I Was a Teenage Man United Fan

This article first appeared in Issue 1 of Centre Circle Magazine. 

Living in a tiny village in central England isn’t the best place to be when it comes to choosing a football team. I’m from an area smack-bang in the middle of the Midlands: close to Leicester, close to Birmingham, close to Coventry. Yet I had no strong local influence for choosing my football team during my childhood.

Kids at my school were a microcosm for the wider phenomenon that is glory-hunting. Most were Man United fans, loved Liverpool, or knew Arsenal’s line-up off by heart. I’m pretty sure there was even a Leeds fan in the mix as well.

My dad supports Spurs despite living his whole life in the same Midlands village that I grew up in. As his father wasn’t that into football, the business of helping him decide on his football team fell to my dad’s grandad – a Spurs fan from Luton.

Dad tried his best to convince me and my brother that supporting Tottenham was the natural thing for us to do - there are pictures of us dressed in the home shirt circa ’95 which must have been a desperate last attempt to convince us they were a goer. It was around this time that I uttered the famous words that Dad is fond of bringing up whenever football allegiances are mentioned:

‘Dad… Do I have to be a Spurs fan?’

His dreams shattered, he could only answer with, ‘Of course not son. But just remember whoever you pick, you never change your football team.’

So along with most of the children between seven and eight in England at the time, I decided my footballing relationship would be with Manchester United, the best team in England. This sacred vow I had undertaken was to wed me to them, for better or worse (it was usually better), for the rest of my life. I thought I was ready for it.

***

I never went to see United. It didn’t really occur to me that if you were a fan you should want to. I had my replica kit, I watched them on telly, and I knew the names of the players; that was all I needed. I was gutted when they lost, and ecstatic when they won. I told myself I was a real fan.

My comfortable, little red world was about to be disrupted, however. In 2001, Dad, my brother and I took a trip to Highfield Road to see Coventry City play Arsenal. It was my first football match, and I was nine years old. I remember it being loud and cold. The pitch was unlike anything I had seen on TV: bright, crisp, and clear. Dennis Bergkamp scored a header. It was brilliant.

Over the next few years I went to see Coventry play a lot more. Cheap League Cup nights, first game of the season specials, and my uncle getting cheap tickets from work: it all conspired to get me down to Highfield Road, and later the Ricoh, to watch the Sky Blues.

I was enjoying supporting United – success followed success, and bragging rights were usually mine amongst my Liverpool and Arsenal supporting schoolmates. But my eyes began to wander when it came to checking the results at five p.m. If I hadn’t been watching Soccer Saturday or Final Score, I’d scroll past the Premier League scores on Ceefax and go straight to the Championship results. If United had lost, and Coventry had won, I’d feel great. If Coventry had lost, and United had won, I’d get that sinking feeling you get in your stomach after bad news. Surely that wasn’t meant to happen?

I was a United fan, but another team was contributing to my footballing happiness. A harmless flirtation was blossoming into something more solid, more real.

Dad’s words were playing on my mind during this time: ‘You never change your football team’.  So I continued going through the motions with United. It was a bond that had lost its spark, but I didn’t have the heart to end it. I carried on my illicit affair with Coventry. I bought their shirts, I went to watch them, and I always checked for their score first.

***

In August of 2010, my girlfriend at the time bought us tickets to go and see United at Old Trafford. I knew that this was make-or-break. United won 3-0 against a dismal West Ham side. It was fun, but it made up my mind. The first United match I saw live was my last as a ‘fan’.

I started university that September. Meeting and greeting all of these new people led to the inevitable question: ‘Who do you support?’

No prizes at this point for guessing which team I answered with.

Coventry dropped down into League One at the end of the 2011/2012 season. United just missed out on the Premier League title, finishing second. It was a bit of a contrast.

I was devastated when Coventry were relegated. It felt awful. However, I still knew I had done the right thing. Supporting a football team is a lot like a marriage – you go through your ups and downs, but you always want to try and make it work. Like supporting a football team, you don’t go into a marriage with anything less than good intentions. Sometimes though, you just weren’t right together in the first place. That’s what happened with my long-distance relationship with United. It took a team a lot closer to home to help me realise what being a fan was all about.

As for me and the Sky Blues, there are ups and downs (more downs than ups it has to be said), but I’m a hell of a lot happier as a local Coventry fan than I ever was as an absent United one.

If that isn’t an exception to change your football team, I don’t know what is.

The Mysterious Case of Sisu and the Sustainable Business Model

Everyone's favourite Coventry City owners were back in the news recently when a number of fans complained about the club's recent push for fans to buy season tickets. Chief Executive Steve Waggott released a statement on Tuesday through the club website in which he urged supporters to buy a season ticket: "We'd still like to bolster our forward line and the wide areas, and season ticket sales are imperative to get these deals over the line." It seems that these are the words that prompted much of the criticism, as many fans felt held to ransom over the comment. The line has basically been construed as 'if you don't buy a season ticket, you won't get your signings'.

Now obviously, the club have to make money from ticket sales; as with most teams, tickets are the prime source of income, and season tickets are a guaranteed source of funding for the upcoming campaign - you pay your fee up front, the club gets a handy cash injection and you get to watch the games. According to the club, they are 15% under their target, and having sold around 5000 already, the target must be around 6000 season tickets. Taking into account an average home attendance of 11000 has been set by the club as a benchmark to comply with the Financial Fair Play regulations, if the 6000 season ticket target was reached, 5000 more fans would still need to turn up for each game. We'll discount away fans for the moment, as their numbers tend to fluctuate due to a number of factors: distance to travel, importance of game, price, etc.

If everything I have been saying seems fairly obvious so far, bear with me: I think I'm going somewhere with it.

Looking at our average attendances since dropping down into League One, at the end of our first season in the third tier in 2013, we averaged 10997 (all statistics courtesy of www.european-football-statistics.co.uk). The second season was an anomaly but did nothing to help matters: as we toiled away at Sixfields Stadium in Northampton for a season we averaged a paltry 2348. For the year just gone the number stood at 9332. Considering we are about to enter our fourth season in League One, and only in our first season in the competition did we average anywhere close to 11000, this number does feel a little bit optimistic.

That said, you can never overlook the effect of a good season on attendances, and it seems like the average ticket target has been devised with this in mind. Should Mowbray and the boys get off to a flyer and avoid the desperate form and performances of last season, this should entice a few more fans to the gate. There is nothing like supporting a successful team after all. Before pre-season optimism was high for the coming campaign: we had an experienced manager in place, Reda Johnson had signed a new deal, Romain Vincelot had been bought (with money!) and our youngsters seemed ready and raring to show their mettle.

However, the weak showings from the team in pre-season probably haven't helped season ticket sales: at worst, you could say fans have become disillusioned with the team and the coming season from these few performances, but I think that does a disservice to our fans. The more likely reason is that many will probably want to see how the season starts to pan out and decide on their level of support from there; a season ticket takes a lot of commitment, and to watch a team that could perform as insipidly as Coventry did at points last season, and indeed at points in the last decade, a certain degree of masochism would be involved as well.

It is clear that the club has been injected with sums of money to keep it afloat during the Sisu tenure, or at least during the Financial Fair Play era. As the Coventry Telegraph pointed out recently, "The Football League rules do permit donations from owners of clubs, as long as there is no expected repayment to the donor. That means clubs can’t rely on large cash loans for their income. Injections of equity also count as turnover under the rules, which means a wealthy owner can fund the club in ways that are not permitted in other divisions." Although Waggott and the club have maintained that the club is and will be self-sufficient, it is hard to accept, naive to accept even, that it has been throughout the whole period of Sisu ownership. As mentioned before, it should be clear through this that Sisu have provided the club with money in times when there was not much to spare.

The problem is that it has always seemed to us fans that the amount we are afforded by our owners is the bare minimum to keep the club functioning. Unfortunately in modern football, success cannot be achieved through the bare minimum, especially for a club such as Coventry who have been stagnating for years. For clubs such as Southampton, Leicester, or even Leeds to a certain extent, a dramatic fall from the Premier League to the third tier was followed by a fairly quick promotion, meaning fans had less time to become jaded by the slow decline of the team and their position, unlike we at Coventry. This meant attendances for those teams stayed at a high level, meaning more money for investment that would not make too much of a hole in the owners' pockets.

All this leads to my main point and a subject that has been debated back and forth since Sisu took control of the club: how can Sisu be making any money from this? And for how long will they want to keep control of a club that has been a drain on their resources from day one, and will surely not prosper unless a certain degree of investment is introduced? If the plan was (as many suspected) to gain control of the Ricoh to make the club a more attractive proposition to potential buyers and make a profit on their acquisition, then that ship seems to have sailed. If the plan is now (I can think of no other option) to restore the club to a respectable position within the league system while being as sustainable as possible to increase interest amongst potential buyers, then again, I feel that ship may have gone the way of the first.

As mentioned earlier in relation to Southampton et al, the fact that these clubs bounced back so easily compared to us meant more money through more bums on seats. The hard truth of the matter is, that until Coventry fans have something to be excited about, our level of support is just not going to be what the club needs at this point in time. Imagine yourself in a relationship with a partner who constantly lets you down, promises to change, but keeps on in the same old cycle of disappointment and hurt. Your support of them would waver too, wouldn't it? That's not to say we won't get our hopes up when the time calls for it: just look at the 31000 who came to the Johnstone's Paint Trophy semi-final (who then were subsequently let down again).

What is needed, but what probably won't happen, is for Sisu to invest. Not just in anyone, but to use the experience of the manager and the eyes of the scouts to bring in some players who would really get people excited. Yes, it might be more of an outlay than they expected in the first place, but in fairness, so has their whole tenure as club custodians. It's all very well harping on about sustainability but if you can't even entice the fans who are part of your business model into the stadium in the first place then you should probably just give up on your job of coming up with business models.

Maybe I'm wrong, and maybe this season Mowbray will guide us to the playoffs or beyond with an exciting brand of football, all on a shoestring, ticket-sale led budget. Trust me, I would be glad to be wrong in that scenario. Over the moon, even. For some reason though, I just can't see it happening. What I can see is another season in which we see a lopsided squad under-performing and crying out for some financial backing.

At least we're consistent in that regard, I guess.

Time for Thomas to stand up and be counted

A lot can happen in a year. Just ask footballers. Angel Di Maria started last season as a World Cup star and the record British signing. Now it looks like he'll be off to Paris Saint Germain after failing to live up to his own hype at Manchester United. Harry Kane began as Tottenham's first choice striker amid raised eyebrows after a few indifferent seasons and kept himself there, scoring enough goals and impressing the right people to earn himself an England call-up and talk of a move to a footballing superpower.

For Conor Thomas, one of our more successful academy graduates, his year has been more Di Maria than Kane. As many will fondly remember, his role in the first half of that Jekyll and Hyde 2013-14 season helped to provide a platform that enabled the front-four of Moussa, Baker, Clarke, and Wilson to score more goals than we're ever likely to see from a Coventry team. Thomas and John Fleck, a partnership forged by necessity rather than choice that for a while ended up feeling rather serendipitous, were the perfect foils for each other in a central-midfield pairing that, when on form, was one of the more effective double-acts we've seen at Coventry in recent years. Thomas' tireless running and simple recycling of the ball was a lovely counterweight to Fleck's measured passes and intelligent touch. The cart-horse and the show-pony, each very different yet equally important in their own right.

Although the form of both dipped after Christmas - it could be argued the loss of Leon Clarke was a factor in this, as his ability to receive the ball into feet from midfield and hold it up was a key role in the system which no incoming striker could really replicate - the hope was that at only 20 years old Thomas would continue to improve and that the blip in form was a natural result of a young player struggling to match the consistency of a seasoned professional. Thomas played 49 matches in that topsy-turvy campaign, an incredible amount for such a young man and a figure which underlined his importance to the team during that time. The 2014-15 season would be an important step for the young midfielder, a chance for him to display he could be for one, the midfielder we have needed but have so rarely enjoyed, and secondly, the player that he has threatened to become but hasn't quite metamorphosed into: one that grabs a game by the balls and exerts his influence on it, rather than letting the match pass him by.

For a number of reasons, we were to see less of Thomas last term than in 2013-14. He made only 19 appearances last season, as former boss Steven Pressley seemed to prefer Jim O'Brien as the high-energy presence in the middle of the park to partner John Fleck. Even Adam Barton, who had failed to impress Pressley but found some success with current boss Tony Mowbray halfway through the season, ended up making more appearances than Thomas. The former-mainstay missed chunks of the season due to injuries and poor form and failed to build momentum within the first-team. He finished the season playing with the under-21s.

At the start of pre-season it was encouraging to hear from Tony Mowbray in an interview with the Coventry Telegraph that Thomas had been impressing in training and was putting forward a case for a return to the first-team. Mowbray remarked that, "In pre-season this year he’s giving me, not a headache, but something to think about because he’s looked powerful, strong and fast. With total respect to him, he’s showing me more than I saw at the end of last season so he’s come back really hungry to force his way into the team which is a real bonus for us."

Yet for all this positivity from the manager, pre-season has seen Thomas play less than one half of football against Nuneaton Town; he started the second-half but came off after a clash of heads which left him concussed in the 78th minute. Mowbray had said he expected Thomas to be out for at least a week but the young midfielder hasn't made any further appearances in the lacklustre pre-season matches, which may well hamper him when it comes to the season proper. The lack of depth in the City squad has been exposed by the recent friendlies, and all over the pitch (except, possibly, in defence) we look short of quality. There was a time during that dreamland of the first-half of the 2013-14 season where we would look at Thomas and think that the midfield would be in safe-hands if he was on the pitch. Now with Fleck, Romain Vincelot, and O'Brien ahead of him in the pecking order, he will need to take his chances and prove he is worthy of a place in this team. We shouldn't write him off yet of course, but this will be a telling season and determine whether the the local lad has a future at this club.

After last year's disappointing season, I would love Thomas to force his way into Mowbray's thinking for the year. New signing Vincelot seems to have the nod from the manager on starting with John Fleck in that all-action, central-midfield hard-man role, but Thomas is no fool; as a professional footballer he will know any loss of form or injury for the new man will mean an opportunity to force his way into the team. Thomas has always seemed like a player and personality who will always work hard, and his natural fitness levels are impressive. Concerns remain about his passing ability and propensity to earn silly bookings, usually after a particularly heavy first touch has forced him into a rash challenge (the 2013-14 away match against Crewe remains in the mind - his touch, passing, and tackling were all over the place that day and I actually doubt whether he made a single effective contribution to the game) but at 21 years old, he has plenty of time to mature into a more effective, clever, and dominating player. Maturity tends to have a calming effect on central midfielders, and if it means his body will start to look on the same wavelength as his brain during crucial moments, he will be all the more useful for it. Whether he can add that sangfroid to his game before Tony Mowbray loses faith in him remains to be seen.

As an academy graduate and local boy, of course most fans will want to see Thomas improve and fulfill that early promise which nearly materialised in a move to Liverpool as a teenager. For his footballing career, and our team, I desperately hope at the end of this year we are again remarking on how, in football, a lot can happen in a year: and how Conor Thomas' year has looked less like Di Maria's, and more like Kane's.

And the Smell Gets Stronger...

If you can smell fire, brimstone, and burning souls, you're not alone. The annual Coventry City relegation bonanza just became real: we're in the bottom four. The trapdoor to the underworld of League Two is looking perilously shaky beneath us, and we look like we don't have the strength to pull us clear of the danger. 

It has been a strange season. For me, I've been watching from afar, catching up on most results in the very early morning, with the bad news coming all at once via match report bylines: 'Coventry throw away two goal lead', 'Sky Blues crash to loss after three goals in twenty minutes'. The list goes on, and I'm sure we've all read too many of them to linger. 

Each press release and soundbite from the dressing room sounds as if everything is all hunky-dory; 'the team is ready to pull together', 'we just need to see out games properly'. Again, the list goes on, a veritable children's spin-and-talk toy of bullshit. Spin once and hear the cow 'moo', kids. Spin again and hear the manager say 'fantastic performance'.

Which brings us on to the man in the hotseat. Oh, Steven, what has become of ye? Each Telegraph match-preview I see reveals a picture of you deteriorating before my very eyes. Each week a little older, each game a little jowlier, each defeat a lot greyer. The aging picture, just as Wilde described it. You say you've dealt with every challenge that has been thrown at you, which we can't deny. You've never once hinted you'll walk away from the job, which we appreciate. But bravery and nobility will only get you so far in life. You're bleeding from the holes in your apres-match stories, while your faithful charges are running headless on the battlefield.

Our team is an ancient, rusting vehicle at the moment. We fix the brakes, the tire goes flat. We change the tire, and the cambelt goes. Replace the cambelt and the suspension fails. Repair the suspension... You get the drift. Defence is solid, we have no creativity. We find some creativity, we can't score. We score, the defence falls apart. No wonder the mechanic wears the look of bewilderment on his face after each run.

So relegation looms large, and everyone looks powerless to stop it. The manager, the players, the owners, the fans. What numbers of long-suffering Sky Blues will League Two performances draw? Even lower than low? Is it possible to drop into minus-fans? 

Silver linings? We've had to find a lot of those over the years. Can we hope that this poor form will force Sisu to relinquish their death-grip and allow us to stagger away to find a caring, nurturing hand to guide us back to health? Maybe. Should the drop to League Two occur, their record would make dismal reading: no trophies, no top-six finishes, and two relegations. But of course that's not what they care about. I forget who muttered a classic line once: 'I wouldn't care if we drew every game, as long as we won the league.' Sisu wouldn't care how many games we lost, as long as they made a profit. 

We will soldier on, moaning and raging, fighting and shouting against the decay, for we are Coventry fans. It's all we know how to do. And one day, when true success cocks it's beautiful head at us and beckons us near, and we feel the sweet embrace of winning again, we will appreciate it that much more. God knows we have gone to hell and back in search of it.

Brazilian State Championships: hope for the future?

The fourth round of beers was called for. As it tends to do in Brazil, talk inevitably filtered back to football. The past two days had seen lashings of rain pour down in Rio, as if the statue of Christ himself was weeping over the city, distraught at the humiliation of the country's 7-1 mauling by Germany.

In the small corner lanchonette where we drank however, the mood was less maudlin. Our friend Weberson, a carioca whom we had met through acquaintances in Sao Paulo, was our guide for the evening and we were to head into the party district, Lapa, for a Friday night of Brazilian partying.

We asked Weberson whether he thought Brazil would beat Holland in the next day's third/fourth place playoff. 'Honestly man, I don't care. I just don't want another humiliation like Germany. If we win, I'm happy, if we lose by one or two, I'm okay. Just not another seven!'

A little tongue-in-cheek perhaps, but the answer was revealing. The overriding sense in Brazil was that this game doesn't really matter. In fact, if anything, it just gave Brazil, the most successful nation in international football, a further chance for humiliation in a tournament wherein they have just suffered their most brutal chastening. But how did it come to this? How did a nation with such a rich tradition of producing aesthetic, successful footballers end up leaving its fans in fear of humiliation?

Brazil aren't in a crisis yet. They reached the semi-final of a World Cup. A semi-final of a tournament they were expected to win (a prediction that looked painfully optimistic in reflection), but they reached it nonetheless, which is more than most teams can say. Yet they are close to a precipice: the squad is talented, of course, but true world-class players are proving difficult to find and becoming harder to produce within their country. Think a samba-flavoured, yellow-tinged England, with more success. Only Neymar and Thiago Silva out of the current generation can truly be named among the best in the world in their position, a strange idea when you cast your mind back to team after team which oozed class in the 20th century and into the beginning of this one. 1958, 1970, 1982, 1994, 2002... 2014. Something isn't quite right.

Like England, it can be argued that the reason for this lies in the national league system. The Brazilian league system is a confusing one: from May to December, the Campeonato Brasileiro takes place, the nation's flagship competition. From January to March (or even April in some cases) most teams play in nationwide State Championships. These competitions arose in the early part of the 20th century: travel between other states and cities was difficult due to the vast distances involved so the regional championships thrived instead. As time has gone on however, these championships have not been phased out but instead kept and played in conjunction with the national league system, meaning players have at most two months away from playing, if that. This can mean that players can play upwards of 60 or 70 games each season, leading to burnout and increased susceptibility to injuries. On a minor note, as the championships showcase local teams against each other, Serie A teams will pit their wits against Serie D teams, and sometimes even non-league teams, exposing a dearth of match quality.

I asked Weberson what he thought about the State Championships and whether they held any value. 'For me, no. They are bad for the big teams. The players get no rest.' And for the small teams? 'Better maybe, but still they are long for them too.'

My friend put it to him that they could be used as a youth or reserve competition for the bigger teams, enabling big clubs to give their youngsters a chance to play and the lower-division teams warm up games for their own season. 'Maybe, yeah. There should be something done about them for sure, but I don't know what.'

The idea of using the championships as a way to blood youngsters is a practice that has always been engaged with in Brazil, but making them exclusively a youth or reserve competition for bigger sides is an interesting idea. Regular competitive football would be a massive boost for the development of the players, and in time, the national team may be able to reap the rewards. The problem may arise when the older generation complain that the historical integrity of the competitions would be compromised, as they have done in the past when talk of jettisoning the competitions altogether has been mentioned, yet surely as time goes on younger fans will not feel as strongly about the issue.

Obviously, changing the format of the State Championships is not the only solution to Brazil's current problems, nor is it a surefire way to improve the fortunes of the national team. Clubs selling their brightest young talents abroad for large sums of money hasn't helped, and has definitely impacted on the progression of several players in recent years. Yet, the competitions remain an untapped source of potential, a way to improve the quality of young players that is already in place, and right in the eyeline of the football federation.

Brazil stands at a crossroads in regards to its football. The inquest into the sport in the country will be made, as it always is when a favourite nation turns in an underwhelming performance at an international tournament. Whether they will turn their attentions to the State Championships to aid them in their quest for improvement or abolish them instead is a question that remains to be answered. Maybe they will ignore them altogether. That would be a huge shame, as they could do a great deal to aid the country in getting back on track to producing the wonderful, exciting footballers of old. As Weberson said, something must be done about them. We just don't know what.

The game away from the game

While most of the world watched Ecuador vs Switzerland and continued their imbibing of World Cup action, the fourth day of the tournament coincided with a relaxed afternoon in Brazil. Many shops and restaurants were closed as the country entered a dozy state of Sunday bliss before the weekly buzz began again on Monday.

Sao Paulo, where my friend Adam and I are for the next week whilst out in Brazil for the Cup, was no different. We resolved to find something to do and jumped on the Metro in search of something to relieve the sleepy atmosphere that had engulfed our hostel. The first few days of staying in Sao Paulo had been a whir of Metro lines and bus terminals, all efficient as a Swiss clock despite what the media would have you believe. We picked our stop - Jardin Ayrton Senna - purely for the promise of seeing a memorial to one of Brazil's favourite sons.

Upon arrival however, nothing indicated that we were in an area which contained such a treasure. Our surroundings were as quiet as the hostel we left, and much more rural and isolated. We followed the map and found the park. Still nothing.

A trip wasted. The R$3 Metro fare didn't bother us - an expense that cost less than £1 - but more the fact we had chased an idea only to find nothing at the end.

The feeling lasted until we heard shouts coming from the park. A football match was taking place. The pitch was a rich terracotta canvas of dirt, with four irregular quadrilaterals of grass in each corner. That raised a wry laugh: the Brazilians obviously don't like wing-play as much as the English. We stayed to watch for 20 minutes, surprised to find that the overall standard was akin to a decent standard Sunday league game. There were shanked passes, nervous clearances, and overly speculative long balls. The only difference was probably a marginally better first touch on their part.

Just before half-time, the two strikers from the blue team combined beautifully to score. A ball over the top of the midfield was chested over an onrushing defender by the number 9, into the path of his more nimble partner, number 10. The receiver raced past the last defender and curled a perfectly weighted shot past the goalkeeper and into the top corner of the threadbare net.

The whistle went and we left to continue our journey around the park. More shouts and cheers led us to investigate behind a clutch of trees, where we found a group of 25 or so children playing futsal in a cage; their ages ranging from six to 16. To begin with it looked as if the younger children were not allowed to play; they sat quietly by the side of the pitch, eyes feverishly following the ball over the concrete, feet mimicking the movements of the older ones.

But two goals from one team later and they were the next team to enter the fray and grace the cage. Skilful despite their younger years, what they lacked in strength they made up for with boundless energy. Having made the score 1-1 against the run of play to great celebrations, they were sent back to the sidelines after the star player from the older team darted through them from the back, his feet outfoxing their developing motor skills, before finishing into the bottom corner. They were gone, but not without showing promise: high-fives and claps on the shoulder were their reward for doing well.

The standard of skill from all in the cage was mesmerising: even the two heftier boys and the only girl on show were dazzling. Rabonas, pannas, elasticos rolling as effortlessly from their feet as they do from the tongue.

We left, smiling and uplifted. It was clear we had seen a glimpse of the beating heart of Brazilian football. While much of the country had shut down for the day, the football carried on, far away from the multi-billion pound Fifa extravaganza in the centre of the city. 11-a-side games, fame and stardom may be the aim for these Neymars-in-potentia, but for that Sunday, there was only the cage, and the glory that lay within it.

Potential Christie MLS move begs serious agent questions

The news that Coventry City full-back Cyrus Christie may be on the move to a Major League Soccer (MLS) team in North America has raised a few eyebrows, not least amongst the Sky Blue fans and the team manager, Steven Pressley.

When the news broke a couple of weeks ago that the States could be a potential destination for the Coventry Academy graduate, it seemed a tad far-fetched and a perfect example of the rumours that can arise during the 'silly-season' of the summer transfer window. But with the names of three clubs that are supposedly interested in Christie being revealed in the Coventry Telegraph yesterday - Toronto FC, DC United, and New York Red Bulls - it seems that this is one bit of hearsay that may have its beginnings in truth rather than guesswork.

Everyone connected with Coventry and Christie was well aware as far back as September that this would be the defender's last year at the club, barring a quite sensational change of heart. Out of contract this summer, and in the form of his life up until Christmas, it was widely accepted that Christie would be off to ply his trade in pastures new come the start of the 2014/2015 season. But from slightly over-hyped speculation that Spurs were monitoring him, to Huddersfield and Bolton emerging as interested parties in the early part of the year, this fairly solid link between the player and the MLS is a slightly bizarre twist in an otherwise familiar and well-trodden path for Coventry.

The club's financial situation means that we can rarely, if ever, be in a position where we can keep players who hit form or who have the potential to thrive at a higher level. We expect every player who impresses and gains column inches in the national press to be prised from our tired and weary fingers, often for less than we expected, and sometimes for free. The result is that we are always either replacing from within our own academy, an institution which is thankfully turning out some very adept youngsters, or taking a chance on out-of-contract journeymen.

Yet, the most problematic aspect of  the Christie conundrum is not to do with the player himself, or the club, but rather an element of football which is oft criticised: the agent. It seems that Christie's agent has been the orchestrator of a standoff where neither party looks, for the moment at least, to come out of this any better off.

It is not a massive stretch of the imagination to conclude that Christie's agent probably advised him that running down his contract was the best course of action for his career. With no transfer fee to be paid and only the small matter of compensation to be awarded to Coventry for investing so much in his footballing education, the idea must have been that higher-placed clubs would be clambering over themselves to sign him. So far this has not happened, and the only words we hear through the footballing grapevine are the whispers that he may be off to try his luck in the United States.

Christie is a young man, and a talented footballer as well. He has put in a decent amount of service with the club, and not many fans would begrudge him the chance to go and further his career elsewhere. As it happens though, the MLS doesn't really represent a forward move for a young footballer trying to further his career; if anything, it's a sideways/backwards one. Sure, the individual quality may be higher than League One thanks to your Thierry Henrys and your Robbie Keanes lighting up the place in the twilight of their careers, but as a place to enhance your reputation, it just does not cut the mustard.

The thought still remains that if Christie was to have signed a new contract this year, like mercurial teammate Callum Wilson, he would not be in this position. If no bids came in from outside parties, he would still be able to ply his trade with his boyhood club at a respectable level, whereas if interest was high, the club would have been able to recoup a substantial fee for him and the defender could make the step-up that he desires.

Alas, as with so many young, talented players these days it seems the murmurings of his agent and promises of grandeur have forced him into a corner where the MLS is the most promising option that remains to him, at least from the outside looking in. However, at the time of writing, the transfer window is still a month away from opening, and speculation is sure to increase with regards to where Christie will be playing next season.

The hope is that this gutsy play by his agent won't prove to be a mistake. It would be a tremendous shame should the club and Christie come out of this worse off. For Coventry, that would mean losing a prodigious academy talent for significantly less compensation than they were expecting if he moved to the MLS, whereas for Christie, it would be moving to a league and country where the chances for career betterment would be severely limited.

Manager Steven Pressley probably put it best in his interview with the Coventry Telegraph: "I think his current agent has got a number of things he needs to answer to. Over the course of the last year I think Cyrus has been badly advised and if he’s faced with this type of scenario then I feel its been down to bad advice, I really do." 

As mentioned before it is still early days, but if this scenario ends with Christie in America, then Pressley is right: his agent has a lot to answer for.

Wilson, Lallana, and a little bit of hope

Saturday, 8th May 2010. Into stoppage time at St. Mary's stadium, Southampton. Adam Lallana races onto a through ball, with just the goalkeeper to beat. He slots the ball home, effortlessly comfortable throughout, for his 20th goal of the season. Southampton have just gone 3-1 up against Southend on the final day of the season. But they will not be promoted to the Championship this year. Lallana is 21 years old, to turn 22 in two days.

Fast-forward to 28th April 2012. Lallana connects with fellow Englishman Rickie Lambert's knockdown at the far post to finish past goalkeeper Joe Murphy for his 13th goal of the season. Southampton have just gone 4-0 up against Coventry City on the final day of the season. They will be promoted to the Premiershup this year.

Lallana is a special case. He has been with Southampton since he was a child. He played his first game for them when he was 18, and suffered the relegation to League One in the 2008-2009 season. But he stuck with the club, earning promotion to the Premier League with the Saints, playing 227 times and becoming their captain in the process.

In a meteoric rise, Lallana even earned his first England cap in a 2-0 defeat to Chile in November 2013, with public calls for him to be a starter for the World Cup 2014 team getting louder by the day . And so they should be. He is a special talent.

Sunday, 16th March 2014. Into stoppage time at Sixfields stadium, Northampton. Callum Wilson gathers the ball on the left-flank, shrugs off two defenders and makes his way into the box. He jinks past the remaining players trying to steal the ball from him, and shapes to shoot. Inevitably, he finishes past the keeper, effortlessly comfortable throughout, for his 19th goal of the season. Coventry have just drawn 2-2 with Port Vale. It is only March, but they know they will not be promoted to the Championship this year. Wilson is 22 years old.

Like Lallana, Wilson has come to prominence in England's third-tier. Similarly to the Southampton man, Wilson was not a wonder-kid; he didn't burst onto the scene as a 16 year old, promising much with precocious talent. He paid his dues on loan, and there was a time when it seemed he might not make it at Coventry before he surprised many with his goal-scoring exploits and all-round play this season.

Perhaps most importantly of all to Sky Blues fans, like Lallana is for Saints, Wilson is a local boy. Born in Coventry, he made his professional debut aged 17 and has been with the club ever since. Rave reviews and a penchant for scoring have alerted the vultures of the Championship and beyond, all eager to feed off of the starving, dehydrated traveller that is Coventry, lost in the desert of Northampton.

The 2013-2014 campaign has given us little to smile about, but Wilson's emergence and at-present commitment to the cause has been a blessing, and his goals have given many fans hope. In times of great drought this season, Wilson has been a well of goals, the water of the game. It is easy to die stranded in the desert, but when you have water, then there is always a chance of survival.

The fear is that after this season, Wilson and other key performers will be unceremoniously torn from our tired fingers. Football's eternal Catch-22: you need your players to perform to stay clear of relegation. But to perform, they run the risk of being bought by other clubs, meaning they can't perform for you any more. He signed a new contract earlier this season, but Coventry fans have long known to be wary about 'contracts'.

Wilson is the same age as Adam Lallana was on that day in May 2010, against Southend. The similarities between the two are plain at present. What is less clear is whether we will be able to draw more parallels in the future.

Fast-forward to May 2017. Into stoppage time at the Ricoh Arena, Coventry. Callum Wilson is sent through on goal, his speed leaving defenders in his wake. He finishes into the bottom left corner, effortlessly comfortable throughout, for his 30th goal of the season. Coventry City will be promoted to the Premiership this year. Wilson is 25 years old. He has been with Coventry for the whole of his career to date.

New Year, New Question

It's a new year, and with a new year comes hope that this one will be different. That resolutions might be kept; that I will better myself as a person; and that I will learn from previous mistakes.

To be honest, I couldn't give a monkey's about all that this year. The one thing I really, really hope for this year is that Coventry City return to the Ricoh Arena.

Does it look likely? Not at all.

After the heads of the two warring parties (Ann Lucas of Coventry City Council and Joy Seppala of Sisu/Otium) involved in this sorry saga refused to cooperate late last year over a possible sale of the stadium or rental agreement which would allow the Sky Blues to return to their rightful home, there has been no activity of note to give fans any optimism that we will be out of Northampton soon.

When the draw for the fourth round of the FA Cup was made on Sunday afternoon, I found myself rather thankful that we had been drawn away to face Arsenal at the Emirates; fans would undoubtedly turn up to support the team at one of the best English stadiums, and we would probably be able to take more fans to London than could actually fit into Sixfields.

Waking up this morning though, and thinking over the possible permutations of us being drawn at 'home', I found myself wondering whether facing a big team at Sixfields would have prompted at least a discussion of a return to the Ricoh.

The issue was raised in a way by the Coventry Telegraph Live (@CovTelLive) Twitter page, who asked:

If #SkyBlues draw massive Prem club in 4th round and IF it's played at the #Ricoh, which of the Sixfields stay-away fans would go? #pusb
— Telegraph Live (@CovTelLive) January 4, 2014

If Coventry had drawn Arsenal (or Chelsea, or Liverpool etc) at home, would Sisu have attempted to engage in discussions to take the club back to the Ricoh for that one match? And could those discussions have paved the way for a return: permanently, or if only until the 'new stadium' we have been promised materialised years down the road?

As depressing as it can be to look down these alternate-reality paths, it is a point worth considering. Taking into account that we are subject for up to (God forbid) five years in Northampton, we could have a few more of these situations arise in the future.

Personally, given the fact that Sisu have previous with cutting off their nose to spite their face, I wouldn't bank on them ever entering rental deal discussions without a sale of the Ricoh included. There are without doubt more qualified people than me who could look at the financial and business side of this and come to a more reasoned conclusion as to why they may or may not have looked at utilising the Ricoh for one big match.

Who knows, in some parallel-universe, Coventry might already be back at the Ricoh and in the play-off places, with Sisu ready to relinquish hold of the club and sell to a more benevolent benefactor.

Or not. Happy New Year, fellow Sky Blues. Let's hope this one gives us more to cheer about than last!

Does promotion represent Blue Sky thinking or a Sky Blue problem for Coventry?

It's a bit confusing being a Coventry City fan at the moment. On the one hand, the team and manager are putting together some truly amazing results and playing the sort of football that we've rarely been accustomed to since I can remember.

On the other, the team are still playing 35 miles outside of Coventry with little support, some fans are choosing to fight each other in vicious bouts of catcalling and abuse in forums (and on TV), and there is still no way of knowing whether we will be building a new stadium or returning to the old one.

It may be tempting to try and detach these two schools of thought from one another. If the team is playing well and winning games, it becomes natural to use that as a mental escape from the financial and political quagmire the club has found itself flailing around in. If Steven Pressley has achieved these results whilst playing quality football and having to play at Sixfields then that must be some consolation for our predicament, and maybe it shouldn't be sullied by linking the good with the bad, and even the downright ugly.

Given our good start to the season, I was of this opinion. Keep the footballing side of the Sky Blue roller-coaster on one side, while the Sisu/ACL/council debacle can sit firmly on the other side. Any other way of looking at it would be to complete the self-fulfilling prophecy of being a pessimistic Coventry City fan, and our new footballing-dawn should deserve better than that.

However, given our good start to the season this view becomes a little complicated.

We need to talk about promotion. What a glorious feeling it is, especially given the 10-point deduction, to be sitting in 11th place, three points from the play-offs and with the best form in the league. While it is a somewhat rub-your-eyes-and-blink-a-few-times feeling, it also begs the question: what happens if we do earn promotion?

Let's start with the facts. As things stand, regardless of any talks between Joy Seppala and Ann Lucas, we are at Sixfields until a new stadium is built in the Coventry area for the club to return to, or we return to the Ricoh. The two have been reported to have been engaged in talks over a freehold sale of the stadium by the ever-reliable Coventry Telegraph, but these are early days and nothing remains bought or sold yet.

So unless the talks are successful and the team return to the Ricoh, that means a stay of up to five years in Northampton until a new stadium is built by which time, if current form is anything to go by, we may well have been promoted.

And if we are still playing at Sixfields, I can foresee a few problems with the idea of promotion.

For a recent Championship club, the smallest stadium has been that of Scunthorpe United (Glanford Park) which has a capacity of 9,088. Their average attendance for that final year in the Championship was 5,547. Coventry's average for this year so far at Sixfields is 2,239. Even with a return to the Championship, it is hard to see crowds increasing at Sixfields due to either an unaffordable match-day experience, or continued staunch stances on watching the team at a stadium they shouldn't be playing in.

Watched on by their average of 5,547 fans, Scunthorpe were relegated after two seasons in the second tier of English football in 2011. With such low incoming revenues, challenging the elite of the Championship, especially those who were living in another realm of financial capability due to ongoing parachute-payments from the Premier League must have been nigh-on impossible for two seasons, let alone if they were trying to establish themselves as a steady, second-tier club for a number of campaigns.

As well as poorer crowds than Scunthorpe were accustomed to, the Sky Blues have to deal with losing money due to renting Sixfields from Northampton Town. With no income visible to the naked eye, the thought of improving the squad or offering better contracts seems implausible.

The point remains that if Coventry are to stay at Sixfields for the remainder of the three-five years, would promotion be a hindrance rather than a advantage? With limited revenue from many fans whom I am sure would stay away due to their strong beliefs on the matter, and the players (and manager) on show in a bigger shop window, there is every chance that promotion may just mean another relegation, but this time with more key players being lost and a talented manager being tempted away.

That is not to say this would not happen if we were back at the Ricoh. It would however mean we would be better equipped to deal with the new realities of an increasingly stronger second-tier, financially and support-wise. Regardless of your thoughts on Sisu and their attempted occupation of the Ricoh, the fact is that the club, team, and supporters would be better off if the company owned the stadium. If that means they choose to sell on the club with the stadium to interested bidders, or continue running the club with the valuable match-day revenues minus the extortionate rent payments that were expected  by ACL and the council, so be it. It may not be an ideal situation given their history, but it is the most attractive looking option for the club at the present time.

I am no Sisu apologist. Nor am I an ACL/council one. It doesn't take a genius to work out that if (and it is an 'if', with more than half the season to go) Coventry get promoted, we would need to be back in the Ricoh.

So fingers crossed that talks between Lucas and Seppala go well. Because the result might just mean that we Coventry fans can start to reconcile the business and the footballing side of supporting our club.

Football Manager 2014: The (Coventry) Review

So it happened.

After saying to myself I wouldn't buy the new Football Manager and would instead ask for it as a Christmas present to save money...

I went and bought the t'ing. A quick peruse of the Steam store to see when it was actually out revealed the Beta version was available and ready to purchase. Two minutes later it was in my library waiting to download. Ye tempting mistress, ye.

Seeing as I have been playing the game for about a week now and my gameplay stands at 11 hours, I thought I'd share some of my thoughts so far.

Of course, I started my season as the mighty Coventry City. With Sunday League experience set (I like to make-believe in the game-world that I won a fan competition to manage the club, a Doncaster-esque stunt that couldn't possibly go wrong), for extra realism, I set about trying to reverse the fortunes of the once-glorious Sky Blues.

The first thing I was struck by was the fact that instead of a club chairman speaking down to me from his perch, I was being contacted by... an administrator! Not having purchased FM 2013, I was unsure of whether this was a new feature. Nonetheless, it was a welcome bit of realism that helps to immerse yourself even deeper in the fabric of your faux-footballing dreamland.

The less-fantastic-bit-of-realism I had to contend with was the fact that the club and I were starting on -10 points. I don't know why I was so surprised to see art imitating life but again, I have never been put in this situation by FM before, so the experience was novel (if a pain in the arse).

With the administrator dictating my transfer market dealings, it's fair to say the 'ins' list was pretty slim. In fact, until the last week of the transfer window, I had made zero signings. There was no excess wage budget, and in fact, I was told to decrease the wage budget by £10,000. Which, er, might not have happened yet. I'm working on it Mr. Administrator, I promise.

Three young Premier League apprentices came in on loan during the last week of the window for cover, with their wages being paid for by their parent club (obviously).

And then the unthinkable happened. The club's best player and most handsome prospect, Cyrus Christie, was sold without my permission.

I say this like I had a choice; every bit of transfer news comes to me with the line 'Due to the club's financial situation, all offers are being considered by administrators.' So off Cyrus went, for a paltry £400,000. To Bournemouth.

Fucking... Bournemouth? Livid. He didn't so much as give me a backward glance, citing the breakdown of our relationship because I refused to let him speak to Leicester. I do have some principles.

More disaster arrived in the form of the first choice 'keeper, Joe Murphy. He tried to hand in a transfer request but I rejected it. He then refused to speak to me anymore. So in goal went young Lee Burge, and to be honest I feared for the young lad. Was it too soon? How would he cope with the pressure of League One? In a tightly fought 1-0 loss, he got man of the match. I had found a new number one! Murphy could leave for all I cared, off the wage bill and we'd recoup some money.

But nothing in FM is ever that easy. No-one wanted him. Bournemouth (bloody... Bournemouth?!) had an offer accepted, but Murphy refused to play ball. He wanted a better basic salary. So now I have a depressed substitute goalkeeper on the bench.

So the man-management could use a little work, but I have been improving. When Conor Thomas came to me with concerns about the club's financial situation, I told him it's all okay; as long as we get behind the club we can help to make a difference. He seemed happy to hear that, and was remarkably unconcerned by my sweating, crossed-fingers and desk strewn with receipts.

But enough of my problems. How does the game actually play?

It has been a steep learning curve so far. Getting to grips with the new positions available to set the players as has been a trial and error affair as well. Do I play Franck Moussa as an enganche (fancy, right?) or a bog-standard attacking midfielder? Early signs are he can do an impressive job as the hook (the bog-standard word for enganche) and is equally adept at playing on the left as an inside-forward, where I think I prefer his contribution. Which is arguably how he has played for Coventry this season, moving inside from the left and lighting up the middle with rocket shots and an eye for the killer ball.

And this is another interesting point to note with regards to the new game. Sometimes in past editions of the franchise it has felt as if the lower-leagues are ignored a bit and the players are simply slapped with a random playing style/position from out of a hat. Early signs playing with Coventry are encouraging: Conor Thomas is a revelation in the ball-winning-midfielder role and John Fleck is the Beauty to Thomas' Beast as the deep-lying-midfielder. Another case of art imitating life for those who have seen City play this season.

What does this mean for the game? Well, for one, it feels more realistic. The team I've moulded is very similar to Steven Pressley's impressive side this season, and have been getting decent results. Compared to previous editions when I've tried to imitate real-life Coventry tactics (it could be argued we didn't have a clear identity then as we do now, though), the results have been disastrous; I just started from scratch again and picked my own formation.

I have to applaud the developers and the scouts and everyone involved with FM 2014 on the game. I may have only played 11 hours so far, but it is very impressive. When I'm playing, it doesn't feel like I'm pitting my wits against the algorithms of the game engine, it feels like I'm engaged in tactical warfare with the man in the adjacent virtual dugout: mano-y-mano, in a game of who-changes-to-4-4-2 first.

The only issue I have so far is a minor, minor one. But still, it has to be raised.

Mathieu Manset's preferred role is as a 'false nine'? Maybe they thought he was called Matheo Manjarin instead.

You'll stay as my back up target-man Mathieu, thank you very much. While I'm still on -3 points we can't be having any of that silly Spanish nonsense now, can we?

Summer spending signals inflation, not intention

The recent summer spending by Swansea, Southampton, and Sunderland has seen a glut of commentators queuing up to marvel at how the middle-men of English football now seem to have made moves of real intent by flashing the cash in their preparations for next season.

All three have recently made 'big-money' signings, with Swansea sealing a move for Wilfried Bony, Southampton signing Victor Wanyama, and Sunderland managing to snag Emanuele Giaccherini and Jozy Altidore.

Many have made their opinion known that all these signings represent brilliant transfer coups for the clubs involved, and that we may finally see a more equally-matched Premier League, wherein smaller clubs can flex significant financial muscle and even outfox the big guns to secure signings. After all, Wanyama was apparently targeted by Manchester United and Arsenal at one point, while Brendan Rodgers seemed to show interest in Bony to remedy his Luis Suarez crisis.

As romantic and welcome as this notion is, it seems somewhat forced.

Yes, there is no doubt that the three clubs have spent a significant amount of money to get their men (Swansea's club-record £12m fee for Bony nearly matches Arsenal's second highest transfer fee, £13m for Sylvain Wiltord. Sacré bleu!) but when viewed within the wider context that is the Premier League summer transfer window, their spending is minimal.

Chelsea and Manchester City have already spent £30m and £50m respectively on only two players each, while rumours abound that Manchester United and Arsenal are about to smash their club-record transfer fees to sign their targets. Compared with these amounts, £12m begins to look like a pittance.

The relative quality of the players seems to dispel this idea as well. Of the four signings (Bony, Wanyama, Giaccherini and Altidore) only Giaccherini seems to have the international and title winning experience that would represent a 'major' coup for any of the three clubs. He is a back-to-back Scudetto winner, and was recently one of Italy's stand-out players at the 2013 Confederations Cup. Bizarrely, he was also the least expensive player of the quartet.

Bony and Altidore meanwhile, both had incredibly impressive goalscoring seasons, but both were playing in the Eredivisie, a league that has declined noticeably in quality over the last 15-20 years. Neither was part of a title winning team, although Altidore did manage to win the Dutch Cup with AZ Alkmaar.

Finally, Wanyama has spent his career in Belgium and Scotland, and although he performed extremely well in Celtic's Champions League campaign last term, he is still comparatively untested as a footballer compared to the Top Four's transfer targets.

This is not to say that these signings do not represent very good pieces of business for their managers. All four are young, obviously talented footballers, who should improve as they get older and will possibly attract the attention of 'bigger clubs'.

What is not true however, is that the acquisition of the players signals 'intent'.

Their transfer fees (£12m for Bony, £12.5m for Wanyama, £8.8m for Altidore and £6.6m for Giaccherini) are, with the possible exception of Giaccherini, an indication of the inflation that the transfer market has suffered in recent years.

£12m used to get you a European Championship winner, World Cup finalist, and French Footballer of the Year.

Not any more.

Living the dream

I recently got to undertake a work experience placement at Metro in London, where I was plonked on the sports desk with a group of sports fanatics who welcomed me into their fold for a brief five day period.

It was awesome.

But now, if I never make it into the world of sports journalism, I am going to be one sad blogger.

Anyway, the point of this post was to give a link to all the articles I managed to get up on the Metro website during my time there. There's a mixture of transfer-rumours and funny stuff in there, with a couple of blogs thrown in for good measure (including one on Coventry City. Hooray!)

Enjoy!

 http://metro.co.uk/author/tonypulissympathiser/

Football: Kicking the habit of prejudice

I suppose what shocked me most about yesterday's horrific events in Woolwich was not the dire press coverage that near enough incited Twitter and Facebook riots (for cockney accented non Middle-Eastern man spouting Islamic hatred, read: 'Muslim looking'); but the backlash against Muslims living in the United Kingdom that this sad case seemed to invoke. My social network feeds were clogged with people having their say on the matter: from individuals appealing for calm, to others claiming we should take back the country we live in and deport all Islamic persons, or in more extreme cases, kill them.

It is very true that the thoughts should be with the soldier who was brutally murdered yesterday, and his family for having to deal with such a tragedy. So it is a shame that this event has been misconstrued as a chance to deal out ultimatums to the government about how we should cloister ourselves in our own little island bubble and not let any foreigners in.

I created this blog to talk about football, and in particular I feel the incident yesterday and the feelings that have stemmed from it can be linked with a film I watched the other day.

This film was a documentary that aired at the Sundance Film Festival in 2008, and its rights were subsequently bought by ESPN for distribution. The film, Kicking It, is a feature that follows the events of the 2006 Homeless World Cup. The Homeless World Cup was the brainchild of Mel Young, a social entrepreneur who takes a special interest in helping the homeless people of the world.  The Homeless World Cup is open to all countries in the world, and the criteria for playing in the tournament are players must:

• Be male or female and at least 16 years old at the time of the tournament
• Have not taken part in previous Homeless World Cup tournaments
• Have been homeless at some point after the previous year's tournament in accordance with the national definition of homelessness
• Make their main living income as a streetpaper vendor
• Be asylum seekers currently without positive asylum status or who were previously asylum seekers but obtained residency status a year before the event
• Currently be in drug or alcohol rehabilitation and also have been homeless at some point in the past two years

Many of you will be asking what this has to do with yesterday's events. Kicking It  follows seven different players who are to take part in the tournament and charts their progress throughout the film. Of most note to myself was the story of Najib, from Afghanistan. Throughout the film, Najib tells us how he fears the Taliban will come back and assert their rule over Afghanistan once more. On the streets of South Africa, he wishes that he lived in a country that had more freedom: not just for him, but women as well.

One of the film's more moving subplots involves him striking up a romance with a Paraguayan girl, something he remarks would never be possible in Afghanistan. They do not speak each other's language, and communicate through interpreters. You can sense that this is one of the happiest moments of Najib's life.

Najib is Muslim. Yet he has the same hopes and dreams of many young men in this world: to live in a land free from oppression and fear, to meet a girl and fall in love, and to play football. How does that differ from any number of teenage boys in the UK? But looking at comments across Facebook and Twitter yesterday, it was clear that this was not a view shared by some. On one particularly heated debate, someone remarked:

'lets have it straight there a bunch of corrupt, greedy, dirty fuckin scum bags, look Iraw and Afghanistan, Muslim countries, your tellin me the country's is in that much of fuckin state be because of a minority!! It's in there nature, fuckin cunts!!! [sic]'

I have come to believe that sport, in particular football, can be a powerful agent in social change and social thinking. After watching Kicking It, I think it is inconceivable that anyone could watch this film and not see themselves in Najib. He wishes for a normal life. He just happens to be Muslim and Middle-Eastern, and not Christian and White like many people in Britain.

Anyone who seems to harbour such views, that Islam and Muslims are alien and violence is 'in their nature', I implore you to watch Kicking It. I only hope that more films like this can be released, on a wider scale, to show up the idiots and teach them that 'different' does not mean 'danger'.

Hopefully, the penny will begin to drop. People like Najib show us that in most cases, race and religion should not mark you out for hatred and prejudice. In fact, aside from those two differences, we're not that different at all.

How Do You Solve a Problem Like Luis Suárez?

He may have already won the PFA Player's Player of the Year award (the votes were sent in before Liverpool's clash with Chelsea on Sunday afternoon), and if it is revealed he has earned the respect of his fellow footballers at at the end of the season, the FA will undoubtedly be left red-faced as the controversial Uruguayan has caused outrage in the Premier League yet again with his apparent attempt to bite Branislav Ivanović.

Obviously, within the last 24 hours there have been innumerable calls to ban and fine the 26 year old attacker, and people are well within their rights to wish this. The video footage is damning, and Suárez of course has previous history in using his teeth to harm an opponent; many of you will remember that he sank his teeth into Ottman Bakkal during his days in the Eredivisie with Ajax. It goes without saying that this kind of behaviour is inexcusable on the football pitch, and many would not bat an eyelid were Liverpool to say 'enough is enough' and move the South American on for a giant fee in the summer.

To do so would be a huge mistake. My problem with this idea of Suárez is that many feel that he is a Machiavellian malefactor, always looking to cause trouble, incite mayhem, and endanger the game of football. This is definitely not the case. I doubt there is a professional player on earth who contains a pathological desire to play in such a way, and it certainly isn't Suárez.

His is an enviable talent; his close control is an absolute joy to behold, his movement is as swift and deadly as a rattlesnake, and his penchant for the outrageous and unthinkable are the reason Liverpool have looked more threatening this term. His problem however, seems to lie with a case of a quick temper, and seeming ignorance of the world around him whenever he steps on the football pitch.

Growing up playing as such a nimble trickster would no doubt have bought fouls in from every angle, and the retaliation that Suárez is accustomed to dishing out is a manifestation of this. We in England saw the same problem with one of our own young, sparkling talents, Wayne Rooney. Cast your minds back to the World Cup in Germany, 2006, and the quarter-final against Portugal. Rooney tries to fight his way past a persistent Ricardo Carvalho who tugs and tugs at the white England shirt until Rooney can take no more. In retaliation and frustration, he plants his foot between the legs of the Portuguese defender, in an act that made men around the world wince, regardless of nationality.

He was a young man who saw the red mist far too frequently, and it is a credit to Sir Alex Ferguson and the Manchester United management that he has managed in recent years to reign in the raging temper within. Without them, it could be argued Rooney would have descended down a long path to self-destruction on the football field, an erratic talent that some would deem to volatile to deal with.

Which brings me back to Suárez. What is clear from his violent and dangerous outbursts is that he has a clear problem with controlling his anger on the football pitch. When things are going right for him, there is no smile bigger than his on the pitch. But when he is having a frustrating afternoon, it feels as if the papers are on their haunches in anticipation, ready to pounce and prepare their headlines for the following morning's sport sections.

I honestly believe it is a matter of education for Luis Suárez. I don't see evidence that any manager in his past has actively tried to deal with his anger problem, which is a sad indictment on modern football. Either they were too scared to try, for fear of offending him and losing him to another club, or for fear of nullifying the unpredictable spark that sets him off like a whirling, shrieking Catherine wheel on the football pitch. This is set to be a testing time for Brendan Rodgers, his current manager, who wishes to start a new dynasty of success at Anfield. Aiming to sort Suárez out should be his number one priority.

For the Premier League's sake, I hope Rodgers has the ability and bravery to stick with Suárez and try to educate him in a better way. Anger management courses, one-to-one talks to remind him of the fact he is a role model, family interventions - whatever it takes. It would be too sad to see such a great talent go to waste when we should instead be aiming to help him better himself; not just as a footballer, but as a man.

Michael Owen: Thanks for the Memories

When I was nine years old, my family and I went to Fuerteventura on holiday. I hadn't really gotten into football at this point; while I played for a local football team, I wasn't a fervent follower of the game as most of my friends were, and didn't really care to watch any games on the telly when they were on.

One of the key moments that set me off on a love of football was a game which will remain etched in the memories of many an Englishman as one of the finest nights that we have ever witnessed as Three Lion's devotees. And it was in a bar in Fuertaventura at nine years old that I witnessed a rampant England side destroy Germany by four goals. Michael Owen, who announced his retirement today, scored a hat-trick. And in that bar, whilst Owen experienced the euphoria of netting three goals for his country, I fell in love with football.

I expect many people of my generation will feel a tie to Owen; while we were growing up and learning the ways of the game, he was making a name for himself at Liverpool and on the international scene. Everyone loved Owen at school; he scored goals (lots of them), and he was a exemplary role model for anyone who loved playing football. Polite and down-to-earth, you would have never guessed he played for a top Premier League club.

And just as we were on the cusp of realising that we will never get to play for our country, or even for a team better than our own village outfit, Owen started to succumb to the injuries that sadly blighted his career in what should have been his peak years. After scoring 118 goals in 216 appearances for Liverpool, he moved to Real Madrid, where it must still be said he scored a respectable amount of goals for the amount of appearances he made from the bench (13 in 36 games), but after that is where the hamstring problems which he suffered from since his years at Liverpool began to rob him of playing time both domestically and internationally. His move to Newcastle United was interrupted by a cruciate injury which kept him out for nearly a year, and many on Tyneside were happy to see the back of him after he left. I was on hand to see him score one of his goals for Newcastle at the RICOH arena when he popped up to score an injury-time winner to send Coventry out of the League Cup. Heart-breaking though it might have been, I'm eternally glad I got to see him score a goal in the flesh.

After the departure from Newcastle, there was no real hope of Owen ever establishing himself on the international scene again. His record of 40 goals in 89 England appearances was remarkable, nearly a one in two ratio, and had he been able to shake off the injuries he incurred, there is no doubt he would have been the country's top marksmen ever. For all the scepticism over his Premier League career as well, he is the league's seventh highest scorer, and doesn't look like being overtaken any time soon.

The out-of-the-blue contract offer from Manchester United in 2009 caught many by surprise, but again, Owen was able to score goals for the Red Devils, including a crucial goal in the Manchester derby that I doubt many people (except City fans) would not have been delighted to see him score.

What next for Owen then? As is common knowledge, his connections within the horse racing scene should keep him busy, but I suspect he will want to come back to football at some point. I can't see him coaching or managing, but a job within the media looks increasingly likely. Unfortunately, on the few times I have seen him as a pundit, he doesn't seem to come across as an engaging individual. However, on his Twitter account and blog, he remains a reliable source of clever and insightful views on the game, and a humble one to boot. It should not be viewed as a great failure if he doesn't step into television punditry; some people use their voice and mind far greater through writing than their mouths (advice I wish some pundits would take nowadays, and accept that just because they appeared on TV as a player does not mean they can appear as a personality to the same effect), and I believe Owen might be one of these people.

Whatever he decides to do, I know that countless tributes to him will be pouring in across the country, and abroad too. Owen was once the best in the world at what he did; he lit up games with his lightning pace and predatory finishing, and I really do hope he manages to score just a few more for Stoke this season if he is given a chance.

It may be tempting to ask what might have been if he could have kept fit, but to do so would be doing a disservice to him and his career; his footballing candle may have burnt quickly, but it burnt brightly, and while he is still on Stoke's books, I wouldn't bet against there being a few sparkling embers before he hangs up his boots at the end of the season.

Good luck, Michael!

Terrace Tongue-Twisting

Last Saturday I was lucky enough to be invited to Craven Cottage to watch the Premier League clash between Fulham and Stoke. Many (probably all) of you will read that and think 'lucky?!', but it did contain one of the goals of the season - a sumptuous Berbatov volley - and it was great to go to a  gorgeous ground I hadn't been to before and spend a fantastic day in the company of some die-hard Fulham fans.

One thing that did strike me during one of the chants that was ringing out around the Cottage was how unintentionally funny one of football's staple songs can be. Listen in around football grounds around the country and you will hear it sung loud and proud by partisan fans who love their team and their manager.

'Martin Jol's Black and White Army!' You all know the one. All your team needs is 1. a manager, and 2. team colours. I have heard the chant in a variety of guises over the years at Coventry City (currently trying to find our tenth manager in 10 years) with a particular favourite being 'Micky Adams' Sky Blue Army!' No silly extra syllables, no frills; just our manager and our colours. Easy

Not so funny so far. Where this chant gets ridiculous is when the syllable count starts to weigh a bit heavy. I was at the Stadium of Light with some Villa supporting friends in 2009 when they started singing 'Martin O'Neill's Claret and Blue Army!' I wanted to join in, but my tongue didn't feel up to the challenge. I said earlier that if you listen hard enough, you'll be able to hear this chant at most grounds around the country; all I could hear on that night in the North-East was 'MarneeClabooo Army', with a slight Brummie twinge to it.

I feel sorry for the fans who have had to abandon this chant because they bring in a manager whose name is just too long and impractical; I haven't heard West Ham sing 'Sam Allardyce's Claret and Blue Army' since they appointed him, and it is easy to see why. There might be fears the Upton Park faithful had all developed a speech-impediment over the course of an incredibly long (read: long-ball) season.

Sometimes it's not even a question of how long the manager's name is. Tony Pulis must be a nightmare for Stoke fans, with 'Tony Pulis's Red and White Army!' That combination of 'l's and 's's is enough to rival 'She Sells Sea Shells' for a spot on the world's most spit-flecked tongue-twister.

So for now, I'm happy that Coventry have been kind in appointing managers whose names are simple and easy to fit in to this chant. God forbid they should be too forward thinking and appoint a foreign manager with radical new tactical ideas, who can take us back to the glory days of the Premiership and deliver us from this windswept, barren wasteland that is League One. His name might just be too long. And the thought of matches without a '[Insert manager's name here] Sky Blue Army' is just too much to bear.

Having said this, I'm expecting Paul Peschisolido to be named as our new boss shortly.

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back: Robbie Rogers and Football's Fight Against Homophobia

Yesterday the world of football would like to believe it witnessed a first. Indeed it is a first in the eyes of many, many who will not have been old enough to remember, or have chosen to forget what came before.

Yesterday, Robbie Rogers, a 25 year old footballer from America, who made four appearances for Leeds United and six for Stevenage, announced he was gay on his personal blog. And while many will believe he is in fact the first professional footballer to do so, this is not the case.  Justin Fashanu, an English footballer who played for many clubs including Manchester City and West Ham United, was in fact the first prominent footballer to announce he was gay to the press and the public.

His peers were disgusted. His own brother disowned him.

He committed suicide by hanging himself in a lock-up in Shoreditch in May 1998.

That was nearly 15 years ago. Thankfully, society and football seem to have moved on from these shameful times, when it was considered that only men can play football and 'poofs' were not welcome on the pitch. But it is still worth noting that until Rogers decided to make public his sexuality yesterday morning, since Fashanu, no figure in male football had ever come out as gay. Other sports have had their watershed moment in the fight against homophobia; ex-Welsh rugby player Gareth Thomas came out in 2009 and in 2011, England cricketer Steven Davies announced he was gay. But football has had to wait until now to claim that its participants can come out without fear.

Yet as tempting as it may be to jump on the bandwagon and announce that football can finally  claim to be on the right path to inclusivity (one can almost hear Sepp Blatter salivating over the prospect of a press conference stating football has vanquished its last great social taboo), it must be noted that Rogers has retired from football, at least for the present time. Whilst he posted on his blog that it was 'time to discover myself away from football', nobody would begrudge his decision if he were to stay away from the game permanently. Yes, it is a fantastic and important moment in the history of football, but can anyone say with any strong conviction that the reason Rogers has quit the game has nothing to do with fearing the abuse and heckling he would endure?

The fact is that until gay footballers feel safe enough to reconcile playing football with their personal life and feelings, then the sport cannot claim to be the 'beautiful game'. Nor can it be said that everybody can speak within its 'universal language'. Football should be a game where everybody should feel comfortable with who they are; whether you are black or white, woman or man, adult or child, gay or straight. And if you cannot speak its language without fear of being made to feel like you are not wanted, then this is not a sport: it is a disgrace.

Robbie Rogers deserves the congratulations he is receiving for being brave enough to come out, especially from within a sport that has a dire history in its treatment of gay participants. But we must not think that the fight against homophobia is over within football. You might argue that until today, it had never really begun.

Coventry City: Destined Never to Escape the Merry-Go-Round

Today, Coventry fans up and down the country (that is, if there are many left) were devastated by the news that manager Mark Robins has all but been confirmed as the new boss of Huddersfield Town. It is a hard pill to swallow; having recently been dealt a cruel blow in the Johnstone's Paint Trophy Northern Division Final losing 0-3 to Crewe Alexandra, and slipping up further in the race to the play-offs in losing 0-1 to Yeovil, the news that Robins was to leave for pastures new has been the bitter icing on top of the stale cake that has been this past week.

What actually rankles more than Robins leaving is the fact that it has not been long since he stated his desire to build on the early success that he has tasted at the club. A meeting with SISU officials just last week was said to be about discussing long-term goals for the club that would help aid the rise through the league system that is so badly yearned for at the RICOH arena. The question now is whether Robins left because he was not given assurances about the changes he wanted to implement, or whether his head was turned by a more lucrative offer from Yorkshire. It seems until there is transparency from both parties, supporters will be left none-the-wiser about who to aim their ire at.

The shame for the Sky Blues is that the current situation shows no sign of ending; without a manager with a sense of loyalty and love for the club, chances are that higher-placed clubs will have no problem in plucking their man from the depths of League One. The buy-out clause remains a devastating Catch-22 situation as well: any manager who sees Coventry as a stepping-stone will insist on a smaller buy-out clause. If this condition is not met the manager will not sign; yet if it is, the risk of him being poached by a wealthier club if he performs well increases manifold.

And this is unfortunately the situation that Coventry have found themselves in with Robins. Huddersfield stumped up the offer at the second time of asking, and that has resulted in the Lancastrian clearing his desk at the club's training ground. No doubt when the next manager is chosen (and there may not be many interested in taking the job), if he starts to outperform within his meagre surroundings, the vultures of the Championship, or even higher, will come-a-calling.

While we sing together, we will never lose. It seems that until we get a manager who is prepared to sing with us, and for us, we are destined to remain an ever-present stop on the managerial merry-go-round.

Ending an Era, Beginning Another

Finally! This is something I have been meaning to do for too long, longer than the inevitable Fergie time on a Sunday evening if Manchester United are losing by one goal. I set up a blog before, but never had the chance to do anything with it. Again, it was supposed to be on football (it was called Tony Pulis Sympathiser: everyone's favourite pragmatist has too many critics), but, owing to University work and other writing commitments, it is currently lost in the web somewhere, floating through cyberspace with all the rest of the dead blogs out there.

It is time to start afresh: in less than four months I will be leaving the University of Southampton, leaving myself with far too much free time  to fill. I want to earn some money to go to the World Cup in Brazil, but I also want a platform to muse about football as a whole.

Hence Cracking Jabulanis. Not just a reference to one of the worst footballs of all time, but a nod to when I was playing football once and a friend shouted 'Cracking Jabulanis!' at a particularly good-looking woman passing by. Sexist and puerile it may have been, but it brilliantly illustrated the way in which football permeates into the public consciousness.

So as I come to the inevitable conclusion of my University life, expect to see me ramble on here about anything to do with football; I have no limits to what interests me about the Beautiful Game, from my beloved Coventry City F.C. to the far reaches of South America and Brazilian football.

And if you do end up reading any of my stuff, I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Likewise, if you think I'm talking bollocks, don't hesitate to let me know!