All over Spurs in the second half so far, Spurs should be down to 9 men and Wolves have just had a perfectly legitmaite goal ruled out for a foul on Gomes which was never a foul in a month of Sundays.
Everytime I've seen Wolves this season they've played with real heart and fair amount of skill but I've yet to see them win.
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They'll probably be most grateful if you don't watch them again.
Whispering quietly - I quite like big Mick! Less plastic than most of the Prem.
apparently mcarthy interviewed poorly unlike the impressive dowie
As for the Wolves game thought Chris Coleman was an excellent commentator, insightful, down to earth & actually knew what he was talking about (which is something you'd expect to, but often don't find in commentators).
Karma's a bitch!
Yes, Spurs were slightly fortunate to come away with a point but I think we deserved something after scoring those three fantastic goals.
Quite a few top teams have come away from Molineux this season empty-handed, so I think our lads did well.
I agree Hutton should have been sent off and the goal against Gomes should have stood but then again I can name more than a dozen massive decisions which have gone against Spurs this season...about time we had a bit of fortune.
I do agree that these things tend to balance themselves out over the course of a season, but it would be nice if they didn't have to.
The problem with commentators for ever going on about evening out is that it isn't true.
For instance the Hutton non-sending off and the "foul" on Gomes definitely cost Wovles the game. There may be times later in the season where Wolves get a soft goal, or an opponent is sent off for a soft foul, supposedly evening it out, but will the circumstances be as pivotal?
Happy to put my hands up and admit i was one of them. In fact i'd ridiculed Mr McCarthy in one of my first articles i published on here in Aug 06. Time for a bit of memory lane below......
It’s AFKA, or gaffer to you sunshine!
So everyone knows that two things are guaranteed whenever a professional football club decides to change manager.
Firstly, all current out of work ex-pros put down the bottle of scotch, dust off their tracksuits and consider how they will lift the un-managed club back to glory. Secondly, every local nutter will think it will be hilarious to enter the race, based on a successful run on Championship Manager.
That Charlton crazily decided to advertise the job on a national level, only served to open the doors to these lunatics throughout not just in South London, but the whole country. And with the decision to enter this medium via the Daily Mail, the chances were that 90% of the candidates would be pro-fox hunting xenophobes, or Big Ron to be precise.
So what has this to do with me? Very good question. And to be honest, I really don't know what prompted me to get involved. I wasn't a student, I wasn't a nutter and I've never even played Championship Manager. I think it must have been the speculation that Mick McCarthy was applying that prompted me into action. I knew I only had a small chance, but any possible opportunity to dislodge Mental Mick was a chance worth taking.
In truth, curiosity as to what reply I would get from the club got the better of me. I knew I had no chance on managerial record, so my approach was to charm Murray, Reg & Co. I fired off the following letter:
Dear Mr Varney,
I'm writing to apply for the position of First Team Manager.
I believe I would be a cost-effective alternative worth considering, as I only wish to apply for the role on a part-time basis. My current employer has a very attractive final-salary pension scheme that would be irresponsible to withdraw from, for an unsecure short-term industry such as football management.
My credentials are impressive; For the past eight years I have successfully managed Albany Rangers in Kent Suburban League, overseeing the club to three promotions. Ok, we have also suffered two relegations in this period, but on both occasions our seasons were decimated by a succession of stag weekends. Unlike a whinging Tottenham manager, my lads consistently turn out on Sunday mornings with upset stomachs. We recently were successful in the club's only cup final appearance, in front of a crowd of 150. I think this proves my ability to perform and motivate on the big stage.
Tactically, I am somewhat of a revolutionary. I believe essential, but only minute changes are needed to turn Charlton into a club challenging for honours. Alan Curbishley has worked hard over the years turning Charlton into the best 'sideways-playing' side in the country, led by masters in this field such as Keith Jones. My tactical switch to success would see all the players turning ninety degrees, to play facing towards the opposition goal. I know these changes will cause unrest amongst the playing staff (particularly Kish and Holland), but I have the strong character to enforce these adaptations.
Finally, and just between me and you, I can imagine the directors were sick to the teeth of Curbishley dragging them off to Devon and Dorset for the 'away from the missus' pre-season jolly. Well, with me at the helm, I'd ensure that pre-season tours would be enjoyable trips to cultural areas such as Bangkok and Torremolimos.
Why should Freddie Shepherd have all the fun, eh?
If required for an interview, please note Tuesday night (darts) and Fridays (lads’ night) are no-no's.
Yours to Success
AFKA Bartram
So there you have it. The deed was done. The letter entered the post and from that moment, I was officially 'in the race'. I'll admit, Paddy Power and the betting exchanges, seemed uninterested. But I was reassured knowing that Charlton never do their best work in public. I'd just completed my FA Level 1 coaching badge with flying colours, and confidence was high.
When Peter Taylor dropped out of the frame, and permission for Parkinson refused, it appeared that the list was down to three; Davies, Dowie and Bartram.
I started to panic, had I prepared my presentation thoroughly enough? Tuesday darts was cancelled and even the wife was drawn in to assist with the five-year plan. I was going to be strong; they want a leader, a motivator who demands respect. The players would know who was boss. Benty may well have scored 20-odd goals, but I won't be Bart, or Barty, its AKFA or gaffer to you sunshine.
Davies fell away, the search was closing. Nerves were kicking in. And then came the letter; plain white envelope addressed to Mr Bartram (by this stage the wife was seriously questioning my sanity). I opened it with anticipation. Did I need to bring my flip charts for a two-hour presentation to the board? Did they feel I could get Jason Euell to resemble a footballer again? Did they 'eck:
Dear Mr Bartram
TEAM MANAGER VACANCY
Thank you for you recent application for the post of Team Manager.
Unfortunately, you do not hold the relevant qualifications required by the FA Premier League and therefore your application will not be progressed further.
I wish you well in your future career
With Best Wishes
Yours sincerely
Peter Varney
And there you have it. After all that, it was my own bloody fault.
Having concentrated so much on staying away from the Championship Manager clique, I completely forgot to mention my FA Level 1 badge. If they knew I was 'on the ladder', they could have swung it, surely? The Geordies certainly did (I bet Roeder was promising the same pre-season tours).
I guess my face just didn' fit; I wasn't the 'safe hands' that was needed. My humiliation was later compounded by their decision to appoint a manager with an engineering degree. How very, very Charlton. Like searching into Kent for new found well-bred support, they favoured a post-grad over the local, working class boy.
Defeated, but with dignity intact. There was only one course of action. If I wanted to get anywhere in this game, I was going to have to drop to the very bottom, the depth of the profession, in order to work my way back up. With a big gulp of breath, and the remains of my dignity going with it, I applied for the Crystal Palace job.
If Peter Taylor and Mental Mick could swallow their self-respect, so could I.
Trying it on with Jordan
So that was it then. Crudely rejected by the club I love. Not even a smiley face on Reg's reply, let alone an interview. Iain Dowie was the man given the task of taking my club forward.
Knowing (presumably) that I got down to the last two, made it an even more bitter pill to suffer. They could have told me when they threw McCarthy's application in the bin; they could even have told me when they didn't find Peter Taylor's ‘Mr Grimsdale’ impression very funny at his interview. Murray and Reg have played with my emotions and I was determined to make them pay.
Against my better judgement, I knew deep down the one thing that would get to Richard Murray would be to see Crystal Palace rising beyond the fizzy-pop league and scaling the heights of the Premiership. Simon Jordan had promised to make the Glaziers the biggest club South of the Thames, and he seems a man of his word to me. I would ride in his saloon to success and stick two fingers up at Charlton. I'll show that Murray.
I pondered the implications. My friends would disown me. Not only working for 'that lot', but leading them as well ?
Could I live with it?
I reckon I could; a sad, lonely life encourages ruthlessness, if Jordan was anything to go by.
And what about the travel problems? Ideally, I would have preferred a club in the north to have been closer to my family (wink, wink), but fortunately I still had a handy leaflet from 1985 giving me helpful instructions on the route to Selhurst Park, and details of what public transport I could use. It doesn' look far to be honest, and I' sure the traffic on a Saturday lunchtime isn''t too bad. Plus, it would have the advantage that I could handily pop into Sainsbury's straight after a game. That would earn me brownie points with the wife.
So, the decision was made; I went for it. I fell down on the Charlton position due to my footballing credentials. A good leader never makes the same mistake twice. Jordan won't be bamboozled by my tactics, or experience, outright bribery was the way forward. I penned the following letter:
23rd May 2006
Dear Mr Jordan,
I’m writing to apply for the position of First Team Manager. Now lets be honest, my appointment would certainly cause a shock in the football fraternity, but I believe you are the type of strong, driven character that is not afraid to make brave decisions (plus it would definitely guarantee a predominant picture of yourself in the press).
As you may well know, I recently missed out at the final hurdle for the Charlton managerial position. I’m presuming they felt the step up from the Kent Suburban League to the Premiership to be too great a gulf. That will not be a problem in this instance.
Now I know full well that you will have applications from managers with far more prestigious footballing backgrounds than myself (and Mick McCarthy), so I think the best way to go about this is to leave you with thoughts on what I could offer you above and beyond footballing terms.
It’s no secret (to be fair, you do keep telling the world) that you have invested a hell of a lot of money into Crystal Palace, with limited return. You surely must be looking towards scaling back your expenses some time soon. With the Ugly Brothers on the payroll, you also showed you were a firm believer in a strong family ethic.
With that in mind, please consider the following very seriously. My wife runs a successful tanning parlour in South London, and she is offering you two free twenty minute sessions a week (may not be enough for you, but we can negotiate). Further, my uncle is a very successful hair stylist (please don’t believe the rumours, he loves his wife, and the Brazilian lad who sweeps the floor is just a very good friend). My uncle has said he is willing to do whatever that is on the top of your head, anytime you want. Sally Gunnell is a long-standing client, so he knows your requirements.
Soft favours I agree. But I think the killer selling point is my aunt. Now she works in the canteen at the BBC, and has always slid an extra rasher of bacon on the plate of the director of Dragon’s Den. Now they get on famously. I’ve no doubt that she would be willing to put in a good word for you and get shot of that Peter Jones. Or topping that, how about Theo Pathetis? Now that would really shove those ‘Palace, Palace who the f**k are Palace’ jibes back down his throat.
I’ll leave you to ponder. In footballing terms, my only immediate decision would be to change the kit. I believe the (almost) traditional stripes have been one of the main reasons Palace have continued to underperform over the years. Every fashion guru under the sun will tell you that stripes make you look slimmer. The logic is obvious to me, the opposition are clearly un-intimidated and believe the pitch to be larger than it is. Put them in hoops, fatten them up, and make the opposition go the long way round, that’s what I say.
I excitedly await your response.
AFKA Bartram
And I waited, and I waited, and I waited.
Reports that he was conducting interviews in Spanish nightclubs thrilled me. My ‘Running Man’, ‘Caterpillar’, and ‘Robotics’ would surely be in a different league to those of John Gregory. (BTW, Gregory’s obsession with Bruce Springsteen??? What's that all about? You may well love 'The Boss' Gregory, but you're never going to be one again.)
Alas, Taylor was installed. Fair play to the lad, he'd gone away, tweaked the Norman Wisdom routine and come back fighting. I take my hat off to the fella and wish him well. Jordan on the other hand didn't even have the decency to reply. The cutback in expenses have already started, it seems, beginning with stamps; Palace fans be warned. Its a shame, I think he would have done a good job on Dragons Den.
And me I hear you ask? Well I'm back where it all started, another wind-exposed season in the Kent Suburban League down at Hall Place, scooping up dog cr*p, whilst the lads are getting changed. Apparently, Mick McCarthy has taken over The Red Lion on pitch two, so at least we can swap a few yarns. I'm a bit disappointed, but at the end of the day, Sinatra called it right:
Regrets, I've had a few, but then again, I could have applied for Millwall.