Confessions of a Wino

So, the worst kept secret in football has finally been revealed.  Sven-Göran Eriksson has been sacked by Manchester City.  I am always one to say I told you so, but on this occasion I have evidence.  I did predict that it would all end in tears.

Now, the rumour mill has turned up Mark Hughes as the top candidate.  At this point I have to stand up for Sven.  He had a horrific end to the season, results-wise, but he still ended up 9th in his first season in charge of an otherwise relegated club.  The Premiership “superstar” in charge of Blackburn Rovers finished an astonishing 3 points and two places higher, after several years in charge of his club.  In what sense does that promise a better performance next year?  I have two resolutions if Mark Hughes is appointed

1.  I will only attend the first home game of the season next year and I vow to sing “Sven-Göran Eriksson” for as long and as loud as my voice will stand.

2.  I will not be deflected from my world tour of Pinot Noirs.  Meet Zarcillo.

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You may have noticed I was having problems with my ISP until recently.  This was driving me to drink which is, fortuitously, a pastime in which I am experienced and capable.

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In honour of “Frank” Shinawatra, glorious and noble owner of Man City Football Club, I like to dine Thai occasionally….  Chaophraya in Leeds and Manchester are amongst my favourite Thai restos, but I am always game to try something new.  In a random internet search, I found one in Wakefield which was poorly located in a ropey town square, in a one horse town, with no car park for miles around, and drab architecture all around.  The omens weren’t good.

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As I sit here contemplating a meaningless friendly against France (meaningless since Signor McClaren failed to qualify England for the 2008 European Championships) I thought I would tip a nod to our new head coach by sampling a bottle of Carpallo.  Now Sr Capello is Italian, whereas this wine is Spanish.  Sr. Capello is a heavyweight, and this wine is a lightweight.  Sr. Capello is serious, whereas my comparison to a wine named Carpallo is inane and trite.  Then again, Sr. Capello has picked David Beckham in the squad which is a bit of a laugh and not exactly building for the future is it?  My final comparison is that Condes Carpallo is dirt cheap, whereas Sr. Capello is very very expensive indeed.  Which one delivers the best value?

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There are occasional tiny slivers, splinters of darkness in my life, that give me a sharp reminder of what I am giving up for my work.  It’s not that I resent it, entirely my own choice after all.  When I started the company in 2001, I went in with my eyes open.  I realised it would mean sacrifices.

This afternoon I took my 10 year old god-daughter to see Man City.  The look of delight on her face when City beat Spurs 2-1 was matched only by my relief at the end of an awful run of games that had put us on a snake track slithering down the league table.

Kellie came over from Dublin for the weekend with her sisters, Rebecca and Chloe - all gorgeous girls, well behaved, entertaining, polite, model children.  Kellie is obviously my favourite and she is the footie fan, tomboy, fitness fanatic, make-up-rejecting bundle of energy.

And now they have all gone and I am alone in the flat.  It’s strange how lonely you can feel when sudden mayhem is suddenly replaced by a sudden quantum of solace.

So to cheer me up, apart from consoling myself that City are back on the ladder of success, I have dragged out my notes from a bottle of Shampoo I sampled last weekend.

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I thought Manchester City were supposed to be rich.  Has “Frank” Shinawatra hit on hard times?  The January transfer window was supposed to be a time for acquisition…. for us to brandish our financial muscle like a well-endowed porn star unleashing his not inconsiderable appendage to impressive gasps.

Top of our list was a striker or two….or maybe not.  Georgios Samaras has just gone to Celtic on loan and Rolando Bianchi found more lush grazing pastures on a small square of Roman green belt known as the Stadio Olimpio, albeit that Sr. Bianchi’s debut for Lazio lasted just 5 minutes before he saw not green, but red, and was promptly sent for an early bath.

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I’ve been most impressed by nearly all the Wine Society’s own brand wines.  Then I saw this bottle by “Hand of God” which seems to be ripping off the Wine Society’s brand - I had to investigate.

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A mate of mine, Grayo, who is also a Man City fan, abhors the colour red because it’s the colour that the team from the dark side of Manchester play in.  So what colour is his car then?  “Erm. well it’s a sort of cherry colour.”  ”It’s bloody red!” I laughed.  “But the mileage is really low and it was a real bargain” he proffered in weak defence.

I agree that wherever practicable, one should buy an item based on any colour but red, and I once had a red car re-sprayed to avoid embarrassment.  But then there is wine.  Ah wine.  This life long axiom falls apart at the seams, since I have only ever seen one blue wine and it was grim.

So spotting a bar in Geneva which could have been named after a Man United kit, I approached with trepidation.  I am sick of seeing United players out on the town in Manchester whilst the City players sleep soundly preparing for the next game (or maybe just don’t get recognised).  Would Le Rouge et le Blanc be crammed with Swiss footballers, winos, or just ordinary folk?

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I was thinking of writing a thoughtful and considered post tonight but I am starting to slip into Gary Lineker mode already.

McCLAREN OUT!  McCLAREN OUT!  I’ve been completely consistent on this.  Even after five 3-0 wins on the trot (to weak opposition) I still opined that Steve McClaren should resign with (not much) dignity.

The first mistake was made by the FA in the early Sven days when McClaren was appointed assistant with the openly stated aim that he was being groomed for next England manager, the only visible qualification being that he was English.  Then, when Sven was deposed, the FA, in their infinite wisdom, approached “Fil” Scolari and only when he turned the FA down did they grovel to McClaren and pretend it was his job all along.

Oh, how we now long for the Sven-Goran Eriksson days.  He was accused of being the “quarter final” man.  I’d rather have a “quarter final” man than one who can’t even qualify from possibly the easiest European group imaginable.  The last time England failed to qualify for a major tournament was when Graham “Turnip Head” Taylor failed to qualify for the 1994 World Cup.

To be honest, although I am bitterly disappointed that England have not qualified for Europe, one has to look for silver linings at desperate times like these.  The most obvious of which would be to hear of Steve McClaren’s immediate resignation, and if he doesn’t resign by midnight then the FA will lose 1% credibility for every minute after midnight tonight that they don’t sack him.  So they lose my support at 0140h on 22 November 2007 in such circumstance.

In the interim, please appoint Terry Venables as a temporary manager while we wait for someone worthwhile to become available (Martin O’Neill?, despite not being English).  El Tel will at least be capable of winning a few friendlies, and who knows, maybe one day Sven will throw his hat back into the ring???!!!

Talking of Sven that brings me to Man City and in the photo below I wonder if Georgios Samaras will ever play another game for my glorious team.  While I ponder, I sip away at Château de Cor Bugeaud 2005 to see if that will lift my spirits.

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Anyone got an update on Diego Maradona?  Regular readers know that I hate the Argies with a passion normally reserved for mindless football thugs.  However, when it comes to wine I try to make allowances, and it just so happens that my thuggery dissipates faster than the bubbles in a bottle of cava, once an open bottle of Argentinean wine is placed on the table.

I love the Faldeos Nevados Malbec, so I really should have tried the Bonarda from the same producer earlier than this.  Bonarda, is not, although it sounds so, the name of an Italian porn star, but an indigenous grape of the cheating football nation.  Albeit not the cheating football nation that brought you the Mano de Dios, it originated in Italy!  Enough of the football insults, what was the wine like?

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