Sir Golden Balls?

So Capello's put ol' Golden Balls in charge.

A good shout I would say. Despite the critics who are suggesting it is a political appointment to raise our profile and increase the likelihood of us hosting the 2018 World Cup. Capello is taking a comparatively young team, having left most of the Champions' League players back home. It seems infinitely sensible to me to have someone of Beckham's leadership qualities and experience providing a steady hand at the helm.

He's becoming the Steve Redgrave of the footballing world in some ways. Someone you never dare write off.

And I have little doubt that one day he will follow in Sir Steve's footsteps and become Sir David Beckham. You can just imagine the conversation can't you:

HRH: Rise Sir David
Becks: Thank you Maam
HRH: Does one like the name "Golden Balls"?
Becks: Yes Maam, though I fear the gold has a little silver amongst it these days
HRH: (whispers) And does one still wear one's wife's underwear?
Becks: (whispers back) No Maam. I found them too restrictive when I needed to score from 70 yards.

I'm So Excited

I'm very excited.

I've had another email today. This time it is from the author of another football blog. She is looking for lady soccer bloggers to participate in a roundtable discussion post about the forthcoming European Championships - you know, the ones we aren't in.

Anyway she has invited me to take part. Can you imagine? Little Georgina. The girl who until just over a year ago hated football, was trying to work out how to 'do' it.

From what I understand, we will be talking about the football tournament itself, along with some chat about hot players.

Like I ever notice....................

Now as you know, football punditry is not new to me. I do have some experience.

But I can feel the weight of responsibility upon my shoulders. This is the World Wide Web after all.

So I'm off to engage in some serious revision to ensure my expertise is razor sharp. I might find out a bit about the tournament too.

Who Should I Cheer For?

I don't know about you but one of the things I like about football is no matter what happens there is always something new to look forward to.

Even after the main season ended we had the Champions' League Final, the play-offs for the various leagues and last night the friendly against USA.

Talking of which, and to digress for a moment, I though Hargreaves should have been MOTM, loved the potential of the Defoe/Rooney partnership even thought it didn't really come off last night and Peter Crouch is still my favourite bendy man.

Anyway back to things to look forward to.

In a world where things are as they should be me and my fellow England fans would, of course, be getting excited about our campaign in the forthcoming Euro 2008. You can't have helped by notice the slightly desperate attempts by the BBC to get us interested by choosing another team to support. Whilst their persistent somewhat transparent attempts to kindle our enthusiasm are a little irritating, my experience tells me the competition will be more interesting and enjoyable if I have some sort of 'stake' in it, albeit through a temporary allegiance to a team who at a future time will become an enemy.

But how do I choose? Who should I cheer for?

Well as luck would have it I received an email today from someone with a solution to this problem. No need to go down the route of getting photos of all the teams and seeing who had the best eye candy in the pack. I no longer have to think about the colour of strips or if I like the food of the country.

What my correspondent suggests is an ethical approach. So taking account of each nation's 'green' and other credentials.

According to the analysis I should be supporting Sven's lot.

I'll probably opt for France though and plant a couple of trees instead.

D Day

What have these things got in common?:

• The Magna Carta was sealed
• The £2 coin was introduced
• Hungry defeated El Salvador in the 1982 World Cup by 10 goals to 1
• Hitler first met Mussolini
• Wat Tyler, leader of the Peasant's revolt, was executed

No idea?

Well they all happended on June 15th.

Not a date most of us have etched on our minds it has to be said.

Until now.

All of a sudden it has become a significant football date.

Firstly, Shinawatra has announced that poor Sven will find out his fate then, presumably if he has not managed to find a suitable replacement. Even if he does stay, which seems unlikely, you can't imagine it is going to be the warmest of working relationships.

Secondly, and of course most importantly, we Foxes should know who our new manager is going to be.

Billy Davis? Paul Lambert? Paul Ince?

No chance we'll get a girl I suppose.......................

So look out for it - June 15th is D for Decision day.

How To Speak Football

One of the things I have learned on my journey into football is the extent to which it has a language of its own.

For example, no self-respecting football fan or pundit would miss an opportunity to add colour to their dialogue with such classics as "At the end of the day" and "To be fair".

Then there is the 'statement of the bleedin' obvious', which forms an essential part of any football conversation. Like - "At the end of the day it's a game of two halves".

And for those for whom English is not a first language, (yes that includes you Mr Capello), this site offers a helpful tutorial on the potentially confusing expressions used not only by those in the football world but which have infiltrated our language on a daily basis.

Presumably there are equally things a proper football fanatic would never say:

"I shan't bother going to the match tomorrow. I'm staying in to wash my hair"

"It's not the winning it's the taking part"

"Eat a pie? I couldn't possibly"

Anyway I'm going to play it safe tonight, kick the troubles of the day into touch, lie on my clean sheet and snuggle up early doors.

Open Mouthed

I cast my eye around the footballing world today, wondering what to post about.

There is Stockport's victory over Rochdale in the League 2 playoffs of course.

The most recent sad story about Gazza's troubles.

And of course the inevitable speculation about the possibility of a return to the Bridge by Mourhino.

My favourite story though was this.

The magic lives on.

Crash And Burn

I love Donny.

Not this Donny.

But this Donny.

Because today they made Leeds fans do this.

Which means we get to fight The Devil next season.

Crash and burn.

I love it.

What Georgina's Seen In Her Crystal Ball

Sven for Chelsea.

Billy Davis for Leicester.

You heard it here first.

Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

I'm delighted to report that the yellow guitar proved a big hit.

I don't see my step daughter and her family very often so it was really lovely to spend some time with them. Her husband is a big Bristol City fan so he had everything crossed for the big match.

I'm sad they lost really. Although they have been a rival Championship team I would have liked to see a South West football team in the Premiership.

I was sad too to leave this evening. I did take great comfort from the joy of seeing them all though and planting the first seeds of rock and roll in my grandson's heart.

It's been a day of partings. So long to Ian Holloway. Farewell to Avram Grant.

Parting is such sweet sorrow isn't it?

Au revior.

Childsplay

I went to Toys R Us today.

I don't get to go very often because my children are grown up, but my step daughter has two children aged 3 and 1. My daughter and I are visiting them tomorrow so it was a great excuse to visit the store and wander round wishing I was about 40 years younger.

I've bought my grandson(3) the grooviest yellow toy guitar and my granddaughter(1) a workbench and hammer. I'm going to take my own guitar with me so my grandson can singalong with Nana Georgina.

Not surprising then that some of this week's football stories have put me in mind of childhood stories and behaviour.

For example, Mr Mandaric's plea for us Foxes fans to trust him inevitably made me think of this.

And this story reminded me of this kind of antic.

And of course Drogba's histrionics bring to mind this well known children's story.

What I can't really decide is if this a fair portrayal of Avram Grant's ability to manage.

On the shoulders of giants

Is an album by this band of course. Georgina's away tonight. I'm standing in. I'm Georgina's lover.

Georgina keeps a .....er......Blog Log. This means she knows over 300 hundred people a day visit this Blog.

She mentioned this to me (quite airily I thought) in passing recently.

What I'm saying is that she has a loyal readership and suddenly, I'm let loose. So, it's an onerous responsibility to write a page for her.

BTW, Georgina is off with her Mum doing stuff but will be back tomorrow.

Been thinking all day what to write about football but most things are done and dusted. Will the hoops will win the Scottish premiership by default, and (more interestingly for me, because I come from here) will Bristol City triumph over the Humberside lot?

That said, there is other drama coming up with Euro 2008. I'm supporting Spain because I love the country.

Finally, I just need to air an obsession of mine around the debate of whether capitalism is ruining/building football ?

I then had the thought I'd tell you a bit about Georgina and so I will.

However, time and space precludes me from waxing lyrical. Nonetheless, she has a real good sense of Rock and Rock and grace.

You'll gather now she's not to be messed with.

Georgina is a very new football fan. She is genuinely learning about this game people love. Her choice of clubs, the foxes, is a compelling one. On more than one occasion, (in the early seventies) when I was at RAF North Luffenham, I went see them at Filbert St .

Since she took them on, I've been to The Walkers a few times to see them play. I'm half-glad Hollow-way is staying. It would be too disruptive to move him on ?

What saddens me most is that it'll be at least a season before you stuff this horrible outfit.

You will be back. There's no doubt in my mind such a great and traditional club will survive and prosper. The more the fans rally behind the club now, the greater your chances of fantastic success.

One conversation Georgina and I have had is exemplified in this debate.

Can a new football fan change their allegiance because it is so new ?

You'll have guessed her response was in the negative . She's as true fan as you will see.

Now you know one of the reasons I adore her.

She'll be back.

What's The Carbon Footprint Of A Cuddle?

I'm sorry for my absence yesterday. I didn't get home until 12.30 this morning after going to watch my lover's son's band.

I was going to post about a conversation I had with my Dad tonight. It went something like this (phone called happened at half time in the Champion's League Cup match);

Georgina: Are you watching the Champion's League final?
Georgina's Dad: No. Why would I do a thing like that?
Georgina: Loads of people are watching it. And I know you have been known to watch the odd big match
Georgina's Dad: I don't even know who's playing

Georgina then proceeds to explain to Dad who is playing and the importance of the match, and so on and so forth.

Georgina's Dad: What I don't understand is why two Engish teams have gone all the way to Moscow. What sort of carbon footprint must that match have. I know someone who got fined for having his recycling bin too full. Where's the sense in that?
He's got a point.

Anyway, like I said, I'm not going to post about that.

Instead I want to talk about (of course) THE match.

Of the two I wanted the ManUre to win, although as the game went on I couldn't bear the thought of someone losing. So after the drama of the penalty shootout, whilst I enjoyed the celebrations of the ManUre (even if Ronaldo is the biggest drama queen out), I couldn't help but be touched by the distress of the Chelsea players.

John Terry (who to be fair I don't much care for usually) was inconsolable.

But the fascinating thing for me was seeing how that toadian rhino of a man Avram Grant comforted him with such sensitivity. He gave him a right old cuddle.

Well several actually.

I thought "What an amazing scene."

And then I thought "That cuddle's got one hell of a carbon footprint."

Dethpicable

I've heard some 'disappointing' stories from the world of football today.

The poor Portsmouth players who had their F.A. Cup winners' medal stolen.

The booing of both Portsmouth and Cardiff fans when the national anthem of the other team was played at Saturday's match.

Drogba's claims that he was encouraged by Jose Mourinho to deliberately get yellow cards to get a bit of extra holiday time.

And McClaren has been offered another job as a football manager.

I have only one thing to say to those thieves, those fans, Drogba (and Jose if it is true) and McClaren.

And that is this.

Monkeys Ruined My Lover's Life

When I first got to know my lover he told me a story of the day he went to Longleat and how monkeys had ripped off his car ariel.

Since then, he frequently harps back to this tale, although each time it becomes a little more embellished.

Whenever anything goes wrong with his car he blames it on this event. If his windscreen wipers are playing up it is because the monkeys had a go at those too. If his tyres are a bit flat he says it is probably because the monkeys messed with the valves and they have never been the same since.

Now you may be wondering what this has got to do with football.

Well you see I think there are parallels between this phenomenon and some of myths, legends and stories around in football.

For example, every club has their 'legends'. These are the perfect ones. Players who never put a foot wrong, who were single handedly responsible for every match won and whose status only grows over time. You will never hear a proper fan say anything bad about one of their 'legends'. Because of course there is nothing to tell.

But more telling than this . More deeply ingrained in the psyche than the mere phenomenon of the odd good player. As strongly felt as a vehicular assault by monkeys, is the story of a perceived wrong done.

Just ask any Tottenham fan about Sol Campbell. Or a Celtic fan about Paul Gascoigne.

And like the status of legends, the sense of injustice and wrong doing grows with time.

Just like my lover's resentment about those monkeys, who I have no doubt will one day be credited with ruining his life.

Sweet F.A.

I have had the sweetest of days today.

First I awoke to the morning radio discussion about the F.A. Cup, whilst getting ready to walk down into town to the Farmer's market.

My lover and I cruised around looking for goodies to purchase in readiness for the afternoon's extravaganza. Organic, free range Scotch eggs (mine a veggie version of course). Olives. Fresh bread. Strawberries. And an almond croissant.

A trip in the car to Aldi followed, listening to more F.A. Cup build up. More goodies purchased. Some vintage cider and white chocolate.

We were ready.

Quarter to three, We're on the settee with our feet up, tucking in to the eggs and other savouries, washed down with a glass of cider.

1 - 0. Half time.

Sharing the almond croissant with strawberries as garnish. Accompanied by a coffee.

1 0. Full time. Up Pompey!

A little after match celebration.

And now posting whilst my lover prepares crayfish tails and salad sandwiches.

Followed by one of these.

So that's what they mean by Sweet F.A.

Geek Tragedy

I like to think of myself as a pretty cool chick who is interested in a whole range of things.

But I have to confess I also have a geeky side that finds facts and figures absolutely compelling.

So when I came across this I thought I had died and gone to heaven. 10 minutes of complete joy!

Geeks get a bad press in my view. In the right circumstances they can be very useful.

I don't think I'll ever rate highly enough on the "geekometer" to qualify for this list though.

According to this assessment I am 57.5% geeky.

Do let me know how you score.

A Whisper In The Cacophony

In amongst the noise of Avram Grant shrieking that referees favour The ManUre, the furore following the behaviour of a small minority of Glasgow Rangers fans last night and the whoops of delight from Hull fans after their victory against Watford last night - in amongst all that, a football legend quietly slipped away.

Tommy Burns sadly lost his battle against skin cancer at the tender age of 51. 6 years older than me, which is a sobering thought.

He was originally diagnosed with the disease in 2006 but things took a downward turn a few weeks ago.

May he never walk alone.

Bathing In Porridge

Inspired by yesterday's post I decided to seek ways to immerse myself in Scottishness to get in the mood for tonight's match.

First I drove to work listening to the gorgeous voice of Alan Brazil. Mmm don't you just love that man's vocal chords.

Then I talked football on and off all day with my colleague Sandy. Who happens to be Glaswegian.

After work I met up with my brother and we went out for supper. The man who served me at the bar was a Scot (I concluded this because he spoke with a Scottish accent. No flies on me!)

Thinks: "Shall I try a football conversation with him? Of course he could be a Celtic fan. Ah what the heck - let's go for it anyway!"

Georgina: You must be the only Scot outside of Manchester.
McBarman: Grrrowl! I'm on the other side

Thinks: "Chance for a quick quip here. What about 'Oh I didn't realise you were Russian'? Mmm - perhaps not"

Georgina: Oh, a Celtic fan.
McBarman: I'd rather be anywhere else in the world than Manchester today
Georgina: I have this vision that the whole of Glasgow is empty tonight
McBarman: No - it's full of us lot, glad the rest of them are out of the way
Georgina: Can I order some food please. I'd like the vegetarian rissotto.
McBarman: Certainly. That will be nine thousand pounds please.

And now I plan to end my day with my feet up, sipping a glass of whisky, nibbling a piece of shortbread and fiddling with my lover's kilt.

See you tomorrow.

Awae Tae Eenvade Tha Sasanacks

I haven't ventured north of the border at all since I began my foray into football.

But with Glasgow Rangers playing in the UEFA cup final tomorrow night I thought it was about time I donned my kilt, ran my fingers through my sporran and rolled in porridge oats (yes well we all have different ways of expressing ourselves!)

Walter Smith their manger is something of a controversial character it would seem from my reading on the subject. For example his team has been accused of playing "anti-football", an accusation that has also previously been levelled at our very own Mr Capello.

Doesn't seem to phase the Rangers supporters though, who despite only having an allocation of 13,000 tickets for tomorrow's match are taking 100,000 down to Manchester.

And if that doesn't give you a measure of the Scottish passion for the beautiful game, the Scottish Qualification Authority has issued a warning to school pupils not to sacrifice taking their exams on Wednesday and Thursday to go on the pilgrimage.

Well if any of those scholars are reading this I may be able to help with a bit of revision. And for the rest of us what better way to end than with a few wise Scottish saying, with translation for those less familiar with the tongue;

A bheil telebhisean agad?
We’re from the Wee Free and are hunting down God-forsaking heathens.

Ilka body disna hae the like o that.
He seems to have contracted H5N1 Bird Flu.

Better never begun than never ended.
Never do anything today that you can put off until tomorrow.

Better be freends at a distance than enemies at hame.
The perfect divorce is one that doesn't require a court restraining order.

Cast a cat ower the hoose an she'll faa on her feet.
A cat thrown over a house will land on her feet - but her screeching is sure to attract the RSPCA.

Him that keeks throu a keyhole micht see what will vex him.
Love does not stoop to spying - it hires a private detective.

Baked bread and brown ale winna bide lang.
Oh shit – I’m away tae the lavie again!

Mony a mickle maks a muckle.
Due to rampant inflation the muckle has been revalued – there are now 385 mickles to the muckle.

Don't tell me this blog is not a education all of it's own

Vive La Resurrection

I did a bit of gardening tonight when I got home from work.

There I was pulling up groundweed as I heard that worm in the shrubbery David Sullivan of Birmingham City blaming the players for all their problems, calling them a load of rubbish and even naming one of them, Franck Queudrue. Listening to the fans who rang in fed up as I upended the dandelions.

And for some odd reason the image of Martin Allen, the green fingered Maddog of 12 week Leicester fame, came into my head.

I wonder what he's been up to I thought.

Well I gather from my lover he was on Talk Sport the other day. Quite impressive too by all accounts. Knows his football apparently.

Maybe his impending radio appearence was the reason for him getting his hair done.

I'm sure it is pure coincidence that he has risen from the dead at just the time when clubs will be scanning the horizon for someone new to solve all their troubles within the first 10 games of next season.

And talking of rising from the dead, I gather there is currently no vacancy at Leicester City, who have a manager thank you very much.

Not "The Special One" admittedly. Just "The Precious One".

It'll do for now though.

Best Of Both Worlds

So here's my dilemma.

What should I devote my attention to this afternoon?

It's billed as the best end to a Premiership season ever. So much to be settled;

Who wins the Premiership?
Who will go down?

My predictions, for what they are worth, are The ManUre to win and Birmingham and Reading to do down (sorry lover!)
On the other hand my daughter is in a dance competition in about an hour and I would like to see her. Experience tells me that it will be a very hot sticky and crowded experience, although I do love watching her dance.

Shame I can't have the best of both worlds.

I think in the end maternal feelings will prevail.

And surely no-one will really notice the tiny lead trailing from my ear, under my hair to the little radio tucked in my thong...................................

No Way Out?

Big day for my lover's Royals tomorrow.

Hopefully, Kevin Dillon won't live to rue his undignified words about Derby.

If the worst happens and they are relegated, I think we'll have to put a red cross on our front door with a sign saying "Unclean". I mean two in one household. How shameful would that be?

Interesting too that Mr Coppell is being so coy about his future should Reading go down.

Lets hope they can follow in these footsteps.

Stevie does not have a track record of escapology though.

Maybe I should drop him a last minute email with details of this website.

I'm off now to practise on my lover and see just how good those Royals are at getting out of a fix.

Only The Flies Will Know

Oh to be a fly on the wall at a certain meeting on Monday.

How do you think it might go?

MM: Ah come in Ian old chap. You must be feeling as upset as the rest of us. Before we discuss anything else, you need to know that I don't blame you in any way. You came into an impossible situation and despite your best efforts couldn't save the club from relegation. I know though that you are the right man for the job and I look forward to working with you to rebuild this club.

Not convinced?

Well how about;

MM: Hello Ian. Do sit down. We have got a lot to talk about and I have some difficult decisions to make about the future here at Leicester City. One of those is whether you should form part of that future or not. I'd like to hear what you have to say about that and what your ideas are for making this club great again. I hope we can find a way forward together, although I can't make any promises at this stage.

Still not sure?

In which case;

MM: Holloway you t**t. You're fired!

We will get to know the outcome in due course.

But only the two protagonists and the flies will really know what happens in that room.

Tears Before Bedtime

Several stories in the news today have made me think of this song.

I can see a few tears being shed one way or another during the coming days and weeks.

Mr Hollow Way is no doubt dusting off his Kleenex as we speak.

Then there is Special K, who has apparently been 'summoned' to explain himself to his Board Chair, Mr Ashley.

And you have to feel sorry for Manchester City fans as Sven prepares to go off to pastures new.

Mark Hughes is taking his ball home following Michael Carrick's successful planning application to build a house opposite his (isn't that taking inter-club rivalry just a little too far?)

And Mr Capello is by no means out of the woods as investigations into his business affairs.

But all these are people who make their living out of football.

There are others with tears on their pillow.

Spare a thought for us.

Things Are Not Always What They Seem

I feel as if I have been in freefall a bit over the last few days.

The shock of our relegation. The wondering what will happen short term and long term. The lack of any sense of where my team fits in the universe (apart from the obvious of course).

Today we had our first bit of news which will start to build a new pathway to the future. Milan Mandaric has pledged to stay with us.

Although I hope he doesn't mean anything too literal when he says;

"We have see what was done right and wrong, correct it quickly and immediately and go forward to win games and show Leicester City in a new colour."

Blue works well for us Mandy. We'd just like to win please.

I would also like to thank all of you who support other teams who have left kind comments on this blog. My lover says only football supporters can understand what a time such as this feels like and he is right.

Of course Leicester's problems are all very public at the moment (particularly so at a staff meeting at work today when under 'Any Other Business' the HR Officer offered her condolences for the plight of Leicester!). And it is easy to look at other apparently almost unassailable teams who seem to have it all and think we are the only ones with troubles.

As with most things in life, however, things are rarely what they seem. Look at Liverpool for example. Plus this fellow blogger has good evidence that The ManUre are in financial trouble. And it's hard to imagine there won't be tears at Manchester City before too long.

So maybe those people who have said encouraging things over the last few days are right. Things aren't as bad as they seem.

Onwards and upwards then.

Leicester 'til I die!

Red Letter Day

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way"
Charles Dickens "A Tale Of Two Cities"

The quote above sums up my experiences of this Sunday.

On the same day that my beloved Leicester was relegated to the third tier of English football, I celebrated the 21st birthday of my beautiful daughter.

Both events brought tears to my eyes. Both events pulled at my heartstrings.

I didn't go the match. Instead, I sat chopping cucumber batons as I listened to the radio commentary on the link given to me by another Foxes fan some time ago. I listened as the other critical games (Southampton v Sheffield United and Sheffield Wednesday v Norwich) progressed.

I knew of course that we were at serious threat of relegation. Yet despite the doom and gloom of my recent posts, deep down I thought we would probably pull through by the skin of our teeth.

But as the final minutes were ticking by I could feel the sense of inevitable failure growing. I felt bewildered - not just by the horror of it all ,but at the depth of my own reaction.

There are probably some of you who read this blog who don't regard me as a proper fan. I can understand that. I know for many football fans the love of their club goes back as far as they can remember. I know too that the tone of my posts is often tongue in cheek and that my whole journey into football was a reluctant one.

Trust me though I am hurting. It's like a bereavement.

And then, like I said, there was my daughter's 21st celebration. Yes of course my son and his mates TTP relentlessly. Yes of course I had all sorts of clever comments about black armbands and offers to get free tickets to watch Leicester v Hereford United next season.

But I also had the joy of watching my girl, now a beautiful young woman, share with her love of life with others. Which somehow helped put things into perspective.

So what next? Well Mandaric is reported to have said he wants a few days to 'calm down' before making a decision which seems wise.

I can't see Hollow Way staying though. He came into a difficult situation but he didn't have what it takes IMO.

Suggestions for replacement have included Iain Dowie and Steve Walsh.

I'm going to adopt Mr Mandaric's approach for a few days though before I get sucked into the frenzy of speculation and prediction. Just sit back, lick my wounds and remind myself that tomorrow is another day.

And that where there is life there is hope. Especially when you are 21.

NOTICE

There will be no post today.

Georgina Best is officially in mourning.

The Man Called Uncle

I've been to see my Uncle Ken today.

We were picking up a cake for my daughter's 21st birthday party tomorrow which my Auntie made. She has been to night classes to learn about cake decoration and has made an amazing job of it. Must have taken hours. Bless her!

Anyway, my Uncle Ken is a really groovy dude. He is kind and clever and funny.

And he likes football.

I remember him going to see Hereford United when I was a little girl. And when I was at his house today I noticed he had a load of ManUre video tapes and books.

Georgina: You are a Man United fan then.
Uncle Ken: Yes. Do you like football?
Georgina: I do. I've only been into it for the last year or so though.
Uncle Ken: What team do you support?
Georgina: Leicester City
Uncle Ken: My best mate is a Leicester City supporter.

It's like I've said before. We get everywhere us Foxes fans.

And there are lots of us.

Lots of us who will be waiting tomorrow with breath held and fingers crossed.

Waiting to see if tomorrow turns out like this. Or like this.

What's The Buzz?

So what's buzzing in the football world today?

Well there is a whisper that the delicious Jose may return to England as manager at Manchester City. Or maybe Scolari.

And there is a definite hum in the air that Liverpool are after Villa's Gareth Barry.

But of course the real buzz is around Sunday's Championship fixtures, which will decide the fate of a number of teams, including my beloved Foxes.

Ian Holloway says;

"I accept full responsibility for all the things that have happened, we want to make it right, but we have one game to make it right. These are the times you need to fight and battle - I can assure you that's what the lads intend to do."

The betting odds against us going down don't offer much hope either.

Lets hope those Foxes get the wind beneath their wings and fly.

Otherwise I fear a fatal sting.

Satan's Cheerleaders

So Leeds lost their appeal today.

My reaction? Well this about sums it up.

Those of you who have been reading this blog regularly will know that one of the lessons I learnt very early on in my football career is that Leeds United are a team to be reviled and that their then manager Denis Wise was ... well one of these.

And whilst I try not to indulge in schadenfreude too often, I couldn't help but enjoy their relegation and point deduction last year.

It never ceases to amaze me that anyone could be a devil worshiper. I've had met the odd one or two on my travels.

I try to be kind to them of course. I like to think of them as 'misguided'.

After all, even the sweetest of characters can be corrupted.

It's up to the rest of us to help them see the light.

So I'd like to make a suggestion. Why don't we all make a pledge to seek out a Leeds Fan this weekend and try to convert them to a more righteous path.

Such as becoming a Foxes fan maybe?!