Having just watched a fine second half performance by the Netherlands to overcome Brazil (though Van Bommel should be quietly told that Salut! Sunderland would have booked him for the rotten offence of trying to get an opponent – Michel Bastos – sent off, and then again for his two subsequent fouls in successive minutes), I was already happy enough. But Jeremy Robson‘s thoughts on Fabio’s continued employment have just brought another smile to my face …
Fabio Capello is still the England coach. For now at least he remains in the employ of the FA. It’s hard to imagine what sort of conversations took place to reaffirm the Italian’s tenure.
The decision was taken by Trevor Brooking, Alex Horne (whoever he is), and the Club England (whatever that is) managing director Adrian Bevington (who ever he also might be).
Sir Dave Richards, whose track record in football includes overseeing the demise of one proud Sheffield Wednesday commented: “After fully discussing our performance we remain convinced that Fabio is the best man for the job.”
And Don Fabio himself? “Sir Dave Richards has called me to tell me that everyone at the FA wants me to continue. I explained it is very important we use this disappointment as a motivation in future,” he is quoted as saying.
“Disappointment” Dis-a-bloody-pointment? You would think that the debacle that shamed the nation was an April weekend in Bridlington, spoilt by sea fret and the occasional shower. Bloody disappointment!
“We won a couple of corners against the Germans,” said a positive Trevor Brooking. “Not only that but Wozza didn’t get caught offside that much against Algeria. He didn’t get sent off in any of the four games” added Bevington. “We went through the group undefeated, despite being up against some of the biggest names in world football,” said Sir Dave.
“Steve Cheruderlo, Abdelkader Laifauoi, Aleksander Radosavlejevic, and Milivoje Novakovi?, you mean?” asked Alex Horne.
“Ehemn, no Adrian, I meant the likes of the USA, Algeria and Slovenia, actually, and those are just long names, not really big names, Adrian!” replied Sir Dave. “Pass me that other bottle of gin. There’s a good chap!”
“We can’t sack him now. We’d look like a right set of wankers wouldn’t we Dave?” “Twelve million quid it would cost to get rid of the muppet, and who could we get in his place? Tell me that?” says Richards. “How about little Stevie Coppell? He’s a gurd laad,” drawls Trev, slurping his Gordons from the finest bone china.
“No boys, we’ll stick with him. He’s made us all look like twats for giving him another contract even though there’s a bloke that coaches Bletchley British Legion who could have done as well, for 60 quid a week, just so long as there’s black pudding on the bar on Sunday dinner time,” mutters Sir Dave as he slides off his chair. “Bloody fool didn’t even insist on the pickled onions. There would be even enough left in the budget for half a pound of cheddar at a push. We’re skint lads, completely skint. We can’t afford to get rid.”
“Let’s hope the News of the World catches him ‘dogging’,” groans Brooling. “Can we sack him if he shags Ulrika Jonsson? Let’s get her in,” shouts Trevor. “What’s her number. She won’t even insist on the black pudding!”