INTERNATIONAL AFFAIRS: IN THE NEUTRAL ZONE

As a football fan, I will pretty much watch any game on telly, regardless of which teams are playing. That’s how you get a feel for how good and how poor different leagues, teams and players are in comparison to what your own team is. For me, it gives an opportunity to fantasize about who would be a good fit in claret and amber, or who wouldn’t, as well as giving rise to having “another team”.

At international level, I have to admit I am rather ambivalent. At the moment I am anyway. Obviously as a Scot, I am patriotic and always enjoy seeing the Tartan Army entertained by the national team. Under Levein though, I just don’t feel it. Last night’s win over Denmark was a good result, but it will only be worth something if it can be replicated in the games that matter. I’m in no way a gloom and doom merchant, but I’d be content with glorious failure to qualify for Euro 2012 as is the norm, but to do that, there needs to be some battling performances from Levein’s picks.

Instead of taking in the win at Hampden last night, my travels allowed me to experience a must win game for Northern Ireland as somewhat of a neutral. Friends and regular blog readers will know that I am marrying in to a Northern Irish family. When Big Rab told me he’d acquired tickets for their game against the Faroes in the week Elaine and myself were over, I knew I could get my fix of live football, albeit at the expense of missing a glorious win over Hearts and the impending defeat of St Mirren.

The drive from Larne to Belfast wasn’t too long, but the ever greying and darkening sky suggested that this muggy August night would also be a slippery one. After inhaling a magnificent Chicken Burger from the highly recommended Supreme takeaway, Robert, Steven and I made the short, wet walk to Windsor Park. For an international ground, Linfield’s stadium was very similar to those in the SPL. Temporary seating was in place behind one of the goals and also to the front of the Main south stand. Sat in the North stand, 2 rows back, it was clear that the grey sky was not going to be our friend for the night. As our seats were uncovered by the overhang of the top tier, a soaking would surely ensue.

Similar to Fir Park in size, Windsor too boasts an awful PA system. The tannoy guy made a valiant effort at naming the Faroese players, but was charged with a much tougher task of leading the crowd in a sing song. Printed on page 33 of the programme were alternative words to “We Didn’t Start The Fire”, which the announcer was pleading with the fans to burst out with as before the game and at half time. Whether it was out of embarrassment or in light of the English (Not UK) Riots, the fans were not having it. The song was played once and never again, with no one in our block singing along.

Instead, their voices were saved mainly for chants of “We’re not Brazil, We’re Northern Ireland” and “Greenandwhitearmy!”. The early lead Norn Iron took through Aaron Hughes, was all they could really sing about in the first half, although a couple of penalty decisions in their favour could have changed that, as could national hero Healy, if he hadn’t struck the post.

For a part time team, the Faroes didn’t lie down, and could have drawn level on a few occasions. Camp in goal for the home team almost let a corner slip in to his net just before half time, and shortly after, he breathed a sigh of relief when a clearance cannoned off a Faroese forward. Worthington’s men were starting to look edgy until the introduction of Niall McGinn.

In the lead up to the game, much had been said about the inclusion of Celtic players in the Northern Irish set up. Having a slight grasp of the political issues involved in the country, sectarian ignorance seems to be set aside in these instances. It’s true that both McGinn and Pat McCourt have received unpleasant post for their inclusion in Worthington’s squads, but when you have talented players in your ranks, it was proved last night that your background shouldn’t and doesn’t matter.

Within minutes of his introduction, McGinn had made a vital contribution. A long ball form the back sent him scurrying up the right wing. A look up and a pass to the onrushing Davis was all that was needed, as his first time side footer crashed in to the goal from all of 25 yards. It’s not often that I will be in attendance at a game and applaud a player that I would normally be vilifying, but in this instance, all I could do was get to my feet. Having seen Davis score a similar goal v the Well at Ibrox last season, I was now in a position to accept that he is a class act. In a Northern Ireland shirt anyway.

I didn’t expect I would have to do it again. Twice more in fact. For the first half, the enigma that is Paddy McCourt looked like uninterested. He and Johnny Evans on the left looked bereft of ideas, as more often than not, McCourt would pass and not move, or cut inside and stop. In the second half, he was a completely different player, almost epitomising the frustration that Celtic fans have with him.

His stats at Celtic show 10 goals in 30 appearances in 3 seasons. A goal every 3 games, and spectacular goals at that. Whether it’s his fitness (at times he looked to be blowing out his arse) or his attitude that finds him in and out of the squad, only Lennon knows. But his impact in the final 20 minutes of this game was unreal. His first goal for his country on his first start for his country came from a great piece of play. McGinn again strode up the wing, playing in Davis. A look left and a perfect pass picked out Paddy. He slalomed in to the box with ease, playing a neat 1-2 with Evans on the byline, before picking his spot at the far post. 3-0 and the Green and White Army burst in to life with various songs with McCourt’s name inserted.

A capacity crowd in Belfast, cheering a Celtic player to the roof. Who’d have thunk it? And who’d have thought they would do it again, but even louder? His second of the night, is honestly one of the best goals I have ever witnessed. Almost a carbon copy of the first, he dropped his shoulder and swivelled his hips all the way in to the box before chipping the goalie, like you can only do in FIFA, from about 10 yards. Magnificent.

The Derry Pele, Messi in disguise, whatever you want to call him, McCourt’s name is probably still echoing around Windsor Park this morning. If ever a gloss needed to be put on a 4-0 win, that was it. It could be argued that the result and performance wasn’t that impressive, given the quality of opposition, but a 4-0 win is a 4-0 win and gives a bit f spark before their next qualifiers against Serbia and Estonia. 2 points off second place with a game in hand, it’s up to the Ulstermen to make the most of it.

By the end of the match, the three of us were sodden, but delighted by the result and the quality of goals we had seen. Heading back to Larne in the dark, the aroma of our chippy still in the car, I had enjoyed being somewhat of a neutral. For once, I had sort of been supporting the same team as Robert and that team had won. A good night all round.

MOTHERWELL FC: PIES, PRESSROOMS AND PASSES

MOTHERWELL FC: PIES, PRESSROOMS AND PASSES.

So, week 2 of being a match day reporter for the glorious www.motherwellfc.co.uk found me taking a jaunt down to Kilmarnock. I'd only ever been to Rugby Park once before, as a teen to watch Scotland play Estonia.

My lasting memories of that day are the torrential rain, sitting in the steep, steep stand behind the goal, and a car knocking me off balance as I left the ground. I was hoping for some slightly more positive feedback on this occasion.

Another roasting Saturday for summer time football, I travelled with Twitter maestro Graham Barnstaple in his car-come-oven. We chatted about the impending game, last weeks performance, a bit about "minority sports" and other general football chit chat. Being the first time we'd properly had a chance to chat as part of the Well Media team, it was cool to see that any strangeness was put to the side over a common factor.

As we arrived at Rugby Park, the hotel across the road was a hive of activity. One side was full of kilted, tuxedoed and general wedding clothing, while the other was sunburt and wrapped in blue and White stripes. My immediate thought was that Elaine would kill me, if we had our wedding on a matchday at Fir Park!

We collected our Press Passes, where despite saying clearly on the card that Scottish Journalist ID was required, saying only our surnames sufficed. The press room at Killie is not dissimilar to that at Fir Park, the main difference being that there was someone manning the refreshments.

After a couple of cups of tea, the teamsheets were handed out. The big story for us Well reporters was thy Higdon was out and McHugh was in. The confidence we had in getting a result from a tight game dropped, as it meant that last week's picture perfect performance, couldn't be replicated. That's no disservice to Wee Bob, as he gave a decent account of himself on only his 4th SPL start.

It just meant that our gameplan which worked so well against Inverness was out the window. With no

Imposing target man to bring Humphrey and Murphy in to play, the passing on the deck had to be precise. Killie had been talking in the papers about how Kenny Shiels wants them playing like Barcelona. With two teams looking to pass the ball as much as possible, it was inevitable they would cancel one another out.

Without The Don, we weathered an early onslaught and should have done better from the number of corners we won. Hammell's deliveries were pretty much spot on, but only Heid Hutchinson came close. Kilmarnock look to have a decent winger in James Dayton. He and Hammell had a good battle on the left. Much like Jim O'Brien though, Dayton likes to go down if he's not getting past someone. It worked when JOB did it for us and I'm not complaining, but (and I hate to quote Rio Ferdinand) Stay On Your Feet!

Nicky Law was once again the instigator of most of our attacking play. He loves to jink in and around the box to play others in and set up Murphy and Humphrey for some decent efforts. Indeed, the best chance of the match fell to him, but a good block from Kroca denied him either a goal or an assist for McHugh.

In the past few seasons, we have been blessed with some top notch keepers in Ruddy and Randolph. Kilmarnock can say the same about Cammy Bell. Although there's not a lot of competition, I'd say apart from McGregor, he's the best Scottish keeper around at the minute.

His saves from McHugh and Jennings clarified that for me. I'm really surprised that Celtic haven't gambled on him in their hunt for a goalie. I'd imagine even Aberdeen, with their good old glory days and even older management, could have put up a decent bid as a replacement for Clangers Langfield due to his illness. Anyway, Cammy Bell, top keeper.

Randolph, in the middle of our goal, was no spectator in this game, making a number of comfortable, but still very vital saves. A low drive from Dayton which he got down sharply to was probably the pick of the bunch.

The game finished 0-0, in what I described at the time as "the most anodyne end to end match I'd ever seen". It wasn't as pleasant as the previous week, but was more pleasant than the hefty thump Hutchinson's cherries took from blocking a Silva daisy cutter. According to his tweets, he's still trying to get them back!

Two mini Killie Pies to the good, I travelled home happy that another point and another clean sheet had kept us top of the league for the second week in a row. I never look forward to games versus Hearts, but with all that's gone on down Gorgie this week, it's added a little spice to the fixture. Their 4-1 win over Paksi in Paulo Sergio's 1st game may be an indication of things to come, or it could well be their Flamutari.

No doubt it will be an interesting game and will be one I miss as I am Northern Ireland bound for the week. Im also missing the St Mirren game, where no doubt Higdon will return to haunt his former employers. It's not often we have players who do that, more that former Well players come back and bite us. Townsley, Delomeaux, McDonald, McCulloch and no doubt Sutton this Sunday. In fact scratch Sutton, the game's not on telly so he won't do the damage.

I'd be happy with 4 points from these 2 games and possibly a striker coming in while I'm away. With Higdon carrying a knock and Murphy possibly on his way at some point, we need someone as a plan b.

Anyways, cheers for reading, and next week you'll have my thoughts on Northern Ireland v Faroe Isles!

Up The Well!!

Hanging Up The Sambas: Official Retirement Blog

Hanging Up The Sambas.

DISCLAIMER: This is not and should not be viewed as a pity blog. While at times it may be self depricating, I am not looking for sympathy or anything, it is just a collection of ideas and facts that have lead to my decision.

After much deliberation, I have decided to retire from Tuesday Night 7s. This is not a decision I have taken lightly, but I feel it is the right one. It will allow me to focus on my burgeoning media career and allow me to enjoy consuming football in a much more beneficial fashion.

My reasons for this are varied, but mainly come down to my own thoughts and feelings. I've been playing regularly with the same group of guys for the past 3-4 months. Most of them pals, some of them acquaintances, others I only know from the Racecourse on a Tuesday night.

Most of these lads play 4 or 5 nights a week, some of them at at Junior level, some of them play in pub teams. Me? I play once a week. And it shows.

When I first started playing, it was all about getting the fitness up. By no means will I be showing up on Embarassing Fat Bodies, but I'm uncomfortably teetering between the 13 1/2 and 14 stone scale at the moment.

So fitness was key in my decision to take football back up. To an extent, my ability to run about for an hour and a half has improved, which I am pleased with. But, running about with guys who are a few stone lighter and can run all night, makes playing the game difficult. I've found myself in the last few weeks ploughing the Emile Heskey furrow, just running in to space. I was ironically calling it the John Sutton roll for a while, until he moved to Hearts, where it now seems he is playing the Kris Jack role.

About a month or so ago, I stopped wearing my flashy looking Puma boots and reverted back to my 10 year old adidas Sambas. The ground was too dry for blades and the Sambas had always been stalwarts back in my youth. I thought by wearing them again, I would get my powers back and be able to make a decent if insignificant contribution to the games.

The 16 year old KJ was never the greatest player but he was speedy enough with the ball at his feet, fairly good in the air, could go past a man and could shoot from distance. The 26 year old version of me, no matter how much I try, has none of that.

This has been none more evident in the last few weeks. My touch has completely gone. I'm too slow. My tackling is appalling. I'm dragging shots wide from less than 6 yards. I'm getting beaten to headers by guys shorter than me. What makes all of this worse is that I really am trying to make tackles, win headers, score goals. I've just lost the ability to do it.

As I said before, my fitness has improved, but to be of any value in these games, I need to be playing as often as my comrades. I could choose to do this, but I have more important things to occupy my nights with these days. Until recently, I have felt up for my Tuesday night games, looked forward to them as my 1 night of proper exertion a week. Now I feel it is time to stop.

This is no discredit to the guys I play with, some of them are a genuine talent, which forces them to take the game fairly seriously. When folk start shouting about "not keeping the shape"and getting angry at losing silly goals it suggests that a little bit of the fun is being sapped out the game. The guys I play with may disagree with that, as despite it being an inclusive fun game, it's is a competitive sport and winning is the aim. I just wanted a kickabout with my mates.

It was the same with the band. What started out as being fun and lively, became turgid and repetitive and the enjoyment was lost. In my opinion, our 4 year stint went 3 years too long, peaking when our single came out and troughing almost immediately after, as we couldn't muster up anything as good as our first year. Again, that may have been through my closed mindedness to a degree, but bottom line is the enjoyment ran out and it began to feel like a chore.

So now does Tuesday Night 7s. I play to make up the numbers and despite all the running in to space and occasional tap ins I score, it's not enough to carry on.

Instead, I'll stick to what I know I'm good at, as opposed to trying to be good at something I used to do to a decent standard. In the last few years I've been guilty of trying to have my fingers in as many pies as I can, and have come up short in a lot of them. I'm 26 now and it's probably time I Focussed on what I can do and not what I think I can.

So for those reasons, I hereby officially retire from Tuesday Night 7s. I am hanging up my Sambas.