Beef Bagel

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Bit of a filthy dive really, wasn’t it? I’ve always liked the facts that we’ve a) never had players that take dives and b) that our MJ is right and proper and always tells the truth but yesterday’s incident has thrown both of these into as much question as Arsene Wenger caught in a boys’ school dormitory with nothing but some peep-hole lederhosen and a jar of lemon curd to hide his shame. When asked what twelve year old Wallace ‘Porky’ Holden is doing at his feet, grey flannel shorts and stripy games socks around his ankles and covered in the sticky conserve he replies,

‘Er….I did not see it. No, I was simply hungry for a midnight snack and I mistook him for a piece of toast and this boarding school room as my kitchen, even though it is over 15 miles away.’

It’s a slippery slope from yesterday’s penalty furor to a place of zero credibility. Slippery, partly due to the fact that it’s the results that count and partly from the jam trail left by Wenger. The real shocker about this is that The Bagel doesn’t really care. I’m just relieved, as I’m sure you all are, to get those three points. A draw would have tasted considerably more bitter than these cheating claims and I must confess that it’s actually quite amusing watching the likes of Pedro Mendes and Harry Redknapp up in arms about it.

I do or actually, I did feel sorry for Pedro. He’s had a hell of a time over here; injuries, the unnoticed wonder goal against United, being ejected from Tottenham and of course being used as a human surfboard by Ben Thatcher. He made absolutely no contact to concede that penalty. He did everything right up until the interview when he encured The Bagel’s wrath on two counts. Firstly, by claiming that Portsmouth played better than we did…er…excuse me Pedro! Which game were you playing in? How many meaningful shots did you lot have on target compared to the Lillywhites? If it wasn’t for David James and I can’t believe I’m saying this, it would have been three or four goals to your one. So, stick that in your scummy blue, fish smelling shirt and smoke it.

The other is by later blaming us and MJ of all people for not playing in the World Cup.

“I am totally convinced my absence in Germany with Portugal was down to my stay at Spurs,”

“I was left out by the coach without explanations. It’s really incomprehensible.”

Yeah, I understand. If I had a midfield of Deco, Tiago, Ronaldo and Maniche, the next name in my mind would be Pedro Mendes. Aren’t those players always mentioned in the same breath? Likewise whilst at Spurs, why on earth was Mendes overlooked in favour of Carrick, Lennon, Jenas, Davids and Huddlestone? I mean, they’re all rubbish.

Ok, deep breath. Tirade over. I have a lot of sympathy for Mendes but he makes it hard for me when he makes bitter, reactionary comments.

Besides, the real matter is that clearly cheated. He anticpated the tackle but it was the look of pain on his face that made it clear he was going for the Academy Award. I would rather he’d been straight with MJ and said, ‘Sorry boss, it was a dive.’ To avoid the crap that we then had to watch fall from the big man’s lips but well, that’s football for you. On the plus side, I feel like a top club now that shadey decisions go our way and our manager has to back cheating players. Perhaps we’ll begin to reap the same success.

Yesterday’s game did not come without its price, however. Berbatov, Defoe and Stalteri may be back but a calf injury to Chimbondabonda is going to see him out for a week and filthy Campbell managed to take out two of our players in one fell swoop with his cast iron head. Frankly, it was as impressive as it was devastating. Our two biggest players left dazed on the grass, one concussed the other with a ripped shirt and in need of a hero’s bandage or ‘foreskin’ as the Pompey faithful referred to it and yet Sol gets up and walks away like he’s had a massage.

Thankfully, these injuries should all be fairly brief and thankfully we’ve got the international break coming up for a little well earned rest. I know how the players feel. I’ve had strap a liquid nitrogen water jacket to my head and ice cubes to finger tips to stop my body overheating. I look rather like an arthritic Cyberman. Those match reports can take some time. Speaking of which, expect the Pompey write up tomorrow, featuring special guest star, Toby the Yid. Got to move to the new Bakery this afternoon. Ovens to lift, bread to carry, many, many bagels to sort.

Lastly in today’s news post (I’ll bung in a transfer one a bit later, pun intended) it looks like West Ham have tightened their grip a little further around the rights to the Olympic Stadium. It’s still unclear as to whether they have to maintain the athletics track or not but if that’s even a slight issue, then they’re more than welcome to their eternity of a soulless stadium, where their team will never feel the support, the crowd will never see the game and slowly but surely the club will be relegated into obscurity.

‘West Ham United? Who are they?’

‘Excatly! Get off!’

‘Gimmie sum!’

‘Get Off!’

Let’s make like a tree and bagel.

The Bagel.

This entry was posted on Monday, October 2nd, 2006 at 1:31 pm and is filed under Bagel News. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.