Europa League steps out from the shadows

Is it right and proper that Manchester United and Manchester City are obliged to play football matches in the most obscure, recession-battered, dreary boondocks of Europe?

But enough of their home fixtures in the Premier League.  The Europa League draw last Friday produced some glamorous fixtures in the last 32 of the tournament.  Manchester United face Ajax in a clash-of-the-titans tie destined to have Channel 5 executives drooling.

City, meanwhile, will play the holders Porto in another high-profile tie.  Roberto Mancini’s side are likely to take the tournament more seriously than their neighbours; they are still at the stage where they need to win as many trophies as they can to legitimize their status as one of the continent’s major clubs.  Besides, City have greater squad depth than just about any club in the world, so can afford to rotate their side.

It all adds up to an more-than-usually appetizing round of fixtures.  Stoke City v Valencia looks good, too.  As long as you ignore Stoke.

The competition has its detractors and it is not hard to see why.  With the Champions League ever increasing in profile and importance, the other UEFA club competition appears increasingly tacked-on.  Tottenham Hotspur could hardly disguise their desire to be knocked out – though Harry Redknapp’s joyless dismissal of perhaps the club’s best chance of a trophy this season is hardly worthy of praise – and fielded scratch sides in most matches.

The tournament feels bloated, with too many teams, too many qualifying rounds – Fulham’s campaign began in late June, for heaven’s sake – and little glamour.  Thursday night football also has an inbuilt smell of artifice about it.

Perhaps the best thing to do would be for UEFA to bring back the much missed Cup Winners’ Cup.  The confederation would have an extra Final, surely a better occasion than the Super Cup, and an extra high-profile night for television viewers around the globe.

The problem is the wretched group stage.  Group stages work in international tournaments because teams only play each other once; every match assumes a massive importance.  Play on a home-and-away basis, however, and clubs begin to feel they can coast.  There have been few gripping nights for the English clubs in the Champions League group stages in recent seasons, until their poor performances this time around left Chelsea, Manchester United and Manchester City all needing a result on Matchday 6.

The group stages, though, guarantee teams a minimum of six matchdays, meaning more revenue from both attendances and television rights.  Another problem for UEFA is the end of communism; not in the political sense, but in the fact that what used to be the USSR is now myriad nations, each with their own domestic league and collection of qualifying teams.  The same applies to post-break-up Yugoslavia.

So we must continue to rely on the knock-out stages for real drama.  Either that or hope that the English sides continue to be mediocre in Europe.  This season’s performances have often been dismal, with only Arsenal and Stoke City sealing progress with a game to spare and only Chelsea winning through in the final round of group games.  In football as in real life, the British are having trouble in Europe.

So let’s enjoy the knock-out stages for what they are; genuine, competitive football.  Matches aren’t important simply because they are in a particularly high-profile tournament; they are important when they matter.

Euro 2012 a big draw in more ways than one

Perhaps all draws should be like this.  Maybe all we need to liven up the NCEL League Cup draw is Zinedine Zidane and Marco van Basten drawing out balls between monumentally pointless interludes pertaining to local culture.  “Lincoln Moorlands Railway… will play… Glasshoughton Welfare.  Now, here’s the Crigglestone Colliery Band playing ‘Our Lass Is A Yorkshire Lass’.”

Draws are rather like opening ceremonies; pompous, overblown and, in more ways than one, drawn out.  Perhaps I’ve become cynical but once you’ve seen one African woman in a massive headdress surrounded by schoolchildren re-enacting the dawn of time, you’ve seen them all.

Once the interminable faffery had subsided, we were treated to something dimly resembling the Euro 2012 draw.  Time taken in total: almost an hour.  Rudimentary experiments in your humble author’s study involving an ice-cream tub and some scissors have proven beyond doubt that the whole thing can be done in just under four minutes.

After a fashion, the draw threw up some mouth-watering group stage clashes; though, in reality, it was always going to.  The thing about the Euros is that good sides are crammed together more densely than in a World Cup and the major footballing nations are not all in the same pot of seeds.

So we have Germany v Portugal, Spain v Italy, France v England and Holland v Germany, all in the first six days of the championship.  By comparison, the highlight of the opening six days of the World Cup in 2010 was probably Uruguay v France.

The Euros have, for some time, been considered the highest quality tournament in football, and quite possibly all sport.  The last three tournaments have been of a consistently high quality, whereas the last three World Cups have been relatively disappointing (though not without drama).

The tournament throws up more of the international game’s major rivalries, which gives the early stages of the competition an intensity that the World Cup group stages sometimes lack.  Goalscoring rates, too, have been consistently higher in the Euros than the World Cups of the twenty-first century.

The Euro 2012 draw was helped by the fact that two lesser sides, co-hosts Poland and Ukraine, were automatically seeded, pushing Germany and Italy down into Pot 2.  Group A will be a curiosity, with arguably the worst team from each of the four seeding pots drawn together.  Yet what treats lie elsewhere.

For their part, England are in a relatively manageable Group D, in which they will face France, Sweden and finally Ukraine.  Their cause was helped this week by UEFA’s sensible decision to finally apply the laws of precedent to Wayne Rooney’s absurdly harsh three-match ban, with the Manchester United forward now able to play in the last group game against the co-hosts in Donetsk.

Yet every team at the Euros will be competitive.  In the main, the right fourteen teams came through the qualifying competition, with Turkey and Serbia the biggest absentees.  This is not bad news for England, who have no games against somebody like Algeria, and are in no danger of underestimating the task ahead of them.  England simply weren’t up for the game in Cape Town; there is little danger of complacency next summer.

For goodness' sake England fans, cheer up

Here are a couple of largely uncontroversial statements connected with tonight’s international at Wembley.  1) Spain are the favourites to beat England; 2) England are not serious contenders to win Euro 2012.

On the basis that half-decent journalism is about stating something other than the bleedin’ obvious, here are a couple of others.  1) Spain would be the favourites whoever they were playing, except possibly Germany; 2) Nobody are serious contenders to win Euro 2012, except Spain and Germany.

This is a particularly odd time for international football.  It is under attack from many directions, one of which comprises the notion that the international game is of significantly less quality than top level European club football.

And yet.  The last World Cup had the best knockout stage – surely the best measure for the quality of a tournament – of any since 1998.  There is an argument – a contrary one, perhaps, but not indefensible – that this is a golden era of international football.  It is quite possible that Spain and Germany are the two best sides in international football history.

Certainly, they are among the most consistent.  It is quite possible that, come the end of next year’s European Championship, Spain and Germany will have both gone three straight major tournaments (excluding Spain at the 2009 FIFA Confederations Cup) having been knocked out only by each other.  Along with hosts Brazil, they will be the favourites to win the 2014 World Cup.

Yet the build up to the Spain match has consisted of little more than hand-wriging comparisons between the technique of the Spanish squad players and their English counterparts.  Granted, if you compare David Silva and Juan Mata with James Milner and Gareth Barry , or Fernando Torres and Fernando Llorente with Danny Welbeck and Gabriel Agbonlahor, you will probably not conclude that England are European Champions elect.  But the same game can be played with France, Italy, Portugal; indeed, any of the major nations in Europe.

Only the Dutch are realistic challengers to the Germany-Spain axis.  They have a recent record almost as consistent as the ‘big two’ and, unlike Spain, also tend to do well in friendlies.  So where does that leave the rest?  Is Euro 2012 a waste of time for England, Italy and France; never mind Denmark, Sweden and Greece?  Of course not.

International tournaments do something peculiar to the passage of time; unfancied teams can suddenly become brilliant (Italy 1982, Romania 1994, Brazil 2002) while apparently strong sides can collapse (France 2002, Italy 2010).  Just as new generations can come of age, so can experienced quality quickly become past it.

English football culture prides itself on the dedication of its fans.  Yet the ‘thick and thin’ principle now appears to apply solely to club fans, who loyally follow their side despite consecutive relegations.  Yet why does this not apply to the international side?  England go through a spell of poor results and suddenly are treated as a burden, a distraction which must be endured.  England are, quite properly, ranked as one of the top eight sides in the world.  I do not find the side a national embarrassment and nor should anybody else.

Besides, if Greece can win the European Championship…

Time for the truth about Hillsborough

by Mike Martin   @thefootietweet

The really scary thing about the Hillsborough tragedy is that it could have been far, far worse.  The perfect storm of policing error, a dilapidated ground, poor signage and ill-advised wire fencing at the front of the Leppings Lane end could have claimed far more than 96 lives.

Just think, for instance, if Peter Beardsley’s shot early in the FA Cup semi final between Liverpool and Nottingham Forest on 15th April 1989 had been six inches lower.  Quite what a goal, rather than a shot striking the crossbar, would have led to is a matter best left in the darkest recesses of the imagination.

Let us not pretend that anything Parliament might do in the coming weeks – any inquiry, revelation, apology or disclosure of cabinet minutes – can remotely heal the pain felt by the families and friends of those who died, nor of the thousands who were injured and traumatized but able to walk away from the stadium.

What it will do is finally end the 22 years of deceit and cover-up that has served to slander the victims.  It will vindicate those who have campaigned tirelessly and with great dignity to shed light on what really happened that afternoon.

So many questions remained unanswered.  Why, for example, was Hillsborough chosen to host the match in the first place?  Liverpool had complained following crushing in the Leppings Lane end in the previous year’s semi final between the same two teams, while in 1981 38 fans had been injured in a crush during the Spurs-Wolves semi final.  There was

Why was it decided that the Nottingham Forest fans would occupy the larger Spion Kop End, with a capacity of 21,000, despite Liverpool having the larger support?

Why was Chief Superintendent David Duckenfield made officer in charge of a match for the first time in an FA Cup semi final between two well-supported teams, as opposed to a quiet league match at Brammall Lane?

Why did police allow only one of the forty-four ambulances which arrived at the stadium to enter the ground?

Why did Duckenfield tell the then chief executive of the FA, Graham Kelly, that the fateful Gate C had been forced open by Liverpool supporters, when he had in fact ordered it to be opened?

Why did Margareth Thatcher’s press secretary, Bernard Ingham, say that the tragedy would not have occurred “if a mob, clearly tanked up, had not tried to force their way in?”

Why did the coroner, Dr Stefan Popper, limit the main inquest to events up until 3:15 pm – a mere nine minutes after referee Ray Lewis halted the match – thereby rendering himself unable to consider the effect of the inadequate police response?

This led to a public narrative that was wholly inaccurate, defamatory and deflective.  It was maintained when the Sheffield coroner took blood alcohol measurements from every single corpse, including the youngest fatality, Jon-Paul Gilhooley, cousin of Steven Gerrard.  Jon-Paul was ten years old.

The Sun, the best-selling tabloid rag, ran a disgraceful headline, ‘The Truth’, which was anything but.  It accused Liverpool fans of picking the pockets of the dead, urinating on police officers and assaulting a constable giving artificial respiration.  All were lies, for which the execrable then-editor Kelvin Mackenzie has never properly apologized.  You do well to find a Liverpool newsagent, even 22 years on, which will stock The Sun.

Senior policemen doctored evidence to the inquiry conducted by Lord Justice Taylor in order to cast the police in a better light.  The police’s story took root because, in 1989, people were too ready to believe that this was just another instance of hooliganism.

That is why the truth must come out, warts and all.  It will achieve, after a fashion, a sort of justice for those who lived, as well as those who d

England put to shame by the Welsh

by Mike Martin   @thefootietweet

It has been a peculiar Rugby World Cup for followers of England.  With every victory, the temptation to worry became ever more irresistible; the sole defeat, by seven points to a rejuvenated France, gave rise merely to philosophical acceptance.

England have not been remotely good enough to win the tournament – though that did not prevent them reaching the Final four years ago – so there is no great sadness.  Indeed, the though occurs that the tournament is much the better for the absence of a side who have so regularly betrayed their status as professional athletes.

To triumph at any tournament, certain factors are essential.  Preparation, performance and discipline.  The technical aspects of England's tournament are for more knowledgable commentators than your humble author to discuss but there can be no question that indiscipline, on and off the pitch, has punctuated England's disappointingly short sojourn in New Zealand.

Gone forever is the notion that rugby is a somewhat nobler form of football than the 'other codes', at which the fifteen-man game still tends to look down a lofty and often lopsided nose.  The tour has reeked of unprofessionalism.  The appalling penalty count, lack of leadership and dismal decision making have been matched by misadventures between matches reflected the delinquency between fixtures.

Mike Tindall, an decidedly ordinary centre – England excels in their production – who probably never merited his place in the squad even when the paucity of alternatives is taken into account, attracted tabloid headlines for his short excursion between the breasts of a mystery woman, who turned out not be a mystery woman after all once the effects of excessive drinking had worn off to the extent that the England vice captain – vice captain! – could remember where he'd been and who with that night.

Then there was the, frankly, disgusting behaviour of three players who deemed it the acme of wit to corner a young female hotel worker and invite her to carry out an act normally only on offer at a quite different kind of hostelry, to her considerable distress.

Both misdeeds were exacerbated by the bewildering disinclination of anybody among the entourage to take them remotely seriously.  The media storm was described my Mark Cueto as a 'mountain made out of a molehill', when in fact it was a rare example of tabloid outrage being largely justified.  Dare we even contemplate what would happen if three England footballers had behaved in such a way at a FIFA World Cup?  Players have been sent home for considerably more trivial transgressions.

Indiscipline bred indiscipline.  Had Martín Rodríguez's kicking radar been in anything dimly resembling working order, or if first choice kicker Felipe Contepomi hadn't been injured, Argentina would have been out of sight before Ben Youngs's 67th minute try.  Courtney Lawes and Delon Armitage both picked up bans while Dan Cole and Dylan Hartley were both sin-binned, both the result of England's constant, unrelenting infringing at the breakdown.  Only Tonga amassed more yellow cards.

To put it bluntly, England's pack were irredeemably dismal throughout.  Argentina, Scotland and France rucked them to death; the set pieces were poor and the forwards scored just one try in five matches between them.  Meanwhile, balls were constantly dropped, poor passes thrown to bewildered recipients and promising attacking positions spurned.  Even Jonny Wilkinson got the rugby equivalent of the yips.

Ridiculously ambitious penalty kicks were attempted despite the fly half's poor form when kicking for position would have better consolidated possession and territory and, hoping against hope, brought the odd try against England's less obliging opponents.  Ludicrous drop goal attempts, such as the one from Toby Flood against France which dribbled in the vague direction of the posts, also saw possession handed to the opposition.

Where was the leadership?  Not from the coach, Martin Johnson, who faffed around without ever seeming to make a decision about England's starting fly-half, wing or inside centre.  Where was even the thinnest evidence of proper preparation or the setting of boundaries regarding off-field conduct?

What a waste.  Some players shone: Manu Tuilagi was brilliant, doing the work of two centres at once; Mark Cueto remembered what a try is and nobody in the tournament has crossed more times than the lethal Chris Ashton at the time of writing.

Still, at least there's Wales.  Whatever the All Blacks fans might say, the Welsh have been, bar none, the best team in the tournament.  Their running play has been beautiful, they are scoring tries at will and they should, justly, have beaten South Africa.  Their forwards have been menacing, tight and have conducted themselves largely within the rules of engagement, vague as they often are.

Away from the matches, the squad have voluntarily taken to teetotalism, at the behest of the younger players.  Wales have been a great advert for northern hemisphere rugby, as were Ireland, whom they conquered in the Wellington quarter final.  Those two facts may just be connected.  Wales have come to play in a Rugby World Cup, England seemed to come on a jolly old boys' trip out.  It is the Welsh who will go home with something rather more substantial than a headache.

City should have sacked Tévez

It takes some effort but Carlos Tévez has managed to do more for public feeling towards Manchester City than Garry Cook ever did.  I never thought I’d write this but I hope Manchester City sue the whinging bag of hubris for a jolly lot of money.

City have suspended Tévez for two weeks – wretchedly, on full pay – but even this is a cop out.  By refusing to go on the pitch in Munich, Tévez did significant damage not just to City’s immediate prospects in a UEFA Champions League match but threw the club into a state of disharmony.

At best, he is guilty of breach of contract.  At worst – and this sounds much more like it – his actions, or inactions if you prefer, amount to misconduct.  The suspension was a cop out; City should have fired him on the spot, preferably with an invitation to catch his own flight back to England.

Tévez is a fine player but has done little for the game in England since his bewildering transfer from Corinthians to West Ham Utd in August 2006 along with Javier Mascherano.  That transfer turned out to be irregular, to an extent that should have given the Premier League cause to summarily relegate West Ham and reprieve Sheffield Utd who, as the seventeenth best law-abiding club in the top flight that season, had earned their right to remain in the division.

His relationship with his agent Kia Joorabchian has cast a shadow over his time in England.  Third-party ownership is a blight on football which threatens the competitive integrity of the game and the FA and SFA have quite properly banned it, as must FIFA.  The only way to deal with people like Joorabchian is with the application of a jackboot, preferably from a considerable height.

In 2006, Gabriele Marcotti wrote in the Times that in the register of directorships at Companies House, Joorabchian had two names, two nationalities and even two dates of birth.  The suspicion lingers that he can still smell a quick buck, facilitated by yet another big money move for Tévez.

And yet, deliciously, there is a sense that no club in their right mind will go near the player.  He has whined his way out of a career at Eastlands, usurped by the marvellous Sergio Agüero, a superior player and a better professional.  Argentina’s new coach, the former Sheffield Utd and Leeds midfielder Alejandro Sabella, has recently been seen purchasing a bargepole with the express intent to not touch Tévez with it.

Tévez has been in English football for over five years, yet still requires an interpreter to carry out even the most basic interviews; just as he remained as incomprehensible in Portuguese at the end of his time at Corinthians as on the day he joined from Boca Juniors in 2004.  He has always been in the Manchester City squad but never entirely of it.

City are rich enough not to worry about the loss of a transfer fee; after all, who would pay £40m for the player now, unless they took leave of their senses?  Tévez’s continued presence in the squad would be divisive in the club and an insult to the supporters.  Sacking the player for gross misconduct would rid City of a problem player and help the club’s image; few would have any sympathy for the Argentine.

The notion that reconciliation is possible is hard to believe.  Mancini was clearly enraged by Tévez’s behaviour, as he had every right to be.  The fans would never accept Tévez back.  He ought then to be left to find a club prepared to give him a three year contract on silly money.  Qatar, anybody?

Lampard moving into background but spare us the glee

by Mike Martin   @thefootietweet

Frank Lampard is 33 years old.  That is the context in which all discussions of his future rôle in the Chelsea and England teams ought to take place.

There is no shame in a player in his 34th year no longer having the explosive energy and stamina required in being a modern box-to-box midfielder; similarly, nobody possessed of their senses would criticise Ryan Giggs for spending much of his time in central midfield in the final part of his career, rather than marauding up and down the left wing at Old Trafford.

That younger, quicker players are overtaking Lampard in the England side is a cause for celebration.  Renewal is a vital element in any international team’s fortunes and if England are producing top young midfielders – and in Jack Wilshere, Ross Barkley, Tom Cleverley and Josh McEachran, there can be little doubt that they are – that is no bad thing.

Yet there is a sense that many England fans are more excited about an opportunity to mock a player some see as a mediocrity who has bluffed his way through a career carried by superior teammates.  Let us employ some candour: this is piffle.  The notion that Lampard has been ‘carried’ at Chelsea by such luminaries as Mikel, Deco, Tiago, Ramires, Michael Ballack and Yossi Benayoun offends common sense.  The reverse is true.

Much of the controversy surrounding the player has concerned his England career, during which he has earned 88 caps (and counting), scoring 22 goals.  Some have always begrudged his failure to gel with Steven Gerrard, with whom he formed a talented but tactically dysfunctional midfield partnership under Sven Göran Eriksson and Steve McClaren.

Lampard has been an easy target for some years.  He is a lot of things many fans don’t like: rich (which England player isn’t?), a Tory (fair enough) and a Chelsea player.  With Wembley often filled with fans of rival London clubs, he could be forgiven for feeling short of friends on international duty.

Yet Lampard is a consummate professional who has been a key part of one of Europe’s best club sides for a decade.  He was easily the best midfielder at Euro 2004, whatever UEFA might say about Theo Zagorakis, absurdly named Golden Ball winner; he scored the winning goal in the 2009 FA Cup Final and is the eight top scorer and the top scoring midfielder in Premier League history with 140 goals.  So far.

Lampard is not Paul Scholes, who retired from international football at a ridiculously early age peeved at being very properly judged England’s third best central midfielder by Eriksson.  If he did retire, the very same snipers who absurdly call an extraordinary athlete who holds the Premier League record of 164 consecutive appearances ‘Fat Frank’ would accuse him of bottling it, being an unpatriotic waster.  Players do not take – and score – penalties in European Cup semi final second legs during extra time the day after burying their mother because they lack bottle.

At club level, there is the brilliant teenager McEachran to take over, just as Romelu Lukaku and Daniel Sturridge will take the place of Didier Drogba and Nicolas Anelka.  There need be no panic at Lampard’s quiet and dignified transfer from leading man to experienced support player.  But there ought not be joy either.

Cup tie grudge match leaves a bitter taste

by Mike Martin   @thefootietweet

I belong to that group of rather anoraky individuals whose life ambitions include joining ‘The 92 Club’; that is, having attended a football match at all 92 league grounds in England (and, before any Swansea or Cardiff fans start writing letters, Wales.)

I can’t complain about a lack of encouragement.  Just this minute, for reasons not made entirely clear, I’ve received a text message from Oxford Utd, of all clubs, informing me that tickets remain available – as if there were any doubt in the matter – for Saturday’s League Two match with Accrington Stanley.

I am, though, entirely glad that I’ve already done Elland Road.  Given the character of their ludicrous owner-chairman Ken Bates, I doubt I’ll be welcomed if any of them get wind of this article.  Still, if being banned from Leeds Utd A.F.C. is good enough for the Guardian…

Leeds played Manchester Utd in the Football League Cup on Tuesday night; that is to say, they turned up in the correct kit and ran around the pitch for ninety minutes; it did not appear much of a contest.  The most dispiriting thing about the fixture was not the ease of Manchester Utd’s 3-0 victory, nor was it even the distasteful chants inside and outside the ground from fans of both teams.  It was the fact that hearing neither Leeds fans singing in gleeful tones of the Munich air disaster, nor Manchester Utd supporters retort with reference to the murders of two Leeds fans in Istanbul in 2000, were remotely unexpected.

For those with short memories: on 6th February 1958, Manchester Utd’s team plane crashed on its third attempted take-off from a slush-covered runway at the Munich-Reim Airport, causing 23 eventual fatalities, including eight players.  On 5th April 2000, on the eve of a UEFA Cup semi-final first leg away to Galatasaray, two Leeds fans, Kevin Speight and Christopher Loftus, were slain with machetes by hooligans in an unprovoked attack.  Four men were convicted in involvement in the killings but remained free more than a decade after pursuing an interminable appeal, though they are now back in jail.

In other words, both sets of supporters should know better.  Yet the large clubs in the north of England remain beset with a parochial tribalism not unmixed with plain psychopathy.  Here we must permit an inconvenient truth to escape the page: I don’t much care for a lot of football fans.  There must be more to the game that blindly following one club to the exclusion of a more general awareness of the game, or even of the basic values of human decency.

After Tuesday’s match, Twitter, which at times resembles a confederacy of dunces, was polluted with twerps from both sets of supporters arguing that ‘they started it’, as if it made a kernel of difference.  Anybody singing about Hillsborough, Heysel, Munich or Istanbul deserves never to set foot in a football ground again.  Sadly, they are not the only teams will have fans who are an embarrassment to the club.

The game has succeeded in greatly reducing the physical threat to peaceful fans attending matches, even the biggest rivalries.  My visit to Elland Road was for a match against Chelsea in September 2003 and, thanks to efficient policing, felt under no personal threat at any time.  With security better than ever, maybe obscene chants are what we have instead.

Yet large crowds inevitably bring about false bravado.  Here’s a challenge to any member of the Manchester Utd ‘firm’ who joins in the chants about Istanbul or Hillsborough: come to the housing estate where my father grew up in Huyton, Merseyside, and repeat just one line of your Hillsborough ditty in the open street.  I strongly recommend McGoldrick Park, or perhaps the Blue Bell Lane area after nightfall.  Good luck with that one.

Irish hit right notes amid Australian dischord

by Mike Martin   @thefootietweet

To begin at a tangent, I have finally worked out what it is about this World Cup that seems so much classier than in other recent international sporting championships.  It is the national anthems.

Normally, you will recall, anthems have been 'led' by some panjandrum of an operatic soloist.  At Hampden Park, it is usually some bekilted soul such as Ronnie Browne butchering the life out of Flower Of Scotland – which is a bad enough dirge to begin with – and yelling whatever it is the crowd all shout after 'and send him homeward'.  Elsewhere, particularly at Wembley cup finals, it is usually some up-and-coming 'celebrity' opera singer – the sort who's CDs are available in Asda – with a good future behind them who drench the tune in unnecessary frippery and coloratura before pointlessly going up the octave in the last bar, only to miss the final high note by the width of the Thames.

Not for the Rugby World Cup, who have made the tasteful decision to use the New Zealand Choral Federation 'Anthem Choirs', who have thus far been providing classy and subtle renditions of the anthems as the composer wrote them.  Even the antipodean temptation for throwing in the odd new-agey harmonic confection is, by and large, passed by.

Anyhow, the game.  This was the match every World Cup needs, a contest of the most immersive kind and a result which turns the whole tournament inside out.  There is now the strong possibility that the Tri Nations countries will all be in the same half of the draw come the knockout stage.

The discerning sport fan reserves a particular kind of joy for watching Australia lose at any sport they hold even slightly dear and there was plenty to enjoy here.  Much of the match's appeal was in the familiarity of its features; the useless Wallaby front frow, their crass errors in possession and their dismal scrummaging.

Every four years the rugby world asks itself the same question.  Have Australia finally found, among their 22 million mostly sport-mad inhabitants, finally found themselves any prop forwards who look half competent on the international stage.  Usually, the answer is a blunt 'no'.  This time around it is 'yes; there is Benn Robinson'.  Robinson is injured.

This was a match in which everything Australia holds dear about its rugby union team was systematically, almost ritually deconstructed by a resurgent Irish pack.  (Their backs, though they played perfectly well, were not really the point.)  This was not just about their constant infringements at the scrum.  Australia, undermined at source, panicked and became incapable of making good decisions when in possession.

Will Genia ran into a teammate and Australia were penalized for 'shepherding', or blocking an opponent's tackle without the ball.  A late close-range penalty was run when trailing by nine when a goal would have brought them within winning range.  Several phases of play later, fly half Quade Cooper – tonight not a maverick entertainer but a dunderheaded liability – threw a needlessly extravant flick pass straight into Tommy Bowe's hands.  The Irish wing's interception break did not bring a try but it won the match by taking Australia into their own 22 in the last minute.

Ireland, on the other hand, made sensible decisions that worked.  With Jonathan Sexton's goal-kicking inconsistent, Ronan O'Gara was introduced to slot two second half penalties that took Ireland out of reach.  This was not a gutsy, hard fought narrow win against the odds; it was a straightforward rout.  Had Sexton's radar been better calibrated, the Australians would have been truly humiliated.  The Auckland crowd, in which the natives were uniformly supporting the Irish for reasons which scarcely need outlining here, lapped it up.  In the post-match interviews, broadcast over the statium PA system, Ronan O'Gara was cheered like an All Black hero; Australia coach Robbie Deans was hissed like a pantomime villain.

We can now all look forward to the likely quarter final between South Africa and Australia.  The delicious thing is, one of them has to lose.

Give Rugby World Cup minnows an outlet

by Mike Martin   @thefootietweet

It's been, by common consent, an excellent opening week in the Rugby World Cup.  The minor nations have, by and large, done themselves proud.  They have also all lost, with the exception of Canada beating Tonga, which is not, by world rugby standards, a particularly shocking result.

Certainly, the 'gap' is closing but is it realistic to expect it ever to become narrow enough for every game in the tournament to be genuinely competitive?  How, for instance, can Georgia be expected to beat England if they only play that calibre of opposition once every four years?  As it stands, overtaking Romania as Europe's best non-Six Nations championship side seems to be the limit of their realistic ambitions.

The island nations are always good fun, and Samoa could well surprise Wales just as Fiji did in 2007, but they remain largely uninvolved in the year-by-year international fixture lists.  But the Pacific Nations Cup, which sees Samoa, Fiji, Tonga and Japan compete with New Zealand's 'B' side is not of a standard to constitute adequate preparation.

Romania nearly beat Scotland but in the end lost without even gaining a bonus point because the Scots were better conditioned.  They played for the full eighty minutes and Simon Danielli's two late tries came against opponents who were out on their feet.

It is one thing to see myriad Georgians, Canadians and Argentines playing professional club rugby in Europe but that will not help produce slick, cohesive international XVs.  Only regular, high profile, top level international matches will achieve that.  Yet the major nations will not invite Tier 2 nations to play in the Autumn Internationals, the annual series of invitational Test matches, on anything more than an occasional basis as they are not money-spinners.

The solution?  Play the Rugby World Cup every two years.  In football, there are perfectly sound reasons for the World Cup to be held every four years.  The continental confederations have their own championships to organize, as well as their own qualifiers.  There simply isn't time.  But in rugby union, the 'regional' international championships such as the Six Nations and Quad Nations (which will see Argentina join the Tri Nations, not before time) are annual and occupy a different set point in the calendar.

A biennial World Cup would give the IRB a chance to be more adventurous when selecting hosts, alternating between the safe, wealth-generating tournaments in England, France or Australia, and those which seek the expand the game's horizons.  The 2019 World Cup, awarded to Japan, will be the first held outside the game's principal nations.  Rugby needs a World Cup, relatively soon, in America and one in Argentina.  With the World Cup every four years, the waiting list stretches too long.

Promotion into the Six Nations would probably lead to a hokey-kokey between Italy and Georgia, each swapping places every year, unless Scotland go into a tailspin.  And just try getting the Tri Nations unions to allow Samoa or Fiji to take the place of one of them every other year. 

Twice as many World Cups would mean more money for the IRB to invest in developing nations which, combined with more regular top-level experience, will make the Rugby World Cup more democratic.  More youngsters will be playing rugby in the schools of Tbilisi or Lisbon, Tunis or Montevideo.  They will grow into wiser, cannier rugby players, able to see out matches against good opposition.

Experience is not the only factor.  Look at Italy: have they made any serious progress since joining the Six Nations in 2000?  Few seriously expect them to defeat Ireland and the United States could well give them a good battle.  But Italy have given the major nations almost a century's head start.  Their time will come.  But without more regular Test matches for countries like Japan, Georgia or Russia, the Italians and Argentines could be the only sides to make a serious breakthrough in the forseeable future.

Gasperini and Luis Enrique already under fire

by Mike Martin   @thefootietweet

You remember Serie A.  That football championship from the olden days that took place entirely on Saturday mornings on Channel 4, with James Richardson discussing Zdenek Zeman’s latest coaching appointment on a Vicenzan terrace from behind an ice cream sundae the size of a minor rugby league trophy.

Things have changed somewhat since the days of watching Juventus eek out a 1-0 win at Piacenza.  The opening weekend of Serie A – delayed by a fortnight due to a players’ strike – had as much drama as you could wish for.  Juventus, who now finally have a proper stadium, christened their new home with a superb 4-1 thrashing of Parma.   The champions Milan fought back from conceding two early goals to draw 2-2 at home to Lazio, while Napoli excelled in a 3-1 win at Cesena.

But the two clubs who most draw the attention are the two who have made disastrous starts.  Roma, recently re-invented in the Barcelona image by their new coach Luis Enrique, lost 2-1 at home to Cagliari, having already been giant-killed in the Europa League play-off round by humble Slovan Bratislava.

Internazionale, meanwhile, did an impression of a team who have never met each other before.  New coach Gian Piero Gasperini, last seen at Genoa before he was fired in November 2010, has attempted to introduce his pet project, the back three, to a club who seem neither suited nor inclined to do so.  Javier Zanetti, their 93-year-old full-back, was shoehorned in as a third centre back with Jonathan, a Brazilian just signed from Santos, and the excellent Yuto Nagatomo at wing-back.

Most controversially, though, Gasperini left Wesley Sneijder on the bench, despite the Dutch playmaker having recently committed his future to the club despite interest from both Manchester clubs.  A front three of Diego Forlán, Mauro Zárate and Gabrial Milito produced the goods but the rest of the team appeared dysfunctional as a second half masterclass from Fabrizio Miccoli gave Palermo a 4-3 win.

In the face of stinging criticism, Gasperini reverted to a back four for Wednesday’s Champions League fixture at home to Trabzonspor.  Sneijder returned as the pivot in a 4-3-1-2 formation with Joel Obi, Zanetti and Esteban Cambiasso behind him.  At home against a side drafted in at the last minute after the Turkish FA withdrew champions Fenerbahçe after a max-fixing scandal, Inter could not lose.  They lost.

Forlán and Milito, despite scoring three between them in Palermo, were both dropped, with Zárate partnered by Giampaolo Pazzini.  The team looked every bit as unfamiliar as they had under Gasperini’s favoured 3-4-3 formation.  Ondrej Celuskta, the young Czech right-back, grabbed a late winner from a badly defended corner.  With a group of ageing defenders, Gasperini would appear to have much work to do.

He’d better do it jolly quickly, as Inter and Roma meet tonight in Serie A.  It promises to be an engrossing contest; both sides cannot lose.

Group stage promises to be an unusual thrill

by Mike Martin   @thefootietweet


For those of us found this evening at Mill Lane, watching Pickering Town play Bridlington Town in the President’s Cup, the appeal was clearly not quite enough but it is difficult to treat this season’s UEFA Champions League group stage with the usual sense of ennui.

Typically, this stage of the competition will see Manchester Utd and Chelsea qualifying with two matches to spare and Arsenal flirt with elimination having capitulated in a couple of away matches but romp through 7-0 at home to Slavia Prague.  We have had to watch Rangers in the hope of genuine excitement, which is a thoroughly depressing thought.

Yet this season there is a genuine sense of peril for all the English clubs bar one.  Manchester Utd should swat aside Benfica, Basel and Otelul Galati, even though the clubs from Portugal and Switzerland contain genuine young talent.  Basel, particularly, should be a good watch, with youngsters Xherdan Shaqiri, Fabian Frei, Valentin Stocker and Granit Xhaka in a dynamic all-Swiss midfield.

But things will not be so simple for the other Premier League sides.  Even for Chelsea, who seem to have regained their machine-like competence in the Premier League, are not guaranteed graduates of a group containing Valencia, Bayer Leverkusen and Genk.  Leverkusen are in good form, having won 4-1 at Augsburg at the weekend, while Valencia are flying in La Liga, positioned as they are two points ahead of Barcelona.

Arsenal are in an odd group.  Borussia Dortmund, the champions of Germany, played some of the best football in Europe last season and, given the struggles of the North London side, should be favourites to win the group.  Yet they were beaten at home in the Bundesliga on Saturday for the first time in over a year, losing 2-1 to Hertha Berlin, who were in the second division last term.  Marseille are hopeless, having failed to win any of their first five matches in Ligue 1, while Olympiakos have not yet begun their Greek Superleague season.

Group A is the most appetising of them all.  Manchester City must hope their excellent league form continues if they are to successfully negotiate Bayern Munich, Villarreal and Napoli in what you might call a ‘proper’ group.  Napoli began their Serie A season with an impressive 3-1 win at Cesena on Saturday evening in a pulsating match, which bodes well for tonight’s contest.  Bayern are also flying, having crushed Freiburg 7-0.  Eastlands may see some truly classic European encounters in the next three months.

Flat opening game sign of first IRB error

by Mike Martin   @thefootietweet

The 2007 Rugby World Cup began with a bang.  Argentina beat France 17-12 at the Stade de France, providing a result which turned the entire tournament inside out.  Suddenly there were questions.  Would France even get out of the group in their own World Cup?  Could they recover to beat Ireland?  Would Ireland now be the victims of the vact that three into two does not go?

Argentina, for some time, have been the ideal Rugby World Cup opening fixture opponents.  Against Wales in 1999 and Australia in 2003, they were good enough to give the hosts a genuinely competitive contest but not quite good enough to spoil the party.

Unfortunately, the IRB do not 'fix' the World Cup draw and, anyway, Argentina were seeded when the draw for the current championship was made in 2008.  New Zealand, the host nation this time around, were drawn with France, Tonga, Canada and Japan.

The opening game plainly should have been New Zealand v France.  As it was, the game was decided after twenty minutes as Israel Dagg and Richard Kahui ran in tries against a Tonga side so plainly beset by stagefright.  In fact, when Tonga finally started playing in the last quarter, New Zealand looked quite ordinary.  Yet by then the match was decided.

After a spectacular opening ceremony this, alas, felt like an anticlimax.  Indeed, there is an argument for questioning whether the holders, not the hosts, shouldn't be the team with the honour of opening the tournament.  South Africa v Wales in Auckland?  Now that's an opening fixture.

This used to be the way in the FIFA World Cup.  Having an opening game with no home advantage for either side increased the chance of a shock, as Argentina discovered against Cameroon in 1990 and France against Senegal twelve years later.

From the 2006 World Cup onwards, FIFA removed the right of automatic qualification for the World Champions.  Opening match duties reverted to the host nation given the possibility, albeit a slim one, that the World Cup holders would not qualify.  Germany faced Costa Rica in Munich in the first fixture of the tournament: a 4-2 win and a classic but no thanks to the organizers.  Had Germany's defensive line not been preposterously high and slow, it would have been a mauling.

World Cups, be it football, rugby or cricket, need a proper contest in the opening fixture to whet the appetite.  Unfortunately, the suspicion lingers that what the domestic organizers wanted was a guaranteed win for the All Blacks on the opening day.  How the already brittle confidence of a nation used to finding ever more inventive ways of not winning the Rugby World Cup would have fared had New Zealand slumped to their usual shock defeat to France is a matter best left to conjecture; for the rest of us, a chance of such a close contest would have been a fine thing.