So much for the 'beautiful game'. It was Pele who coined the phrase and I don't think last night's Barca-Inter kerfuffle was quite what he had in mind.
Of course, Pele played football in a different age - if you want to see what players could get away with in them days just watch a .
in that it was a game built on deviousness, rather than attacking creativity. The fact that Mourinho was involved is hardly coincidental.
It's been a thoroughly enjoyable season, with plenty still to keep us interested. The fact that the quality, even amongst the top two, has been pretty variable, has only helped keep the Premier League pot boiling.
Sadly, Portsmouth have been joined by the two leading candidates for the drop at the start of the season, Hull and Burnley.
, but I think losing 16 out of 18 games away from home is bloody consistent. The Burnley defence has been so holey it should be made into a site of pilgrimage for Hansens and Lawros everywhere.
A train, a bus and a plane to get to a football match. Boo-blinking-hoo! It's boring to travel 1200 miles like that but it's hardly flippin' ARDUOUS!
Hellfire, if it's that blinking hard why not get a sponsorship form and do summat for Sport Relief at the same time, you pampered apoths! Some people have been trying to get home for a week!
The worst that's going to happen is that you might get a stiff neck from your Nintendo DS, or aggravate a paper-tear when you're shuffling the deck for the latest round of stud poker.
It'll soon be time for various gongs and trophies to be handed out and, more often than not, only the game's finest receive the recognition they deserve.
It is with this in mind that I offer up, in consultation with some petty and vindictive pals down the Blue Bell, a few alternative first XIs for this Premier League season.
I look forward to receiving alternatives from your wise, warped brains.
It looks like it's got to be Chelsea's year after all. We seem to have been here two or three times already, where the Blues apparently have a cakewalk to the title, only for some lax defending to leave a furious John Terry gnashing his teeth like a tiger who's been put on a salad-only diet.
But you can't see United taking 12 points out of 12, so it's not going to matter if Chelsea do stutter again.
Football is a squad game these days, they tell us. I suppose that's true. The numbers one to 11 don't mean owt now, really. When Harry Redknapp says to Roman Pavluychenko: "Son, you'll be wearing the number nine shirt today," it means nowt. He always does. Your wearer of the number nine shouldn't be hiding his light under a sub's zip-up tracksuit top of a bushel.
Ahhh... the FA Cup. There were them that were muttering darkly about the horror of blinking Chelsea in the Blue Bell on Saturday night.
Ancelotti's men were assisted somewhat by the official we call Lettuce - as in Webb's Wonder - as in I wonder what Howard Webb was thinking.
was a bit Halloween 'n' all, (Gerrard's elbow, JT's lunge... does a captain's armband mean you're above the law?) but in the end Chelski deserved it, even if O'Neill was probably doing his best Yosemite Sam impression for hours after.
. Whoopee! My telly and radio seem to be clogged up with more people shouting and interrupting than ever before - or was that the missus trying to bag an earful of , in which two plump middle-aged blokes sample amateur grub with all the joy and abandon of the Spanish Inquisition. Never has cooking been this serious.
Golf's on the menu for the next few days and on the eve of the tournament. Tiger has not been a role model for our children, he said.
A lot of people in golf have taken the opportunity to batter Woods for not being respectful to the game, never mind his missus, and I can't see that. Maybe he's aloof, maybe he's selfish, but that's probably what makes him so good.
He brings more interest to their silly stroll about with a ball and stick than any other player and still they play all high 'n mighty - they weren't tut-tutting in 2005 when that pitch shot rolled back into the cup on the 16th green.
Rafa Benitez, eh? He's a riddle wrapped in an enigma and deep-fried in a conundrum batter. He is football's equivalent of the parmo.
I've not met a single person in the last 24 hours who can adequately explain why, when Liverpool were in desperate need of a goal, . I was reminded of the time Graham Taylor took off Gary Lineker and replaced him with the worthy but lethal-as-a-cotton-bud Arsenal striker Alan Smith.
If there are any of the 'In Rafa We Trust' brigade still out there, we need to hear from them. . Not as exhausted as the well of inspiration the manager dips into every time he sends David Ngog on to the pitch.
Theo Walcott said after that watching Barca from the bench was a bit like watching a game played on Playstation - it was like listening to the wide-eyed ballboy that .
He's been around a while now has Theo and it might be time to stop pinching himself and get on with the job of being a very dangerous footballer. Clearly the lad could run close as long as the horse was given a start. Maxwell, the surreally-named left-back (is he a butler part-time or summat?) looked like he was running up a down escalator by comparison.
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I'm Derek Robson. People call me Robbo. Legend has it I was raised in the furnace and smog of Teesside. Some might say I took the hard road. I like to tell folk I had trials for Middlesbrough, for Hartlepool and for burglary (not guilty). I've always loved sport. My job is to say it as I see it - whether it's in the bar of the Blue Bell or on this blog. You won't find me calling a spade a soil-redistribution implement.
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