Beckham Stays, Gomes Worries and Other Stories to Fill The Void
Forgive me while I vomit a few thoughts at you this afternoon. Nothing too strenuous. A midweek round-up, if you will. There’s that barbarous mix of ITV and an England international later on so it’s not likely to get much better.
That was the weekend that was, then. Amongst all the record breaking and unlikely comebacks there was another three points being hauled up by the resilient, steadfast troops of Hotspur. Again, from the depths of obscurity and again with time and fingernail length at their absolute limit. We really are a stubborn bunch of so-and-sos these days. On this occasion we have our auxiliary Croatian playmaker to thank- and his rather cultured left bat. Timely its appearance was, in every sense, jettisoning that bag of air so precisely toward the top corner, one would be forced to use such saccharine words as destiny and fate. The instant he made contact, the ball looked destined to burn through the slenderest of gaps past Jaaskelainen’s fingertip and into the net. Maybe not, but it sure felt that way. Like, all biblical and stuff.
If it weren’t for Kranjcar, then, the image embossed in our minds right now would be that of Gomes’ curiously twitching jaw. We’ve all seen it from time to time. When the Brazilian knows that all eyes are fixed on him and he’s generally been caught doing a wrong ‘un, so the muscles in his jaw-line start-a-trembling something fierce. There’s a new song in there you know. Presumably he’s trying to bite a hole in his inner cheek big enough for him to hide in. Pensive he looked. So very, very pensive.
Anyway, the penalties were a bit of a hoo-ha. I genuinely thought the stream I was watching was on a loop. With the language of the commentator unspecified, but certainly not of my mother tongue, it was literally impossible to decipher what in blazes was going on. Is it two-nil or not, I roared at the tiny box of fuzzy men running about the place. It all balanced itself out again, though, as Clattenburg’s pernickety stance on encroachment was overridden by him turning down a blatant penalty for the Boltonians. If Cahill dived then I’ve got a dinner jacket made out of bees. Yeah, exactly. Pretty unlikely.
Beckham’s with us for a while longer, it seems. Apparently he liked our gym equipment so much that he’s decided to renew his membership for a further two weeks. I do hope he’s replaced all those lemony anti-bacterial wipes. I really can’t abide by people who use them all up without bothering to tell anyone that they’ve done so. And don’t get me started on the little conical paper cups in the drinks dispenser. By thunder.
We’ve been told that his extended stay will be a good thing. And who are we to argue when all appears to be so right with the world? Relatively speaking, of course. Why not just say that Lennon’s steady return to form hasn’t been achieved by some form of osmosis through the golden appendage himself? If it helps us sleep at night. If it keeps us winning. That delightfully whipped cross by Van der Vaart last week? Oh sod it, let’s just say he learnt it all from Beckham. Heck, he might as well have it chalked it up as one of his own. Vintage DB. If I’m honest, though, I’d completely forgotten he was here. So, erm. Yeah.
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