Ahhh vacation, when the neurotic micromanage time into tiny tidbits not long enough to melt 24 hours into eternity. The American vacation, not necessarily synonymous with occupation of a foreign nation, usually revolves around “to do lists”, “guidebooks”, and breakneck walking as we try to see the Eiffel tower, the Mesquite de Cordoba, and the Coliseum all in one day. In sum, we need vacations from our vacation. And that time has come.
My original plans for this Premiership preview were quite simple – I would link to Brian who would link to Fredo. Last year, SIATS blew everybody’s collective mind by accurately predicting to the tenth degree every single Premiership fixture and 75% of the Cup thinger-ma-jigger-whatever(s). It was as if Nostradamus had broken the outer lens of the the Hubble telescope, turned it into a peace pipe, and graciously passed around some of that knowledge.
Alas, I am afraid it appears Bedorarrci has drugged the protagonist and I must carry Frodo to the promised land. With help from Kate Perry of course. So here you have it – a Premiership preview in terms of vapid pop songs that plagued the airwaves in the US of A. Or, alternatively, “how to improve mobility and decrease risk of cardiovascular illness your next stay-cation.” Vamos.
When somebody leaves Chelsea for money, you know either the Universe is an ironically just place, or Liverpool is in serious trouble. Or both. Placing Joe Cole behind the striker may make up for his lack of pace due to age & injury, but is Stevie G really the withdrawn drummer to lead the march to the Champions League?
Liverpool is Katy Perry – a disheartening and disturbing transformation. Unlike Perry’s past, which includes being a Christian singer and the profound song title “You’re so gay”, Liverpool were the elite of Europe a few years ago. Yet the credit crunched right when the overextended American owners landed. Forced to play Ngog, Babel, and other Rafa miscues has left Scousers as shallow up front as the lyrics to “California Girls.” Is Joe Cole as cool as Snoop Dawg? Arguably, yes. But a few moments of rapping brilliance won’t be enough.
Meanwhile, Arsenal finds itself in an odd position – the global economic meltdown means that almost every other club is pinching pennies. Will Wenger’s prudent policies make the Gunners the king of the scrooges? Arshavin is rested. Cesc is not in Catalunya. Van Persie learned to play forward effectively without scoring goals. Cesc is not in Catalunya. Nasri looks lively. Cesc is not in Catalunya. Alexander Song looked good in the World Cup. Cesc is not in Catalunya.
The Gunners are Eminem – the rhythm and flow remain the same, but success may return several years later. Arsenal fans love the way Wenger lies, but can the backline break a cycle of dysfunction that makes Slim Shady seem the prudent marriage counselor? Goodbye Gallas was addition by subtraction, but ultimately Abou Diaby will be the next Patrick Vieira, or will be the eternally next next Patrick Vieira.
Up in Manchester, the town has gotten somewhat small with the Blue shirts signing any warm body looking for a wage boost. Nevertheless, Manchester United is BoB. After the Community Shield victory and a stunning return to form last spring, could Paul Scholes sparkle like a shooting star?
Manchester United fans wish that the Glazers had never purchased their beloved club – if a leveraged buyout was a bad idea pre-2009, post stockalypse it is chinese water torture meets time bomb. The last major purchase, Dimitar Berbatov, has yet to show his best form. Every defender but Vidic has a glaring weakness, from O’Shea’s footspeed to Ferdinand’s fitness to Evans’ maturity. Still, Valencia and Nani should wreak havoc on the wings. After last season’s disappointment, can the Red Devils change flight and be back winning titles at the end of the night?
At the other end of town, Manchester City is Talo Cruz. Which is to say, we know nothing about Talo and we know everything about Talo. While Mancini takes to the sidelines wearing his favorite brands, notably a scarf, when faced with adversity, the Blues seem to throw their hands up in the air. Each player is a microcosm of the club – on the verge of world class, but lacking that “it.”
Given the surplus of talents, plus the presence of ever unhappies Carlos Tevez & Emmanuel Adebayor, a stick of dynamite would be less explosive than the Blues’ locker room. Last season Mancini managed the egos, but as ridiculous wages anchor anxious players to Eastlands, the sheer size of the problem may overwhelm the Italian tactician. City came close to the promised land, barely losing out to Spurs for a shot at the European promised land. With Yaya Toure adding balance to midfield alongside Gareth Barry, expectations are higher, but trophies may still be just beyond reach.
In London, Tottenham is Enrigue Iglesias. Before you could always crack a joke and be generally indifferent. Sure, bailamos was a decent song. Yeah, dimelo had a nice beat. But reggaeton? Reggaeton? Whether or not you or I like it, the Spurs will be representing the isles in European club competition. Try not to let the rhythm of your churning stomach take you over.
The European nights will sap precious energy from Tottenham. And the savvy European opposition will pose problems. Gareth Bale will run into three defenders to no avail. Robbie Keane’s finishing and timing will come in handy on occasion, emphasis on on occasion. Wilson Palacio’s typically suspect passing will shift gears to “always suspect.” And Lukas Modric will look like an all-star. He is. Still, as the curse of the Europa league has sabotaged many a season at AstonVilla, expect similar scars for Spurs. Yet you won’t be able to turn your head away from the wreckage.
Chelsea are, of course, Travis McCoy. But here’s the catch – Chelsea really are billionaires. For those unaware, Travis dreams that zeroes and bank accounts will afford luxury and eliminate problems. Err, wrong.
Malouda & Anelka have adapted well to the Premiership, but can they be counted on to not strike at the first rumble of disturbance? Frank Lampard hopefully has seen a hypnotist and draws a blank when asked about the months of June & July. Didier Drogba’s arm does not hide the fact he’ a diver, but surely he will dive more carefully so as to avoid re-injury. The Blues barely edged United at the finish line last season, but the exit of effective subs like Cole, Deco, and Ballack, stretch them too thin.
So, in sum, my prediction for the English Premiership is a top-down corporate structure controlled by elite tastemakers whose decisions behind closed doors determine your preferences by artificially limiting options. In a word, Manchester United.
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