Body Talk

The Angle... usually concerns itself with the spoken clichés of football's protagonists but the 2010/11 season's rabid obsession with Fernando Torres's body language has turned attention to the non-verbal collection of textbook footballer mannerisms.

The Grimace

Other than genuine physical pain, there are two opportunities to grimace for the modern footballer. The first, and most common, grimace-inducer is a squandered goalscoring opening. Be it a gilt-edged opportunity or simply a real chance - but not an absolute sitter - the miss is often accompanied by something like this (hands-on-head optional):

The grimace in this situation is likely to be an expression of ruefulness, pre-empting the co-commentator's pondering over whether the chance-misser will "rue" the missed chance "later on". No other misdemeanour in football can be rued, it should be added. Non-goalscoring errors may cause the player/manager to "live to regret" them, though.

The second grimace in football is even more apologetic in nature. When a selfish striker opts to shoot from an impossible angle, with a teammate in a better position, his penance is expressed with a grimace similar to that above, plus a guilty palm of acceptance in the direction of the angry, snubbed colleague.

The Beleaguered Manager Clap

Time is running out for a team to save themselves in an important game, and the manager has run out of ideas. Having stood forlorn on the edge of his technical area, he remembers he has one more in his locker - the encouraging clap. Barrel successfully scraped, he crosses his arms once again, resigned to defeat. Let's call it The Avram.

The Unrepentant Trudge

When players are sent off, they seem unable to leave the pitch without slightly undressing themselves. This can range from the mere untucking of the shirt, via ripping off the captain's armband in disgust, to full (and unexplainable) upper-body nudity:

Real Concern

Despite the plague of playacting that is creeping into the modern game, it is still very clear when a player has suffered a serious injury. Assuming his leg hasn't suffered a very obvious Busst-esque redesign, the injured player must first signal his desperate plight - while cheating fakers roll, writh and perform triple Salchows, genuinely injured players lie prostrate except for a desperate arm in the air. At this point, no medical attention is allowed onto the field until at least half-a-dozen players display real concern (the more opposition players involved, the more real the concern) by waggling both wrists in the air in a frenzied come-hither gesture:

Checking For Blood

After a clash of heads, one or both of the victims are likely to be seen to pat the affected area and check their hand for any signs of blood. A reasonable enough act of self-preservation. Except, for some reason, it's always done about twelve times in quick succession. You're OK mate, honest. Stop checking.

Goal Kick Perfectionists

To the casual onlooker, a goal-kick remains one of the most rudimentary aspects of the modern game - a straightforward punt to get the ball back in play. Goalkeepers, possibly because they are so mad, are very much their own worst critics though. Just as TV prepares to cut away from the close-up shot of the 'keeper hoofing it down the pitch, every now and then you see a custodian chastise himself for a poor kick. No-one else seems to give a shit.

The Medium of Mime

The saturation of television football coverage is perhaps the reason for many of these mannerisms, none more so than appeals to the referee.

First up is a classic of the genre - claiming not to have heard the whistle when penalised for kicking the ball away. First, the player will nonchalantly point to his ear, confident that the referee will take no action. If the official takes action, more zealous pointing to the ear (or both ears, in extreme cases) may be necessary.

Cue video of a mystified Robin van Persie appealing to not just one referee, but around 90,000:

In its defence, this appeal often takes place in the roaring cauldrons of European football, where language barriers further warrant the need for visual aids.

A more comical, frivolous act of mime we see each week in our Anglophone domestic leagues is the ball-shape. To support his claim that he got at least some of the ball, the tackler will make a circular shape with both hands (more than once, if he really means it). As a general rule, the bigger the ball-shape he makes, the more convinced he is that he got the ball. Rather belatedly, this spectacle is being replaced by the rather more understandable grabbing of the actual ball, held out in a desperate plea to the referee to change his mind.

It's not clear why, where possible, the players cannot communicate these appeals verbally. It has even reached the point where the ridiculous, pantomime act of waving an imaginary card (which has now achieved an absurd level of taboo) is seemingly more of an offence than actually asking the referee to book a player.

"Where's the Talking?!"

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This is a piece about Sunday league football.

It will not make any reference to hangovers (Haha! Some of them go out the night before and are still drunk when they turn up!), fat players (LOL! They aren't professional athletes!) or crap pitches (ROFL! The public playing surface isn't completely flat and abundant with grass!)

English football, from top to bottom, has always been characterised by its intangible, unquantifiable (unless you count bags as suitable units of measurement) qualities of spirit, passion, grit, determination and, less notably, "talking".

Talking is easy. Not talking enough is generally agreed in Sunday league to be highly counter-productive. Players are urged before kick-off for "lots of talking", especially "back there". Not talking is an accusation that can only be levelled at a whole team (or at least its rearguard), rather than an individual (unless it is the captain, who must shout indiscriminately for ninety minutes, for that is his job.)

To avoid this indictment, a lexicon of largely useless phrases has emerged, which can be called upon whenever it is necessary to fill a period of relative silence. Everyone knows them, everyone understands what they are vaguely supposed to mean, and almost nobody questions them. Now, clichéd as they are, many bellowed phrases you hear on a football pitch - "Man on!", "Out we go!", etc - are useful instructions. Nothing wrong with those. The following set of on-pitch rallying cries, however, must not escape scrutiny:

1. "We've Gone Quiet"

Going quiet, as highlighted earlier, is the sign of a malfunctioning team. No-one is talking, which means we all might as well go home. A period of notable quietness is ended only when the captain draws everyone's attention to it: "Come on lads, we've gone quiet!". It can, at the shouter's discretion, be bookended with "...haven't we?", to offer the illusion of a debate where one is really not available.

Apart from functioning to actually end the quietness, this is accepted as an open invitation to call upon phrases 2-8 in this list.

2. "Straight In"

A staple instruction that can be used only at a very specific moment - namely, the opponents kicking off the game. "Run after the ball!", it demands, "Chase it when they kick it backwards!". Only the strikers need to, of course, and the moment quickly passes. Getting "straight in" is not a continuous requirement, but merely an opening gesture of intent, which is guaranteed to be unfulfilled.

Often accompanied by a mindless, yet somehow entirely appropriate-feeling, clap of the hands.

3. "Two On The Edge"

When a corner is awarded, it is everyone's job to pick up their man. One player has the added task of spotting a particular discrepancy in this complex marking system, in that there are two unattended opponents lumbering into the penalty area. In extreme circumstances, there may be "three on the edge" - an unthinkable catastrophe which is met with a suitably incredulous cry of "I've got three here!". The lack of concentration may be down to the defence's preoccupation with the big man, the tall (i.e. lanky) opposing centre-back/estate agent, who has arrived with a look of great purpose from the back.

4. "All Day"

An utterly irritating phrase (specifically designed to be so) used by smug opponents to declare your attacking efforts as weak and unlikely to succeed even if repeated. Often said twice in quick succession - as a speculative effort flies high, wide and [not at all] handsome - to compound the humiliation.

5. "It's Still 0-0"

Football is an overwhelmingly childish pursuit. Much of football supporting is based on schadenfreude and suffering the taunts, in return, when your own team is humbled.

To combat this threat, some employ an overly defensive stance, hoping that an audible absence of pride will pre-empt any possible fall. And so, if a Sunday team races into an early lead, one stern-faced, armband-toting try-hard will attempt to construct a parallel universe in which the game is, in fact, goalless. The job is not done, he says, a point he may return to when the final score is 7-4 or something similarly amateur.

6. "Box 'Em In!"

A cult classic, in my eyes. Satisfies two fundamental criteria: 1) A laughable attempt at tactical insight, and 2) Exclaimed almost instinctively, EVERY SINGLE TIME. The ball goes out for an opposition throw-in, deep in their final third, and it is universally accepted that they do not have the adequate technical skills (or simply the upper-body strength) to play/hurl their way to safety.

7. "[Shirt Colour] Head on This!"

Possibly the most pointless one of all. For the uninitiated, this cryptic command is for your teammates to meet an imminent opposition hoof with their head before the other lot can. No accuracy is required but congratulations are available for heading it really, really hard, straight back where it came from. "WELL UP!" you are told, with your name declared in full if the game is particularly tense. More forward-thinking Sunday league players concern themselves with the second ball, which is often simply another header. Third balls remain an untapped, bewildering resource, possibly due to Chaos Theory.

8. "Away!"

Loosely translated as "Now look here, teammate - I neither want nor trust you to play your way out of trouble. Please dispose of the ball as quickly and as far away as possible." Failure to do as directed leaves one open to castigation for "fannying about with it there". Professional footballers, it should be noted, do not officially fanny about but simply dally, hesitate or dwell on the ball.

Meanwhile, back on recreation grounds up and down the country, players might be allowed to fanny about if they are deemed to have an adequate amount of:

9. "Time!"

The ball drops from the air and a player finds himself in acres of space. Pointing this out to him might seem a good idea. It'll calm him down, allow him to get his head up and play a pass, rather than treat the ball like an unpinned grenade.

However, when ten other players scream "Time! Time!" in unison, it tends to have quite the opposite effect. The futility of the situation is laid bare when, after relinquishing possession easily, the player is offered a final, withering, retrospective observation.

"You had time."

10. "Where Was The Shout?"

The ultimate act of Sunday League buck-passing. A player is unceremoniously dispossessed from behind, to howls of derision from his teammates. Accompanied by a despairing flap of the arms, the player begs of his colleagues: "Where was the shout?"

There wasn't one.

Because they've gone quiet, haven't they?

Adam.
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The Eleventh Hour.

Yesterday saw the the transfer window slam shut and with it a cluster of clichés get trotted out. Players all over the country failed to do their ties up properly and practised their best “I didn’t want to leave XYZ but as soon as I heard ABC were in for me, it was an easy decision” rubbish. The loan system was put to good use, with a number of teams sending out their 17-year-olds for valuable first team experience to prepare them for the next twenty years of really needing first team football at this stage of their careers.

Sky Sports News get terribly excited on days such as this, with actual things happening that they can report on rather than endlessly looping mildly controversial incidents from four days ago. However, it was still not quite enough to prevent them from stating on their news ticker:

BREAKING NEWS: HARRY REDKNAPP THINKS JERMAIN DEFOE WILL BE A GOOD SIGNING

Well, fancy that - a manager trying to sign a player he thinks will do well. Although, this being Harry Redknapp, [this part of the sentence has been censored to ensure that Mr. Redknapp will still talk to us rather than have Tony Adams taking four hours to finish an interview].

Portsmouth signing Jermaine Defoe produced one of the finest examples of how ingrained the cliché has become in the discourse of modern football, giving rise to the first of an occasional series entitled Nonsensical Cliché of the Week.

“It’s a great opportunity to play football…”

Good start to the sentence there, a slight variation on the “at this stage of my career” theme.

“…I just want to play for Portsmouth and score as many goals as I can this season…”

Second point well made, you would think. Fans of Portsmouth must be pleased that their new £7 million striker plans to score as many goals as he can, because that, after all, is what he is there for.

However, as we are about to see, something goes off in Defoe’s mind - a flicker of recognition of a lesson he had in “Media Training” at Charlton Athletic's academy, possibly called “Lies to Tell Towards The End of Interviews“

"…but what’s important is the three points.”

This obvious lie, developed at the Shearer Institute for Inane Comments, was designed to perpetuate the myth that strikers aren’t selfish and don’t really care about scoring.

So deeply ingrained is this in the minds of footballer that they trot it out even when, as in Defoe's case, there aren’t even any specific three points at stake – unless of course their new signing expects Portsmouth to gain a mere 3 more points between now and May.

Now that would be interesting.

Coxie.

A Cluster of Clichés

The animal world enjoys an innumerable complement of collective nouns, ranging from the wonderfully alliterative to the impenetrably obscure. You may not be surprised to learn that football has quite a few of its own.

For reasons of sensationalism, laziness, inaccuracy or diversity, football coverage has demanded that a selection of collective nouns be made available, to be drawn from whenever appropriate. The list covers all aspects of the game, and leaves us in no doubt (despite the lack of cold, hard numbers) of the plurality of the objects or subjects in question:

Raft of substitutions - The sole domain of meaningless international friendlies, where the second half becomes fragmented by the experimentation of both managers, seeking to give debuts to one-cap wonders. Games are also seen to lose their shape and tempo.

Host of opportunities - Hosts tend to be fairly negative-sounding collections, consisting of missed opportunities or absentees from the first team.

String of chances - Chances can come in strings, as can a goalkeeper's saves or a player's impressive performances. Deviating slightly from the grammatical theme, teams will also aim to string some wins together.

Brace - A pair of goals, although simply the word "brace" is sufficient, as nothing else football-related arrives in the form of a brace. Braces are often quickfire in nature, and often leave the scorer vulnerable to be substituted before he can complete his hat-trick.

Flurry of yellow cards - Card-happy referees can sometimes end a barren first half-hour or so by unleashing a flurry of yellow cards in quick succession. They will often seek to justify this sudden outburst of disciplinarianism by pointing out various areas of the pitch to bemused perpetrators of persistent fouling.

Hatful of chances - A more flagrant exaggeration, used to ridicule the overpriced striker that has missed these chances, some of which may have been gilt-edged. One of the more imprecise units of measurement in football, as there seems to be no official confirmation regarding the volume of an average hat.

Run of victories - Similar to a string of wins, but tends to be more smoothly and less desperately achieved. High-flying sides aim to embark on an amazing run of victories as they march towards the title.

Array of talent - Most commonly found at major tournaments, but can also arrive on a club's youthful conveyor belt.

Mass of bodies - Generally found at the centre of an almighty penalty-area scramble, a mass of bodies can be the reason for a statuesque goalkeeper being unsighted, as a strike from all of 30 yards flies past him.

Embarrassment of riches - To further emphasise the options a manager has at his disposal, the cumulative international caps and transfer fees of his substitutes are often stated to illustrate his embarrassment of riches. The Big Four, for example, are not averse to turning to the millions of pounds' worth of talent sitting on the bench to spare their blushes in a Carling Cup tie.

Galaxy of stars - A rather naff alternative to the rather more understated array of talent, a galaxy of stars is often presented in contrast to the part-time bunch of journeymen they may be facing in a fairytale FA Cup tie.

Glut of goals - A goal glut can occur in a specific competition, particularly a weekend of league fixtures in a certain division. We will be told how many goals flew in in the dozen or so matches, leaving us to do the maths ourselves to decide if that is actually impressive or not.

Catalogue of errors - The media are always on hand to collate previous errors by an individual, if they sense that a catalogue of errors is emerging. Alternatively, unfortunate players may wish to browse a catalogue of injuries.

Series of high-profile gaffes - A more focused and specific offshoot of the catalogue of errors, a series of high-profile gaffes tends to be more easily attributed to goalkeepers, as the likes of Paul Robinson, David James and Fabien Barthez have all found to their cost in recent years. The series of high-profile gaffes becomes so because Sky Sports News insist in endlessly looping footage of its contents. The result for the victim is often the axe.

Swarm of [insert colour here] shirts - Sides that like to get the ball down and play have an equally established dislike of being denied space. The gameplan of their successful opponents may have been to close them down, snap at their heels and ultimately squeeze the game. Commentators will note the swarm of opposition shirts that descend upon a player if he happens to find time on the ball.

Adam.

Mansfield v Middlesbrough: A Case Study of Cliché

Some casual, unstructured observations from today's FA Cup game between Mansfield Town and Middlesbrough, live on the BBC. I'll try and avoid addressing the usual Cup clichés, as that would, in turn, be an act of cliché in itself:

2 mins - Martin Keown, today's co-commentator, contends that the "swirling wind" will be a problem for the Midlesbrough defence. Therefore, watch out for a plucky Mansfield defender getting caught out by the swirling wind at some point.

5 mins - BBC coverage of a lower-league side hosting an FA Cup match is not complete without some young scamps (probably on the Beeb playroll for the afternoon) clambering up a tree outside the ground. This will, whatever its position, be described by the tradition-struck commentator as "the best seat in the house".

7 mins - David Wheater, apparently, has impressed this season. Why? The young, English, homegrown local lad has scored FOUR goals this season, making him the club's joint-top scorer. Oh, right. He can't manage to stop his side conceding to drag them away from the dropzone, but he has scored 4 goals. That's what he's in the side for, obviously.

This is typical. No defending can really catch the eye of any pundits, but a couple of goals will always be conspicuous for a defender. Furthermore, as soon as one media outlet describes him as "having an outstanding season", others will blindly follow.

My advice to any young defender would be to go up for a few corners. Get lucky at some set-pieces, and the media will be all over you.

17 mins - In a massive turn-up for the books, Mansfield's bright start has been followed by a straightforward Middlesbrough goal, caused by the Mansfield defence getting caught out by the swirling wind. The opener is "barely deserved", of course, because Mansfield have had a couple of corners at the other end.

25 mins - Robert Huth is booked for clearing the ball and following through on Michael Boulding's midriff. Cue horrified yelps from the commentators, convinced that a red card should have been issued. You wonder, if a Mansfield player had done the same, if the incident would have been dismissed as "clumsy". But no, Huth's foot "cut Michael Boulding in two".

47 mins - The second half begins with another bright start by Mansfield. A couple of corners brings about an "air of belief" at Field Mill.

60 mins - Mansfield embark on a "magnificent spell" of two corners and zero shots on goal.

73 mins - Martin Keown shares a joke with the commentator about the size of the latter's car. The nation can breathe a sigh of relief as it collectively ticks the box marked "Self-Deprecatory Joke between Commentators".

81 mins - Gareth Southgate demonstrates the modern skill common amongst aspirational, young English managers - standing up from the bench and clapping earnestly towards one or more of his players.

84 mins - A Mansfield defender commits an "understandable" foul, to go with the home side's "unfortunate" individual errors and under-hit set-pieces, which have been "a shame".

86 mins - Mansfield score an own-goal. "Cruel".

Adam.

Between the Axe and the Unveiling, Speculation Doth Mount.

Until Kevin Keegan's clearly absurd appointment yesterday, Sky Sports News had dedicated itself to Newcastle's continued search for a depressingly and inevitably short-lived replacement for the previous depressingly short-lived incumbent. Managers up and down the country (Harry Redknapp, Mark Hughes, and, erm, Roberto Martinez), an effectively-retired manager who wouldn't be able to handle it (Keegan) and the vastly inexperienced man who seemed to be simultaneously both the ideal and the utterly disastrous choice (Alan Shearer) all faced the monotonous media barrage of speculation and rumour over their respective futures.

The texts and emails into the studio (who bothers to do this? Why?!) were dominated by Newcastle fans clamouring for a dual appointment of Shearer and Keegan, on the basis that they "are Newcastle through and through", and so on. The ongoing myth that Newcastle fans are more passionate than any other set of supporters (they do, apparently, love their football in those parts) and therefore "deserve success" is, of course, preposterous. But not preposterous enough to avoid being repeated mindlessly by the Football Focus and Soccer Saturday regulars.

The rapidly increasing frequency of managerial axeings (combined with the rapidly decreasing levels of patience of club owners) means football fans should be well-versed in the manager's art of facing mounting speculation. The various candidates, earmarked by the media as potential suitors for the veritably toxic chalice that is the St James' Park hotseat, provided the full range of nauseatingly generic responses to growing reports. The Angle... has collated these pathetic, regurgitated attempts to fob off the media and presents the:

Fig 1.0 - The Sky Sports News Speculatrum

The Speculatrum is by no means intended to be used as a indication of the likelihood of any end result from a certain level of speculation, but as simply a guide to the various methods that a manager can employ to deal with the nosey Sky Sports News reporter camped outside the gates of his home or training ground.

The Speculatrum ranges from the most solid rebuttal of media rumours (the upper red region) to the most flimsy wafting away of the mounting reports (yellow/green), before eventually reaching the stage where the candidate in question is reported to be "mulling over" an offer from the desperate club.
Ruled himself out - In theory at least, this is the most unequivocal response to media speculation. Gerard Houllier was among those who effectively ruled themselves out of the running for the Newcastle job.

Poured scorn on speculation - A delightful turn of phrase. The act of scorn-pouring can be performed not only by managers linked to a position, but also the chairmen of the clubs involved. Interestingly, Newcastle poured scorn on reports that Sam Allardyce only had six games to save his job.

Called for an end to speculation - A good indication that the manager in question is getting distinctly sick and tired of the media whispers regarding his future. Recently, Rafael Benitez desperately called for an end to speculation that he was to leave Liverpool. This, as with any other example of this request, will be universally ignored.

Scotched rumours - To scotch, the dictionary says, is to "bring an abrupt end to" something. Useful for nipping in the bud more unlikely rumours like, say, Kevin Keegan coming out of the managerial wilderness to rejoin Newcastle.
Quashed rumours - A similar act to scotching, although this one is apparently borrowed from media coverage of the legal system.

Dismissed reports - A club or organisation may take it upon themselves to further echo a manager's negative reaction to speculation by dismissing reports. The French FA were quick to dismiss reports that Houllier was bound for the St James' Park hotseat.

Rubbished reports - Clearly a more suitably casual rebuttal to more outlandish rumours. Such rumours will also be referred to as "utter nonsense" or "pure fantasy".
Quelled speculation - Reserved for more negative speculation. Clubs may need to quell fears that a player may miss the rest of the season with an injury.

Laughed off rumours - Rumours of audacious or cheeky bids can be easily laughed off in jovial press conferences.

Flattered by speculation - Used either to patronise the interest from a club which the manager would never dream of stopping low enough to join or, conversely, to acknowledge rumours linking them with a club they wouldn't have a cat in hell's chance of being considered by. Swansea's Roberto Martinez fell firmly into the latter camp when he talked of how flattering it was to be linked with the Newcastle job.

Distanced themselves from speculation - It is at this point we begin to move into the murky realms of non-committal. When a manager distances himself from speculation linking him with a move to another club, it means he is simultaneously - and stealthily - issuing a hands-off warning and a come-and-get-me plea to the managerless club.

You may interpret the following quote from Mark Hughes, regarding the recent Newcastle vacancy, as a perfect example of this particularly flexible reaction to speculation:

"I have not spoken to anyone from Newcastle, I spoke to my chairman last night
and he has had no contact, and I don’t think there will be any contact.

Not "commenting on something that has nothing to do with" them - An old classic, which is becoming less and less trusted with every transfer saga or managerial axe. Knowing that they have now sown the seeds, possibly by the facade of distancing themselves from speculation, the manager can now put his innocent face on and refuse to "comment on something that has nothing to do with" him. Mark Hughes tried this trick as well.

Alternatively, managers may attempt to avoid talking directly about the vacancy by mumbling something about not wanting to comment on "hypothetical situations". Yep, Mark Hughes had a crack at this one, too...

Refused to rule himself out - Edging closer to a tacit admission of interest in the job of the moment, a manager will now refuse to rule himself out of the running. This is usually accompanied with one of those eternally infuriating get-out clauses that only football could produce - asserting that, "in football, you never say never". Quite why the likes of Geoff Shreeves cannot manoeuvre their pre- or post-match interview technique around this clumsy attempt at coyness is beyond logic.

Refused to confirm or deny reports - The final pretence. At this point, managers can go rather quiet, leaving Sky Sports News to feed on a five-second video loop of them leaving the training ground and waving at the camera as they speed off. Newspapers rest assured that their scattergun approach is no longer required, so they can stop tapping up not-at-all-imaginary close pals, insiders and club sources.

Fuelled speculation - A manager can fuel speculation simply by entering any retail premises in the surrounding area of a club searching for a new manager, sparking whispers on internet forums that David O'Leary has been spotted in a Middlesbrough branch of Foxtons or that

Sam Allardyce has been seen devouring a sandwich in a motorway service station in the rough vicinity of the Reebok Stadium.

Thrown hat into the ring - It is routinely the task for the interim caretaker manager to take it upon himself to unconvincingly throw his hat into the ring for the vacant spot. Usually thrust into the spotlight temporarily, after bravely stepping out of the shadows of their role as No. 2, the caretaker manager never has any real chance of being offered the job - especially after a couple of capitulations in their few games in charge. These are conveniently forgotten when the new, proper manager takes over.

Finally, the candidate that flirted with the mounting speculation all along is chosen, and they are reported to be mulling over an offer. A brief period of mulling is sufficient before they are unveiled and paraded in front of their expectant new fans. Talk of funds being made available - possibly enough to fill a warchest - ensues, but the supporters should no longer expect him to hit the ground running in his first game in charge. The cruel Gods of football fate cottoned on to this trick a while ago, after Premiership chairmen started firing managers every other week in the hope that the replacements would automatically win their first game in charge. A 1-1 draw is generally considered acceptable nowadays, particularly for a side that can sit back and relax in its new status as a side in transition.

Being in transition is effectively the pure football equivalent of going into administration - you can kiss goodbye to around 10 points straight away, but it gives you a bit of breathing space.

Until, that is, the mutually-consentual axe falls once more.

Adam.

The Managerial Merry-Go-Round: Winter 2007 Edition

As chairmen up and down the country succumb to peer pressure and begin sacking their managers, the Managerial Merry-Go-Round (MMGR) steps up a gear. Far enough into the season for clubs to have had a "disappointing run of results", yet early enough for supremos to "act now, in the best interests of the football club", we are in prime hunting season. Unemployed managers with patchy CVs are placed on red alert as vacancies appear at struggling clubs, while desperate chairmen draw up shortlists to find "the right man" for the second time in six months. Meanwhile, bookmakers close their betting as speculation mounts over possible replacements.

The Angle... presents the third edition of the MMGR:

• David O'Leary - Arguably now the new holder of George Graham's former position as chief resident of the MMGR, O'Leary is now sniffing around the Republic of Ireland job. With the requirements of an international manager even more of a mystery than a club boss, O'Leary stands a very good chance.

• Stuart Pearce - Currently occupying the most cushty of managerial positions - England Under-21s, where it's all about the performance, not the result and where absolutely nobody cares if they win or not. May well eventually be selected as the right man at a struggling Premier League club who need an injection of fighting spirit, grit and determination.
  

• Paul Jewell - Having taken a break for several months, Jewell is presumably now itching to get back into the game. Now being linked with a return to Wigan, which would contravene an unwritten rule of football - never go back.

• Chris Coleman - Fairly likely to be quietly ushered out of the historically revolving door at Real Sociedad when he fails to gain promotion back to La Liga, Coleman will return to these shores with his managerial reputation inexplicably replenished. The pitiful number of British players and managers plying their trade on the Continent means that those who do are immediately assumed to be far more talented than they are, regardless of how utterly average they may have been in the first place.
  

• Steve Cotterill - A classic example of a tough-talking young English manager who has turned out to be a complete no-mark. After not proving himself in the slightest at Stoke City and hilariously failing to keep Sunderland afloat in the Premiership alongside Howard Wilkinson in 2003, Cotterill recently left Burnley by mutual consent. Will hopefully be bringing his brand of overeager touchline finger-pointing to a lower division side in his next role.
  

• Graeme Souness - Having rapidly lost his only managerial quality - pure terror - Souness may have to make do with becoming the new George Graham for football broadcasting purposes, only without the successful managerial career behind him. Will quite simply not succeed in any managerial position he happens to land. Also perhaps O'Leary's main challenger for MMGR longevity in the future.
  

• Martin Jol - The amiable Dutchman will find it very difficult to shake off his reputation as quite a nice bloke who suffered the ruthless axe from his previous club, despite being popular with most football fans. Jol is quite clearly, therefore, the new Claudio Ranieri.
  

• Gary Megson - The Angle... try our best to keep up to date. To help us achieve this, we occasionally take the plunge and bravely assume some things are probably going to happen anyway. This is not one of those occasions, however, as we are actually quite certain of Megson's future demise at Bolton. The MMGR may as well have a seat made with Megson's face depicted on the front, especially for him. Doomed.
  

• Martin Allen - Another young English manager who appears to be allowed to prioritise humorous interview quips over actual managerial prowess (see also Holloway, Ian), Allen undid any supposedly promising work at Brentford and MK Dons by getting himself employed by Leicester City.

• Peter Reid - Considered in the last edition to be disappearing from view, Reid seemingly wants to supplement the wages Leeds United are probably still paying him - although the only signs of his potential return are being linked to the Leicester job, reportedly part of an enticing shortlist alongside Graeme Souness and fellow MMGR veteran Joe Royle. Speaking of whom...

• Joe Royle - Last seen dusting down his copy of The Idiot's Guide to a Relegation Battle in preparation for his interview with Milan Mandaric at the Walkers Stadium.

• Chris Hutchings/Sammy Lee - Those pesky No. 2s just won't give up, will they? Before reverting to their natural role as conemen, these two will get one more bite at the managerial cherry - possibly at a Championship club that is allegedly geared towards Premier League football.

• John Gregory - Ah, yes. Not quite ready to untuck those tracksuit bottoms from his socks just yet, Gregory will surely attempt to gain employment at yet another club he visited during his journeyman playing career. In which case, that list now leaves Northampton Town or Brighton to be ticked off/left to pick up the pieces. On the other hand, perhaps Gregory has realised that being a former fans' favourite means bugger all when you try and inflict your managership upon them.

The MMGR rolls on...

Adam.