Showing posts with label ingering Bursitis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ingering Bursitis. Show all posts

Thursday, May 21, 2009

In Scudamore, we don't trust

His nose looks remarkably clean for a man who has his head firmly up his arse


There is still a lot of whinging and moaning about this weekend's EPL slate, and almost all of it revolves around Robbie Keane's vow for revenge at Anfield what kind of team Sir Alex Ferguson will choose to play Hull.

Will he play kids? Will he play the three-headed monster of Ronalrooneyvez? Does anyone outside of Hull and Newcastle even care? (We'll leave out the text promise made by Darren Fletcher to Ricky Sbragia, then)

Thankfully, EPL Chief Richard "Dick" Scudamore has weighed in, having taken five minutes between business luncheons and napping under his mahogany desk to contradict himself.

On one hand, Dicky Scu thinks it's peachy-cool for United to do whatever they wish and play any number of Serbian teenagers in a crucial relegation battle. They've apparently earned their right to do so.

I find this to be a little alarming; the head of the league is condoning such a wilfully destructive approach to a game with massive Colaship implications, and doing so in the carefree, breezy manner that you'd expect from a guy with tons of money and absolutely no perspective whatsoever.

Excuse me, Mr. Shearer? You just got the thumbs down from Emperor Scudamore in the Coliseum of Relegation. Or something equally far-fetched, metaphor-wise.

And then, in a drooling BBC radio interview, he says he fully expects United to field a strong competitive team, thus ensuring a fair and balanced final weekend and no such repeats of the Carlos Tevez/Sheffield United mess that plagued the league a couple of years ago (lest we forget that Fergie ran out his 2nd XI in that crucial game, the one where Carlos scored, the Hammers went apeshit, and Phil Warnock paid his lawyers for a million billable hours in advance).

Of course, 'Arry, a man who's been rather quiet down the stretch (being a mid-table side will do that to you), rolled off his hemorrhoid donut and wolfed down his meat-and-cheese pie in double-quick time so he could pen a column for the Sun saying that everyone should just stop crying and that Newcastle can have no complaints or gripes one way or the other.

Fergie did say he'd play a strong team, so that's something I suppose. But this isn't about United... it's about Scudamore, and that he's a total and complete fucking moron. I realize that the ka-ching of the EPL cash register is loud and all, but take a minute sometimes before you speak. There are three clubs threatened with a grim fate, and your soundbites paint you as an aloof, careless idiot.

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