Everton would like to issue a warm welcome to West Brom, famously nicknamed ‘Big Ron’s alibi’, for the first home round of the 2013/14 Premier League Tekken Tag Team Tournament.
After last week’s encouraging draw at Carrow Road, expectancy is pretty high for the Goodison curtain raiser – our sticky Spanish manager Roberto Martinez has even recorded a video, reminiscent of the Patrick Swayze infomercial on Donnie Darko, where he encourages the fans to turn up and be part of the unit, or something. Essentially, keep being nice to Victor Anichebe and don’t start screaming ‘what’s the point of signing these players?’ if we don’t introduce Gerard Deulofeu the very moment we concede a goal.
‘Hi, I’m Roberto Martinez, and you may recognise me from such games as the FA Cup final.’
It would appear that Marouane Fellaini and Leighton Baines will continue to feature in the Everton starting line-up despite continued speculation over their futures. Martinez has condemned quite strongly – for him – the way Manchester United are trying to do business, making reference to their new manager, chief executive and the fact that Bill Kenwright feels let down given the relationships involved. Whether that’s designed to get United to fuck the fuck off though or simply come back with a bigger back of ackers is anyone’s guess.
The wording of the piece in the Daily Mail about how Fellaini feels this is the right time for him to leave before his value rises at the World Cup had more than a whiff of the agent about it, especially the part about how he ‘feels he has given the club good service’. Presumably United want the pair to start ‘agitating’ for moves, and you can’t help but wonder whether the stories linking them to Southampton left-back Luke Shaw have been placed in the press to light a fire under Baines’ arse.
Talking of agents, Nicolas Anelka won’t feature on Saturday, or perhaps ever again, after West Brom reportedly gave him compassionate leave after his representative Eric Manasse passed away. ‘Overwork’ was not cited as the cause of death.
Speaking of well-travelled footballing sorts, the Albion have signed the definitive vapourware player Scott Sinclair on a season-long loan from Manchester City. The winger is still only relatively young but has amassed an inordinate amount of clubs already. Chelsea, City, the list goes on – he’s only an unhappy spell at West Ham and an England captain cuckolding away from being Wayne Bridge.
His career is just bizarre. He’s certainly a multi-millionaire, and there is always a frisson of excitement among the fans of clubs he is linked with, yet he is barely ever seen on the pitch. He’s like some odd post-modern footballing hoax – like one of those made up internet players who an unsuspecting (bone idle) journalist slips into a ‘rumours’ box-out. Even his name is an anagram of LIARS CONCOCT.
You didn’t really check that did you?
Or maybe he is the Premier League equivalent of one of those infamous Hollywood scripts that studios keep paying writers to have an option on but never seriously intend to make. Perhaps the winning goal he scores at Goodison now, after saying all this, will be his Watchmen moment.
Despite the absence of Anelka and his ‘I wouldn’t go in asking to buy fertiliser in bulk you know’ beard, this Albion are typical of the tough, organised sides that lurk in mid-table, happy to make mugs out of anyone who takes them lightly. They have some good players in the likes of James Morrison and Everton scourge Shane Long and a pretty shrewd manager in Steve Clarke. The former Chelsea fullback seems to know his stuff, but he is definitely going to struggle to be considered for bigger jobs simply because he has that Billy Davies look of a man who was just woken up by his ex-wife knocking on the window of his car in her dressing gown with a pitying look and a mug of tea.
‘Have you been here all night Steve? Look at the state of you. You can’t let the kids see you looking like this.’
He knows it’s undignified, but what’s he meant to do when he hears that his youngest is now calling another fella ‘Dad’?
And what sort of job is ‘Bikram yoga instructor’ anyway? The sunbed twat.