the armchair ultra

BBC Sport Wardrobe Watch - Week 3

2005-12-11T18:33:00.000Z

The odds were raised yet again this week when the great British public were treated to Gavin Peacock's 'Amazing technicalities Dream Shirt'. Unfortunatley the buttons were fully fastened and there was no sign of any schlong showcasing slacks but MOTD 2 is on later and the possibilities are endless. Adrian Chiles in a 'wet-look' posing pouch?

The Armchair Ultra launches an astonishingly-furious-outraged-fuming-blast at the tabloids!!!

2005-12-08T00:08:00.000Z

What a turn around eh? After the Chelsea Liverpool game last night Hamann suddenly perked up and 'blasted', 'stormed' and 'fumed' his way all over the tabloids. And this is despite his catatonic post-match interview on ITV's Champion's League coverage. Then it was all 'well that's football you know'. Now it's all rage and indignation. Or is it?..

As usual our lovely red-tops have been at it again, turning this disgruntled, yet relatively tame quote - "I really feared I might have broken my leg. It caught me just below the knee. The referee apparently did not see it so you have to get on with it" - into a declaration of war. Of course "Hamann ever so slightly peeved at Essien challenge" doesn't really grab you but at least it is nearer to the truth.

If every story is reported with such squealing sensationalism then where are they left to go when someone genuinely lets rip? What if Hamann had said he wanted to tear Essien's bollocks off and feed them to Carol Thatcher for vengeance? Would it be possible to conjure even more hyperbolic adjectives?

Unfortunately this is the hyper-reality in which the Sky-less, ticket-less football fan lives. We don't often see the game ourselves and aided by the likes of the tabloids we fill in the gaps. But everything is so heightened, so exaggerated. You could be excused for thinking that last night's match was the The Battle of Helms Deep but it was actually a dull snoreathon. Let's just hope Liverpool and Chelsea don't meet again in Europe any time soon or we will no doubt be treated to a whole weeks worth of 'Battle of Britain pt. 59' and 'Hamann seeks bloody revenge' headlines before another inevitably anti-climactic 0-0.

The Battle of Britain XXVIZzzzzzzzz

2005-12-06T23:44:00.000Z

How many times will it take Chelsea and Liverpool to play each other in Europe before we realise that it is an utterly, spirit-crushingly boring fixture? Okay, okay so some might say it is a 'tactical game of chess for the purists out there' but come on! Even the purist of pure purists would rather see a couple of sloppy goals dribble in than the 'bore-draw' we witnessed this evening. It was mildly diverting but no more. And this is coming from a man who cherishes every second of terrestrial football, especially those rare live games us 'Sky-less' fans are treated to.

ITV did their best to spice things up but it wasn't helping much. After the game they tried to whip up a bit of life in the players by suggesting the game might have been a bit narky but Carragher and Gudjohnsen weren't even mildly interested. And Hamann fell off into a doze halfway through answering a question about Essien's nasty tackle. He could barely be bothered to finish his own sentence. Zzzzzzzzzzz.

By the way, I will give any reader of this blog a quid for every tabloid they can find tomorrow that does not feature the phrase "horror tackle".

And Another Thing...

2005-12-06T23:24:00.000Z

The BBC's John Travolta-style, medallion man shirt policy on Football Focus and MOTD 2 took the Armchair Ultra a while to get used to. But I have accepted it. I have even come to terms with the ball crunching trousers sported by Shearer the other week. But nothing could have prepared me for Dion Dublin on Sunday. In an effort to push football coverage in to all new directions the BBC hit us with a double Dion whammy of sperm slaughtering small kecks AND a shirt unbuttoned to the navel.

Perhaps this is a 'sexing up' tactic employed to counter the threat of Gabby "I don't know anything about football, but haven't the boys got lovely legs?"Logan on ITV. But it is a worrying trend that the BBC's pundits and presenters are ill equipped to deal with. It can only be a matter of time before Lawrenson appears on match of the day bare chested with arseless chaps with a nipple piercing or Greame Le Saux starts turning up in a gimp mask. Actually, that last one might be an improvement. Dear BBC....

Friends Reunited

2005-12-04T23:40:00.000Z

In other notes from the weekend it was nice to see the Holy Trinity of Lineker, Hansen and Lawro back in the MOTD studio. They should only be seperated by bird flu. And whilst I'm at it never, EVER let Mark Pougatch back. He does a decent job, but it just doesn't feel right.

The Price of Friendship

2005-12-04T22:46:00.000Z

The Armchair Ultra witnessed a sad sight this weekend. No, not Callum Best reading at his father's funeral, but Roman Abramovich sitting forlornly in the stands with just one security fella beside him. Even Jonathan 'it's a throw in, Throw In! THROW IIIIIIN!!!' Pearce was moved to lament: 'we all know how much money he has, but how many friends has he got?'.

This cast the Russian billionaire in an entirely new light. At last the great enigma of football began to make more sense. Until Saturday night I had seen Abramovich as a kind of Bond-villain character bent on world domination and complete with secret volcano lair. But now we have seen the truth. Abramovich is Richie Rich.

Fabulously wealthy, yet terribly lonely - poor little Roman used to cry himself to sleep at night (and frequently wet the bed) beacause he just didn't have any friends. So now the Russian billionaire has been forced to buy some. We have already heard that Roman has a tendency of phoning Mourinho at midnight to 'ask if his team's manager if he saw that night's Spanish league game'. Well, that's the official story. The sad truth of the matter is that Abramovich is just desperate to talk to someone - anyone! And if you can't depend on someone you pay millions of pounds a year to be there for you, who can you depend on? Even now scouts are on the lookout for new pals for Roman to play with. Come January they will lure chums with the promise of £100 grand a week and the use of one of his yachts. But can you really buy real friendship? Perhaps he is just being used by the nasty boys at Chelsea FC.

A midweek interview with Jimmy Hasselbank proves partiularly enlightening. Recounting the post-match celebrations of Chelsea's Champion's League semi-final win over Arsenal a couple of years back Jimmy said that someone had shouted 'double our bonuses!' to the lonely one. And sure enough at the end of the season there was an extra £50k sitting in the players banks. I'm sure Roman was the most popular boy at school that day. He'll do anything just to be one of the boys.

But what happens when he realises that, like Richie Rich, his new mates aren't actually friends but users who only want to use his go-kart track and in-house McDonalds? What happens when he hears Lampard sniggering behind his back and calling him 'a wally'? We can only wait and see, but I fear it may result in the vicious return of his Goldfinger-esque alter-ego. Watch this space.

'Georgie, Georgie, they call him the Belfast Boy'

2005-11-28T21:13:00.001Z

Considering the amount of words that have been written about George Best over the past couple of weeks (or over the past 40 years for that matter) it seems pointless for me to add to them. After all I am too young to remember him playing, and apart from a few replays of some great goals and a couple of queesy looking appearances on Soccer Saturday (seen whilst gazing longingly through Dixon's shop window) he has had no relevance to my view of the game at all.

Or has he? Maybe it is not his footballing legacy that lives on strongest. Maybe it will be something else.

You see George Best INVENTED modern football. Or rather, he gave birth to the soap opera coverage of our beloved game that is now everywhere. He invented the blueprint by which all other players are now represented. Any footballer that turns up in the front pages these days is destined to follow in his footsteps. Caught out in a club late at night? George did it years ago. Flash car? George had a load. Pissed whilst driving? George did that. Banged up? Did that too. Got a ridiculously ostentacious house? Absolutely. Flash cars parked outside? Oh yeah. Beautiful girl selling their 'kiss and tell' story? Yup. Gave her a slap? Unfortunately that too.

This isn't the place to moralise about what George got up to but the fact remains that people love reading about these antics. They were fascinated when Best done it then and they are fascinated when the likes of Ferdinand or Beckham or Gazza does it now. It is what has made the game so big in England today. Don't kid yourself that its the football, that's just a subplot. Its about who John Terry is texting or David Beckam is bonking. Its about who has borrowed Abramovich's yacht and how often Coleen has been out shopping this week. A lot of cultural commentators will tell you that Gazza's tears in Italia '90 were the turning point, the moment when it was the soap opera of football rather than the game itself that took centre stage. But it was George Best that started it. For better or worse it was George that set the wheels in motion.

Rest in Peace George.

A Retraction (well, kind of)

2005-11-23T23:03:00.000Z

At risk of totally abandoning the point of this blog I need to issue a retraction. In my last post I stated that Champions League Tuesday on ITV meant we were to be subjected to that fantastically shit out-takes show with Steve Penk. Now, any normal week and this would be true. But, in the immortal words of the great Steve Bunce, 'this is no normal week my friend'. Because 'I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here!' is on.

However, despite this admin error (my researcher has been sacked) nearly everything I said is still relevant. Well almost. You see, despite their obvious differences there are a few key similarities between the programs. Coronation Street cast members swearing? Check. Exclaimation mark in the title? Check. Sudden, hideous death for all those involved? Yes please!

See what I mean? Not so much of a retraction but instead a clarification with one ringing message...

Don't watch ITV unless you have to. It's crap.

It's Champion's Chooseday Time!!

2005-11-22T02:12:00.000Z

It's Champion's League week. Its a Tuesday. It can only mean one thing. No, not McCoist and Townsend and their stupid fucking table but Steve Penk's 'TV's Naughtiest Blunders!' Six whole hours of Coronation Street cast members saying 'bugger' when they cock their lines up. Call me pretentious but programs that feel the need for an exclaimation mark just to arouse a little interest should be scrapped before they are even made. I hope everyone involved with this program dies this evening only to endure the hell of watching their own program for the rest of eternity...

Land of the Warrior Athletes

2005-11-21T23:07:00.000Z

Being a Sky-less, ticket-less fan is a strange situation. Deprived of actual games we meek out our existence with highlights, match previews reviews and gossip and 24 hour debate on Talk Sport (actually, it's probably about 12 hours if you consider the gaps where the grumpy Nazi's take over). That adds up to a whole load of football, but without any actual games. Like watching all the extras on a DVD but not the film.

What makes things worse is that all of these people are in the business of hyping up the game. 15 minute highlights of a game can rarely be dull, the tabloids do not allow ANYTHING to be dull EVER and TalkSport follows along accordingly. In this world the players are 7 foot warrior men with feather-light touch and skills, the stadiums are blade runner style techno-domes and everything is afforded the shiny gloss of hyper-reality.

But football isn't like that. At least I don't remember it being like that. Football was cold and grimy and nothing happened for what seemed like days at a time. Or at least it was at Wycombe Wanderers in the early 90's. Has football really changed that much since the birth of the Premiership and Champions League? Does it represent the wizziest, spangliest, most dynamic form of the game ever? That's what they would have you believe.

And this all begs one question. If I did get a ticket to a Premiership game (from, I don't know, a generous reader of this blog perhaps) could it possibly live up to the hype? Would I cope without the commentators, pundits and presenters hyperbolerising me up into a frenzy (that should be a word by the way) or without the endless replays or matrix-style camera pans they occasionally pull off? Sat in a cold concrete stadium, desperate for a ciggy I worry that I might learn that Rooney is just an out-of-puff plumper, that the crowds are all set-up on one side for the cameras or - even worse! - that moon landing-style, Premiership football is just a clever special effect and doesn't actually exist!

Yep, that's it. In hindsight, its dangerous to yearn for tickets. It is better to go along with it all. It's Champion's Chooseday after all, I shouldn't be so damn ungrateful!

Don't Cry For Me Argentina

2005-11-12T18:54:00.000Z

That's it! They've done it. England have won the World Cup. In one of the most dramatic finals of all time Mickey Owen scored 2 in 3 minutes to secure England's first proper trophy in 39 years. We salute you boys....

Hang on, it was just a friendly wasn't it?

What a friendly though. Motson was at his senile best, Hansen further revealed his love for the English (I'm telling you he LOVES England) and even dour as dogshit Shearer had a smile on his face. Although that might have had something to do with his worryingly tight trousers.

Despite all this though there was one area for concern. We might have done the Argies on the football pitch but if there was a stand-off in the hairdressers we wouldn't stand a chance. We all know about Crespo's flowing locks and most of us will be familiar with Sorin's comedy witch's wig but nothing could have prepared us for the barnet of the Sideshow Bob-alike who came on for Argentina with 15 minutes to go. Haven't sussed out his name yet, but that haircut speaks for itslef. It was the final nail in England's coffin. There's a lot of work to be done before next summer.

Who needs Sky?

2005-11-11T09:52:00.000Z

Yes, I have 'watched' entire games on teletext. Lacking terrestrial t.v coverage and a radio I was forced to do this on several occasions a few years back. It is a very underrated experience. Despite what you might think there's plenty of drama to be had. Staring at the comically dated graphics, you can project all kinds of fantastical events to the game. The merest flicker on the screen and you're imagining a delightful 30 yard piledriver from Lamps that thuds against the crossbar. Or a horrific Rooney leg-breaker that miraculously avoids even a yellow card. For every moment that nothing happens the tension builds. And seeing the scorer's name appear from nowhere... It's as good as seeing the goal itself. Your enjoyment is limited only by your imagination.

Now, however, I have the internet and the glory that is the BBC online's 'live updates'. I have actually sent cups of tea tsunami-ing across my desk at the sheer excitement of 'Saltieri takes attacking throw-in'. Its magic. Three of those in a row and your team is dominating. If they go a goal down after that then it is clearly, obviously, disgracefully against the run of play.

Who needs Sky and a £40 a month bill when you have these technological wonders of the world?

It's not all good news though. My unadulterated joy at these beautiful inventions is not, however, shared by The Missus. It's bad enough getting her to let me watch a live game (Champions Choosedays are a real battle) let alone teletext. The internet is no better either. She just doesn't get it you see - especially when she's trying to tell some fascinating story from her day only to be 'Shhhhh'-ed. "Can't you see I'm watching the football!?!?"

England V Argentina

2005-11-10T12:34:00.000Z

Sky-less football fans unite and rejoice - it's on terrestrial, it's on the BBC and it's the whole game!

Right now the world is a beautiful place.

It might be a different story at 7 O'Clock Saturday afternoon though. Maybe it's overexposure to the tabloids but I am sensing a 'Judgement Day' style relevance to this game. If we win then they might as well start engraving England on the World Cup. If they lose then it will be the end of civilisation as we know it. A plague of locusts and the four horsemen of the apocalypse will be just around the corner.

A quick note on Graeme Le Saux...

2005-11-10T12:11:00.000Z

My god he's fucking terrible isn't he? Don't get me wrong, I cherish every precious moment of terrestrial Premiership coverage. But when Le Saux comes on the screen I suddenly get the urge to throw large heavy objects at his face. He manages to talk, often for hours at a time, but not actually say anything. There is noise coming from his mouth, there must be. But, I suspect, whilst some frequencies are too high or low for the human ear to register Le Saux has managed to find one smack bang in the middle. It's amazing.

The trouble is that as a player he has been media trained to such an extent that he is incapable of uttering anything but the blandest of bland generalisms. What we need are characters, not robots! Ian Wright might be a bit technically lacking but at least he's alive. At least he cares! Lawro might be a bit of a tit but we love him for exactly that reason. Watching and listening to Graeme Le Saux for more than 30 seconds is like being locked in a beige room with no windows for 30 years.

Big Tone on Football Focus

2005-11-10T12:03:00.000Z

Nice to see that even President Blair cannot escape the new open-neck shirt policy sweeping through the BBC's football coverage. Unfortunately, Mr Blair - or 'Big Tone' as he will now be known - doesn't really have the body for it does he? Admittedly he doesn't look as bad as Alan 'Roast Turkey Neck' Hansen, but it was still enough to put me off my fry-up on Saturday afternoon.