And so, the finest Premiership season in at least nine years continues on its merry way, with all the leading superpowers doing their level-best to avoid racing into anything resembling a commanding position atop the table, while many of the so-called lesser lights continue to astound and astonish with the vibrancy, quality and adventure of their football.

There is a strong argument that last weekend, with 41 goals whizzing in over the course of ten top-flight matches, was the most enjoyable couple of days’ football in years. There was a wonderfully 1950s air to the scorelines, with every single one of the 20 clubs managing to find the net at some point, several inches of pure white snow carpeting many of the pitches, and Blackpool and Bolton meeting up in the top flight, just to add to the general ‘retro’ aura of the proceedings. Somewhere in the distance, you could see Sir Stanley Matthews smiling.
Arguably the best game of the lot – and there was stiff competition – was at White Hart Lane, with Harry Redknapp’s increasingly irresistible Spurs turning the tables on Roy Hodgson’s increasingly lamentable Liverpool, eventually sealing the deal in stoppage time with a quite wondrous strike from Aaron Lennon.
This Spurs team has flaws – they seem far too fond of conceding the first goal in any given game, and their defending is still well short of what it will need to be in order to finish top of the pile – but the pure confidence and attacking fluency in their ranks might well be enough to keep them in the hunt long after Christmas, especially if their rivals continue to fritter away points the way they’ve been doing recently. Can they pull off the unthinkable? I wouldn’t go so far as to say I expect it, but truth is, I can’t see any reason why not.
Liverpool were far from awful (though they have frequently been exactly that thus far this season), and while they would certainly have shuddered if you’d told them back in August that they’d muster no more than 19 points from their opening 15 games, the reality is that their position is not quite as hopeless as it should be, with the current top three not exactly firing on all cylinders, and even the leaders only 12 points out of reach. The title is almost certainly not on the cards this season, but those who have ruled them out of the top-four reckoning are surely jumping the gun.
Chelsea – as prophesied in these pages a few weeks ago when they looked like world-beaters – have suddenly been exposed as profoundly beatable, having already lost four games before the end of November, and completely shed their aura of invincibility. It doesn’t take any great detective skill to conclude that the utterly senseless firing of Ray Wilkins was by far the worst move they’ve made since, well, the utterly senseless firing of Jose Mourinho three years ago.
Their implosion since then has been startlingly swift and dramatic, Carlo Ancelotti’s halo has vanished entirely, and his muttered observation that he ‘would be the last to know’ whether his position as manager is under threat doesn’t suggest a very happy camp. Not for the first time, Roman Abramovich’s compulsive meddling appears to be working against his team.

Manchester United finally looked like champions-in-waiting in their blood-curdling 7-1 shellacking of Blackburn Rovers, but the resistance offered by their foes was so utterly feeble that it may be unwise to read too much into that particular performance. (In particular, Pascal Chimbonda’s tour de force of defensive incompetence beggared belief). While the Reds have returned to the top of the pile for now, an away record of one win from seven games (that is not a misprint) speaks for itself. If Dimitar Berbatov – easily the best striker in the League WHEN he plays the way he can – motivates himself to consistently turn in performances like the five-star five-goal show which put ragged Rovers to the sword, then the title will be returning to Old Trafford without any shadow of a doubt. But you wouldn’t be in the least bit surprised to see him retreat into his shell and spend the entire wintertime firing blanks. Do I see United winning the title? No.
The same goes for Arsenal, whose flimsiness is every bit as pronounced as it was five years ago. Contrary to popular misconception, the Gunners’ fallibility has absolutely nothing to do with their perceived over-elaboration on the ball: they score more than enough, and almost all trophy-winning teams in this day and age place great store by keeping possession and out-passing the opposition. Spain won the World Cup by doing so: predictable, for sure, but also virtually unstoppable. Arsenal are absolutely going about things the way they should in midfield and attack: the problem is at the other end, in particular when it comes to by far the most important position on the park, between the sticks.
Fabianski is perhaps a slight improvement on Almunia, but not by much, and their defending simply isn’t good enough to entertain realistic notions of winning the title. Their display in chucking away a 2-0 lead in the North London derby and ending up empty-handed was a textbook illustration of why this is the case. Even in their swashbuckling 4-2 win at Villa last weekend, the defence looked ropey every time the hosts ventured forward. Two late goals at the wrong end against Braga confirmed the impression. If they shell out on a top keeper and a top centre-half in January, you could maybe see them winning the title. But as things stand, I can see them missing out on the top four.
So, with impartiality firmly intact, Foul Play is going for Manchester City – with some reservations. Like everyone else, they have dropped more points than they should. Roberto Mancini has got probably the best defence in the Premiership – and, in Joe Hart, he most certainly has the best goalkeeper – but things are not flowing quite as smoothly as they should up front. Up until lately, I had been entirely in favour of Mancini’s stewardship, but there was a chilling moment a couple of weeks ago when, deadlocked at 0-0 in a home tie against Birmingham in the 82nd minute, he yanked off the only established striker on the pitch (Carlos Tevez) and replaced him with defensive holding midfielder Gareth Barry. There is a point at which caution crosses the line and becomes cowardice. And there was another setback on Saturday, when a stoppage-time equaliser from Matthew Etherington enabled Stoke to salvage a 1-1 draw and denied City a priceless away win.
Still, when the dust had settled, one could reasonably reflect that a draw at Stoke is not exactly a dreadful result, so savage and unyielding is the hosts’ aerial bombardment, allied to a fair amount of footballing skill (the Potters are currently eighth, and can realistically aspire to finishing even higher). City are five points off the top, which in a season like this is hardly insurmountable. Crucially, they also have a seriously huge wad of cash to splash in January and might just be one or two eye-popping signings away from embarking on a run which will carry them all the way to the summit. More adventure from Mancini would not go amiss, but the mini-crisis of approximately a month ago appears to have bottomed out, every single one of the title contenders is distinctly fallible, and I’ve been waiting since 1981 (this in itself may not turn out to be the deciding factor, but hopefully it won’t hurt either).
At the wrong end, I continue to stick with Fulham, West Brom and Wigan as my nominations for the chop, all three of whom are starting to show signs of struggling to stay the pace, notwithstanding West Brom’s vaguely fortunate 4-1 win at Everton. Of the teams currently in the firing line, Mick McCarthy’s Wolves have a visible unity and team spirit which might serve them very well over the months to come, while West Ham may be just a managerial change away from becoming a half-decent outfit (although I have come to be inexplicably fond of Avram Grant’s preposterously mournful countenance). Blackpool – currently level on points with the other ‘pool – will be fine, and the delightful Ian Holloway will continue to be the most enjoyably eccentric manager in the known footballing universe.
This is already a vintage season, and the only sensible reaction is to enjoy it to the absolute max. I hope you all have a fantastic Christmas, manage to watch as much football as humanly possible, eat like pigs, drink like sailors and fornicate like wild animals – and I shall see you all in the New Year. Have a great one.