A Sticker's Worth 500 Words

Today Emlyn Jones takes a look at a man who played a pivotal role in Reading’s rise, fall and rise again to the Premier League in the twenty-first century without necessarily receiving the praise he deserved. He didn’t get the glamour move to Chelsea granted to his midfield partner. He didn’t turn out to (probably) be The Secret Footballer. He didn’t even get caught on camera enjoying himself in the toilets of the local branch of Revolution. Sometimes just being a tireless worker is enough to win the hearts and minds. Over to Emlyn. Most clubs have an unsung hero; someone who always puts a shift in, never plays below 6 out of 10 , or is willing to play anywhere across the pitch. They're rarely the first name to come to mind when describing your team, yet the subject of today's blog played 142 games over eight years for Reading, all of them in the top two divisions – hardly a footnote. Brynjar Gunnarsson began his career in his native Iceland, playing three seasons with his home

Today is our first Twitterversary and to celebrate we thought we’d subject you all to another collaborative post. Once again we’ve decided to go with some metaphorical yeast extract but this time we’ve gone into the dugout rather than the middle of the park/Strictly ballroom/punditry studio. In 2004 the ever patient Roman Abramovich dispensed with the services of the avuncular Claudio Ranieri and replaced him with the brash, combative and handsome Portuguese upstart who had led Porto to Champion’s League glory the following season. Seventeen years and six clubs later Jose Mourinho is still doing Jose Mourinho things albeit currently at the Job Centre. For the three of us yet to see our clubs managed by The Special One there’s a lot of admiration and amusement which you can enjoy below (as well as the mental imagery of the man himself and a substitute goalkeeper taking the roles of Danny and Sandy from Grease). However, for Mat Jolin-Beech one thinly veiled comparison to another chatty

Today Richard Allinson looks at an icon of English football whose achievements are so impressive that not only did Rich have to reconsider his initial approach for this post but he also doesn’t even mention Grimsby Town. He also doesn’t mention the time today’s subject tried to kick Neil Lennon’s face off and didn’t even get a booking. What a time to be alive. Over to Rich. When I sat down to write this post the intention was that it was going to be about the joy of goal celebrations. However, on starting my research I couldn’t help think that ol’ Mr Raised Arm warranted a blog post all for himself, so here we go with a look at Alan Shearer.  Let’s start with his career stats: He scored 321 goals and created 78 others in 569 appearances for Southampton, Blackburn Rovers and Newcastle United. That means on average (if my C grade GCSE maths is correct) he contributed to a goal in every 1.42 games, which is absolutely bonkers, especially considering he played at the top level for 18 years

By the age of 24, apart from four years away at university, I had not only lived in the same area of Lewisham my entire life but the same house. When I finally flew the nest and moved in with my now wife we found a decidedly ropey flat in Leyton and it was a culture shock on a number of levels. Perhaps the alarm bells should have been ringing when the estate agent offered us discounted rent if we were willing to do a bit of painting and cleaning. They were definitely set off when the drains flooded after two days living there thanks to the previous tenant bunging an entire bog roll down the pan as a leaving present. We only lived there a year, partly thanks to the landlord selling from beneath us, but it will always be our first home together and I will always have a soft spot for our neighbours from across the High Road: the Mighty O’s. Our year living in Leyton coincided with a brilliant season for Orient as they finished third in League One behind a resurgent Wolverhampton Wanderers

Today Richard Allinson highlights the merits of supporting your local or family team no matter what and the joys that the occasional cup run can bring when you follow someone outside of ‘The Big Six’. When discussing Rich’s devotion to Grimsby Town with me Mrs Allinson excused my similar fanaticism for Crystal Palace by saying “at least they’re a proper team in the Premiership”. I felt obliged to point out that this was a team that had a game delayed by an hour back in 2004 because a light breeze nearly blew the roof off of our Main Stand. Moreover, as today’s post proves, the Mariners were always destined to win the/a cup someday. Over to Rich. “Supporting Grimsby Town isn’t easy, but it is character building. Basically, they’re a good life lesson in disappointment. They essentially never win anything but on those rare occasions when they do, it is worth more than winning all the time. Do you know what I mean?” This was the rationale I led with when explaining to my wife the reason wh

On a family holiday to Norfolk in 1995 I spotted an advert in a newsagent window announcing open trials for the mighty Norwich City. I thought, only one season into my time with Lewisham Youth, it might be a bit too early for me but I pointed it out to my old man just in case. After all this was a man who, as player-manager, had masterminded Chelsea School of Art’s famous victory over the Royal College and had demonstrated his impressive ball control and passing ability on numerous occasions in the local park. Also having a dad as a professional footballer would open doors for me and allow us to establish a sporting dynasty to rival the Gudjohnsens and Lampards. Sadly my Dad laughed at my suggestion and pointed out that, at 42, he was probably a bit too old. Despite coming down from the Premier League that summer the Canaries struggled in Division One and finished in a disappointing sixteenth. My old man could have at least provided competition for Robert Ullathorne in the left back

Today Richard Allinson has a look at an exceptional footballer who lit up the Premier League in its formative years and was unplayable on his day. We need to say thanks to the brilliant bar staff at the Football Tavern on Twitter for this suggestion and it kind of came as a surprise that none of us had written anything about him already. The mere mention of this wing wizard brought back bad memories for Oldham Athletic fans who suffered the double heartbreak of a late Mark Hughes equaliser in an FA Cup semi-final and the return of today’s subject from suspension for the replay which finished 4-1 to the Red Devils. Sorry to bring it up again. Over to Rich. “Schmeichel, Parker, Pallister! Irwin, Bruce , Sharpe and Ince! Hughes, McClair, Keane and Cantona ! Robson, Kanchelskis and Giggs... DA NA NAA, DA NA NAA!” In 1994, Status Quo spent two weeks at the top of the UK charts with ‘Come On You Reds’, their power-pop FA Cup final song for Manchester United. My middle school team decided t

Today we celebrate our 150th post which serves as testament to both the endless storytelling potential that football provides and the extent of achievable activities when you’ve spent over a year in some form of lockdown. We’d like to say thanks to anyone who has read, liked, shared or disagreed with any of our posts and treat you to a collaborative effort from all four of us. For our fiftieth post we chose teams from our previous work. To celebrate our century we got the lovely people at No Score Draws to immortalise us. This time we’ve decided to focus on a player who takes the Marmite metaphor to new levels. Love him, hate him or really hate him you’ll have an opinion on today’s subject. Here’s four more to add to the mix starting with Mat Jolin-Beech. The Class of ’92. This is the best know crop of young players ever to emerge in the game we love. Some will argue for the Busby Babes but they emerged a few decades before I was born so I can’t really comment. But back to ‘Fergie’s

The first football team photo is believed to be one of a Sheffield representative eleven taken ahead of an exhibition match against a similarly cobbled together side from Birmingham in 1875. The picture was part of a wider publicity campaign for the fundraising event in aid of the fantastically named Sheffield Football Players Accident Society and featured in The Sheffield Portrait Gallery, a journal of literature, criticism and satire apparently, ahead of the game. The appropriately moustachioed and capped gentlemen of Sheffield ran out 6-0 winners and perhaps it was their sporting prowess that attracted two rather smart looking ladies to sneak into the photograph with them. Hopefully there weren’t any subsequent disagreements between the two forcing a Mrs Constance Rooney to launch a campaign of explosive journalism in the Yorkshire Post against her former companion Lady Rosemary Vardy . The team photo became a huge part of football culture with sides using them as a vehicle for a va