Thursday, February 08, 2007

Fantasy Football

The goal of the night started with Gary Ferdinand's perfectly weighted pass out to the right to find the feet of Wayne Gerrard. The Shrek-like Merseyside tyke, whose thoughtful autobiography, It May Be That We Shall Touch the Happy Isles, was the publishing sensation of the autumn, twisted and turned his way past half the Spanish mid-field before flipping the ball to Peter Wright-Phillips whose superb first touch cross found Phil Crouch's head. The lanky Liverpool forward dropped the ball at the feet of Jonathan Carrick. He chipped it effortlessly over the diving body of the bewildered and despairing Spanish keeper, who, sobbing, crossed himself and cursed the day he was not born in England. Said England boss Steve Goran Eriksson after the game, 'We mustn't get too excited. A 7-0 defeat of Spain is the least that we can expect from such a pampered, well paid and loyally supported team. My job now is to ensure that we hold on to the World Cup for another twelve years.' Full match report here.


  1. Great game, wasn't it?

    I hope Joey Barton writes a book about it.

  2. A splendid contest, Brit. I did, I admit, watch a little, but then I lost the will to live.

  3. I kept flicking over to Dragon's Den. Only a perverse sense of patriotic 'duty' had me flicking back.

    There's something about the way this particular set of English footballers fails that is much more depressing than the failures of all the other sets of English footballers of my lifetime.

    Or rather, it is depressing in a profoundly different way. It is a different quality of depression.

  4. What most disturbed me, Brit, was a short of the crowd. The commentator said something like, "And there, in the middle of your picture, is the great Sir Tom Finney." In the middle of the picture was a large lady in a red anorak.

  5. Ah, so you hadn't seen Tom (or 'Tina') Finney post-op before, then?

    Either that or it was just Deborah Meaden