Norwichomon. Sunday: LB

Despite the drunken haze and Low Country malaise of Saturday, the best was yet to come. It arrived at 8.15 the following morning in the form of our obese bus driver, as he turned up, showered, shitted, and ready to navigate us slowly back to London. A quick stop at the hotel before heading to Wembley, the beautiful new jewel in the English crown. (We'll get to that later)

We boarded his tiny van and immediately discharged him of the responsibility of map-reading, because we had the overwhelming feeling that reading a colouring book might have proved too difficult. Bigus knew the roads from his home to the capital very well, and despite every effort by our driver to cock it up, we made the trip in record time.

Wembley, from afar. Oh, how lovely you are

And then, to Wembley, and what a sight it is. For a country so utterly hopeless with architecture, where hastily built housing estates dominate, the imposing sight of the new Wembley on the hill and its brilliant, cantilevered arch thing that serves no real function other than aesthetic (so forward-thinking, I know), is breathtaking. You soon forget what a pain in the arse it is to get there, what with heavy delays and overcrowding on the Tube line out to the stadium, and once we were liberated from our fart-stale van, a good mile out, we set about the backroads through an industrial estate to Wembley itself.

The first sight upon getting there was a large group of Man United fans, and the sight brought back nauseating memories of LFC/Man U games at Anfield. Even though the Carling Cup final opponents were Spurs, this particular rabble were singing and dancing songs about the Neville brothers and hating Scousers. It struck me as odd at the time, but in hindsight, those trollops can only focus on one team at a time, and regardless of their opposition, it always comes back to the Scouse.

It reminded me why I hate the Mancs; their missing genes and missing teeth are just the tip of the iceberg. On a proud day out, they waste their oxygen yakking about Liverpool. Granted, since then, our lads have spanked them in their own backyard, so maybe their songs come from a place of insecurity.

But I digress. This is about Tottenham, and their proud day out at Wembley!

We passed their encampment, a squalid little pub/bar with two floors and a front that made it look like a cross between a B&B and a halfway home. With police on horseback all over the place, the best we could hear were their Yid chants as they drank and drank at the wrong end of the stadium.

Moving around the front, we finally let RZM in on the secret: we were sitting in the Spurs Friends and Family section, in seats our friend had managed to procure from Jonathan Woodgate. I'm not sure what it says about Wooders that his allocated seats were so easily given away, but it was enough to send RZM on a punching frenzy. First, the air. Next, each one of us. That's just how he shows his affection, I suppose.

We got in and immediately set about sampling the pies. The bar was raised quite high by Delia the day before; after the Chicken Balti that was superb, Wembley's mass-produced stodge department had a cracker of their own in the ominous "meat" pie. Easily the highlight of the pie samplings we enjoyed on the trip, despite probably containing enough spare parts of animals and medieval butchering to fill a thousand outraged PETA propaganda videos. Another pie in quick succession and a couple more lukewarm lagers served in plastic cups (never trust a Yid with glassware) before we took our seats.

Walking up the passageway out to the stands is my favourite part of seeing live sport. The noise is tinny and funneled into your face as you get closer to the light, before it hits you full on like a Bigus curry fart once you see the pitch. It was gorgeous, as you'd expect; lush, pristine, well-groomed, and ready for the 120+ minutes of football that was about to take place.

The section of seating was right next to the media section where, in their little gated enclosure, the journalists and columnists would sit and watch, unimpressed, while their assistants frantically typed their reports for them and watched the replay monitors (we'd frequently get up and crane our necks to watch replays, something the giant screens at either end of the stadium didn't do too often). It's also the place where the pundits would horrendously misgrade the players for their performances, giving Jermaine Jenas sevens and eights where half that would have been more appropriate.

Look at the Spurs fans! They're easily distracted by big, wave-able objects, and good thing too!

Back to the pre-game; it appeared that the Spurs fans won the early merchandise game, as the Yids were decked out with big blue-and-white Spurs flags while the Mancs weren't to be trusted with such potential weaponry. It wouldn't take much to snap the wooden dowel in half and start spearing hapless North Londoners, and so, they were merch-free (or maybe they couldn't afford it?). As the teams came out, the stadium was packed to capacity, with the Yids going through the chants (including, bafflingly, "Super Pavlyuchenko" ad nauseam), flags raised high and waved as one would expect.

The Satanists affirm their allegiance via group spelling

The ad wizards at Carling had young ladies prancing across the pitch with giant Carling balloons, attached to which were small banners for each of the players starting the game. Each player had their own balloon, their own little banner thing, and their own disinterested, over-primped teenage girl doing the walk. It was as if the two giant Carling balloons, the center-circle Carling banner, and the pitch-side Carling hoardings wasn't enough. With every big sporting event, the corporation's gotta represent!

Ready to go...

And so, to the game itself. 'Arry was the first manager to leave his dugout recliner in order to gesture wildly at his lads, while Fergie sat back like you'd expect him to, comfortable in his old age and safe in the knowledge that his team, at half-strength for the final, didn't need much prompting.

Surprisingly, it was a decent 0-0. United had the lion's share of the scoring chances, mostly from broken play and wild shots from distance, while Spurs had only two real bright spots: Luka Modric and Aaron Lennon. Jenas was a depressing specter in midfield, doing nothing to halt United's advances. Lennon showed pace and menace down the right-wing, giving the English a glimmer of hope in the "who will replace Becks on the right?" stakes, although it didn't matter how hard he tried, for Super Pavlyuchenko and Darren Bent were fucking hopeless. Reduced to cantering in pursuit of long-balls from the back four, Pavs' most significant contribution was a free-kick from 25 yards that nearly broke the big screen high above goal.

So much for this bet. Money wasted!

King and Woodgate were more than equipped to deal with Danny Welbeck, and while Assou-Ekotto gave Ronaldo miles of space to collect possession on the right, he always managed to do enough on his heels to disrupt the stepovers.

Plotting how to choke the life out of the midfield...

For United, their youngsters showed why they're not quite there yet, while several of the fringe players were equally anonymous. Tevez ran a lot to accomplish little; Nani was average, as was most of their midfield. Once Ferguson brought on Anderson to switch to a 4-5-1, 'Arry dutifully followed suit and any fizz in the game was quickly released. Both teams clogged the midfield and played the hopeful cross-field passing game in an attempt to get round the back.

O'Shea should have been sent off, and Ronaldo was booked for a dive-that-wasn't after BAE hacked him down at the edge of the box.

The Redknapp Salute!

From there, it always looked like penalties. Despite late cameos from Bentley (crap) and Bale (surprisingly good on the left-wing; perhaps he should never play full-back again?), we closed with the inevitable; United, replete with slick technological advantages, won easily on penalties, including the hilariously poor effort from David Bentley. Why he moved to White Hart Lane, I'll never know.

RZM was despondent and quiet, despite several loud bursts of expletives at Bentley throughout extra-time; they were even more hilarious considering Bentley's folks were perched right behind us, muttering and sighing into their scarves. You know it's bad when even his family betray the same lack of confidence in their progeny as the 40,000 Yiddos packed around them.

Ronaldo's ready to shoot... wish he'd missed

Losing on penalties left him mute, and so we filtered out and battled the masses while trying to get down to Holborn so Bigus could do beers and banter with some old friends. On the tube away from Wembley, a proud, rugby-obsessed father sat opposite RZM and me, with his smug, red-headed daughter snuggled next to him. Over the course of the 30-minute ride, she near reduced our Yid to tears with her barbs, for which he had little in the way of G-rated comeback. A depressing end to a disheartening day.

Rooney's face should never be on the big screen

Pies, penalties and David Bentley.

We closed the night with bitters, soju and Korean food before decamping to the hotel for a nightcap and a few short hours rest. It didn't matter, as we missed our flight home.

All in all, Norwichomon was a raving success, and I look forward to next year, ever hopeful that we'll squeeze in a trip to Anfield. My digestive system is grateful for 11 months of rest in the meantime.

Don't forget to pay your respects to England legend Bobby Moore on your way out!

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UEFA Cup Open Thread - Updated

You were good when you wore this shirt. What happened?

[Ed. Note: I'm still in a daze over Beckham joining Milan after Christmas, so forgive the light, well, non-existent posting this morning. Thoughts on that at some point.]

See, I told you there'd be barely any goals in the CL yesterday. Tuesday stole them all, dammit!

Considering we have Villa and Spurs fans reading along, today is their day. All the big clubs are tucked up in bed after their big, important European adventures, and today, it's the kids' turn in Little Cup. To which exotic destinations will these brave clubs travel? What languages might they need to speak? Will we have heard of any of the teams they're playing?

(I could keep going, but I won't)

In light of David Bentley's "bit shit" comments last night, which surely served as the perfect digestif to Juande's long lunch spent staring into the abyss and drooling, we will have some fun watching just how Spurs manage to corral their flabby, directionless collective into a coherent 90 minutes in Italy. Or maybe Ramos will just use the opportunity to check out Serie A "wanted" ads.

After the jumps, lineups, fun, and your colourful comments. It's a good day to be alive.
Udinese v. Spurs
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Udinese: Handanovic, Motta, Coda, Domizzi, Lukovic, Inler, D'Agostino, Isla, Sanchez, Quagliarella, Di Natale.

Subs: Koprivec, Sala, Ferronetti, Pasquale, Obodo, Pepe, Floro Flores.

The Serie A club known as the "Little Zebras" are at virtually full-strength, anchored by an alarming number of Chileans. Alexis Sanchez and Mauricio Isla anchor the midfield, and the strike partnership of Italian National side fringe players Antonio Di Natale and Fabio Quagliarella should thrive against the visibly-aloof Spurs back 4.

According to his wikipedia page, Di Natale is "well known known for scoring impressive goals." Considering the form of Spurs at the back this season, any goals he scores tonight will seem rather ordinary and run-of-the-mill by comparison to previous tallies.


Spurs: Gomes, Hutton, King, Woodgate, Assou-Ekotto, Lennon, Zokora, Jenas, O'Hara, Bale, Bent.

Subs: Cesar, Dawson, Gilberto, Gunter, Modric, Campbell, Giovani.

Gomes has been warned to not injure any of his own tonight, and we see rare starts for Assou-Ekotto and Jamie O'Hara. The center-back pairing of Samson-esque Woodgate and Samsonite-esque Ledley King should provide some comedy this evening. And yes, Ramos looks to be employing UF's favourite formation, the 4-5-1.
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Other games tonight:
Aston Villa v. Ajax (kick off: 3.15pm ET)
Braga v. Portsmouth (kick off: 3.15pm ET)
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Updates:
Spurs are still losing 1-0 from a 1st half penalty given up by Gomes, which is a shame as he's been superb since. Jamie O'Hara did manage a rather Barton-esque feat of greatness in getting 2 yellows within a minute and taking an early bath. Close to the end there. 1-0 Udinese still.

Aston Villa v. Ajax
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Aston Villa: Friedel, Luke Young, Cuellar, Laursen, Shorey, Reo-Coker, Petrov, Barry, Milner, Agbonlahor, Ashley Young.

Subs: Guzan, Sidwell, Harewood, Davies, Knight, Salifou, Gardner.

Expected line-up, right? O/U on number of misplayed passes for Reo-Coker currently set at 102.


Ajax: Vermeer, Silva, Oleguer, Vermaelen, Emanuelson, Lindgren, Sarpong, Vertonghen, Suarez, Huntelaar, Gabri.

Subs: Vonk, Van Der Wiel, Cvitanich, Leonardo, Sno, Anita, Schilder.
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Braga v. Portsmouth
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Braga: Eduardo, Frechaut, Moises, Alberto Rodriguez, Evaldo, Vandinho, Alan, Matheus, Aguiar, Renteria, Meyong.

Subs: Mario Felgueiras, Mossoro, Paulo Cesar, Jorginho, Stelvio Cruz, Cesar Peixoto, Joao Pereira.

4-5-1, probably? No clue. I hear Renteria is good.


Portsmouth: James, Campbell, Pamarot, Armand Traore, Distin, Davis, Diop, Hreidarsson, Little, Defoe, Crouch.

Subs: Ashdown, Utaka, Mvuemba, Hughes, Kanu, Belhadj, Wilson.

Nothing outrageous here either. Seeing a Traore in the starting XI is instant cause for concern. The Traores don't make things easy for their teammates, oh no sir. Little and Large continue to spearhead a decent Pompey attack.

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Old news: Hicks family and Liverpool are not BFF

Nothing will ever be simple for the Hicks family in Liverpool. They were welcomed with the same cautious enthusiasm that met soldiers in Baghdad square (well, we're led to believe so anyway), and now, they've been exposed as rather insidious and dishonest since then.

Liberators on one hand, now they're the dismal status quo holding us back.

Well, it seems like even a monumental win over Manchester United this weekend STILL couldn't buy them some second-hand goodwill.



Tom Hicks' son, Alex Hicks, thought that a night on the town would be a bit of fun, although a drunk American outside the Cavern Club is going to draw some attention, especially when traveling with a small cadre of minders and bodyguards (Rule #1: no matter how restless and crude the natives appear to be, treat interaction with them as something more relaxed than an anthropological journey).

Back at the hotel, a fight broke out, and his bodyguard punched out a security guard and spent the night in the clink.

From the report:

"Witnesses said alcohol and cutlery were hurled out of an upstairs window to the street below. A drunken fracas is believed to have revolved around Alex Hicks and his group of friends."

He was charged with assault and sent on his way, but it is yet more bad press for the already embattled Americans in charge at Anfield. At least Gillett has been seen at some games recently! He even tried to sing along with You'll Never Walk Alone!

Still, it's worth noting that the incident took place at the Hard Day's Night Hotel, the recent downtown development of a Beatles-themed hotel. There's an All You Need Is Love joke in there somewhere...

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Um... wow.

I don't often enjoy being proven wrong, but this is one time where I'm completely fine with it.

Hit the jump for the big scores round-up. Not a bad night for the Home Nations overall, with Wales being the only loser. Scotland bagged a great result away from home, and Northern Ireland did well to hold the Czechs to a goalless draw.



Croatia 1 - Mandzukic 78
England 4 - Walcott 26, Walcott 59, Rooney 63, Walcott 82

FYR Macedonia 1 - Pandev 77 (pen)
Netherlands 2 - Heitinga 47, van der Vaart 59

Finland 3 - Johansson 33, Vayrynen 43, Sjolund 53
Germany 3 - Klose 38, Klose 45, Klose 83

France 2 - Henry 54, Anelka 64
Serbia 1 - no clue who scored it

Iceland 1 - Gudjohnsen 77 (pen)
Scotland 2 - Broadfoot 18, Robson 59

Italy 2 - De Rossi 17, De Rossi 89
Georgia 0

Lithuania 2 - Danilevicius 53, Danilevicius 58
Austria 0

Moldova 1 - Picusciac 1
Israel 2 - Golan 40, Saban 45

Montenegro 0
Rep. of Ireland 0

Northern Ireland 0
Czech Republic 0

Portugal 1 - Nani 40
Denmark 0

Russia 2 - Pavlyuchenko (pen) 22, Pogrebniak 81
Wales 1 - Ledley 67

Spain 2 - Capdevila 8, Villa 17
Armenia 0

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Man City fans take to the seas without a paddle

I love stories like this because they remind me just why we're all fans of this wonderful game. Despite their lunacy, you can't fault a loyal crowd of Man City fans from doing literally whatever it takes to see their team play.

As their UEFA Cup qualifier against EB/Streymur from the Faroe Islands loomed, a group of fans noticed how expensive plane tickets were to the tiny Northern European country, and so they made alternative arrangements: they hired a fishing vessel to take them.

For Mancunians, this is some seriously forward thinking.

The plan was simple: drive from Manchester to Aberdeen, then take a ferry from the northeastern tip of Scotland to the Shetland Islands, and then board the vessel that would carry them on a 26-hour odyssey across to the Faroe port of Torshavn. Presumably they could then walk to Streymur from there considering how small the islands are.

It's a brilliant plan, and an inspiring one at that. It's just a shame that Mother Nature shat on their parade already.

Within 24 hours of the original story via the Telegraph, the BBC reported this afternoon that the vessel was grounded in the Shetlands due to sustained poor weather. Dear oh dear.

If you needed more proof that Man City were not God's team of choice, that would be it.

However, as with all feel-good stories of love and devotion, the force of human kindness intervened, not without the natural PR upside, and gave these sullen Mancs a happy ending: a Faroes-based airline, Atlantic Airlines, has agreed to come and pick them up and fly 'em round trip for free.

Said company president Magni Arge:

"We've agreed to help these Manchester City supporters because this is a great event in the Faroes having Manchester City here.

This is a great opportunity for us to show there is an airline based in the Faroes which can serve both Shetland and the Faroes Islands and we've got some sponsors to help us make this feasible."

Problem solved! Now all they need to worry about is the Blues coming away with a solid victory.

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