If It’s Transfer Gossip You Want…
The weather outside is frightful, so the yuletide ditty goes. Much the same could be said about the transfer gossip which has been doing the rounds this week. Frightful is a strong word. Meh, is more accurate. The January sales loom and already the rather heady mix of misfiring strikers and a casualty list that would make Florence Nightingale go pale in the face has set the media whizzes into action. All the usual combinations have been thrown up. It’s like sifting for gold in the contents of the hoover bag.
Adebayor, Cahill, Steven Taylor. You’ve probably heard these. Pick a tabloid and you’ll have found at least one of them. My concerns with Steven Taylor are two-fold. Firstly- and he can hardly be to blame for this- I went to school with a young man of that name. I shan’t go into too much detail but let’s just say he wasn’t allowed to use the scissors. If you get my meaning. Whenever I hear the Geordie stopper’s name mentioned, it’s that Taylor I think of. Or Frogger, as he was better known. The other worry is that with a few more injuries to key men, we might just be rocking the same centre-back pairing that did an awfully good job of getting Newcastle relegated two seasons back. Obviously I’m not suggesting…
Still, I’d rather Gary Cahill if he were to become available. For the right price. And correct number of tattoos. As for Adebayor- in some ways the Togolese knee-skidder would appear to be the perfect fit. Strong, athletic, decent record in England. He also has the handy advantage of playing for a non-Champions League mob. In others, though, you’d have to worry that his- almost guaranteed to be- ludicrous wage demands would cause our finance department to run through the streets of London and throw their books in the river- for all the chance they’d have of balancing them again.
Elsewhere, The Metro have gone for an altogether different angle. Different not necessarily meaning true, but it’s interesting all the same. Ante Vukusic is the boy. And boy he is. Nineteen years of age an apparently torching the –cough- Croatian leagues to cinders. What we can say for sure- and it might be the only grain of substance in the entire story- ‘Arry likes his Croats. Here he is in action. Kablammo!
I’m off to find Steven Taylor on Facebook.
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