Die Zukunft Ist Deutsch

Everyone knows predicting the future is a fools game, but I am prepared to make a fool of myself for you, long range prediction fans (They exist right?). Plus I have this hunch I might be on to something.

So we all know Michael Platini is on a mission to make UEFA a fairer, more worthwhile, and in my opinion better place. Sorry big four fans, but it is true. A maximum of three teams would be better for everybody, but that is a story for another time. Back to the point in hand; what will become of Michael's presenting-the-trophys-in-the-stands-for-the-fans Europe?

Well this dealio with only financially sound teams being allowed into the Champions League thing makes a lot of sense to me. I mean, what is the point of supporting a team that can just be bought out and made good? Really, what would be more satisfying all you Chelsea/City fans, the current paid for by Russian privatisation/middle eastern investment sucess you have at the minute, which lets be honest, the fans didn't have much to do with, or proper, achieved on the back of fan power sucess? Surely the second. When I see fans disucusing about how they need an investor for the team I die a little inside. That is not the banter of football fans, that is the banter of banking fans.

Seems there is growing feeling, especially amongst the throngs of the Kop and Stretford End, that maybee clubs should be in the hands of the fans. Their is a revolution brewing I tells you, a beautiful footballing revolution. Clubs owned by those that give their time and rubels, not by those with an interest in bizarre economics.

Whats more, here in England we need this revolution soon. If Platini really can bring this rule through, then as far as I can tell, England's Champions League representatives would be Arsenal, Villa, Spurs and Christ knows who else. One of those super well run Isthmian league clubs perhaps? God knows who Scotland would send. We need this revolution, or we are out of Europe guys.

Thing is, as per usuall, Germany is allready there. There are many, many wonderful things about the Bundesliga; Cheapness, entertainingness, beeringlassesinthestandsness, standingterassesthatactuallyworkness, Miroslav Klosseness, but most importantly of all clubsownedbythefansness. I accept, this it not entirely true, but their seems to be a lot of negative feeling towards the way Hoffenheim, Wolfsburg and Bayer Leverkusen are run. Every other club is owned by the fans, for the fans, for the good of the fans and the comunity. CLubs are not investments, they are football clubs, sports clubs, social institutions. Glorious

Okay, German clubs may be off the Sky Sports Barca-and-Real-and-the-English European radar, and to be fair, they have struggled in the CL of late, but things will change. Germany is going to be all over the Champions League pretty soon, seriously. Some of the best attended and most well run (Schalke aside) clubs, operating on a morally superior model to le prem. This is the future, and in Germany, the future is now.

Spain is similar, but most clubs outside the top few get attendances that would be normal in the Championship, whereas Eintracht Frankfurt, a club so mid table, the prospect of any other finishing position that the warm embrace of 10th through 12th strikes fear into all concerned, average 40,000 every week. So while Real and Barca are also fan run, the rest of the Spanish league are to small or incompetent (cough, Valencia and Deportivo) to hold a candle to what the German teams will become.

But to be honest, a few years of Germany showing us the way would be great news. Hell, we may get real glasses and standing terasses back. Perhaps ticket prices will fall, attendaces will rise, and our penalty taking skills will Improve. Either way, if I have a choice of spending my £15 on watching Chester City climb their way out of the negative numbers whilst their winding up order is put on hold, or going to see Bayern vs. Dortmund, with a Weissbier or two on the way, the decision dosen't require to much.

It may not be obvious at the moment, but Germany has got football right, and soon they are going to be rubbing it in our noses.

Gratuitous Competition Time

I will award a celebratory high five, and a big slice of smug pride pie to anyone who can name all the players on the spiffing background. Post 'em up. There are 22, but of you make 19 I will be impressed.

NB. If you want the high five, you'll have to travel for it.

The Ballad of Little Mickey O

This tale begins back in '98 in the cool Saint Etienne breeze. A young lad from Cheshire way had something special up his short Umbro sleeve. The lad had 23 goals in the big leagues, 23 times he had got his name up in lights. There was talk he could be the next big thing, Englands new hope, the man that could bring the titles back to Liverpool.

So he went on a bit of a jog did little Mickey Owen in France. Floppy haired Becks lofted it up. A deftness of touch and a burst of raw pace. A jink right, a jink left, and a sublime finish. Good God it was good. But that was it. That was best, his zenith, his peak. The mountains rolled away in front of him, he would never tread so high again, than he did that night in St Etienne. I doubt if he knew it, but ahead of little Mickey, lay the foothills and plains. Some high points yes, but at the end of it all was a city by the sea, all altitude lost, the Gallowgate called.

And so it went. Make no mistake, little Mickey still tucked them away; another eighteen then eleven more, before one glorious season that promised so much. Mickey won the cup by himself he did, one afternoon in Cardiff, then again in Dortmund. Three titles for Mickey and the Reds. This was it, they could challenge for the league, the Champions League. Gerrard knew how to do it, Mickey knew how to find the net. He got three on that night in Munchen, the first man do that since some bloke in red. Liverpool were ready, and so was Mickey. How could it fail? Yet fail it did, it all unravelled somehow, it didn't happen. It was time for a change.

So Mickey went Galactico, when he could get a game. The boy did good, he outscored Raul and everyone else in Spain. It was going so well. Except it wasn't somehow. Goals per minute is great n' all, but if you still ain't getting the minutes so what can you do? You could go to Newcastle I suppose.

Hoho, Mickey was to good for that, he could never be convinced tha Tyneside is where his future lay. But he did it, he wanted to play, hats off to the lad. Alas, injurys took their toll, he scored when he could but is wasn't what it was supposed to be. As he looked over his shoulder little Mickey could see European glories over on the Mersey. Should have gone back lad, should never have left. Turns out fortune dosen't allways favour the brave. You can be a man, and stride out from home, away from the worship of the Kop, and how does fate repay you, by exploding your knees that's how.

When Mickey was playing, he could still put them in, but that second night in Germany, something broke. The knee poping, the spiralling fall. Seemed like the nation recoiled, seemed like Mickey could be done, but he wasn't. The lad picked things up, and after a years out he was back on form. Keegan and Owen, how could that fail? Then some fat bastard ruined it. Mickey despaired with the rest of us. He got caught up in the great shitstorm of the Tyne. He lost face, he lost his England place, he got relegated for Christs sake.

But Mickey had one last trick up his sleeve. The boy couldn't jink no more. He is a poacher now, but if you are poaching for Manchester United, you are going to catch some pheasants, and so Mickey proved. Last gasp winners, European hattricks, the boys getting them. Not bad for a lad with knees held togethor with naught but bailor twine.

Alas Mickey's future is still up in the air. You need games for England lad so it seems, Bailor twine or no. But we need a poacher right, an impact sub? Surely no Italian can forget what good an past his prime hero can do. Take the lad Fabio. His knees may be past it, his speed gone, but he is a good lad.

I was going to be all scathing in the above rubbish, but it turned out all posetive. Who'd have thunk it?

Team Of The Time #5

So here we are. The fifth occasional Radetto team of the time. There was talk of multi million pound transfers to other more well known, actually read by real people blogs. Alas, all were turned down, so here's what you get:

1. Luca Toni - So the transfer window has been a bit of a let down. 4 months of tabloid speculation seem to have failed to materialise. Apart from big Luca. Seems that Euro '08 somehow broke him a little bit. The million goal wurst und weissbier fan seemed to have lost his golden touch. And lets be honest, we all wanted Toni's return to triumphant. The big man teaming up with Totti again, just like that summer four long years ago. And it went so well. That smile is infectious no? DM

2. Marco Boriello - Another Italian journeyman pick. Boriello seems to have been there abouts for a good while now. After a glorious year at Genoa and a big money move to AC, you got the feeling that he would become another one of those almost guys. He had only hit double figures in two seasons ever. But things seem to be going okay in Milan. A few goals, still getting some appearances, however it is a mighty task to steal the limelight away from Filippo Inzhagi, and you have to respect the man for taking it on.18 months later, he finally did it. This was a sublime goal. First off, FIlipo would have been offside, but I doubt he could have pulled a goal out from that position without a decent amount  of elbow deflection. Boriello said he just felt the ball and that was all it took, like a Jedi. Whatever happened, he hooks that thing out of the air in a supreme fashion. Who says Serie A needed Zlatan? DM

3. Lee Chung Yong - The second most excellent bachelor in all of South Korea, Lee Young-Pyo can get bent, and Seol Ki-Hyun? Seol Ki-Hwho? Harsh, but we need to get with the times, this cat is 21 and he's already the best at football of anyone in Bolton, even when Vernon Kay goes back twice a year to visit his gran. I wish June Sarpong was still hot... And you wish your teenage/young adult/middle aged/deathbed hero of 2006, Lee Young-pyo, was still the second best South Korean player to hit the Premiership. Dead wrong, mate. Owen Coyle's reputation for 'good' football (I didn't actually WATCH Burnley games, sheesh), precedes him and this gent exactly what he needs if he's going to surmount the fact that Bolton is 4 feet deep in pies and everyone has mouths on their knees. You know readers, I get the feeling, that in time, he will play for a better club than Bolton Wanderer's FC. Everton or somebody. IJC

4. Clint Dempsey - AKA Deuce, The Human highlight reel, the Kansas City Can Opener,  AKA the winner of this months Radetto Crossbar Chubby of the Century! Fuck, who needs over a cenury of cultural immersion when you've got money athleticism and rigourously practiced technique?! You know what I always say, 'What up? The best footballers aren't bred in the streets, dude, they're made in laboratories. With a shit load of cones. Peace!' But he's gone, stolen from us by an incident that didn't make the highlight reel. But fear not ,one of his crew, The Scholarship Six (who probably also read the Guardian Sport website that day, come to think about it) has informed me he'll be back for the World Cup, just in the nick of time to net me a modest amount on a radical anti-patriotic bet: Clint to put in a lung busting performance: 200 - 1 against.

Are you seriously telling me that given the oppurtunity you WOULDN'T make a rap video? IJC

5.Boaz Myhill - Boaz is one of those keepers who inhabit the lower reaches of the premiership. The Paddy Kenny/That guys who played for Charlton type. The type who will occasionally have one heroic day in the limelight. Last weekend it was Boaz' turn. But it wasn't just the heroic clean sheet that we liked here at Radetto. It was the style of the saves. It was Deflecto-tastic 90 minutes of goalkeeping. That man wasn't gonna catch nothing. Hero. DM

Serie A Needs This Title Race

People say Serie A is in need of a recovery, it needs a title race. The English press paints a picture of a league dominated by Internazionale's euro bottlers. Scudetto after Scudetto handed out to the Nerrazurri, in acknowledgement of their somewhat disheartening ability to grind out the results despite the best efforts of the peninsula's provencial heroes, the whole season leading to an inevitable blue and black glory. That seems a little harsh to me. Serie A has not been far off its late 90's saturday morning best. Luciano Spaletti aided by that boy Totti took the fight to Inter for three years. Roma coming within 45 minutes of the title 2 short seasons ago, and getting the better of Inter in the Coppa Italia thrice in a row.

What Serie A has lacked is a genuine, season long battle for the crown. One of those ones that really gets juicy round about the end of January. Thing is, this season, as of right now, Serie A is looking pretty darn juicy. Something imprtant is about to happen amongst the towers of San Siro. Lets just get this straight; If AC beat Inter, they will be three behind with a game in hand, and fingers crossed, they can push Inter all the way through untill June.

But there is more to it that that. A title fight between AC and Inter has so, so many plus points, but with this AC, and this Inter, it would be wonderous to behold. Inter have become the immovable object of the Italian game post Calciopoli. No matter what happens they will be at the top come the end of the season. They invested heavily, and if I am honest pretty awesomely over the summer, bringing in Diego Millito and Wesley Schneider, thus satisfying Radetto's cool sulky Argentinian and genius Dutchman criteria. This is a more likable Inter squad than any of the previous four, the fact that they seem to be more falliable than previous seasons just adds to it.

And then there is AC. The antithesis of Inter's 'churning out the reults' play. This is a team containing masters of the sublime pass; Beckham and Pirlo, and the darting adventurous play of Alex Pato that undid Real Madrid not so long ago, not to mention the skills a motivated Ronaldinho can call upon. With Alex Nesta back at the back and in commanding form, along with Thiago Silva, Abbate and Antoninni Milan look formidable at the back for the first time in years. Hell, these guys are even presenting a goalscoring threat, and lets be honest, no one was expecting that. With Gattuso as commanding as ever as well as Boriello and that man Filippo Inzhagi adding not insignificant contributions to the cause I think the majority of Italy's calcio fans are dreaming of an upset this weekend. It really is a classic Mourinho, football by numbers side up against the Leonardo's opportunistic and of late prolific free spirits. Just look at the highlights from the Juve and Sienna games.

So yeah, if AC get the result this weekend Milan, and Serie A as a whole are in for one hell of a 2nd half of the year. Silky skills against solidarity, sulbilme passes against percentage play. Sod it, I can even bring myself to commit good against bad to words. But Inter are hella cool bad guys. Hell, Ranieri's happy go lucky Roma are not too far back, and Toni is back among the goals. Oh Mr Richardson, how my saturday morning need you now.

Football Is My Conscience

So what if I wrote exactly what it is about football, just write what is going on all up in those synapses.

Man I love football. It really is one of those great things in life. Like when your are in the build up to a big game. Waiting for it to start, and the tension and all that jazz. And then occasionally you just get those awesome games. Like Italy vs. Germany in 2006. That was glorious. The whole of that World Cup was glorious. Football has really got good again. I don't know what happened with WC 02 and the '04 Euros, but they just were not as good as the tournaments that preceded and followed. I mean, France '98, oh god that ruled. I mean there was the final, and there was Croatia, my lord there was Croatia. I totally fell in love with Davor Suker. On the playground at school I was allways Davor after that (I was eight, come on). And Chilie. Zamarano and Salas are still one of my all time favourite strike forces. They just ruled. That time with the national anthem before the Brazil game. Daaaaang. And Baggio playing for Italy, and how glorious the Netherlands were. It was great. Then Euro 2000 came along. Oh Francesco. The classic Toldo hands on hips, dissilusioned pose. With his nose tissue holding back the blood, and his awesomeness holding back the tears. How did it end like that after the semis? After the first 85 minutes. And then there was Bobby. Never had it felt so good to be a Toon fan. We beat Arsenal at Highbury to go top, in like, January. We drew at the San Siro. 4th, 3rd, oh holy glories. Then there was that night. The missed pens. The Going out to Partizan Belgrade. The shame. And football was kind of medium untill 2006. But then Germany came along. And I fell in love with international football again. It was primo. The German renaisance under Klinsi, the French reeling back the years, the awesome bastardlyness of Ronaldo. The glorious, gloroius Italians. Grosso in the semi, the Tardelli run all over again. And then the penatlies. Those penalties. Those stand an inch from the TV screen penalties. Buffon. Grosso again. Oh Lord. I'll set this down. I loved Germany 06. And then off to the Alps. Where everyone played such good football. When you watch every single game, and they all rule so hard, I mean c'mon. The Dutch at first, then the rain, and Colin Kazim Richards. He was superb. The Turks were superb. The Tournament was Superb. Croatia again, Slaven's nightmare. Spain. Good lord. Anyway, I need a brew. Only 143 days to go.

How High are these North Country Boys (Support Your Local)

Here at Radetto we grew up on the banks of the Mersey, in the footballing hotbed that is Cheshire. While the songs from the other side spoke of European and Domestic sucess, on our bank the ballad was not quite as sweet. That dosen't mean that the melting pot of Cheshire football culture has no stories worth telling. So in the interest of supporting the local boys, here it is; the football in Cheshire West administerative district update.

Crewe Alexandra

First off, the Alexandra bit of the name still makes Crewe Cheshire's glamour club, and with the Gradi wonderland glory days of early this century seeming like a distant, beautiful memory, Crewe are struggling to adjust to Division 4 football. The ongoing trauma of finding a replacement for Gradi seems to be troubling the Alex at present, allthough the present incumbent, Dario Gradi is doing a good job of keeping them in reach of the playoffs, between tenth and eleventh. Alas I think the return of the glorious days may be a long time coming, and a future of League One/Two alternation awaits amongs the draft rafters of Gresty Roads main stand.

Chester City

Oh my Christ. They may have achieved pub quiz importality by having the fist owner to fail the 'Fit and Proper' thing, but that seems to have somewhat unsuprisingly, fucked them over good and proper. A man needs to be told before it goes this far. I mean, jeez. One constant of my youth was City's latest crisis being on the back of the Chronnie. The failing of living an impossible dream has left City with blackened blue eyes and only needing three more points to finally get some points on the board.

Northwich Victoria

Love was the key to Vics popularity for a brief, glorious week in November. Love of the cup, and the plucky giant killers, found its way to the Vic's door. First taking out the somewhat idiotic FC United of Manchester in satisfying style, before turnig on the romance and knocking out Charlton in the first round proper. The Vics were on everyones lips. The charlatan underdogs, whose star striker dreamt of knocking out Liverpool whilst pulling pints down the road. Alas it was not to be against Lincoln, but another solid Conference North season beacons for Cheshires current cool kids.

Witton Albion

I never want an easy life if me and he were ever to get there. So it goes for the Albion. Tellin stories forever. Keeping it real

Airbus UK Broughton

And so to Airbus. Crashin' In to become Chester's best team. Never have things been so good down at The Airfeild. Firmly ensconsed in the League of Wales, hopefully free of relegation battles for now, yet unlikely to cross paths with the average english football fan. The Wingmakers are a bit of a Cheshire sucess story, one of the only ones I know. Heres to the lads, and fingers crossed they can do the business against TNS this weekend.

So it is with football. Local love is the key