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Search: ' Robbie Rogers'

Stories

Hungerford Town 1 Didcot Town 2

Never mind the Champions League, here’s the Hellenic: the television claims that it’s showing live football – but 125 people in west Berkshire know better as Roger Titford witnesses

It is a dark, wet Tuesday. The leaves are coming down and the league tables are shaping up. It’s a big night at all levels. Manchester United and Arsenal are on ITV in the Champions League. My boys, Reading, are away in the Championship (on local radio) while the LDV parks itself into view. But my eye is caught again by the crude, A4, home-crafted poster on the town noticeboards; no hype or promises, just pure facts – Hungerford v Didcot, Hellenic League, KO 7.45pm.

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Glentoran 1 Shelbourne 0

A North v South all-Irish encounter offers a rare and welcome point of Champions League intrigue in Belfast writes Robbie Meredith, but the slicker, more professional visitors win the day

Nestled alongside the Belfast docks and airport, the Oval, home of Northern Irish champions Glentoran, immediately transports the visitor back into history. The antiquated Main Stand is 50 years old and seems to have changed little over the years, while both ends of the ground are bracketed by crumbling semi-circular concrete terraces, where supporters are hemmed in by high steel fencing. Sitting in the Main Stand, I’m confronted by the sight of Sampson and Goliath, two huge and distinctive shipyard cranes which offer a glimpse into Belfast’s fading maritime past. When UEFA and the G14 dreamt up the Champions League to bring even more cash and glamour to Europe’s elite clubs, part of their rationale was to ensure that grounds like the Oval, and teams like Glentoran, were weeded out of the competition long before the armchair millions tuned in to see Milan or Manchester United.

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Letters, WSC 220

Dear WSC
After reading Ian Plenderleith’s web review (WSC 219), I immediately logged onto www.standupsitdown.co.uk to add my support to a cause very close to my heart. Growing up on the Shelf at White Hart Lane, I eventually reached the age and height to leave my half milk crate at home and stand at the back and sing with the “Tottenham boys” I had idolised for so long. Then to my utter disgust the bastards made the last remaining terrace at the Lane all-seated. I am now one of the few season-ticket holders who stand in front of my seat where the Shelf once was and add my vocal support to the Park Lane’s efforts (still a lame substitute for jumping up and down on the terraces). But, not content with destroying a piece of my childhood, Spurs now seem intent on making me sit on my uncomfortable piece of Sky-sponsored blue plastic. Stewards are randomly throwing out the most vocal following because they won’t sit down. Health-and-safety jargon is boomed out of the jumbotron screens at half time, cheesily complemented by a James anthem telling Spurs fans to “all sit down”. Fans of other clubs from all over the country seem to be experiencing the same problem. As much as I love the “sit down stand up” campaign, we really don’t stand a chance against the advertising machines that once used be our clubs. I can’t see them forking out millions to change the seating areas back into safe terracing and then having to charge less for tickets.
Martin Gowers, via email

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Letters, WSC 189

Dear WSC
I occasionally wondered what had become of Gerry Harrison (WSC 188), with his penchant for bad grammar and getting players’ names wrong. In the late 1970s and early 1980s we in the Anglia region were often subjected to “Kenny Samson” of Arsenal and Manchester City’s “Ray Ransome”. His treatment of the assault by a dog at Colchester which effectively ended the career of Brentford goalkeeper Chic Brodie (“What a tackle!”) was ill-advised to say the least, and he annoyed my dad, an English teacher, on a weekly basis by his use of the grammatically incorrect “off of”, as in “that’s a corner off of Micky Mills” or “the winger bounces off of Dave Stringer”. With his unfashionable hairstyle (even by Seventies standards) and his improbable choice of apparel, he was a role model for some of the less gifted commentators, such as Roger Tames and Tony Gubba, who were later foisted upon ill-prepared viewers. Cambridge or Southend, whence Anglia games often came when Norwich and Ipswich had got fed up with Gerry, were more or less his mark although contractual obligations presumably meant that ITV had to take him to the World Cup in 1974, where he was limited to commentating on Chile versus Australia, or something similar, during the group stages. My fondest Gerry memory came in 1980, the week after Justin Fashanu announced himself to the football world with his staggering volley against Liverpool. (Gerry would never have aspired to the Beeb’s Barry Davies’s lucid reaction to that goal – “Woah! WOOAAHH!!”). The following Saturday Norwich were at home again, this time against Wolves, who were two up at half-time. It was Gerry’s job to obtain, as the second half started, the thoughts on the state of play of the then Canaries boss John Bond before Bond returned to the dugout. Unfortunately Wolves scored their third (in a 4-0 eventual victory) within about ten seconds of the restart, with Gerry indelicately blurting out something along the lines of: “Well, you’re really up against it now, John… John… John?” The elegantly-coiffured and besuited Bond (if anything the antithesis of Gerry) had, as they say, taken his leave.
Alun Thomas, via email

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No quality left-sided English players

Hamish McDougall exposes the myth that England lack decent southpaws, arguing that Kevin Keegan ignores the available options – to dire consequences

The word “quality” is an optional extra in this Myth’s wording, as some commentators have suggested that a whole generation of footballers use their left foot merely to stand on. The Times suggested just such a thing recently when championing the 3-5-2 system, insisting that playing wing-backs “negates the necessity to find two left-sided players”.

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