La Liga’s all wrapped up at the top
Well, that’s that all sorted then. Mourinho’s mob have finally ground Catalonia’s finest down, and there is to be no repeat of Barca’s 4 in a row hegemony of the early 90s. In fact, if I were the sort of dick who talks about bragging rights, I’d say they may never match Real’s incredible 5 in a row that preceded that. Not to mention what will soon become 32 league titles to the Blaugrana’s 21. This all assumes there is to be no collapse, of course. What bunch of dicks could contrive to throw away a 7 point lead with just a few games left to play, after all? Ahem. What it did prove, however, was that no good can ever come of big daft, profound mosaics. They’re shit.
It wasn’t the best game at Camp Nou, but it was one in the eye for the surprisingly large amount of idiots who claim Cristiano Ronaldo doesn’t “do it” in the big games. Flat track bully, my arse. I can only imagine these keyboard cretins missed large swathes of his Manchester United career. Good grief, I miss that lad. Mourinho’s tactics were spot on again as well, the handsome, swarthy bastard. I can’t think of another game with two such cool looking managers prowling the touchline – you don’t see Jose or Pep emulating Dalglish’s tramp chic, or Ferguson’s bizarre suit and bad trainers combo.
It’s not looking good for the current bottom 3, either. Racing are the el Wolveso of La Liga, and Zaragoza and Gijon are staring down the barrel of a 6 point gap to safety, although Gijon gave themselves a glimmer of hope of catching Villareal with a weekend win. No, the race to get in the tournament you’ve no chance of winning but will earn a load of cash is where it’s at now. Just 10 points separate Valencia in 3rd and Real Betty Turpin (RIP) in 13th at the time of writing. That is ridiculous, but brilliant at the same time, and should make for some cracking games over the last few weeks.
So to Europe, and a big collective slap in the face for La Liga in the ECL and the Europa League, as dickheads everywhere call them. With two home legs to come in the European Cup though, nobody would be too surprised to see El Clasico travelling to Bavaria next month. Bayern are a more than decent outfit, but bearing in mind Michel’s recent Platinitudes (eh?) about the final being a family occasion, it’s not really appropriate for children to have to look at Franck Ribery in the early evening. It’s not really appropriate to charge the prices they do either, but still. Bayern deserved their first leg win, but I expect Iberian swagger to prevail over humourless Teutonic efficiency next week. Oh yes, we all love a good old tired national stereotype. The prospect of John fucking Terry lifting the European Cup is not one I can bring myself to imagine, and surely Chelsea’s luck cannot hold out again. I reckon he went home to bed like that, with no shirt but keeping the armband on. Fair play to Chelsea though, they did their job well at the Bridge and deserve more credit than they got, but you can’t see a wounded Barcelona being so profligate again. So despite the inevitable sterling bravery of JT, I’m having it that 1-0 won’t be enough and Pep and the gang will be off to a third final in four years.
The two clubs who gave Manchester a right slapped arse in the quarter finals met in the UEFA Cup semis, with Sporting coming from behind to secure a fragile 2-1 lead to take to Bilbao. Spain must have realised that the only way to secure a first leg win last week was for two of their number to play each other, and so it proved in a cracking 4-2 for Atletico over Valencia. Who will manage to book a rest for a few days in May? Bloody hell, that’s awful. And why is it called Romania these days, anyway? I’m quite sure it was Rumania when I was young. All of these questions, and more, answered next week. Well, as long as someone tells me the answer to the Romania/Rumania one.
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