I Go Driving In My Car

Whenever footballers are accused by the media or fans of leading privileged lives they are quick to stress their normality.

We at Sexy Football have always begged to differ and now have first knowledge to back this up.

So if you permit me, I will tell you a story.

I was at Bolton at the weekend watching Stoke City’s latest capitulation. It was my brother’s turn to drive. Unfortunately the vagaries of the M6 means that you are never sure how long the journey up the Motorway is going to take and we arrived at The Reebok at 12.30. Stupid o’clock in other words.

Anyone who has been to The Reebok knows that unless you fancy a big walk there is pretty much nothing to do.

So me and my brother were sat there in his car listening to Iced Earth’s new album and podcasts of Fighting Talk, when at around 1pm Bolton players started to arrive.

All of them in big black 4X4 cars, except Chris Eagles, who had a big white 4x4 and Martin Petrov, who had a big sports car that I don’t know the name of (my brother did tell me but I am not a car person).

I have no problem with that at all. With success comes money and with money comes big cars. But I do have a problem with what happened next.

The cars disappeared out of our view for a few minutes and were then parked up. My brother noticed it first. The footballers weren’t getting out of the cars at this point. So we did wonder initially if they were same cars, but then, as we watched Gary Cahill arrive, we realised what was going on.

Said Bolton player was getting out of his car at the entrance. Picking up his washbag and going into the ground. The aforementioned security guard was seen scurrying around, getting into Bolton players car, driving it all of 20 yards to the car park, parking the 4X4 and waiting for the next player to arrive.

What sort of world is it that we live in when Bolton Wanderers players can’t park their cars?! It isn’t a world that Sexy Football understands that’s for sure!

Are these people (and it probably isn’t just Bolton players, but all footballers – certainly at top level) so detached from reality that they don’t think they have to put their own vehicles between two lines? Seriously?

Everyone can probably agree that there’s no value for money in football – this website wouldn’t exist if there was, but surely this is a step to far!

I had a rant about this to a Kidderminster Harriers supporting mate who said when he text me back: “some of our players come in from Birmingham on the train.” And if ever anything showed the difference between top level and grass roots its that.

And don’t get me started on footballers not trying and thus not earning their wages. I could be on all night, couldn’t I, Jermaine, Glen and Jonathan? Those guys probably don’t park their cars either!

Charity Begins...In The Shop

I am a creature of habit.

There is not time here to list all the various rituals I go through before going to a football match.

I wear lucky t shirts, there are lucky songs, we have to park in the same place at certain grounds, you name it, I have come up with it as an idea to help us win.

And every night, on the way home from SexyFootball.org.uk I listen to Radio 5Live.

On the drive time show – a magnificent piece of radio – the other day they were discussing whether there was too many charity shops on Britain’s High streets. If I recall, they were in Rochdale, where apparently there were about 10 charity shops in 100 yards.

It wasn’t good, they concluded, for Britain’s shopkeepers, and whilst that might largely be true, it did go through my mind that these things existed because people like bargains.

Around a month ago my Dad was having one of his walks, and ended up in a town a couple of miles from where I live and happened to find himself in one of these shops.

He came home raving about it, to the point where he suggested my brother, who is soon to move into his first home with his fiancé, looked in there to kit out his new abode.

Whether my brother does indeed decide to buy his furnishings from the British Heart Foundation I don’t know (but then I don’t know how he bagged himself a trainee Doctor in the first place – life is full of mysteries) but it does go to prove that if you look away from the headlines you can find some great stuff out there.

And 5 or 6 a side football is where we can help you with that search. There is a massive difference in prices out there and as we grow – and believe me we have some big plans for 2012 – we will collate them all and make sure you get the best deal.

Now, we are away on Sunday, is it my lucky Iron Maiden shirt, or because we have lost the last few games shall I try something different? A Dream Theater one perhaps? We won when I wore at that at WBA…..

The Great Stone Roses Mystery

I hate the Stone Roses. Always have.

I remember when “Stone Roses” (their debut album) came out. I was in my second year at Senior School. Everyone went mad for it. Except me. And my best mate.

We liked Bon Jovi/Kiss/Van Halen/Gun N Roses/Motley Crue and millions of other American hard rock bands. Never liked indie. Still don’t. Never will. And I’ve got the same best mate.

Last week, I did a lot of shouting at the tele when we were supposed to care about The Stone Roses cash in….sorry I mean reunion.

“Who cares”, I yelled. Turns out, everybody seemed too. Except me. And my best mate. And my brother (who was only six at the time the debut came out, so probably didn’t have an opinion.)

There were people at the Sexy Football Offices who were buying tickets for this nonsense. They were by turns gutted when they didn’t get the first night, suicidal when they didn’t get the second night and punched the air when they got the third sorted.

I was cast in my usual role as office curmudgeon when I suggested I would help them get their money back, and also offered that they might want to join the fan club next time (my Iron Maiden membership means I can get tickets before anyone else. Very handy.)

Even odder is the fact that these tickets are going for small fortunes on Ebay . Hundreds of pounds is changing hands. Just briefly, I admit, Sexyfootball.org.uk considered entering the ticket touting business, but it never came off.

All of which proves that there is a potential for people to allow themselves to be ripped off in ridiculous ways if they are passionate about something. Something is, I guess, worth whatever you want to pay for it but that doesn’t mean you can’t shop around for the best deal. Premier League Football isn’t worth £50, but you don’t get the shop around option there, you pay whatever you are told by what amounts to a cartel.

Which is the key difference in 5 a side and 6 a side football. There are some good deals if you look – and that’s where we come in.

And if you didn’t get tickets for the Stone Roses then whilst we I can’t offer sympathy, I can offer solace. My aforementioned best mates little lad is three this week and I will wager you right now that by the time he’s in his second year at Senior School they’ll be back round for a another cash in…I mean reunion.

I am pleased to say that the then 13 year old won’t care. He likes Queen, Rory Gallagher and Joe Satriani, and Thomas the Tank Engine. He’ll grow out of the latter, but probably not the former. Its only rock n roll but he likes it.

It’s just better when it’s cheap.

The Great Celebrity Cook Off

Last week someone at the Sexy Football offices tweeted something about Hayley McQueen, one of the newest – and hottest – Sky Sports News Presenters.

 

The divine Ms McQueen aside we are lucky to be allowed SSN on in the office. This is good because it allows us to have plenty of football related banter while we are trying our best find you the best deal for 5 a side football.

There are downsides, of course. On a slow day the “Breaking News” yellow bar they love so much isn’t so much “Breaking” as “Broken” – for example for about an hour this morning there was some news that James McFadden was at Everton’s training ground (wow! Really! An injured player! On a free transfer! Stop the presses!) and it can be terrible if your team has had a spanking the night before and you have to watch the goals again and again.

And on transfer deadline day it can be really, really awful. Sky Sports lives, basically for two days a year, August 31^st and January 31^st and, as such, it has managed to convince us hard bitten football supporters (even ones as curmudgeonly as us at Sexy Football) that if our teams don’t sign anyone the end of the world is nigh.

And sometimes, if our teams have done something out of the ordinary, we have to put up with watching players we respect doing something …well…..a little stupid.

As a Stoke supporter therefore I was a little bit worried to see that Sky Sports New Cameras were at The Brit last week to watch Peter Crouch, Matthew Upson and Carlo Nash make fools of themselves, cooking with Marco Pierre White in front of 280 guests.

Season ticket holders had been offered tickets but they were top dollar and I am so tight fisted that I wouldn’t pay that price even if it meant I got to rub shoulders with Abby Clancy.

In the end Upson impressed the celebrity chef enough to win the competition. The menu, according to Stoke’s website was this: Seared Salmon Fillet, Rib Eye Beef and White Chocolate and Vanilla Cheesecake. It wouldn’t have been my choice (I don’t like fish without chips or unless its in finger variety and I am yet to establish just why cheese and cake should go together) and Peter Crouch didn’t sound to overwhelmed either: “I’ll probably give it a go when I get home,” was about as much enthusiasm as he can muster.

I guess these are things that footballers have to do in return for their celebrity – but just occasionally I am glad I am not one. And donning a chefs hat and gurning for the cameras definitely is in that category.

And finally – just because it occurred to me over the weekend while watching the Rugby. do you think Peter Crouch has ever said this when he….errm….scrums down: “Crouch. Touch. Pause. Engage.”

I would if I was him – but that’s just me…

See you next week for a detailed run down of the Sky Sports News ladies, ok perhaps not!