Bristol Rovers vs Welling United

Bristol Rovers 2 - 0 Welling United   (29.11.2014)

You won't hear any more moaning from me. No way. Not at all. Nada peep! On Saturday afternoon a fresh and confident Bristol Rovers team swept Welling aside in a performance of total dominance. After a frustrating goalless opening 45 minutes, Darrell Clarke's introduction of Nathan Blissett and Angelo Balanta sparked the Pirates into some bouts of thrilling football.

Like Elizabeth Taylor in her prime, Rovers' play had an awesome glamour which consumed the crowd in appreciative gasps. For the first time this season, the Blues looked like they deserved to play in a higher division. In the face of this flirtatious onslaught, Welling's tired defenders had nothing to offer in return.

Both substitutes combined to open the scoring when Balanta played a perfectly-weighted pass behind the opposing back four. Blissett charged onto the through ball and bundled the ball beyond the 'keeper. Welling's misery was compounded a few minutes later when Jake Gallagher was shown a red card for a rough foul on Lee Mansell. From then on, the Kentish club were powerless to restrict the home side's controlling play. A Matty Taylor penalty effectively ended the contest inside the last 20 minutes and only then did the pressure begin to ease on the visitors.

The deficit remained two goals through mercy more than anything else. Once again the strict conversion of goal opportunities eluded the Gas, in particular, Taylor failing to complete his brace when gifted a one-on-one chance.

Suddenly, from perpetual doom and gloom, a buoyant sense of optimism has nested itself in North Bristol. One defeat in their last sixteen league games shows that even without reaching top gear, Rovers are a dominant team in this league. Now, with a lethal burgeoning pairing of Blissett and Taylor up front, they could take this competition by storm. Balanta and Lyle Della Verde - a loanee from Fulham - are also a step above this level and could prove to be major assets.

In the aftermath of Tuesday's downpour, the sun is shining on the Memorial Stadium. Will it last? Until Santa has been and gone over the next month, it is too hard even for my mystical powers to foresee.

Bristol Rovers vs Barnet

Bristol Rovers 2 - 1 Barnet   (25.11.2014)

Lashings of rain beat down on the Memorial Stadium for a game of football which could have come straight out of a kitchen-sink drama. Domestic sport does not get any more dramatic than this brilliant encounter. With a minute to go, the atrocious weather looked set to be nothing more than pathetic fallacy and a tormentor of we humble supporters. That is, until a last minute winner sent the soaked anoraks of devoted disciples into a frenzy of commotion. Bristol Rovers, that perennial outfit of misfits and hoofers, had actually managed to claim a crucial victory. Barnet will still win the league at a canter but, by God, these lads pulled the rug from under their feet with relish.

Few fans were perturbed by the cold when Rovers made a rip-roaring start that saw the home side take the early advantage against the runaway Conference leaders. Barnet's defenders were all at sea when a slick pass through to Matty Taylor saw him crash the ball under the away 'keepers flaying legs.

For the rest of the  half, the Gas dominated the Bees with miraculously flowing football, despite the monsoon conditions. It was the most enjoyment I have had at a match in years. There was a real "oof" to the atmosphere and for once the players in blue and white did not disappoint. But by half time the weather worsened and a series of controversial incidents looked to overshadow a rollicking 45 minutes of fierce competition.

When a Rovers corner came sweeping into the box, a looped shot sent one of the Barnet defenders sprawling back towards his goal line. A desperate swivel of the body diverted the ball away from the net. Was it by head or hand? Referee said yay to a penalty, while his linesman - to the home support's apoplexy - said nay. The assistant won the argument and play resumed without the obligatory spot-kick and sending off. On first witnessing it, my instinct said head. But the more I think about the way the defender's arm waved in front of his face, I have to question my reasoning. Either it was a blatant act of cheating or the greatest defensive header I have ever seen. Without a television replay, who can know for sure? Certainly not a guy with rain-smeared spectacles and a notorious lack of awareness.

Before the break Barnet reaped the rewards of their fortune. A free-kick from twenty yards was comfortably stroked into the bottom corner, with the Pirates' goalie Steve Mildenhall relegated to the role of a helpless observer.

At that stage there was no escape from the downpour. Those of us in the East terrace were drowning under the deluge, so much so that by the ninetieth minute fans around me were hoping to skip the necessary injury time and get home that extra few minutes earlier. By the end they were all glad they stayed. Another corner fell into a blundering melee in the Barnet box. Somehow - and I really am clueless as to how it happened - the ball crossed the line. Damp celebrations ensued before the final whistle blew moments later.

Of course, by then the game's early promise had totally disappeared, the second half being an ugly scrap where neither side looked bothered to run into the heavy rainfall. All I wanted to do was find the nearest towel and burrow deep into its soft lining. Alas, the almighty, in his incomprehensible wisdom, continued to urinate on his flock. At least, that is what I think causes rain.

It was a night of amazing triumph for this motley Rovers team. Perhaps this will inspire them to future success. In new addition Nathan Blissett, they at least have a striker who could work in tandem with Taylor, running at the opposition with pace and power. For them it was a great three points, and for me, the start of a terrible cold. Oh well.

Bristol Rovers vs Kidderminster Harriers

Bristol Rovers 1 - 1 Kidderminster Harriers   (15.11.2014)

The Memorial Stadium is soon to be a fitting name. If I could care to be pretentious, I might even call it ironic. When the bulldozers have completed their work and a monstrous supermarket is erected over the rubble, a memory is all that the stadium will be.

Unlike such lost arenas of sporting inspiration as Ayresome Park, Roker Park and Boothferry Park, this rectangular patch of grass is enclosed by a beautiful structure, a pillar of local identity; a lost relic to the days when football was about something more precious than money. It has not been a happy home for Bristol Rovers but many a classic rugby union battle has been fought on its turf. Alas, no longer.

Sadly, once the football ground is gone, my favourite part of living on Gloucester Road will be snatched away. After much thought, over many a long walk, I have decided that I do not like the area. In the early days I kidded myself about its cosmopolitan vibe; a sort of British San Francisco, as I naively claimed . It was on this road that I first saw a same-sex couple holding hands as they walked along in daylight. It is also the scene of my first conversational encounter with Pidgin English. These are things that I embrace wholeheartedly with delight.

Yet, the illusion has finally been eroded away. Every day I walk past depressing, disappointing, despairing social wrongs. Over a two mile stretch I pass countless Big Issue sellers. I hate to ignore their polite pleas but I simply don't have the time or money to help them - even if it is only to buy a magazine I will never read.

They are what I would call the legitimate beggars, though there are plenty who request money without valid reason. A number of people in perfect health, with permanent homes nearby, stop me and state their case. Each time I say no. One man, who lives in my sector of the street, has asked me over ten times for spare change. Does he have no memory of my answer the last time we talked? And why me? On a cold day, when I had no coat and he was well-wrapped in multiple layers, he asked me. In times when I have been standing amongst a group, he has asked me alone. When I am in the laundrette, and have clearly spent a fortune in coins on the dryer, he still asks me. How is anyone meant to make sense of that? Karl, Che', Malcolm: what is to be done?

The football is unique in bringing out salt of the earth sorts. Standing on the terraces, anonymous in the crowd, I feel more at home among them than wandering in this postcode. Our cultures are different but I know enough to blend in. Stokes Croft, Redland, Cotham and Clifton, on the other hand, remain inscrutable.

Without becoming a total disaster, Saturday's game remained a poor outcome for the Gas. A familiar pattern of early Rovers' pressure, then loss of confidence when scoring looked unlikely, and a sloppy goal concede from a set piece, was followed predictably. Matt Taylor (the centre forward, not the rocket scientist with a controversial taste in fashion) saved his team's blushes by equalising from a skidded low cross. Space on the left wing was there to be exploited, and this was where Kidderminster's defence crumbled under a late raid from the Pirates. It was good football, the best I have seen this season, in all fairness. Nevertheless, it still took Darrell Clarke's team over an hour to realise that their long ball tactics were proving counter-productive.

Despite the result, this strong late showing sent the home fans back to their dwellings in good spirits. Back on Gloucester Road - that most strange of thoroughfares - the Royal Oak pub (a quiet middle class establishment with inflated prices) displayed a sign which read 'Home fans only'. How odd. Are Kidderminster's small assortment of travelling support likely to make a scene? In this division you would be lucky if you got 50 away fans, nevermind enough to cause a serious civil disturbance.

Bristol Rovers vs Forest Green Rovers

Bristol Rovers 0 - 1 Forest Green Rovers  (18.10.2014)

My, my, my, the West Terrace were not happy with this result. Two different referees came and went, departing with bellowed boos ringing in their ears. A ceaseless sequence of soft fouls, compounded by the dubious sending-off of the home team's right back, propelled the crowd into an attitude of stern recalcitrance. The world is against Bristol Rovers, or is it rather that, on this particular day, a rough and tumble derby was squeezed out of their nervous grasp.

How could I resist the autumnal bite of this hot-headed encounter? Gamesmanship, the bane of all downtrodden football supporters, was in full flow to the extent that my jaw locked into a type of gurn which similarly afflicts thousands of lower league devotees every weekend. Yet my own mildly feigned indignance was no match for the old man standing next to me. With each tweet of the referee's whistle, this moody codger swayed his head back and forth with the fury of a Hong Kong action flick. As the match stumbled to an irritating climax, I was seriously wary of the danger from a geriatric headbutt.

Bristolians react in strange ways to football, most of which are hilarious. One excited chap, for instance, moaned with a bovine variation on the classic "ooh!" with every close call to the goal. To my own private delight, Matty Taylor's wayward shots were greeted with a shriek of "moowaah!" every single time, without fail. Someone should have called DEFRA because it sounded like Mad Cow Disease had broken out in BS7.

In all fairness, the fans have every right to feel a little aggrieved, especially when over 7000 attended this mercifully forgetful game. The Gas are at a historic low and yet they still cannot score goals. For all his flaws, at least Matty Taylor creates chances for himself and his teammates. His positioning is good, he has the skills to run at defenders and the raw pace to get behind his opposite number. But, crucially, his finishing is awful.

Adam Cunnington, meanwhile, only feels the urge to stroll into the box about twice every match. For the rest of the ninety minutes he seems to attempt a faultless impersonation of the never-lamented Kevin Kyle. A lamp-post could make a more significant contribution to a team on this form than the lanky striker.

David Batty gets stuck in to his prey.

But hey, what do I know about football, anyway? As a committed student of the 'David Batty School of Footballing Excellence' I have never, nor actually wanted, to hit the ball in the back of the net. A crunching slide tackle is far more satisfying.

Speaking of the ex-England midfield enforcer, he would have been proud of Daniel Leadbitter's uncompromising challenge in the second half. Leadbitter, a son of the greatest city on Earth, struck his opponent with a forceful impact for a 50-50 ball - although there was no question of malice on his part. Sadly, you can't play like Batty anymore (you probably couldn't when he was still playing, to be honest), and the already unpopular referee made himself the most disliked man in Horfield by dismissing the Pirates' defender.

At that point the visitors were already one goal ahead after sloppy defending from a corner. It is not the first time I have written that sentence this season and, I daresay, it won't be the last. Until the goalkeeper learns how to catch high balls it will prove to be a continually damaging weakness.

The next match at the Memorial is not until November 15th so I will have to write about something else for a while. Maybe I might start that epic socialist novel I have been planning. Or not... Who knows? At least we get a three week holiday from the drudgery of more Conference action.

Bristol Rovers Vs Dartford

Bristol Rovers 1 - 0 Dartford   (09.10.2014)

An ugly incident unravelled towards the end of this tawdry encounter when visiting 'keeper Jason Brown, gesturing towards the North Terrace mob, complained of racist abuse. Brown spent at least two minutes vociferously protesting to the referee, his teammates, and stewards about a particular section or individual of the near crowd that he believed was the guilty party. BRFC officials say they are currently investigating the incident

Jason Brown accepting his country's call.

but nobody has yet been identified and prosecuted.

Up to that point, the chants from the crowd had been relatively good-natured, with the targeted individual even joining in with the chorus of 'Aahs!' after a goal kick. Much merriment was made of his pink shirt, although, even at these early jovial stages, I could sense a tipping point was imminent.

If ever there was a time for an old pro to think "what is the point?", it surely came for Brown on Tuesday night. With three senior Welsh international caps and a five year stint at Blackburn Rovers to his name, the 32 year-old must have wondered which sins he had committed to be suffering the abuse of idiotic bigots on a cold October night. Two years ago he was playing against Mexico in the soccer hubbub of New Jersey. Now he represents Dartford in a league where they would be ecstatic just to avoid relegation. Every so often, sport throws up a sad story of disappointment and unfulfilled glory: a real life Bull Durham, if you will. Jason Brown will stick in my mind as one of those melancholic footnotes as shouts rang around the Memorial Stadium of "Who the f***'s the black man in the pink?"

Juvenile school yard humour seemingly held a renaissance amongst the Gas' terraces, especially in relation to the unfortunately named Tom Bender, who felt the mockery of a small section of home fans. The incessant yapping of men old enough to know better stirred my own ire against a support base which behaved impeccably the previous Saturday. I wonder, do these immature twits shout at their television set every time Lars Bender controls the ball in the Champions League or German internationals? Of course, it is difficult to effectively ridicule a phenomenally successful professional sportsman, like the man who was initially selected for Germany's World Cup winning squad. A scrawny left back with foppish hair, plying his trade in the non-league, is a much easier target to pick on. As another famous Bender would say to these guys, they can "bite my shiny metal ass".

Over on the pitch, Rovers struggled through an uncomfortable ninety minutes where a scrappy Matty Taylor penalty was enough to shade their dogged Kentish opponents (the Pirates' second from that county in four days). With 37 minutes on the clock, Brown got two palms onto the under-fire striker's placed spot kick, but could only push it into the side netting.

Throughout the game both teams played some atrocious football which lacked any quality or efficiency. Miraculously, however, this win sends the Blues up to 4th place in the table, having been unbeaten in eight games. After such an impressive run, why does the team play like they have the world on their shoulders?

Stewie Sinclair, or perhaps 'Chewie' would be more appropriate with so much facial hair, is an exciting presence in midfield. Aside from his full-throttle approach, Bristol simply do not have the commitment to play triumphant football. I supect the next away game at Aldershot will test their mettle and cause them to buckle. By 5pm on Saturday we will know for certain.

Bristol Rover vs Dover Athletic

Bristol Rovers 1 - 1 Dover Athletic   4/10/2014

After two weeks of skating around Bristol's hip liberal sector, it was a nice surprise to finally meet the city's remaining white working class. For three hours on a Saturday, the cosmopolitan surroundings of Gloucester Road are swallowed by cider-swigging West Country folk. Suddenly the timid Gloucestershire twang becomes a full rumbling of potent accents from the deepest 'Mild West'. Here lies the proletariat underbelly, the blue collar pasty-munchers, the loyal few who keep football grounded north of the Avon.

As an outsider to these parts, my own alien ways can be lost in translation, as I found out all too easily from the locals. My friendly greeting of "alright guys" to the stewards was received with the same bewildered distaste as if I had said something disparaging about their mothers. Evidently, being a foreigner here takes a bit of getting used to. Perhaps I should have addressed them as "my lovely" instead, as is the case with the region's common tongue.

This was my first sighting of the Gas, my arrival inconveniently gatecrashing the club's lowest ebb, as they settle into the tough competition of the Conference. On a positive note, the tickets are cheap (£10 concession in the terrace) and this is perhaps one of the reasons Rovers' attendances have remained stable since their relegation. Over 6000 fans turned up on this sunny October afternoon to witness an entertaining draw between two fairly combative sides.

If the club have their way, this season could be the final bow for the Memorial Stadium. It has been the team's home since 1996 but plans are afoot to relocate the Pirates to an all-seater complex provisionally titled the UWE Stadium. Yikes - talk about negative association! And what is to become of the atmospheric, unique and well-portioned current ground? It will make way for a Sainsbury's superstore, say the planners.

The proposed UWE Stadium.

The loss of the Memorial Stadium will be a dagger through the heart of all neutral football enthusiasts like myself. There is no other place like it in the country, and if it is to be replaced by yet another out-of-town soulless monolith, the league/non-league pyramid will have lost another slice of its true character. Bristol's rugby team has already deserted the Horfield site in favour of settling with rivals Bristol City at Ashton Gate. The turncoat scoundrels! At least, however, it means the turf is rested between fixtures.

Nevertheless, this weekend the discussion inside the stands remained strictly related to on-pitch affairs. After only ninety minutes of frustrating fare for the home devotees, I am already up to speed with the current parlance among the faithful. 'Matty Taylor' and 'barn door' are frequently uttered in the same sentence, while 'play-offs' remain far more commonly breathed than 'promotion'. The team's recent form is inconsistent and lacks the outright superiority to see them reach the necessary heights for an immediate return to the Football League.

The unfortunate Taylor is a recent summer arrival from Forest Green Rovers but has only scored once in twelve appearances so far. Given a tantalising chance to put Rovers 2-0 up when through against the keeper, the young striker fluffed his lines and met the unforgiving condescension from the terraces. In all honesty, though, he was the worst offender of a side which looked bereft of confidence in both attack and defence. After one particularly horrendous backpass, the Bristol goalkeeper survived an early dismissal after bringing down the onrushing opponent through nothing more than an apparent mental lapse by the referee.

Dover stole an equaliser in added time from a set piece and heartbroken home fans left the ground grumbling under their breathe. When they find themselves in less charitable situations, the Conference new boys will find this league a tough challenge. From what I have seen, relegation could be a clear possibility.

I will be back to see more of Rovers' unfolding campaign soon. The real question is, after another two points dropped, whether the other 6000 fans will join me?

Premier League 2014-15 Predictions

Everything is at stake! Actually, only my pride is on the line but once I make these predictions my much-vaunted reputation will be in the balance. Here is how I think the Premier League table will look after all the fixtures are completed. I do not like the way it looks, except for where QPR find themselves.

 1. Manchester City

 2. Chelsea
 3. Liverpool
 4. Arsenal
 5. Manchester United
 6. Tottenham Hotspur
 7. Everton
 8. Newcastle United
 9. Stoke City
10. Southampton
11. Hull City
12. Sunderland
13. West Ham United
14. Aston Villa
15. Swansea City
16. West Bromwich Albion
17. Burnley
18. Q.P.R.
19. Crystal Palace
20. Leicester City

Manchester City successfully defend title
Even without a formidable defence, the Sky Blues have enough attacking options to deliver goals aplenty. Sergio Aguero's fitness is crucial, so too is Yaya Toure. As long as the club's stakeholders do not become too obsessed with European success, their domestic season should run smoothly.

Chelsea have too many superstars for my liking, with the signing of Diego Costa and Cesc Fabregas looking uncomfortably like the rather disappointing appearances of Michael Ballack and Andriy Shevchenko in 2006. Great individuals do not necessarily make for a better team.

Messy bottom half
Once again, the Premier League's bottom 12 placings are much more difficult to predict. Connor Wickham's goals will see Sunderland in a strong position whilst Burnley's hard work and endeavour will keep their heads just above the drop zone. The amount of time the Clarets have Sam Vokes and Danny Ings on the Turf Moor pitch together will be the deciding factor in their season.

Swansea are dark horses for relegation. Last season they occasionally played decent football but Gary Monk remains a dubious appointment as team manager. However, Wilfried Bony and Gylfi Sigurdsson should be enough to keep them safe.

On the other hand, Crystal Palace and Leicester are the most likely candidates for a plummet into the lower divisions. Without Tony Pulis the Eagles are a flimsy rag-tag side. Despite a comfortable ascent to the Championship title last year, nothing about Leicester suggests they have a squad to compete at a higher level. No doubt Nigel Pearson has other ideas though.

2012 Legacy Lost in Basketball Cuts

Once again elite British basketball is penniless. Along with water polo and synchronised swimming, all funding from UK Sport has been axed from the national basketball programme. The uncompromising decision was made on the back of Team GB’s lack of medal prospects at future Olympic Games.

But sport is about more than winning and losing, with the removal of funding sure to affect all levels of basketball in Britain, for spectators and participants alike. Without the annual £7 million  cash injection, it will become increasingly difficult to cultivate professional, semi-professional and amateur players as well as provide the infrastructure in which they can beat the odds and achieve their dreams – even if it is just to have fun every Friday evening.

For me, the British women’s team’s efforts at the 2012 London Olympic games were one of the highlights of that summer. It was a story of pluck and spirit, the kind of thing normally confined to cheesy American family films. The team automatically qualified for their first Olympic appearance because they represented the home nation.

Expectations were so low that some nervous commentators worried about a potentially miserable streak of humiliations pushed on the team. But although they lost every match in their group, the British ladies’ performances showed a determination which defied their lowly ranking and would have given any witnessing Briton a surfeit of pride.

Only three points after overtime separated Great Britain from the hotly-tipped France, who eventually took the silver medal. It was one of those unmistakable occasions when defeat is nothing more than the etchings in a history book; what really mattered was the inspiring performance. The most gutsy runner, Natalie Stafford, had a great game whilst sporting a black eye.

Speaking of the David vs Goliath match, former NBA star John Amaechi (himself a prefect case of basketball’s worthwhile contribution to British society) said “The efforts of this team have been enormous. Much has been said of the men's team taking opponents to the brink, but nothing they've done compares to this team's performance against France.”

"There can be no doubt from anybody who played in this tournament that GB deserved to play in this tournament."

Sadly for everyone involved, this year’s funding cut could mean that Team GB never plays at another Olympic games, based purely on how tough it is to qualify. All that British fans of the sport can do is ask the same critical question of the money-wielder’s current strategy: where is the legacy of 2012? The whole point of the London Olympics was to inspire young and old folks into sports just like basketball, but now the rug is being pulled from under their feet. The issue is particularly pressing in the case of female participation, whereby basketball offered a more athletic and, let’s face it, a more enjoyable alternative to netball at junior level.

Worst of all, the news spreads an unhealthy message that something is not worth doing unless you do it well. The morale of all the passionate people involved in this country’s basketball infrastructure must be at its lowest ebb, knowing that their hard work and enthusiasm is still going unappreciated. So what if their endeavours do not lead to trophies? Isn’t the opening of opportunities for passionate individuals justification enough?

Indeed, participation in schools has dramatically increased in recent years. More children are opting for hoops instead of goalposts and embracing the American game with their peers. Commenting to newspapers, British Basketball chairman Roger Moreland said “The basketball community at home and abroad will be aghast that this can happen again. It seems every barrier to progress for basketball originates in Britain; the very country that should be embracing the progress its basketball teams have achieved.”

“How can a system abandon a sport where 70 per cent of the participants are under the age of 25 and where around 50 per cent of those that play come from BME communities?"

York University boasts both men and women’s basketball teams. Neither are a stranger to the lack of insight from governing bodies when it comes to their sport. The current female Basketball President, Sophie Bennett, believes that neglect from the relevant authorities lies behind the move: “It is true that England have gone the wrong way about dealing with basketball, because the GB team didn't cross the t's or dot the i's, the whole of England has now begun to suffer. How do they expect a generation to get better if they won't help it?”

“Overall, the cut came as no surprise because England have always been so centralized around football that they can't begin to comprehend the rules behind another sport. But given England's display at the World Cup this year - do you think football will get a cut in funding? I'll bite my tongue at the thought of that.”

Basketball is being kicked into a corner at the moment when it looked set for a period of rude health in this country. Without the appropriate support and funding, there will not only be very little chance of Team GB improving its international standing in future tournaments but also creates another obstacle to laying the foundations for the development of the sport across the country.

Lance Armstrong: Not forgotten, Never Forgiven

When asked about Lance Armstrong’s portrayal of himself as a victim of popular scapegoating, the former head of the UCI (world cycling’s regulatory body) Patrick McQuaid said “I would agree with him. He is a victim.” Only two years ago the same man officially plunged the final seal into Armstrong’s coffin when he announced that the famous doper “has no place in cycling. He deserves to be forgotten.” And yet, the Armstrong saga rumbles on, with McQuaid indicative of the reversal in opinions.

Courtesy of Paul Coster.

Armstrong’s legacy is one of divided achievements and contemptible lows. To win seven consecutive Tour de France titles is a phenomenal record. He reached that peak by cheating, lying, bullying fellow competitors and one instance of perjury. In 2012 the former golden boy was stripped of his major titles. But unlike athletics, the sport administrators can’t hand those triumphs to anybody else because it is impossible to ascertain any other tour contenders from 1999-2005 who were totally clean. The Texan was simply the most determined of a very dirty peloton. As it stands, the history books are left blank for seven years, although many individuals within cycling believe Armstrong should be reinstated as a former champion.

The truth is that Lance Armstrong is a bad man. If any sportsman is guilty of pride, greed and wrath clouding their better nature then it is him. Those who were duped acted as willing fools to the lies of the sinner. Cancer or no cancer, the man was an exploitative and duplicitous fraudster.

It just so happened that Lance defended himself tooth and nail to conceal the truth. In sworn statements he called one of his critics a “whore” and Greg LeMond an alcoholic. People’s jobs were threatened and livelihoods endangered. Despite his uncomfortable confession to Oprah Winfrey, it is hard to believe that one of sport’s most ruthless figures is feeling any remorse.

I do not believe the record book should stand empty. Nor do I believe it should celebrate an unworthy winner. Instead, it should read “1999-2005 Tour de France – won by Lance Armstrong: the disgraced seven time Tour de France winner. When cycling was brought into disrepute and guilty of hiding its rotten flaws in plain sight”. Armstrong was the best of a bad bunch and to banish him as a lone outcast would be to make his pleas of persecution depressingly true.

Wembley Way and Pricing Shame

Admission Exploitation

On the 18th the mighty Gateshead competed at Wembley in the Conference play-off final. Despite my gleeful giddiness at the prospect of league football coming to the International Stadium, I was not there to join the battalions of the Heed army at FA HQ.

Courtesy of http://www.landscapesofengland.co.uk/

With tickets costing around £40 per adult, compounded by hefty travel expenses, I was frozen out of the club’s historic moment because my meagre student budget could not carry the strain. At the time I needed new shoes and, with the weather increasingly worsening, the fear of Trench foot made up my mind for me. Bear in mind, after all, that this was still a non-league fixture, not some weighty championship decider.

In the end Cambridge won the match 2-1 so I was relieved I had not felt the need to fork out the cash by unrestrained loyalty. But with over 19,000 punters attending the occasion, my own optional exclusion was the minority experience. Evidently, many other fans took the financial plunge without complaint. Surely such high prices cannot be justified, particularly when they harm the efforts of small clubs and their devoted fans to attract a large following on their grand day out? Perhaps if admission had been cheaper a larger crowd would have ultimately made the trip. Even if people remain willing to agree to such high fees, the system remains neither fair nor ethical.

This season saw supporters of Dundee United and St. Johnstone gather widespread support through their open criticism of inflated ticket prices for the Scottish Cup final. A fund for subsidising impoverished fans was established and subsequently received donations from individuals across the country’s various club allegiances. Nevertheless, the prices which caused such uproar are seemingly modest compared to their counterpart costs south of the border. An adult seat at Hampden is currently valued at a maximum of £35 for the biggest game of the domestic season; less than that quoted by the English authorities for a promotion decider to the fourth tier.

So how much would it have set you back for a ticket to the big one: the FA Cup final? Well, Hull City and Arsenal devotees were expected to fork out £45 for only the cheapest seats in their allocations. Adult seats in the other price bands were officially between £65 and £85 each. The Gunners would have certainly appeared to get their money’s worth but the Tigers’ narrow defeat must have made the hole in some wallets feel a lot deeper on the coach back to Humberside.

Let’s say a family of four (two parents, two kids) decided to watch their team in the once-prestigious tournament. Even without compounding the sum with any travel costs, this average family group would end up with a bill of at least a whopping £160. That is a serious amount for a single afternoon’s worth of entertainment.

Considering this year’s ticket allocation is only 25,000 for each finalist in a 90,000 capacity stadium, it is worth questioning whether ordinary supporters are paying the financial penalties of a bloated corporate presence. Although I personally do not begrudge the places allocated to the FA’s various good causes, the 17,000 seats reserved for Club Wembley members should receive some raised eyebrows.

Everyone seems to have noticed the exclusive seat holder’s absences before and after the intervals of big games, particularly England matches. However, the revenues generated from the members’ grand reservations greatly overshadow those contributions between individual fans.

For instance, the Club Wembley website claims “prices start from £167 per person per event”. That is a little less than four times the cost of the most economical ticket option in the ground. Multiply 167 by 17,000 and you get £2,839,000 in total income from membership packages. With this large figure in mind, it is no wonder the FA are willing to alienate most common supporters if prawn sandwiches are such an effective money-spinner.

In contrast, when Club Wembley has no interest in its possible allocation, prices return to respectable levels. In the past I have been fortunate enough to visit Wembley on two separate occasions, both being the climax of an FA Vase campaign involving Whitley Bay FC. For those admittedly obscure events the general expense was rather acceptable. No doubt this enabled the Bay to collect a marching column of at least 7000 eager pilgrims down the A1 for each tournament triumph.

And yet the costs for Cambridge United vs. Gateshead are set at seriously daunting heights. What chance have modest league clubs like Fleetwood or Southend got of accumulating a buoyant atmosphere, when it’s most needed, if any potential fans feel extorted before they even reach the venue gates? There is simply no justification for such high prices levied at matches in the lower reaches of the football pyramid. I mean, let’s face it; no corporate big-shot is going to be swallowing a big allocation for the League Two play-off.

Even some Premier League sides are feeling the effects of this Wembley greed. The explanation given in some forums for Sunderland’s poor turn out against Southampton in the 5th round was their imminent trip to London for the conclusion of the Football League’s less illustrious trophy the following fortnight. Apparently, many fans could not afford to watch both matches so closely together. Only 16,777 individuals showed up to the game and made the two-thirds empty Stadium of Light an embarrassing site.

Whether this is a valid excuse for such a derisory showing in an important fixture is open for debate. Nevertheless, the situation where supporters are forced to prioritise between loyalty and the health of their bank balance shows that Wembley’s pricing policy is working to the detriment of regional soccer.

Since when was supporting your team dependant on financial largesse? Of course, anyone with sense will have noticed the gradual inflation of ticket valuations across every level of British sports. The only genuinely cheap events are those held at amateur and semi-professional standard.  Wembley is merely the biggest exponent of this exploitative culture in stadium charges.

English fan groups could greatly benefit from a similar protest movement to that held in Scotland. At the very least, another charitable fund would allow those with low incomes to have the privilege of seeing their team on the big stage, in Hull and St Johnstone’s case the biggest of their entire history.

Brazil Battered, Nation Shamed

Samson goes to the barbers.

Whenever a team concedes four goals in six minutes it invariably spells out a performance which is beyond bad. Only a completely shambolic outfit, where players and management are both bereft of concentration and competitiveness, could slump to such a shocking capitulation. 1-7 the scoreboard said. Few believed it.

On July 8th 2014 the Brazilian dream died, nay was obliterated, in the most cruel and gruesome fashion imaginable. Germany, that most ruthless of international predators, happily picked away at the rotting carcass of a bald Samson. They were just as brilliant as their opponents were awful. The Deutsch, even in such seismic victory, never dropped their supreme level of professionalism. On the other hand, the Selecao's arrogance showed no abating until the ninety minutes were finished and the expected public riot did not materialise.

This morning David Luiz said he was sorry. That apology, however, does not fit with his swashbuckling modus operandi during the game. His ramshackle runs forward were full of stupidity whilst his determination to return to his position in defence was plain negligible. Like nearly every other player in the team, Luiz played for himself and nobody else - showing all the behavioural attributes of a nine year old participating in a match for his school team. One sleepless night is too soon, I believe, to make the transition from man-child to responsible and remorseful citizen. For £50 million PSG have bought themselves a brilliantly gifted idiot.

So what if Brazil were missing Neymar and Thiago Silva? This was a World Cup semi-final, not some summer testimonial. They could have at least kept their shape, marked each black and red shirt and passed the ball with the smallest modicum of composure. It was a performance so at odds with the 5-times World Champions history that it brought the entire population's reputation into disrepute. How could a team of professional players give up before a ball had even been kicked? It seems the entire squad was intimidated into despair by its own perceived deficiencies. The Germans simply had to turn up and do their jobs the way they'd been drilled.

I wonder what Pele, Zico, Romario and Ronaldo thought as they witnessed their country's humiliation? Today Brazil mourns the loss of its most treasured national love. It lies solemnly by Garrincha's tomb.

Of course, the team in yellow and blue has been in continuous decline for the last 12 years. Everyone deceived themselves by saying that this Brazil team could actually win the Jules Rimet trophy. Hope was built on the platform of Confederations Cup victory last year, where Neymar dazzled every spectator and stamped his reputation on the world's memory. But let us remind ourselves that in order to win that showpiece competition, Brazil only had to overcome Italy and Spain, both of whom were eliminated in the group stages of this year's cup with equally impotent displays.

When was the last time the South American giant produced a player of Rivaldo's calibre? Looking around last night's starting 11, I could not even find a playmaker in the mould of Kaka. Kaka! Even at his peak he was not in the same league as Ronaldo and, so I've been told, the midfield of 1970 and 1982.

Seeing Fred wear the famous number 9 shirt is enough to bring any football puritan to tears. I can't remember him having a single touch of the ball whilst his teammates slouched like petulant children. His overall movement was slower than a beached whale. Few players have ever looked further out of their depth.

Oscar, Willian, Hulk: all are good players but none have been consistent star performers. They cannot carry the mantle their predecessors lay down in tournaments gone by. What happened to the famous South American production line? Trying to find any signs of flair was like searching a 'Where's Wally?' book.

Brazil needs a reformation in its football system. Get rid of the overpaid has-beens from the domestic league (e.g. Ronaldinho) and focus on producing new talent and embedding them in competitive seasons. The way Socrates and his peers were discovered and nurtured needs to be replicated again. Currently, it is like the post-Roman world, where the academic knowledge of antiquity has largely been lost. For every home fan in Belo Horizonte yesterday evening, the shadow of the dark ages was unmistakably present. A Renaissance is urgently required to revive Brazil's chances of future success.

Hopefully this catastrophic landmark defeat will create the spark of radical reform. Now is the time to halt the decline or, heaven forbid, the Selecao could become as bad as England. Brazil have reinvented their style before, notably after the shame of losing the 1950 World Cup final in the Maracana stadium, but the task 64 years later is a much greater challenge.

My Best World Cup XI

If all the world is a stage then the World Cup must be the greatest platform of them all. In this article I have attempted to list my own personal international dream teams from previous tournaments. My one big rule is that I must have seen each person play. So, most are from 2002-2010 with a few twinkles of 1998.

Although I try my best, these opinions are never infallible so leave your own suggestions below. I'm sure some of the picks are controversial.

GK - Gianluigi Buffon
The Italian side of 2006 is a common theme across my defence. Buffon is a veteran 'keeper with a consistent record as a reliable shot-stopper whilst rivals Iker Casillas and Oliver Kahn have both made obvious mistakes at World Cup finals. The Juventus man proved his own superiority after his sturdy showing in a penalty shootout earned his country the world title against France.

LB - Philipp Lahm
The German rock is as good going forward as he is tracking back. Most people have forgotten his stunning goal to open the 2006 tournament for the host nation. When have you ever seen him have a bad game?

CB - Rio Ferdinand
Pace, strength, intelligence, awareness: was there anything Rio didn't have at his peak? The former England captain was robbed of a fourth finals venture after a knee injury in 2010 caused his absence. It would have been a much easier task for the three lions if he had been fit. Even at the age of 24, he was Sven Goran Eriksson's most important player during 2002.

CB - Fabio Cannavaro
Skippered the so-solid crew of his nation's back line when they won the championship. For every match on that triumphant run Cannavaro was in imperious form. His casual punditry on ITV in no way reflects the incredible standard he set on the field. Only Buffon has collected more caps for the peninsula side.

RB - Gianluca Zambrotta
The unsung hero of the Italy team throughout the 2000s. There is a very deliberate reason Barcelona singed him after Juventus' match fixing scandal and subsequent demotion: the lad had class. 98 caps for the Azzurri proves that. Zambrotta is another player of 2006 that needed to be seen to be believed.

RM - Bastian Schweinsteiger
Everyone knows about the respective talents of the German midfield dynamos. If the Bayern Munich ace returns without winning the biggest trophy he will have been treated harshly by the football deities. On a more positive note, Schweinsteiger appears to revel in the group stage matches more than any other big name modern player. At times his distribution of the ball is totally beyond comparison.

CM - Andres Iniesta
The short midfielder's name is marked in history after securing Spain's first grasp on the Jules Rimet in Johannesburg. His calm and crisp finish was remarkable after a long and ill-tempered match where their Dutch opponents looked to stifle the bookies favourite at every turn. Tippy-tappy tactics may be on the decline but, under long term teammates Xavi and Iniesta, were effective for over half a decade.

CM - Steven Gerrard
Whenever England needs a hero Gerrard is always the first to test his strength. After sadly missing the occasion in Japan and Korea through injury, the Liverpool icon scored crucial goals against Trinidad and Tobago and the U.S.A. in subsequent group stages. In the aftermath of the disastrous 2010 campaign, he was the only squad member to still have some credibility amongst fans.

LM - Zenedine Zidane
Although the man himself would staunchly resist my decision to select him for a wide position, the middle of the pitch is too congested in my formation for his daunting skills. Wherever he might have played, Zidane is an undisputed legend of the game. To remember him for a headbutt, and the many other disciplinary lapses in his international career, is to forget his unbeatable quality. 1998 and all that is a dazzling part of the sport's history.

FW - Ronaldo
Even after eating his way towards a porky profile, 'Big Ron' could still score goals at the highest level. A reported epileptic fit is said to have curtailed his preparations for the 1998 final in Paris. Nevertheless, redemption was secured four years later with a brace against Germany in the deciding game. Nobody else has scored more World Cup goals.

FW - Miroslav Klose
In a similar vein to Geoff Hurst, the German forward's club career has always come second to his exploits with his country. On several occasions he has carried some particularly average squads to admirable heights on the back of his goals tally. His ability in the air is still something to be greatly feared at the old age of 36.

Supersub - Michael Owen
In hindsight it is easy to scoff at one of the greatest unrealized talents in football history. Between 1997-2004 however, Michael Owen was an unstoppable force, curtailed more often by medical ailments than opposing defenders. Deadly as a poacher, agile as a dribbler and devastating as a sprinter he destroyed some of the best teams in the world.

The Yorker Football Show Ep. 4

Take a look at our most ambitious episode yet. The wildcard Switzerland team are rated whilst new segments include World Cup History and "If only...". The World Cup is so close I can almost smell it.

The Yorker Football Show Ep. 3

This week I am joined by Nicholas Montebello. We discuss the Rickie Lambert transfer story and Chile's chances at the World Cup. Filmed at Vanbrugh Dining Hall.

Possible England XI vs Peru

Handy Andes

The last time England played a South American side at Wembley they were easily beaten 2-0. An Alexis Sanchez masterclass saw Chile give Roy Hodgson's men a frosty reminder of the quality waiting for them at the World Cup in Brazil.

On this occasion the England gaffer is likely to field a more experimental team, giving himself the opportunity to have a closer look at the abilities of Luke Shaw, Ross Barkley and Adam Lallana. The selection below is just one possibility for Hodgson to follow.

GK: Hart
DF: Baines, Cahill, Jagielka, Johnson
MF: Gerrard, Barkley, Henderson
FW: Lallana, Rooney, Sturridge

Barkley's card to Brazil
Everton's vibrant youngster is battling with Jack Wilshere and Jordan Henderson for a position among the central three. For this friendly, at least, Barkley has the chance to prove he warrants a key role in the national side beyond his recent cameo appearances as a late substitute.

Any link-up play with Gerrard and the advanced wingers will be pivotal to his opportunity to impress. With piercing runs from deep, a goal from Barkley's boot is more likely than for any other England midfielder. Fans of Newcastle, Norwich and Manchester City can appreciate that.

Pressure on Johnson
In the absence of Kyle Walker, Glen Johnson has become the only natural right back in the entire World Cup squad. At 29 years old and with 50 senior international caps, the Liverpool player should be reaching the peak of his abilities.

Whether Hodgson opts to try out the other workmen full-backs, Phil Jones and Chris Smalling, largely depends on the guaranteed defensive security of his right flank. Portsmouth's former creative runner will need to curb his innate enthusiasm for getting forward to convince the management team that he can hold firm against the world's best wingers.

Lallana's Late Push
Since assisting Daniel Sturridge's late winner against Denmark, Southampton's star figure has continually impressed both fans and commentators with his performances in the domestic league. Only a foolish coach would not start him in any of the exhibition games before the Italy encounter on June 14th.

As a testament to his importance over the last twelve months, Lallana has featured in all 38 of the Saint's Premier League fixtures this year and added nine goals to his decent tally from previous campaigns. A move to one of the big teams will surely occur after the tournament has been decided.

The Yorker Football Show Ep. 2

Hello again. I am pleased to say that this new episode is a big improvement on the pilot. I analyse the rebirth of the 4-3-3 in the Premier League and the implications this will have for the England World Cup side.

For the third episode I will be joined by a panel of guests to discuss some teams to watch at the ever-approaching festival of football.

The Yorker Football Show Ep. 1 (Pilot)

This season may be nearly over but the football never ends. In the video embed below is the pilot episode of the Yorker's new football show. Coverage includes the World Cup and the FA Cup final.

As merely the starting pointing on a long journey towards the hallowed turfs of Rio de Janeiro and Manaus, the standard of coverage is not great. In little time however, future episodes will make Football Focus look rather drab in comparison. At least, that is the intention.

End of Season Awards

PFA, Football Writers', LMA: Nobody cares about those awards. It's all politics, eh? How about an honest appraisal of the great and glorious 2013/14 season. And the winners are...

Goal of the Season - Luis Suarez vs Norwich
Oh this was a screamer. No, not the blaster from 40 yards out. I mean the the Uruguayan's third goal to round off his incredible hat-trick. Ball on the bounce, beats a flurry of dumbstruck canaries and pings a flat stroke into the far corner. A ball has never before been hit with such awesome power yet so little loop.

Biggest Flop - Marouane Fellaini
Twenty-seven million pounds. £27 million. £27,000,000! If Manchester United had invested that much in timber stocks they would have got a better deal. Maybe they did considering how wooden the Belgian midfielder's performances have been.

Overachievers - Hull City
Liverpool's unexpected title race ran them close for this honour but the Tigers have roared their way to an FA Cup final and the best league finish in the club's history. In doing so, Steve Bruce dispelled at least three modern myths: 1. Cup success comes at the cost of league form 2. It takes large summer investment to stay in the Premier League 3. Steve Bruce is an average manager.

Underachievers - Tottenham Hotspur
Summer title contenders? Pffft! The Spurs squad is densely packed with over-paid, over-hyped, tactically unsound 'professionals'. In September Daniel Levy was forced to ask himself how he might replace an individual as gifted as Gareth Bale. Apparently, his answer was to sign a selection of desperately average moaners and groaners. Aside from Christian Eriksen, the only other player to make an impact in such a dreary season was a man largely sidelined until Tim Sherwood rescued him from the scrapheap. Yes, I'm talking about you, Emmanuel.

Most Detrimental January Transfer - Yohan Cabaye
Dear Mr Le Blanc, would you please let me borrow a former squad member of mine for a few weeks next year? I would be very thankful. We all miss him. Please!
From your bestest ever friend, Alan Pardew.

Biggest Banana Skin - The one under Steven Gerrard's foot (Liverpool vs Chelsea)
There has never been a more literal usage for the term "title slip".

The Alex Salmond Award for Scottish Pride - Dundee United
With Ryan Gauld, Andrew Robertson, Stuart Armstrong and Gary Mackay-Steven all pushing for a place in the Scotland XI after an excellent season, the bright youth prospects at Tannadice echo with Southampton's similarly impressive academy products. An SFA Cup victory this weekend will have heads turning among England's league clubs soon enough.

Worst Implosion - Blackpool
After eighteen matches without a win the situation at Bloomfield Road became rather ugly. The Seasiders went from being promotion contenders in November to finishing two points off the relegation zone in May.

Richard Scudamore gaffe of the year - Misogynist emails
Not content with alienating every football fan in Britain with his 'Match 39' proposal a few years back, the Premier League chief has subsequently insulted every woman in the world. The press seem to be angry and demanding more blood than Shylock of Venice. Quick Richard, call Andy Gray; he will know what to do.

Reasons for Relegation at Cardiff City

Fake Tan and Norse Myths

After an embarrassing 7 goal deficit from their last two away outings, Cardiff City are now doomed to reprise their regular place in the Championship. It took the Bluebirds over half a century to fight their way into the top tier, but a single season, coloured by fan protest and boardroom turmoil, has possibly condemned the club to another long Premier League exile.

The not so great Dane Andreas Cornelius.

Once upon a time, the fans dreamed of seeing their boys don the historic blue kit at the highest level. Even that did not work out right. Lucky red? Apparently not.

How could a team which won promotion so comfortably in 2013 become mere goal fodder to the rest of the division within a matter of months? Having found the net on only 31 occasions and conceding a whopping 72 times, few positives can be gleaned from the wreckage of this disastrous campaign.

Back in September the mood was totally different. Malky Mackay had assembled a reasonable, if unglamorous, squad of budding pros to aim for survival. Such optimism was vindicated during the dying throes of August as Manchester City’s star-studded roster was outsmarted in the Welsh capital, beaten by a Fraizer Campbell brace from set pieces.

Unfortunately for the Taffy faithful this type of shock result could not be replicated across their remaining fixtures. Even more damagingly, CCFC have lost resoundingly against similarly drop-threatened sides such as Crystal Palace, Aston Villa and West Ham. A third of their total thirty points which were ultimately scavenged came from the carcasses of the other relegated clubs, Norwich and Fulham.

Nevertheless, results alone are not to blame for a run of consistently poor form. Vincent Tan, the club owner; philanthropist; megalomaniac tycoon and part-time Bond villain made Mackay’s situation untenable by a series of undermining and damaging moves. He continues to claim that the Scottish coach, along with head of recruitment Ian Moody, drastically exceeded their transfer budget without his consent for a selection of underperforming summer signings. Judging by the disappointing contributions of Andreas Cornelius (£8 million), Gary Medel (£11m) and Peter Odemwingie (£2m) the Malaysian entrepreneur is not wrong.

Whatever the justification though, Tan’s actions in publicly shaming his manager significantly unnerved the squad as it approached a crucial phase of December encounters. As the only man willing to bankroll his property on its ludicrous level of debt, Cardiff supporters are tethered to the uncompromising businessman for the foreseeable future.

Contrary to general opinion, Ole Gunnar Solksjaer has shown signs of good management since his appointment. Nobody expected the desperate side to claim a 1-0 victory at Southampton or the remarkable last-minute comeback at the Hawthorns. Even so, some of the worst results have come under the Norwegian’s tenure, including the shambolic and damning scoreline away to Sunderland. Following that nightmare, the original super-sub’s men went thirteen miles up the road to play out a lifeless 3-0 loss against a dangerously self-loathing Magpies team. With that meek surrender relegation was confirmed.

In such a tight season amidst the lower reaches of the table, two points could have made all the difference. Alas, such an elusive pair was within grasp of a managerless Cardiff as they faced the stupendously weak Teeside outfit on a cold winter evening. Ten minutes before full time the home side were two goals in front. But with a late mackem double levelling the scores, the greatest opportunity to ever appear at the Cardiff City Stadium – or even the former Ninian Park – withered away into the New Year gloom.

Thus the pendulum in the relegation race had suddenly swung the other way. Along the way Gary Monk inflicted a crushing derby day defeat in his first game as Swansea boss and Wigan Athletic unexpectedly ousted their opponents from the FA Cup.

Nobody can know for sure whether Mackay would have ensured a finish of 17th or above. Still, it remains a fact that the Bluebirds’ most creative player, Jordan Mutch, was signed for a relatively paltry fee from Birmingham nearly two years ago, failing to be consistently picked for the first XI by the former Watford gaffer. Mackay is clearly no corrupt sleazebag but nor is he a footballing genius either.

Premier League Preview (Audio) 2 May

Sounds like Soccer Spirit

This week I am discussing West Ham vs Tottenham Hotspur and Newcastle United vs Cardiff City with Ming-Ti Chan. Click to be redirected to the file from Soundcloud below to hear our discussion. After five minutes the recording equipment begins to struggle but does not drown out any of what was said.

Future episodes might potentially feature video pieces as well as voice recordings. If you want to be involved in the series then contact me through the Out in the Cold email address.

Click here to listen to the audio blog.

Best Songs From Football Video Games

Pitch Perfect

Since soccer simulations became the staple of the video game market in the late nineties, their soundtracks have included the most fresh and groovy tunes of the day. From seasoned performers to breakthrough acts, artists from across the globe have taken a shot at the ever-growing virtual market, aiming to boost their popularity amongst the angry youths driven off street corners and onto their consoles.

Fatboy Slim, Keane and the Hoosiers have all scored hits after their tracks were featured with EA Sports' FIFA franchise. So, against such stiff competition, which songs have I got hidden in my historic boot locker?

Irish Blood English Heart - Morrissey (FIFA 05)
Kicking off my list is a classic tune of misanthropic protest from the most angry of former front men. In late 2004 adrenaline-pumped gamers were treated to a rant against Oliver Cromwell, party politics and nationalism. It was a left-field choice for both EA and Morrissey himself but the ex-Smith tuned into the petty antagonisms felt by thousands of control-twitching fanatics. Frankly, that nonchalant guitar intro was wasted on the banal menu screens.

Eat My Goal - Collapsed Lung (LMA Manager 2001)
Don't act coy; you know the chorus just as well as I do. LMA Manager thankfully dispensed with the verses entirely, playing the shortened version on a loop during each saving pause. However the game was only available on the first Playstation so it took a very long time to store any memory data. After a while Collapsed Lung's simple chant started to become ingrained in my own squishy pink memory card too. Ah, nostalgia!

Club Foot - Kasabian (Pro Evolution Soccer 5)
Club Foot is another classic footy anthem to get the blood pumping. Sky Sports has also been known to use its raving, shouty antics to get 'the lads' hyped before a big game. Most gamers would sit through the full loading intro just to hear the song again. For a track with some very odd lyrics, Kasabian's product is an absolute scorcher to jump around to. Why has their following output, including Empire, Fire and Shoot the Runner not found itself on a sports game yet?

Dy-Na-Mi-Tee - Miss Dynamite (FIFA 03)
Stop sniggering! History has been unkind to the Mercury-winning bad lass of early noughties R&B. Miss Dynamite's title track was perfect for anyone taking a break from the rigours of career mode to chill in the main menu. I may not be an expert on music but Dy-Na-Mi-Tee sounds like an original melody with plenty of exciting elements. The FIFA franchise has not had a particularly good record when it comes to grunge but this seems to be the closest EA made it to kitchen sink pop.

Young Folks - Peter Bjorn and John (FIFA 10)
Ooh, I don't mind a bit of whistling. Of all the songs that have appeared in a FIFA game, Peter Bjorn and John's odyssey into Scandi-rootin'-tootin' is by far the most memorable. So what if it pretends to be an insufferable hipster?

Disagree? Post your own favourites below.