The candid thoughts of former Premier League referee Colin Preece, as recorded by our eavesdropping mole in the Duck and Peasant.
What I would like to discuss this evening is bigger than football, bigger than sport as a whole. No, Baz, not why so many pop stars are dying this year – that’s just one of those things. I’m talking about man’s inhumanity to man. Seriously, Dave, it’s something that troubles me, and has done ever since I myself was vilified – slagged off, Baz – for the crime of falling in love. Six months down the road, Jody and I are very much devo ted to each other and the future, and what’s done is done. You can’t change the past, which is what my ex is trying to do, and it’s made me look at the world in a new light.
Yes, I know we always talk about football, and we’re going to, but not the game itself. I am disgusted with the way so-called fans have a go at their manager if results don’t go their way.
Take Roberto Martinez at Everton. It was all sweetness and light when he came in, because he’d just taken Wigan to glory, he had a reasonable first season but this year they’ve been disappointing and suddenly he’s an idiot.
Well, it’s not fair, is it? He’s the same manager he was before, and sometimes you have to live through the bad times to appreciate the good.
Wenger at Arsenal, even worse scenario. The guy brought them success for several years and then through circumstances beyond his control he had to operate differently from everyone else, because for the sake of the future they had to pay for a new stadium and therefore he couldn’t spend money on players. And apparently in order for the club to borrow the money, the banks insisted he sign a five-year contract, so obviously they believed in him.
Well, Dave, we have to give bank managers some credit. Many may be prats but that doesn’t mean they know nothing about football. I once met one who was a Mansfield Town fan, and good for him, supporting his home town club even though he was living in the land of milk and honey – London – and could quite easily have switched to Millwall and no one would have known.
Cheers, Gary, bottle of Grolsch if they have such a thing. Something decent in a bottle, anyway, whatever you think.
You’ve got to be thick-skinned to be a manager. Look at Rafa Benitez. Spends five minutes at Real Madrid, doesn’t do too bad but they boot him out because they want Zidane. And Benitez ends up at Newcastle, trying to avoid relegation. And talking of Benitez, remember when he went to Chelsea temporarily – everyone knew it wasn’t a permanent post – but the fans gave him terrible stick just because he had been at Liverpool.
I don’t know. Where’s the respect, where’s the intelligence? Get rid of Wenger and you could be on the managerial merry-go-round for years and end up with Louis Van Gaal or his spiritual heir who’s been bouncing around the world, winning things and gaining experience and looking for a home. That’s all they’re doing, lads, just looking for a home where they can enjoy their life and not worry about tomorrow. Obviously they don’t have to worry financially, if they’ve got any sense at all, because they do get paid a lot.
But there’s family, there’s peace of mind, there’s the kids and the dog getting freaked out because they’ve got no stability, no consistency. One minute they’re in McDonalds in west London and the next they’re in Burger King in Valencia. It must be hard, guys. And the missus is screaming “Why can’t we settle down and have a normal life? I wish I’d married that bus driver, at least I’d have known where to call home.”
You can mock, Dave, but we only get one go at life and the least we can ask is to be able to remember our address and phone number.
Yeah, she’s driving me mad, Baz, trolling me on Facebook, spreading rumours, slagging Jody off, the lot…