It’s that time of the week / When you shirk off and read / A review of this weekend in the Premier League!
All Hail The Moyesiah
When David Moyes was appointed as manager of West Ham back in early November, fans were understandably sceptical. This very columnist opined that he was “a man who has inspired more spicy memes over the past few seasons than he has actual football teams”, which was actually one of the more sympathetic lines. Having been beaten by Manchester City, Watford and Everton since then – as well as salvaging a 1-1 draw with Leicester – there has been little to suggest to disgruntled Hammers that Moyes is the man to save them from relegation. That was until this Saturday, when he earned himself a result so impressive that he’s now being compared to Jesus Christ.
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Forget that Chelsea were coming off the back of a chastening midweek battle against Atletico Madrid in the Champions League; never mind that the Blues squandered a host of chances and were semi-effectively kicked off the park. Grim spells at Manchester United, Real Sociedad and Sunderland may have left Moyes looking more like Mark Noble’s gran than the Son of God, but a 1-0 victory over Antonio Conte and co. has been enough for him to be widely hailed as the Moyesiah. Either that’s proof of his potential to work miracles this season, or a sign that expectations are so low at the London Stadium that three points at home is equivalent to curing lepers, walking on water and feeding the 5,000.
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What Would Churchill Think?
Having spotted Chelsea striker Michy Batshuayi using a hot water bottle on the bench at the London Stadium, commentator Jonathan Pearce claimed that he had never seen such a thing in his career and asked: “I wonder what Chopper Harris and Billy Bonds would have made of this?” Considering that the humble hot water bottle hardly embodies the evils of modernity, football’s 70s hard men might actually feel quite nostalgic for its rubbery tepidness, but Pearce’s broader point that a professional athlete should at no point be anything other than visibly uncomfortable still has merit.
Never mind what Chopper Harris and Billy Bonds might have felt about hot water bottles: what about Winston Churchill, or the Krays, or Phil Mitchell, or all those other great British heroes? Our boys didn’t go over the top at the Somme so a 24-year-old striker from Belgium could keep himself warm on the sidelines during a game of association football. Our grandparents didn’t toil in coal mines, or labour in shipyards, or drudge themselves into an early grave so that future generations could be warm and happy. It is an insult to their memories for a professional footballer to be anything over than a shivering wreck suffering the agonies of frostbite, and anyone else who dares seek a modicum of physical comfort at a football match should be bloody ashamed of themselves too, the soft bastards.
The Snide Stuff
You’ve got to hand it to Jose Mourinho: there is nothing he cannot spin into some form of mind game. Asked about managers making political gestures in the context of Pep Guardiola’s recent decision to wear a yellow ribbon on match days – a symbol of protest against the imprisonment of Catalan nationalists – Mourinho said: “I think I wouldn’t be allowed to, that’s just what I think… I am not sure if the rules allow any political message on the pitch. That’s just my doubt.” It was something of a surprise when, at full time of Manchester City’s 2-1 win at Old Trafford, Guardiola didn’t tear off his cashmere jumper to reveal an Estelada jumpsuit before knee sliding into Mourinho’s technical area.
Over in the Merseyside derby, another manager was being similarly snarky, though this time it had nothing to do with the greatest European constitutional crisis in recent memory. Instead, Jurgen Klopp was riled up by his post-match interviewer suggesting that Everton’s equalising penalty was deserved, forcing him to bring out the masterful comeback: “Well, then we can stop the interview because I only want to talk to people who have a little bit of an understanding of football.” Is it possible that, having charmed us all with his mirthless laugh and extremely flamboyant goal celebrations, Klopp’s affable facade is slipping these days? Or maybe football managers are just snides by nature, whether griping over a contentious spot kick or solidarity with political prisoners in Spain.
The Joys of Phil Neville
To wrap things up, a word for Phil “Fizzer” Neville. Brother of the far more widely feted Gary “took Valencia to 14th in La Liga” Neville, Phil is an otherworldly soul and too pure for this cruel earth. So, after Sam Allardyce had inspired Everton to a plodding 1-1 draw against Liverpool in the Merseyside derby, the former Manchester United and Everton utility man tweeted: “Merseyside is blue well done Big Sam and the boys.”
Cue a massive amount of piss-taking from Liverpool fans and hundreds of replies to the tune of: “It was a draw ‘Fizzer’ you fucking dangervto [sic] society”; “Wot colours manc [sic] land you massive [bell emoji] end?” and “MeRsEySiDe iS bLuE” accompanied by the mocking SpongeBob meme. To make matters worse, Fizzer was publicly celebrating a draw which took Liverpool’s unbeaten run in the derby to 15 games, matching a previous record which dates back to 1978. Such innocence, such naivety: truly English football does not deserve you, Phil.
