Poor old Ashley Cole. These days it seems like he's either rolling out the carpet for opposition wingers, or he's getting injured. If it wasn't all his money and the fact he did the dirty on Cheryl, you could almost feel sorry for him. But you can't. He's bit like Frank Lampard in that respect.
But the painful truth is this. 'Our Ash' is still the best left-back in England and we desperately need him at full power for the World Cup next summer.
As for the right-back spot, I think yours truly could be in with a shout. Glen Johnson's injured, Gary Neville looks about 45, Micah Richards is all over the place, and Luke Young clearly didn't fancy it.
Me and the boys reckon there's something going on with English full-backs. Maybe they get picked on when the team get together, and all slowly go mad.
Remember when you played football at school, there were two basic rules. The worst player, normally the fat kid, always goes in goal. That's unless somebody decent is injured, then they get the gloves and the fat kid referees.
But then you had the crazy kids. The ones who could tackle like maniacs, run about like a nutter and kick the ball a long way if they got really angry.
Stick them in the middle and they'd be a liability. Stick them up front and they'd spend the whole match offside. Stick them on the wing and they'd never stay there. So where do you stick them? Full-back. There's a lesson in there somewhere.
Back to proper football. We lost 6-2 on Sunday, got absolutely butchered by a bunch of wiley old-timers from the Post Office. Dolphin reckons they called that strike to get extra practice in and he might have a point.
They call him Dolphin because his mouth clicks when he talks. He's nowhere near as bright as a Dolphin mind.
Much love, Bazza
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