Rate it!

0 votes

Team with delusions of grandeur courts big name. Big name flirts back, tickled by the interest and keen to extort more money from whichever vastly superior team he ends up at.

Deluded team thinks it is home and dry, especially when big name mentions what a "fantastic honour" it would be to represent a "massive" club with an "illustrious" history.

Big name then drops bombshell, saying it has no intention of joining deluded team, but attempts to soften blow by writing a nice letter describing the "deep and serious thought" that caused him to opt for the piles of money, medals and glory on offer elsewhere.

Mourinho will be installed at either Real Madrid or Barcelona by next summer, while England will appoint a coach who cannot speak English, presumably on the basis that we haven't had much luck with the ones who could.

Fabio Capello and Marcello Lippi are both fantastically-credentialed managers with trophy cabinets fuller than David Beckham's Y-fronts (see below).

But Early Doors can't help but wonder if it isn't possible to select somebody who can both pick a football team and string together a few sentences of the most widely-spoken language in the world (shut it, Mandarin, you're a fruit, not a language).

- - -

It is good to see that after all the injuries, the upheaval of moving to America and the trauma of England's Euro 2008 failure, David Beckham has got back to doing what he does best.

Posing in a pair of briefs for some black-and-white fashion shoot. The former England skipper's latest ad features him trying mightily to smoulder in the name of Armani.

But it is not his perfectly chiselled face that draws the eye, or even his tanned, washboard stomach. No. The star players are, in the words of this morning's Sun, his Swollenballs.

Far be it from Early Doors to engage in detailed analysis of Becks's front two, but it beggars belief that a man with that kind of awe-inspiring package can produce such a whiny, castrato squeak.

It would almost lead one to suspect the photo has been digitally altered in some way. Incidentally, you have to pity the kids of the guys whose job that is. "What does your dad do?" "He enhances celebrities' testicles."

- - -

At half time in Liverpool's last Champions League game, fans unfurled a giant banner bearing the words: "As always, we are focusing on supporting our manager".

It was a reference to the Spaniard's infamous press conference when he proferred the same answer 15 times when asked about his relationship with the club's owners.

The most loyal fans in British football were fully behind their man as the Reds saw off Porto, then Bolton.

But Saturday's defeat to Reading, in which Liverpool's three best players were substituted as they chased the game, saw the phone-in switchboards jammed with disgruntled callers whining about how Benitez doesn't understand English football.

Early Doors has yet to receive official confirmation, but it hears the wording of the banner has been changed for tonight's make-or-break game against Marseille, and will now declare: "For God's sake, man, leave Gerrard on the flipping park".

- - -

QUOTE OF THE DAY: That Mourinho 'no chance, not now, not ever': "After deep and serious thinking, I decided to exclude myself from being England manager despite being a fantastic position for me. I'm sure FA will hire a great manager, one able to place the team back where it belongs." Pah! Doesn't even make proper sense!

FOREIGN VIEW: "Lippi and Capello - Battle for England" In what must be a baffling turn of events for Italians, a World Cup-winner and the most successful club manager ever fight it out for the right to manage a country who are not among the 16 best in Europe.

COMING UP: The final round of Champions League games always provides a few highlights among the dead rubbers. Liverpool's trip to Marseille is the obvious plum fixture, while Chelsea take on Valencia in a game that means nothing. Nothing. Elsewhere, Real Madrid could be knocked out if they lose to Lazio, and wouldn't that be a lot of fun?

Alex Chick / Eurosport