Stoopid

Playing the semis at Wembley is a horrible development. One of the best days in my early City-supporting years was the semi-final against WBA at Hillsborough in 69. The neutral ground made it special - it was a massive ground then - but you knew you hadn't quite made it to the Holy Grail of Wembley. That was reserved for the truly special occasions. The knowledge that we'd made it there when Clarkie scored at the end made that celebration something that I rarely felt again. Up there with Thommo's equaliser against Swindon and the title season. Having said that, I feel th

The queues at the bogs would be massive too. If they're anything like me, it'll take 10 minutes to dribble out what would have taken 10 seconds to do before swollen prostates got in the way.

Sometimes I got pulled off at half-time. (Made a nice change from oranges!)

Is he suspended for their next match (us), or does it start for their next league match?

Well, when I was playing it was one where you didn't have to carry your own goalposts off after the match...

A big club is one that doesn't have fans constantly beating themselves up over whether they're a big club or not...

I was 11 too. Sitting on the wall at the front of the Main Stand, near the Kop. Remember a lot of fighting going on in there, and not only there. Pre-segregation days of course, and pretty general mayhem taking place all over the shop. Volatile atmosphere, to put it mildly. Which made the Baker episode all the better really. Different days no doubt.

Got a memory of that Forest game (think it was that one), where Joe Baker came over to take a throw-in or a corner; he winked at the crowd, bent down, removed a comb from his sock and took a moment to run it through his impressive quiff. Even though he was one of the hated enemy, couldn't help smiling at that. For a few minutes he even rivalled the Doog in my affections.

So is every 5 minutes.

Even a glancing acquaintance with human nature should be enough to prove that conspiracy theories are highly unlikely, to put it mildly. Good for a laugh, maybe. But as recent events in America demonstrate so vividly, there's a real downside to believing in dream worlds. It seems that the Internet develops stupidity rather than intelligence. Maybe that's the idea behind it. Oh, hang on a minute...

I do not believe the Earth is flat, but I do believe my flat is on the Earth.

On the subject of pub dreams, I had one the other night where I had agreed to perform a few songs in the yard at the Rutland & Derby. The landlady made me dress in a weird yellow costume for some reason. Halfway through, some people came in with dogs on leads. I noticed that the dogs all seemed to be dead. I was filled with a feeling of horror. Quite unpleasant, and it took a while to regain my equilibrium on waking. I have a lot of odd dreams, but usually they're reasonably good-natured, even enjoyable. This one was not.

Feliz Navidad is Spanish for my Father was a sailor.

Try as he might, my brother couldn't get a ticket for the 63 final. On the day, he happened to be working close to the Central Station when he saw our Dad getting on one of the specials to Wembley. Our old man told my brother he'd try to get a ticket for him. He did, but decided to go himself. Without telling anyone. Brother wasn't happy. Reckoned he chased the train over West Bridge bur it was too late. Thought it was funny meself, but there again I couldn't stand my brother...

Zonal defending at corners means players have to make a decision while the ball is in flight - ie 'is it in my area or not?' That can lead to hesitation, specially if confidence isn't great anyway. And late movement by attackers is less likely to be picked up, not to mention mismatches in size. Makes no sense to me.