Mr. Wilson Hall of Fame Entrant Number Two

Last time round we found our first member of, begingered gremlin Mr. Wilson's, Hall of Fame. Big ol' hunk of burning journeyman Trevor Benjamin trundled out and presented his literally mental footballing quest. It was like something Tolkien thought of writing but ended up as a screwed up ball of paper in the bin because it was too bloody long and LITERALLY MENTAL.Well, we left it a couple of weeks, to let the dust settle again before we ventured back up and Lil' Wilson's head popped up out of a Match annual from 1994, his eyes gleaming with joy. It seems Mr. Wilson has already picked our next inductee into the Hall of Fame. He didn't need to say a word, his face was a picture as he showed us a picture of:

None other than Phillip Andrew Babb. Have a seat and we'll tell you a little story about why Mr. Wilson and ourselves couldn't wipe the grins from our little faces.

He's a Londaaanaaa

Born in Laaaaaaambefffff in 1970, by 1988 he had been snapped up by footballing giants Millwall. Obviously not seeing Phil's potential as a future Spice Boy and scoring mental own goals they let him move to Bradford where he made 80 appearances. Millwall may have been left rueing their decision of never giving Babb his debut for the club because he scored on his debut for The Bantams and went on to score 10 goals for them in his first season. After a successful second season whewre Phil almost managed to drag Bradford kicking and screaming to promotion, Coventry launched an audacious £500,000 bid which took him to Highfield Road in 1992, an event that easily overshadowed Boris Yeltsin's announcement that Russia would no longer target missiles at the US.

World Cup '94 and solid performances all round

Phil Babb's performances in the Premier League's first season for a founding club challenging the top 5 were nothing short of spectacularly solid. He also played in the World Cup of 1994 and won much praise, especially with a quality performance against Italy and the viv and vim of legendary Roberto Baggio. These spectacularly solid 77 appearances and thoroughly decent World Cup piqued the attention of Graeme Souness who paid £3.6 million for Phil, making him the most expensive English defender of all time, at that moment in time. He joined fellow defensive legends, new signing, Stig Inge Bjornebeye, Steve Harkness and Rob Jones. He swiped a League Cup winners medal and played with the infamous 'Spice Boys', a title referring to his awesome singing voice. He was most comparable to Sporty Spice, obviously. Anyway, back to the football, the past time Phil was really good at...

Lé Francais Owl, El Portuguese rise, The Wae'ay decline + Starsky and Hutch

Gerard Houllier, the French owl-man took over from departing Roy Evans and being a bird of prey he struck hard and fast and removed Babb from the first team and the reserves. Phil was loaned out to Tranmere, probably the greatest player they've ever had play for them. This fact was proved true when Portuguese giants Sporting Lisbon decided to take him to Estadio Jose Alvlade where after an initial settling in period he hit his stride and as Sporting Clube De Portugal took the league title and won the domestic cup our Phil was voted player of the season. It wasn't long before the Premier League came calling for one of the league's greatest defender's of all time. He played 48 games for Sunderland, but not even the mighty Babb-effect could prevent their slide to relegation. And so ended a career spanning two of the world's greatest clubs, 35 international appearances and numerous scenes of drunk and disorderly behaviour (he re-enacted scenes from Starsky and Hutch with his crime-fighting/footballing partner Mark Kennedy by sliding across a stranger's car after a few too many Babycham's... Genius).

And of course he destroyed his ball bag and pelvis by hurtling into a goalpost at 40 miles per hour.

Have a link or two to the face area!

Scrotum death (Aptly it's got the world's biggest scrotum Rory McGrath introducing it):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dONtFBuCztM

A rather more accurate blog from a rather more reliable source:

http://www.liverpoolway.co.uk/blog/?p=103

I'm off to sing the Phil Babb lament, JR.

Prophet Rudgey Time Again

It's near the end of the month, not quite pay day and you need some extra coppers to swell your coffers. Who could possibly aid you in your time of need?

Look no futher than your local bookmaking prophet Adam Rudge. His bet this week comes with a gargantuan sign saying "LUMP ON SON!"

Chelsea win.



Tottenham win.

Man City win.

Over 2.5 goals in the Man Utd. v Liverpool game and over 10.5 corners in the same game.



Remember what happened last week? Be a sensible Steve.

Tippin's Classic WBA Match

John has opted for images rather than words this week for his second classic West Bromwich Albion game. To be honest I am sullying it by even attempting to introduce it...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XTAMsgAdsII

Bloody lovely.

HISTON UPDATE!!!1!!

Histon, by TS Eliot

Although a sunny autumn day, a chill was in the air
As Forest Green and Histon lined up to compare
Their respective footballing abilities;
In the background, on the concourse, pies steamed
Their fillings molten.

A poor start for the home team, Forest Green found the net
Jonathan Smith, not just an alias, poking home a volley that he met
With grace and composure;
The atmosphere at Glassworld electric
Like a strange Amazonian fish.

Forest Green absorbed the pressure, resolute by any measure
Until half time was drowned out by the snapping of their tether
And Histon equalized;
The crowd rose to the feet
Including those for whom arthritis and artificial hips presented difficulties.

Although the first half was evenly matched
After the interval the Hampshire spartans were at length dispatched
As Histon, after early wobbles, raced into a 4-1 lead;
The scorers were Barker, Simpson, Wright
And I should have put that in the next stanza because a lot of things rhyme with Wright.

Forest Green respond with a 87th minute penalty, alas too late
As the aforementioned Wright powers home again to demonstrate
His team’s overall superiority on the day;
Another good win for Histon
Who are now level on points with neighbours Cambridge United.

November is not the cruelest month, not for Histon at least
It will be April before the capricious hand of fortune fully frees the beast
Of mid table obscurity;
In a fruit fight they could probably bruise if not bust a grape
They got 99 Problems but a surfeit of success ain’t one.

'Ay Up, You've Got Some Money There Then'

Our new resident tipster only went and got a debut goal and man of the match performance didn't he? If you were on Adam Rudge's treble you would have been raking it in, like Steve was. I said you would didn't I?

Anyway, just to let you all know that I've got a nice little football merchandise website for you that you may or may not be aware of. You probably are because it's a pretty well respected name in the merchandising arena. The reason i draw your attention to this one is the splendibuloutary (NEW WORD SCORE +800) collection of retro shirts. Also, their badass range of Johan Cruyff shirts.

http://www.toffs.com/icat/cruyffclassics

JOHAN CRUYFF IS GOD.

Ahem... God bless and goodnight... The blessing is from real God, not Johan, well... 'Real' God, you know... That's if you believe in him... Well...

Adam Rudge, Prophet From The Football Gods

The Steven Carr Has Hit A Small Blimp blog has managed to pull some strings and through some intensive networking and by badgering some important contacts bagged professional gambler and all round addictive personality Adam Rudge. When I say we did all that stuff what I am really trying to say is that I just asked my brother to give us some tips on a weekly basis. But he's still good, honest...

Here is his chubble of tipster magic for all you footballing punters out there. In a Liam Gallacher stylee he says "Get on this our kid!":

Aston Villa vs. Chelsea

Go for over 10.5 corners in the game

Go big on a Stoke, Blackburn and Fulham treble.

And that's all you're getting this week so go, go before the prophet gets angry and the betting gods slash the odds.

We guarantee you will look like 'Steve' below, he is one of Adam Rudge's disciples and look how much bloody money he's got it. He can afford to throw it around, though he is always sure to wear a tie clip while recklessly tossing his money about, no one wants their tie to rip or get caught in a shredder now do they? Steve may be loaded but he remains sensible. Sensible Steve.

Less of a blog, more of a ramble

What? You can't blame me for rambling when I've been off work for a week with a broken toe, sustained in a hero's performance for La Liga Division C side FC Riga, and nothing to do but watch Sky Sports Update and ESPN Classic. The latter of which I am doing as I type. I'm sitting through an awesome game between Holland and England which took place in the group stage of Euro 1988. I am finding that I am still willing England to win but the fact is compared to the Dutch side we look woeful. Hoddle has been spraying some nice long range balls around and has looked immacuately composed on the ball but the constant pressure play of Holland has meant he hasn't had time to pick the passes he would ideally wish to play. Bryan Robson has been England's best player, putting Steven Gerrard to shame, he played a tight one-two in the area with Beardsely and with his deftness and speed of touch, dinked the ball over the oncoming goalkeeper. A fresh faced, twenty one year old Tony Adams has looked like an intelligent prospect at centre-half. But beyond that England have nothing. Barnes has been impotent, Lineker has shown how dangerous he can be when the ball is put in the area but without ever really getting even half a chance and everyone else looks decidedly average.







Holland look near on perfect. Every player playing an integral part of each move and that's not to mention the individual and combined talents of their big three: Frank Rikjaard, Ruud Gullit and Marco Van Basten. Once Holland had broke the deadlock, been pinned back, taken the lead through Van Basten's second of the game they went looking for the third, which they found, again through Marco Van Basten's lasered left foot shot into the bottom right corner of Peter Shilton's net. Once Holland go two goals up, once they have that relatively comfortable margin it is like their is a collective deep breath and a gratifying, magical, liberating exhalation. Upon this glorious breath out, the Dutch become unplayable. The reason is that they are finally unburdened from the heavy load of the expectation to play football matches to win, they start playing football matches because they love playing football. They start having fun, they look like fourteen year old kids down the park, knocking the ball around a much inferior set of kids trying to conjure up the most inventive phases of play to amuse themselves. Each player wants to play a part in a wonderful, flowing move almost like eleven (yes, the goalkeeper for Duth sides usually play, effectively, as a sweeper) bakers all wanting to add some of their own marvellous technique and ability to the world's most wonderous cake. If a goal comes of it then that is like just plopping a splendid, perfectly formed cherry on top.



Anyway, I've got to go as I'm about to watch the France vs. Spain Euro 1984 final. I might just have to forget about getting signed back to work and take up a resident position in front of ESPN Classic FOR THE REST OF TIME.

J.Tip's List of Favourite WBA Games

Our very own John Tipper has begun compiling a list of his favourite West Bromwich Albion games from the past five years and this game is his first, I too remember this game well. It was so awesome I punched straight through my mom and dad's mattress. They still don't know. Here is Tippin's mini-match report of the game between the free-flowing Baggies and Steve Bruce's Wigan Athletic side:

"This is my first: 2008 – 09 West Bromwich Albion 3 – 1 Wigan Athletic (Saturday 9th May, The Hawthorns). A game with huge personal significance, and possibly the most cathartic 90 minutes of my life to date. I don’t want to exploit the nauseating tabloid sentimentality that pervades contemporary British life, from the X Factor down, so I’ll just say that an Albion win against far superior opposition is as eloquent a tribute to a late Smethwick native as ever there can be. In this particular game we matched our enterprise with sheer determination; this was perhaps exemplified in the second half when, with the score locked at 1-1, Marc Antoine-Fortune was gracelessly felled inside the Wigan area and Chris Brunt stepped up to take the resultant penalty. He fired a tame shot too close to Richard Kingson in the Wigan goal but the ball fell kindly at his feet and, after a heartstopping moment when he paused as if suddenly remembering he’d left the oven on, slammed the ball into the net with relish. Cue hysteria from the home faithful, at last scenting survival after weeks in the footballing wilderness. Sadly, even though Antoine-Fortune gave the result further gloss by adding a deserved third goal late on, it was not meant to be; however, in edging out a team featuring some excellent players – including the sublimely gifted, Manchester United bound Valencia – West Bromwich Albion restored some pride and ensured that when Liverpool condemned us to the Championship the following week we could go down with heads unbowed."

Ashley Cole Is A Bragaining Chip... Except Not.

"When I got back it became clear that Arsenal were late to open up negotiations, Madrid were nowhere and all the paper talk was about Chelsea. Peter Kenyon made a £16 million offer but David Dein wanted £30 million; the same man who had told the FAPL inquiry that my value was between £15 and £20 million. I felt like a bargaining chip, with the stakes too high. It felt to me that Arsenal had done nothing to keep me and now it seemed obstacles were piling up at the exit door." - From Ashley Cole's book entitled 'Ho's, Chelsea Bro's and A Side-Order of Cash'

Ashley, you bloody massive bargaining chip you. Of course, good ol' Ashley Cole; The Bargaining Chip, The Ultimate Talent Blag, The Vole Faced Number Three, cAshley Cole or quite simply The Douche. Over the last, well, over the last forever I have concluded that Ashley Cole is simply a douche bag. I propose he is now only referred to as The Douche. Oh no, I'm not alone either. I've been doing some research and pretty much every celebrity of epic proportions is saying the same thing. Arguably the world's greatest ever celebrity politician, Barack Obama, says:

"Ashley Cole is still a threat. We cannot pretend somehow that because Barack Hussein Obama got elected as president, suddenly everything is going to be OK. "

Even Superman Obama himself agrees getting rid of Ashley Cole is a superhuman task too far for even him to cope with.

And here, international King of Everything Bono(bo) who, as we all know knows the ultimate truth about everything from low-fat yoghurt to the truth about what really happened in the Dark Ages has his say on the whole Ashley Cole problem:

"As a rock star, I have three instincts, I want to have fun, I want to change the world and I want to know why Ashley Cole is such a douche. I have a chance to do all three."

Finally, to bring our point home is our gracious and glorious leader, please welcome Mr. Sepp Blatter:

"What I am most proud of is the legacy of hope that FIFA and football leaves around the world. It makes all of the efforts and energy I pour into this job worth it. And Ashley Cole is a bit of a douche, so I'd better sort that out aswell."

As you can see for yourselves, I'm not alone. If Ashley isn't moving from the footballing paradise of Arsene Wenger's Arsenal to the giant pot of gold that is Roman Abramovich's Chelski then he is openly philandering while his wife sits at home, sewing, knitting and waiting to do him some beans on toast when he gets in because as we all know Cheryl doesn't get out much, bless her. He was also once dropped as the face of Nokia, why on earth he was the face of Nokia anyway I'm not sure. Maybe the CEO's and Marketing executives at Nokia were binged off their faces on herbal ecstasy and were too busy listening to drum and bass and grinding their teeth to really give a shit about who they were signing up.

"Screw it man, I'm buzzing, just tell Ashley Cole he can have it. He is LITERALLY the most money hungry man in the world. Now pass me that bottle of Evian, I'm scared I'm going to get dehydrated but then again, you can overhydrate can't you? I love you man."

I bet that is exactly how it happened. Anyway, when the comedown hit and the executives looked at the papers the next day they were so appalled at the claims Ashley Cole was 'a raging homo' that they dropped him faster than they dropped those 'Ultimate Xphoria' pills.

Graeme Le Saux suffered similar allegations which leads me to believe that left-backs are prone to such accusations. I'm not at all in the mood or, in fact, ever will be in the mood to try and eke out some kind of reason behind this but it has conveniently led me to my actual point. My actual point is that:

ASHLEY COLE IS RUBBISH AT PLAYING FOOTBALL.

I mean, honestly, he has got to be the most overrated player in the history of man. He practically pisses all over second-highest paid talent blag Didier Drogba. I imagine they share rooms at away games and they lie there like little, mischevious imps, trying not to wake Carlo Ancelotti with their giggling about how they have managed to earn more in a year than somebody with real talent (Paul Peschisolido, the true heir to Pelé's crown) earns in a lifetime. Graeme Le Saux, by his own admission wasn't the greatest English left-back of all time, he wasn't even the greatest Chelsea left-back of all time but I bet the first thought he has as soon as his head leaves the pillow in the morning is that he will always, always be better than Ashley Cole. I couldn't quite decide whether or not to write this little piece, I had some how found a way to contain this beast that was trying to force it's way out of me but when I saw him trying to perform a drag-back on the edge of his own area in the great unseen England game against the Ukraine my vision went blurry and the room shook. My commemorative Port Vale vs. West bromwich Albion 1993 Play-Off china plate fell from it's perch... When I awoke my clothes were torn and my house didn't exist anymore, but even more shocking was that I found the draft of this very article scrawled in blood on a piece of lined A3 paper. Once I had deciphered it, it was rather crumpled and as I've said written in my own plasma, I went to town and bloody well published this writing what you am reading now. Hope you enjoyed it, I'm off to the Nokia headquarters to go and have it large with some marketing executives. You'd be suprised what bangin' tunes they have on those Blackberry's of theirs.

HISTON UPDATE II!

This weekend Histon beat Tamworth 3-1 in the Staffordshire sunshine. The game lasted 90 minutes with a break midway through ('half-time'), with the travelling team registering a brace of goals and then another. The home tea got only a single.
N.B. As I am on holiday in Mumbles Bay, this report was ghostwritten by former Southampton chairman Rupert Lowe

Lest We Forget

An absolutely genius idea, only let down by poor execution of said genius idea.

Get on this chunk of YouTube magic:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LYAhv5JWorM

Introducing The Mr. Wilson Hall of Fame

Darkness and silence. A shuddering thump and light strikes up from some white underbelly to rupture the blind black dark.
"Bloody hell John, I've found the motherload! It's like that fucking God's jewel box in Jason and The Argonauts, bagsy getting the brooch pin javelin!"
As the two John's clambered up into the dust storm they couldn't help but feel like this was their Howard Carter moment. They had uncovered a vast treasure trove of football gold. They saw many artefacts. Record books, Panini stickers in abundance, an old trophy cabinet and not least of all hundreds of footballers... The first person to confront them, blinking against the light was a certain Mr. Wilson, his ginger bonce reflecting the dust that had settled on all these ex-pro's. The last time I saw his diminuative figure it had been dazzling twelve year olds and enjoying it far too much. You see, once on Hull FC's books, his hometown club had let him go forcing him into a career as a Physical Education teacher. Years of sizeist and ginger-based ridicule and abuse must've driven him to set up this den of inequity, faded glory, home of the generally forgotten. To many these descriptions may have applied, but to me and my hombre John this was a hall of fame... Mr. Wilson's Hall of Fame.
Here is a picture of Mr. Wilson when he played for Hull as a lad:

The next unlikely character stepped forward, Mr. Wilson used his magic wind breath to blow the dust away. Well, imagine our suprise to find that it was none other than Leonardo (from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) look-a-like Big Trev. COWABUNGA. What a result, the first resident of Mr. Wilson's Hall of Fame is Trevor Benjamin.

Born on the 8th of February 1979 little Trevor Benjamin should have known he was going to develop into a shining star of English league football, he only shared a birthdate with King Afonso IV of Portugal and none other than Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo who is one of the blokes from Daft Punk, I think. As he blinked and gasped on entry to this realm, little did he know he would be joining his popular dance lovin' brother in travelling 'Around The World' (MUSIC TRIVIA +10) playing for twenty one different league clubs, at time of counting of course.

The Beginning of The Journey

His professional career began at Cambridge United where he made an unauspicious debut in a thrilling 0-0 draw with the mighty Gillingham side of 1995. He went on to make a name for himself at the club scoring 46 goals in 146 appearances, what he was doing in the one hundred he didn't scoring God only knows, probably saving the world or performing a half-decent stand in job for the perpetual wantaway, traffic cone known as Emile Heskey when he moved to Leicester City for a transfer fee of £1.3 million and he managed to clock up just over 80 appearances, scoring 17 goals and in the process breaking a Leicester City club record. He is the current holder of the club's 'Most Appearances Made As A Substitute' record, managing to total 54 substitute appearances. When one looks at this closely you will notice that if you subtract the amount of substitute appearances from the total games played it leaves you with 26 starts and 17 goals. AN AWESOME RETRUN. If you ask me Craig Levein knows about as much about football as I know about Dairylea Traingles, and I think we all know that I know only one thing about those little triangles of sick and that is that they are horrible and make me want to commit suicide whenever I even smell one. Nonetheless when the Scottish stupid-head took charge he cancelled our Trev's contract and so began the infamous 'Great Loan Era'.

The Great Loan Era

He travelled from Crystal palace to Norwich City to West Bromwich Albion to Gillingham to Rushden and Diamonds to brighton and Hove Albion and finally to Northampton Town where he managed to secure himself a personal contract. All in all Trevor managed to score 12 goals in 40 appearances which when you imagine the problems numerous other players have settling into a club before they start banging them in Big Benjo' moved seven times in roughly three years and still managed to produce a very decent season's worth of goals amidst all of the new faces, new grounds and new game plans he would have had to adapt to. I bet Craig Levein had turned to the drink by now, losing sleep and generally looking in the mirror every morning knowing he had let everyone down. He signed permanently for Northampton Town after his loan spell then left to permanently join Coventry City under Micky 'Overbite' Adams back when he was still viewed as a credible manager. He was released by Adams in the summer of 2006 and so began Mickey's slide into the depths of management despair, yet another coach left rueing a catastrophic blunder. Management Rule #1. Don't ever release The Trev.

The Posh and The Second Great Loan Era

The final big move for our homie Trev was to Peterborough United where he signed a three year contract of which he faithfully served a year before beginning the 'Second Great Loan Era' where he travelled to see the sights and sample the metropolitan football lifestyle of Watford, Swindon, Boston United and Walsall where he acquired a new saddle for his faithful steed Emile whom had loyally carried him from club to club, requiring only the occassional oatmeal bar and a few mouthfuls of Powerade-soaked polos. However, that saddle would soon be worn out as Trevor travelled the land in search of a manager that would finally tap his fabulous potential. He racked up a solid ten goals in 34 appearances at Hereford before scoring a further 7 goals on his ever lengthening quest for football glory taking in Gainsborough Trinity, Northwitch Victoria, Hednesford Town, Wellingborough Town, Kidsgrove Athletic, Tamworth, where he swapped ageing Emile for a more pacey Tamworth breed pig and finally to Harrogate Town where he is playing as we speak because Trevor Benjamin never sleeps. He plays football constantly, every day of his life he is playing the beautiful game and I'm not going to lie to you I don't think he'll ever stop. A real legend and should be included in the football thesaurus as a substitute for the word 'Journeyman'.

Unfortunately because of his sheer awesomeness which can never be processed by any current technology, apparently he is a big favourite with The Vulcans, the only footage available on the human internet is this clip on YouTube. Bask in the glory:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T8y2lkrnA3o

N.B. Trevor Benjamin played one Under 21 game for England and made one appearance for Jamaica so Mickey, Craig... Lads, you let an international go for free. You want to have a look at yourselves boys. Seriously.

NEW! Football's Been Framed

ITV refused to show the England vs. Ukraine game because watching people on grainy VHS footage fall into paddling pools and idiots not ensuring deck chairs are appropriately assembled before sitting on them is infinetly better television, Here are some footballers falling over in poor quality YouTube video footage:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i87dgLP1a9U&feature=PlayList&p=C2DA5C770A6BE984&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=25

Serious John's Part I - t3h Int3rNeTtZ5zz r t@kInG 0vA!!1!

"The robots are taking over... FULL STOP!" - The Streets

It would seem Mr. Skinner's prophetic demo tune may have proved true before it's time. Just as everyone is talking about how no human can live without access to the internet comes the hammer blow that could just break the camel's back. The England versus Ukraine game is only available via streaming it through the internet, this catastrophe might well just bring the internet community and it's billions of junkies crashing down to earth with a thundering symphony of broken qwerty keyboards and shattered Intel Celeron processors. The backlash that is currently bubbling, all gruesome, angry and full of malicious intent, much like Lee Cattermole, is set to be unleashed come Saturday. As Wayne Rooney performs his quadricep stretches, little does he know the whole virtual world will be crumbling as English and Ukranian football fans alike tear down the very cyber-fabric of the internet's thin, silk, sarong and expose the whole Interweb as a pointless blip on this pointless blip of a planet's pointless blip of a timeline... Not blip actually, that's far too 'technologoical sounding innit'.
Of course, none of this will happen and of course no one really wants it to happen. The whole debacle and debate surrounding this issue of streaming a football match on the internet has grown out of all proportion. This deformed giant really has no deformed giant legs to stand on. Many people are decrying the fact that the internet has somehow been able to obtain the rights to one of our lovely human football matches, as though 't3h It3rNeTtZ5zz' is some kind of sentient being out to relieve us of our national game when the fact of the matter is Kentaro, the owner's of the rights to show the game, simply didn't recieve enough interest from any of television's biggest hitters. BBC and ITV were too worried about their overblown 'Ratings War' between 'Strictly, Come On Bruce Forsyth Really?!?!' and 'The £ Factor', also apparently the new series of 'You've Been Framed' starts and really, who would want to watch the English national team play a qualifier inthe Earth's greatest sports competition when that would be so obviously interfering with some bumbling grandad tripping over his caravan's mains supply cable? I ask you. It seems, however, that the main sticking point for the vast majority of the anti-englandukraineontheinternetdebate is the cost of watching it on the internet. The Times Online blog states: "They [England supporters] will be forced to log on to the internet and pay up to £11.99 for live coverage of the match." This suggests that Fabio Capello is going to rock up in a metallic purple low-ride Escalade and put a Glock 17 to your temple and demand in his loveable broken English "You'sa need'a to pay to watch'a us'a play EH?! Capiche?! You understand?Otherwise you'll be'a taking a itty-bitty swim with the fishes eh?!" Firstly, 'log on' to the internet, for an internet blog they sound like a Dickensian character talking about the internet. I can't remember ever 'logging on' to the internet. Secondly, no one is being forced to pay £11.99 to watch the England game. Just like no one is forced to pay their monthly subscription to Sky Sports. it's just another case of supply and demand. Would it have been better for Kentaro to have just kept hold of the rights and shown it on their completely defunct and non-exsistent channel Setanta? Or maybe they could just give us a semi-fictional match report (nothing like theHiston updates we so accurately provide on this blog). I know that many people are laying the blame in the right place and I'm just going to long-jump in and drop my little chunk at the feet of the federations. FIFA and UEFA are the real culprits here, well along with the BBC and ITV, we expected more lads. As the Mark Perryman of the England Supporter's Association said earlier in the week: “A qualifier should be available for everybody on free-to-air TV. Fifa and Uefa should insist asa condition of entry that all nations sell their games to terrestrial stations, whether home or away.” I think this is a move that would benefit the image of football as a whole, returning it to the staple of football around the world, your everyman. Nearly every extraordinary footballer throughout the ages has grown up a victim of their social situation, poor and with little to fill his heart with happiness but the love of watching and playing a humble game called football. It is an inevitable progression in the evolutionary scale of the game that money would become such an integral part of the game and in many ways it has benifited it. The financial growth working in a symbiotic circle with the growth and outreach of the sport. However, by taking away the availability of an England match on a TV or big screen down your local boozer you are taking away, not only the chance for younglings around the country to watch their heroes form a dream team of the best English players of the time but also you are removing an integral part of the community spirit that the is one of the founding elements of the beautiful game of OURS. The internet is an amazing and useful tool to the human race so the fact it is absorbing the human race's favourite sport is no suprise, look at the amount of websites, podcasts and super awesome blogs ;-) already devoted to it. Streaming of football matches is already a widely used feature of the internet and isn't really such an earth-shaking event that the sensationalising TV and newspaper pundits are making it out to be. They are painting a picture of a darkened room, lit only by the blueish light of a laptop screen with a gremlin draped in a ragged St. George's cross hunched over it probably eating a microwave burger and drinking a Red Bull and 'Twittering' and 'Facebooking' nude pictures to each other while purchasing the latest 'Hoodie' and 'iPhone' to waste their lives away on instead of getting out and playing football. This monster is rare if it even exsists at all. We all still enjoy watching a match in the presence of other people. A trip to any public house come 3.00 Saturday afternoon or Sunday lunchtime wil prove the theory. Or the tens of thousands in attendance at football grounds around the nation. The real villains of the piece are all abbreviations: BBC, ITV and FIFA. Let's just all sit back and see how Saturday turns out, I'm sure you'll find a way of watching the match just as I will. Let's just sit back and see how the experiment unfolds. Rather than railing against it, why not see how we can make this idea into something workable and ideally free to all someday.

J.F.R. (POSTING FROM t3h Int3rNeTt5z5zzZ!1!!!!?!

HISTON UPDATE

'Our first dispatch from the footballing crucible that is semi-rural East Anglia, and it's a right corker, our chosen minnows Histon facing neighbours Cambridge United in a home dust-up. The Stutes (no, really) were evidently fired up by the occasion and had much the better of the first half, creating chance after chance whist the plaintive exhortations of the visiting supporters were gently carried off like so much dust in the wind. Indeed it was nearly half time before Cambridge mustered a shot on target, their England C international Chris Holroyd shimmying through an inert defence like a mating weaver bird before fluffing his shot and falling to the turf like an aged twat.Half-time oranges having being consumed and in some cases carelessly dribbled down shirts, the game resumed at a frantic pace. Both Histon and Cambridge had occasion to rue finishing that would have disgraced a team of jittery recovering alcoholics, although with goalkeepers Naisbitt (for the H's) and Potter (for the C.U.) both on fine form it was soon apparent that finding a way past them would be at least as hard as playing 'Alex Chiton' by the Replacements on Guitar Hero. Imagine my surprise then when the aforementioned Holroyd rose to nod in a deflected Pitt free kick on the 90 minute mark. The away following reacted with an outpouring of joy normally reserved in these parts for the callous murder of a teenaged burglar by a cranky racist farmer as he begs for his life, but plucky Histon showed the resilience and guile needed to turn the 4 minutes of injury time into an absolute cauldron. They got their reward in the 94th minute when a corner was swung into the box and BAM! -a Langston header blocked on the line, but the plucky stopper reacted quickest to prod home a richly deserved equaliser.
Fucking sweet as a nut mate. Everybody now: 'Children by the million, sing for Alex Chilton'....

Fact: Histon's ground is called Glassworld.

What you lucky, little puppies can look forward to...

Hall of Fames: Phil Babb and Mr. Wilson.
FC Riga results, player profiles and match reports from the total footballing pioneers of Five-a-side football in the Thursday Goals Soccer Centre La Liga Division C.
Histon Update! - Semi-fictional correspondence from the Blue Square Premier Cambridgeshire side.
Adam Rudge's Tips From Above - The God of sports betting bestows upon us, his underlings, his chunks of holy gambling gold.
'Shut The Fuck Up About Torres And Gerrard' - A look at what new douche bag has decided to throw their hat into the 'Liverpool are relying too heavily on their only two good players' shaped ring.
Nestlé Oats 'n' More's 'Magic Legend Of The Week' - Who is the hero of the time this week?Kellogs Crunchy Nut Clusters' 'Twat Of The Land (of the week)' - Who has generally been a bit of a twat in the world of football over the past seven days?
The Serious John Essays - This is the section where our two resident soccer banter kings put on their serious journalistic hats.
'The Italians Are Hard To Break Down' - A look at the football stereotypes thrust upon certain nationalities throughout the ages.
'Why I bloody love...' - Five reasons we love a particular 'thing', be it a team, a player, a manager, the sights, the sounds, the corner flag's, the grounds.
'Why I flippin' well hate...' - Five reason's we fudging hate that blinkin' whatever it is.
This week in football (insert arbitary number of years) ago - An irreverent look at a not-so notable event that ocurred in football this time many moons ago.
The week's football round-up with the one line robot 'Steve' - Steve, the ever present football pundit casts a laser-based diode over the week's footballing hot topics.

Oh, it seems we have an Introduction in our midst

A lot has changed in football hasn't it really? I mean, do you remember when brylcreemed and overworked lads from t'mines used to jink, feint and stroll around places called 'Black Grove Lane' and 'The Courdrouy Den'. Chances are you won't remember these sepia-coloured football hi-jinks since I don't and I'm twenty years old, which, I think we can all agree is old enough to know anything worth knowing about this splendid game of ours...
OF COURSE I'M BLOODY JESTING WITH YOU!
I am no expert on football and nor do I claim to be (apart from that bit before, but that was a joke so can't do me for it mate) but me and my ol' pal John Tipper do genuinely give a toss about football. Not just the Premiership or the Champions League but we believe there is an insane amount of interesting and important 'saaawker' action to have a nice little look at in the lower leagues and leaguesfrom around the world. If you're still reading, or if you have just power-scanned to the bit where you could see I was coming to the crux of my introduction, you may still require a degree of encouragement to continue your readership.Why would you read our poorly structured, random outbursts about a sport that is so reguarly and well-written about already? Why not go and read a blog or article written by Ian Wright (erm, bad example) or Jamie Redknapp (ahem...) They played the beautiful game at the highest level. Well, that's exactly why you should sink your teeth into our delicious hunk of football blogging 'and that'. Professional football players are hardly qualified to even chat about football. They missed all the important bits because they were bloody well running around all the time, wooing bodacious blonde babes (COWABUNGA) and they've got too used to talking in clichés (I mean, obviously) so come on in and have a little sit down, we'll get you a cup of tea and a biscuit or if a match is on, we do provide Bovril and a broad selection of pies, all served with a great, whopping side-order of us talking about football. Have a bit of that then.
SHAM 69 RULEEe3Z!!1!