Wednesday 1 “You cannot coach a player to score from five yards,” says Arsène as Arsenal squander a sackload of chances in a 0‑0 draw with CSKA Moscow. Man Utd lose to a late Marcus Allback goal in Copenhagen. Celtic crash 3‑0 at Benfica. Former Portsmouth owner Milan Mandaric makes a bid for Leicester City.
Peter Kenyon and the spiders from Mars
BBC4 recently broadcast a series on the history of British science fiction, covering novels such as 1984 and Brave New World that presented dehumanised future societies. Had it been made a few months later, they might have been able to include a section on the dystopian hell recently conjured up by Peter Kenyon. In late November, talking of the forthcoming match with Man Utd, Chelsea’s chief executive offered a nightmarish vision of the near future.
Football's popularity soars as Pompey are only the second southern team to become Champions, Mike Ticher writes
The long-term significance
Never has football been more popular than in the third full season after the war. Or, to put it another way, never have people’s lives been so bereft of entertainment and escape that they gorged themselves even on the Third Division South. Clothes rationing ended in 1949, but half-time tea and sugar were still restricted until the 1950s, as were petrol and soap. Almost 18 million glamour-starved people watched First Division football (compared with nearly 13 million for the Premiership last season). But the most remarkable figures were in the third divisions, where the presence of Raich Carter and Tommy Lawton pushed average crowds above 30,000 at Hull and Notts County, respectively. Seven current League clubs drew their record crowd that season.
Dear WSC
The Scotland supporters who found themselves under attack by a group of Ukraine fans on the evening prior to the recent Euro 2008 qualifier in Kiev have been praised for not retaliating but dispersing in as orderly a way as possible to avoid any escalation of the incident. Some Scots weren’t that lucky, however, about a dozen requiring hospital treatment for cuts, bruises and broken bones after the unprovoked assault by around 100 young Ukrainians in the city’s Independence Square. During the last 15 years or so, the self-styled Tartan Army has become legendary the world over for its self-deprecating humour and ability to make friends even in the most hostile of environments, as well as for swelling the coffers of local bar owners while simultaneously emptying towns and cities of supplies of beer and spirits. But in the wake of the Kiev incident, a small number of Scotland fans started to question whether being the touchy-feely, super furry animals of world football may have its downside. Indeed, it provoked an almost philosophical debate amongst Scotland fans on the streets of Kiev and later on internet forums; what would you do if we were attacked? Most who took part in this impromptu debate quite rightly condemned all violence and pointed out that Scotland fans’ hard-won reputation was at risk by even raising the spectre of the Tartan Army fighting back. A small minority put forward the thesis that Scotland have become too nice and that this translates – both on and off the field – as a soft touch. This in turn could invite trouble from determined hooligans who would attack safe in the knowledge that the Scots were unlikely to fight back. It’s unlikely, however, that this isolated event – even more shocking because it was just that – will give rise to a surge of disorder among Scots fans. Our sense of humour is unique (I still almost die laughing every time I hear people from Scotland complaining about terrible food on away trips) and can usually be relied on to defuse the odd potentially incendiary moment.In any case, which member of the Tartan Army is seriously going to risk not being able to attend the next World Cup we qualify for? (In the words of BA Robertson’s 1982 Scotland World Cup song, I Have a Dream.)
Colin McPherson, via email
Ian Plenderleith enjoys mascots as much as the next man – as long as the next man isn't intent on practising his best costume-related moves in front of the mirror while concentrating on "the three Es"
There are a few cardinal rules for club mascots. They must be smiling, at all times. Their names must be alliterated or rhyming, like Donny the Dog or Scunny Bunny. And, in theory, they should have some sort of historical connection to the team they represent. A website that shows several dozen English club mascots on one page has, however, revealed the scandalous truth that most clubs are breaking at least one, if not all three, of these basic good-luck guidelines.