All eyes were on FC Dallas’ David Ferreira heading into the cup final last night, the little Colombian having just been named the MLS MVP for the year. He didn’t disappoint, touching in the go-ahead goal and sending Dallas into the halftime locker room up 1-0.
Dallas were playing the better soccer, but it was Colorado who came out more determined to win the second half. And that they did, underlining the effort with a goal by the not-quite-good-enough -for-the-national team Conner Casey.
The game moved then to extra time, which half the crowd in attendance couldn’t be bothered to watch (an absolute necessity, this playoff format). Sadly, Dallas were put out by a weak deflection off Rapids defender George John resulting in an own-goal. Very Tough loss for a team that probably deserved to win.
One final note, the game got pretty chippy for a while there, and there were spats of pushing and shoving, which the announcer described as “Handbags at ten paces“. We’ll let you know if we ever manage to blend that into everyday conversation.
The team with the blue and black stripes has lost the will to win, going down 2-1 to Chievo and falling to 6th place in the Serie A (they’d be in 7th, and out of european club competition completely if not for goal difference).
What the team especially doesn’t need is to lose yet another starting player. But it looks like that’ll be the case, as Eto’o is sure to serve some multi-game ban for this headbutt on Boštjan Cesar.
Maybe this is how it has to happen. Maybe you have to plumb the depths before you can scale the mountain. Maybe this was our game-changing moment, just as the Red Sox coming back from 3 games down against their biggest rivals in 2004 changed everything.
All I know was that at half time, I was ready to throw in the towel – two nil down, bloody typical Tottenham. We hadn’t played particularly badly, just individual mistakes had cost us. Assou-Ekotto not following through all the way to the ball going out of play allowed Nasri to open the scoring. Then a break away from Arsenal resulted in their second, when a still winded Alan Hutton (who’d been taken out by Clichy when Spurs were pushing forward) failed to close his man down and Chamakh was given an easy chance to double the home team’s lead. Allowing Arsenal to take a 2-0 lead was one thing, that the second came from Chamakh, a man who looked like he had no confidence with the ball at his feet and appeared to be wearing a full on Snuggie under his shirt, left me completely despondent.
But then, everything changed. It all started with Defoe coming on at half time. Spurs have really missed his pace and direct style of play while he’s been out injured, and his presence gave them a whole new outlet for attacks. The first goal was a result of that directness, the short Defoe winning a headed flick on to guide the path to the brilliant Van der Vaart, who deftly set up Bale who finished nicely. The equaliser came after a free kick on the edge of the box was handled by Fabregas in the wall who, despite his claims to the contrary, had raised his arm well above his head to block the shot, giving away a penalty which Van der Vaart converted. After that, it looked like Spurs might throw it away again as they sat back too far allowing Arsenal to attack. All through this game, Fabregas was given far too much time and space in the middle of the pitch, and time and again it looked like he would punish Spurs. Gomes did well to turn a shot from him around the post, and then Tottenham again got away with leaving players unmarked as Koscielny headed over from 5 yards out. Inevitably, it was Van der Vaart who again set up the winner, his free kick perfectly measured to Kaboul, who headed into the far corner.
And that was it, Spurs finally won at Arsenal, and away at one of the “Big 4” of Liverpool, Man Utd, Chelsea and Arsenal. 17 years and 68 league games away from the Lane against those opponents without a win, numbers I’d heard far too many times in recent days, all banished with a come-from-behind win. Hopefully, this will push us on to better league form and we can get back into the Champions’ League place. Maybe next time we go to Stamford Bridge, Anfield, Old Trafford or the Emirates, we’ll have more confidence and look to attack from the outset. But whatever happens after this, I’ll enjoy today. I’ll enjoy the win over our arch nemesis.
Manchester City Travel to London to meet Fulham this weekend, the main story being a chance at revenge for good ol’ Sparky. He was unceremoniously dumped by the oil billionaires for not winning quickly enough after their big cash injection, but you could see that he was trying to build a foundation and a team for the future instead of blindly piling superstar on top of superstar in willy nilly fashion.
This fixture provides Fulham’s gaffer the opportunity to strike back, and sometimes these managers will be goaded into a war of words. Not so for the distinguished once-striker, who simply remarked:
“Once the door on my career as a manager at Manchester City was closed then I moved on. I don’t hold grudges. I’m not bitter about the situation. The only thing that affects is yourself. Why drag yourself down with things that have happened in the past? You have to move on and look for other challenges.”
Normally we’d focus on the flailing Italian national side, a team struggling to rebuild after too many years relying on aging players and outdated systems. Instead, the Italians we’d like to focus on now are the small group of hate-filed idiots who felt it necessary to cross the border into Austria with the express purpose of making monkey chants at Mario Balotelli. His own countrymen travelled out of the country, unfurled a banner that read “No to a multi-ethnic national team”, then hooted like apes at one of their nation’s most promising attacking players. (By the way, though born in Italy he’s of Ghanaian descent).
Understandably, Balotelli is fed up. Sure he’s a prick, but this sort of treatment is simply unacceptable. In his own words:
“Honestly, I don’t know what to say. If I have to hear those chants every time, you can’t go forward like that. I leave others to do the judgment. I am happy to be in the national team. It wouldn’t be right to stop a game because a few fans that turn up to the stadium behave like that. We need to change these people but it’s not me that has to do it. Where I live, the people don’t reason like these people. A multi-ethnic Italy already exists and we can do better.”
Italy coach Cesare Prandelli had some words on the matter, too:
“I feel disappointment and anger. We always hear these chants and something has to be done about it. We feel helpless. He [Balotelli] has the support of everyone.”
“This national team is open to anyone who is an Italian citizen.”
The hype machine is running on max right now for 17 yr old Juan Agudelo, the Colombian-born Red Bulls striker who came on with 30 minutes left in today’s friendly against S. Africa, and scored a beautiful goal to win the match for the USA.
The real standout in the losing effort was 17 yr old Juan Agudelo. His movement wasn’t always the best, but he’s quick, has very good control, and plays patiently even right in front of net. He smashed a shot into the post at one point and was a general nuisance to San Jose throughout. By the way, it was his second ever game for the team. You can see he has the markings of a man set for Europe.
The US team looked a little intimidated at first (a stadium of buzzing vuvuzelas is bound to be unsettling), and though they never managed to control the midfield, the defense looked surprisingly good save for a couple of odd-man rushes in the opening stages and the occasional Bafana charge down the wing.
Then Agudelo came on, the man we’d been waiting to see. He immediately got involved in attacking play, holding the ball and distributing, unsettling defenders with his movement, and critically, starting the play that he finished with a blast into the underside of the net. It was a premier striker’s finish, relaxed power right in the goal mouth, as if he were the only person on the field.
He has plenty of room for improvement, and having Theirry Henry around to help guide him has surely helped, but it’s imperative that this boy be sent overseas for further development. Let’s just hope he has a better go of it than fellow Red Bulls alumnus Jozy Altidore.
Milan beat Inter yesterday in the 175th Derby della Madonnina, 1-0 from a penalty taken by Ibrahimovic in the 5th minute (or around the 5th minute, very early at least). It was a rough game, with both sides playing very physically. The Rossoneri were more determined to sit in defense and disrupt Inter’s attack, though they did put together some dangerous movement in the final third, while Inter never looked like they would score, their attack fizzling consistently before reaching the danger area. This was in no small part due to Gattuso’s doggedness and complete disregard for personal safety.
There were plenty of points to consider in the game: Ibrahimovic sending Materazzi to the hospital, the bench-warming skills of Ronaldinho, the speed and strength of my new favorite Milan player Kevin-Prince Boateng…but let’s focus on Inter’s coach instead.
Benitez took a team with no changes to the side that won the Serie A title and the Champion’s League title last year, and has them 6 points off the lead and currently out of a Champion’s league qualifying position. His response, (I paraphrase) “I need new players in the transfer window.”
Let’s take one of his strikers, Diego Milito, who last year was Serie A’s top goalscorer. Under Benitez, he’s been total shit. What’s Benitez’s take on this?
Last season this team won lots of games in the end because Milito scored lots of goals while now he has problems.
Brilliant stuff, Rafa. Hey are you thinking maybe that your team, the team that won it all last year, isn’t good enough, and you should buy a bunch of new players in the transfer market this January? That seems to have worked well for you at Liverpool, where you left a flailing side after having spent millions dollars over your time there on players not worth a damn, then blamed it all on the owners. Oh, here’s a quote from you:
Who could arrive in the next transfer window? All the players expect someone of quality to maintain the level of the side, a side that in the past season won a lot and therefore got tired and has struggled to start again.
I seem to remember one of your excuses at Liverpool was that the owners didn’t know anything about football. Well your new owner does, and this is what he thinks of your side’s performance.
I did not like it at all, as we didn’t do enough to deserve to win. It seems difficult to move forward playing like this. It doesn’t seem to me like we suffered against Milan’s play. The problem is that we actually didn’t play. It’s a different thing entirely and much more grave. I didn’t like anything. One can understand losing a derby, but this time I didn’t like the approach or the aftermath. We didn’t do enough to think about winning. This won’t do at all. It was an ugly game and we did nothing because we became different.
Not good, Rafa, not good. You blame your players, the staff and your former owners, and never yourself. Soon you will be exposed as a fraud and run out of Italy.
Madrid kept their season motoring along with a determined win against a stubborn Gijón over the weekend. Gritty defending from the team ranked just above the relegation zone made Madrid work hard to find entry, and the goal only came late in the match, with Higuaín tapping in a deflected Benzema header right at the goal mouth.
Notable absence at pitch-side was Jose Mourinho, who is serving a two-match ban for abusing the officials in his last outing. The camera occasionally focused on him high in an executive suite, where he looked generally unhappy. He’ll be back in time for El Clásico, no worries.
Otherwise it was a plain affair, made a bit livelier by some guardian insight on facial hair:
For those who don’t know him, Manolo Preciado has the most magnificent moustache known to managers. The kind of thick, bushy facial foliage you could hide a family of badgers in, a tache that completely covers his lip. And that’s saying something because the Sporting Gijón coach has a lot of lip. He’s also got a lot of heart; he probably would hide a family of badgers in there if he thought it would help. He could hardly be earthier if he swallowed soil daily, lighting up a crafty fag on the back row of the dugout before steaming up and down the touchline like a wind-up toy, punching the air. But not before he’s turned it blue. And this weekend he helped turn it bluer than ever before.
All eyes were on FC Dallas’ David Ferreira heading into the cup final last night, the little Colombian having just been named the MLS MVP for the year. He didn’t disappoint, touching in the go-ahead goal and sending Dallas into the halftime locker room up 1-0.
The team with the blue and black stripes has lost the will to win, going down 2-1 to Chievo and falling to 6th place in the Serie A (they’d be in 7th, and out of european club competition completely if not for goal difference).
Normally we’d focus on the flailing Italian national side, a team struggling to rebuild after too many years relying on aging players and outdated systems. Instead, the Italians we’d like to focus on now are the 
