Whatever happened to the magic number nine?
Kevin F(r)iend’s decision to dismiss the hormonally-deficient Jay Spearing for a firm, but ever-so-slightly reckless challenge on Moussa Dembélé was emblematic of the turning tides within domestic football. Slowly but surely the firm tackle is being eradicated from the English game, consigned to the same fate as hooliganism and the libero – relegation to the historical archives.
With the aforementioned tackle all but eliminated from existence, the ever-expanding list of anachronisms has set its sight on another unfortunate victim. And this time, it’s aimed its crosshair at something sacred.
A glance at the current list of Premier League top-scorers reveals one chilling, unsettling development. Of the nine players that have scored seven goals or more, not one can call the number nine shirt his own.
Since the introduction of shirt numbers in 1928, the ninth number, number nine, has been interwoven with the act of scoring goals. Irrespective of duties outside the box, the traditional occupant of said shirt has only really had to concern himself with one duty – the most wonderful duty of them all – sticking the ball in the back of the net (and doing it on a more frequent basis than his team-mates).
As a child of the 1990s, the number nine, for me, is synonymous with the likes of Robbie Fowler, Ian Rush, Les Ferdinand, Alan Shearer, Andy Cole and countless other goal-merchants. Eleven is reserved for pacy wide-players, ten is the domain of creative-types that may be fortunate enough to post double-digit figures and nine is saved for the one-in-two, twenty-goal-a-season men. It’s just how it is.
However, as Bob Dylan prophesised, the times are a-changin’. Of last season’s fourteen highest-scorers in the Premier League, a mere 36% possessed the sacrosanct shirt number. This season we’re on course for an even more meagre proportion than that.
Still not convinced? A quick look at the current top seven will surely change your mind.
Let’s start with league leaders Manchester City. For all the accusations levelled at Sheikh Mansour’s play-thing childhood club – of distorting the market, of creating a new brand of mercenary, of wilfully employing Garry Cook, want to know what their biggest football crime is? It’s having the unspeakable temerity to possess four world-class strikers and to still find themselves without an occupant for their number nine shirt. It’s a fucking disgrace.
Their noisy neighbours? Even more culpable. United, have taken the active step of denying their number nine, last season’s joint-top Premier League goalscorer Dimitar Berbatov, from repeating his feats of last term. One league start and four measly substitute appearances have yielded a grand total of zero goals. It’s a fucking disgrace.
Tottenham? Here’s one we can’t really pin on ‘Arry. Despite having the clinical edge over Jermain Defoe and Emmanuel Adebayor, Tottenham’s numero nueve, Roman Pavlyuchenko, flits perpetually between hot, cold, spectacular and non-existent, all while instructing his agent to moan to the Russian press on a bi-monthly basis. It’s a fucking disgrace.
Chelsea and Liverpool? Messrs Torres and Carroll, with their respective goalscoring records of five from 35 and 23 respectively, are in possession of scoring ratios that would make Robert Huth blush. It’s a fucking disgrace.
And last but not least Newcastle. They’re like Manchester City (see: above), but instead of four world-class forwards, Alan Pardew has three mediocre strikers, two Ameobi brothers and one Alan Smith. For a club that likes to harp on about Wor Jackie and Alan Shearer, it’s a particularly appropriate (fucking) disgrace.
You see people, De La Soul got it wrong. Three isn’t the magic number, nine is. Playgrounds around the world (with the possible exception of Ghanaian ones) aren’t proliferated with pre-pubescents imitating number threes – I, for one, did not spend my formative years pretending to be Bjørn Tore Kvarme (although I must add that my sense of defensive positional discipline was equally as lax as the hapless Norwegian).
This season we could quite feasibly see a man sporting the number 45 on his back win the Premier League golden boot, in an act which would constitute the worst number nine-related crime the Premier League has seen since Chelsea issued the holy number to Dutch defender Khalid Boulahrouz. And surely that would be the biggest fucking disgrace of them all.
The margins are fine…but that’s no excuse
Not for the first time, Liverpool have finished a game with an all-too familiar feeling of what could’ve been. Profligacy, valiant defending and bad luck have combined again to cost them more precious Premier League points.
Jordan Henderson and Stewart Downing were both denied by the post, an erroneous offside decision deprived Luis Suárez of a perfectly legitimate goal, and the careful positioning of Mark Schwarzer prevented Andy Carroll from grabbing his sixth goal in a red shirt.
According to Opta statistics, Liverpool have now hit the woodwork more than any other Premier League this term (12). And Stewart Downing, who is yet to notch his first goal or assist for the club, has been denied by the woodwork on more occasions (3) than another other Premier League player.
Lady Luck may not be shining upon the Anfield side, but Liverpool are also failing to create their own luck. Suárez remains Liverpool’s most vibrant and enterprising attacking threat, but his failure to convert a larger proportion of chances that fall his way (he managed five shots at Craven Cottage but failed to beat Schwarzer) is becoming increasingly worrying – particularly when his strike partner is still suffering from particularly prominent teething problems (in Suárez’s defence, he was marshalled superbly by Brede Hangeland, who provided a masterclass in how to deal with the effervescent Uruguayan).
Although Carroll’s movement, touch and heading accuracy were all greatly improved this evening, manager Kenny Dalglish still cannot rely on a steady stream of goals from his record signing. Despite incremental flashes of his undeniable potential, there is no doubt that his presence in Liverpool’s starting XI alters the side’s approach.
The slick, interchanging passing game that Liverpool used towards the tail end of last season – indeed the style that was so wonderfully evident during the corresponding fixture last term – is clearly harder to deploy in the presence of the former Newcastle United man.
Carroll did receive the ball at his feet with greater frequency than in previous outings, but it was clear from the early stages of the match that his lack of pace and acceleration prevented him from latching onto carefully angled passes from the likes of Luis Suárez and exploiting the space between Fulham’s centre-back and full-backs.
With Spurs destroying all teams that come before with their blistering mix of pace and power, Chelsea intermittently resembling Andre Villas-Boas’ utopic vision and Arsenal making up for their abysmal early-season form, Liverpool simply cannot afford to concede more ground in the race for a Champions League spot. Kenny Dalglish’s men are clearly a work in progress, but time really isn’t on their side if they wish to claim that vital fourth-place finish.
Four things I learned from WWE Raw live
On Friday night, I was forced to accompany consensually chaperoned my younger brother to the O2 Arena, which was hosting the London leg of the WWE Raw British tour. As an avid fan of the WWE’s brand of pugilistic thespianism in my youth, I was admittedly quite excited by the prospect of witnessing one of its shows live, despite being relatively unfamiliar with the vast majority of today’s cast.
Instead of living up to my excitement, the event, on the whole, disappointed. Not akin to the sort of soul-destroying disappointment that followed the purchase and first listen of Metallica’s St. Anger, but a more mild, manageable disappointment, like finding out that all the chocolate in your advent calendar is covered in disconcerting white residue.
Here are four things I learned from Friday night’s debacle spectacle:
1. WWE crowds are even more partisan than football ones
I forget exactly how many ‘fights’ took place last night, but in each of them, the billing pitted one crowd favourite against one seemingly pantomime villain-esque bad guy. When one of the latter characters emerged from the entrance tunnel, my brother, like many around him, proceeded to boo and shout age-appropriate obscenities (‘sucker’ and its variants seem to be the average nine-year-old’s preferred derogatory epithets).
The fights tended to follow the same format – alternating periods of domination, with the pantomine villain-esque bad guy usually putting on a stronger display, but somehow mysteriously succumbing to the weaker crowd favourite. It’s almost as though the organisers wanted to pander to the crowd…
2. It’s not just the fights that are a fix
Prior to the intermission, two of the WWE’s most ditzy divas, the Bella Twins, took to the ring and announced that a crowd contest would be taking place. Apparently, four voracious WWE fans were to be plucked from the audience and coerced into contesting a ‘dance-off’, with the winner – to be decided by a makeshift crowd noise-o-meter – permitted the opportunity to go backstage and meet one (yes, just one) WWE superstar backstage.
One of the WWE’s minions potted around the barricades surrounding the ring, ‘randomly’ selecting four over-the-moon candidates from the standing audience. His selection comprised a relatively accurate microcosm of the audience’s sociological make-up:
1 x quiet, unassuming seven-year-old boy, replete with John Cena cap and t-shirt
1 x creepy, middle-aged wrestling fanatic (a man far too old to be attending a WWE event without children)
1 x slim blonde girl in her late teens
1 x frumpy brunette girl in her early teens
The quartet formed a line, and each contest was given roughly ten seconds in which to dance under the spotlight to some generic, mind-numbingly mundane backing track. The creepy, middle-aged man went first and his repertoire was unsurprisingly awkward, but he almost predictably elicited a strong response from the crowd. The two girls then went next and performed very standard teenage dance moves, displaying decent levels of technical ability, but were greeted with choruses of boos from the largely young male audience.
The extremely shy seven-year-old boy was next. He barely moved at all when the music started, nervously shuffled his right leg, before standing still again. For some unknown reason the crowd went wild, and the Bella Twins, who had only watched the preceding displays, decided to join in. They promptly held his hands, grooved and attempted to make him dance like a puppet. Slightly unfair advantage, no? They continued dancing with him until the end of his spot, before prompting the audience to cheer.
In order to decide the winner of the competition, each contestant’s name was read out with the Bella Twins ‘measuring’ the ferocity and loudness of the audience’s response. After a deliberation period of roughly three seconds, the little boy was announced as the winner. Who would’ve thunk it?
The Bella twins - a calibre of female I could never hope to have a relationship with...
3. Mason Ryan has a body that resembles a brain.
Even from our relatively distant vantage point, Mr. Ryan’s absolutely ridiculous muscles were as clear and defined as…well, see for yourself.
'Body like a brain'
4. The WWE uses some absolutely ridiculous, morally-questionable rules
Due to his charismatic aura and stellar choice of entrance music, I was quite looking forward to seeing CM Punk take on Alberto Del Rio. This billing constituted the evening’s ‘main event’ – the final act if you will. It became evidently clear within minutes of Alberto Del Rio’s entrance that point number one was in play – Del Rio was fiercely heckled by all, and CM Punk was greeted with rapturous adoration.
Once all the flexing and preening and psyching up of the crowd was out of the way, the two began their tussle – a fight which saw Del Rio’s WWE Championship belt on the line.
After alternating periods of domination, CM Punk gained the upper hand, and appeared to be within grasp of victory when he unleashed his finisher upon Del Rio. Unfortunately for him, the referee had conveniently exited the ring and sustained a ‘head injury’, so Punk’s attempt to pin his opponent was in vain.
Amazingly, the referee regained consciousness and re-entered the ring, with Punk maintaining his competitive advantage. He then attempted to deploy his finisher again, but Del Rio’s gimp personal stage announcer Ricardo struck CM Punk with a ‘steel’ chair and the referee was forced to disqualify Del Rio.
Happy days then? The detestable Del Rio shorn of his title by the affable CM Punk?
NO.
Apparently, as my brother explained to me in not so clear terms, the ‘fight’ had been designated as a ‘pinfall-only’ one, which meant that Del Rio could only lose his belt if Punk managed to successfully pin him. Despite his pal’s illegal intervention, Del Rio retained his title. What sort of message is that to send out to kids!?
“If you cheat you’ll definitely come out on top in life.”
Abhorrent, repugnant, reprehensible. To quote the man pictured below…”IT’S A FUCKING DISGRACE!”
Didier wouldn't stand for the pinfall-only rule
Animals are over-rated
Yesterday I was the victim of a vicious, unprovoked attack. Despite several people bearing witness to this assault, and indeed knowing the soul responsible for said violence, the perpetrator will go unpunished, let off scot-free, unfettered in its pursuit of another heinous atrocity.
The assailant in this instance, you see, was not of the mortal variety.
The offender… was a kitten.
A cute, adorable, [insert similarly nauseating adjective of choice] kitten.
Allow me the opportunity to elaborate.
On Sunday I had accompanied my parents to a family friend’s house. While the adults conversed, I noticed the furry little bastard, coyly hiding underneath a glass table.
Pretending to be someone who adheres to conventional social norms, I (foolishly) attempted to stroke the feline – because that’s what people do in those types of situations, right?
The kitten initially put up resistance, playfully irritatingly evading my welcoming hand, before eventually staying still. After approximately ten seconds of gentle, albeit hesitant stroking, the cat swiftly swiped its left arm limb and slashed my right thumb, which in turn produced a disproportionately excessive quantity of blood to seep from beneath the skin.
Stunned and in search of sympathy (and a plaster), I exited the room. Unfortunately, sympathy was in short supply, with those I had been looking to elicit sympathy from instead enquiring as to how and why I had irked my heartless tormentor.
The little bastard.
Animals are over-rated
As the title of this blog (and the above anecdote) suggests, I’m not much of an animal ‘fan’. I don’t really ‘get’ them to be honest – since the advent of cars and other things like that in the developed world, most animals don’t have a tangible, practical function.
Horses, for example, are no longer required for transport and haulage – apart from the spectacle that is horse-racing, they seem to be virtually redundant, a bit like pagers (outside of the medical profession of course).
Whenever my disdain for animals is brought up in conversation, the sort of reaction that is deservedly reserved for Gary Glitter tends to emerge. Despite a whole-heartedly rational resistance to animals, my stance tends to bewilder.
But not any more.
Here are just three of the reasons why I think animals are over-rated:
1. Animals don’t speak English
This is no racist admission or expression of unwavering nationalism. It’s a simple truth.
Animals literally do not speak English. Or any of the other 6908 catalogued living human languages for that matter.
When an animal doesn’t speak English, or any of the languages I can readily translate on the internet, how the fuck am I supposed to understand what it’s thinking and what it desires?
If someone else’s mangy overenthusiastic mutt is haring towards me at breakneck speed, how am I supposed to know if it’s doing so without any form of malicious intent? Animals and paralinguistic features are not the most compatible of bedfellows, so my scope for interpretation is limited to say the least.
2. Animals aren’t clean
Admittedly this point is heavily indebted to my almost OCD-esque level of cleanliness; as someone who washes his hands up to 20 times a day, I generally tend to expect comparable commitment to hygiene from others. It really isn’t too much to ask.
Dogs, chief offenders and objects of my ire, slobber and slaver, always looking to share their foul oral fluids. They also leave their disgusting little hairs everywhere, and because they can’t operate hoovers or a dustpan and brush, they leave them there for other beings to clean up. It’s fucking selfish.
And then when I play the hygiene card, people point to cats, and how they intermittently clean themselves using their own tongue. That can’t be that that hygienic, surely? I mean, if someone asked you to be friends with a person who refused to shower and instead opted to lick themselves up and down wherever the laws of physics and biology permitted, you’d swerve that motherfucker pretty damn quick.
3. Animals are boring
Over the years I’ve successfully deduced that animals, for some, serve some of entertainment function. Not wholly practical in the strictest of the word, but functional to some degree.
With things like the Xbox, cable/satellite TV, books and alcohol, that function seems virtually obsolete now too. Why spend all that money on a pet, and then pay to feed/groom/nurse it when you could just buy a games console, which definitely won’t excrete inside the house or emit bad smells or require feeding. As logic goes, that’s pretty damn irrefutable.
Follow me on Twitter at www.twitter.com/zarifrasul
Coming From Behind 3 – 2 Eastcote Rangers
By Zarif Rasul
At the Middlesex Stadium
CFB survived a late Eastcote Rangers comeback to grab a dramatic 3-2 victory at the Middlesex Stadium on Thursday.
Ed Pike opened the scoring with a neat close-range header, before winger Daniel Caulfield doubled CFB’s advantage after springing Rangers’ offside trap and slotting past keeper Gary Wells.
Substitute Gary Edwards brought Rangers back on level terms, scoring his side’s first before setting up Jack’s superb volleyed equaliser.
But the lively Ross Berti snatched a dramatic win in the dying moments with a scrambled effort from close-range.
The victory concludes CFB’s pre-season preparations, but it will be Rangers who have the most to think about after this performance.
A disjointed opening period yielded few chances. After an even first ten minutes, the home side began to impose their authority, with striker Ed Pike testing Rangers keeper Gary Wells.
They took a deserved lead in the 33rd minute when Pike headed Ross Berti’s gloriously flighted-cross into the top right-hand corner.
The goal seemed to settle CFB’s nerves, as they subjected Rangers to wave after wave of sustained pressure.
And CFB were rewarded for their endeavours on the stroke of half-time, as Daniel Caulfield latched on to a superb through-ball from Scott Berti and coolly stroked the ball into the bottom right-hand corner.
The Behinders started the second half with typical gusto, with Sam Robbins and Scott Berti dominating in the middle of the park, and wingers Ross Berti and Dan Caulfield continually troubling the static Rangers backline.
And they were unlucky not to put the game beyond doubt in the 60th minute, when Pike’s scuffed effort hit the post following a goalmouth scramble.
The introduction of player-manager Gary Edwards drastically changed Rangers’ fortunes, and within minutes the midfielder reduced the deficit. The former Northwood man picked the ball up on the edge of CFB’s box and drilled a superb shot into the bottom right-hand corner.
This galvanised the away side, and they levelled the scores just seven minutes later. Edwards surged down the right-hand side before picking out Jack inside the box, and Eastcote’s number nine swivelled smartly before rifling a ferocious half-volley past the hapless CFB keeper.
Jack’s wonderstrike set up a tense finale, and CFB were unlucky not to regain their lead when Ross Berti’s drive was parried by Wells.
But CFB sealed the win deep into injury time and broke Rangers’ hearts when Ross Berti followed up a parried attempt by tapping in from six yards out.
Follow me on twitter at www.twitter.com/zarifrasul
Interview with Jimmy Rice (www.liverpoolfc.tv)
As some of you are aware, I have decided to run an interview section on this blog. This section will feature interviews with real working journalists, allowing us to learn about their careers and how they got in to it.
This new section’s first interview is with Jimmy Rice (News Editor of Liverpool Football Club’s official website). This is what he had to say.
Did you do a specific course in journalism? If so, which course and at which university?
I did a law degree at Sheffield Uni before staying on for the Masters in 2003.
What was your first job in journalism?
It was a real struggle for everyone on the course to get jobs initially. I was one of the first, but I was earning only £12,000 at a weekly paper in West Yorkshire called The Spenborough Guardian. Somewhere like that is a great place to learn how to do the job properly – you’ve got a patch and you need to make contacts/friends and your colleagues have more time to help you. I learned more in my first month there than during an entire year of journalism lectures.
After a couple of years I moved to the Sheffield Star – bigger stories but less interaction with people and far more pressure. Six months later I applied for a job at Liverpoolfc.tv and got it. Pretty much all of my mates on the course ended up with decent jobs. One is now at the Daily Mail, another at The Independent, and one’s a celebrity reporter for Splash in LA.
It’s important because there aren’t many jobs around, so you need to keep your options open. While I still do a lot of writing, working for a website has required me to do on-camera interviews, take and cut photos and get to grips with a content management system. I wasn’t trained for any of this. On the other hand I virtually never use shorthand anymore. A friend of mine did a print course with the NCTJ last year and has just started a job as a digital journalist for PA (she got the job after impressing during work experience). Very little writing involved. So you need to be adaptable.
There isn’t a typical day. As news editor I have to do interviews, write news stories or features, sub work done by our four other journos (though quite often they just put it on the site themselves), report on matches, check through the newspapers for any Liverpool news, cut photos, travel around with the club, promote our stories and interact with the fans on Facebook and Twitter, send SMS updates to supporters, publish videos produced by our video editors, report on press conferences and loads of other things that I can’t think of right now.
I was proud to win Yorkshire Feature Writer of the Year – mainly because the girl I was up against from the Wakefield Express was a vile and suspiciously bony creature. After that, interviewing people like Thierry Henry, Kenny Dalglish, Steven Gerrard, Ed Miliband, John Prescott and snooker player Paul Hunter about his cancer.
I did a bit of the Prince Naseem trial as well, totally missing the angle so that my piece got (rightly) butchered by the subs at the Star. And chatting for a former Prisoner of War for two days while at the Spenborough Guardian was amazing. You’d never get to do that at a daily.
Read your stuff thoroughly before it’s published. Then read it again two more times. Then after it’s published read it again. Often you’ll cringe – either at an error of your own or one inserted by subs – but you’ll always learn something. And keep your front pages in a pile under your bed – you’ll enjoy looking back on them. And be enthusiastic in job interviews. And never make the point of your writing to prove how clever you are. Nobody cares – make it easy to read.
It’s also a source of stories. For instance, a week or two ago we learnt about former Liverpool player Miki Roque’s cancer through Twitter and a message posted by his mate Xabi Alonso. Something I’m finding interesting is the number of footballers who are signing up. Even 17-year-old Academy players are getting decent followings – re-establishing a link with fans that might have been lost. This is massively important in the days when supporters could become disallusioned with the sport because of the fame and money associated with it. For reporters this can mean you don’t have to wait at a community event (that you’ve got no intention of reporting on) for two hours just to get contact with a famous player – they are now there, tweeting every day, every update a potential story.
Finally… Torres or Suarez?
Jimmy Rice writes for www.liverpoolfc.tv. Follow him on twitter at www.twitter.com/jimmyricewriter
There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Fernando
Torres celebrates after scoring against Manchester United in 2009
It is indeed with a heavy heart and a frown upon my face that I write this blog entry. Upon waking up this morning, I was greeted with the news that Chelsea had reignited their interest in my beloved Fernando Torres. Liverpool swiftly issued a statement saying that Torres was not for sale at any price. However, rumours have emerged that Liverpool’s number nine has asked the club’s hierarchy to consider offers from the London club.
The Spaniard’s future came under heavy scrutiny last summer after Liverpool’s dismal 09/10 campaign, but a mooted move away from L4 failed to materialise and Torres committed to another season at Anfield. I personally felt at the time that the intense speculation and conjecture surrounding his future had been exacerbated by the media, and was immensely pleased when he reiterated his love for and commitment to the club.
There are several reasons why Torres has endeared himself so emphatically to the club’s supporters. His signing in the summer of 2007 was a huge signal of intent, and marked the first time since Michael Owen’s early ‘00s peak that the side had a genuinely world-class striker within their ranks.
The former Rojiblanco man took to the English game like a duck to water, an assertion ably supported by his absolutely phenomenal goalscoring record. At the time of writing, Torres has scored 81 goals in 141 appearances for Liverpool, managing to break a frankly ridiculous range of club records along the way.
The Spaniard has been important off the pitch too. For the last two seasons, Torres was the most popular surname printed on replica shirts worldwide. The fresh-faced 26-year-old is an extremely marketable man, a fact confirmed by former manager Rafael Benitez, who once said:
“”He’s a nice boy and the fans love him. He is a good representative for the club and a good example for many people.
“Women (in Asia) go crazy for him. Thanks to him Liverpool has become much bigger in Asia. He’s the cornerstone for our sponsor.”
What I love most about Torres though, is how refreshingly loyal he is when compared to the plethora of Premier League mercenaries and primadonnas. Despite growing up roughly 1,300 miles away from Anfield, Torres appears to love and ‘get’ the club just as much as the likes of Steven Gerrard and Jamie Carragher.
He has immersed himself in the life and culture of the city and club, and spoke of how proud he would be if his children speak “English and Scouse”. His tribute to those who lost their lives at Hillsborough in 1989 after scoring against Blackburn in April 2009, and his ‘we’ve won it five times’ hand gesture to the crowd after scoring against Manchester United at Old Trafford in the same season are also indicative of his love for and understanding of the club.
As an avid and passionate supporter of the club since the age of seven, I have seen my fair share of heroes exit the club. Indeed, I vividly remember crying my eyes out when Steve McManaman left for Real Madrid, and coming very close to doing so again when Gerard Houllier sold God to Leeds United (a sale that still irks me to this day). The sale of Xabi Alonso in the summer of 2009 is probably the most recent transfer that managed to evoke similar sentiments.
However, such sadness would be trumped and then some if the boy from Fuenlabrada decides to part ways with the club.
Please don’t go Fernando.
YNWA
Follow me on twitter at www.twitter.com/zarifrasul
Zarif Rasul withdraws MA Print transfer request
Rasul commits to Print
MA PRINT midfielder Zarif Rasul has withdrawn his transfer request after talks with the club.
The 22-year-old England international, who joined Print in September 2010, said last month that he wanted to leave after growing dissatisfied with the club’s lack of ambition and with life in the north of England.
But Print said in a statement on Tuesday that Rasul has expressed his commitment to the club and will remain at Stade de Shorthand.
“Zarif knows that the club is looking to move forward over the next few months, and push on both domestically and in Europe,” it said.
“Zarif is a key part of our plans for the long-term future and we are delighted that he has decided to stay at the club.”
Rasul was linked with moves to Liverpool and fierce local rivals Broadcast after handing in his transfer request last month.
He cited “broken promises made to him by the club’s management” as the main reason for his unhappiness, and claimed to have “played his last game for the club.”
Print expressed their disappointment at Rasul’s request, with club Director of Football Jamie Stanley critical of Rasul’s agent Jia Joorabchian.
The club insist that they received no bids for the diminutive playmaker over the Christmas period, and Rasul completed a dramatic U-turn just hours before the side’s Teeline Cup Final second leg.
Any doubts over Rasuls’s commitment were quelled as the midfielder marked his return to the side with a goal in Print’s 10-5 victory over Broadcast last night.
Rasul hands in transfer request
Rasul joined MA Print in September
MA Print midfielder Zarif Rasul has handed in a transfer request, Eddycrane.com understands.
The 22-year-old has blamed the club’s lack of ambition for his decision to leave. He is also understood to be homesick.
Rasul has gone back to London for Christmas and has said he has no intention of returning to Sheffield.
A statement released by the player’s representative said: “Zarif has made it clear to staff at MA Print that he has played his last game for the club. He is upset by broken promises made to him by the club’s management, and will be leaving the club in January.”
Rasul’s last appearance for the Shorthanders came during their 7-6 Teeline Cup defeat to local rivals MA Broadcast last month.
The diminutive midfielder joined MA Print from Ruislip Rudeboys last summer. Rasul enjoyed a fruitful two-year spell at the West London side, picking up two league titles and one Teeline South Cup, as well as the JFA Golden Boot award twice.
FIVE Things I learned from watching Arsenal v Chelsea
Arsenal 3 – 1 Chelsea, 27th December 2010
A rampant Arsenal finally ended their blue hoodoo, beating a lacklustre Chelsea for the first time since November 2008. Goals from Alex Song, Cesc Fabregas and Theo Walcott during a scintillating ten-minute period secured three precious points for the Gunners, with Branislav Ivanovic’s 56th minute header the only sour note for Arsene Wenger and his side.
Here are FIVE things I learned from watching Arsenal v Chelsea.
Arsenal’s prolific midfield
The omission of Maroune Chamakh from Arsenal’s starting line-up was a decision that utterly baffled me prior to the game. Chamakh’s conventional centre-forward attributes, namely his aerial ability and strength, have provided Arsenal with a Plan B this season and a more combative outlet up front. Given that Chelsea’s centre-back pairing of Terry and Ivanovic is one of the most physical in the league, a starting berth for Chamakh seemed to be the most logical choice. This belief was further vindicated after witnessing Robin van Persie drop extremely wide and extremely deep for large periods of the game prior to the game’s first goal.
However, Van Persie’s selection was clearly invoked to complement Arsenal’s greatest strength – their prolific midfield. Van Persie’s movement frequently created space for the likes of Fabregas and Samir Nasri to exploit.
All three Gunners’ goals were scored by players definable as midfielders; indeed eight different midfielders have all scored for Arsenal this season. Alex Song, the side’s designated anchorman, has now scored 5 goals in 21 outings this season.
Chelsea completely lost the midfield battle
Before the game much was made of Frank Lampard’s return to Chelsea’s starting line-up. Whilst the talismanic midfielder can blame his display on a lack of fitness, questions must be asked about his colleagues in the centre of the park. Michael Essien was strangely subdued, John Obi Mikel was utterly inept, and his replacement Ramires continued a one-man mission to look like the worst use of £18m the world has ever seen.
In addition to failing to contain Jack Wilshere and Cesc Fabregas, Essien played a part in two of Arsenal’s goals. The Ghanaian failed to close down Wilshere for the first goal, before cheaply giving away possession prior to the second goal.
A cornerstone of Chelsea’s success last season was their awesome supremacy, dominance and power in the middle of the park. Carlo Ancelotti will need to instil this determination and strength again if his side are to climb up the table.
Defensive woes
Chelsea’s last 10 games, in which the Blues have managed just two victories, has seen manager Carlo Ancelotti use five different centre-back pairings. Although the Stamford Bridge side have conceded the least number of goals in the Premier League, there is no doubt that this uncertainty in defence has contributed to their recent poor form.
Do Arsenal finally have the stones?
After watching their drab display at Old Trafford two weeks ago, I must confess that I was less than convinced about Arsenal’s ability to mount a serious title challenge. They looked overawed, outmuscled and out of their depth.
However, tonight they were determined, driven and in possession of the mental strength that has been missing over the past few years. It seems that Arsene Wenger has finally managed to marry his principles and policies with the belief needed to turn his side into serious contenders.
Where do they go from here?
Bearing in mind Chelsea’s unbelievable start to the season, it’s hard to tell whether their form over the last ten games is a mere blip, or symptomatic of a deep-rooted malaise.
I cannot remember the last time I saw a midfield featuring Frank Lampard and Michael Essien so easily overrun and outmuscled. The mistakes by Essien and Florent Malouda that lead to Arsenal’s second and third goals were so uncharacteristic of a side that have become a byword for efficiency and ruthlessness in recent times.
Chelsea’s success over the last five years has been rooted in their strength in depth. However, a look at their bench this evening highlighted the problems they will face if Roman Abramovich continues to tighten his purse strings.
Abramovich’s new found penchant for austerity and his uncharacteristic desire to turn Chelsea into a self-sufficient side meant that Ancelotti’s bench consisted mainly of unproven youngsters. Indeed four of the players warming Chelsea’s bench (van Aanholt, Bruma, McEachran and Kakuta) had only accumulated 13 Premier League appearances between them.
With Chelsea’s key men not getting any younger, Ancelotti will be hoping his big-name players remain injury-free for the rest of the season.
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