The Life of Brian’s Statue: Light My Fire
There’s been some sparks flying in the last few days! I’ve had rockets exploding above my Old Big Ead for the last 72 hours non-stop. There have been some lovely splashes of colour – I’ve been dazzled.
Of course, in the world of football, the fireworks never stop. It’s all part of the game. Some players need an arm round the shoulder, they’re the ones that always put the graft in, players you can rely on. They sometimes just need a bit of encouragement.
But then y’get the ones who think they’re God’s gift, the bloody cocky little so-and-so’s! They’re the ones who have to have it spelt out plain and simple – nice and loud in the ear hole usually does the trick!
Strikers are the worst, of course all I have to do is mention my own goal-scoring record, and that shuts ’em up!
But these days I don’t know what’s what anymore. I thought Sir Alex Ferguson was a fiery one who was in control of all his players – I’m not so sure now. This business with Wayne Rooney is a joke! Okay, he’s a good player, or he WAS a good player I should say, but to double his wages just because he’s had a bit of a sulk is bloody ridiculous.
Everybody knows that, if I had an argument with a player, we’d sit down and talk about it for twenty minutes, and then decide I was right. It’s the only way to do it.
I tell y’what, if any of my players had tried any nonsense like that with me, they’d have got a rocket all right!