Inspired by the bored antics of Chris Mann and Tom Goulding on their Eurotrip:
http://www.thefootballramble.com/index.php/blog/entry/sketches-of-spain
I've decided to dabble with a bit of former, obscure West Bromwich Albion players from my time frequenting The Hawthorns.
First up we have:
Tony Butler
What a goldfish-eyed central-defensive monolith this man was. I don't want to belittle the man as he has reached a level of the game I could but hope to reach, but he was such an average second/third tier player his name should become a byword for 'does a job'. Currently playing, aged 38, for Alfreton Town, he began his career with Gillingham before notching up a century of games with Blackpool, darting across to Port Vale and that's when Gary Megson came calling. He was one of four deadline day signings in the year 2000, yep, we rushed to sign this guy. What more did you suspect from the be-gingered maestro, Meggo? There's not much I can say other than I remember his name being called out in the first eleven (he played seventy games for us) but I never actually remember seeing him play. I know, boring as shit, but there is one player I bet no one who is reading this now, bar the odd Albion supporter, who even knew this fellow existed. That's it, load up your brains with this knowledge shake. I'm giving it to you for free.
I realised yesterday that on FIFA, Pro Evo and Football Manager I have signed both Andre-Pierre Gignac and Marko Marin for my teams.
Gignac is the epitomy of a classic Number 9:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oOdTg-6AixI&feature=related
While Marin is a rodent-like winger come playmaker of the highest quality:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hu-mal3vCPg
I bloody love this pair.
Alice Rosie Wilson (Girlfriend. Mexican Raven. All round quote machine.)
Harry Redknapp was on ITV during a post-match interview, talking about his side's spirit and professional attitude in keeping out the hyper-talented AC Milan forward line. My girlfriend points at the screen, the same way a baby does when it sees a home video of themselves playing in the dirt and utters these words: "Who is that fat, swollen article? His face looks like a floppy ballbag." I don't need to say anything else. Case closed. 
I have spent the last hour and a half with a ruler, a biro and six exercise books, drawing lines and jotting down headings. No, it's not the year 2001. There is no need to fear. That school days world of unintended erections and six wanks-a-day are not making a return. I have merely been indulging in one of my favourite past-times. Record keeping. If you are still with me and haven't closed the tab in sheer disgust, first of all, thank you and secondly, please allow me to explain. I am rarely interested in stats in football. Bar the posession statistic, I nurse semis over Barcelona's plus sixty posession percentage on a regular basis. Unless it's a particuarly intriguing statistic I find them rather useless in a game that's played by human beings with all their faults, creativity and notable ability to do the unexpected, sublime and romantic. However what I do love to do, and have always loved to is record scores, goalscorers, league tables and transfers of players. Do you remember LMA Manager?
Fucking superb game. I used to be all over it like a wet flannel. I would dream of walking home from school, grabbing a Drifter and a Yazoo (Strawberry) and resuming my season with Bradford City FC. I managed them for seven seasons, leading them to two cup finals and Premier League mid-table stability. However, I wouldn't just play the game. I would have an A4 pad next to me and I would carefully note down the scores and who scored the goals. I would jot down the entire league table for the week and when I made a transfer, in or out, I would jot that down in the 'TRANSFERS' section. Please, for the love of God, don't ask me why I get such a gentle thrill from this process but I do. Starting next season I am going to catalogue the results in full, league tables weekly and top goalscorers/assist-makers etc from the top six leagues across Europe and no one's going to stop me. Maybe it's the feel of the paper, all crinkly once I've written a full page out. Maybe it's the actual process of further committing the scores to memory, making the moment when these games are still fresh and important last longer, or maybe I'm just one giant geek who has seen too much in my twenty two years on earth and this maniacal, pointless recording is my subconscious's way of coping. Either way, I've never told anyone about this queer fetish of mine but now you all know. Feel free to recoil in horror next time you see me. I'll be the one ringing a bell, shuffling about in rags.
Double loves, yours infitatum, @Johnny_Rudge
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