A season’s passing, a blessing perhaps, another Covid-19 hit season, observations can be made, into satire mood a light shines brightly. A corner stone of football was the Harlem Globetrotters of football, any ball forward will do, take a chance, throw the players into the box, perhaps would not have the same feel without the quality required, the players at one’s disposal, the greatest, Sir Alex Ferguson? Find the basket, the goal net of course, deep into Fergie time, Alex’s safekeeping of United, Manchester United, pass the baton onto another pair of safesure housekeeping, Mr Longevity, Roy Hodgson who spent forty five years globetrotting around the world’s sphere, Roy with the clasping of the chin, deep in thought with a negative, progressive, but not trophy laden career, in football’s passing of time, Roy’s teams not the entertainers, Roy birthed in hometown Croydon and set to rest in Croydon and out, enjoy your retirement Roy!

One still operating at a high level, the Carlo Ancelotti, who became miffed by a Champions away record, opposites to the relegation fodder home form, does the answer lie in the Italian job, counter attack football away from home for the Toffees with the second chew in follow with the same recipe at home, which does not succeed at home, counter attack to suggest, surrendering match possession by twenty percent being the norm at Goodison Park of course, I’m not there, just a cardboard cutout with battery operated binoculars from a distance, just a thought, possible explanation, the ‘Italian job’ Carlo!

The rookie on the block Thierry Henry whose beginnings as a manager are nonplussing, the mantra being “I will do it may way, whatever the cost” could defeat the aim, success, stubbornness and non flexibility in football are the enemies, adaptability to readjust to the moments, the times of the present, set the tone, Thierry, good enough, perhaps not, we shall see, but results do matter, the winning of course. Football’s not all about one’s philosophy playing from the back, pinged another loss, ‘wow’ greatness as a player does not always transmit to greatness as a manager, the initial vibes indicate the latter, time, football time, the great prevailer. Time to stay on the same parallel track, the Robbie Fowler school of thought, any obscure footballing post will do, Australia, India, looking to do a Roy Hodgson, but without the same coaching theme come qualities, Roy doused in five languages, scouse included Roy ‘You know what I mean’, as for Robbie, enjoy the ride. One manager who did like playing from the back was the Sven-Goran Erikson of course, Ulrika! Perhaps it’s time to sit on the Bielsa blue drum permitting, perched like a peacock, Leeds United Marcel Bielsa with the sleepy, boring and stilted movements, are they wooden, “That’s the way to do it” during the post match interviews maybe one not to lack a punch, but not in one’s good morning drink is the talk, talk, don the ear plugs of the Simon Jordan on Radio Talksport who in fairness invariably hits the right notes, with ‘narrative’ being the chosen word. Simon remained quiet when Lord Alan Sugar entered the programme’s airwaves, title not befitting, Sugar was playing the norm, non sensical speak on occasions followed with a contradiction, the outspoken Sugar likes to lump it around stating the supporter involvement at boardroom level has no worth, a lick of paint here and there on one’s stadium would be their sole contribution, a shallow view. But the Lord Sugar lump is in the thumbs up brigade for a football regulator which would open the way forward for increased supporter involvement, watch the paint dry, my lord. They may be on the radio ‘Talksport’ but we can see you, the cameras are podded inside the studio, one to relate perhaps is our ‘Trev’, the Trevor Sinclair who likes to apply the lip balm for those crusty bits, late night Trevor? Who on occasions can come off the rails, but normally Trevor’s observations are on line, on track. The perfect quencher would be the Simon Jordan cocktailed looking drink for one’s am appetiser, a strange looking shade of red, pink, paled drink, Martini perhaps or just a dash of Pimm’s. Over to you Danny Murphy with the line, “Is this the same day with the same shirt?”, need to check the dates as the Murph is always wearing the same laborious hooden laden off white greyed tracksuit type toppie, we can see you Danny, change the top please. In reflection, is the savvy Simon Jordan who has nominated Sean Dyche to manage Crystal Palace but is Dyche a clone of Roy Hodgson, could be the case, Roy needed a goatee for the clasping of the chin, Dyche for the Palace, the crown jewels of Croydon. There’s one certainty in football, any landings in the Spurs hotseat will eventually be levied out, stamped and branded as failures, so is the Spur’s cockerel the coolest chick in town, over to you levy, you’re the flapper, flap, flap!