive about MA now that we have more information about him.
    I liked your tribute to Big Murphs, and I hope he takes up the club's offer to pop back any time he likes. If the drive here and back is too much for him in one day, we should put him up, for free, in the hotel. He deserves it.
    Progress!
    (Grumpy No More)

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