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Jon Gaunt, a man so right wing he makes A.Hitler look a world class centre midfielder

Hitler wasn't right-wing, he was a National Socialist.

If he'd played football he'd have been a maverick attacking player popping up all over the place (Austria, Poland, France, Russia), appearing on both wings and so attack orientated that he'd often neglect his defensive duties.
 
Jon Gaunt, a man so right wing he makes A.Hitler look a world class centre midfielder

I think TrueBlue likes him.

Here's his latest opus

WE don’t need an investigation into UFO sightings over Shropshire, we just need to investigate the mental state of those who believe in visitors from outer space.

Mind you, it wouldn’t surprise me if aliens have invaded our green and pleasant land. Let’s face it, every other nationality has — and they only had to hop in the back of a lorry, not a flying saucer.

Imagine if it were true and the police did find them.

Would their first words not be “take me to your leader” but “take me to your handouts”?

ET would definitely have to phone home . . . office and the only question for the coppers would be which language would the map have to be in that they give them to get to Lunatic House in Croydon?

Would they be able to claim and get child benefits for their children all over the universe, even if they couldn’t produce proof that they actually existed? Would millions of our taxes disappear into a benefits black hole?

Would they get their own day to celebrate their culture and what would the atmosphere be like? In this Brave New World of “intergalacticism”, would humans begin to feel strangers on their own planet. And if anyone suggested this open-planet policy was lunacy would they be condemned as “speciesist”?

If they committed crime would we be able to deport them or would that be an infringement of their alien rights?

People like Shami Chakrabarti would be concerned that on return to their planet they might be vaporised and as a result would give them and their families a nice house, police protection and benefits galore.

If anyone was suspected of committing terrorist crimes elsewhere in the universe, or even found guilty in their absence, would we allow them out of prison as long as they promised not to contact, among others, Davros (leader of the Daleks), Ming The Merciless and The Master?

Would we stand idly by and allow the extremists among them to shout repeatedly “Exterminate, Exterminate” on the streets of London? Would all sci-fi comics, films and DVDs have to be destroyed for fear of promoting alien phobia?

Sorry, now I’ve gone too far. That could never happen, could it . . . ?
 
Hitler wasn't right-wing, he was a National Socialist.

If he'd played football he'd have been a maverick attacking player popping up all over the place (Austria, Poland, France, Russia), appearing on both wings and so attack orientated that he'd often neglect his defensive duties.

A kind of political Andreiy Arshavin?
 
I think TrueBlue likes him.

Here's his latest opus

WE don’t need an investigation into UFO sightings over Shropshire, we just need to investigate the mental state of those who believe in visitors from outer space. Yadda Yadda Yadda, Burble, Burble, Burble.

Sorry, now I’ve gone too far. That could never happen, could it . . . ?

That might be one of the most ill-thought out, nonsensical and unintentionally hilarious columns I've ever read. I hope he handed that in while apologising.
 
Ronaldinho

It still remember it vividly. I was at a friend's house on a Saturday night in 2005 and we were having a glass of wine before hitting the town. Being of Spanish descent, she had the Real Madrid - Barcelona game on the television. We had no plans to watch the whole match, we were supposed to leave before half-time, but it just didn't turn out like that. Our plans were ruined by Ronaldinho. With our jaws hanging agape, we couldn't leave the house until it was finished and neither of us ever wanted it to end.

His single-handed demolition of Real Madrid in their own stadium remains one of the most incredible individual performances I've ever seen. No ballerina has ever looked more graceful. When he pointed at the sky in acknowledgement of the source of his powers, you believed that this was a young man who lived for the game and you wondered if there had ever been a better player. The Real Madrid fans, who revile the Catalan club and everything connected with it, could only stand and applaud their enemy. His genius transcended their hatred.

If you had said then that, in just three years time, there would be a question mark over his ability to perform in the EPL, no-one would have believed you. But today, as Chelsea and Manchester City jostle over his signature, it is difficult to see him as anything other than a bad piece of business.

To put it frankly, Ronaldinho doesn't care anymore. You can tell from the way that he vanished off the scene at the Camp Nou, despite the club's protestations that there was little wrong with him. You can tell from the way that you are more likely to see him on the set of a fizzy drink commerical than you are on a football pitch and you can tell from the size of his waistband that Ronaldinho is fat, frazzled and possibly finished. Looking at those pictures of him practically tripping over his chins in a friendly match was like seeing graffiti over the Mona Lisa.

The rot set in for him at the World Cup of 2006, despite the fact that a woefully out-of-shape Ronaldo was there to serve as his ghost of Christmas future. Ronaldinho ignored the warning. Brazil were almost as much of a letdown as England in Germany, turfed out at the quarter-final stage when Roberto Carlos decide that he couldn't be bothered to mark at set-pieces. Ronaldinho showed glimpses of his magic, but nothing more and the first fears that he had lost his focus were voiced. Then, on his return to La Liga, he made the mistake of peeling off his shirt to reveal a stomach that was less of a washboard and more of a washload. He laughed off reports that he was unfit, but there's no laughing now.

The EPL is one of the fastest, most physical leagues in the world. It's also the richest, which is the only reason why Ronaldinho's ludicrous wage demands are being considered. I would be overjoyed if he arrived in the UK, buckled down to work, shed two stone in flab and then returned to the glorious zenith of that night in the Bernabeu. Never mind Eric Cantona, Gianfranco Zola or Dennis Bergkamp, Ronaldinho would be the greatest player ever to perform on these shores. But if he doesn't shape up, no amount of t-shirt sales and merchandise will make up for the sight of a fat bloke lumbering uselessly around the pitch. If I was Mark Hughes or Luiz Felipe Scolari, I'd look elsewhere. They need footballers who are hungry for success in 2009, not ones who are still living off the glory of 2005.
 
Cristiano Ronaldo's endorsement

I interviewed Ron Harris, the legendary Chelsea defender, at Stamford Bridge once and it was a real eye-opener. As we sat, drinking coffee and chatting about Jose Mourinho, people walked past with their eyes on stalks. Fathers could be overheard telling their sons, "That's Ron Harris, that is. The greatest player Chelsea ever had." There was so much respect swilling around the room that I kept having to remind myself that I wasn't interviewing Nelson Mandela. Harris played for Chelsea from 1961 until 1980, pulling on the blue shirt more times than any other player. He didn't do stepovers, he didn't have a trademark free-kick and few would have described him as a heart-throb, but he'll have a legacy at Stamford Bridge that will last for decades.

Over at Old Trafford, a considerably more talented, but infinitely less classy Ron is working hard to ensure that his talents and contributions to Manchester United's cause will never be rebreed with anything other than a grimace. There is no concern for the respect of future generations, no desire for a legacy, no wish to repay the club that launched him as a global superstar. There is just naked greed and self-interest. How times have changed.

Cristiano Ronaldo's endorsement of Sepp Blatter's latest rant has snuffed out any faint hope that this long-running saga has been nothing but speculation, but it has also obliterated any sympathy that anyone may have had for the young star. It's rarely a good idea to align yourself with Blatter on any issue, but when he nonsensically compares modern day sportsmen to slaves, it should be a no-brainer. No slave is paid hundreds of thousands of pounds a week, and I've yet to hear about any that were offered the chance to negotiate their own period of servitude. It's a scandal that Blatter is allowed to wield so much power when he is so far out of touch with reality that he may as well be broadcasting from the Moon, but you expect better from Ronaldo, a boy who didn't exactly come from the richest background.

The argument that he has achieved everything at Old Trafford and therefore should be allowed to move to Real Madrid makes no sense either. If he thinks that two league titles and a European cup is the high-water mark of achievement, then he might want to take a look at Liverpool's trophy cabinet and get some perspective. True champions don't just win once and then vanish, they make a period of time synonymous with their own greatness. He hasn't even won as much as Graeme Souness yet.

The saddest thing is that everyone knows what will happen now. The Glazers will, quite understandably, renege on their earlier promise to make him rot in the reserves and they'll take the increasingly large amount of money on offer from Spain. Sir Alex Ferguson will be forced to replace one of the best players in the world, an impossible task because only Lionel Messi can be counted in that category, and he's not budging. Ronaldo will get his move and his money and I hope it makes him very happy. I wonder though, how long it will take him to realise what he's turned his back on.

With a staggering 42 goals from midfield last season, he had given himself a chance to be recognised as one of the greatest players ever to play for one of the greatest teams. By placing a knife between the shoulder-blades of the man who turned him from a skinny show-pony to a chiselled world-beater, he has determined how history will judge him. He does not deserve to be counted alongside the true greats like Sir Bobby Charlton, Dennis Law, George Best, Bryan Robson, Paul Scholes and Ryan Giggs. He will not be loved for years after he retires like Ron Harris is at Chelsea. He will simply remain as this generation's example of 'football going mad'. I hope he enjoys his legacy.
 
contributions to Manchester United's cause will never be rebreed with anything other than a grimace
???

I did, just for a while last season, think that Ronaldo had finally grown up, and was becoming both a great footballer and a more likeable person. Ho hum.

My favourite memory of Chopper Harris, who is ten times the man that Ronaldo will ever be, is of him being nutmegged by Terry Johnson... Happy days!
 
This is a vital season for Arsenal

At this time of year, particularly in the UK, it's not unusual to be struck down by the post-holiday blues. Everywhere you look you can see the sad, sun-tanned faces of those who have let their problems ebb away on a hot beach, only to return home to the sickening blow of normality. For some, the plight is even worse. Arsene Wenger would have loved to have returned to normality, but instead he arrived at pre-season training this week to find his intricately assembled squad tearing themselves apart.

Arsenal have a policy of refusing to spend 'silly money' on players wages, partly because the club is run sensibly, but mainly because shiny new stadiums don't come for free. With that in mind, Wenger has constructed his side on a tight budget, making use of a highly developed scouting network and scooping up the best young talent on the planet. He can't pay enormous salaries, but he can offer a footballing education, a chance of first-team experience and the opportunity to play in one of the most attractive sides in Europe. Up until now, the strategy has worked perfectly, but after this summer, Wenger may have to think again.

Emmanuel Adebayor's sudden demands for an astronomical payrise came as something of a surprise to everyone. The Togolese striker scored 24 goals in the last campaign, but it should be noted that this was the first time in his career that he had actually racked up double figures. He has great pace and physical strength, but his finishing is still erratic and his positioning is so bad that even a neutral like myself has been on the verge of standing up in the pressbox and bellowing, "For goodness sake, Emmanuel, you're miles offside!" He is a good striker, on the verge of maturing, but there are many better. It is a sad measure of the man that he appears willing to give up a first-team place and Champions League football in pursuit of his real love; money. Still, I'm sure he'll do very well in the UEFA Cup.

Aleksandr Hleb's departure was equally mystifying. The poor chap is reported to have said that he couldn't stand the frantic pace of life in London, and so he's been negotiating a move to a quiet Spanish fishing village by the name of Barcelona. It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the fact that Hleb lived in Hampstead, a phenomenally expensive and sedate suburb of London where the craziest thing you can do is to get whacked up on coffee and go second-hand book shopping. Either he's the most timid, retiring man in Europe, in which case I'd love to see his first impressions of Las Ramblas, or he's going for the money.

The acquisitions of Samir Nasri and Aaron Ramsey suggest that Wenger isn't about to change his formula, and that's reassuring to see. Rightly or wrongly, Arsenal's policy of progress through the education of youth seems more genuine and worthy than the rapid, expensive accumulation of ready-made talent and there's a sense that, in an ideal world, this is how all football managers would work. Unfortunately, as we've seen this summer, the real world has a habit of shattering Utopian visions.

This is a vital season for Arsenal. It is now five years since Les Invincibles began their incredible unbeaten season, but since that triumph, Arsenal have won just a single FA Cup. Wenger's ability to bewitch observers with style has masked what is now becoming a serious issue. They're not actually winning anything. That in itself should be enough of a worry for fans, but more concerning is the thought that, one of these days, Wenger is going to want to come back from holiday without having to worry about wage budgets. The players aren't the only stars who can move on.
 
Dimitar Berbatov

Tottenham fans won't be able to draw much comfort from the news that Manchester United have made an official bid for Dimitar Berbatov, but there is at least one bonus; it might shut Emil Danchev up for a while. Berbatov's dastardly agent has been agitating for a move away from White Hart Lane ever since his client first started scoring goals there. The Bulgarian striker even tried publicly admonishing him on one occasion, but to no avail. Danchev just kept on talking. Silence will be golden.

Unfortunately that's all that Spurs fans can cling to because, make no mistake, Berbatov's departure will be a crushing blow for the club. It won't just mean saying goodbye to one of their most elegant players since Chris Waddle, it will mean that the rest of the squad are forced to reassess their career prospects, particularly strike-partner Robbie Keane, who was last spotted thumbing through a list of property prices in the north west while humming 'Ferry Cross The Mersey'. Whether Rafa Benitez gets his man or not, Keane has reportedly made it clear that he'd relish a move to the club he supported as a boy, so it's fair to say that his focus has drifted a little. New arrivals Luka Modric and Giovanni Dos Santos will be equally unimpressed, concerned that their advisors have directed them towards a selling club, and a selling club with no strikeforce at that.

Interestingly, it leaves the 19th highest-paid footballer on the planet, Darren Bent, to carry the burden of Tottenham's season. Only Spurs could splash nearly £20m on a striker they didn't need and then pay him more than the World Player of the Year, Fabio Cannavaro, but now he has a chance to impress. Last season's return of just 6 goals in 27 appearances wasn't entirely unsurprising given that a fair number of those appearances lasted for about five minutes, but Bent remains an interesting player. He's quick and strong, and he certainly can't complain of fatigue. However, he is just one man.

If Keane and Berbatov, one of the most potent partnerships in European football, do both leave then Juande Ramos will have to hit the stores quickly to buy replacements and there isn't much left on the shelves. Samuel Eto'o reportedly said that Tottenham wasn't a big enough challenge for him, which made him sound like one of those teenagers who can complete a Rubik's Cube in 30 seconds. Apparently, he's off to Uzbekistan anyway in a transfer that is all about challenges and absolutely not in any way about earning ludicrous amounts of money for very little work. Ramos has a natural preference for the Spanish transfer market which would put Diego Milito and Daniel Guiza in the frame, but he'll have to fight off a number of cash-rich rivals to secure either of them. It's certainly not the way he would have wanted his first full season to start.

But Tottenham's biggest problem is not simply the question of identifying replacements, nor is it placating the superstars that remain. It is the damage to their quest for continuity that will hurt the most. Every time they start to look balanced, dangerous and ready to break into the elite, something goes wrong somewhere and they come crashing off the rails. Last season was supposed to be 'the year' but injuries to Ledley King and Michael Dawson meant that they started the campaign with a backline as soft as wet cheese. Tottenham have been in a transitional season since 1992 and, with men like Danchev doing their best to wreck whatever progress they make, they'll be in one for a lot longer as well.
 
I interviewed Ron Harris, the legendary Chelsea defender, at Stamford Bridge once and it was a real eye-opener. As we sat, drinking coffee and chatting about Jose Mourinho, people walked past with their eyes on stalks. Fathers could be overheard telling their sons, "That's Ron Harris, that is. The greatest player Chelsea ever had." There was so much respect swilling around the room that I kept having to remind myself that I wasn't interviewing Nelson Mandela. Harris played for Chelsea from 1961 until 1980, pulling on the blue shirt more times than any other player. He didn't do stepovers, he didn't have a trademark free-kick and few would have described him as a heart-throb, but he'll have a legacy at Stamford Bridge that will last for decades.

Over at Old Trafford, a considerably more talented, but infinitely less classy Ron is working hard to ensure that his talents and contributions to Manchester United's cause will never be rebreed with anything other than a grimace. There is no concern for the respect of future generations, no desire for a legacy, no wish to repay the club that launched him as a global superstar. There is just naked greed and self-interest. How times have changed.

Cristiano Ronaldo's endorsement of Sepp Blatter's latest rant has snuffed out any faint hope that this long-running saga has been nothing but speculation, but it has also obliterated any sympathy that anyone may have had for the young star. It's rarely a good idea to align yourself with Blatter on any issue, but when he nonsensically compares modern day sportsmen to slaves, it should be a no-brainer. No slave is paid hundreds of thousands of pounds a week, and I've yet to hear about any that were offered the chance to negotiate their own period of servitude. It's a scandal that Blatter is allowed to wield so much power when he is so far out of touch with reality that he may as well be broadcasting from the Moon, but you expect better from Ronaldo, a boy who didn't exactly come from the richest background.

The argument that he has achieved everything at Old Trafford and therefore should be allowed to move to Real Madrid makes no sense either. If he thinks that two league titles and a European cup is the high-water mark of achievement, then he might want to take a look at Liverpool's trophy cabinet and get some perspective. True champions don't just win once and then vanish, they make a period of time synonymous with their own greatness. He hasn't even won as much as Graeme Souness yet.

The saddest thing is that everyone knows what will happen now. The Glazers will, quite understandably, renege on their earlier promise to make him rot in the reserves and they'll take the increasingly large amount of money on offer from Spain. Sir Alex Ferguson will be forced to replace one of the best players in the world, an impossible task because only Lionel Messi can be counted in that category, and he's not budging. Ronaldo will get his move and his money and I hope it makes him very happy. I wonder though, how long it will take him to realise what he's turned his back on.

With a staggering 42 goals from midfield last season, he had given himself a chance to be recognised as one of the greatest players ever to play for one of the greatest teams. By placing a knife between the shoulder-blades of the man who turned him from a skinny show-pony to a chiselled world-beater, he has determined how history will judge him. He does not deserve to be counted alongside the true greats like Sir Bobby Charlton, Dennis Law, George Best, Bryan Robson, Paul Scholes and Ryan Giggs. He will not be loved for years after he retires like Ron Harris is at Chelsea. He will simply remain as this generation's example of 'football going mad'. I hope he enjoys his legacy.


http://http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2o4HY65P8Bc
 
Didnt Guiza move to Fenerbache!

If he did think you need to do some more research lol :P

Good point about Berbatov's agent though. Admittidly, i hate all football Agents, they make things so much harder than anything actually is and half the time are only concerned about getting there share of the money not about finding whats best for the actual player.
 
Claude Makelele

When Roman Abramovich first pumped Chelsea full of roubles in 2003, it sparked a frenzied shopping spree that would have put Coleen Rooney to shame. Hundreds of millions of pounds were splashed out on an array of talent, but I very much doubt if any of it was put to better use than the £16.8m that was ear-marked for the capture of Claude Makelele from Real Madrid. The French midfielder, who left Stamford Bridge yesterday for Paris St Germain, will be sorely missed after five years of exceptional service.

It was astonishing that he was ever allowed to leave the Bernabeu in the first place. Only a fool could have questioned his contribution to the team but, unfortunately for Real, that's exactly the kind of person who had been allowed to take control of the club. Florentino Perez's 'galatico' policy meant that Makelele was paid a fraction of the riches bestowed upon his more glamorous team-mates. Despite repeated pleas for parity, backed up by the support of his colleagues, the man responsible for making the team tick was shown the door.

"We will not miss Makelele," burbled Perez upon his departure. "His technique is average, he lacks the speed and skill to take the ball past opponents, and 90% of his distribution either goes backwards or sideways."

This though, as anyone with even the slightest understanding of football knew, was precisely why he should have been adequately rewarded. Makelele was so good that his name became the description of a whole new position. Within a year of his arrival in England, anyone who was anyone was scouring the earth for a 'Makelele-type' player. Someone to scrap around in front of the defenders, breaking up attacks, seizing possession and then selflessly releasing the ball to a more creative team-mate.

Makelele's refusal to ever try and hog the limelight made him a popular figure in the dressing room, but despite his low profile his importance to Chelsea could never be understated. Opposing managers even tried to man-mark him on occasion, an unprecedented 'honour' for a defensive midfielder, but he was always tenacious enough to find a way around their attentions.

"He's an absolute dream to play with, especially if you're an attacking midfield player," said Frank Lampard before the Champions League final. "He's one of the greatest midfield players in the world, he has been for a long time, and all of us players know exactly why."

Of all the Makelele memories most cherished by his fans, his first goal at Stamford Bridge must be one of the most heart-warming. With the 2004-05 title already secured, Chelsea had to play Charlton at home before they were allowed to lift the trophy. It was a tight, scrappy end of season affair, neither team pushing forward with any enthusiasm. Then, in injury time, Jonathan Fortune sent Lampard tumbling in the box and a penalty was awarded. As one, the Chelsea players dragged Makelele forward and pushed the ball into his hands. This was his 94th game for Chelsea and he had never scored. This was his moment. Stamford Bridge went silent, Makelele stepped up and, rather inevitably, hit a weak shot straight at the goalkeeper. Typically though, he never stopped moving. He pounced on the rebound, slotted it home and then vanished underneath a pile of jubilant blue shirts

After years of being taken for granted in Madrid, London simply took him to her heart. Now that he's gone, and for once it's Chelsea who find themselves looking for a 'Makelele-type' midfielder, fans of all clubs will surely hope that he enjoys success in Paris.
 
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