joeldurston

Posts Tagged ‘Best of the Premiership’

2011/12 Premiership Season Review

In Sport on May 20, 2012 at 3:34 AM

O……M…….F……..G. Here at TAY we’re not usually prone to such teenage internet-speak, but the most  apocalyptic end to the most apocalyptic season (in living memory at least) had the marvellous ability to bring out the gawping, incredulous child in all of us. Alright there were some killjoys, but more fool them if they are either too serious (or joyless) to spurn the emotional thrill of football for the FT,  or hypocritical enough to enough to decry football while engrossed in the Saturday night fortunes of others who have the temerity to passionately pursue their dream.

But for the most of us – engorged in fat, fatuous cake of football, however self-consciously – here’s TAY’s attempt to make a method of this season’s undoubted, exhilarating madness…

Best match

How to choose. United v Everton? Chelsea v Arsenal? United v Arsenal? City v QPR? All great games in their own right. The obvious answer is of course the latter; City’s breathtaking 3-2 win this weekend against QPR, but, being a pretentious pedant, this was only so exciting when viewed in the context of the other games that day and the narrative of the season as a whole. In isolation it was just a perfectly normal, albeit exciting, win against a much lesser team. My pick is City’s landmark 6-1 win against United earlier this season because of its significance; confirmation, if it hadn’t already arrived, that City were no longer just the ‘noisy neighbours’ playing their dubstep at a slightly inconvenient yet ignorable level, but neighbours persistently urging to come over and join the dinner party. They wrangled the invite. The results were thrillingly messy.

Best team

At the start of the season, many if not most were consigning Swansea to relegation – myself included, despite having a soft spot for them due it being my mum’s hometown. It seemed likely they would become this season’s Blackpool; likable, attractive to watch, but ultimately too brittle and under-resourced for the Darwinnian, Hunger Games-esque world of the Premiership. That they definitively proved the naysayers wrong, whilst still retaining their integrity and playing style, is a tremendous credit to Brendan Rodgers and his players.

Best goal

Another very tough choice. Cisse (that one) and Suarez (the chip against Norwich) both scored amazing goals, but these were spontaneous moments of brilliance. Hatem Ben Arfa’s, my choice, showed several moments of genius, which all combined to make one spectacular whole – the quick-thinking backheel and then blistering pace to beat the two Bolton central midfielders, the thread-through-a-needle incision of the centre-halves, and the composed finished past Bogdan. Sublime.

Best player

Could be any one of a dozen or so – (in rough ascending order) Walker for tireless running; Ba/Cisse (pre- and post-Christmas, respectively); Bale if he – and spurs – didn’t go off the boil slightly; Rooney for consistent strike rate (and unusual temperament); Aguero for impish energy and finishing; Silva for effortless, elegant excellence; Hart for presence and world-class shot-stopping; Parker, Kompany and Toure for towering performances and leadership. But, admittedly with possible bias, I’m plumping for Van Persie, for the way he almost single-handedly brought Arsenal (hell, cover’s blown – ‘us’) Champions League football with 30 league goals – an eclectic mix of wonder-goals and tap-ins. There were times this joke seemed very apt: “The Robin Van Persie Tea Tray….carries 10 mugs”. Considering, a third-placed finish is a great achievement, and largely his.

Best character

A two-horse race, surely, between messrs Balotelli and Barton. The former an exuberant, enigmatic court jester, a man with the talent of the 21-year-old he is but the attitude of a 7-year-old. The latter a strange tri-chotomy, if you will, of a man – part sensitive, art-loving Smiths fan; part people’s philosopher (or fool); and part Scouse thug. Public perception has lurched staunchly to the latter view after Sunday’s moment of madness (or, perhaps, normality for him). So for this reason, Balotelli gets my vote. Super Mario was similarly a class-A prat against Arsenal, where he got sent off for a reckless challenge after he should have been sent off for an even more reckless challenge – actions that arguably nearly cost City the title, and may yet lead to his exit from the club. But, although this was one piece of crazy too much for many, Balotelli can largely pull off japes like playing Angry Birds on the bench for his national team (i.e. funny but disrespectful) due to his youthful joie de vivre – personally what football is all about. Barton would be pilloried, and rightly so.

Best howler

The cliché my nan could have scored that! is oft-used in football, but probably actually true in this case. Torres had actually had a good game this match at Old Trafford – not always with end product, but lively, and he produced one sumptuous chip to beat De Gea. The miss, however, typified his form. He took a through ball and rounded De Gea well, but missed an open goal from 6 yards under absolutely no pressure. People pored over the replays to look for an incriminating bobble, but there was none; just absolutely shocking tekkers, hilarious to the majority of football fans who love a bit of schadenfreude.

Best Manager

Could have equally gone to Brendan Rodgers (as best team could have Newcastle), but I’ve elected to give this to Alan Pardew for the way he has turned a very average team into serious Champions League hopefuls. And he did it the right way too. Contemporaries Liverpool splashed the clash yet floundered (in the league at least), but Pardew brought in relative unknowns for bargain-bucket prices and moulded them into a unit at once solid and exhibitive of fantastic, flowing football. Demba Ba on a free has to be signing of the season. Remember we were all outraged at nice guy Hughton being given his marching orders?! That this seems a distant memory is testament to Pardew’s transformation.

Dark horse

Would be Newcastle or Ba specifically, but since I’ve covered both already, I’ll go for Papiss Cisse, with a notable mention to reborn Hatem Ben Arfa. Pretty much unknown by everyone before he was bought in January (for £10m from Freiburg) – I’ll hold my hands up, I didn’t know who he was – Cisse has gone on to become a fans’ favourite. And unsurprisingly, given his 13 goals in 14 appearances, including some absolutely redonkulous ones such as the looped chip against Swansea and outside-of-the-foot, 35-yard banana shot against Chelsea, which probably would have returned back to him were it not for the net. Nice guy, too, as shown by his surprise visit to the home of the (overjoyed) primary school kid who drew a picture of him at school when he was meant to make a present for his folks. Who needs Carroll, eh?!

Best Funny moment

There’s been a few – there always will be with Super Mario around – but it’s got to go the Anfield cat. The stray, known to wander around the premises, livened up an otherwise drab encounter between Liverpool and Spurs, insouciantly trotting around Brad Friedel’s goalmouth and sitting down – much to the amusement of the players and fans – before being escorted off by a steward, earning 25,000 Twitter fans in the process. And in doing so, ‘Kenny’, as he’s been dubbed, made more of an impact at Anfield than Stewart Downing did all season. Miaow.

Best punditry

OK, so they’re both technically in the Champions League (the Chelsea/Barca semi), but it’s got to be a joint win between Gary Neville’s much-parodied orgasmic exhortations at Torres’ last minute goal and Geoff Shreeves’ brutally frank questioning of Branislav Ivanovic. Without so much as a personal congratulation for a typically resolute performance, Shreeves saw fit to demand of Ivanovic whether he was booked and, upon the bewildered Ivanovic answering in the affirmative, tell him in no uncertain terms he would miss the final. Talk about party-pooper. Made for great TV, though, in a similarly bonkers, brilliant season. Please no one burst the bubble.

Joel Durston