Forget Wenger. Benitez is this season’s biggest loser.

A burglary took place at Arsenal’s ground and the entire contents of the trophy room were stolen. Police are looking for a man with a red and white carpet.

It’s usually West Ham on the receiving end of the above joke, but after yet another silverware-free season it’s the Gunners who are in serious danger of becoming a laughing stock. Despite rumblings of discontent and Real Madrid rumours, Arsenal fans have got behind their under-fire manager in recent days, and Wenger now looks set to stay.

Taxi for Wenger?

 Unfortunately, despite the glimmer of hope offered by earlier boardroom wranglings, Liverpool’s Rafael Benitez will also be gracing us with his poor taste in facial hair and complete lack of humility for yet another season. I say “unfortunately” but, actually, I take that back. At least with him in charge, Liverpool will continue to be nothing more than nearly-men.

Because whilst Wenger has come in for a hefty amount of criticism recently, the Spaniard has avoided being lambasted – despite winning absolutely nothing for the third consecutive year. OK, so Rafa’s embarrassing defeat to Fergie in the mind-games department has earned him some stick, as has the sore loser routine that followed Manchester United’s title triumph. But nevertheless, the majority still seem to be under the impression that he is the right man to lead Liverpool to the title, 19 years on from when they last won it.

Second is nowhere: no silverware again for Benitez

Clearly, these are patient people. On his arrival at the club, Benitez launched a five-year plan, pledging to re-establish Liverpool as English football’s top club. That was in 2004. It’s now 2009. By my calculations, that means time’s up.

Already given more second chances than Peter Mandelson, the memory of glory in Istanbul is the only thing that has kept Benitez in the job this long. In finishing runners-up (unless Chelsea pull off a final-day mini-miracle, that is) he seems to have once again placated fans just enough to maintain their faith and loyalty, but how much longer can he pull the wool over their eyes? Three years and no trophies is simply not good enough for a man who vowed to propel Liverpool to Premier League glory.

Forget Arsenal and Wenger. The trail of broken promises suggests it’s Benitez who’s the joke. No doubt Fergie will be laughing all the way to Rome.

Frank Lampard: snubbed by the PFA, but could he win Football Writers’ award?

I was irritated – if not surprised – by the one glaring omission from the PFA Player of the Year shortlist. Frank Lampard has been in brilliant form this season and anyone who says otherwise is, quite frankly, stupid – or a West Ham fan. Not that the two are mutually exclusive, of course.

Lampard has been in fantastic form for Chelsea

Feeling impelled to defend the Chelsea midfielder’s honour, I was all ready to decry the laughable situation – and it wouldn’t have been a difficult task. 18 goals in 46 games. The most assists in the Premier League. That all-important last-minute winner against Stoke. And the one against Wigan. Not to mention the brace that finally sunk Liverpool in the Champions League.

In the end though, it was unnecessary. Such was the outpouring of media indignation, I decided I’d leave it to the professionals. Martin Samuel called Lampard’s absence from the list both “eccentric” and “ludicrous”, whilst Matt Hughes described it as “nothing short of a scandal”. John Cross described him as “a real shining example to other English players” and Andy Dunn wrote he would “defy anyone” to find a “genuinely poor” Lampard performance this season. Other journalists added their support, not to mention Chelsea players including John Terry, Ashley Cole and Michael Ballack.

It is ironic that, in being excluded from the list, the England international has won far more praise than he would have done otherwise. Had he made the final six, he would have been overshadowed – again, quite wrongly – by the likes of Ryan Giggs and Steven Gerrard. Instead, the absurdity of him not  reaching the shortlist has prompted something of a Lampard media love-in.  

As a result, one wouldn’t bet against him being named the Football Writers’ Player of the Year  – an award he clinched in 2005 and one that is far more prestigious anyway, since it is voted for by people with intellects far higher than your average footballer. I dare say the common sense and bravery of journalists will not extend quite far enough to see Lampard win it – but he should. Even under Scolari, when the likes of Ballack and Didier Drogba looked liked they’d struggle to get in the Hare and Hounds Sunday League side, he was exceptional. Whilst he has been a bastion of consistency this season, the shortlisted players have all experienced peaks and troughs in their form.

And yes, that includes Saint Steven Gerrard. But best not get me started on him…

Film review: The Damned United

Think Brian Clough and the chances are it will be the back-to-back European Cups he won as manager of Nottingham Forest that come to mind. Or the way in which he took Derby County from the depths of Division Two and made them the best side in England. Or perhaps it will not involve footballing achievements at all, but simply the controversy that surrounded the no-nonsense northerner throughout his career.

Michael Sheen is brilliant as the charismatic Clough

Ironically though, it is Clough’s oft-forgotten, doomed 44-day tenure at Leeds that best encapsulates his flawed genius and provides the focus for The Damned United.

Films about football are notoriously hard to get right. So are films adapted from best-selling books. All credit to director Tom Hooper and screenplay writer Peter Morgan then, who keep the on-field action to a minimum and concentrate on a character-driven analysis of Clough (played by Michael Sheen) and his relationships with others.

The film is gentler than David Peace’s novel of the same name, glossing over Clough’s alcoholism and instead centring the action around his paranoid obsession with rival manager, Don Revie (Colm Meaney), and reliance on level-headed assistant Peter Taylor (Timothy Spall).

Sheen is outstanding in the lead role, again demonstrating his extraordinary ability to impersonate real-life characters, just as he did as Tony Blair in The Queen and Sir David Frost in Frost/Nixon. The interweaving of archive footage means he is pitted against the actual Clough throughout, but he nevertheless produces a hugely convincing re-enactment of the man’s ego-driven charisma and dry wit. “I wouldn’t say I’m the best manager in the business – but I’m in the top one,” Clough once famously remarked.

Bringing to life what many a middle-aged man will insist was the ‘golden age’ of football, the film’s appeal is not limited to just those interested in the game. With superb performances, a script light on football jargon and an unconventional love story at its heart, The Damned United should score with all audiences.

Islington Now: some highlights

For the past two weeks some of my City coursemates and I have been working on Islington Now, a local newspaper complete with website.

Incidentally, this also explains my recent neglect of this blog, since it has been a busy fortnight.  In the first production week I was appointed Online Editor, this week I have been a sports reporter and, for the final issue, I am taking on the rather daunting role of News Editor.

It may be hard work, but this latest challenge has proved perhaps the most enjoyable part of our course so far, as we can put into practice all we have learnt over the year. We’ve been pleased with the results so far, particularly the website’s multimedia content. Highlights include David Christopher’s brilliant graffiti audio slideshow, our latest sports podcast and Abigail Edge’s map of Islington’s famous residents.

My own latest effort is a video about the Islington Panthers basketball team:

Apologies for the shameless plug, but please continue to visit www.islingtonnow.co.uk next week, for news, features, sport and more from across the borough.

BBC sport and the broadcasters who fall at the first hurdle

Colin Jackson hurdled his way to victory at two World Championships and four European Championships, as well as clinching Olympic silver in 1988. Sadly, the only thing he’d win now is an award for being the most ineloquent man on the BBC.

Jackson perfectly encapsulates the presumption made by many a sport producer, namely: “He/she was good at [insert sport], so he/she will be good at talking about [insert sport], right?” Wrong. Very, very wrong.

Colin Jackson: great athlete, nice bloke, useless on telly.

In an article for the Sports Journalists’ Association, Randall Northam has implored the BBC’s new Head of Sport, Barbara Slater, to recognise the error of her predecessor’s ways and ditch “the plethora of ex-sportsmen and women who dominate our screens”.

I couldn’t agree more.

The list of sporting heroes who have turned their hand to broadcasting is seemingly endless, but there are a few who stand out – for all the wrong reasons, of course.

Let’s start with Wimbledon where, year after year, tennis great Boris Becker proves he should stick to romping in broom cupboards in his spare time. In fairness, I might actually find his commentary insightful, entertaining and witty – if I could understand a word he was saying. Meanwhile punditry newcomer Tim Henman continues to consolidate his ‘nice but dull’  image, with a delivery as wooden as an antique racket.  

Footballers aren’t exactly renowned for their rhetoric, so it should come as no surprise that they haven’t all fared well on the Match of the Day sofa. Some would argue that what Ian Wright lacked in ability he made up for in enthusiasm. Others would just say he was an idiot. And besides, Tony Adams’ brilliantly shambolic past appearances on MOTD2 provided far more comedy value.

Wright got sick of playing the clown on the BBC

In the end, it was Wright who chose to part company with the BBC - and he’s not the only sporting star to have done so. Tired of being a national laughing stock, former athlete Sally Gunnell quit her £60,000 a year interviewing job, complaining that she had been given no proper training. It was a fair point. Others spend years honing their interview technique before they are let loose on TV; Gunnell was given a microphone and told to do her worst. So she did.

There are exceptions to the rule, of course. Sue Barker has proved rather better at presenting than she ever was at tennis, whilst John McEnroe, Michael Johnson and Matthew Pinsent have also taken to broadcasting with seeming ease. Brendan Foster and Steve Cram might spend far too much time talking about Paula Radcliffe (take your bets on how many times they will mention her when commentating on the London Marathon…a race she is not even taking part in), but at least they can speak in full sentences and know their stuff. Meanwhile Gary Lineker has made Match of the Day his own and, their weekly Liverpool love-ins aside, even Alan Hansen and Mark Lawrenson are good entertainment value.

Clearly then it is possible for sportsmen and women to be good broadcasters, but few make the grade and we can only hope Slater exercises some discretion when it comes to employing them in future. Otherwise, in 20 years time, we could have Michael Carrick and Joe Cole talking us through the day’s football action. Ya know wot I mean?

Jose Mourinho: not so special anymore?

Ahead of tonight’s Champions League clash between Inter Milan and Manchester United (which kicks off in a matter of seconds!), here is a piece I wrote for my City University sport specialism:

Anyone who saw Jose Mourinho unveiled as the new manager of Inter Milan could be forgiven for thinking that the self-acclaimed “Special One” had undergone something of a makeover. The swarthy good looks were still there. So was the designer suit and matching stubble. Exuding charm, the Portuguese seemed at ease with the spotlight as usual.

Except something was missing; something so synonymous with Mourinho that its non-appearance was strangely unnerving. Where was it? Where was the arrogance?

With uncharacteristic humility the former Chelsea boss described himself as just “a normal manager at a special club”. Was this attempt to shed himself of the moniker he had created on arriving in the Premier League a sign of things to come? In the weeks and months since, has Mourinho opted to stay out of trouble?

 To the relief of many, the answer is no. In fact far from being on his best behaviour, Mourinho has courted more controversy than ever before.

Mourinho thinks he is "special" - but do the Italians agree?

Free food and football: the Emirates experience

Journalists aren’t what they used to be – at least not when it comes to their alcohol intake. Despite the lure of a free bar, it was a freezer full of Ben and Jerry’s that proved the top attraction in the press suite of the Emirates Stadium on Monday evening.

The Emirates became home to Arsenal in 2006

Thanks to Times football correspondent, Matt Hughes, I got my hands on a press pass for Arsenal’s FA Cup tie with Cardiff and, as a result, sampled the ground’s impressive facilities. According to Matt the Emirates is a favourite for journalists, and it’s easy to see why. As well as the impressive array of free food and drink (pie, mash and mushy peas at half-time being my personal highlight), the press box is spacious and well-equipped, and the post-match procedures well organised.

Indeed the latter highlighted the surprising camaraderie and co-operation between journalists from different publications. One is selected to go down the tunnel to obtain quotes from players – they then pass these on to “rival” newspapers, with failure to do so resulting in serious unpopularity. What’s more, being ostracised won’t do you any favours in the long-term, since during the match journalists help each other out by exchanging information. Queries are regularly voiced. How many goals has Bendtner scored this season? What’s Cardiff’s away form been like? Who took that corner? The chances are someone will know the answer and be happy to help.

Eduardo was the hero for Arsenal having recovered from his horrific injury

Day to day these correspondents are in fierce competition but on match days any rivalry is forgotten, and the press conference provided another opportunity to see them at work. Dave Jones exchanged lively banter with one particularly vocal hack, whilst Arsene Wenger lived up to his reputation as a media favourite by coming out with plenty of quoteable lines.

Then it was back to the laptops to update the “runners” written during the match. Arsenal’s impressive display meant the result was beyond doubt some time before the final whistle, making it a comfortable night both for them and the journalists. No last-gasp winners to prompt a hasty rewrite, and a perfect back page story thanks to Eduardo’s comeback double.

“Indifference is worse than despair” – just ask Greg Rusedski

Rusedski has had enough of retirement

So, David Beckham has won his 108th England cap, thus equalling the great Bobby Moore’s record. Cue a flurry of newspaper columns/radio phone-in debates/beer-fuelled chats in the pub about the midfielder’s credentials. Is he overrated? Is he underrated? Is anyone else mind-numbingly bored of having this conversation?

In contrast to Beckham, Greg Rusedski has occupied few column inches with his decision to come out of retirement. Always a bad sign that. When your comeback is greeted with little more than a mildly surprised scoff (if you’re lucky to provoke any reaction at all, of course), you should know that it’s time to quit…again. Just ask All Saints.

With John Lloyd snubbing him and no wildcards as yet, perhaps Rusedski should be looking to Joe Calzaghe for a lesson on going out on top.

Then again, when your greatest achievement is losing the 1997 US Open Final, at least you haven’t got far to fall.

Scolari sacked: how Twitter broke the news

This afternoon I really experienced and appreciated the benefits of Twitter for the first  time. Having signed in with the intention of making some mundane comment about what I had for lunch, I was greeted by the news that Chelsea had sacked Luiz Felipe Scolari. My City coursemate Chris Cutmore tweeted the shock development (with some glee, I suspect) within seconds of it breaking, thus alerting me to the fact that my club is once again in turmoil. Had he not done so, I could well have remained ignorant until my daily dose of 6 o’clock news and, consequently, been deprived of the strangely satisfying pleasure of breaking it to my mum (who still lives in hope of the Special One’s return).

Scolari was sacked after just seven months in charge

Tomorrow’s papers will no doubt perform the post-mortem, whilst also speculating on who will replace Scolari. The Chelsea job is now competing with Newcastle for ultimate poisoned chalice status, and the odd mid-season timing means options could be limited. Guus Hiddink and (god forbid) Avram Grant are rumoured to be on the shortlist, whilst old boys Gianfranco Zola, Roberto Di Matteo and Mark Hughes have also been mooted.

And if things get really desperate, rumour has it that Dennis Wise could be looking for work again soon…

Carol Thatcher and apologies galore: the sorry tale continues

It started with Brand and Ross. Now everyone’s at it. Michael Phelps, Christian Bale, Miley Cyrus, Matt Stevens, Jeremy Clarkson, the BBC, even the Queen. Yes, they are all “deeply sorry” for “any offence caused”.

Thatcher has been sacked by the BBC

 The latest protagonist of this “sorry” tale is Carol Thatcher, sacked from her job on the BBC’S One Show for comparing French tennis player Jo-Wilfried Tsonga to a golliwog. Off-air, I might add. Of course Thatcher should not have said it (she surely must have known it had the potential to offend), but in refusing to issue a public apology she actually won some respect. Yes, she could have bowed to BBC pressure, said how terribly sorry she was, acknowledged what an enormous mistake she had made, etc, etc, etc. But would she have meant it? No. And I’d rather have no apology than a hollow one.

Thatcher and the apology boom has sparked much comment across the blogosphere, with Iain Dale highlighting the apparent inconsistencies of the BBC, Jon Jacob exploring the psychology behind saying sorry and Steve Kettell asking: “Does anyone seriously think that sacking Thatcher is going to make her, or her dimwitted blathering counterparts, change her mind to any single degree? Does anyone really believe that Clarkson is racked with remorse for his remarks about Brown?”

Indeed one only has to look at the half-hearted nature of some of these recent apologies (Clarkson’s and Cyrus’s being the best examples) to realise the absurdity of the whole thing. Russell Brand’s refusal to maintain a dignified silence on the Sachsgate affair further labours the point.

It seems Elton John had it all wrong. Sorry is an easy word to utter. Meaning it is the hardest bit.