Late equalizers

It was a weird weekend for seeing people score goals for the wrong side in the final minute of the game.

Little Michael scored in the 96th minute at Old Trafford. Yes, the 96th minute. Although Manchester United and City were only meant to be playing an extra four minutes, and the result should have been 3-3 and one of the most exciting draws in derby history, we all know about Fergie-Time. As William Hill bookmakers pointed out, “We can only suppose that time passes more slowly at Old Trafford than anywhere else in the universe.”

Little Michael’s goal, however controversial the hour in which it came, was superb. He is still a genius in front of goal; I just hate to see him do it for them.

Meanwhile, the supporters of the Wellington Phoenix have spent the past week insisting that they are not afraid of Robbie Scouser. Well, maybe they should have been. His free kick in the 94th minute led to the goal which prevented the Phoenix from winning the match. Which proves you should never underestimate your opposition, or ex-Liverpool legends.

The Second Coming

Word is that Robbie ‘walks on water’ Fowler has signed for the North Queensland Fury. This means I’ll get to see him play again, so that’s definitely a game I’ll be going to watch, and it might spice things up a bit in the A-League.

Him Outdoors and I have been following the Wellington Phoenix for the past two seasons – having bought season tickets to support them. They have recently lost their two best players, Shane Smeltz and Glen Moss which is a big blow and suggests they might be struggling even more next season.

When Dad told me the news, he suggested that I might have a dilemma in whom to support. I’m not sure where he got that from – there’s simply no question – just as there’s only one Robbie ‘walks on water’ Fowler.

He is a legend and one of my favourite ever Liverpool players. His playing days alongside the likes of McManaman, Redknapp and Owen are such stuff as dreams are made on. Not least because of this against Arsenal, which was nice.

Wellington Phoenix: Badge of honour

As gluttons for punishment, him outdoors and I have got season’s tickets for the next instalment of the Wellington Phoenix.

The first game of the season had an upbeat atmosphere, the pubs were bursting at the seams before the match, there was a surfeit of yellow and black as folk proudly modelled their new hats, scarves and t-shirts (admittedly over long-sleeves – this is Wellington!), and the sun was shining brightly.

A friend had come up from Christchurch for the game (among other things) and he commented that it was great to see so many people turn out to support a new team without any history or tradition (they’re only a year old) who finished bottom of the league in their inaugural campaign. There were about 10,500 people present.

Last weekend there weren’t so many people out in force (about 6,500) as the rain pelted down and the sodden pitch didn’t exactly lend itself to any silky footballing skills. And the Phoenix lost 2-4 in a fairly horrendous display saved only by the odd flash of competency from Shane Smeltz (currently the top scorer in the A league and the only scorer in Wellington) and Richard Johnson.

But I enjoyed it. There was that same resigned demeanour that used to accompany those awful matches on Tuesday nights away to Chester City. You faced up to it like a martyr, as though you should be awarded your football supporter’s badge to sew onto the shoulder of your uniform. It may have been rubbish, but at least we were there.

One thing that ruins the determinedly festive atmosphere though is those appalling banging-together sticks. I think the marketing term is ‘thunder sticks’ but ‘blatant advertising slogans for people who don’t have the intelligence to clap their own hands’ might be more appropriate.

Usually seen at netball or Chinese stadiums where if you don’t follow the orchestrated regime you will get shot, these things are horrendous. Children love them because they love irritating things that make pointless noise. Actually, they are irritating things that make pointless noise. Their only saving grace is that they have given rise to the chant of ‘You can stick your f*%^ink sticks up your arse.’

Said friend from earlier in the piece reckons these would make it into my blog as the first in a line of sporadic ‘my latest least favourite things.’ Don’t get me started…

So just to recap - this is a football crowd:


And this is a netball crowd.

See the difference?