Bleacher Report - Articles by Tim Killeen

Away Days Key to Stoke City's Survival

Tim Killeen — Sun, 08 Mar 2009 09:29:34 -0400

For Stoke City supporters, this season has been an extraordinary journey.

Stoke have come along way since that reality biting opener at Bolton and the harsh lessons dished out during two away trips to Manchester and another in Blackburn.

When the fixture list came out last June many scoffed at Stoke City’s chances of Premier League survival, and bookies, rather presumptuously, even started paying out on our relegation.

But we’ll hear more about that later.

It has been a recurring theme for Stoke fans this season to endure tiresome and inevitable turnarounds in opinion. Win a few games, and of course we’ll beat the drop, lose a few, and we’re certainties to go down.

For the moment, at least, an invigorating away performance at Villa (taking four points from them this season) and Wednesday’s convincing revenge job on Bolton, hints massively that the trends are beginning to turn in Stoke’s favour, and I am quietly confident we’ll avoid relegation.

Stoke never came into the PL content with making up the numbers yet presumptions that they would may be the very reason why Stoke will survive.

In fact, such ignorance has not just provided Tony Pulis and his players with enough ammunition to wage a small war of attrition, it seems to have kick-started a mutiny similar to one staged by a young Kevin Keegan when told he was too small to deliver newspapers.

Key to Stoke’s survival

New Signings

Stoke are a team with an ever growing confidence. Pulis has again bought well in the transfer window and new signing’s Matty Etherington, and in particular James Beattie, have breathed fresh impetus into the side; both endearing themselves instantly to the Stoke City faithful.

Glenn Whelan and Liam Lawrence

Whelan’s metamorphous from a peripheral water carrier into a PL attacking midfielder of some distinction is an excellent boost to Stoke’s survival chances.

Couple this with the return of last year’s hero Liam Lawrence, and Stoke look capable of providing Beattie with yet more opportunities to further endorse his rising cult status. The emergence of both Irishmen couldn’t have come at a better time for the club.

The Manager

As players like Whelan continue to adapt, so too does the manager. In spite of criticism, Pulis has diligently gone about his business. And he isn’t scared to make changes.

At Villa Park, when attempts to nullify their wingers proved more futile than pouring green custard over Lord Mandelson (for those of you up on UK news), to Pulis’ credit, he had the sagacity to change things. Whelan and Fuller came on and deservedly rescued a point for the visitors.

Key Fixtures

Whilst agreeing with most commentators who suggest that it will be Stoke’s home form that will keep them in this division, I feel it will be our remaining away fixtures that will prove most significant.

Home games against our fellow strugglers I am confident we can win. It will be results in these three key away games, however, which I feel will ultimately grant us safety: WBA (a); Fulham (a); Hull City (a). 5-7 points will do nicely.

Who’ll Go Down?

Unless WBA dramatically turn things around, which I doubt, they are near enough down. That’s not to say they won’t have a huge part to play in who joins them.

After studiously scrutinizing the remaining fixtures, I will shock a few and speculate that Hull City will also be making a swift return to the Championship, and any one from Portsmouth, Newcastle and Middlesbrough could follow.

Before the season began, long before a ball was kicked back in anger, I happened to be in London, or to be more precise, in the home of an Arsenal season ticket holder.

The conversation we shared I recall vividly.

Commending me on what he described as Stoke’s shock promotion, he patronised me further—in a way only fans of a ‘Bigger Club’ could—by suggesting Stoke should savour the experience of top-flight football, as it likely to be short lived.

My concerns that Stoke’s survival conundrum might include a nervy visit to Arsenal in desperate need of a result, he reassured me were wildly ambitious, implying Stoke would already be down.

What a difference a season can make.

I am starting to believe that Stoke will be safe by the end of our penultimate game, at home to Wigan, and the only significance riding on our final day trip to the Emirates will be whether or not Arsenal will be able to dislodge Villa to secure Champions League football.

Join me again for what (Phil Brown) promises will be a ‘squeaky-bum’ finale. It will surely go down as one of the tightest relegation battles in history. I am just thankful Stoke City are a part of it.

This Article also features on The English Football Post

Ten Things Missing from English Football

Tim Killeen — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 10:13:25 -0500

Last Friday marked 10 years exactly when an English Premier League club (Aston Villa v. Coventry 27/02/99) last fielded an all-English first eleven.

Now, I am not suggesting for one second that foreign coaches and players have damaged the English game, as indubitably they have broadened horizons and invariably improved its standards.

However, there have been some important elements that have been lost in recent years, and this has coincided with the rise of a league that was once unmistakably British.

Superior goal tallies in other leagues (like La Liga) tell their own story, but I am beginning to come around to the notion that Bill Shankly has a lot to answer for.

Okay, the EPL is widely perceived to be the best in world football, and I don’t dispute this, nevertheless, I am beginning to suspect this is largely an a priori assumption that is based purely on pound signs.

This has certainly contributed greatly to the demise of other prestigious leagues, which many feel, unlike the Premier League, have still managed to retain a sense of nationality and authentic beauty.

As strategies and physical attributes continue to have a strangle hold in England, and the Arsenals and WBAs relentlessly struggle; does our game now resemble something more similar to rugby?

And does adopting a win-at-all-costs mentality, threaten to undermine, and more worryingly, dismantle what made this league great to begin with?

As a result of my new found pessimism, I have compiled a list of all the things that seem to have disappeared from the English game. Iconic things, that not so long ago, set us apart. Things which made us proud and endeared many of us to the great game in the first place. Things I dearly miss.

Here goes…

10 – Cup Final Magic

Yes, I realize I am probably a bit late with this maxim, as the magic of the cup fizzled out seemingly not long after the disappearance of wooden rattles and the Wembley white horseman.

However, Man United’s 0-0 draw and subsequent shoot-out victory on Sunday made me pine for some Cup Final Magic akin to that created by Ricky Villa, Sir Stan, and Charlie George.

I am scratching my head and wondering what has happened to all the heroes?

9 – Professional Fouls

Granted, this sort of thing happens a lot more on the continent and has been successfully eradicated from our game, so understandably, my inclusion may bemuse a few of you and be somewhat controversial.

It is the "controversial" element, however, that I solemnly long for.

Before we know it, Fifa will suggest something preposterous like installing cameras to clear up tight offside decisions, or sillier still, to see whether or not the ball crossed the goal line!

Like the aforementioned, the professional foul evoked endless debating after the game; creating ambivalent pub banter long into the night, about how the last defender took down a far quicker player bearing down on him and the goal, only to be given a caution.

Its mysterious nature captured the imaginations of both parents and children alike, and it is this unifying bond that justifies its inclusion.

8 – Bicycle Kicks

Apart from an occasional Peter Crouch Spider-Leg-Catherine-Wheel-Thingy, modern players rarely treat us to the spectacular.

I wonder whom children are now emulating in the playground? And who are their mothers blaming for their cuts and bruises, which Mark Hughes, Hugo Sanchez, and Trevor Sinclair once rightfully took the rap for?

When Robbie Keane’s failed attempt at the spectacular against PSV became the final nail in his Liverpool coffin, it confirmed what many already suspected about the priorities of the modern game.

I personally would’ve liked to have seen Keane catch the ball on his knee, flick it up behind him, and over-head bicycle kick it towards goal; even if it rebounded off the crossbar, hit the keeper on the back of his head, and went out for a corner.

7 - Tracksuit Managers

They say manufacturing, banking, and construction have been hit worst by the current job crisis. But long before those in hard hats took their place in the dole queue, Tracksuit Managers: deemed surplus to requirements, were swapping their overalls for shirts and tie combos and being forced to retrain.

Dalglish, Souness, Trevor Francis, Peter Reid, and "Wee Gordie" all looked the part back in the day, unzipping their tracksuits and bringing on "Themselves" to save the game for "Their" team.

Not many of them did though (e.g. Gullet, Hoddle, and "Butch" Wilkins), so I suppose that’s the reason they are no longer around.

6 – Goal Hangers (or Goal Scorers)

Ronaldo might’ve bagged a bucket full of goals last season and Torres certainly has an aura of a "Goalscorer" about him, but neither, are anywhere near, in the mould of the goal scoring lynchpins from yesteryear.

Greaves, Lineker, Cottee, Kerry Dixon, and the "ne plus ultra" (fastest man over two yards in the penalty box) that was Mick Quinn; were a different breed from those of today.

These men came alive only when the ball was in the opposition’s penalty box, slid in where others dared not, trickling the ball past despairing goalkeepers, and habitually stealing the glory.

Eduardo (Arsenal) certainly has the potential to become a goal-scoring machine similar to those old maestros just mentioned and has a look and swagger reminiscent of a Romario.

I am sure 30-goals-a-season from one player would prove invaluable for any team in top flight, and teams could do a lot worse than allowing room for what is now a rarity; even if he does spend the rest of the game fixing his hair and eyeing up your missus in the VIP enclosure.

5 – Eccentric Goalkeepers

In my unapologetic nostalgic spectacles, the goalkeepers of the past were men of immense character and personality. They embroiled themselves in countless stand-offs with opposing strikers, overcoming huge odds stacked against them, to claw out otherwise certain goals from the jaws of defeat.

No gloves of a cat-like Banksy, the giant hands of the gentleman Jennings, reflexes of what appeared a slovenly and listless Neville Southall, and of course the wobbly-leg routine of the clown-like, but ultimately brilliant, Bruce Grobbelaar. All are sadly missed in today’s climate.

I even long for the imposing presence of Peter Schmeichel: he who frightened the life not only out of opposing strikers, but his own defenders too.

And whom do we have in their place? The enigmatic jibs of Brad Jones, Chris Kirkland, and the record breaking Edwin van der Sar. I’m literally teeming with excitement.

4 – Hell Raisers

It is possible I have an unhealthy obsession with maverick British footballers of the '50s, '60s, and '70s. Not solely because of the antics they got up to on the field, but also because of their wild lifestyles off it.

Jimmy Greaves’ alcohol consumption is well documented (believed to be up to 20 pints and a bottle of vodka a day at one stage) and even Greavsie will be the first to admit this wasn’t something to brag about. It beggars belief, however, to think how players back then got away with it, and somehow managed to hold it together enough to play football in front of thousands of unsuspecting spectators.

For many like myself, it only seems to add to the intrigue and curiosity. (For all of you with a similar obsession to mine: Greavsie’s autobiography is a beast of the biography world; old "Saint & Greavsie" DVDs are a joy to behold; and by all accounts his live talk show is an unforgettable evening).

Of course, kung-fu Cantona entertained us all for a while, causing just as much, if not more, controversy, than any other player before or since. His influence and impact is undoubtedly missed and is found wanting from today’s game.

More Hell Raisers are needed, surely?

3 – Dribblers

When I say dribblers, I mean those sinuous barracuda types that slalom their way through opponents to score mesmerizing goals, not Nani and Christiano Ronaldo who perform stepovers that the opposition can spot during their pre-match meal.

Giggs has offered some much welcome respite over the years, but when you think back to Barnes, Beardsley, and Waddle, watch footage of Sir Stan, Peter Osgood, and Alan Hudson, it pales into significance.

As a result, it is hard not to regret growing up in a different era, instead of constantly having to dust off the old Betamax recorder that is still up in the loft.

Watching Barcelona equipped with Messi et al, certainly doesn’t help matters.

2 – Sweepers

Sweepers were once the caretakers of the beautiful game; mopping up and brushing off, seeing to dangerous attacks before teammates had even realized who they were marking, and initiating fresh counter-assaults all of their own. I am talking about The Beckenbauers, The Barasis, Koeman and Sammer, and once upon a time, our very own Bobby Moore.

I have great respect for Abdoulaye D. Faye (Stoke City) and what he does, and certainly wouldn’t like to meet him down a dark alley. Nevertheless, it is safe to say, he hardly captures the ethos of the beautiful game.

I think sweepers invariably make the game more refined and interesting, and I plead with managers to bring them back; to start to employ such systems that will accommodate them and see the revival of the majestic and magnificent: Sweeper.

1 – Genuine Characters

I’ve already mentioned many of the game’s iconic characters, who encapsulate the drama and the theater which gives the game such wide appeal.

But I feel we even lack those that larked around (Gazza), showed raw emotion (Gazza), engaged in banter with the crowd (Gazza); those it meant so much to they even shed a tear (Gazza). Remember This?

I want to see more Managers (like Brian Clough or Mourinho) and Players (Gazza?) who thrive on giving entertainment, revel in the spotlight, and above all, give us the fans, our money’s worth.

And before anyone gets the wrong idea, I am in no way insinuating another Dean Windass comeback.

Thanks for listening; and if you echo my pessimism, why not suggest a few things you miss or feel is lacking from the modern English game?

This Article also features on The English Football Post

External Pressures Loom as Liverpool Concede the Title

Tim Killeen — Sun, 22 Feb 2009 11:31:06 -0500

It’s round about now when many of us are feeling deflated.

I recall something I read over the festive period by the Tory Politician Anne Widdecombe who expressed her concern at the counter-productive nature of making over-ambitious resolutions on Jan. 1.

Her pearls of wisdom may resonate with some more than others as the stodgy food and bad habits slowly creep back in.

Edging past my evening quota of black stuff at the turn of the year, I too stand culpable of making bold proclamations, and upon reflection concede, setting an objective of completing my first novel in 2009 may have been a tad premature.

Widdecombe’s antidote was to write 12 resolutions on scraps of paper: Six easily achievable (like reading more in the evening) and six less doable (like contacting and arranging to meet up with a friend you’ve not seen in five years or more).

At the beginning of each month she would pick one at random from a hat and vow to make a diligent and importunate effort to achieve this task.

The demanding world of football wouldn’t go far wrong if it adopted a similar approach.

A club that knows all about mammoth expectations is Liverpool, with many portioning blame on the club’s illustrious history. Post-eighties players and managers alike have subsequently carried this self-defeating burden.

We only have to look at McManaman, Smicer, Kewell and Robbie Keane, who tried and failed to fill the No. 7 shirt once famed by Keegan, Dalglish and Beardsley, to see how such pressures can affect even the brightest of prospects.

It is revealing to see Edwin van der Sar breaking records up the East Lancs. Rd. where a long line of successors to a certain ‘Great Dane’ had previously been stripped of their confidence and unsympathetically slipped out the back door, visibly shaken.

Some of these ‘United failures’ have managed to rebuild their careers under less glaring lights of so-called smaller clubs, most notably Tim Howard at Everton.

Great players, you might argue, can handle things much better and block out all external pressures, listening only to their inner-voice and strong sense of destiny.

Players or managers cannot control what has happened in the past only what happens in the future and it is unfair and unrealistic to judge and compare them by what has come before. Sometimes more patience is needed

Football, nonetheless, deals in fine margins. Just ask Tony Adams.

If Portsmouth had not conceded some late sloppy goals in games they deserved to win, he would surely still be in a job. That’s not to say I think Tony Adams is a good manager, far from it.

I personally feel that despite being a leader of men when he took to the pitch, he is better suited to a No. 2 coaching role.

Expecting a man of his little experience (and less resources) to match what Harry ‘Houdini’ had already achieved was like pressing the ejector seat on an experienced pilot when the plane was experiencing problems, expecting the co-pilot to land the jet in the Hudson River.

There is a case Adams should’ve stayed at Portsmouth until they found a suitable replacement for Redknapp. Someone of similar experience, who Adams could still work under and continue his apprenticeship at the club.

You can sympathize with Chairmen when you see the likes of Guardiola sharpening his matador pearly whites at Barcelona.

But, despite him proving more popular than Rijkaard on account of the progressive, and at times, breathtaking football his side are currently producing, how difficult can it be to tame such precocious talents as Messi, Alves, Bojan, Yaya Toure and Busquets?

Especially when you consider he has experienced wizards like Henry, Xavi, Iniesta and Eto’o to call upon if he ever needed advice (if you’ve not watched Barca this season, it is a must for any sports fan).

Nevertheless, the astute Guardiola is that rare breed of intelligence that allows great players freedom to act on their own impulse and intuition. They represent what Chelsea tried to achieve in the early seventies and came short.

The fact that Guardiola is achieving a brand of football not overly reliant on rigid tactics and also being successful is a magnificent feat, and for this he deserves lauding.

Not all managers, however, have it quite so easy.

Nobody enjoys seeing managers under pressure, throwing on substitutes in the last 10 minutes of a match like a gambler desperately pulling coins from a pocket that is full of holes.

And though a new manager with the Midas touch can often galvanise a team in trouble, after the initial lift there is usually a trough, we have to remind ourselves what happened to Midas in the end (that’s in no way a warning to Spurs fans by the way)?

For clubs in free fall, sacking your manager is rarely the quick fix owners are looking for and can often have disastrous consequences. So too can harbouring unrealistic expectations.

Leeds don’t need mentioning again, but if we cast our minds back to Charlton, now a club languishing perilously at the foot of the Championship, the dangers and repercussions of attempting to build instant success from foundations that are far from stable, blow gales of caution.

Charlton no longer deemed Premier League survival as good enough, despite them being a club of the PL under classes. When you see where they are now this was ambition bordering lunacy.

It is worth considering the faith that has been bestowed to David Moyes and the recent success He and the club are enjoying. The board and supporters, even at times when it was a real fight to keep the club in the division, have stuck behind their manager and this is justifiably paying dividends.

In a previous article, I compared watching my team Stoke City this season to being invited around to Nigella Lawson’s house just to wash the dishes, whilst herself and her cronies enjoy fine exotic foods.

Since my sudden change of heart, if this is dish-washing, it’s like getting paid £100 an hour. And I’ve never been so happy just to clean pots!

If you’re a Liverpool fan, and you’re thinking Rafa has thrown away your best chance of a league title in 20 years, a man always good for the optimistic statistic is the irrepressible Paul Tomkins. He recently suggested that no team has ever won the Premier League without finishing second the season before.

After witnessing United—inspired by the evergreen Paul Scholes—put on an exhibition against Fulham, it is hard to see anything better than second place for Liverpool this season, even if they do beat City today (which I am not confident they will do).

But in light of Tomkin’s information, this has to be seen as definite progress for a club used to finishing behind United, Chelsea and Arsenal in recent years.

Even if my team Stoke suffer relegation, which of course I don't want to see happen, we have made similar progress and I am confident of a swift return. It is still a far cry from the Johnstone's Paint Trophy and you cannot beat the excitement and experience of a relegation fight or a push for promotion.

For these reasons, I will not be too disappointed if we do go down.

You see I am starting to realise that we all have to lower our sights a little as a sort of insurance for our personal happiness. Things need to step by step, and if we want to succeed, it has to be more gradual.

I am probably not going to write my novel in 2009, nor will I run that marathon, yet for the moment I’m thoroughly content with keeping modestly fit and attending my creative writing evening class. The rest, as they say, is in the post.

Nevertheless, given Liverpool’s stuttering form, I think it is realistic to beseech that Barcelona win the Champions League, as after enjoying their free-flowing uninhibited approach to the game this season, and the message it duly inspires, they surely deserve it.

Thank You Roy Keane...

Tim Killeen — Sat, 14 Feb 2009 11:51:00 -0500

These are intriguing times in football. In recent years we have seen a dramatic shift in the way football clubs are being run with the Premier League attracting the world’s top foreign coaches. There are even two Italians at the helm of Ireland (which is less shocking than Big Jack’s appointment actually), and England.

Mr. Walter Winterbottom must be gyrating in his grave.

There has also been Roy Keane’s abrupt end at Sunderland, who incidentally, are still embroiled in one of the most exciting relegation battles in PL history.

But for me, the most invigorating and most bizarre story in football at present is the rise of my beloved Stoke City who, after years of degradation, find themselves rubbing shoulders with English football’s elite once again.

And heck, they might even survive in this division.

When I moved to Ireland, I assumed I had relinquished any hope of watching my local team Stoke City on a regular basis. Gloomily I accepted I’d condemned myself to a life of listening to Stoke City on the radio via the internet.

Occasionally I might be lucky enough to watch the mighty Potters (in a third round FA Cup game versus Bolton or someone) from the back room of a deserted Irish pub, as I listlessly attempted to explain to a polite-but-obviously-uninterested fella, where exactly Stoke-on-Trent is (It's closer to Manchester than Birmingham), who indeed comes from there (the Captain of the Titanic actually), and how important the Potteries (supplying the world with vintage china and earthenware) used to be (Pre-Thatcher).

And this of course, would be on condition no Rugby or Gaelic matches—with any whiff of significance—were not on another channel, or in deed SUNDERLAND were not on Setanta.

It seemed I had incarcerated myself to a life of torment.

That was until Stoke made a shock but triumphant return to the Promised Land and prior to Keane’s demise up the raod at Sunderland.

Now I, along with my fellow long-suffering Stokies, are proudly watching our team each week on television (if we can't get to the match like myself), and our ardour seems to be emanating across the globe. It all seems so surreal.

And would you believe, since Keane’s resignation, the throngs of Irish Sunderland supporters are thinning out in Irish public houses faster than Roy Keane had poor old Niall Quinn reaching for the company chequebook. Fickle I know.

You see, Stoke are fastly becoming everyone’s favourite underdog and judging by the sheer noise level of our support this season, I am ecstatic to see Potter’s fires have been well and truly re-ignited.

Stoke for me are the new Sunderland FC, minus the Irish bandwagon that I hope will soon follow: those which mysteriously came out of the woodwork when Keane joined Sunderland, swearing blind they had followed the Black Cats since the days of Gabbiadini (classy goalscorer from '80s and early '90s) and the legend that was John Byrne (not so great goal-getter with 22 Caps for The Irish Republic).

With a few decent Irish acquisitions of our own and our new underdog mantle in full swing, I am confident it won’t be long before Stoke City catch on over here (Ireland) and potentially even more places across the world. Because this team has heart, a spirit reminiscent of Joe Kinnear's cult heroes of not so long ago: "The Crazy Gang." And if we do survive, we've got every chance of becoming as popular.

Stoke do not just adopt a similar style of football as Sunderland did a few seasons ago; possessing their never-say-die spirit, or simply share workmanlike qualities akin to the Wear-siders; Stoke embody a unity which Roy Keane has instilled at Sunderland, one which ultimately has won both teams promotion to the PL and will serve them 'great guns' in any relegation dogfight.

The correlation between these two forgotten northern cities doesn’t stop there, and the similarities between the two clubs, dare I say it, are there in red and white (sorry I couldn’t resist!).

Not only are these two once heavily industrial cities (now a vanished landscape) of similar size and stature, but the working-class inhabitants are of corresponding nature also. And despite Sunderland being far more successful in the first half of last century, many parallels can be made in both club’s illustrious histories.

Stoke City are the second oldest football club in the world, and inaugural members of the football league. But in that first season, unable to compete with likes of Preston, Burnley, and Blackburn, Stoke finished bottom of the table and were controversially voted out of the top division.

Their replacement (yes you guessed it) were Sunderland AFC and to add insult to injury, Sunderland—the first club outside the midland/northwest region of England to compete in the football league—played in the same red and white stripes famed by the Potters.

Some hundred years later and Stoke City were relegated from the top division in 1984/5 with a record lowest points tally. Some 20 years later, and who else but Sunderland were relegated with fewer.

And finally, if it wasn’t enough that the old Roker Park looked suspiciously identical to Stoke’s famous Victoria Ground, the Black Cat's new stadium is a carbon copy of the Britannia.

It is no great surprise then that ‘The Mackems’ were starting to get right up my nostrils.

This season has seen a massive shift in company policy at Stoke City; whom hitherto, had always been a selling club. Not only have transfer records being unceremoniously smashed; investing in players who undoubtedly possess the quality to keep us in this division, but the club, to its credit, has managed to keep hold of its most talented ones for once.

Even if Stoke City do go down, this is an intrepid step in the right direction for a club used to letting go players with even an iota of potential (Garth Crooks, Paul Bracewell, Adrian "Inchy" Heath, Peter Beagrie, Steve Bould, Lee Dixon, Mark Stein, and Mike Sheron to name just a few).

At a club, where over the years, the fans had lost all confidence in the board (and at times the feeling has been mutual) the Whelan, Ab. Faye, Etherington and James Beattie signings, arguably players of PL quality, at discount prices, have been massive coups for Stoke City and it sends out a message of promise to the club’s loyal supporters. The manager and his admirable Chairman Mr Coates have to be commended.

If we do get relegated, the increasingly difficult task of returning would be made immeasurably easier if the services of such astute acquisitions as those mentioned were retained.

The signings of two other Irish midfielders, furthermore, whom Keane atypically decided to let go at the start of his managerial reign up at Sunderland, have been huge factors in Stoke’s remarkable rise to prominence.

Stokies, like myself, are eternally grateful to Keane for gifting us with these two Anglo-Irish gemstones. I personally would like to say thank you to Mr Keane.

Lawrence (£500,000 scoring 13 goals last season) and Delap (free and Stoke’s most consistent performer) have been our two outstanding players in recent times and a clear indication of Tone’s (as he’s affectionately known on the Potteries) shrewdness in the transfer market. The manager deserves all the kudos that is inevitably thrown his way.

Although Keane did spend a hell of a lot of cash in his time at Sunderland (no wonder himself and Quinny didn’t get along!), he has left the club in good shape, and I am sure they’ll stay in this division for many years to come. His irrepressible presence, however, will be sorely missed both at Sunderland and in football on the whole.

Nevertheless, wouldn’t it be ironic if the two Irishmen, whom Keane cast aside, and another in Glenn Whelan, that Keane surprisingly missed out on, were the reasons behind Stoke City’s survival in the Premier League?

And wouldn’t it just be poetic justice if it were Sunderland who were relegated this time around? This is in no way partaking in the revelry of schadenfreude, more like retribution, albeit taking 128 years for it to come to fruition.

Keane, more than anybody, knows that success is borne from adversity, and it’s for these reasons, together with how much it means to the people of the Potteries, that I am so desperate for Stoke City to stay in top fight football.

And if my dreams are realized, we remain in the Premier League for at least one more season, and we also sign a few more Irish players; I wonder if, whilst watching my beloved Stoke City live on television in an Irish alehouse, I’ll be sitting alone. Or will I be joined by a bunch of brogues, all shouting for the mighty Potters?

It is a beautiful notion…

This Article also features on The English Football Post

Stoke City Tactics Vindicated In Light of Ireland's Exploits at Italia 90

Tim Killeen — Fri, 13 Feb 2009 19:12:23 -0500

Part of the reason for the ugliness of adults, in a child’s eyes, is that the child is usually looking upwards, and few faces are at their best when seen from below.

- George Orwell, ‘Such, Such were the joys’

On a wet and windy evening, two old adversaries went at each other, tooth and nail, in the romantic backdrop of Cagliari.

Packie Bonner (whom I met recently) punts the ball down field with familiar gusto, his arms flailing involuntarily as he goes to ground: a ritual resembling something halfway between a swallow dive and a convulsion.

A slightly perturbed Bobby Robson looks on disdainfully from his dugout, rooted to his seat. Big Jack looms increasingly obstreperous on the touchline, sensing a comeback.

The ball: aimed towards the human tower that is Tony Cascarino, and not for the first time, is met by Butcher, but it drops to Sheedy, who never really gets hold of it and it runs on to second half substitute McMahon.

Macca CAN’T control as Sheedy seizes on his hesitance and fires an unstoppable trademark left foot shot past an aging Peter Shilton.

Jack’s intuition was right, Bobby’s hunch fully warranted. The Irish were back in it, and everyone, including my father, went wild.

Look at the Irish. They sing and none of them know the words. Jack sings, and all he knows is "Blaydon Races" and "Cushy Butterfield". But look at the pride they have in those green shirts.

-Lawrie McMenemy

It was blatantly obvious how much it meant to everyone connected with the Irish national team, and against England it showed. Both England and Ireland would go on to taste unprecedented success during Italia 90: the Irish reaching the quarters (their best ever performance in a World Cup), England coming within a whisker of the final.

It was deemed the most negative, cynical tournaments of them all (due to its lowest ever goal tally and most games decided on the unjustly penalty shoot-out); yet, both nations captured the hearts and imaginations of millions across the globe. The joy and happiness which emanated from their performances and merits was immeasurable, the exploits of both teams in Italy, who at the time were highly criticized in the press, will never be forgotten.

In light of recent events at Stoke City, and antipathy they’ve been faced with, I took a retrospective glance at football, to gain some much-needed perspective on the whole "winning ugly" versus "attractive football" debate.

In so many ways, Stoke remind me of Big Jack’s Republic of Ireland during Italia 90, whose much-scrutinized long ball tactics brought them unfathomable successes, exulting Jack Charlton to national treasure status here in Ireland.

If stories are to be believed, his popularity is such, he has the freedom of this beauteous country; fishing, golfing, and drinking for nowt, in some of the finest spots it has to offer (What was Paul Jewell thinking?).

Allegedly, since taking the Irish job, the canny Northumberlander has yet to meet the price of a pint, as publicans nationwide wouldn’t hear of charging the great man. The endless yarns of how Jack endeared himself to the Irish you never tire of hearing, the stories have now become stuff of legend.

It is widely perceived, at the height of his fame, Jackie would offer to buy the whole pub a round of drinks, insisting he paid by cheque, knowing full well it would never be cashed, and that it would be framed and hung on the wall; where it still hangs to this day.

There is no doubt Charlton was and is a man of extraordinary character, and his idiosyncrasies sat well with the Irish public. But what Jack Charlton did for Irish football, in terms of achievement, cannot be underestimated, as he took football from the dark depths and relative obscurity of the back pages, and shoved it firmly into the forefront of the nation’s psyche.

Pulis and Stoke City (better known for their participation in petty lower league football violence in recent years) are going about achieving something similar. And I have to say, despite my grievances in the past, as long as we are competitive in the top division, I couldn’t give a monkeys whether we play pretty football or not.

Even if it means no chances in an away trip to Wigan, and subsequently, we get shown last each week on Match of the Day 2; a result, as Steve McLaren so eloquently pointed out recently, certainly is a result (well done for enlightening us all Steve).

In the current financial climate, needs must, and what is best for this club and its people indubitably takes precedence over anything else. Yes, Stoke City are bringing out the utilitarian in me, just as Big Jack did in so many of us, all those years ago. If Delap’s throw is to be judged by the happiness generated by its outcome, then there is no question of its value to the modern world of football.

As a writer from the Daily Express expertly put it, he did not enjoy seeing the kind of football Stoke are currently producing, nevertheless, he wishes they stay in this division for years to come, and be able to buy the kind of players capable of producing some quality and innovative attacking football.

I think his sentiments are echoed by most of us. But we can only play with what is in our armoury; and a decent goalkeeper, four dogged centre-halves (camped on the edge of our own penalty box), four strong defensive and combative central midfielders (sitting just in front of our defenders), a big strong defensive-minded attacker (playing anywhere other than attack), and Ricardo Fuller (though not now due to his shoulder injury), is, unfortunately, what we’ve got.

Throw Delap into the mix and the impressive starts new signings Etherington and Beattie have made, and so far, this impenetrable approach, seems to be working.

It is well documented that Big Jack’s Ireland relied heavily on their physical weaponry, yet—Dunphy aside—they received nothing but praise and admiration. They put the balls into the channels, passes were never made in field (in case of interception and vulnerability to the counter-attack), and he infamously favored great lumps of men both in defense and in attack.

Fancy football mattered little to Jackie, and to say he liked his players getting stuck in is litotes at its finest (listening to Aldridge describe how he went all out to cripple Romanian genius Hagi for "the lads", knowing an injury had cut short his own involvement, is shamelessly hilarious).

If fouling was for the good of the team, then Jack saw nothing wrong with it.

Not only was Jack Charlton a man of immense personality, but he was also a born winner, both as a player and as a manager. But as a manager, like Pulis, he was a pragmatist and his teams rarely gave away soft goals. In fact, he claims, when his first choice centre-back pairing of Mick McCarthy and Kevin Moran played together, his side never conceded from a set piece or header.

Ireland only scored one more goal from open play after that thunderbolt from Sheedy, and Quinny’s goal (Watch This) versus the Dutch couldn’t possibly have been more route-one. Yet, their run in the tournament did more for the popularity of soccer in Ireland than anything before or since, and elevated Charlton and his players to iconic status in football.

Pulis and his troops should be vaunted likewise.

My point is this: if you are successful, nobody cares how you go about it. Furthermore, nobody remembers teams who play great football and win nothing. Crewe have always played good football, so does every team in Holland (apart from FC Twente, despite McLaren’s best efforts to acclimatize—Watch This) and of course there’s Wenger’s latest crop at Arsenal, whom in spite of playing some sumptuous football at times, will be regular nobodies if they don’t win something.

The great Argentine footballer and philosopher, Jorge Valdano, suggests football is a metaphor for the time and place you are playing in. He who does not agree with the evolution of football does not believe in the evolution of the world.

Many see the way Stoke play as counter-productive and stagnant, but for me, they reflect an increasingly cautious society now in consolidation. We are not all as fortunate as the Arsenals of this world and we have to play with the tools we’ve been given.

In the words of Aristotle: The best choice for each individual is the highest it is possible for him to achieve. Stoke are doing just that, and in the process, they are restoring pride and harmony to the much-suffered place they call the Potteries.

The happiness Italia 90 aroused in me cannot be articulated. The effervescent memories it evokes are incomparable. If Stoke come within an iota of stirring up such intangible emotion, bringing happiness into the lives of thousands, even if they do play route-one football, then who is to be begrudging of that?

If Pulis, and Stoke fans alike, need ridding of such compunction, seek assurances that this teams' tactics are justified, then, they needn’t look further than "Big Jack" and his Republic.

And if anyone locates him, in the serenity of his Irish retreat; eating freshly caught trout on the banks of a scenic lough, supping on a creamy, ultimately free, pint of Guinness, then I think they will have found their answer.

This Article also features on The English Football Post