That's a good song the chant brigade have got going there Sly Bug, but I'm having some trouble understanding the lyrics...
So. The Keegan Revolution began with a 0-0 draw against Bolton and I believe a virgin was sacrificed in Lord Kevin's honour.
LUAFC lost 1-0 at home to Doncaster sodding Rovers in a further illustration of how Leeds are able to pretty much destroy three-quarters of the teams in League One but aren't actually any better - or even as good as - much of the top six. This perhaps explains the club's continuing court battles (they're suing, now, apparently) to get the fifteen points back and
guarantee promotion, rather than chancing it and leaving it to the bloody players to sort out. If the season could have only ended in October... and Tottenham could only have left Gus Poyet where he was...
The
African Cup Of Nations began today, with Ghana against Guinea. Watching the highlights, it seems that sadly some of the cliches about African football may still ring true: short, untrustworthy goalkeepers; impetuous forwards and a general lack of composure; frenetic pace. And the grass was remarkably long. There was a great winning goal for Ghana, though, and of course it is daft to assume anything from the opening game.
In the UK, there will be live games on BBCi (the red button fiasco) around fiveish and sevenish, and a highlights programme on BBC3
at seven o'clock, which seems like an untidy piece of scheduling. As a local authority employee I'm good to leave the office at four and be home by half-past, so I hope to see a good deal of this tournament; I'm not looking forward to the rigorous patronising I will suffer at the hands of Gavin Peacock.
Hopefully tomorrow (or actually, later today) Simmo will share with you all what he shared with by text message yesterday; in which case this photograph will be appropriate:
And finally, the reason why I am still awake and thinking about football at 1am on a Monday morning is that I have been drinking vodka and watching the 1981 documentary
City! on YouTube; a behind the scenes film of the transfer of management from Malcolm Allison to John Bond at Manchester City. Allison actually comes across rather well, if a little sad; it's rather Bond who turns out to be the egotist, opining widely after only a few victories. Peter Swales, of course, comes across as an utter cunt.
