Monster

So here we are, as Bloc Party sang (one for the kids).
Teetering on the brink of joining Handel’s classical piece (apparently Tony Britten wrote it but we know the truth), it’s been difficult to take stock this season. It been tumultuous, surprising, rubbish, brilliant, bewildering. The bookies have had a whale of a time (therefore Japanese bookies must be living the dream).
Such a strange set of results, let alone title contenders, tipped into a melting pot of “last seasonism”, the Black Friday style rush for OS season tickets, Slaven kissing men and half n half scarfs for the Tottenham (really, I mean WTAF?).
A measure of the drama is that I’ve literally not been able to write a Monty. The gift that keeps on given has dried up and presented me with an awful dilemma. A wonderful young, charismatic and tactically astute manager, leading a team of similar characteristics. B*stards.
Of course, we have regained some sense of old West Ham with at least ¾ of our available centre halves being injured in time for an FA Cup Q-F. My worry is Slav will merely introduce promising youngsters into an already confident side, or formulate a system of such intelligence and creativity even commentators notebooks cannot fathom the code. Next thing you know he’ll have us at Wembley in the sunshine. What sort of monster is he?
Signing these foreigners has particularly annoyed me (old ones at that – 28 year old Frenchman, where’s the sell on value?). Stopping our talented youngsters from coming through. As if to rub our noses in it, one of them then takes a London POTY award from a genuine English talent (Dele Ali) – and we are happy with this? Bet Slav is…..git.
What’s the betting the Frenchie win HOTY too? Next thing you know our anthem will be La Marseillaise and it’ll be snails and onion soup on the concourse at the OS (careful what you wish for).
Of course this could all be a flash in the pan too. We had 35% possession against Tottenham (champions elect don’t you know?). So technically they played us off the park. Their loud raucous fans will tell you so. Of course our manager was too busy kissing his star striker (as a warm up for hairier men later no doubt).
I guess your all too busy crying about Nobles non-inclusion in the England squad (come on, he’s no Drinkwater or Cleverly, man up) to notice, or laughing at Antonio’s dance routines – which, by the way, is completely ungentlemanly act and one the FA should come down hard on.
In fairness all of our wins against the top 6 have been more by luck than judgement. At one point all of these teams have missed key players, or had to play 3 games in a week, not to mention the alignment of the planets being wildly out of kilter for each of these fixtures, causing a gravitational pull away from our goal. You can argue with science.
So as you all regale in your claret specs, smiling and riding on your wave of crests, just think of the car crash our esteemed leader is leading us toward. Big Sam continue to lead Sunderland with authority and respect. We can only admire from afar now.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.