The Mixer

What this picture doesn’t show is that the ball was actually thirty yards away. Photo credit: Justyn Hardcastle

What this picture doesn’t show is that the ball was actually thirty yards away. Photo credit: Justyn Hardcastle

York’s clubs start season in fine form as onlookers wait for cracks to appear

What a start to the season it has been for sport at York. TM has rather enjoyed itself, one particular highlight was all and sundry, including messrs Asfahani and Ngwena attempting to dislodge a rugby ball trapped up a tree. Nobody was successful. We could call the fire brigade to get it out for us but they have had their ladders taken away from them by George Osborne. Bastard.

If Osborne wants to find a bit more cash for the national coffers, he could rather grumpily threaten to walk away from the country, wait for the press and David Cameron to get all upset about it, and then sign an improved contract. While TM understands that Osborne isn’t on a weekly wage of £180,000, we are aware he’s a wealthy man and if, as he claims, we’re all in this together, he could just take a few pennies out of his pocket to fund grassroots sport. If Cameron is such a fan of Association Football, as he so awkwardly claims, he would surely be happy to see community funding for sport increased? Or is his talk of football just an attempt to please voters?

Rugby is a man’s game. None of this diving or feigning injury that takes place on football fields every weekend. The physicality of the game is the main reason TM decided to pack it in at the beginning of Year 9, the coach wasn’t happy but the lure of ‘private study’ in the library was far too attractive to turn down.

There are times however when the more sensitive side of the game displays itself. Times when the macho facade slips and the “laddish” culture is stripped bare – literally. It is rare that this happens, thus it’s a special moment and as the picture to the right proves, TM is there to catch all the highlights and lowlights of the season. What a bum note to end on.

Sacre Bleu! – Pires at Crawley?

Photo credit: My Alternative Photos

If TM told you that former Arsenal player and leading exponent of Gallic indifference Robert Pires was in the frame to sign for Blue Square Premier outfit Crawley Town, you would be justified in questioning what hallucinogenic we had been quaffing.

The possibility of Pires’ shambling gait being on show at the Broadfield Stadium is, however, not a chemically induced reverie but a real possibility.

After shuffling and pouting his way out of Spanish football, the 36 year old is back training with Arsenal in an attempt to shape up for one last fling in English football – regardless of division it would seem.

Although you would think that a plethora of jobbing British managers at mid-table clubs, all of whom seem to have a penchant for signing aging continental enigmas, would jump at the chance to sign dear old Robert it seems that they have all ignored his (tabloidism ahoy) “Come and get me plea”.

So what now for the man who came to embody France and its cheek puffing, shoulder shrugging nonchalance in a way that only a pack of Gauloise or Marie Antoinette could?

Surely his talents would be better served forming a Super-Group of preposterously French footballers with David Ginola and Manu Petit. They could tour the country, S-Club Three style, winking at middle aged ladies and waving imaginary yellow cards at pedestrians. Expect them at Fibbers soon.

On a serious note why won’t a top flight club take a chance on Pires? Sure, he won’t boss games with the imperious flair of old but I would wager a sizeable sum of money on the fact that he is still better than Karl Henry.

It may be a gamble but, by the same token, signing a clean living, committed professional who never relied on pace anyway is not as risky as leaving your car outside Kevin Nolan’s house. Peter Taylor didn’t show half of this reluctance when he eagerly signed Ade Akyinbyi.

So, Ian Holloway, Tony Pullis, Sam Allardyce – I implore you to sign Robert Pires. Grant TM the simple joy of seeing a man who looks like he should be in an advert for John Paul Gautier play in a league of gnarled angry men once again.

Moment of the Week

Games won with the last kick of the game are always special. They’re even more special when the aforementioned kick caps off a resounding comeback. From 33-10 down Tom Weir’s rugby firsts came back to win 41-38. Lovely stuff.

Lowpoint of the Week

The women’s fencers fought tooth and nail to clinch promotion to the Premiership last season but were not confident going into their first game of this season. Some expected a hammering but York lost out by one point. Ouch.

Going, going, going…

STAYING! The songwriters of the Hokey Cokey loved Rooneygate as nothing has ever mirrored the classic line of ‘in, out, in, out’ more than his contract saga. Rumours that Ferguson made him sign the contract at gun-point are unproven.

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