Weekend Round Up (9-10 Apr 2010)

Bit of a rag tag weekend this, as the FA Cup semi’s completely disrupted the Premiership’s fixture list.  I don’t even know if there was a MOTD on Saturday night, if there was they only had two games to show, and one of them was Hull v Burnley.  If it was on I’d imagine the viewing figures will be the lowest for a BBC show since the days El Dorado (I was one of the few who appreciated it’s genius.  Marcus Tandy, the lovely ‘Pilar’, Fizz and Bunny…. good times).

Given what happened to Burnley last week, when they fell behind to a Kevin Kilbane goal at the KC Stadium (you know you’re shite when Zinedine Kilbane is scoring against you) the writing looked to be on the wall for them, but they came storming back and amazingly trounced Iain Dowie’s men 4-1.

Martin Paterson grabbed one of the goals, but he’s a strange looking cat isn’t he?  Doesn’t look like a footballer, in fact he barely looks like a human.  An odd looking creature he is.  51 year old Graham Alexander scored twice from the spot (still got a way to go to beat Yakubu), and Wade Elliot added a fourth with a brilliant free-kick.

I remember hearing good things about Elliot last season, he was meant to be pretty good but I’ve not heard much about him since they came up.  So he’s either been injured or is just another one of those players who is brilliant at Championship level but not good enough to make the step up.  (See also Robbie Blake, Ashley Ward, Rob Earnshaw and West Bromwich Albion)

After the week he’s had, I was almost happy for Brian Laws.  Then I remembered I hate the cunt, so fuck him.  Looking at Iain Dowie’s face as the goals rained in against his team, the poor guy looked horrified.  Wait, did I say ‘horrified’?  I meant horrific.  If, God forbid, Dirk Kuyt ever had a disfiguring accident he’d probably come out looking like Dowie.

The other game on Saturday saw the West Ham pick up a much needed win over Sunderland.  Zola looked like a kid on Christmas morning at the end, bless him.  Pleased for him, not so pleased for their gobshite owners.  Would like to see those two in the championship where they belong, but the Hammers are looking good bets to stay up, especially as they have an easy game coming up a week tonight.

MOTD2 on Sunday night had more games to get it’s teeth into, but not so much in the way of goals.  In fact, Manchester City pretty much saved the entire show from being one long snoozefest.  The mancs without Rooney drew a blank at Ewood Park, us without Torres did the same at Anfield, and Stoke without Fuller played out a goalless draw at Wolves in a game that had more long throws than an NFL contest.  And is there a worse player in the league than that Sidibe fella for Stoke?

The mancs were the main game, and a bad week for Ferguson got worse as they dropped two more points.  This was a big, big upset given the ’special relationship’ that exists between the two managers.  Fat Sam looked almost apologetic at the end when he shook hands with his hero.  So he should be, he certainly won’t be getting an invite to the races from Sir Alex next year the ungrateful fat cunt.

It should have been even worse for the mancs actually, as a blatant pen was not given when Neville dragged Rovers defender Jones to the ground in the area.  “Gary Neville had his hands all over the Blackburn teenager” said the commentator.  Not the first time those words have been uttered I bet.  Or the last.

Rio Ferdinand suffered a nasty looking injury when the camera showed his finger pointing wrong way.  Not having much luck is he.  A bit of tape can strap up the finger, but what do you do about a top lip that looks like a giraffe?  You’ve been ‘Merked’ by Mother Nature, son.

Blackburn were worth a point, but it needed Paul Robinson to make sure they got it.  He played well again, and for me he’s the best English keeper by a distance.  He comes across as a nice fella too, and always warmly applauds the Kop, I like him and hope he makes it to the World Cup.  Although then again, would I really wish John Terry’s company upon anybody?  Gillett and Hicks maybe, but that’s about it.  No-one deserves to have to be around that lowlife.

He outdid himself again at the weekend, almost cutting James Milner’s leg off at the knee, the fucking shithouse chav cunt.  He’s big and brave though you know.  Big JT, fearless leader.  Add Milner to the list of World Cup team-mates who think he’s a fucking snide prick.  No red card either, our old friend Howard Webb saw to that the useless twat.

He also ‘missed’ a blatant pen for Villa in the first half, even though he was looking right at it.  Villa went on to lose 3-0 to the 12 men, and Chelsea are still on course for a League and FA Cup double.  Be nice if Arsenal and Pompey stopped them like, but I can’t see it unfortunately.  Credit to Portsmouth, a remarkable feat getting to the final given all that’s gone on there.  Spurs are imploding hugely now, and might not win another game unless they get their fingers out.

As I said, City single handedly saved MOTD2, putting five past Birmingham to make it 11 goals in their last two games.  It took a ridiculous penalty for them to go in front though.  Adebayor leant into the defender and then collapsed in a heap.  Tevez scored from spot, and ‘Fergie sign him up’ rang around Eastlands.  Always makes me laugh that chant, it’s class.  Tevez added a second when Onuoha’s header brushed against him on it’s way in, and Adebayor got on the scoresheet after Jerome pulled one back for the Brummies.

City added two more in the 2nd half, as Onuoha and Adebayor both found the net, prompting Adebayor to give the ‘twat dance’ another showing.  At least this time he waited til it was 5-1 and there was no danger of the opposition immediately going up the other end and winning a penalty and making him look like a massive, shit dancing, helmet.  He’s such a huge twat he really should be playing for Chelsea.

That’s about it really, the only other observation I made from the weekend is that Alex McLeish really is alarmingly pink skinned, and pink and ginger isn’t a good combo.

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