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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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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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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You can follow MCLF on facebook or Twitter or use Follow.it to get posts sent to your email 

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. 

  Home-Start Blackpool Food Bank

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