A Tribute to Ron Manager



Saturday afternoon

"Manchester United, Blackburn Rovers, Wolverhampton Wanderers, Sheffield Wednesday, The Arsenal, isn't it? Tottenham Hotspur, Preston North End, Charlton Athletic, Crystal Palace, West Ham United, mm?

Reassuring names aren't they, when you're listening in some far flung corner of the globe to the World Service of a Saturday afternoon, crackly reception, interference, cosy, marvellous. Ooh, results! Four forty-five, Grandstand, isn't it. Highlights on Match of the Day, da da da da da da da da. Somehow comforting, isn't it you know. Legendary names... Tony Gubba!

Fathers and sons, on the terraces, cheesy peas at half-time, pint for Dad, Mum's at home making the tea. Aaah, everything's all right with the world, isn't it... Saturday afternoon is football, mm?"

PARTY

The whole world taking part, football's a big party, early exit for brave Scotland, it's my party and I'll cry if I want to. You'd cry too if it happened to you, hmm? Cruciate ligament wrenched, bones torn from the socket, out for the duration, bye bye Gascoigne, isn't it? Marvellous.

EGYPT

The Egyptian team isn't it? Looking strong this time, yashmaks for goalposts, ouch, mummy, I've trodden on a scorpion. Can you kiss it better? Rubbing the ball in camel dung, getting your mates to head it. What a smell, it Sphinx! Walk like an Egyptian, why not?

GERMANY

The Germans as ever with a chance. Efficient, clinical, well organised, strong ruthless, leather clad, blond, ow, ow, whip me again Hans. Make me beg for it. Enduring image isn't it? You know, the Hitler youth in the Reichvolkstadionpark. Lugers for goalposts, an easy first round victory over the Poles? Don't bet against it.

CARNIVAL

Hooray for Brazil. Bare-footed. Playing on the beach, marvellous support. Carnival, spectacular outfits, you know, gagging for it. Ronnie Biggs, great train robber, ouch, Mummy, he's coshed me, isn't it? What a rogue, a wag, he's sold his arsehole for punk apparently. Pele of course.

JAPAN

Let's not forget the Japanese. Inscrutable isn't it? Squad weakened by injury and hari kari. Defeat unthinkable. Mass suicide on the terraces. Samurai swords twisting and tearing. Banzai! Intestines and blood all over the pitch, players slipping and sliding. Enduring image isn' it? Players go into hiding, refuse to acknowledge the final whistle, emerging years later. A long way to go to match continental sophistication, hmm?

ARGENTINA

Argentina? Hot Latin blood coursing around those veins. Bags of cocaine for goalposts. Chop me one out mummy. That's better. Tricks and wiles. Passionate, volatile, jiggery pokery. Sink the Belgrano. The hand of God, or was it the hand of Bob? Bob Wilson, Scottish goalie, early flight home for the plucky losers yet again. Some things never change do they? Do they? I've no idea.

WALES

Wales, the Welsh, taffy, the taffs. Leek-chewing bungalow burning, rugger bugger taffs. Rank outsiders? Not really. You know, Giggsy. Giggsy wiggsy. My feet keep dancing. I love to love but Giggsy just wants to dance. Three in a bed, marvellous. Is Wales the new Brazil, or is Brazil the new Wales, hmm? Vinny Jones? Come off it boyo. Lagochynmerfingogochstyn? Marvellous.