Tim Springett looks at Stuart Gray's sorry experience at Southampton and charges the club with mishandling both his appointment and his sacking

For the third campaign in a row, Southampton have un­dergone a mid-season change of manager. Six points from the first seven games of the season had the pressure building on Stuart Gray and, as Saints prepared to take on West Ham on October 20, it was a fair bet that the losing manager might find himself out of a job by the following Monday. The Hammers’ 2-0 victory earned Glenn Roeder a breathing space but Saints’ chairman Rupert Lowe duly wielded the axe.

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Stephen Wagg tries to make sense of Peter Taylor's departure from Leicester

I was glad, I have to admit, when Peter Taylor was made manager of Leicester City in the summer of 2000. He seemed a gentler soul than his predecessor, the fre­quently tetchy Martin O’Neill. He’d been a suc­cessful steward of the England Under-21 side and ap­parently everyone in the English football world attested to his ability as a coach.

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When Man Utd went to Turin and beat Juventus in the 1999 Champions League semi, you had to admire them. No really, you did. Well, Cris Freddi did anyway

In the last minute of the first leg at Old Trafford, Un­ited’s chances of reaching the European Cup final for the first time since 1968 seemed just about over. With Zinedine Zidane paralysing them in midfield, Juventus might have led by more than 1-0. Then an injury-time goal by Ryan Giggs snatched a draw, but still left an Alp to climb. History didn’t help. United hadn’t won any of their seven previous matches in Italy, losing all four in Turin – and Juve hadn’t lost at home to an Eng­lish club since Paul Vaessen’s unlikely winner for Ars­enal in 1980. After ten minutes Juventus led 2-0 and you could have named your own odds.

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For a season at Stoke City he could do almost anything, except pass to a team-mate. Mark Blakemore celebrates a talent before it was made to conform

Earlier this season, while enduring the sight of Exeter City thrashing helplessly about in the bottom division, I beheld something won­d­rous. The opposition’s left midfielder watched a high ball as it fell over his left shoulder, cushioned it out of the air with his instep, and brought it instantly to rest in front of him. Then he immediately placed an inch-perfect pass through the middle of Exeter’s defence, enabling a team-mate to run through and sky it hopelessly over the bar, which didn’t matter be­cause his team was already 4-0 up. It was comfortably the most beautiful thing I’d seen on a football pitch in four seasons of watching Third Div­ision football.

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Dear WSC
Whilst sleeping my way through the recent Varteks v Villa game, the aftermath of a rather nasty tackle by George Boateng reminded me fondly of the late Brian Moore. On seeing the verdict of the referee, Barry Davies announced with a resigned air that “the card is red” when, correct me please if I am wrong, it was quite obviously yellow. Either dear Barry is colour blind or he’s taking it upon himself to replicate the obvious inaccuracies that Brian was regularly capable of. Trouble is, I used to laugh at the old planetarium head, but just found myself shouting “That’s crap Barry, it’s yellow” at the screen in a really irritated manner. I suppose it livened up the worst game this millennium though.
Dave Wallace, via email

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