Brilliance and petulance: The enigma of Wayne Rooney

By JOE MORRIS.

After a difficult week, all would seem to be well in Wayne’s World. Wayne Rooney, he of the childish sulk and the tetchy tantrum, has got his temper under control. If he tucks in his shirt and stands up straight, then Rooney may become the English centre-forward most of us were hoping for.

In the 4-0 friendly victory over Slovakia at Wembley, he re-discovered some of his best goal- scoring form. The 23-year-old Manchester United striker is beginning to look the finished article. We always knew, of course, that if Rooney sat up at the table and didn’t fidget then everything would fall into place.

This is all a case of observing footballing etiquette. If you receive the right service from your midfielders, then goals will flow like a river. Throughout the ages, of course, England strikers have always been dependent on the right ball at the right time. Rooney is one of the most natural and hungry of attacking predators. But when the clouds are in the wrong position and the moon isn’t quite where it should be, he simply blows hot and cold.

Last week, Rooney took an alarming step back into the school playground. At Fulham he chucked the ball furiously at the referee, growled at the grass and was then sent off. It was the kind of petulant outburst that some of us are now sadly accustomed to.

But Rooney is now ready to mix it in more elevated company. Whenever he had the ball, England always looked at their most dangerous and threatening. There was a rugged masculinity about Rooney’s game that made you proud to be English.

When the likes of Tom Finney, Stan Matthews and Stan Mortensen were in their attacking pomp, England always looked ready and waiting to pull the goal-scoring trigger. They had guts, red-blooded desire and total commitment to the cause.Rooney was the most visible focal point for all of England’s most positive attacks. He hassled, harried and bustled for possession as if his international future was at stake. If the ball was unforgivably lost, Rooney would make a Herculean effort to win it back. He is a model of persistence and perseverance. Alongside the record-breaking David Beckham, Rooney scored two trademark goals.

A delicate Beckham chip from the byline enabled the Rooney neck muscles to power home his header. But within the Rooney make up is the alertness to the half chance and a ceaseless involvement in the game. He’s the big shouldered, strapping striker who just haunts defenders.

When the final whistle went at Wembley, Rooney smiled contentedly at the crowd, trooped back to the sanctuary of the dressing room and then looked ahead to his next assignment. Ukraine may just be quaking in their boots.

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The Clough name lives on at Derby

By JOE MORRIS (making his Soccermongery debut). Joe takes a look at the Cloughs, their bond with each other - and Derby.

The relationship between father and son is always a special one, but for Nigel Clough the bond with his dad, Brian, could never be broken. Father and son were never less than best friends and you somehow knew that one day Nigel would do exactly; the same job as his doting dad.

Earlier this month, Nigel Clough became the new manager of Derby County, 42 years after Ol' Big 'Ead breezed into the old Baseball Ground. In 1967 Clough senior was an unknown, Derby were struggling at the wrong end of the old Second Division and a band from Liverpool were conquering the world.

After serving a stern 10-year apprenticeship at non-league Burton Albion, a boy called Nigel has been catapulted into the deep end at Championship club Derby County. Which is roughly where Clough senior came in. By the end of Brian Clough's career both Derby County and Nottingham Forest had become household names with trophies galore.

Brian Clough won League championships in abundance with both Derby and Forest, boasting one of the most identifiable of voices. He was forthright, opinionated, an infuriating nuisance at times but always accessible to both the public and media alike. He once called an eccentric Polish goalkeeper a clown, hollered obscenities at his players when close season training wasn't going according to plan, and in a League Cup match against QPR, lashed out at Rangers supporters.

In their Carling Cup semi-final against Manchester United last week, Nigel Clough sat quietly in the Directors Box remembering the good times with dad. In contrast to his controversial father, Nigel, it would seem, is an altogether different footballing boss. It remains to be seen whether Nigel will tell his players exactly what he thinks of them and whether cups and saucers are thrown in the dressing room.

Clough junior, apart from bearing an uncanny resemblance to Ol' Big 'Ead, is also a devoted family man. He will set out his footballing theories, put a sympathetic hug around his players when things go pear-shaped and then undoubtedly demand three points and the Champions League trophy

When he was at Burton Albion all Clough had to deal with was a postage stamp sized ground, little or no money for new players and the electricity bills. Non-league clubs are the poor relations in football's great pyramid, so when he takes his place for his first match as Derby boss the culture shock may just startle him.

He will climb into the Pride Park dug out, take in the glamorous surroundings and wonder what he's letting himself for. In the old days Derby's Baseball Ground would often resemble a gravel pit. Brian Clough would walk out on the pitch, politely applaud his adoring supporters and then watch his much revered side including John McGovern, Archie Gemmell, Kevin Hector and John O'Hare.

The task that faces son Nigel is entirely different and this time there are no European cups or League Championships on the immediate horizon. There is no Peter Taylor to confide in when the boys are under-achieving, only a reliable back room staff to hand out reassurance.

When Nigel the younger was growing up, dad Brian would often take him to to all the matches. You can still see the little boy in shorts sitting excitedly next to his dad and just smiling. True Brian Clough was a master motormouth, tactlessness personified and a man with no regard for the niceties. But he taught his players all of the game's finer virtues and he also encouraged them to treat the ball like a favourite uncle.

If Nigel Clough can make half the same impact as his monumentally successful dad then Derby County could well be back in the big time in no time. During one League encounter against Manchester City, a groundsman had to run on to the pitch to paint a penalty spot.

From the resultant penalty Derby scored. Brian Clough would have seen the funny side of that one isolated incident. If Nigel Clough can keep looking at the bright side of life then Derby County could be grinning from ear to ear.

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Playing a 39th game overseas will NEVER work!

By MARCUS STEAD.

Alright, alright! I'm giving Marcus the platform he deserves for this well-argued piece. Personally, I like the 39th Game idea, although I confess it doesn't quite resonate with the same force it did pre-Credit Crunch. Here's Marcus!

Most football fans I speak to seem to agree with me that the Premier League has lost some of its appeal. Some of the sparkle that made it such an attractive product in the mid-90s seems to have gone.

I’ve noticed that most of my mates aren’t as eager to see every televised game as they once were. Over the last few years, they haven’t been quite so keen to make sure they’ve finished their Sunday dinner by the time the first of two live Premier League matches comes on. They don’t seem as bothered if their girlfriends want to take a trip to the DIY store on a Sunday afternoon either.

The evidence supports my case. Viewing figures for the FA Cup have dropped alarmingly this season, and I don’t think it’s because the rights have transferred from the BBC to ITV. Some people may prefer their football on one channel over another, but I don’t for one second think that’s a decisive factor as to whether or not they watch the game.

The truth is football needs a shot in the arm- something that’ll capture the public’s imagination the way the new and glamorous Premier League did in the 92/93 season.

At present, the entire bottom half of the table are worthy candidates for relegation. Many of these teams have their share of journeymen who enjoy a hefty pay packet and don’t feel any sense of loyalty or ambition to their clubs. Too often, their managers send them out to play negative, ugly football, and in these tough economic times, the fans are voting with their feet.

Football requires a revolution on the same scale as the formation of the Premier League, and failure to do so will see the steady decline in interest which is well underway escalate over the next few years.

Various ideas have been floating around as to how best to do this, most of which are quickly and rightly dismissed as completely impractical. However, one proposal that has repeatedly been suggested during the last 12 months or so is playing an extra round of matches of overseas. Their inspiration for this proposal often comes from the success the NFL have had in staging matches at Wembley. I’m sure its many advocates are well intentioned, but really, this idea needs to be put to bed now!

When we think of English football’s global appeal, we generally think of a few clubs. Certainly, Manchester United and Liverpool have strong fan bases in Asia and other parts of the world, but does it really span much beyond that? Is there really any demand for Premier League football in other parts of the world that does not involve the top four? Let’s look at this weekend’s fixtures for inspiration:

I can see demand for tickets for Man Utd v Liverpool being massive just about anywhere where football has any kind of fan base. But how well would Sunderland v Wigan go down in Bangkok? Or what about Bolton v Fulham in Johannesburg? Or perhaps West Ham v West Brom in Shanghai? Come on, it’s hard enough to persuade people from West Brom to go and watch them play!

The second problem this would create is that it would massively devalue the league system. If, as Churchill said, democracy is the worst form of government except all the others that have been tried, then a league system is the least worst way of establishing which football team is consistently the best. Every team plays every other team home and away over the course of a season, and the team with the most points at the end wins the league.

Of course, it’s not perfect and can never be completely fair. There will always be injury lay-offs which were no fault of the player or the club, suspensions that should never have been, and bad pitches caused by allowing rugby to be played on the ground (an increasing problem, and one I’ll have to get used to in a year’s time when Cardiff City move into their new stadium). However, until somebody thinks of a fairer way of deciding it, the league system will do.

Adding an extra round of fixtures will completely destroy the league as a concept. Imagine if, at the end of the season, your team finished second in the league with only a point separating you from the winners, yet you firmly believe that the champions had a much easier ride in their overseas fixture than your team did.

I wouldn’t be at all surprised if court cases soon followed. The whole purpose of the league system would be lost. Make no mistake, such a proposal would be far more controversial than introducing the play-off system in both codes of rugby (I didn’t support that idea either).

Unless these two fundamental problems can be properly addressed, it’s time to kick this idea into touch once and for all.

Also on Soccermongery: Jonny's version of the same subject

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Fulham's Cottage industry no match for the Manchester United steam-roller

By JOE MORRIS.

Tommy Trinder, the late comedian and one-time Fulham chairman, must have called the club's fans some of the luckiest people in the world. By the end of their 4-0 drubbing at the hands of Manchester United most of us felt enormously privileged. United were through to an FA Cup semi-final against Everton and Fulham looked like lost tourists in the middle of Piccadilly Circus.

Undoubtedly Fulham remain one of the most endearing clubs in the Premier League, rather like one of those cute teddy bears in Hamley's shop window. Every so often they sit comfortably in the middle of the Premier League and then just topple over when nobody expects it.

Half way through this criminally one-sided FA Cup massacre, Fulham chairman Mohammad Al Fayed just slumped forward in his seat as if life had well and truly dealt him a poor hand. Perhaps he was more concerned about the profit margins at Harrods.

Al Fayed has had more than his fair share of heartache in recent years but it may not be very often that teams of Manchester United's stature come along and spoil his day.

Football, as we all know, is all about attitudes and platitudes, but when it comes to sheer class then United could probably give you chapter and verse. Once again United displayed all the game's most commendable values. There was, as ever, a marvellous sense of proportion and perspective about United's football that holds us totally mesmerised.

Wherever you looked, every red United shirt knew exactly where the other was. From the heart of their defence to the front line passes were zipped to feet with instinctive accuracy. Darren Fletcher. Michael Carrick and Patrice Evra moved around Craven Cottage like the bishops and knights on a chessboard. It was only when United scored an almost inevitable fourth goal that Fulham were in checkmate.

But it was the strength of Sir Alex Ferguson's new breed of ball players who caught the eye. Jonny Evans, Danny Welbeck and Richard Eckersley are the emerging kids who may turn into the next David Beckham, Nicky Butt and Paul Scholes. Maybe not overnight, but Old Trafford is priming itself for another invasion of the country's best young talent.

For Fulham this was the day when more pressing issues seemed to pre-occupy them. They lie in the calm waters of the Premier League but they may have to get their priorities right. There is an unnerving brittleness and vulnerability about the Cottagers that does leave you feeling queasy. Their football is correct and proper but manager Roy Hodgson may have to keep his players' heads above water.

We all know that Fulham were once regarded as one of football's playful circus acts who loved to fall over. During the 1950s their midfield maestro Johnny Haynes, almost single-handedly at times, kept Craven Cottage fans on their feet. Haynes was the chief architect and engineer of everything that Fulham turned their hand to. There was Tosh Chamberlain, Jimmy Hill and Bobby Robson, men of honour and honesty.

But Fulham are still prone to pratfalls and moments of extreme amateurism. You can almost see the incompetence when things go horribly wrong. After years in the old Second Division and Third you can almost see the cracks. Craven Cottage still has an old fashioned Victorian feel and the neatly black and white painted balcony at one end of the ground is a quaint throwback to another age.

Throughout this savage 4-0 mauling by United's roaring lions, the midfield graft and industry of Danny Murphy and Simon Davies did show some initiative for Fulham. But for all the hard running and red-blooded endeavour of Bobby Zamora and Andy Johnson, Fulham were rather like peasants at a country landowner's ball.

Manchester United are well and truly on course for a season of astonishing achievement. They will now look to an FA Cup semi-final against David Moyes' Everton confident in their own footballing knowledge.

Next for United are Jose Mourinho and Milan and the possibility of a clean sweep looks a splendid reality. Perhaps Tommy Trinder was right. We are indeed very lucky people!

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