A Sticker's Worth 500 Words

Today Richard Allinson takes a look at a midfield stalwart who embodied the greatest era of football, the 1990s, simply through his era-defining haircut . His longevity at the top level provided us with a number of options in terms of stickers and cards but Rich and I agreed this one best demonstrated his most important asset. Over to Rich to actually talk about football for a bit. There are certain footballers that could only exist in the 1990s. Not because of their ability or style of play, but because of their haircut. No one epitomises this more so than Garry Flitcroft. His hair-do was a part mushroom/part pudding bowl/part curtains undercut delight. Stick him in some NAF-NAF jeans and a pair of Kickers and he’d have fit right in at any middle school dress-down day across the land.  His haircut was at its peak during his days at Manchester City, the club with which he made his name. He came through the ranks with the Citizens (I refuse to use the silly Cityzens spelling, sorry) bre

During the War of 1812 the British Empire’s forces were indebted to the Iroquois people of North America in their successful defence of what was then known as Upper Canada from the USA. The ability of the indigenous soldiers to march up to fifty miles a day and their knowledge of the terrain that had been their homelands for millennia more than compensated for Britain’s numerical disadvantage owing to the ongoing Napoleonic Wars and they were instrumental in the pivotal victory at Queenston Heights. The Iroquois Confederacy was composed of the people of the Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga, Seneca, Tuscarora and Mohawk tribes and known by the British as the Six Nations long before Italy were being added to a longstanding rugby tournament. Many of the male Iroquoian warriors could be recognised by their distinctive hairstyle where all but a central tuft of hair was plucked away. Although, through various reprehensible conquests and policies, the Mohawk people now only number around 28,000 acros

Today Richard Allinson brings us a look at a left field sporting crossover which has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he wrote it during this year’s Six Nations. There is a lot that both footballing codes could learn from each other but I will hand over to Rich before I turn into one of those blokes in the pub talking about “thugs’ games played by gentlemen”. When Jonny Wilkinson knocked over a drop-goal with 26 seconds left on the clock to seal England’s 20-17 victory over Australia in the 2003 Rugby Union World Cup Final, I don’t think anyone could’ve predicted that only two years later his manager Clive Woodward would be entering the world of professional football.  Rumours about a change of sport started only twelve months after Wilkinson made me spill a pint of Guinness all over myself and, as Woodward was a friend of Southampton chairman Rupert Lowe, the south coast seemed the likeliest destination for this unlikeliest of moves. And so it was that in July 2005, Sir Cli

We’re taking on a request post today for another football nostalgia fan in the form of ShootingStars ’ Rob. If you’re not already following his excellent page on Twitter you should rectify that for a daily dose of niche cards and blasts from the past. Today’s subject was in part selected due to the exceptional Liverpool kit he is donning but also because he sometimes flies under the radar despite his key role in the Reds’ domestic success in the 1989/90 season. We hope this does the job for you Rob. Apologies also to our friends at HTO Football for the delay with this one. On the way back from his brother’s wedding in Barbados in August 2001 the former boxer Nigel Benn was chatting to some staff at Gatwick Airport when an opportunistic thief attempted to make away with his luggage. Benn sprinted after the culprit and, in the words of Sussex police, “made a citizen’s arrest” by sitting on the bag snatcher. Once the authorities had taken away their man Benn went back to his business an

Today Richard Allinson takes a look at those all-important moments just before kick off when players go through their final mental and physical preparations for the following ninety minutes. As a Catholic I always find it interesting to see players making the sign of the cross before stepping on to the pitch, especially when more than one player from each side does so. Both sides can’t win after all so whom will God bestow his favour upon? Perhaps this explains the proclivity of draws under Patrick Vieira at Crystal Palace. Over to Rich. When I was a young lad my pre-match ritual was rushing to get in my dad’s car because I’d overslept having stayed up way too late watching Match of the Day the night before; when I was a teenager my pre-match ritual was rushing around because I could only find one of my goalkeeper gloves; when I was in my twenties my pre-match ritual was rushing to the five-a-side pitch because I’d invariably got the kick off time wrong. These pale into insignificanc