What a start to the season. A new intake of F**kwit contenders turning in stonking performances, led by the likes of Manchester United keeper David De Gea (Top tip: it's a ball - you catch it) and what passes as a defence in those parts of West London that favour hoops over stripes. And a whole bunch of F**kwit veterans putting in a credible opening day performance, inspired as so often by the irrepressible (insert your own extra adjective here) Joey Barton.
As our Expert Panellists put the finishing touches to their scoresheets, here are two of our match highlights:
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West Brom 1 Manchester United 2
The return of the Premier League can only mean one thing: Super Sunday Jamie Redknapp bingo! Markers at the ready.... Shiny M&S suit? Check. Sitting with legs so far apart you can see what he had for breakfast? Check. Blocked sinuses? Check. “I fink this lad’s a top, top player - what you reckon, Gal?”. HOUSE!
Indeed, Redknapp has been joined in the studio this season by Sky’s new recruit, Gary Neville, who sat primed and poised - teenage moustache glistening on his top lip - waiting patiently to analyse the performance of his former club at the Hawthorns.
And if Mr. Neville were still playing at the back for Manchester United, his half-time ire would surely be trained on United’s new goalkeeper, David De Gea. The pinnacle of first half f**kwittery saw the Spaniard floundering as a tame Shane Long effort squeezed past him for West Brom’s equaliser. As he rose from the floor, crushed, he mouthed the word “puta” in anger. (I’ll let Google translate that for you - this is, after all, a family website).
The ‘keeper generally flapped at crosses and showed little command of his box throughout. “He’s ‘avin a ‘mare”, cried Redknapp at half-time. “And he’s picked up a good few f**kwit points in the process”, he didn’t add. Two points for the goal assist and the gong for Most Disappointing player for De Gea.
In other first half action, Wayne Rooney opened the scoring for United, nutmegging Gabriel Tamas in the process (1pt assist), and Nani (x2), Paul Scharner, James Morrison, Ashley Young and Chris Brunt racked up points for poor misses.
The second half was as poor from a F**kwit perspective as the first half was productive; points were thinner on the ground than a pre-transplant Rooney bonce. The only real points came as Young’s shot pinged off Andy Reid’s shin for an own goal, but not before it deflected off Tamas, who also picked up a point assist.
Reid, Scharner, Anderson and Young all picked up bookings for non-memorable challenges, but Simon Cox left fans tutting as he picked up a booking for an elegant swan-dive on the edge of the United box.
By Gareth Evans
Stoke 0 Chelsea 0
Ah, Stoke, the apex of the football world, the point that separates legends from pretenders to the throne. Stoke, with its famous wetness and, uh, nightness. Yes, Stoke. That place.
So it was at the Britannia that Portuguese new boy André Villas-Boas turned up for the first step in his quest to conquer English football and become one of the sport’s fabled managers. English blood? Check. Flawless command of the language? Check. Razor-sharp new suit and haircut? Check. Reinvigorated squad? There’s still two weeks, right?
The Chelsea manager surely knew, as we all do by now, what to expect with Tony Pulis’ long-ball Potters. And, if not, the narrative of the match was established in the first ten minutes: Jonathan Walters worrying the Chelsea defense, Fernando Torres (yeah, him) harrying the Stoke defense, both teams beating the shit out of each other in between, and referee Mark Halsey (who the commentators described, repeatedly and without apparent irony, as having an “eagle eye”) ignoring most of the fouls. Repeat until a draw happens or ninety minutes are up, whichever comes last.
The sides gave it a go with some fair strikes, misses, tackles, and blocks, but nothing worth f**kwitting home about. Notwithstanding a 25th-minute glimpse of Roberto Mancini wearing a comical jacket in the crowd, Halsey and his alleged bird vision, in fact, offered most of the entertainment. Though every set piece looked like Fight Club or a typical day with Joey Barton, he waved off frequent appeals for cautions and penalties from Torres, Ryan Shawcross, Ashley Cole, Jonathan Woodgate (yeah, him), John Terry, and, notably, Frank Lampard. Eventually, he carded Shawcross, Cole, and Marc Wilson for physical challenges after earlier warnings, finally proving that eagles can see yellow, after all.
Despite what many F**kwit team managers anticipated, the most disappointing player was not Fernando Torres. Instead, it was an average Frank Lampard, whose inability to impose himself on the action extended to Eagle-Eye Halsey ignoring his penalty shout in the 55th minute. The midfielder then closed out proceedings with a late yellow for crankily throwing away the ball on a Stoke free kick, earning him points not just for the booking, but for doing so in a f**kwitted fashion. Good job, Lamps, but could you do it on a wet night…okay, okay.
By Kelley Kawano
August 20, 2011