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?

Success @ St. James' Park

And so two goliaths of the English game pre-1920 met last night at Deepdale, with The Toon looking to hold their place at the top of the English Championship. It is like nothing has changed.
I was pretty gutted when Newcastle went down last season. Supporting The Toon has allways lead to heartbrake, but going down just made me angry. Lets be honest, it was Mike Ashley's fault. I can still remember where I was when I got a text saying 'Keegan gone, Milner Sold'. On a bus from Sarajevo to Jajce. Actually it had stopped for lunch on the side of the road, next to this white horse. That text was devastating. Pre 'Horse-text-gate', supporting Newcastle had felt good again. We had Kev, we had a good team, we had drawn at Old Trafford. Then Ashley ruined it.

But now things are going better. Top of the table better. Glorious. And we didn't sell to many players. When was the last time two Argentinian internationals played in the 2nd tier? I am enjoying supporting Newcastle again, and not just 'cos we win a lot at the minute. I am totally going to jinx up everything here, but next season, trying to stay in le prem (crosses everything) should be way more exciting that a dull run to 11th. And if we do better than that; Glorious. Make yourself familiar with Parma's current situation, but that could be us, a team of journeymen, youngsters and not-quite-good-enough for-the-big-time-ers.

And that brings me on to the squad. Watching the Kevin Nolan - Alan Smith joint interview last night warmed my heart. Seriously, it was lovely. Both or their accents seemed to have thickened since 'the drop' and it seems this whole 'team vibe' thing might be true. They really really wanted to get us out of this league. Managerial stability is working as well, Crissy seems to be the man. And then there is the youth. Ranger and Carrol and ranger have got to be two of the best young englishmen knocking around the Championship.

And hopefully we can take that other united out of the cup. I actually think we could be back in Europe in a few seasons. Whatever people say, the support is there, and we should be getting in Europe really. But for now, the Championship rules.

Ashley is still a dick though.

Size dosen't matter

One of the things that irked me most about the stressfull process of Newcastle's relegation last season was the frequent allegation that we (yes, i feel Newcastle are the only team I can use 'we' for) are not, and possibly have never been a big club. It seemed that we are not the big club we think we are, and the fact that we apparently deluded ourselves with bigness meant we deserved to go down.

Why would we aspire to bigness? Why would any club? Surely every fan wants to see there club win stuff? This is ridiculous. A football club is a football club, some are succesful, others are Newcastle. It seemed the fact that we went down, and were apparently big, meant we were doomed to multiple relegations and certain death. Fans of other clubs laughed how we couldn't compete with the bigness of their teams. WHY DO PEOPLE CARE????????

Seen as this blog thinks foreign football is allways better, lets have a gander abroad. Villareal - wouldn't call them 'big'. Super sucessful, but not big. Wolfsburg - Did you see the season they just had? Staying in the Bundesliga, Hoffenheim - Tiny club, but i reckon the supporters are enjoying it. Barcelona - Huge, and gloriously sucessfull.

This whole ''you're not a big club, we are'' thing annoys the hell out of me. I really don't care about the size of Newcastle, all I know is i am developing a massive fondness for championship football.

The UEFA Cup is Dead, Long Live the UEFA Cup

Yeah yeah, I know I should refer to it as the Europa League nowadays, and that is my point. Seems to me like this whole UEFA rebranding thing has just made people, or atleast journalists and managers, think even less of it in this country, which is wrong, because the UEFA cup is one of the greatest competitions on earth.

Okay, first off in my defence; it was better as a straight knock out. No denying that. But apart from a largely superflous group stage, it is great.

Football is about more than the big four, way more. Supporting Newcastle, I have first hand experience of UEFA cup fandom. For teams like we used to be it is great. We got to a European semi final for christs sake! The excitement and nerves and banter surrounding the game with Marseille built up for days. 0-0 at home, could we get the away goal? Could we beat Valencia? Newcastle vs. Valencia in Gothenburg. The level of excitement and inevitable heartbreak that that UEFA cup run supplied was incredable. Just ask a Boro fan. You don't get that battling for sixth and seventh in the premiership Harry Redknapp. I know. The league is only exciting when you are a glorious underdog with Bobby Robson in charge and you nearly actually win the thing. What it must be like to be a Wolfsburg or Verona fan, when the boys actually pull it off, i can only dream off. And even if you don't win it you get to have Liverpool's champions league place, which you can then throw away against Partizan Belgrade.

And that is another good thing about the 'second tier' trophy. Big games take place outside of England and Spain. I was in Prague when the Sparta vs. Dinamo Zagreb game was on last season, and people were talking. People were excited. So people were also expecting violence, but that ain't the tournaments fault. HSV against Bremen in the semi final last year, HUGE. A freind is from Bremen and he described there win as up there with winning the Bundesliga. Damn I wish I came from Bremen. Dynamo Kiev vs. Shaktar in the other semi. That must have been massive in Ukraine. European games rule, and the UEFA cup gives fans huge, historical, romantic games that wouldn't exist in the Champions League. I would rather of watched either UEFA semi last year. Having said that, watching Chelsea-Barca just down the road from The Bridge was a good laugh.

Football is about excitement, and the UEFA provided that in spades (Cliche-tastic this). And any tournament that gives St Patricks a chance to play in the Olympiastadium is fine by me.

Long live the Europa League