Dear WSC
I’m sure I’m not the only Wednesday fan disappointed that the recent takeover was unsuccessful. However, whatever the rights and wrongs, our initial disappointment was lessened when we found out that would-be buyer Paul Gregg was a leisure magnate rather than the purveyor of quality pastries to our high streets. I was quite looking forward to Leon Clarke puffing up and down our newly laid pitch with “Steak Bake” emblazoned across his ample midriff.
Paul Sullivan, Pontefract
Their country’s victory in the Asian Cup provided a respite from bad news for Iraqis everywhere, but, as Justin McCurry explains, a competition with four host nations left plenty of others unhappy
After Japan’s politically charged victory over China in Beijing three years ago, few expected this year’s Asian Cup to amount to much more than the beginning of a regional power struggle between the Japanese and the confederation’s newcomers, Australia. In the end it amounted to the continent’s answer to total football: decent matches played in searing heat, organisational cock-ups (perhaps unsurprising given that there were four host nations), managerial resignations, and that old friend of FIFA knock-out tournaments, the soporific stalemate otherwise known as the third-place play-off.
The mob of Premiership clubs off on a Far East beano this summer has received unprecedented coverage in the newspapers. As ever, nobody really knows what to make of this kind of thing. Understandably enough, football hacks pitched into an utterly alien environment can sometimes find themselves a little out of their depth. The tone is usually pitched somewhere between eye-boggling visions of the wealth to be reaped from this parallel universe of crazed, barely coherent football junkies; and sex tourist-lite fascination with the sheer, naked, excitable strangeness of it all.
Armchair fans have never been able to watch so many games – if they can afford them, understand which channel has what and get their hands on all the right equipment. John Willis explains what has changed for this season, why next year will be different and who the hell Setanta think they are
It used to be so simple. You tipped up at your local ground at five to three every other Saturday, and got rained on as your lot lost to some loathsome outfit, invariably wearing red. Followed by an evening of whatever took your fancy – but home in time for Match of the Day.
Do you have an idea how many key passes Darren Fletcher has had in the Champions League? Would you remember enough about Frank Lampard’s various performances against Barcelona to be able to take a guess at his total yardage? Good luck to you if you do, because we haven’t got a clue. And neither would anyone else 15 years ago. In the century of football that occurred in the pre-Sky age, supporters somehow managed to cope without knowing how much ground a certain player covered or whether he was statistically his team’s fifth-best decision-maker in the final third.