SPORT // Transfer Targets In The Twilight
The domestic league season maybe finally over across Europe but with the forthcoming European Championships in Eastern Europe and Olympic Football at London 2012. This summer promises to keep the cultured class of footballer off Twitter and seek a permanent hiatus away from your local Peri-Peri poultry outlet.
Yet, for some seasoned Englishmen who have dined on pork scratchings and chorizo while enjoying a career at home and abroad. The next few months will be a tense period as they decide whether to write a final chapter in their careers, move nearer to Korea or career off the white cliffs of Dover. We take a look at some players who were coincidently named in Sven Goran Eriksson’s European Championship squad for the finals in Portugal eight years ago and have been left (or are about to be) orphaned like Oli-ver, Oli-ver, Oli-ver Twist.
Gary Neville sharing punditry tips with Owen for his now vacant Sky Sports role. It kills two birds with one stone, considering he’s pretty much sat on his ass watching rather than playing for the last three seasons or so.
This shaggy-haired fella initially got stick from En-ger-land fans for plying his trade in the Bundesliga with Bayern (an Englishman in another league – oh the horror!) but his zippy performance at World Cup 2006 lead to him being named England Player of the Year. His move to United wasn’t as fruitful as many had hoped, so there was some surprise when noisy neighbours City quickly snapped him up following these aerobic audition clips. After one Premier League appearance this season, Hargreaves walked onto the podium with his triumphant teammates to pithily celebrate the title win but deep down in his Adam’s apple, he was well aware of his fate regardless.
Possible Destination: A trip to the Barber’s and then Gunther Von Hagen’s laboratory.
Forgetting to turn the oven off once is an exception but twice in a matter of weeks for the insurance payout is a bit fishy brother…double dip season in full effect.
Dar-i-us or Daroose as fans of Turkish club Ankaragucu affectionately chanted and welcomed him like Eddie Murphy’s character Crown Prince of Zamunda in Coming To America, was arguably the most famous Darius to have ever lived behind this previously pony-tailed plonker. I personally never rated him. Pocket-sized with a bit of pace and 20p lollipops as his party trick, this goatee rocking striker came off the same conveyor belt at the West Midlands football factory which nurtured Julian Joachim, Dean Sturridge and Michael Ricketts.
Possible Destination: Walk into the nearest charity shop, purchase a turtleneck jumper and velvet blazer and join a Motown tribute band in Solihull.
That equine in the background has stayed fresher and probably won more race meetings than I ever have…I’ll just keep this fake grin going until the pap says stop being in vogue.
*In rudeboy voice* Man remembers (talking in the third person is always a staple even social networking has cottoned on now) back in the daaaaaay when my man (just to reiterate Michael Owen has never been in a civil partnership) caressed that ball from halfway with the outside of his right Umbro boot, blurted into the opposition area quicker than Kofi running to the toilet after a line of Shittoh and shaped up his body to curl the ball into the top bin. After all his early goal scoring exploits, in hindsight the boyhood Everton fan should probably have stayed with their Merseyside neighbours. A lethal finisher who could put away a Rustler’s burger in the back of his gob without gamma radiation, the injury he suffered in Cologne against Sweden has robbed England and subsequent club sides of a natural footballer who should be in the prime of his career. I still won’t forgive him for this which then lead to this outburst and resulted in this sack of shite.
Possible Destination: Apple HQ to work on a range of patented devices which warms football and rugby players derrieres in the winter season.
The man of many talents does the “heel and toe” in his days at the only stadium in the world which counts empty crisp packets as part of the official attendance.
“Heskey goes to Nando’s and puts Peri-Peri on dem dry toes. Nah x3. Wahey. Nah x3. Wahey” Well I guess he’s run out of ideas after scratching imaginary vinyl in his former trademark celebrations and acting as a role model to former fellow Gilbert Street striker Ade Akinbiyi. Call it player power or what have you but recently sacked Villa gaffer Alex Mcleish had a mare when he put our Emile in the hole against Wolves early in the season. Maybe if the game was an evening kickoff and the floodlights suddenly went, it probably would have been a boss idea. Built like a blick shithouse and scruffy tekkers to boot, he’s like an admirable window-washer at the Great Cambridge Roundabout, cleans up well occasionally but can’t command a respectable fee once the job is done.
Possible Destination: Leicester…to retire.
Man’s feelin’ a bit wavy STILL. I don’t care if Harry sees me in this state,those injections and dem needle dere are long…CHUSS.
Last but not least is this loyal geezer whose future is still up in the air. Christened by some crayola sniffing supporters as Sir, he would have left White Hart Lane yonks ago had his well publicised knee predicament hadn’t prevented him from barely doing one weekly training session and lengths at the club’s training ground. A route into the echelons of European giants AC or Madrid would have been certain.
Possible Destination: The Beeb’s Final Score sofa to replace Garth Crooks finally.
Special mention to Stuart Taylor who will shortly be bringing an end to the world’s longest holiday in Middle Eastlands and Marton
Flop Fulop whose last day heroics gifted Arsenal an automatic Champions League place but also led to an immediate release from West Bromwich. Always here to help a hero.
By Christian Adofo