No Balls to Grab

The final day of the Premiership was an insipid affair. With the championship still officially undecided, Wigan decided to roll over and let Chelski in for eight. This effectively ended ManUre’s title hopes, allowed Chelski to set a new record for the most number of goals scored in a season since the inception of the Premiership, and gifted Didier ‘It’s a fucking disgrace!’ Drogba the Golden Boot award. Stoke City did their darnest best to surrender at Old Trafford, but an modicum of professional spirit seeped though their holiday mood and they only conceded four. A measure of sympathy ought to be given to Wayne Rooney. To miss out on a deserved Golden Boot and the championship after a personally superlative season in which he virtually carried his team on his Neanderthal-like shoulders must have been heartrending.

Elsewhere, the RedShite epitomized their dismal season with an inept goalless draw against the already relegated Tigers. It was what they deserved, although had Hull taken their gilt-edged chance in the first half, the floating circus that is the RedShite would have appeared even more rudderless. Bankrupted by their Americans owners (who else but the Americans>), the Shite are now deep in the red and may have to sell their star striker and their ugly bastard of a captain to wealthier scavengers. Their fat Spanish waiter of a manager may leave for the Old Lady, and as an Evertonian, I would be gutted to see that incompetent, clueless, unsightly and idiotic popinjay go. (Who else can be trusted to screw up the Shite like this fathead?) However, if the fat Spanish waiter decides to dish out the sort of fare in Italy – no pun intended – the Americans should do the right thing and replace him with proven managers. Graeme Sourness, Paul Ince, and Iain Dowie readily come to mind.

Over at Goodison, Everton stretched their unbeaten run to a dozen games with an uninspiring 1:0 win over Pompey courtesy of a Bily belter in the dying seconds. The visitors had a perfectly good goal chalked off and better luck to them when they take on the crass and vulgar mob of Chelski in the FA Cup next Saturday. For the Blues (the REAL Blues), the pre-season is nothing to look forward to. A trip down Down Under for ‘commercial’ purposes, and then nothing to spend on new players. The Chairman should do the right thing and sell the club to any non-American who has tonnes of money. At the very least, sack the club’s marketing and corporate finance team. Something is seriously wrong when a club with so much history and plays decent football cannot find a single investor while small fry clubs like the Black Cats, the Barcode Army and even the Bummies have their own suger daddy. I hardly hear anything from Everton on the sales and marketing front. It may be the ‘People’s Club’, but the people in charge of sales and marketing certainly aren’t people as far as intelligence is concerned. They should employ me instead.

Nothing worthwhile to report in the other matches. Just a bunch of overpaid players running around for ninety odd minutes and then packing off to the World Cup or some luxurious holidays. The season is over. Existence grows even more meaningless, at least until August.