One glance marks him for what he is, an odious man who relies solely on his reputation and the support of a bunch of Neanderthals to cement some credibility in the game. The fact that he and his chums lamely tried to discredit his opponent before the battle commenced is typical for this moronic dunderheaded poltroon.
How Rafa shook his hand without having a bottle of Dettol nearby is beyond me.
Football managers are not, by nature, clever men. Mick McCarthy, a fellow clogger from the old school, complained last December that Reina had bullied the referee in such a way that his players were no longer allowed to cheat, Atkinson and Clough had their racist airs protected by their maverick characters-are-good-for-the-game personae while the supposed intelligentsia of Wenger and Houllier have also had their moments. Eating the grass, Gerard?
Of course, Allardyce can name Peter Reid, Andy Gray and Ferguson as his mates so there’s little else to expect. For a man to tell the world that ‘we had five bookings and 25 fouls against us but that is not a reflection on how we played’ and expect affirmative grunts in return is testament to his foolhardiness. You can call it committed football and ‘playing with no quarter given’ but sticking your hand in an opponent’s face and pushing him to the ground and being brave enough to jump into a keeper who you’ve only just injured is one thing and one thing only – dirty. All Allardyce teams tend to play this way with the exception of Newcastle who, even with Smith and Butt in the side, couldn’t quite bring themselves to do it. Somehow we’re expected to believe that this is one of the best English managers in the game who can dig out the extra 10% from players where it’s needed or from those whose careers are on the slide. Who remembers Kevin Davies being a good young finisher when he set the FA Cup alight in 1997 with Chesterfield? What’s the first thing you think of when you hear his name now? The Allardyce Touch.
Having such big mates in the media means that it’s rare that his own version of Slap Shot is mentioned and he’s positively incandescent with rage if it’s pointed out by a bespectacled Spaniard. Like Warnock before him he’s chosen Rafa to be his unwilling Moriarty. Rafa has his critics but to watch him be drawn into mind games by Allardyce is akin to a fly dive-bombing a rhino. He’s not a rival, he’s an irritant. Rafa’s learned his lessons since the ‘rant’ and now criticise referees by publically stating that he won’t criticise them. Hard to fine him for that. Now he’s leaning on sarcasm. It’s been a while (‘I'm in a hurry and I must go to the hospital to see how Robben is, he could be in hospital for a week.’) so it was nice to see it return. I’m sure someone will explain it to Big Sam TM later.
One big plus about the actual game, the undercard to the touchline jousting, was Maxi Rodriguez. He made a massive difference in as much as I noticed him this time. I’ve lost patience with Riera and Babel’s frustrating form so maybe he’s an answer to one of our many questions. Other than that The Big Two were back and scoring. We even experimented with some one touch football during less violent moments. Perhaps there’s a football team in there somewhere trying to get out. We still have our problems as Blackburn could have equalised but lacked the wit with which to do so. Ah, well.
The other handshake, this time a non-handshake, was much more interesting and again it’s the culture of stupidity that offered the most audacious and shallow defence. Terms such as ‘bottler’, ‘difficult week for the Chelsea skipper’ and ‘brave’ were readily used without blushes. One man walked away from the game’s greatest tournament because he thought it might be better for the squad while another remained in it for no other reason than that he could. Craig Bellamy’s hints that this might not be an isolated incident (or, at least, that’s how I read it) were intriguing and depressing in equal measure. This might be the end of it now but that depends on how good the lawyers are at putting out fires. Team Terry, like Team Allardyce, is governed by idiots but, sadly, all idiots have voices.
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