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Last weekend in the Slovakian city of Trnava, the ‘all new’ English team under Big Sam Allardyce had to vamia the ten man Slovaks like a Tom Mboya street mob on a smartphone pickpocket – to steal a 95th minute goal from Melania Trump’s relas for victory.
That is not even a last minute, dying minute, or even ‘Fergie’ squeaky-bum-time goal. That is a goal after the minutes have been buried, exhumed, and then their blood, semen and hair collected and put in a clear plastic bag and taken for DNA testing to be checked for a suspicious death!
England captain Wayne Rooney did not impress as an attacking midfielder in that game, but neither did fellow English attacking midfielder Raheem Sterling.
Let us now project from the rectum of Eastern Europe and return to England, the heart of the EPL. Come tomorrow, 2.30pm local time, I doubt Rooney will impress either as Man U captain in the much-anticipated derby against Manchester City.
But Wayne and Sterling will not be the men everyone will be looking at in the game. It will be the men on the side of the pitch – Jose Mourinho (Man United) and Josep Guardiola (Man City).
Their relationship has a unique and checkered history. Once-upon-a-time in Barcelona, Jose was tipped to succeed a chap called Frank Rijkaard as coach, with one Pep Guardiola as his assistant. But the legendary Barca coach Johan Cruyff , who passed away six months ago, screwed it all up for Jose.
Guardiola was preferred as Barcelona coach, Mourinho joined Inter Milan and then Real Madrid, and the rest is a bitter rivalry. Then there is the big Swede Zlatan Ibrahimovich, who loathes Pep with passion.
The minute Guardiola became Barca coach in 2009, Messi became that teacher’s pet with a whisper campaign against playing with Zlatan – and soon the Swede was shipped off on loan to Milan; and met Mourinho. A little man and a big man, both with giant egos! But, incredibly, they hit it off tremendously.
The Manchester Derby, always a fiery affair, is set to be what we can call ‘The Game of Grudges.’ General Pep will have prepped his City Boys for the away battle at Old Trafford, but without ‘KumAguero’, who is suspended for violence, I see a vengeful Zlatan Ibrahimovic – a real ninja – scoring one in the exhumation seconds. And Mourinho going wild with the taste of sweet vengeance.
Meanwhile, our ‘mboyz’ Harambee Stars went away to play the mighty Zambian team and 2012 Afcon champions, the Chipolopolo.
Let me just say the truth. I thought Stars would be raruliwad ‘roar raru’ the way Zuckerberg raruad that o’samaki at Mama Dennis Oliech’s the other day, leaving only a dorsal skeleton. But the boys hepad with a goal and a point.
Chipolopolo must have felt like that chap who has chipo’d a fly chick from the club and taken her home. Only to go to the bathroom to shower and then come out into the bedroom – and find the ‘chipo’ has skived into the night; complete with that three thao that was left in your wallet.
