So, what does Foul Play make of the early skirmishes in the battle for Premier League supremacy? At the time of writing, Man United and Chelsea are a few hours away from getting down to business in a mouth-watering Clash of the Titans which will leave the victors in pole position (assuming there is a victor, which I suspect there might not be). Manchester City, cursed with the crippling burden of being backed by Foul Play the night before The Big Kick-Off, have already ceded early ground in the course of a chaotic 3-2 loss to mighty Cardiff, which has brought a swift and shuddering end to Manuel Pellegrini’s honeymoon, led to much finger-pointing in the general direction of the once-bulletproof Joe Hart, and invited fans to pine for the safety first security of the Mancini era, where any problems City had, tended to be at the other end of the park.
Disturbing as the defeat was, nobody should panic at this stage. For a start, the hosts were outstanding, and look more than capable of surviving their debut season in the top flight. Vincent Kompany was sorely missed and Javi Garcia looks hopelessly ill-equipped as a stand-in centre-half, but there is no longer any problem at Eastlands which can’t (in theory) be solved by splashing huge amounts of cash. Nonetheless, Pellegrini misjudged the mood badly with his bewildering post-match observation that, “There was no problem in central defence.” Fraizer Campbell could quite easily have scored five times, and as admirable as Cardiff’s display was, this was a masterclass in bad defending which will have had Europe’s elite clubs rubbing their hands in glee. There was also considerable cause for concern in the manager’s declaration that, “When we scored the first goal I thought it could be easy for us.” This is exactly the sort of attitude that opponents can sniff at a thousand paces, and with the probable exception of Crystal Palace, the Premier League is packed with teams capable of punishing anyone when the mood takes them. It is, of course, very early days, but Pellegrini won’t survive too many displays like this.
On the other side of town, I suspect the doom and gloom surrounding David Moyes’ ascension to the Old Trafford dugout is deeply misguided. United’s opening-day 4-1 stroll at Swansea showcased ruthless finishing from a striker in the form of his life (van Persie) and I can’t for the life of me figure out why Moyes has been dismissed in many quarters as underqualified for the job. He has spent a decade in the division, repeatedly punching above Everton’s relative weight to the tune of at least 10 extra points a season. He has a forensic eye for detail, keeps an extensive transfer-target database which includes definitive verdicts on everyone who is anyone in world football,inherits a club in rude health on and off the park (a relatively pedestrian midfield aside), will have no great financial constraints to deal with, and generally seems to be the closest thing to Fergie that was out there among the available candidates. Conventional wisdom has it that Fergie is irreplaceable, but I’m sure they said much the same about Bill Shankly before Bob Paisley took over and elevated the ‘Pool to a whole other level.
As for The Special One, it’s good to have him back. Jose’s post-match interviews and press conferences have been comic gold, as ever. In fact, Mourinho is so endlessly entertaining off the pitch that you tend to forget how bloody dull his teams can be. The final hour of Chelsea’s opening-day battle with Hull was a bore of monumental proportions, the Blues having established an early 2-0 lead which theyseemed perfectly content to sit on for the rest of the match. Jose’s magic formula — certainly at Porto, Chelsea and Inter — has always been essentially ‘take an early lead and shut up shop’ and while it’s usually worked for him, it doesn’t make for riveting viewing. The hope this time round is that, having inherited a mouth-watering midfield armed with creative talents of the calibre of Oscar, Eden Hazard and Juan Mata, he does the decent thing and gives them a licence to thrill. Indeed, it would be obscene not to.
The quote of the week came from fiery Roman fascista Paolo di Canio, whom one suspects may go on to win said award on a weekly basis. Impressed with the contribution of his 5-foot-4 new recruit Giaccherini, who took just three minutes to open his scoring account, Paolo observed: “It just goes to show that football is strange as even a midget can score because he is intelligent. He is always walking around with a book, and that shows his intelligence.” Indeed. Midget savants notwithstanding, Foul Play can see trouble ahead for Sunderland, much of it directly traceable to the presence of Paolo in the hot seat. He has banned tomato ketchup and ice in players’ fizzy drinks: it proves that he cares, but does little to dispel impressions of the man as a raving maniac. Fulham, who rode their luck hideously en route to a 1-0 win on Paolo’s patch, seem tactically the least well-drilled side in the top flight, and will be knee-deep in the smelly stuff if anything happens to Dimitar Berbatov.
That said, my trio to go down at this point would be Palace, Stoke and West Brom. The Eagles excelled themselves in getting promoted in the first place, but unlike Cardiff and Hull, look miles too lightweight for this level, with the loss of Wilfred Zaha inestimably damaging. Manager Ian Holloway, though not everyone’s cup of tea, is a likeable sort, whose bucolic West Country burr will always be music to Foul Play’s ears. He is, however, my early tip to win the Sack Race: it has been proven in recent years that the worst thing a manager can do is win promotion. Last year’s heroics won’t stop Palace pushing the panic button if their points tally after nine or ten games gives cause for alarm, which I suspect it will.
Stoke, for their part, may offer illustrative proof of the sheer stupidity of ditching a manager who has delivered success in favour of one who has been a serial failure elsewhere. Sure, the Potters’ no-frills approach under Tony Pulis rendered them almost unwatchable at times, but they were truly formidable in defence, were an almighty pain in the rear for opponents (at least on home turf) and could almost be relied upon to survive in any given season, no mean feat for a club whose natural station in life is probably a division lower. In Mark Hughes, they would appear to have found the perfect man to take them there. West Brom have also been over-achieving considerably for the last few years, establishing themselves as a mid-table fixture. There are solid grounds for suspecting that they’re primed for a fall: Lukaku, by far their brightest light last year, has moved on to bigger things, Nicolas Anelka would appear to have retired after one week of the season, the squad looks alarmingly short of firepower, and Scott Sinclair is unlikely to provide a magic cure. Still, we have months and months of football to get stuck into before all becomes apparent. Here goes...