Season Preview: Throw off the shackles!

Bring back the body warmer or not? That is the key tactical question facing Neil Critchley this season

This is an odd preview to write because I'm really not in Blackpool Football Club mode at the moment - That's down to a combination of things I guess.

Firstly, the EUROs weren't so much a festival of the continental game but more an attritional exercise in relieving the season just gone - lots of worthy possession, a safety first philosophy and falling short at the last. Just as 'bringing Matty Virtue on' became short form for 'for fucks sake Critchley, we need a goal not a plucky midfield battler' it seemed appropriate that England lost the game whilst Gareth prepared Conner 'plucky battler' Gallagher to enter the fray. After an additional month of Critchball, I'm just not in the mood for more... 

Secondly, there's a sense of ennui about the club/fanbase itself. Things just aren't quite right. The owner has taken a combative approach to dealing with critical voices around ticket prices. A balanced view would acknowledge that football economics are insane and the expectation that all clubs are run at a loss can't continue as infinitum but there's something about the way the youngest and the least fiscally able are targeted by unexpected price rises that doesn't seem to add up as good business or PR. Much has been said on this and the club have moved a little bit - but the feeling of being 'in it together' or to use the much spoken buzzword 'in alignment' with the club isn't where it was in the not too distant past.

Thirdly, there's Critch from off of 'Critchball' fame. I don't want to dwell on the points above as I've written a lot about them of late. I've also written a lot about Neil 'prefers his ham sandwich without mustard' Critchley over the years, but I think we're heading into a season where his approach will define a lot so, on this topic, I will expand.

There's only two Neil Critchleys. One of them is the impish, pugnacious little fella who turns out sides who look prepared, who fight for every ball and pounce on every mistake. The polo shirted Volvo driver who turns into a tactical genius when he crosses the divide between the training pitch and the outside world. The man who remains calm as others flap and flail and whose influence on players is undoubted. He's punching, above his weight and convincing others to do so too.

The other is a stubborn and inflexible fella who uses his bodywarmer as insulation against criticism, who is so risk averse he probably insists his kids use a booster seat in the car and stabilisers on their bikes till they're in their mid-30s. This Critch turns out teams who look restricted, frightened, perhaps even bored. He's silent on the touchline, like a swimming pool attendant who takes his job hyper seriously, his tactical plan a rigid and fun-spoiling list of rules that insist on no bombing and everyone swimming sensibly in lane in a clockwise manner.

No unnecessary shooting or you will be removed from the pool!  

How I characterise him shifts with the winds. I am fickle. I am a football fan. I might have painfully obvious literary pretensions but I never pretend that I'm doing a journalistic service here. This is a blog where I write down how I feel at the time and sometimes Critchley frustrates the living shit out of me and yet... at others, I can't deny his charm, decency and of course, his ability. To paint him as incompetent would be ridiculous. He's blatantly not an idiot. Equally, there's been times since his return when it's been difficult to discern the kind of off beat invention that drove us toward the edge of the championship play offs and to feeling briefly like we'd established ourselves again somewhere around where we want to be.

I've often been critical of the way Critchley speaks. He's a man who keeps his cards close to his chest and prefers to straight bat most questions. At the recent fans forum, he opened up a little and won a fair deal of respect. Whilst the owner and the CEO wrestled uncomfortably with a barage of well made points about pricing structures, Critchley was clear eyed and honest and what he said made a lot of sense.

"Thing about Critchley is, he just won't stop tinkering... he'll never just stick with a formation" (Blackpool fans, sometime around January 2022) 

I admire anyone who has the courage of his convictions and Critchley came across as someone who had thought about the season, thought about how approached it from beginning to end and was prepared to speak honestly about it. His observation that the oft criticised formation was an attempt to engage the players in something new was particularly interesting and his insistence that he wants to play attacking football was welcome, even if it comes with the muttering, grudging aside of 'could have fooled me at times Neil, it looked a bit like what you wanted to do was shoe in Callum bloody Connolly come what may' 

Here's the thing: Familiarity breeds contempt. Critchley has been here an age now and his reputation precedes him for better and worse. Last year, his squad was more or less a group of players he'd managed before. This year, there is a sense that a page has been turned and something fresh will need to be tried.

What I want from this season, most of all, is for us to approach it with a sense that it's 'now or never' and that we're willing to take some risks to achieve our goals. I can forgive us not getting promoted, but I can't forgive us playing cautious and uninventive football, going entire games just probing the halfway line waiting for a mistake and then turning round and going back to Grimmy when one doesn't arrive.

I love football and I love that it can be played in different ways, but this is now Critchball season 4 and it's time for a change of gear.

I want to see Rob Apter given the same chance that other players have had. I know he might take time, but I also know he's got a rare ability and things like seeing that tested at this level are what I watch football for. We're not a team of limitless resources, we need to take a chance from time to time on players who *could* be good. Buying proven quality is nice, but watching quality prove itself is thrilling and deeply satisfying. 

I want us to approach away games fearlessly and trust ourselves to be the better side. I want to see us risk conceding in order to score and I definitely don't want to see us conceding because we've sat deep and invited the other team on or because we've high pressed a long ball team and then run out of steam and ideas.

If all else fails, get Tashan back... 

Between the sticks, Grimmy is a good as you get at this level. Yes, he would be a better keeper if he was 6ft 8, dominated the box AND as good with angles and as agile as he is, but then, if he were, Jordan Pickford wouldn't be England's no1 and Grimmy would be worth 100 million. 

At the back, it's encouraging to see some quality width to add to the left wing back position. In the middle, there are questions about whether we've got the dominant quality that Marvin at his best could bring. Hubby and Casey both do good jobs in their own way, but neither will dominate against a brutal lump of a forward. 

On the right, we have, in theory, a strong hand, but there's big questions about whether actually, it's the correct blend of players. CJ is much maligned and doubtless has some qualities we will find useful - whether he should be first choice pick week in week out in a position that generally demands a level of technical ability is a different matter. Jordan Gabriel is much loved but is a more effective all action full back than an out and our wingback and Andy Lyons isn't fit till Christmas.

In the middle of the park, I think Albie Morgan was probably the player who most improved over the season. There's a potentially a truly excellent footballer if he can find the form he showed for a decent spell once he'd settled into the team and keep it up over the majority of the season. He's energetic, imaginative and has proper quality. 

I don't need to remind readers of this blog that I fucking love Sonny Carey and I want to see him used wisely and treasured for his ability to float, prompt and hit it on target from all sorts of angles. Again, Sonny had a good spell last season where he looked confident, wanted the ball all the time and tried to make things happen and a season of that surrounded by the right players (others who can move and move the ball quickly) will lead to significant impact.

Sonny Carey in action

There's hope that Lee Evans will add annoying slapstick comedy height and know-how and that he's more Dougall than Stewart in terms of 'signing players on the back of an injury lay off,' (though ideally without the 'fucking off in the middle of the season just as it's starting to work' bit thrown in.) He's able to play both a central and defensive role in midfield, to pass and win his share of tackles and headers. We've missed a genuine all round midfielder since Wintle went back to Cardiff... 

No pressure there then Lee.. 

There's the mystery figure of Finnegan (see also Dan Sassi) who has experience at this level and who I really can't claim to reasonably have a view about but who surely can't just sit around doing nothing much all year. 

Is he any good? No one knows... 

Then there's Ollie Norburn... I don't know quite what to say here. He had the occasional excellent game for us, where he looked fierce, powerful and distributed the ball really well. He has a lot of games where he looked a little bit behind the play and to distribute the ball incredibly conservatively.

For me, the prior season, we desperately needed a Norburn. The lack of a midfield disrupter was painful as Championship sides dominated us. This year, we've dominated other teams fairly regularly and as both Byers and Dougall showed, we could do that without always needing a real deep lying sitting midfielder. We looked (and both Morgan and Carey) looked at our best with more fluid midfield where the deeper player also brought movement and attacking potential to the table.

Up front we've got a new lad who looks massive and doesn't score goals. I'm reserving judgement on whether he's my new cult hero or not. Time will tell. To add to fake Gaz we've still got YTS Gaz and unlike some, I think Beesley has a place because he is both mobile and strong. He's never going to world class but with the right partner he'll do twice his share of dirty work and others will reap the reward. Then there's the best Kylian in world football and it is really quite apparent we've got a lot of big lads...

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEES! (also known as ffs Bees but we love him really and if you don't you should because Bees is us and we are Bees) 

Where we might be lacking however, is pace. Kyle Joseph (who isn't exactly diminutive either) has some and also not an insignificant amount of skill. The problem is, he is definitely not a fox in the box type. He looks, to me, to be born to play on one side of a fluid front three - which is not something he's had the opportunity to do so whilst at Blackpool. I like Joseph a lot - but it's an odd thing how the player who is probably on paper, the single biggest investment of the post Oyston era, so clearly doesn't quite fit with the structure that was so clearly defined last season.

Finally, Jordan Rhodes (also, as it happens, decent in the air.) It's impossible not to be pleased to have a player of such undoubted quality and positive influence in the squad. All of our strikers played better with him than without him last season. The concern, however is twofold - firstly, he ties us to particular formations, there's no way that Rhodes can lead the line alone and secondly, relying on a player of his age week in and week out is a risky business. He *wants* to play every minute but last season showed that whilst he's clearly very fit, even before his injury, 3 games a week was taking a toll.

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We need more that we have right now. I've already identified the need for a dominant centre back and we will get bullied by teams in this league if we don't find someone. Perhaps the assistant head coach could do a turn or two if required? Feed him some energy tablets and squirt some WD40 into his knees and roll back the years...

How do you replace the irreplaceable? 

Creativity is a big question. I'm absolutely a believer in Rob Apter but we've got a minimum of 51 games to get through and whilst Sonny has creativity, he's more the player who moves into the pockets of space that someone else creates than the one who makes it. I don't see how, if (and when) Apter is marked out of a game, off form, injured or rested, we're going to unlock teams.

Pace up front is another issue. I maintain that had Shayne Lavery's flames not been doused by his repeated niggling injuries then we'd have finished comfortably better off than we did last season. Pace down the middle is vital, especially when we frequently come up against centre backs who don't really have it. I think the front 5 we have needs some thought. Rhodes looked good whether he was played with a big lad or a nippy character. We don't have the nippy character that would bring that variety.

Additional (quality) width is also a requirement in my view. I might be insane to hope Critchley is more flexible this season (I don't think I am though), but I can see in this squad, the potential to play with 4 at the back and either a 451, 442, 4231 or 433 style. In order for the first two to work, we absolutely need another quality wide player (and possibly for the third and fourth choices, that player to be able to play the wide forward role too, though Joseph would fit perfectly despite not really being 'a winger'). Apter has just played a blinder from wide right at Tranmere so he's definitely a candidate, Coulson is hard working and might suit a defensive 451 but isn't really a pure winger in an attacking set up. CJ is CJ and can do the more attacking roles very well against the right defence. I therefore think having one more out and out winger would give us a real flexibility and also, logically, with all of our forwards being over 6 ft something (for the time being at least), then it's a way to serve them. 

Ultimately, we can't expect to win week in and week out with a big slow forward line that also doesn't receive quality delivery from wide. The physical strength up front could certainly be useful in bringing the strength of our attacking midfielders into play, more than one of who has an eye for goal - but that's got to be only one way we go about our business, because good sides (and I have no doubt Critchley want's us to be a genuinely good side) can do it more than one way. 

To loop back to the opening - we know Critchley once had it in him to take each match as it comes and to serve up something different on a game by game basis. We know also that there's a new dynamic in the dugout and Crazy Uncle Richard brings at very least, the hard earned experience of the ex pro to add to Critchley's studious textbook learning and Mikey G's shouting skills. It might be optimistic but it's not without a basis of logic to think that next season won't be an exact carbon copy of the last. 

We also know that positive vibes aren't at their highest ebb and therefore, there's likely not going to be endless patience if football that looks a bit like a training ground exercise is what is served up.

Critchley isn't stupid and neither are supporters. If he can provide attacking football more often than not and show he's really trying everything to win every game then people will back him on the whole. If we can evolve into a side that aren't go to die wondering, then (though I've nothing tangible to provide as evidence) I think players will back him as well. Too often last year, they looked stymied, not liberated by 'the ethos' and if it's more of the exact same, then it's probably not going to be a fun time for anyone. No one is stupid and expecting every game to be 5-4 but we fell short last year precisely because we did die wondering on quite a few occasions. 

The phrase 'front foot football' has been bandied about a lot over the last year.

Let's see it. For better or worse. It's now or never for Critch and I want him to grasp the nettle, savour the stinging feeling, grit his teeth, show his worth, his mettle, his courage and shut daft blogger cunts like me up. He could define the rest of his career this year, marking himself down as a resilient and flexible manager who, if given time can produce flair and style on a relative shoestring or he could fizzle out in a whimper of sideways possession.

I think almost everyone would much prefer the former option. 

Onward!

He's going to make it all ok again... Maybe. 

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Listen to yesterday: 3 football history podcasts

Podcasts are one of the world's best and worst inventions. The app stores might be flooded with vapid celebrity content, but searching a little bit deeper can reveal some amazing things. Football is extremely well represented and there are some really good contemporary podcasts amongst the drek but I find football history fascinating and of late, a number of podcasts have explored the fertile fields of the past with notable success - below are my current indulgences. 

1: It Was What It Was: 

Jonathan Wilson is a national treasure. I say that, fully aware of the fact that 'man who applies his obvious intellect to knowing a dangerous amount of information about obscure football information' might not seem the most obvious qualification for the status but, for me, anyone who has dedicated this much of his life to knowing line ups from games played before he was born deserves recognition. 

Alongside Rob Draper, the pair tell stories of football from the past. The series started in fairy mainstream territory but has since stepped from the path and it's account of a 1970s match fixer who survived Auschwitz and the origins of the FA ban for women's football have been particular highlights. 

This is a disciplined and well produced podcast where the pair swap roles as questioner and story teller depending on who is the expert on the subject matter. It is detailed without being overwhelming and their skill in managing the exposition of a narrative is as impressive as their knowledge. 

2: Football Ruined My Life: 

This is like so many podcasts at the moment in the sense of it being a group of blokes who talk about football and laugh from time to time whilst poking gentle fun at each other. The difference with this one is the topic is largely football of the past, sometimes given full nostalgic focus and sometimes compared to modern day. 

The team (Patrick Barkley, former Leicester City chairman and football agent John Holmes and author Colin Schindler) are knowledgeable in different ways and have a breadth of memories and views on the modern game. 

Each episode tends to focus on a theme (i.e goalkeepers or flair players) and it manages to walk the fine line between interesting memories and indulgent nostalgia very well. It is, essentially, 3 very knowledgeable and interesting older fellas chatting about football for about an hour. What's not to like? 

3. The Brazilian Shirt Name Podcast. 

Tim Vickery is an expert on world football. Dotun Adebayo is an amenable conversationalist who has lived a fantastically interesting life. The pair are probably best known for the 'World Football Phone In' - a late night show on Radio 5 that is the antidote to the parochial and often pointlessly combative emptiness of 606. 

This podcast is the pair of them, stretching out into the infinite space allowed by the medium and chatting shit about this and that. The premise is simple - take a game from football history, analyse the match itself and then study the social context via the music charts of the day. It sometimes features a guest related to that game (usually someone who was there) and other times is just Dotun and Tim. 

This is the least 'slick' of the content listed. It's full of digressions, slips of the tongue and thinking out loud. That's not a criticism. It's lovely to hear the game talked about in a different way, devoid of the usual narrow cliches and urgency to keep a new cycle moving forward. As podcasting becomes the mainstream, so many productions seem to seek to create radio style content, with high production values and urgent compression into short segments with slick links to as breaks and sponsors. This is a podcast of the old skool style, two mates chatting without an eye on the clock and little regard for structure. 

The pair have a genuine warmth for each other and have explored a creditable breadth of matches, moving seamlessly between decades, continents and clubs. 

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All of the above podcasts are beautiful things in that they place the game in a context. They remind you of how it has changed and how the values of both football and society aren't fixed. As I get older, I've found history more interesting, I've come to appreciate that the past begats the future and to understand the present, you have to understand the past and all this content provide a welcome journey to a different world. 

If you enjoyed this post, you might also enjoy: 

Random useless football related information 

Football books/reading part 1

Football books/reading part 2

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A blueprint for English victory.

Just like that, another chapter in England's catalogue of failure is written. Once again, a nation breathes in, ready to let out a primal scream of joy and instead all that is emitted is a collective long sigh. Rather than gazing on a trophy lift, there is just a thousand yard stare into nothingness. 

It's always thus. We're never good enough. We always fall short, always lack something in the final showing. Damp eyed idols who've run out of time to claw it back. A manager stripped of purpose wandering about a pitch that seems huge in defeat, consoling his men, in sore need of consolation himself. A post match interview where forcing him to talk at this point borders on the inhumane. 

In the dark days of the late 80s, we bemoaned a lack of of technique. Our game, we said, has become outmoded. England is wedded to its island status, a football pariah that has become isolated in its belief that an up and at em' physical ruggedness is enough to conquer the world. We told ourselves that maybe if we did what the Dutch do, trained kids how to pass and move, then, in 15 years time, we'd be brilliant. As the Premier League has steadily turned into a global super league, that idea has become less and less realistic - we're all so much more Pep than Don Howe these days and no stone is left unturned in the attempt to find football ability and turn it into a footballing commodity. We've had to come up with a wide variety of other reasons to explain it all away. 

We don't produce managers, we've got too many foreign players, we've not got enough left sided players, all the good players want to play the same position, not enough academies, too many academies, we don't care enough, we care too much, the manager's job is too high pressure, we don't give the managers job to the right people, the manager's job is not wanted by anyone... 

There will now be another inquest, another hand wringing exercise, another set of futile attempts to find a reason for what is increasingly seeming like a permanent state of being - forever doomed to hope, forever facing the cold dawn of defeat with downcast eyes and slumped shoulders. England players sat on their haunches, bleakly comforting each other, stuck with the knowledge that glory has once again slipped from their grasp. No matter what we do, we end up with Jordan Pickford, head in his big white gloves. 

We can argue that 'we've actually done well' sometimes, but really over the course of time, we haven't. We are one of the largest European nations. Only Russia and Turkey can be accused of managing to leverage their populace more ineffectively than we have. Put it this way, if we take Italy, Spain and France as countries roughly analagous to us, then they have, since 1966, won a combined total of 10 European Championships and 8 World Cups.  Add in the fact that countries with far fewer resources than us (Netherlands, Portugal, Greece, Denmark, Czechoslovakia) have won stuff too and it's grim reading. 

Perhaps they had it right back in the day. It's not gung-ho nationalism to declare that the UK is the birthplace of football. It's a fact that sober reading can unearth. When you trace back the origins of the game across the world, it is almost always an expat from Scotland or England who has set up a team somewhere and it's slowly spread from there. How nations play to this day is influenced by whether it was the Scottish passing game (or, to be truly accurate, the northen English/Glaswegian 'combination game' approach) or the amateur English rugged approach that was a key influence. (Strangely, this doesn't seem to extend to Scotland themselves...) 

Jimmy Hogan, one particularly notable example of an Englishman who coached other countries to become better than us. 

We didn't play anyone more exotic than Ireland (then under 'Home Rule') until 1908. When we did, we ran up a collective score of 28-2 over 4 games against Austria, Bohemia and Hungary. The following year, 3 games against Austria and Hungary yielded a similar one sided English dominance. It was a full 21 years till we lost a game to the foreigners - A 4-3 defeat in Madrid which the press largely ignored and England, for reasons that are lost to the mists of time, picked a non-league player (Edgar Kail of Dulwich Hamlet) despite the professional game being in a rugged health and boasting 4 divisions by this point in time. Spain were managed by an Englishman (Fred Pentland) so all in all, we could probably chalk this off as 'one for the experience' and 'a lesson to ourselves in the foolishness of showing Johnny Foreigner what to do' 

When the World Cup was set up, England approached it with disdain. We didn't enter the first 3, content to play the Home Championship and friendly matches as suited us. This, effectively allowed us to draw the curtains and ignore the rest of the world and their unsporting evolution of the game.

Happily enough, in 1931, we beat Spain 7-1 at Highbury putting to rest any idea that a culture with a siesta and funny hats was better at football than one with meat and potato pies and flat caps. Unhappily though, in that same year, we lost to a team that eat snails and frogs legs in Paris, going down 5-2 despite the debut (and debut goal) of one of my favourite named football players of all time, Pongo Waring of Aston Villa. 

Again though, we managed to straighten things out, beating the stinking soft cheese merchants with a good old display of hard cheddar sharpness and roaring to a 4-1 victory in 1933, with 2 goals for George Camsell, player who should be better remembered than he is - not only did he score 59 goals in one season (unfortunately for him, the same season Dixie Dean scored 60) but he hit 18 goals in only 9 games for England, a ration that makes Kane look, frankly, a bit shit. 

By now though, a pattern was emerging. It would be a further 20 years until the famous Wembley defeat of 1953 but during the 30s we also lost to Hungary, the Czechs, Austria, Belgium, Switzerland and Yugoslavia. All away from home. 

At home we were still invincible though - a fact, proven beyond any doubt, by a 1938 victory over 'the rest of Europe' - a far more efficient process to find the best team in Europe than playing loads of games all over the place. Just have one game and invite Europe to 'come and have a go if it thinks it's hard enough' and see it off with plucky English zeal. Sorted. 

Only ill-informed people say we've never won the Euros! 

England then, of course, played 'the rest of Europe' on a bigger stage which somewhat interrupted the flow of the game for a few years. Fans of metaphors could look to the paragraph above and construct one themselves. 

When we finally entered the World Cup (1950), we sent a scratch team of whoever we could be bothered to send with no real thought behind it. We'd decided, it wasn't worth picking Matthews for the group matches. We lost to the USA but then, we hadn't really tried so it didn't matter. Anyway, they couldn't come over and beat us on our own soil and with our best players could they? 

We also lost to Ireland in 1949, but that was Ireland so it didn't count. When in 1953, we played Hungary and lost heavily at Wembley in a game that would become to be considered a legendary turning point for English tactics and mindset, some of the press (quite literally) described Hungary's tactic of swapping positions and moving into unusual areas (between the lines in today's hipster parlance) as 'unsporting behaviour' and praised England for 'keeping their positions' and 'playing the game as it should be' - We can be assured that had the Hungarians played us at our own game, not one they'd deviously invented, we'd definitely have triumphed. 

Not long after that Hungary game, the above truth was borne out. Wolves played the mighty Honved side that contained the majority of the Hungarian wizards. Wolves won. The victory was in no small part down to the fact that the side in old gold ordered the Molyneux pitch to be watered so heavily it resembled a bog. On the rutted and saturated surface, they tamed the Hungarian passing game and shelled their goal. Good old English physicality won out. England declared themselves champions of the world once more.  

I think there's a lot to be said for that attitude to be honest. 

Instead of yet another inquest into how and why we don't match up, I'm advocating a self protective isolationism. I'm advocating a return to the Home Championship. A game at Hampden, a game in Cardiff, a game at Windsor Park and a game at Wembley. Best of Britain. 

Fuck the rest. Let them 'evolve' the game to their hearts content. Let them have their perversions. Their sweepers and their 'no10s' and their undisciplined movement that masquerades as 'tactical fluidity' 

We invented this torture for ourselves. It's our own fault. We could have kept football for ourselves. No one makes us enter these so called 'tournaments' anyway.  What is 'FIFA' really? 'UEFA'? It's not as catchy or definitive as 'The FA' is it? We don't have to keep doing this. We can surely beat Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland at least sometimes. The Home Championship is the oldest of them all and have Spain or France or Italy or Argen-bloody-tina or Brazil with their stupid beach football samba game ever won that? 

No. 

Lets bin off all this fawning over the flim flam of continental football. Let them venerate skill and movement, let them have their fancy diets and their psychology and all that. Lets go back to big centre halves smashing into big centre forwards with bone crunching force. Lets occasionally invite a scratch team of foreigners to play us, but with our own referee and lets plough the pitch before hand so they can't play in their suspicious and frankly ludicrously effete manner, prancing about with their fashionable hair styles and wearing designer suits on the touchline. We'll stick to our own principles instead of trying to ape others. Big lads up front and galloping wingers to feed them. We can launch it long and Michael Ricketts can bundle the ball over the line from a loopy Steve Guppy cross and we'll all celebrate with warm beer and a capstan, chucking our caps in the air and shouting 'hurrah!' and '3 cheers for the king' 

Could have been an all time great had we not lost our way somewhere...

It's the future. 

No more pain.

Until next time. 

Onward

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Final Countdown...

One of England's many greats. Matthews, Finney, Charlton, Moore, Hurst, Sinton etc...

Keen readers of this blog will have noted I started off writing about the EUROs and then just stopped.

Frankly, I couldn't be arsed.

I say 'couldn't be arsed' in attempt to pass it off cooly, as if actually, what I was doing was hanging around a swimming pool with all the other podders, vloggers, bloggers and tik-tokkers, tweeters and whatever other ghastly manifestations there are of the horrible phenonoma of 'fan-media' 

I wasn't. The other 'content creators' don't invite me to such events anyway because I'm misanthropic and spoil the party by saying things like 'who the fuck actually wants to read/watch the absolute shit we produce?' and 'I hate it when people say 'guys' online' and 'isn't it fucking annoying when people say 'I'm not gonna lie' before saying something that isn't something you'd lie about anyway like 'I'm not gonna lie, Mainoo has been really good' and 'shouldn't we just pour petrol on the internet and burn all the absolute septic ill informed bilge we come out with?'

Also, I'd probably tell that Bolton kid who is dead posh to fuck off cos he's basically everything that's wrong with the modern world and he's probably got a bouncer or something by now because people must surely get pissed off with him turning up at random games and braying really loudly about himself so that wouldn't go well probably. 

I haven't been scrappng with Thogdog or whatever he's called. Mundanely, I've been really busy and writing a chirpy blog on how the Austrian manager resembles someone who might walk their dog on private land in a slightly provocative and self important way wasn't really appealing to me.  Anyhow, I'm writing the blog now so it's all gravy.

He'd have a really big dog and he wouldn't pick up its mess.

Quite a lot of water has passed under the bridge since the last one. We've gone through the entire spectrum of options between 'England are fucking shite and Southgate has the football acumen of a brain damaged potato' to 'England are going to win the thing and Southgate is a zenlike monk of tactical patience who has played the long game to perfection' 

I'm not sure where I sit. Who cares to be honest. Whatever I think (which is probably that he's pretty good at some things and very much less good at others) is going to have no impact on whether we win - and the fact that we played pretty well for the 35 minutes that Holland the Netherlands attacked us is a good sign. That's probably just idiotic optimism and the fact Spain look at least twice as good as anyone we've played (and for that matter, us) is a little tiny bit of a concern. 

It is clear that England have struggled to break down teams and that to a greater or lesser extent, everyone we've played to date have tried to be compact and hit us on the break. The one team who didn't do that was the Dutch (for a bit) and we managed (almost literally) to create more chances in that short spell alone than we've carved out in the tournament as a whole up to that point. Spain will not put 9 behind the ball and play off their striker. In essence, it's the difference between us (Blackpool) playing Portsmouth and Bolton vs playing Port Vale and Cheltenham. 

Slovakia

People will bang on about years of hurt and all that but if we lose to Spain, we've lost to the best team at the tournament. I'm not really a massive fan of the way we play but then, it's been a lot more successful than that time we picked a fun gung-ho manager to play football for the sheer love of playing football and he had to resign cos we were shit. Whether we like Gareth or not, England have more or less punched their weight throughout his tenure and that's not been true for a long time. 

The years of hurt haven't really been the defeats anyway. They've been the stupid self defeating actions that have come before them. Imagine having Chis Waddle and Peter Beardsley at your disposal. Imagine binning them off just because... Imagine not picking either Paul Gascoigne or Matt Le Tissier because you don't trust players who score goals and dribble past people? Imagine a world where Steve Mclaren is the best manager in the country. Imagine producing a genius like Clough and never giving him a go at the job (and so on) 

Like Grealish... but loads better... (and Grealish is good) - the players who were picked instead were people like Tony Daley and Andy Sinton. 

Well done EVERYONE. What a nation. Brings a tear of pride to the eye.

Gareth got the job by accident. He got the job at a point where the question 'who the fuck is going to do this cos no one actually wants it?' was a valid one. In a way, he's a latter day Walter Winterbottom - an amenable FA man who essentially serves as a placeholder and yet, bizarrely it's worked in a way that Walter never did. What he's produced is an England team.

The important point here is 'team.' We can all think back to multiple tournaments (and for that matter qualifiers) where England have just been a collection of blokes who happen to wear the same shirt and look at each other as if they're surprised to see their teammates and confused about their collective purpose. 

Yer actual Walter Winterbottom. Literally just a bloke who carried the balls and collected the subs whilst some butchers and such picked his team. Pure mentalism. 

We've never really had that manager that united the nation since 66 anyway. Revie buggered off for cash. Greenwood didn't do a lot. Everyone hated Robson until the last tournament and he has been the subject of spectacular misty eyed revisionism as if he was the nation's beloved twinkly eyed grandad for his entire reign. Taylor, Keggy and Mclaren were abject. El Tel was fun, but he'd already basically gone by the time we did anything good under him. Hoddle was ok but no more and I've still not forgiven him for the 98 squad where God told him to pick battlers above everything else. Cheers God. On the 7th day you chilled out after making David Batty. Thanks for that. 

"Here's a good one Paul. Imagine if I dropped you AND Matty and just took a load of cloggers. Lol! Yeah, hahahahahahahaha. It's fucking hilarious innit? What sort of mentalist would go to the World Cup with no creative players? ROFL LOLCOPTER"

Sven didn't deliver on the promise that he hinted at. Capello was a car crash and gave off furious vibes all the time. Roy with his fancy CV and intellectual ways was an inevitable choice who ended in an inevitable way because no matter who he manages, he manages them like they're plucky underdogs, Big Sam didn't put a foot wrong in his reign apart from that time he had to resign after a single game cos of dodgy dealings. It's worth remembering that we've also had (*checks notes*) Peter Taylor, Howard Wilkinson Stuart Pearce and Joe Mercer in the hotseat at one point or another... 

If only it had worked... 

Up until Ramsey, England didn't even try to play international football. Quite literally, their approach was to appoint a PE teacher as trainer and to pick the team via a committee of (yes, really) business men. When they finally realised that had to change and we weren't actually going to get anywhere by throwing names in a hat and playing tactics 20 years outdated, we turned to Alf. We obviously remember the final, but Ramsay didn't serve up beautiful football. That wasn't his genius. He dragged us, by force of will into a position where we were tactically adept, where we had a plan and a coherency. Even the greatest manager of our history wasn't really flavour of the month for much of his reign. Much of what was thrown at Southgate was thrown at him too.  

This... really... happened. (For context, Taylor's last job was the football heavyweights of Maldon and Tiptree)

The point is, aside from the odd month here and there, the odd game where it all went right, the odd blip, it's been an almost never ending parade of disappointment and low level grumbling. We've very rarely had 'the right man' and even when we have, it's not lasted very long. 

As we've already said - if it wasn't Gareth, who the fuck would it be? No one any good wants the job. It would either be some clapped out coach who was good a decade ago or some FA coaching badge nobody. Gareth isn't the best manager in world football, but the best managers in world football don't want the England job. It's too much hassle and not enough football. Who would do it if he didn't? 

No.. but seriously, it would obviously be Frank. 

If I'm honest, (and I'm not gonna lie) this time round, I've enjoyed other teams more than England. Georgia were great fun, Turkey were excellent and played a wonderful brand of chaotic and aggressive football, Austria were good, the Swiss were probably the best 'team' outside of Spain, they looked balanced and really well coached, a proper unit that were unlucky to lose to us to be honest. Germany played some really flamboyant football and looked blisteringly good at points. All of that doesn't matter though. They're out.

The other team that has provided a lot of pleasure is Spain. We might be deluding ourselves with the narrative that 'Gareth has measured this run perfectly' - We might be making up some self serving mumbo jumbo about 'tournament football' being about winning ugly and saving the performances till later on (on the one hand, I'm not sure Brazil 70 did that but then equally, the Dutch in 74/78 played sexy football and lost at the end so who knows?) 

Can we beat them? 

Of course we can. 

Onward!

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EURO FEVER DAY 3 (EDGY ENGLAND)

Day 3:

There is finally some sunshine in England. I go for a walk as who knows when we'll see some more.

The Dutch play out a tough game with Poland and win it when they bring on the big man, the much maligned Weghorst. United finished third when they had the big lad, they finished nowhere without him. Big lads win games. Facts lads. Facts. The pundits chat about whether defenders can handle big lads these days and conclude they can't. Get on the Gaz-phone Gareth and get Madine on that bench England.

I don't watch much of the above, what with being outside. I do watch all of Denmark and Slovenia. First half Eriksen has me purring, not just for the glorious catharsis of his brilliantly taken goal (lets not mince words, he LITERALLY DIED for a bit last time round) but just about everything he does drips with class, every corner swinging dangerously, every pass weighted beautifully.

Slovenia offer the odd moment first half but play really well second half and score just after missing a great chance and hitting the post. It's deserved. Denmark look gutted.

Off the pitch I think about the following: Is an advert where the voiceover is 'It's squeeky cheese time' the most desperate link to football ever? Why are Lidl such a big thing in this tournament? Lidl is a shit Aldi (with admittedly better fresh baked goods) and thus they seem a bit incongruous when laid against all the other big names sponsoring the tournament. In the crowd, bouncing seems to be very 'in' this tournament. The Dutch were very bouncy in the little I saw and both the Danes and the Slovenes (?) were jumping up and down, whipped up by them weird blokes with a megaphone who don't watch the game.

The BBC kick off with a montage that is as brilliantly done as it is depressing. Lineker is wearing a t-shirt that is weirdly also a jumper. Rio looks a little sleep deprived and forgets the names of people. Micha Richard's hair is absolutely amazing and Cesc just sits there looking deeply classy which, obviously, he is, because he's from abroad. Joe Hart appears with strange wraps around one of his arms. It is inexplicable.

England are slick and quick and just at the point when you wonder if all this moving the ball is going to lead somewhere, Saka puts in a deflected cross and Bellingham thunders in and connects gorgeously with it. A simple but lovely goal.

It's all England until Stones and Walker get mixed up, pass it out of play and from the Serbia throw, England win it back, but Alexander-Arnold gifts it on a plate for Mitrovic to whistle it past the post. C'mon. Don't do stupid things. We've been good, but there's a little spell where Serbia look more in the game until a break and a terrific run from Walker that sees him slide it agonisingly across the face. England do that again, then have a really shaky moment from a cross into the box where Stones ends up frozen and awkward and the half is up.

The Serbian manager puts me in mind of someone who would be in a children's story about a man who owns a haunted barrel organ. He has a mischievous air about him, a little like Ancelotti. He gets a better tune out of his team at the start of the second half. They pin England in, they get in behind Stones, they force more mistakes from England.

15 minutes pass without a convincing England move. 15 becomes 20 and Serbia press. England are reduced to smacking the ball away to no one. Trent goes off. Gallagher comes on. England really need to carry the ball and scrap. Gallagher might be the box to box player to get us out. Pickford chucks in a random punch for no reason just to add a bit more sense of edginess to what is feeling increasingly nervy.

Bowen replaces Saka and immediately glides past his man with a little shimmy, floats a glorious ball in, Kane meets it with all the force of a steam hammer and the ball looks destined for the goal until the Serbian keeper throws up his hands and diverts the ball onto the bar.

It's a temporary respite. Pickford has to twist in the air and tip a long distance effort over the bar. From the resulting corner, Kane has to head an equally dangerous looking effort away from almost under the bar. There's a couple of really good crosses scrambled away. There's a long distance effort. There's a brilliant bit of play that gets them all the way from being penned in in the corner to bearing down on England's goal in about three passes.

Finally, there's a booming clearance from Pickford, his anger rising and showing in the wind up, kick and leap and then, the final whistle...

All a bit Blackpool. A good half, then the other team changed it up and everything looked sloppy and confused. It's a win though.

Onward! 

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EURO FEVER DAY 2 (RAIN AND SPAIN)

Day 2: Here in England it's been a summery 11 degrees, replete with glorious cold and torrential rain and I want to put the fire on. Meanwhile in Deutschland there's been plenty of red hot soccer action. After the spectacular failure of both my preview piece and day 1 summary, here's day 2 in all it's glory*

*I may** have missed out some of the glory.
**I have missed out some of the glory***
*** Reason for missing glory are outlined in the informative diagram below

I can't take Switzerland seriously even though they've been quite good for a while. It's Switzerland. They're just not 'footbally'. I once stopped at a motorway services in Switzerland so I therefore picture the entire country as being like an expensive motorway services with mountains. Kind of like Tebay.

Hungary by contrast are very 'footbally' and have a serious looking manager. The Swiss are managed by a fella whose square glasses and long hair make him look like a furniture designer.

The game is decent. The Swiss are really good first half. Xhaka is outstanding .Two of their players score their first goals and it's a reminder of how previously unheralded players can light up a tournament ala Toto Schillachi in Italia 90 and some other players I've forgotten. The Magyars roar back into the game second half pulling back a goal with a lovely header. The best bit for me is that both teams bring on big lads. The Hungarian big lad is a terrific addition - the fact he looks more like he should be wearing dungarees and driving a flat bed truck full of straw means he's definitely my favourite player so far. The Swiss big lad scores, which is nice cos he's been injured for ages.

There's two things you notice watching this. 1 - Hungary are very good. 2. It's striking how unusual it is to see keepers immediately shelling it as long as they can when the ball comes to them - even though that was quite normal up till not that long ago. 

For Spain and Croatia the underwhelming b team pundits are shipped out, (though I do quite like Karen Carney's disapproving vibe of someone recounting a particularly shit marriage in post divorce drinking session with friends when describing poor play.) It's all Wrighty, Keano and G-Nev for this one. Keane can't stop saying "warriors" over and over. G-Nev speaks with the authority of a man who thinks he's an authority. Wrighty's glasses don't so much suggest furniture designer as your Nan at the bingo. Combined with an arty take on a flowery shirt, the man is the very definition of style.

On the pitch, the score is one sided but the game isn't. Croatia make a bunch of chances and don't score them and even when they do, they get ruled it out. Spain make a similar amount of chances but do score. It's a back and forth game but only one way in terms of the result. Spain are playing a 16 year old which is mental and he's pretty good. It's a wild idea and I don't want to tell our manager what to do but.... Maybe we could risk the 21 year old Rob Apter in the odd league one game?

Scots could probably use him as well tbf

I know it's trendy to hate on the USAVARLADY but she's definitely better than the ex refs they've had doing a similar thing (whether or not she said 'outside penalty') because she is quite concise and decisive. Peter Walton is neither. I do, however, think the fact TV now employ a specific analyst for VAR might be an indication that it's an overcomplicating element in a game whose simplicity is the key point in its global appeal.

Italy and Albania is ruined by me having to snatch glances at it on my silent phone. I see Albania go ahead and I see Donnarumma make a brilliant save at the end but in between I don't see very much of the game at all. On that evidence, it appears as if Albania have dominated from start to finish but the little bits of punditry I manage to hear by sneaking away from what I was engaged with suggest the Italians had played well. This is precisely the kind of top line, top level, exclusive insight you read this blog for. Who needs the MSM? 

Today's menu includes more football and that includes some country called 'England' - you may have heard of it. It's quite rainy. 

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EURO FEVER (DAY 1 - Scotland's shame)

I don't know if I can do one of these every day, but I'll have a go for the sake of it. The content will not have any great value. It's an exercise in seeing if I can lower the bar still further.

The tactical diagram from the previous blog: It appears Steve Clarke hadn't read this closely enough. Be warned other nations. Disregard MCLF's tactical insight at your peril. 

Day 1: Everything went as expected. Scotland were spectacularly bad. Their game plan resembled a non-league side playing a Champions League winner but they'd forgotten that if you need to go back to front directly then you need to kick the ball hard enough to get it up front and to have a big lad up that there to receive it. 

 
We opened the tournament with an inexplicable euro dance where people looked frighteningly happy and energetic and jumped about in what appeared to be costumes designed according the AI prompt "what happens when you mash up a cycling jersey, jockeys silks and a hockey kit?"

If you were wondering, this is the answer to the question...

On the telly Ally McCoist ended up sad which was a shame but he kept getting hugs from his co-host so that was ok. Roy Keane was high pitched and incredulous. How he remains surprised that most footballers aren't as good as the best ones week after week is amazing. Graeme Souness was both simmering and confused by life in equal measure. Ian Wright remains supremely lovable for his intense commitment to the moment. Keane's apathetic shrug when asked if was jealous of the gongs awarded to various pundits stole the show though. Keane's quality is that for all he is pastiche of himself, underneath, there's a really unspun and genuine quality to him.

On the pitch, the Germans pressed, passed and moved with sexy young players. They then, as if a nation showing their military might in a parade of weapons might tag on a couple of unconventional warheads to the end of the parade, brought some really good old players on and a really good big lad too. It was almost as if to say "we (ve) can do it like this (zis)... or we (ve) can do it like that... (zat)"  

Nagelsman has the air of an up and coming executive type at a company that has a big glass office in London. You can imagine him sweeping in and saying things like "focus on growth delivery strategy" and leaving his expensive car key somewhere you can see it, just so you know he's doing very fucking well thankyou very much and he'll crush you if you get in his way. 

Steve Clarke, it's fair to say doesn't have that vibe. He's more 'man who has worked for Ayrshire council forever but is coming toward retirement and people aren't so sure what to get him for a gift because he's not really said much about himself in the last 40 years'

Ayrshire Council building where people are wondering if Steve once mentioned if he had a caravan or not.

Sam Matterface was the lowlight of the occasion. It's easy to pile on famous commentators and complain about them but this fella is something else. He sounds like the result of what would happen if you plugged a Sainsbury's in a pre-recorded in-store advert voiceover to a search engine primed with "interesting facts about [insert team name/location of the game]" and failed to filter any of the results. He's Motson, but with none of the charm. There's absolutely nothing there. He make Guy Mowbray seem like a deep, insightful sage and master of the art of oratory. 

"Ally did you know that's only the sixth time that Scotland have taken a goal kick from the right side of the six yard box since last October"

"Aye Sam, but they've only played twice"

"Hey shoppers, check out the frozen aisle for great summer discounts! - Quality and great prices - only at Sainsbury's " 

"Sam, I' think yer a wee bit broken agin" 

In an odd way, I think this result might do Scotland some good. Steve Clarke is a good manager but he's sometimes caught between an orthodoxy and intent. Scotland are going to have to do something different.

Today? More football!!! Tomorrow - maybe another shit blog though I've got shit to do so maybe not. Who knows. 

Don't get that kind of sign off in the Athletic do you? 

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EURO FEVER!: A terrible preview

At this time in the football calendar, the world is full of 'content creators' trying to ride the gravy train by getting on board the Euro Fever express (all the way to Engagement Central via Smash that Like Button and Subscribe Parkway.) Their pathetic attempts to harness the occasion is only matched by their audiences acceptance of the bland and ill informed drivel they churn out.

As someone whose knowledge of top level football these days extends to watching Match of the Day once every six months and accidentally seeing a goal now and again on Twitter or in the pub, it would be absurd of me to attempt to pose as some kind of authority on the Euros. What kind of twat would not know anything about the thing they were writing about and yet, write about it anyway?

Ladies and Gentlemen. I give you the official MCLF Euros preview blog.

As your guide to the forthcoming tournament, I'm going to share a range of things to look out for. Think of this as a metaphorical bingo card to carry with you.

1) There will be a player that runs a bit weirdly so instinctively you'll think he's shite but will turn out to be absolutely fucking brilliant. He won't be English.

2) There also will be a different player who is ridiculously slow but who is also absolutely brilliant. He also won't be English. I'll really envy the nation (probably Italy or Croatia) who have this player and will, at any given moment launch into a monologue about 'what this shows is how the English game, as much as it's evolved is still essentially in thrall to an idea of physical attributes being superior to technical skills and (insert name of player who is slow as fuck but incredible) shows how that just isn't true. If he was English he wouldn't get a game for us in a million years but look at how good he is'

The person listening won't give a fuck and will say 'mmm' in reply if I'm lucky.

3) Someone (an East European nation or Scotland - which is essentially the same thing) will have picked a really massive lad up front in the hope that works. It will work once in the group stages but never again. On the same note, there'll be a point where, no matter what sort of football hipster you might be you'll wish England had picked Andy Carroll just for that last 10 minutes as they bring on ever more identikit exciting attacking midfielders but there's no one to hold the bloody ball up for them. Get Madine on!

High quality graphics (practically art) depicting complex tactical plans are sometimes a feature of the MCLF blog experience

4) People pretending they know all about every league in Europe cos they've sneakily looked up the figures as they haven't actually watched any of it but behave as if they have will be annoying as fuck on Twitter and that.

"Carlos deMaris, is the MASTER of the half press and his rotating demi 10 role was the KEY this season for Real Betis"

5) Jordan Pickford will take most of my attention when England play because without Grealish he's the most watchable player. His restless manic battle with his own concentration and wholehearted delight when he gets to do *anything at all* is a delight of the modern age. His goal kicking is high art.

6) At some point there'll be a highlights reel and Dele Alli will be on it and you'll think 'there's a shame - wonder where he is now?"

7) I'll tell anyone willing to listen "Adam Wharton? Yeah, I was actually at his debut..." as if that gives me some kind of insight into his career way above people who've actually watched him play loads but only on the telly.

Having checked what I thought about his debut, it turns out I didn't think about him at all and the only thought I offered on t'Rovers was

Their manager looks like a boring golf club pro. He looks like the kind of man who says 'I love camping!' but owns a camper van not a tent and has all his things ironed and laid out when he goes what he calls 'camping' but is really 'driving a big luxury van house to a field'. He definitely has a gas barbecue that's really clean.

Which is probably a fairly useful guide to the standard of informed content you can expect from this blog regarding the Euros. 

8) Scotland will be awful, a bit better and then actually quite good when it's too late. Either that or they'll be great in the games they can't win and rubbish in the games they can. I will insist that Lawrence Shankland is pure world class despite him not actually being so.

9) Slavan Bilic will be the best pundit and if he's not there I might watch YouTube clips of him being and odd mixture of really intense and strangely dismissive during half time and that will mean he'll still be the best pundit in my head.

10) The whole thing will take what is awful about large scale international tournaments (the global brands covering absolutely everything with logos, the weird atmosphere that comes from stands full of executives and corporate friends of UEFA, the relentless management of every second of build up and post match via music and so on and so on) to a new level

11) You'll want to hate it, but despite it being objectively awful and leaving you yearning for the good old days of shit grounds, a riot and Barry Davies, you'll fall in love with it anyway, because it's football and football is tremendous and no matter what they do around the edges, international football retains something kind of pure about it because you can't buy the other teams best players and that, in an age where in domestic football, a player like Grealish can be bought by a state to gift to their insane Spanish football scientist purely for him to perform bizarre experiments on, is something kind of beautiful. You have to use what you have. There is no way to buy anyone. The end.

The good old days. Washed out colours. No co commentary. Civil war in the UK, countries that don't exist any more. Nigel Worthington. 

12) There'll be a sense that *something is happening that isn't a war, a pandemic, a recession, the slow death of democracy or owt like that* - that will be great because it'll be right there and everywhere and almost everyone will be part of it and even if, like me, you don't actually have a clue, you'll be confidently saying things like 'yes, but that's Mainoo's game and we should exploit that not restrict it' or 'you've got to balance the fact Stones won't just sit in don't you?'

13) At some point, you'll realise you are totally immersed in it and it will feel like it will never end. Just as you notice that, you'll realise there's only a few group games to go and then, it will all suddenly seem to speed up, there'll be less and less and less, like a piece of paper being folded over and over and over, getting smaller and smaller and smaller and then... It'll be gone and you'll feel empty. England almost certainly won't have won. The clock will have ticked over and when the final final whistle blows another two years will have passed in the time it takes for that shrill blast to sound. 

We mark our lives by these things. We work out what year it was by thinking about what happened that summer. Did Gazza cry? Was it when Van Basten swiveled on that volley? Were the Soviet Union in it or was it Russia? Did we fuck up spectacularly against Iceland? Was it the USA? Was it the summer that Tricky Trev got picked by accident and was actually really good? Did Rooney twat one? Was it pre/post Sven? Did we like or loathe Maguire at that point? What pub were you in? Did you watch it on your phone? Who did you hug in the joyful chaos that came before the perennial disappointment? 

Odd years are marked by whether they came before or after even ones.

The first Euros I can remember was Jack Charlton and Ireland. England, failing in grinding it out and falling way short. Ruud Gullit and the Dutch being way better than everyone else. There were only 8 teams and yet, sitting as it does in my childhood memory, it seemed to be impossibly rich and to have lasted for months.

Now I am older, the tournament has about 800 teams and will last 4 times as long, the standard of football will be palpably better in almost every way, the coverage infinitely deeper and the clarity of the TV picture spectacularly sharper.

Somehow, the former will always seem more deep than the latter. Nothing will ever be as visceral as the the things in the past that shaped what we became.

I don't want to miss a kick though. I will, because I'm a person with a job who has to do things other than watch football sometimes.

I resent that hugely. I want to sit and watch the meaningless end of group games between minor European nations, one of whom has a player who used to play for Derby and the other, a bloke who is in the reserves at Bournemouth. I want to have nothing in my life other than this. The childhood freedom of nothing to do other than occasionally tidy your room and scribble the scores on a wall chart. I want to develop strong opinions on Albania or to be right there when Serbia make that substitute and things turn in the way I was when I was 10. I want to badly spell the names of exotic goalscorers in felt tip on shiny paper. Fuck, I want to go to the field and twat a ball against the wall and see myself in my minds eye playing the game I've just watched. Time is cruel. Growing up is overrated. 

I could be cynical. I could write reams about UEFA and corruption and the cold dead hand of television, of global capital and free market ideals strangling the life out of the game. I could do that in a heartbeat and it would probably be better informed and more worthy than this shite I'm churning out right now but underneath all the sideshow hoopla, there is football. 

For all that the fuss around the tournament will inevitably resemble one of those mad Amazon packages where you order a thing that arrives in a box 10 times it's size that contains enough bubble wrap to fill a medium sized sea with micro plastics, ultimately, in the midst of it, at the heart of the thing, at the epicentre of our days and our lives, there will be football.

Ladies and gentlemen. I give you... 'AI' 

I love football. We all do. It's the best game anyone has ever come up with.

Love is all there is. Love and death. So, before we die, let us love. Football is fucking class. Everything else is meaningless distraction.

Onward!

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MCLF has a Patreon programme where you can make the frankly stupid decision to pay some money to get absolutely no bonus content at all (euros accepted).

Alternatively if you appreciate the blog and judge it worth 1p or more, then a donation to one of the causes below which help kids and families in Blackpool would be grand and frankly, the better choice. 

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