Barely 'up for the Cup'

This afternoon, the first post-season Saturday for lower league fans, presented three choices. Watch an uninspiring nothing-at-stake Hibernian versus Aberdeen clash down the street at Easter Road (and pay £22 for the privilege). Watch the Stoke City versus Manchester City FA Cup Final on the telly (a ringside seat, but with ITV's irritating ineptitude twittering away). Or, well, get a life and enjoy Edinburgh's beaming sunshine.

Being a fitba man my "life quotient" was bound to be the one that suffered (after a coffee with friends in the morning and quick step-out to the legendary Christian Aid booksale), so here I am in front of the TV - cheering Stoke on.

I had to spend a bit of time deciding which, of two English teams I don't spend much time thinking about, I would back. You just have to support somebody. I know more Man City supporters, but with respect to them and their Club's determination to end a 35-year silverware drought, I cannot but lend my voice to the Potteries' underdogs. They really want the historic Cup, whereas many Sky Blues have spent the week saying that it isn't nearly as important as qualifying for the European Champions League or winning the English Premier League on the back of their new-found billions. That's very hard to sympathise with as a neutral, let alone a backer of a 'diddy team'.

"Fair enough," I find myself saying. "Let someone who actually appreciates this Cup's irreplaceable value and history win it, then!"

Meanwhile, Manchester City manager Carlo Mancini has singularly failed to convince anyone that it really matters to him either, other than as a means of avoiding the elbow. Besides, Manchester United are liable to upstage City this afternoon by winning the EPL, whatever happens at Wembley. So why not let the boys from Stoke achieve a dream far more unimaginable in the (post)modern era?

So far it's been an interesting, gutsy but not over-thrilling game, 0-0 at half-time. Stoke are struggling to keep up, but defending well. Manchester City - who at least have the distinction of being the only EPL side truly from Manchester [discuss!] - have missed a couple of good chances, but will probably get more. We'll see.

Ah, for the days when the FA Cup really was the highlight of the football calendar in England, and produced a whole day of magic...

Footnote [17.04]: In spite of all that - well done to Manchester City, and all those who are genuinely thrilled.  Someone in Manchester has won something at last *cough*. 
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Newcastle's sackload of shame

Hughton: betrayed by midgets

Do Newcastle deserve Chris Hughton as their manager, I asked back on 28 October? It hasn't taken long to find out that, as we suspected, they don't. To their credit, the fans have rallied in disgust against his sacking yesterday. So have some of the players. Not that this will change anything. Owner Mike Ashley and his cohorts have no shame, no morals to speak of, and no sense either, it appears.

The BBC's Phil McNulty has summed up the whole sorry saga in a biting and well-argued piece. His first two sentences encapsulate the situation perfectly: "Chris Hughton has brought dignity, stability and a respectable Premier League placing to Newcastle United - so it should be no surprise that his reward from owner Mike Ashley is the sack. It sums up the twisted, madcap logic of a club that seems only comfortable with chaos and a hierarchy that has a vastly inflated sense of Newcastle's standing in the game."

Hopefully, Hughton will soon be back in work with a club that merits him. As for NUFC's current rulers, few outside their side's own support will now weep if they pay for another despicable act (remember how they treated Bobby Robson?) in points and places. Far better, however, would be if fan power could emerge to mount a coherent challenge to Ashley & Co, claiming the club back for decency and genuine football pride. That would be a much better outcome than being appeased and bought off with another fatuous "name" appointment. Which is what Ashley is gambling on.
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More lows than highs at the Valley

Charlton press the Bristol Rovers goalmouth

A spell down in London for work purposes provided the opportunity for a bit of League One football research. My preference would have been to accompany my friend Kevin Scully on Leyton Orient's trip to Peterborough (which ended 2-2). But with the costs of that trip looking a little high, and needing to be up early the next morning, I opted for another visit to the Valley, this time to see second-placed Charlton Athletic take on Bristol Rovers. It's certainly an impressive ground for this level of football. Indeed my first visit there a few years ago was when the Addicks were in the Premier League and managed by Alan Curbishley. That day they were facing a Portsmouth side under the tutelage of Harry Redknapp. How times and fortunes change.

This time that game didn't really match up to the venue. But a cold night and some plodding progress (or lack of it) on the pitch was enlivened by the passion and banter of a seat high and behind the goal at the home end. It's safe to say CUFC don't have much time for Millwall, as if you needed telling! Anyway, Charlton had more of the first half, though it was hard to see how anyone was going to achieve a breakthrough. Rovers' Wayne Brown finally broke the deadlock on 63 minutes, blasting the Southwest visitors into the lead with an assist from Ben Swallow. Had Bristol held on, it would have been their first win at the Valley since 1958, the year that I was born. But it was not to be. Charlton's Paul Benson eagerly took the chance provided for him by Kyel Reid to make it 1-1 thirteen minutes from time. And that's how the score remained. An enjoyable if less-than-scintillating evening.
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Do Newcastle deserve Chris Hughton?

More managerial shenanigans. No, I'm not talking about Jim Chapman at Dumbarton (I'll come to that later), but the media-fuelled rumours swirling around Newcastle United that manager Chris Hughton might be forced out. There has always been a phalanx at NUFC who, with an inflated sense of their own importance, believe that - in spite of the incredible job Hughton did in delivering them from the second division, and his creditable consolidation of the side in the English Premier League - they deserve a "bigger name" to produce Champions League Football. Probably by the week after next.

This is little short of pathetic. Chris Hughton is a skilled, hard-working and decent man. His team are ninth in the EPL, just four points off the top five. That's a very solid achievement indeed. The Newcastle board have tonight come out with an uninspiring statement of support for their gaffer - one which simply says that he remains their manager (you don't say!) and that... wait for it... his contract will be reviewed at the end of the year. No hint that he can stay longer term. So, after all he's done, the poor chap is still on probation.

If they do get rid of him, the club will sink even further in the estimation of those who think that a sense of perspective (let alone gratitude to a manager who rescued them from their last two, disastrous, "star appointments") is part of what makes a football club deserving. Not an overweening sense of entitlement. Do Newcastle United deserve Chris Hughton?  That's what's really at stake here.
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Grounds of hope

Rock steady crew

Over the years I've bumped into a number of 'ground hoppers' at Dumbarton games, mostly with English accents. On the train from Glasgow over to the Rock yesterday I met up with Roy and Gary [pictured],  who had made the journey from Cheshire. They have visited all the professional grounds south of the border and are now catching up with a few in Scotland. Unfortunately, they'd never had the pleasure of Boghead Park - but had to admit that SHS has one of the most pituresque settings in British football (being biased, I'd say the  most attractive), even if the game against Airdrie United was far from pretty at times. At least you can catch a glimpse of Sons' old home in the 2001 film (made in 1999) A Shot at Glory, lads. Available in all good DVD bargain bins.

Incidentally, Gary and Roy's home side Crewe Alexandra had a rather special day on 2 October 2010. While they were watching Dumbarton lose to the Diamonds, the Railwaymen (apparently named after a pub bearing Princess Alexandra's name) were involved in a ten-goal thriller at Chesterfield, eventually drawing 5-5. That's the kind of action we hope for down the Rock. 7-3 would be better, of course.
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Close to the action

My midweek venture to Dagenham & Redbridge, to see old locals Exeter City the other night, meant a well-located seat in the Marcus James Stand at what used to be called the Glyn Hopkin Stadium, is now the even more prosaic London Borough of Barking and Dagenham Stadium, and is still known by many East London fans as Victoria Road. In an unexpected act of generosity, the Daggers let the away support use the newest and best part of their ground, out of which the plastic and canvas players' tunnel is extended... ensuring that the home team arrive onto the pitch to a rousing chorus of boos. Curious. Still, you get a very good behind-the-goal view, hence my small snippet of video action. Sadly, it isn't possible to get a shot like this at Dumbarton. Thankfully, though, many second and third division Scottish grounds still have terraces you can wander around. My first choice is to be able to patrol the ground and view proceedings on the pitch from a number of angles during the course of the game. Failing that, pleasant modern facilities such as those at Dagenham are just fine. Mind you, they charged £22 for the privilege, Ouch! I know you need the money, but it's only League One you're in, fellas...
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A Boxing Day outing to Loftus Road

Staying in Bethnal Green over Christmas, and hosted by a Leyton Orient fan who had decided that a 1pm away kick-off in Brighton (at the unappealing Withdean Stadium) was too much for Boxing Day, we instead found ourselves proceeding down the Central Line in search of alternative football entertainment. White City it was, then: the nearest tube stop to Queen's Park Rangers' famous Loftus Road ground. The assignment was a Championship match pitting QPR against Bristol City (also poised tantalisingly outside the play-off zone, with both sides eyeing the ultimate prize: a Premier League spot).

The ground itself is pleasantly comfortable, if archetypally boxy. A not-insubstantial thirty quid purchased seats with a great site-line at the corner of the ground. The tea was the best I've tasted at a football match for some time -- though the cheese and onion pasty is better passed over. Unusually, the PA system was crystal clear (if a bit deafening when music was booming out of the speakers), and the ground also boasts video replay screens. Not one for hard-line puritans and purists, I guess; but, for me, a welcome bonus.

To the game itself. The first fifteen minutes were tentative and lacking in shape and quality. Then things took off, with both sides making penetrating runs and developing a fast passing game. On the half hour QPR took the lead after Fitz Hall (who rejoices in the nickname 'One Size') crossed in for Jay Simpson to score with a sweet strike after an uncertain first touch. The home side were in the ascendancy now, and nine minutes letter added a second goal from Mikele Leigertwood, with a well curved twenty yarder.

Following the break, QPR started to lose the plot. Some 12 minutes into the second period Bristol City's Nicky Maynard pulled one back for the visitors with a stunning strike -- surely the goal of the day. Gratifyingly, the Rangers fans around me responded with generous applause. Who says good grace has gone out of the game altogether? City had now found their pace and continued to torment their opponents until QPR's new manager Paul Hart (this was his first home game) decided to shut up shop, bringing on two left backs and throwing six across the back.

The home fans reacted with fury, throwing "You don't know what you're doing" and "We're supposed to be at home" back at the gaffer. The last quarter of an hour was full of tension, as the Robins pressed forward and QPR looked uneasy on the back foot. After a torrid time at Premier League basement side Portsmouth, and inheriting a Rangers team with big ambitions but no wins in five games, it seems that Hart was desperate for victory. And that he achieved, if only to leave the field with louder boos than cheers ringing in his ears. Queens Park Rangers fans want positive football as well as positive results, it seems. (However, their subsequent attempt to combine both ended up with a 3-0 thumping at Ipswich, so they may have to adjust their expectations).

Altogether this was a good, if not cheap, day out for the neutral observer. For me it was also the second time I'd watched a side with "Queens" and "Park" in their name inside ten days. One for the curiosity file, that.

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Football in extremis

Since Dumbarton's home tie against Alloa was called off, a few Sons fans decided to make the trek to Hampden Park in Glasgow instead, to catch the only surviving lower league game of the day last Saturday -- Queens Park against Montrose. My compatriots were not mightily impressed by the game, though I've seen far worse myself. You could certainly see why both sides are struggling in the lower reaches of the SFL Third Division at the moment. Indeed, the Gable Endies have not won a game all season so far and are rooted firmly to the foot of the table. That didn't change on 19 December 2009, as Queens came out 3-2 victors in a match which lacked much shape or inspiration, but which thankfully benefited from several pretty good goals --- including a wondrous 25-yard last-minute strike from the Angus visitors' Daryl Nicol. That gave the home side a bit of a late panic, but Montrose ran out of time and in any case never looked like capitalising on the fleeting sight of a point.

As you'll see from the picture, the match was conducted in freezing conditions and at times it was rather like watching a two patterns of ants chasing an orange pea through a green maze. Shortly before kick-off, which was delayed by 15 minutes, there was a sudden snow flurry which almost put the fixture in peril. A wilder storm from the same weather configuration led to the last-minute abandonment of Hamilton Accies versus Dundee United in the SPL, apparently.

Meanwhile, of the 50,000 seats available at Hampden, only 397 were occupied for this fourth level encounter. Davie, Denise, Tommy (pictured below) and I were in what was in theory the 'away end', though segregation is hardly rigorous. My huge rucksack wasn't even searched when we went through the turnstiles. Unthinkable down south. As the game reached its denouement I calculated that we Sons fans amounted to getting on for 20 per cent of those present in the away section of the ground! Surreal. The half-time tea and pie were much needed as the cold began to bite, too. I was fortunate enough to be able to sneak into the loo during the break to put on my thermals. It was still extremity freezing for the next 45 minutes. Altogether a "real football experience" of the sort that those not enchanted with the game often fail to understand, but which those of us with it coursing through our veins somehow manage to relish in a perverse way.

For me the additional interest of the match was that it was actually the first live game I'd seen in the new(ish) national stadium. I've been to Hampden on several occasions to take in the Scottish Football History museum and the stadium tour, but I've never got to a Scotland game or cup event there: or indeed a Spiders home match until this one. That in spite of knowing at least one Queens supporter, a former college room-mate called Paul Bladworth. (If you happen to chance across this post, Paul, do drop me a line, as I have lost your address.) I must say I greatly prefer New Hampden to New Wembley, which is architecturally splendid but rather soulless. I duly resolved to try to get to a Scotland home game under new boss Craig Levein, who I believe is going to do as well as anyone could reasonably expect given limited resources and the sorry state of the Scottish game at the moment.

As a footnote, I should add that, at £2 a go, Queens Park's programme is undoubtedly one of the best in the lower leagues these days -- both in colourful presentation and in well-written and well-edited content.

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Painting the town red

While my locals Exeter City were unfortunately losing out on penalties to Swindon Town in the Johnstone's Paint Trophy (surely the most boringly prosaic football award name since the dire Milk Cup, which sounded like something you might have lost in the playground) I was up in London. This meant that I could catch Leyton Orient at home to Brighton and Hove Albion in the same competition, thanks to the promoting of my friend Kevin Scully. Here's a snap just before kick-off from my iPhone. It was a really entertaining little match, with some good skill on display and quite a few near misses. The Os grabbed the honours within a whisper of time-added-on, much to the chagrin of the vocal visiting support. Credit to them, by the way.

I lived in Brighton myself for over five years, but Albion were one of the few neighbourhood sides I never got to follow. Knowing something of the people and environment of Falmer, I'm afraid I wasn't particularly sympathetic to the Club in the shenanigans over their ground, and found their public presumption concerning a mess they effectively got themselves into rather irritating. Good luck to them this season, nonetheless.

But back to tonight. As a result of being in the capital rather than the southwest, I found myself missing yet another penalty shoot-out -- such as the one that was transpiring at St James Park in Exeter, as it happens. In 43 years of watching football I've never seen a shoot-out 'live' to this day. I was secretly hoping for a chance this evening, but in the end I was happy enough for my Orient friends to let that little unfulfilled ambition pass once more. It was a great seat towards the top-centre of the new stand at the Matchroom Stadium in Brisbane Road, too.

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Almost a sigh of relief

Ah well, it could have been worse. Dumbarton's scrambled 3-3 draw against fellow-strugglers Clyde at least means we have a point, even if we are propping up Division Two at the moment. After falling two behind inside 25 minutes, I feared the worst. Thank goodness for Clyde 'keeper Calum Reidford's red card. And the largeish home gate got a bit of entertainment with the goals -- not that the performance appeased Jim Chapman. Meanwhile, the signing of former Rangers youth defender Ross Harvey (pictured) looks hopeful, if my contact at Brechin is right.

As for the local lads, Exeter City clocked up an away win at Carlisle on Saturday, thanks to a Marcus Stewart penalty and a fair bt of hard work, by the sound of it. I'll catch the home game against MK Dons this weekend. That'll be the first time I've seen "Franchise FC". I'm told their new home is "soulless" and "a dump... Too symmetrical. Horrible place." The trip down to the southwest will be a refreshing change, then.

The second leg of the Champions League qualifier between Arsenal and Celtic will be on telly at my local this evening. I'll take a gander to reward myself for all the hard work I've done today -- but it could be painful. Supporting one of the Old Firm because, in this context, they're the underdogs: that's a strange business, too.

Tony Mowbray wants the Bhoys to grab an early goal at the Emirates in order to have any chance of reversing the 2-0 deficit, achieved by the Gunners at Parkhead by two slightly lucky goals (though no-one could deny their embarrassing superiority overall). Frankly, they'll be lucky to stop Arsene Wenger's men grabbing a hatful. Still, Arsenal are a team whose ethic and footballing splendour I have great respect for - "the acceptable face of the big four" (if such a thing is possible). It would be really good to see them grab the English Premier League title this season. Won't happen, though. Still not enough staying power, I fear.
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Living (in) the dream

Not much has been going right for freshly-relegated Southampton of late - by definition, I suppose: though the twists and turns at St Mary's (see link at the beginning) have been extreme, even by football's well-developed standards of the bizarre. But there's always moments of glory from the past for their fans to dwell upon for inspiration, I suppose. I saw famed ex-manager Lawrie Mcmenemy on the train recently. He's still looking chipper, I'm glad to report. Meanwhile, my friend Mary Houston (who has the same kind of interest in the Beautiful Game as I have in... well, things I don't like) is about to move into a block of flats named in honour of Saints' attacking legend turned-race-horse-mogul Mick Channon. The Dell, Southampton. There's an address to remind you of Pompey and circumstance. Kind of. I wonder if her kitchen has a mullet on the wall?
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Money, but no class

Thank goodness the January transfer window is nearly over. Its just possible that we might get back to talking about football once more - though not likely. The national media here seems far more interested in English Premier League managers slagging each other off, and who's nearer the 'finished' line in the weekly sack race.

One can speculate variously about where Manchester City's coach Mark Hughes lines up in the list of those looking over their shoulders at job (in)security, but his Club have certainly been making monkeys of themselves recently. Being "the richest team in the world" can't buy you pedigree, loyalty or instant success, even in the surreal world of global football wheeler-dealing. Milan said that City's cash-flashing representatives "didn't seem to know what they were doing", and the scrabble for Kaka (and a few other megastars) was as absurd as it was indecent. That said, their actual signings have been strong, and could save the manager's bacon if they work out.

As for 'Sparky': well, he did a very good job at Blackburn, but when he took his new appointment, sky-high with expectations, it seemed to turn his head somewhat. City are creeping up the table now, but their results have been comparatively poor hitherto, and Hughes has not impressed some of the bigger egos in his dressing room. He's also consistently tried to push the blame onto the old regime - particularly the man who gave the side their best finish ever in the Prem last season, before being nonsensically sacked by a disgraced former Thai president... Sven Goran Eriksson.

Sven seems a prime target for wounded English pride, for some reason. Perhaps because he's quiet and, more often than not, good at his job. (He lost just 5 competitive games and achieved top qualifying place in all three international tournaments during his five and a half years as England manager. But that didn't stop the childish abuse at "only" reaching the quarter final in three consecutive tournaments. As if they deserved much more.)

But back to Man City. Not long after arriving, Mark Hughes said he was going to tighten up the "soft" regime he'd inherited. Then he announced that Club visitors would be restricted because Sven had been too hospitable. This was followed by allegations about fitness levels... after the close season. Since then he's stated or implied that his performance problems have been substantially down to the squad he inherited. Yeah, right... where do we start? Brazilian international Elano? Sure, City lost games towards the end of last term, when commitment went out the window while everyone was furious about the treatment of Eriksson, who was hugely popular as well as successful. And strengthening was bound to be needed. But using a crack in the barometer to test its overall effectiveness is a poor measure.

When Hughes has a management record to that's anywhere near comparable with the Swede's, currently being tested again in Mexico, he'll have a right to boast (though it would be better if he didn't). Until then, he'll need to get his head down and try to prove that Manchester City's past owner wasn't mistaken to put him in charge in place of Sven. [Footnote, today, Saturday 31st, the Blues' all-stars lost 1-0 to world-beaters Stoke City. Yes, yes... they've done quite well since then...]
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Anything seems possible

Goodness. The dark sky is illuminated by multi-coloured flashes of light, the United States has elected its first African-American president, Bush is on fire, and Dumbarton are on a winning streak - scoring five goals on Saturday (including a Stevie Murray hat-trick). The Sons are now pushing hard for the top spot in the Third Division of the Scottish League. The sky's the limit, it seems. Who knows, I might even update this site properly with all my recent programme notes soon... if only to keep Partick Kenny happy. (OK, thanks for the Stevester, mate. He's just what we needed. And Paul Keegan is doing well with my shirt sponsorship, too.) What next? Celtic to rip a few chunks off Manchester United, maybe. That would be good: an Old Firm underdog (heh, heh!) coming good against tiresome MUFC swagger. And low and behold, they're 1-0 ahead at the moment. But watch out Fergie and Gordo, the Rock [see pic] is the up-and-coming 'theatre of dreams'! [Footnote: 1-1 at Parkhead in the end. The Bhoys did pretty well, given the sheer quality they were up against]
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Football is harsh

The BBC's Phil McNulty, echoing Pat Nevin, has today's news from Chelsea well summed up: "It is a sign of the cut-throat nature of the modern game that a decent, dignified man [Avram Grant] is sacked three days after missing out on club football's biggest honour by the width of a post and on the Premier League title on the last day of the season." Next up, it'll probably be Gus Hiddink at Stamford Bridge, then.

Meanwhile, well done to Queen of the South for a superb performance in the Scottish Cup Final. After a disappointing first half, and back at 2-2, they might just have snatched it from Rangers. But it was not to be. Congratulations to Hull City, too, for nabbing next season's automatic relegation place in the English Premier League.

Life is harsh. Football no less, especially in the upper eschelons.
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Tight at the top

Yes, I know, I shouldn't really... being a 'real football' aficionado, the lure of the Big Four in England should be kept at bay. But I will shortly be down the pub watching the travails of Manchester United and Chelsea. Since Munich and '68 were among my earliest major football impressions, I want United to win the Champions League. But it would be quite satisfying if Chelsea pipped them for the Premiership, not least because I told my friend Jim Smith that they were still in with a shot weeks ago, and he dismissed the idea. {He was right. But only just}

Talking of the millionaire set, Rangers gained a mightily undeserved win over Dundee United yesterday, much as I shall be rooting for them in the UEFA Cup final against Zenit (managed by ex-'Gers boss Dick Advocaat) on Wednesday - my goodness, they're even showing it (a match featuring a Scottish team!) on telly down here in England. There's a refreshing change. Even if it is ITV, and something called "contractual obligation".

But I digress. I share Lorraine Kelly's phone-in outrage at the penalty and offside decisions going against Dundee United. Let's hope Hibs get a better rub of the green, so to speak, against Celtic. It's 0-0 on 13 minutes, as I write.

Now, back to fitba'-type football. Congrats to Dumbarton's U-15s. I'd rather be watching them. Honest.
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Paying the penalty

I've long had a suspicion that we might see a Barcelona-Chelsea Champions League final - which should be good news to Manchester United and Liverpool fans, given my established predictive shortcomings. United now have to stop Barca scoring at Old Trafford and get something themselves. However, they have not been helped by Cristiano Ronaldo showboating at the penalty spot yesterday. Trying to side foot into the top right-hand corner is the sort of thing you do on the training ground, not in a vital match like this. Confidence can segue into arrogance when young players' minds are turned by inflated acclamations of their own brilliance, it seems.

The perils of the spot-kick are also highlighted in a new report that appears this week, implausibly enough, in the academic journal Scientific American Mind. English footballers missing penalties and women doing badly at maths could all be down to historical stereotyping rather than innate inability, according to researchers.

A new report by psychologists at Universities of St Andrews and Exeter (I first noticed this one in the local paper) argues that success or failure at work, school or in sport is not always down to lack of ability or incompetence. Instead, they suggest that the power of stereotypes can cause poor performance when a person believes they should do badly.

Professor Alex Haslam of the University of Exeter explained, "The power of stereotypes should not be underestimated. What we think about ourselves - and also, what we believe others think about us - determines both how we perform and what we are able to become."

The report, published on 22 April 2008, argues that the roots of poor performance lie partly in the preconceptions of how well a certain group (usually relating to gender or nationality / ethnicity) should perform certain tasks. For example, one reason why the England football team performs badly in penalty shoot-outs (winning only 1 out of 7 in major tournaments) is that performance is impeded by a history of failure.

We think it, therefore it happens - a psychological mindset takes over which overcomes those given the responsibility of discharging the fans' dreams.

This won't be news to Sven Goran Eriksson. When he was interviewed some months ago by Gabby Logan on the BBC's Inside Sport, he said that the one thing he would have done differently during his tenure as England national manager would have been to employ a professional psychologist to assist with preparation for penalty shoot-outs.
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Making some Cup history

Ah well, Aberdeen didn't quite make it a win over Celtic at Pittodrie in the Scottish Cup today, and face an uphill task at Parkhead for the replay. Hibs also got dumped by Rangers. So the Old Firm are on course for the Final yet again. My wish, as always, is that others will get their moment in the limelight, as did Hearts and Gretna (facing a real survival tussle right now - good luck to them) back in 2006. Still, down south things have been looking rosy for those of us who fancy an underdog or two. The FA Cup has been dominated by 'the big four' in recent years, but with Barnsley completing a stunning double over Liverpool and now Chelsea, Portsmouth beating Manchester United and Cardiff knocking back Middlesbrough, there will be just one top division side in the Semis for the first time in a hundred years. Only League One Bristol Rovers failed to turn the prediction tables against Championship West Brom this afternoon, getting thumped 5-1. Pompey must now fancy their chances something rotten. But don't bet on us having seen the last cup shock. And 'mon Dons, in spite of your rubbish PremiumTV website, you had a good EUFA Cup run and deserve the chance to turn over the Bhoys in that replay.

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Black and white but no Grays

What is the Football Association on? First, they decide to arrange the FA Cup semi-finals for Wembley, to pretty well universal derision, given the fact that "getting to Wembley" for the Final is historically and practically a big part of what the whole lure of the competition is about. This simply devalues it, especially as teams outside the Premier League have done stunningly well this year, and at the very least one of them will go all the way.

Then, even more bizarrely, they rule that non-league Grays Athletic FC must pay £14,000 to their former player Ashley Sestanovich, who has been convicted with conspiracy to rob and imprisoned for eight years after a heist in which someone was murdered. Grays terminated Sestanovich's contract prior to his conviction but the FA's judgment means that unless they pay the player's wages for the preceding five months they could face suspension from all competitions. Bonkers.

Stellar son-of-Grays Russell Brand (pictured), whose Guardian footie columns I love, has it well taped here. He writes: "Whilst I acknowledge that the FA has no power to override employment law I think they have an obligation to be supportive to Grays Athletic at this time of crisis, [and] giving them 14 days to pay this fine or risk suspension seems draconian. It is a malevolent gardener who so unthinkingly condemns his lawn. Instead of administering the Baby Bio they're out there blundering about in stilettos."

Now try 'If Keegan's a messiah I want the cockney Moses.' Mind you, if Elijah turned up at NUFC the Toon Army would complain, and think Shearer's cat had more prophetic nous.
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Havants frighten the haves

Congratulations to Blue Square South non-leaguers Havant and Waterlooville, who gave a superb account of themselves at Anfield in the FA Cup this afternoon, scoring twice (a goal from Potter deflected off Martin Skrtel and a close range header by Richard Pacquette) against the mighty Liverpool, before going down 5-2 to a Benayoun hat-trick and a blatantly offside Peter Crouch effort at the end. Back in the 1960s and '70s, when my footballing passions were ignited, the gulf between professional and part-time or amateur teams was such that you expected massively unequal contests. These days, the improvements in technique, tactics, fitness and training all round mean that while there is still a huge chasm between Premier League and non-league, there is also surprising quality in the lower echelons of the game - often of a kind which takes mega-wage stars reel. Given that sheer determination can often compensate for lack of finesse (if not the magic conjoured up by sheer class), the key differences are usually in overall stamina, the number of mistakes made, and a certain positional or organisational naivete on the part of the minnows. However, Havant undoubtedly played out of their skins today, taking the lead twice, grabbing a significant chunk of the first-half action, and showing that they more than deserved to breathe the Kop air alongside many of their heroes. This is indeed "what the FA Cup is all about."

Name that Toon

As someone from Newcastle United remarked on the BBC earlier today, the appointment of Kevin Keegan as the Magpies' next manager will be greeted with euphoria on Tyneside and a certain degree of puzzlement elsewhere. A triumph of adrenalin over calculation, but who knows - it might work. Just imagine, a devil-take-the-hindmost approach thwarting the posterially retentive ProZone Premier League technocrats. Football feasts of "stranger things" happening. One of which will be the appearance of Blue Square Conference South side Havant & Waterlooville rolling up at Anfield to face the might of Liverpool in the Fourth Round of the FA Cup. The non-league side, two divisions short of the Football League, have just turned over Swansea City (League One leaders) 4-2. The third goal came from Tom Jordan, son of Scotland hero Joe, glancing the ball past Dorus De Vries from Brett Poate's cross from the right. Congratulations to them. If only some of the excitement had rubbed off on BBC1's live FA Cup game, Manchester City against West Ham, which was ground out by Sven's men 1-0. Snoresville.