I wrote this article in february 2008, in a dingy hotel/brothel in pondicherry in India, and i've always been proud of its prothesising qualities. its outdated to be sure, but I quite like it. feel free to agree or disagree.

For two years now, one Cristiano Ronaldo has soaked up the plaudits, for his scintillating and often superlative displays of pace, skill and flair. His individual brilliance has not only stamped his authority as one of footballs most precocious talents, but also brought the end product that ended Manchester United’s Premiership drought.
However, perhaps one of the biggest boons of Ronaldo’s headline making has been the shift of the spotlight from United’s other blisteringly hot tempered and sublimely gifted young star. In the midst of Ronaldo’s twists, turns, step-overs, rockets and runs; has been Wayne Rooney, whom if you speak to his manager, has been at the absolute heart of all United are striving to achieve.
Over the years Alex Ferguson’s teams have been renowned for their combination of quick decisive passing, with a genuine physical combativeness that leaves teams breathless. In Ronaldo and Rooney he has two players who embody this style of play. Able to weigh their considerable technical ability against their physical prowess, to both mesmerise and bully their opponents in equal measure.
The last twelve months have seen accolade after accolade fly Ronaldo’s way and rightly so, but the real superstar at United remains Wayne Rooney. Obviously when dealing with two such unerring talents to separate one above the other seems futile, but the selfless, often overzealous, determination of Wayne Rooney to utilise his talents in any way shape or form for the overall benefit of the team, is what sets him aside from his fellow genius.
Rooney is still a mere boy at 22 years of age, yet at such a tender age he has become the standard bearer for Manchester United. As they once did for Roy Keane, it is now Rooney’s war cry that the Red Devils rally to. Not only can Rooney bring a technical awareness to turn a game, but a desire and passion to infect and inspire his teammates. It is etched across his face each time he takes to the field, and his inability to contain this passion, on occasion, will assure him a tarnished disciplinary record until he retires, but this is a small price to pay.
It has often been said a player of Rooney’s calibre should weigh in with more goals, but to measure a player of Rooney’s type in goals is sheer folly. The true measurement of the man is the results united achieve with Rooney against those without. Manchester United has lost five competitive games this season with Wayne Rooney not playing any part in each. The most recent being a 2-1 home collapse against their fierce City rivals. Ryan Giggs was quoted after this performance as saying United must be prepared to “Win ugly”. Recognising they cannot produce their unique brand of firestorm football week in week out, and invariably the title will be decided in those games where you stumble and falter, and never quite put your best football together, yet still find a way to carve out three points. These are the games where you need a talismanic figure to carry you over the finish line. In the case of Manchester United, despite the impossible talents of Cristiano Ronaldo, that talisman is Wayne Rooney. Once again Sir Alex Ferguson (and David Moyes) has nurtured a fantastically raw talent into a brilliant cut diamond with that all important Champion mentality.

A Dose of Unreality

“A Dose of Reality”, seems to be the cliché on the lips of many following England’s- admittedly flawed- victory over Mexico. Although excitement is mounting and World Cup Fever has planted its roots; underneath it all there seems to be an overwhelming national feeling of... well, reality, behind the furore. Yes, England has a line-up of world class talent, Yes we finally have a sensible manager and yes we have Wayne Rooney, but seriously, we’re not really going to win the World Cup, it is England after all. It seems to me that what the nation really needs is a dose of unreality.
The truth is England have deficiencies in most areas of the pitch and on paper the attacking line-ups of Argentina and Spain should tear shreds through what seemed a rather papery back line against Mexico. But the most important truth, is that truth is merely relative.
The truth I choose to believe is that, in the immortal words of Jimmy Greaves, “Football is a funny old game”, and if we hold this epitaph close to our hearts anything is possible. England has actually won the World Cup before, but did Geoff Hurst’s strike truly cross the line. The truth, like 1960’s goal lines, is a shaky business. The sensible conclusion is that England will not win the World Cup and English fans it seems have become a thoroughly sensible bunch.
Now for the dose of unreality: England dispense with the likes of USA, Algeria and Slovenia in unspectacular yet efficient style. Australia proves a sterner second round test than expected, but memories of the Ashes are replayed as we once more win out. With national feeling galvanised we meet our old foes like Harry and The Iron Duke at Agincourt and Waterloo. The French, not being the force they once were, fall at the wayside as we march on to the semis and our first real test. The Brazilians, a defensively solid unit under the guardianship of Dunga, fight out a dour nil all draw. For so long our Achilles heel penalties this time prove our saviour and a final against Argentina awaits. The game is poised, one a piece, five minutes to go, Wayne Rooney, having already cancelled out Messi’s opener with an individual piece of genius, rises to meet Gerrard’s cross, a roar goes up; “Was that his head, it looked like something else”, it matters not the World Cup is ours, and the Gods once again smile upon us. Maybe I just need to get real, but you have to admit it would be nice.

The Road to the World Cup

Its hard to describe the World Cup and the feelings it generates. For me I feel if I began to try I would end up collapsing into an unintelligible set of expletives and hand gestures which would probably get the point across just as well as anything else. Its just something a bit magic. Its genuine history unfolding before your eyes. You know heroes are about to be created, along with notorious villains, and the next two weeks are going to be beautiful and unbearable in equal measure.
I have been travelling the World for the last two and a half years, but never once has my mind strayed far from the Pantheons of Football. From clicking refresh in a dingy Internet cafe in Northern India for two hours to "read" Spurs victory over Chelsea in the Carling Cup Final, to the Man U Chelsea Champions League final in a sweaty shack in Laos. In fact my entire trip around Laos was designed to be in towns/villages which allowed me to watch the Premier League run in, I lie not!
Of course amidst all this has been England's virtually blemish free qualification campaign, and always there in my mind was my return to England after so long on the road, and since our first qualification game I knew my return would be just before this World Cup, for one month of blissfully unemployed football festivities. It is my intention to watch every single minute of action this summer, and pray this could be the summer, THE summer that will be our summer.
I am starting this Blog, mostly to keep myself busy in those dark moments when no football is being played, and also to share my thoughts, opinions and general musings with anyone bored enough to read. This is both the end of a journey for myself and the beginning of a greater one, my first post is a rallying call, to not get caught up in the pesky realities of England's shortcomings but rather embrace what could be.