European semis & character assassinations

     Madrid was the centre of the Europe-centric footballing world this week as the Vicente Calderón and Santiago Bernabéu held the first leg matches of the Champions League semi finals. One of these is far more used to these big European nights under the floodlights than the other, but both stadia and sets of fans put on a grand spectacle.
     So...that Atlético Madrid/Chelsea game on Tuesday. What on earth can be said apart from that it was pretty bloody boring? For the first time in a couple of years it really dawned on me how much I missed having real, actual friends. If I had any I'd have been able to go to the cinema with them, go to the pictures, or even just call them up and listen to them moan about the bastard weather rather than watch the full 90 minutes of this drek. Still, to give the home crowd their due, they were bang up for it and created one holy hell of a racket. However, try as they might their players couldn't rise to the same level due to the opposition parking not one but an entire fleet of buses in front of goal.

Chelsea's tactics

In actual fact, it wasn't until around lunchtime on Wednesday that the majority of people in London managed to get in to work, so crippled was the capital's public transport service by the loss of 85% of its buses. Tube workers have now decided to go on strike next week just to make sure all the buses are in use so Mourinho can't station any more at one end of the Stamford Bridge pitch. You might well ask why London commuters didn't take the Tube last Tuesday, but if that's the case then you've never been on a London Underground train in rush hour during a strike and I'm jealous of you. I only managed to get into work before midday because I cycled, but still got in late as the game was so mind-molestingly boring that I ended up falling into a catatonic slumber so deep that it carried on right through two alarms in the morning. Turns out "Chelsea boring the arse off me" is not considered an acceptable excuse for turning up four hours late for work.. Look, I accept it's a case of horses for courses and some will argue the ends justify the means, but for pity's sake football's supposed to be about entertainment! Surely even the most ardent Chelsea fan must want to employ a bit of style, panache, attacking intent and interest at the same time as picking up three points away from home??
     I exaggerate of course, if only slightly. There were a couple of interesting things about Chelsea on Tuesday night, the first being John Obi Mikel's hair: what the pus-spewing hell was that on his head?! I can only assume it was a failed post-modernist attempt at the pineapple of Jason Lee fame. Awful. Hopefully someone showed him a mirror after the match so he knows how much of a tit he looked. The only other interesting thing was Davy Lewis rampaging around the place like a steroid-crazed floor mop on heat. Whoever told this guy he's a defender should really own up and let him in on the joke. He generally tears around the place like some kind of electrocuted idiot-savant child whose sole discernible skill is elbowing the world. I've seen some bad defenders in my time but Davy Lewis really is up there with the worst of them, not so much for talent alone as he's a reasonably tidy footballer when he forgets who he is, but because he really thinks he's a good defender. Davy, two things; one - you're a footballer but not a defender. And two - get a haircut for Christ's sake. Actually three - take Mikel with you when you go down the barber's.

Luiz performing comedy football for the masses

     The #comedydefender was up to his usual tricks in the first half and even succeeded in injuring his own goalkeeper with a particularly idiotic piece of defending. As an Atleti corner was swung in, Lewis stuck to the run of Raúl García before shoving him as hard as he could straight into Petr Čech, who landed awkwardly and had to be replaced by veteran long-arm man Mark Schwarzer. The Czech stopper will not play another game for Chelsea this season. How the Stamford Bridge hierarchy must be kicking themselves now for allowing the excellent Thibaut Courtois to rejoin their opponents here for a third successive season. Still only 21, Chelsea really must make their mind up on the impressive young 'keeper. He's already stated before that he needs to be considered Number One and will surely need to either replace Čech next year or move on.
     Widely reviled captain, leader, racist John Terry also later hobbled off and is expected to miss the second leg, although supremely talented wing-gnome Eden Hazard should have recovered fully from his latest setback by then. The problem for CFC with the injuries starting to take their toll is that they still have to contend for the Premier League as well. With Terry injured, the Blues could see Cahill having to rely on disaster zone Davy Lewis for company and indeed comedy at the back. Gaffes galore one would think, especially with Luis Suárez and Daniel Sturridge up next on Sunday. Jungle survivor Ray Mears will also miss the rest of their league games this season after admitting to copying Davy Lewis and elbowing Sebastian Larsson in the Sunderland game.

     When I woke up eventually from my Mourinho-induced slumber I prayed fervently that the next night's match would actually break out into football, and I wasn't disappointed. Bayern Munich attacked heavily and in numbers, albeit rather slowly, while Real Madrid looked to pick them off on the counter with lightning fast breaks and direct passing. The two philosophies coming together will always make for an interesting spectacle, and so it proved at the Bernabéu. The stats at half time read that Real had completed a mere 91 passes compared to Bayern's 402, but happily football is played on grass rather than computer printouts, and by that time los Blancos were 1-0 to the good.
     Ten touches was all it took for Real to get from one end of the field to the other. Ten. And that included Pepe's arse blocking a shot in the Madrid area to start the move and Benzema's knock into an empty net after two perfect passes from Ronaldo and then, unexpectedly, Fábio Coentrão. This was another example of ruthless, lightning-quick football on the break, Madrid-style. Give me that over Barcelona's tiki-taka under Guardiola any day for pure adrenaline and excitement. Although I could well do without Pepe's 'aargh I'm dying' comedy roadshow, which plays to a new set of fans every week. He is undoubtedly a very good defender, unfortunately he's also an unashaméd arsehole most of the time. Having said that, if Bayern didn't want to put the ball out of play every time he crumpled embarrassingly to the ground, they didn't have to. If Howard Webb thought the Real number 3 was injured he could stop play himself.

Karim of the crop (I'll get me coat...)

     To look at the statistics at the end of the game, football hipsters would no doubt conclude that Bayern must have absolutely crushed Real, having somewhere near 99% of possession along with many thousands more passes. In fact the opposite is true. Madrid had far less of the ball and racked up but a percentage of the Germans' passes, but could have conceivably won the game by four or five goals to one. They had far and away the better chances, and that may indeed be their main worry ahead of the second leg - they only managed to take advantage of one opportunity, their players shooting wildly when well placed to make Manuel Neuer work. The most amazing numbers on the night possibly came from CR7 who, fresh from being named one of the '100 most influential people in the world' and just about 60% fit, only had 16 touches all game. Not passes - 16 touches of the ball throughout the entire game before being subbed. And yet he did not have a bad game, far from it. Of those 16 touches, five were shots, four of which were on target. The one that wasn't on target was a sitter one-on-one that hopefully will not come back to haunt the men in white. Bayern appealed heavily for a penalty right at the death after Xabi Alonso tackled Thomas Müller as the German was about to shoot five yards out. Replays showed it was a brilliant tackle from the Spaniard, just brushing the ball away before Müller could connect. Alonso was just shaded to my man of the match vote by Luka Modrić, who is increasingly coming to resemble Sally Gunnell on crack - it can't just be me that sees this, surely? The miniature schemer was to be found all over the pitch and constantly backed his own skill in tight situations. Admittedly, the one time he lost the ball in a dangerous area Bayern should have levelled, Mario Götze shooting close enough to Iker Casillas to allow the 'keeper to get a strong wrist on the ball and set the whole stadium to singing his name. Real had a lucky escape there, as they really needed to keep a clean sheet ahead of the return leg in Bavaria on Tuesday. Nevertheless, when Howard Webb in the middle blew his whistle for full-time, the only statistic that mattered was the score, which read 1-0 to la Real.

     In the all-Spanish Europa League semifinal, Sevilla took a 2-0 lead at home in the first leg courtesy of a cheeky (not to mention lucky) backheeled goal from coconut-headed high-diver extraordinaire Stéphane Mbia and a customary tidy finish from Carlos Bacca. The highlight for me has to be Valencia's away kit though. A real thing of beauty, that, although it's probably an epileptic's worst nightmare.

Klopp and Pep are told the news

     Some hilarious transfer news came from nowhere, meanwhile, with Yahoo claiming Manchester United are preparing "a lucrative deal" to sign Messi at the end of the season. Really? Come on guys, you're nearly a whole month late for April fools' day. Yes ok, the little fella's not been himself lately, but then the venerable red half of Manchester hasn't exactly been pulling up forests since Old Purple Nose left, has it? In fact, the funnier news was probably that the bigwigs at Old Trafford had lined up a shortlist of managers to replace David Moyes which included Ancelotti, Pep Guardiola, Jürgen Norbert Klopp and Ancelotti's eyebrow. Now that is either laughable, deluded or comedy genius. I don't have a crystal ball and couldn't predict my way out of a paper bag on a rainy day, but I will tell you now that none of those four will be at Old Trafford next season. If I'm wrong I'll eat my hat. As a disclaimer, I should point out that my hat is made out of salt & vinegar crisps. Actually, I kind of hope I am wrong now..
     In sad news back in the real world though, rumours began flying around the Twittersphere and were later confirmed in the Spanish papers that former Barcelona coach Tito Vilanova was admitted to hospital in the city on Thursday night as his condition deteriorated. Of course our best wishes go to him.

                                                                  Edit

Just an hour after publishing this post it emerged that Tito Vilanova has died in hospital. He was only 45 years old when throat cancer finally claimed him. RIP Tito, decances en paz.