Stonewall
As in, “Andy Johnson is not a diver, it was a stonewall penalty.”
Stonewall, according to the OED, means “to delay or block by refusing to answer questions or by giving evasive replies.” That doesn’t really fit in with common football usage.
Perhaps it’s a covert reference, or subtle tribute, to either the eponymous riots in New York in 1969, or the gay rights group that formed in their aftermath. Perhaps the gay and transgendered diners in the Stonewall Inn fled from raiding policemen attempting studs-up sliding tackles? Were drag queens brought down onto the Manhattan sidewalks by blatant blouse-pulling? This one remains, for now, a mystery.
Sir Bobby Robson once rather charmingly referred to a penalty as being “stone bonkers.” The significance of this we can only muse upon, privately.
Not to be confused with:
Dry Stone Wall – a structure that Jose Mourinho once accused Martin Jol’s Spurs team of building across their goal in an attempt to stop Chelsea scoring – successfully. This method of perimeter construction is traditional in the North West London area where it is used to prevent sheep from wandering onto the North Circular Road.
Stony-faced – default adjective to describe Sir Alex Ferguson after a Rooney dive has failed to earn a penalty.
Stoned – Paul Merson, “off on another one of his mazy runs”?
Wednesday, 27 February 2008
Monday, 25 February 2008
The Language of Football: Part 3
Game On!
As in, “Game On!”
Principally used during commentary on matches involving “big” teams, as these are guaranteed to produce higher-quality and more exciting football. This will usually have been confirmed via the preceding weeks’ television build-up.
The phrase "Game On!" will be ejaculated, with masculine triumphalism, not upon commencement of the game, nor even when the first goal is scored, but typically when the first equaliser is scored. It’s as though the commentator (burgeoning hysteria barely concealing his relief that the hype may about to be justified) is announcing: “Look! Two of the best teams EVER! ON THE PLANET! And they can BOTH score goals! HANG ON EVERYBODY!”
The use of this phrase also infers that the dour, ultra-defensive fare witnessed prior to this moment was merely a football version the spectacle preceding many Tour De France stages (no, not ceremonial syringe-swapping), where the riders trundle along for a few miles prior to the commencement of actual racing, in a part warm-up / part PR exercise.
Logically, at 1-1 the likelihood of any given outcome is the same as it was at the kick-off. Yet we’re supposed to believe because both sides have now scored, that the intensity and excitement levels are about to become almost unbearable - heck, your television set might even explode - and that we now undeniably have “A GAME OF FOOTBALL ON OUR HANDS.”
Not to be confused with:
Game Over! - announced by the commentator when he wishes to inform us that, by virtue of the intricate relationship between the score, the respective teams’ abilities, and the remaining playing time – a relationship only he can properly evaluate - the result of this match cannot and will not change.
As in, “Game On!”
Principally used during commentary on matches involving “big” teams, as these are guaranteed to produce higher-quality and more exciting football. This will usually have been confirmed via the preceding weeks’ television build-up.
The phrase "Game On!" will be ejaculated, with masculine triumphalism, not upon commencement of the game, nor even when the first goal is scored, but typically when the first equaliser is scored. It’s as though the commentator (burgeoning hysteria barely concealing his relief that the hype may about to be justified) is announcing: “Look! Two of the best teams EVER! ON THE PLANET! And they can BOTH score goals! HANG ON EVERYBODY!”
The use of this phrase also infers that the dour, ultra-defensive fare witnessed prior to this moment was merely a football version the spectacle preceding many Tour De France stages (no, not ceremonial syringe-swapping), where the riders trundle along for a few miles prior to the commencement of actual racing, in a part warm-up / part PR exercise.
Logically, at 1-1 the likelihood of any given outcome is the same as it was at the kick-off. Yet we’re supposed to believe because both sides have now scored, that the intensity and excitement levels are about to become almost unbearable - heck, your television set might even explode - and that we now undeniably have “A GAME OF FOOTBALL ON OUR HANDS.”
Not to be confused with:
Game Over! - announced by the commentator when he wishes to inform us that, by virtue of the intricate relationship between the score, the respective teams’ abilities, and the remaining playing time – a relationship only he can properly evaluate - the result of this match cannot and will not change.
Saturday, 23 February 2008
Fulham 0 West Ham 1
A blunt, impotent and tactically bemusing performance saw Fulham surrender meekly to a West Ham side that required little more than a modicum of application and functionality to secure a 1-0 victory at Craven Cottage.
The declamatory cry of “every game’s a cup final” appeared merely mock-heroic folly as it dwindled away, consumed by bemused post-match silence, simmering frustration, and no little anger from the Fulham supporters.
Some desire (desperation, even) to shore up curious tactics, or else an inspired game-plan, crafty enough to carry players lacking in confidence, may have sufficed today against limited opponents whose primary approach was a long central ball aimed towards Carlton Cole. Alas, both application and insight were lacking in the home team.
Even the recent resurgence in passing and possession, the calm midfield dominance and measured build-up play, evaporated. The team lacked cohesion, co-ordination, and were disjointed throughout. Nervousness is acceptable given the circumstances, but confusion regarding roles, and an apparent lack of rehearsal of attacking movement, is unforgivable.
Various forays were made to the edge of the opponents’ area, only for moves to break down due either to over-elaboration, hesitance, or a poor choice of final ball. Simply, it is unclear who is supposed to be scoring and how they are supposed to be doing it.
The line-up and formation yields no clues here. McBride was selected as a lone front man, with Bullard pushing far enough forward to be considered a secondary striker. Now, McBride possesses many notable qualities, but he cannot excel as a lone forward. Bullard, likewise, has ability to spare, but is not a striker of any stripe. How these two, then, were meant to combine into a potent stike force is an enigma.
Hodgson suggested recently, as most managers do, that their 4-5-1 formation is designed to adapt into a 4-3-3. However, expecting Dempsey and Kamara to combine with McBride to create some kind of spearhead when they were also being asked to play as (very) wide wingers is fanciful at best. This concept simply never materialised, and the crowd were left to witness McBride toiling away in painful isolation, unable to make an impact. The usual valiantly won flick-ons merely spun off into space for easy collection by the West Ham defence, Dempsey and Kamara distant spectators out on the flanks.
In the second half, the sole adjustment appeared to be the pushing of Andreason up alongside Bullard. The Dane toiled away, that cannot be denied, and he increasingly invokes the ghost of Sean Davis, but although he covered much ground, any impact was negated by the tactical anomalies in force. The availability of Nevland, Johnson, and even Kamara renders this approach all the more bewildering.
Frustration began to seep through the crowd as the manager appeared reluctant to tinker. When Eddie Johnson was brought on (too late for most spectators), this alleged striker was condemned to occupy the wide position of the player he replaced, Clint Dempsey. His chance of making an impact limited, a singular cameo comprised a vicious angled shot from 8 yards that rose from his boot and is rising still.
With Fulham living increasingly dangerously, West Ham eventually broke through with three minutes remaining. Despite Solano’s studs appearing to be up and in Niemi’s face, his goal was given - the final poisonous flourish of an abject performance from referee Webb. Andreasen persisted with his protests until he was dismissed.
With Nevland apparently not even considered until this point (he never made it on), Hodgson’s only other concession to attacking play was throwing Hangeland up front in the dying moments.
Relegation is now beginning to loiter around Stevenge Road like a vagrant that refuses to be moved on. Not only are the brutal and intransigent mathematical formulae beginning to stack up, but performances such as today’s fail to suggest that the resources exist to conjur anything meaningful from the scarce remaining fixtures.
Niemi 6, Konchesky 6, Hughes 6, Hangeland 6, Stalteri 6, Dempsey 6 (Johnson n/a), Murphy 5, Andreasen 6, Bullard 7, Kamara 5, McBride 6.
Substitutions: Johnson for Dempsey (75th minute).
Substitutes Not Used: Keller, Bocanegra, Smertin, Nevland.
The declamatory cry of “every game’s a cup final” appeared merely mock-heroic folly as it dwindled away, consumed by bemused post-match silence, simmering frustration, and no little anger from the Fulham supporters.
Some desire (desperation, even) to shore up curious tactics, or else an inspired game-plan, crafty enough to carry players lacking in confidence, may have sufficed today against limited opponents whose primary approach was a long central ball aimed towards Carlton Cole. Alas, both application and insight were lacking in the home team.
Even the recent resurgence in passing and possession, the calm midfield dominance and measured build-up play, evaporated. The team lacked cohesion, co-ordination, and were disjointed throughout. Nervousness is acceptable given the circumstances, but confusion regarding roles, and an apparent lack of rehearsal of attacking movement, is unforgivable.
Various forays were made to the edge of the opponents’ area, only for moves to break down due either to over-elaboration, hesitance, or a poor choice of final ball. Simply, it is unclear who is supposed to be scoring and how they are supposed to be doing it.
The line-up and formation yields no clues here. McBride was selected as a lone front man, with Bullard pushing far enough forward to be considered a secondary striker. Now, McBride possesses many notable qualities, but he cannot excel as a lone forward. Bullard, likewise, has ability to spare, but is not a striker of any stripe. How these two, then, were meant to combine into a potent stike force is an enigma.
Hodgson suggested recently, as most managers do, that their 4-5-1 formation is designed to adapt into a 4-3-3. However, expecting Dempsey and Kamara to combine with McBride to create some kind of spearhead when they were also being asked to play as (very) wide wingers is fanciful at best. This concept simply never materialised, and the crowd were left to witness McBride toiling away in painful isolation, unable to make an impact. The usual valiantly won flick-ons merely spun off into space for easy collection by the West Ham defence, Dempsey and Kamara distant spectators out on the flanks.
In the second half, the sole adjustment appeared to be the pushing of Andreason up alongside Bullard. The Dane toiled away, that cannot be denied, and he increasingly invokes the ghost of Sean Davis, but although he covered much ground, any impact was negated by the tactical anomalies in force. The availability of Nevland, Johnson, and even Kamara renders this approach all the more bewildering.
Frustration began to seep through the crowd as the manager appeared reluctant to tinker. When Eddie Johnson was brought on (too late for most spectators), this alleged striker was condemned to occupy the wide position of the player he replaced, Clint Dempsey. His chance of making an impact limited, a singular cameo comprised a vicious angled shot from 8 yards that rose from his boot and is rising still.
With Fulham living increasingly dangerously, West Ham eventually broke through with three minutes remaining. Despite Solano’s studs appearing to be up and in Niemi’s face, his goal was given - the final poisonous flourish of an abject performance from referee Webb. Andreasen persisted with his protests until he was dismissed.
With Nevland apparently not even considered until this point (he never made it on), Hodgson’s only other concession to attacking play was throwing Hangeland up front in the dying moments.
Relegation is now beginning to loiter around Stevenge Road like a vagrant that refuses to be moved on. Not only are the brutal and intransigent mathematical formulae beginning to stack up, but performances such as today’s fail to suggest that the resources exist to conjur anything meaningful from the scarce remaining fixtures.
Niemi 6, Konchesky 6, Hughes 6, Hangeland 6, Stalteri 6, Dempsey 6 (Johnson n/a), Murphy 5, Andreasen 6, Bullard 7, Kamara 5, McBride 6.
Substitutions: Johnson for Dempsey (75th minute).
Substitutes Not Used: Keller, Bocanegra, Smertin, Nevland.
Friday, 22 February 2008
The Language of Football: Part 2
Mazy Run
As in, “Giggsy is off on another one of his mazy runs.”
Mazy doesn’t appear in the OED. Presumably, it’s being employed here as an adjective to describe something that resembles a maze. Like a run.
Via this phrase, then, the commentator is suggesting that the player in question, whilst in possession of the ball (one would hope), appears, by virtue of their non-linear progression, as though they are running though a maze.
It is usually employed in a complimentary manner. However, not all mazy runs are created equal: have you ever seen Diomansy Kamara play? Upon receipt of the ball, the head typically goes down, the brow furrows, and he’s off - locked on to some mysterious ultrasonic frequency that only he can receive and decipher. Intent on reaching some elusive destination that only he appreciates the significance of. If only it were the goal.
Potential future developments:
Primark Run – player bustles his way through a group of closing defenders in a similar manner to a teenage girl entering a clothes store on the first day of the sale;
Clapton Run – player weaves in and out of defenders as though dodging bullets on Lower Clapton Road.
As in, “Giggsy is off on another one of his mazy runs.”
Mazy doesn’t appear in the OED. Presumably, it’s being employed here as an adjective to describe something that resembles a maze. Like a run.
Via this phrase, then, the commentator is suggesting that the player in question, whilst in possession of the ball (one would hope), appears, by virtue of their non-linear progression, as though they are running though a maze.
It is usually employed in a complimentary manner. However, not all mazy runs are created equal: have you ever seen Diomansy Kamara play? Upon receipt of the ball, the head typically goes down, the brow furrows, and he’s off - locked on to some mysterious ultrasonic frequency that only he can receive and decipher. Intent on reaching some elusive destination that only he appreciates the significance of. If only it were the goal.
Potential future developments:
Primark Run – player bustles his way through a group of closing defenders in a similar manner to a teenage girl entering a clothes store on the first day of the sale;
Clapton Run – player weaves in and out of defenders as though dodging bullets on Lower Clapton Road.
Thursday, 21 February 2008
The Language of Football: Part 1
A toe-dip into the strange argot of the modern-day football commentator.
Big Ask
As in, “Jamie, can you possibly suppress your familial loyalties for the sake of professional impartiality when conducting your near-forensic level analysis of games involving Super Pompey?”
Jamie: “It’s a big ask, Richard.”
A surreal notion, this one. Its origin is unknown to me, but it’s presumably a contraction of: “That’s a very big thing to ask someone to do and expect them to achieve.”
In view of the overabundance of profound, luminous insights that most pundits are aching to share with us, such time-saving grammatical techniques are perhaps forgivable.
Not to be confused with:
Big Ron - ex football pundit, presently engaged in a legal battle with the 1970s for ruining his media career.
Big Ask
As in, “Jamie, can you possibly suppress your familial loyalties for the sake of professional impartiality when conducting your near-forensic level analysis of games involving Super Pompey?”
Jamie: “It’s a big ask, Richard.”
A surreal notion, this one. Its origin is unknown to me, but it’s presumably a contraction of: “That’s a very big thing to ask someone to do and expect them to achieve.”
In view of the overabundance of profound, luminous insights that most pundits are aching to share with us, such time-saving grammatical techniques are perhaps forgivable.
Not to be confused with:
Big Ron - ex football pundit, presently engaged in a legal battle with the 1970s for ruining his media career.
Sunday, 3 February 2008
Fulham 2 Aston Villa 1
re·viv·al (r-vvl)
n.
1.
a. The act or an instance of reviving.
b. The condition of being revived.
2. A restoration to use, acceptance, activity, or vigor after a period of obscurity or quiescence.
Synonyms: reactivation, rebirth, renaissance, renewal, resurgence, resurrection, resuscitation, revitalisation, revivification
***
“I copped one across the bugle, no problem.“
Indeed, a bruised protuberance proved no hindrance to Jimmy Bullard, as he underwrote a critical Fulham victory, and firmly announced his return to Premiership football following a 15-month absence through injury. Producing a display of astonishing application and insight, he also provided an assist for Simon Davies’ equaliser after the team had fallen behind through an Aaron Hughes own goal. Then, by virtue of an elegant free-kicked goal, he both secured an elusive win, and announced a glorious return from the wilderness.
Any flavour of victory would have been significant in the current circumstances, but this was a fully-deserved one, founded on industry and skill, against a high-flying team with a robust away record. The victory, and it’s execution, a renaissance revealing encouraging evidence of Roy Hodgson’s ongoing influence on the training ground.
It was also an indication of the manager’s knowledge of the European transfer market. This was his first post-transfer window game, and the efforts of the three new recruits that were included in the starting line-up highlighted, and helped to rectify, pre-Hodgson deficiencies.
Leon Andreasen, whilst not as eye-catching as a Bullard or a Murphy, was mobile and committed, and provided a much-needed aggressive edge to complement his colleagues’ more creative output.
Brede Hangeland appears to be the embodiment of the tall, dominant centre back that the Fulham defence has lacked for so long. He provides an overt physical presence, yet is assured and skilful enough to play his way out of trouble. He possesses the bearings of a future captain.
Erik Nevland, endearing in his pre-transfer desire to play for the club, suggested intelligence through his runs, displayed surprising pace and aerial aptitude, and as admirable a work ethic as his colleagues. His appearance and play suggesting a leaner and more mobile Heidar Helgusson.
In addition to these contributions, Simon Davies added a little bite and tenacity to his usual flair and energy, together with a skillfully taken goal. Dempsey, likewise, was not afraid to blend some aggression with his dexterity.
The whole tenor of Fulham’s play has improved. Players now look comfortable on the ball, and confident of their ability to execute short, quick passes. There are still a few too many misplaced balls, and the team could benefit from some of the sideways movement being replaced with more incisive, forward passing, but the improvement is clear.
The only apparent weak link in the arrangement was the beleaguered Chris Baird, whose position as fall guy du jour was cemented by his creation of the Bullard bruise. However, the rather crass booing of him by his own supporters during the team announcements cannot have done much for his self-confidence. It’s curious that he continues to be deployed at right back, considering Hodsgon’s public recognition that he is a centre back by trade, and the availability of Moritz Volz. It was therefore particularly encouraging that he steadied himself and delivered an assured second half.
With Agbonlahor effectively nullified (before Simon Davies finished the task just before half-time), the overriding threat for the home team was the ease with which the Villa players found Carew, albeit typically with his back to goal, and some 25 yards out. It’s a credit to the Fulham defence that these incidents rarely developed into realistic opportunities.
So, a revival certainly, if not yet a revolution. The contrast with the soulless anti-football of the Sanchez era could not be more stark. It is clear that there still a way to go both in terms of league survival, and team development, but the team now appear to be equipped with the necessary ingredients to realise an escape from the clutches of the Championship.
Niemi 7, Konchesky 6, Hughes 6, Hangeland 7, Baird 5, Davies 8, Murphy 8, Andreasen 7, Bullard 10, Dempsey 8 (Kamara n/a), Nevland 7 (McBride 6).
Substitutions: McBride for Nevland (70th minute); Kamara for Dempsey (79th minute).
Substitutes Not Used: Keller, Volz, Bocanegra.
n.
1.
a. The act or an instance of reviving.
b. The condition of being revived.
2. A restoration to use, acceptance, activity, or vigor after a period of obscurity or quiescence.
Synonyms: reactivation, rebirth, renaissance, renewal, resurgence, resurrection, resuscitation, revitalisation, revivification
***
“I copped one across the bugle, no problem.“
Indeed, a bruised protuberance proved no hindrance to Jimmy Bullard, as he underwrote a critical Fulham victory, and firmly announced his return to Premiership football following a 15-month absence through injury. Producing a display of astonishing application and insight, he also provided an assist for Simon Davies’ equaliser after the team had fallen behind through an Aaron Hughes own goal. Then, by virtue of an elegant free-kicked goal, he both secured an elusive win, and announced a glorious return from the wilderness.
Any flavour of victory would have been significant in the current circumstances, but this was a fully-deserved one, founded on industry and skill, against a high-flying team with a robust away record. The victory, and it’s execution, a renaissance revealing encouraging evidence of Roy Hodgson’s ongoing influence on the training ground.
It was also an indication of the manager’s knowledge of the European transfer market. This was his first post-transfer window game, and the efforts of the three new recruits that were included in the starting line-up highlighted, and helped to rectify, pre-Hodgson deficiencies.
Leon Andreasen, whilst not as eye-catching as a Bullard or a Murphy, was mobile and committed, and provided a much-needed aggressive edge to complement his colleagues’ more creative output.
Brede Hangeland appears to be the embodiment of the tall, dominant centre back that the Fulham defence has lacked for so long. He provides an overt physical presence, yet is assured and skilful enough to play his way out of trouble. He possesses the bearings of a future captain.
Erik Nevland, endearing in his pre-transfer desire to play for the club, suggested intelligence through his runs, displayed surprising pace and aerial aptitude, and as admirable a work ethic as his colleagues. His appearance and play suggesting a leaner and more mobile Heidar Helgusson.
In addition to these contributions, Simon Davies added a little bite and tenacity to his usual flair and energy, together with a skillfully taken goal. Dempsey, likewise, was not afraid to blend some aggression with his dexterity.
The whole tenor of Fulham’s play has improved. Players now look comfortable on the ball, and confident of their ability to execute short, quick passes. There are still a few too many misplaced balls, and the team could benefit from some of the sideways movement being replaced with more incisive, forward passing, but the improvement is clear.
The only apparent weak link in the arrangement was the beleaguered Chris Baird, whose position as fall guy du jour was cemented by his creation of the Bullard bruise. However, the rather crass booing of him by his own supporters during the team announcements cannot have done much for his self-confidence. It’s curious that he continues to be deployed at right back, considering Hodsgon’s public recognition that he is a centre back by trade, and the availability of Moritz Volz. It was therefore particularly encouraging that he steadied himself and delivered an assured second half.
With Agbonlahor effectively nullified (before Simon Davies finished the task just before half-time), the overriding threat for the home team was the ease with which the Villa players found Carew, albeit typically with his back to goal, and some 25 yards out. It’s a credit to the Fulham defence that these incidents rarely developed into realistic opportunities.
So, a revival certainly, if not yet a revolution. The contrast with the soulless anti-football of the Sanchez era could not be more stark. It is clear that there still a way to go both in terms of league survival, and team development, but the team now appear to be equipped with the necessary ingredients to realise an escape from the clutches of the Championship.
Niemi 7, Konchesky 6, Hughes 6, Hangeland 7, Baird 5, Davies 8, Murphy 8, Andreasen 7, Bullard 10, Dempsey 8 (Kamara n/a), Nevland 7 (McBride 6).
Substitutions: McBride for Nevland (70th minute); Kamara for Dempsey (79th minute).
Substitutes Not Used: Keller, Volz, Bocanegra.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
