It was almost inevitable that, as the World Cup in South Africa looms, English football fans shed their veneer of confidence and return to outwardly displaying the jittery, nervous pessimisim about England's chances of returning home with the trophy, regularly recoiling in belly-gurgling fear at every sign that Fabio Capello has lost the plot or some more-than-crucial member of the squad has ruptured something important.
I, on the other hand, have faith that the genial Italian knows exactly what he's doing.
Yes, he made an error of judgement regarding that Capello Index thing, but this was short-lived as both he and the FA acted swiftly to ensure it remains no more than a footnote in the team's build-up to the tournament.
Yes he tried to tempt an old war horse out of retirement in the shape of Paul Scholes, and certainly many have questioned his selection of Jamie Carragher (none more so than myself, having been unfortunate enough to have watched Liverpool play a few times this season).
But look how everyone questioned his faith in Emile Heskey, until the mighty oak emerged as a key part of our attack.
Recall how the team posted one of the best qualifying records in recent times (with the only loss coming in a match which was played after we'd qualified and only shown on the internet, and as such no-one was watching anyway.
Consider how the man can nonchalantly drape a (no doubt, very expensive) sweater casually over his shoulders without looking like a) your Dad on holiday b) a twat.
This is why the man is coining it in to the tune of six big ones every year. Sven Gorn Eriksson, with his possibly homesickness-fuelled ex-weathergirl daliances and extremely dodgy computer game endorsements, he is not.
So, in conclusion, everyone should just calm down. Fab's got it all under control.
I, on the other hand, have faith that the genial Italian knows exactly what he's doing.
Yes, he made an error of judgement regarding that Capello Index thing, but this was short-lived as both he and the FA acted swiftly to ensure it remains no more than a footnote in the team's build-up to the tournament.
Yes he tried to tempt an old war horse out of retirement in the shape of Paul Scholes, and certainly many have questioned his selection of Jamie Carragher (none more so than myself, having been unfortunate enough to have watched Liverpool play a few times this season).
But look how everyone questioned his faith in Emile Heskey, until the mighty oak emerged as a key part of our attack.
Recall how the team posted one of the best qualifying records in recent times (with the only loss coming in a match which was played after we'd qualified and only shown on the internet, and as such no-one was watching anyway.
Consider how the man can nonchalantly drape a (no doubt, very expensive) sweater casually over his shoulders without looking like a) your Dad on holiday b) a twat.
This is why the man is coining it in to the tune of six big ones every year. Sven Gorn Eriksson, with his possibly homesickness-fuelled ex-weathergirl daliances and extremely dodgy computer game endorsements, he is not.
So, in conclusion, everyone should just calm down. Fab's got it all under control.
No comments:
Post a Comment