Are you John Gorman?
By Paul Bretherton, Issue 55, winter 2002
In what I hope will become a regular column,
(no doubt dubbed "Manager Watch" by
our imaginative Ed!), I'll be looking over the
course of the season, and making observations
on the behaviour of opposition Premiership Managers
and the away bench in general, who arrive at Anfield
to pit themselves against Gerard, Phil & Co.
The vantage point from my seat in the Paddock
gives me ample opportunities to watch these fascinating
creatures at work, in their natural habitat. Whether
it be the nonsense spouted at fourth officials
by O'Leary, Ferguson and co, or just the plain
weirdness that is Tottenham's assistant 'coach',
I'll be watching, listening, and reporting back
for you the readers and awarding the winner of
the 'Nark Arses of the year' prize to the winners
(Pity Fat Head's signing on these days, he'd have
nailed it by August hands down!)
West Ham United
Glen 'who' Roeder making his Premiership managerial
debut at Anfield. A nice chap, but one who seemed
totally overawed by the position he's now been
given. Seems to possess as much tactical insight
as me (not very much) but with not half the charisma
(oooh stoppit !) When Di Canio scored and ran
over to 'high five' with Glen, the poor guy seemed
bewildered at what to do and how to react. His
face seemed to be saying, "Wow, Paolo Di
Canio touched me…and I got to slap his arse
in return, wow, I just love this soccer Management!"
(Will probably be sacked before the season's out,
and replaced by Joe Royle…probably.)
Opta Nark rating: 3/10
Aston Villa
It was time for that guitar strumming, semi quiff-wearing
manager, to roll into town next. As usual, he
sported his club blazer, accessorised with a three-quarter-length
rain mac for good measure. Very stylish John.
He always gives the impression, on TV, and in
the dug out, that he'd sooner be somewhere else
though…..like playing his aforementioned
guitar to adoring thousands at rock venues, and
shouting lines on stage like " I can't hear
you Glasgow, Englaaaaand!" He also strangely
wanders around like some wannabe philosopher.
With three fingers supporting his chin, and his
other hand behind his back, he struts the touchline,
like Plato would have done….if Plato had
got into soccer management that is.
Opta Nark rating: 5/10
Spurs
God himself (hallelujah,… hallelujah hallejuah)
with his sidekick Eyegore. There's no doubting
that Hoddle has a 'tactical insight' into the
modern game, but what of John Gorman? If there
was ever somebody riding this Premier League gravy
train, then this guy's one of them. He must be
black and blue from pinching himself, amazed that
he's not been found out yet. Lord, he even got
to the position of England No.2, on Glen's coat
tails, and that is a truly frightening thing.
Maybe he has got the necessary coaching badges,
to justifiably wave two fingers in my direction,
and maybe my views on him have been clouded ever
since the first time I spotted him on a video
chronicling Swindon Town's early nineties promotion
to the top flight. I'll describe it for you. Hoddle
has just had his say to the team, prior to a crunch
Easter fixture and asked Gorman to give a final
talk whilst he popped outside…maybe for a
pee or a prayer, I don't know which. Anyway, Gorman's
talk went something along the lines of: "Right
lads, forget the talk and the chat, let's have
a pre-match sing together, okay boys?" (Eh???,
a pre match sing?… puts our huddle to shame)
and so he began. "Hail, hail, the Town are
here, what the hell do we care, what the hell
do we care" etc etc etc . Anybody not singing
loud enough was given a slap around the head,
and a wagging fist shoved in their face. I don't
know what was funnier, picturing club chairman
up and down the country, mentally scratching his
name from all future job possibilities, bar Everton
of course, or Celtic fans foaming at the mouth,
having their song hijacked by Swindon Town, SWINDON
TOWN indeed! Come this September's game he'd not
changed one bit. He watched Hoddle closely, and
mimicked every single move he made. Whether it
was the shouts, the strange hand gestures, the
leaps into the air, he was a constant mirror image
of his boss, but to be fair to him this time,
he didn't sing. The man is a complete fraud. One
helluva moustache though.
Opta Nark rating:3/10
Leeds United
David O'Leary with the Les Battersby soundalike
as his No 2. Sensible, rational and balanced points
of view of the game O'Leary sprouts, but only
so long as they win of course. It's maybe a bit
harsh to criticise the man in view of what happened
that day and his touching reaction to his friendship
with Gerard, but what the hell, he's having it!
With Ferguson on his way to collecting a GM Bus
pass, and learning the craft that is crown green
bowling, Dublin's biggest whinge is attempting
to oust him as the playground bully. He constantly
berated the officials throughout the game, and
made a lot of disturbing punching movements with
his hands, aided and abetted by his trusted lieutenant,
Les. When Bowyer ballooned that chance late on,
he made a leap for the touchline, only to see
the ball fly high over the bar. He scuffed his
knees on the floor, and held his head in his hands.
When he looked up, a few people pointed out, myself
included, that his trousers were in a state of
disrepair, and of course, that the score was still
one each. He responded by blowing kisses back
to us. One of my strangest moments of football
viewing it was.
Opta Nark Rating: 9/10
Manchester United
I'll quote from the Oxford English If I may;
The Devil; Satan. 2. One of the fallen angels
in Milton's Paradise Lost. Beelzebub (Martin Edwards)
was next to Satan in power. 3. An evil spirit;
a demon. Nuff said people. Well, they're not called
the Red Devils for nothing y'know. In all seriousness,
I've never seen a United bench quieter than in
this season's fixture. Even Fergie couldn't motivate
them from down there in the 2nd half, not that
he made much effort really, they were being well
beaten and he knew it. A pity really, we wanted
to see him leaving kicking and screaming down
the tunnel on his last visit, jabbing his finger
at the referee's chest, and showing him his watch.
Still, we can all wait to reacquaint ourselves
at Hampden in May can't we? (oooh puhleaseeeeeee!)
Opta Nark Rating: 4/10 ! unbelievable but true!
Sunderland
PG Tips meets the Wolf Man. Nooo, not some 30's
horror film featuring Lon Chaney, but our very
own Peter Reid. He bawled, he moaned, he spat
chewy, he told Tommo to f**k off,… twice
in fact (over the crazy sending off as I recall).
'Inchy' Heath was very animated too, but he was
a lot harder to spot, even though he was wearing
his four-inch platform trainers. And even harder
to understand. Most dogs in fact would struggle
to understand his high pitched tones. The two
of them were accompanied by a very old, angry
looking man, whose every rant and rave, truly
belonged to a bygone era of football coaching.
I can't remember his name, but you could have
plucked him out of any British Legion back room
(playing dominoes I suspect), stuck him in a trackie,
sat him on the bench, and told him to wave his
arms around and shout a lot (hmmm, definitely
a domino player) Nobody would have batted an eyelid
as to whether he should be there or not. And I
would just LOVE to see him on Chelsea's training
pitch, because the man was a pure ego bruiser.
"Ehhhh, Zooolaaa, drop to the floor…..
NOW !…. twenty f*********g press ups …then
put the nets up" The Sunderland players didn't
take too much notice of him really, who is he
by the way? Definite contenders for 'Angriest
Bench Narks of the year' award this season.
Opta Nark Rating:10/10
Middlesbrough
Steve McClaren was extremely quiet, just like
his mentor was a few weeks previously. He's also
developing some fantastic ruddy cheeks, just like
Alex. Is that something else he's picked up from
his time at Old Trafford I wonder? Oh, and no
Viv Anderson or Gordon McQueen anymore, no wonder
they've been struggling. Where did they go? Were
they poached by a UEFA technical panel 'think
tank'? Answers on a postcard please.
Opta Nark Rating:0/10
Fulham
Sat in the Main Stand for this one, and let my
seat up for a mate's girlfriend. He said she was
autograph hunting, they were more likely snogging
each other in truth. At least it kept them warm,
something which I would have killed for. Can't
remember too much about this one as I was just
trying to concentrate on not ending up like Jack
Nicholson at the end of The Shining. It was the
only time since being in the infants that I've
sat on my hands for such a long period of time.
I honestly expected that I would be featuring
in the next series of 999 and Michael Buerk's
voice was spinning in my head thereafter. "It
was an ordinary Premier League fixture at Anfield
in December. He had drank numerous pints of beer
before the game, and as any doctor will tell you,
this can be a lethal combination, if mixed with
over exposure to the freezing elements. He was
also, foolishly, wearing highly inappropriate
clothing for the time of year. Paul Bretherton,
incidentally, is played by an actor". Boy,
was I glad when that final whistle sounded, and
I limped on my frostbitten stumps back to the
car. As for any observations of the opposition,
I was reliably informed by said friend that Tigana
made a lot of Gallic hand and facial gestures
throughout the game, as he chewed nervously on
a large toothpick, just like Columbo, in fact,
but without the brown overcoat. Brrrrrrrrr!
Opta Nark Rating:1/10 apparently
Arsenal
Arsene Wenger yet again was wearing that sensible
jacket complete with sensible hood. When you discover
that he designed the club's new training facilities,
from the dimensions of the sauna's through to
the canteen cutlery, it's obvious that he also
has a say on his own jacket specifications. Probably
on the advice of his mother. After all, what mother
wants her son stood on a touchline in all conditions,
exposed to the elements, without a good waterproof
hood for protection I ask you? He's no different
to the rest of us you know! The only problem is
that it tends to blinker his viewpoint……on
almost everything. Like a poor disciplinary record
for instance. ry pulling it back a little bit,
Arsene and smell the roses occasionally please.
When Lauren justifiably received the first yellow,
he was up, wagging his finger and shaking his
head at the linesman, admittedly in a quite 'right
on' manner. but it was still pretty laughable.
I've seen some people intimidating the officials
over the years, and at times to be honest, I've
been grateful that I've not been running the line.
But when Van Bronkhurst walked, watching Wenger
being restrained by Pat Rice was one of the best
comedy sketches I've seen in a long time. A bespectacled
dwarf with a bowl hair cut, throwing his arms
around a poker faced grey haired man, twice his
size and wearing a hood, was worth the admission
money alone. (Well the football was crap wasn't
it, and it gave me a laugh in an otherwise depressing
day). Regarding the sending off incident, the
Arsenal physio leapt to the cameraman next to
the tunnel, demanding to see a replay of the incident,
and surprise, surprise, the fourth official did
absolutely nothing about this, apart from view
it himself. The physio bawled at the linesman
"He slipped, he just f***ing slipped, look
at it!!,…that's f***ing outrageous linesman...
OUTRAGEOUS" and finished by kicking the sponge
bucket…all over Pat Rice. Ooooooh get him
indeed! (blame it on the panto season)
Opta Nark Rating:9/10
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