Happy new year football.co.uk readers. I trust you're all a few pounds closer to Micky Quinn after the Christmas eating, and a lot of pounds closer to Portsmouth's bank balance after the Christmas spend-up.
As for Barry, I was on the other side of the lake. Or is it the pond? Anyhow, me and the missus went to the land of Beckhams and had a right good knees-up with the Americanos.
While we were over there, lots of people asked me about King Becks. Sometimes it was the first thing they said. "Hey, are you from England. Like, where David Beckham is from. You must love soccer. And tea. And beer. And the Beatles."
"That's a bit racist thank you very much Mr Americano," I'd think to myself. But to be fair, they'd read me like Franco Baresi. I love soccer, tea and beer. Sometimes all at the same time. And them Beatles ain't bad either.
But the really interesting bit is how they see Becks. Everybody knows who he is. And everybody knows he plays for LA Galaxy. But some Americans assume he's the greatest soccer player in the world.
"I guess you guys are really missing him over there," they'll say. "It's like when Pele came over."
Of course we all know Becks ain't in the same class as Pele, or Besty or Maradona. As a player he's got less in his locker than Stevie G, Roons and even Fat Frankie Lampard, but that's why we love him.
Me and the boys watched the Milan v Genoa game down the boozer full of pride that Becks was out there. For 76 minutes we admired those trademark curling crosses, free-kicks and slapped long-range benders. It's like watching a PlayStation player. You know exactly what's coming.
It was a classic Becks performance. A few telling passes and a lot of scurrying around. The papers have said it would have impressed Fabio Capello, but I don't think Becks has anything left to say on the pitch.
He does what it says on the tin. And England can use as many players like that as possible in South Africa. A fella who's made the absolute most of what was given to him.
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Nag's Head might not play at the Emirates, but we at least have the decency to tell other teams when the game's off.
On Sunday, Groundsman Gil called in at 5.30am to let the oppo know the pitch was frozen. That gave them plenty of time to re-group and probably plan a good-old Leo Sayer in the boozer.
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