This is the first in a brand new series called “Dear Diary, a week in the life of…” which will take a satirical swipe at the escapades of a football figure in the news. Wes Brown opens up this new feature following his move from Sunderland and speaks of his desire to leave behind John O’Shea who had other ideas…
Dear Diary, I expected this week’s entry to be a lot more positive. Finally, after years of having to put up with John O’Shea, I managed to leave him and join Sunderland.
Next day, I switch on Sky Sports News and who do I find parading round in a Sunderland strip? Sheasy. He’s grinning like a moron. I barely lasted a day without him.
I’d told Sheasy I’d been picked to go to the World Cup and being Irish he had no idea it wasn’t on this summer. Danny Welbeck told me all about Sunderland, said it was far enough away so Sheasy wouldn’t follow me. I thanked Danny for his Catch Me If You Can DVD as I left United.
Sunderland seemed an obvious choice. I like Steve Bruce and he’s impressed with how many England caps I’ve got. If he kicks off I know I can keep him quiet by telling him I’ll give him one for free. Can’t believe that tactic only worked for Darren Fletcher and Andy Goram at Old Trafford.
I’ve wanted to leave ever since Paul Scholes announced his retirement. It’s no fun being ginger at the best of times but once I knew I was going to be the only one left, things changed. Had a bit of a chat with Wayne Rooney about how we were easy targets for abuse on the hair front now. He went for a hair transplant; I decided I’d just go to Sunderland. At least I’ve got Jack Colback here to keep me company. Told him I’d batter him if he dyes his locks, think the message got through.
I met some of the boys in the canteen on my first day. Lee Cattermole crushed a Capri Sun with his hand and told me he’s going to break my nose. Anton Ferdinand assured me it’s a sign of acceptance and told me I should see what he says to those he doesn’t like. I felt uneasy but laughed it off.
Next day Sheasy signed and the atmosphere changed. I heard some murmuring as I went into the canteen; it’s Kieran Richardson and Phil Bardsley blaming me for bringing him here. Am guessing the grapes that hit me came from them. Am guessing the flying chair which just missed my head came from Cattermole.
Onto training and Sheasy stuck to me like glue. It’s like when your mum tells you to walk to school with the nerdy kid because she’s friends with their parents. Meanwhile he tried to recruit people for the Ireland squad. Asking Steed Malbranque if his parents are from Cork is one thing but mentoring Asamoah Gyan on a river dance is a bit far. Cattermole told Sheasy he’s going to break his nose. I’m not sure it’s a term of endearment this time.
After training Sheasy told me Darron Gibson wants to follow him here. He said it’s really annoying when someone just follows you round everywhere. He has no idea.
Debating whether to offer Cattermole a few of my England caps to ‘sort’ Sheasy out. If Gibson gets here too it’s going to be unbearable.
You can follow me on Twitter @liamblackburn.
“It’s football, it’s not brain surgery. Have some fun.”
One of the proudest things about being a British sports fan is our unparalleled support no matter where in the world we are playing.
You can guarantee that Brits will travel to a sporting event en masse. We follow Ricky Hatton in Las Vegas, the European team in America for the Ryder Cup and the British Lions in the Southern Hemisphere. Whatever the weather, whatever the likely outcome, we’re there in droves. The most memorable of all was just a few months ago when the England cricket team recorded a historic Ashes win in Australia. Had it not been for the late night/early morning start and the glorious sunshine, you could have mistaken it for Lords because English fans had invaded. Patriotism has never been a characteristic I possess in any great abundance but there’s always an enormous sense of pride when I see such a large presence of British support.
So to see Wembley, the home of English football, infused with the culture of West Africa tonight was both surprising and awe-inspiring. The sheer number of Ghanaian supporters inside the stadium meant this could easily have been a home fixture for the Black Stars.
The concerns that the withdrawal of several of England’s more senior players would make this friendly even more redundant proved to be unfounded. As soon as I heard and saw the Ghanaian crowd, it was clear that this game would adopt an impetus.
It finished as an entertaining 1-1 draw and the game was played at a frenetic pace in an end-to-end environment. The passion and soul radiated down from the stands because Ghana played with the same intensity that made them so likeable in South Africa. Yes, there were times when that enthusiasm boiled over in the form of some rather choice tackles. But with a multitude of England players deeming this game expendable, it was encouraging to watch the Ghanaians play with real heart.
I have an apathetic attitude when it comes to international football, particularly mid-season friendlies. But I couldn’t help but be enthralled by this Ghana team. One player who captivated it all it was Asamoah Gyan. I’ve never seen a player treat an international friendly with such fervour. His goal at the end and the ensuing celebrations summed it all up. It could be a meaningless friendly in England or a World Cup quarter-final in South Africa; Ghana will always play with energy, passion and most of all, with a smile on their faces.
In the aftermath, the ITV cameras were greeted by a beaming Fabio Capello. The hard-nosed exterior was cast-aside as he joyfully waxed lyrical about the performance he had just witnessed. He may carry the demeanour of a deadly serious, no-fun type manager but we were reminded here that like us, he too can be an excitable fan.
We scrutinise over the game and spend countless hours debating its various nuances so it’s refreshing to reflect by just enjoying the spectacle. For once after an England game, Twitter wasn’t awash with comments on team selection and tactics. Instead we were united under an umbrella of appreciation for the game we’d just witnessed. So for that, thank you Ghana.
You can follow me on Twitter @liamblackburn
“A New Years resolution goes in one year and out the other”
Many New Year’s resolutions may already be broken but it’s a bit different when it comes to Premier League footballers. They don’t need to hit the gym to bulk up or (Benni McCarthy aside) get on a diet. So what should some of the Premier League’s men be looking to learn in 2011?
Rory Delap – Learn…a new trick
As all the girls will tell you Rory, long throws are so 2010.
Nobody is talking about “The Delapinator” anymore because his long throws have lost a lot of their potency. For everyone has wised up to Stoke’s fabled gadget and without it, Delap has faded from the spotlight. `
When a dog rolls over for the first time, it’s impressive but he needs an array of trickery to stay ahead of the pack. Does Delap have a fetch? Can he pull out a bark if the long throw is bombing? I have my doubts.
It doesn’t need to be anything extravagant like a step over or a dummy. This is stereotypically English central midfielder Rory Delap we are talking about. So I suggest he works on a way to develop his long throw. Perhaps doing it backwards or blindfolded? Just a thought Rory, just a thought.
Owen Cole – Learn…where the nearest JJB is and find some tracksuit bottoms!
I like Owen Coyle and lately it appears so does the majority of the country. I just have one major quam with the Bolton boss. His insistence on continuing to wear shorts even in sub zero conditions.
Everyone’s complaining about snoods and gloves but Coyle’s short shorts are even more worrying. Allow me to elaborate. Coyle may be a “tracksuit” manager and that’s fine. If he wants to keep his Sunday best for well, Sundays, so be it.
But what happens when a bigger job opportunity comes alone? Let’s say for arguments sake, at Chelsea.
It’s a Champions League night at The Bridge and José or Pep roll up in their suave, sophisticated suits which perfectly reflect their marvellous tactics.
Then out comes Coyle dressed like an overly enthusiastic substitute to greet them with a handshake. It just doesn’t work. Bigger things may await Mr Coyle in 2011 so let’s hope he dresses accordingly.
Bolo Zenden – Learn…how to dance
The day Asamoah Gyan rocked up in Wearside a warning should have been sounded out to all in the near vicinity. Prepare to party like it’s 1999.
The burning question was who would be the first to join Gyan on the dance floor, Anton Ferdinand? Danny Welbeck? Jordan Henderson? Yet it was 34-year-old Bolo Zenden who joined the Ghanaian in celebration when he scored against Chelsea.
The Dutchman fell into that awkward trap dads do when trying to act “cool” in front of their kids’ friends. Gyan’s moves looked all the more slick when accompanied by his fellow Ghanaians but Zenden’s “booty wiggle” left a lot to be desired.
Still when it comes to Zenden, the will is certainly there and where there’s a will, there’s a way.
With the wide variety of reality based dance shows on television at the moment, Bolo has no excuse. If Vince Cable can master the Foxtrot I see no reason why Zenden can’t bust out the sprinkler or a dice roll for all those at the Stadium of Light. Stay strong Asamoah, we’ll get you some backing dancers yet.
Gary Neville – Learn…how to say “retire”
It’s not as if Father Time has just called for Neville. He’s been waiting outside the door with lager, some chicken and a fishing rod for quite a while.
Last year didn’t end well for the Manchester United right back. He was taken off at half-time after being abused by Matthew Etherington against Stoke and then should have been sent off after he felled Graham Dorrans at West Brom.
A magnificent long-term servant for both club and country, it is sad to see Neville withering away like he has been. The passion is undoubtedly still there in one of the most ardent footballers the league has ever seen but the legs clearly don’t correspond with the brain anymore.
Sir Alex Ferguson is too proud and has too much respect to sit Neville in that rocking chair so it has to be down to the man himself to call it a day.
If I was Phil, Tracey or Neville I think I’d have worked hard to drop a few hints in my Christmas presents. I imagine him now owning a pipe, slippers and a commemorative engraved watch with “thank you for your services”.