Crawley go up but their reputation has never been so low.

Normally, when a non-league side wins promotion to the Football League, a lot of people will be pleased for them. Not in the case of Crawley Town, however.

The Red Devils secured their place in the League's 92 clubs, yesterday, for the first time in their history and the West Sussex club will have undoubtedly partied the night away in celebration. Many fans of other clubs, however, may well be wishing that their hangovers are lengthy and painful ones.

Not that many people begrudge any long serving fans their shot at the big-time; the negative reaction - to their otherwise admirable season - will be directed at the way the club have operated and one man in particular: Steve Evans.

Before we get to Evans, though, lets look at the main reason for Crawley's wonder season: money.

The green stuff is painfully sparse in the lower echelons of both the Football League and, especially, the non-league system. Clubs are going bust left, right and centre; either through their own misadventure, dodgy owners or just plain lack of revenue. Not that you'd guess this at the Broadfield Stadium.

The newly-crowned Blue Square Bet Premier champions averaged gates barely over 1000 before this season yet still managed to throw more cash around than most League 1 and 2 clubs, thanks to their mystery backers.

The Red Devils threw around sums around and beyond the region of £100k for players with alarming regularity and seemingly gay abandon.

Is a striker who, two seasons ago, couldn't get a look-in in a mid-table Conference side and only had one-and-a-half good seasons under his belt worth £275k? Crawley apparently thought so when they signed Richard Brodie from fellow BSBP side York City.

Two-hundred-and-seventy-five THOUSAND pounds for a transfer between two NON-LEAGUE clubs. Just think about that, for a minute. Think how many Football League clubs can make transfer dealings of that size, let alone Crawley's non-league counterparts.

No-one else had a hope in hell when they could be blown out of the water so easily. They were Rosie and Jim's Ragdoll boat to Crawley's Bismark.

When you look at it like this, Crawley's promotion isn't well earned. It's expected. It's been bought. Bought by people whose identity still remains unclear.

Of course, when you think of money, you think of crooks.

Totally unrelated to the previous statement, it's about time we got back to Steve Evans.

His supporters - of which there are probably about 5 - will tell you that he is one of the game's 'characters'. What they won't tell you, however, is that the word 'character', when used in relation to a football personality, is usually interchangeable with the phrase 'gobby reprobate'.

In  this case, then, Evans is, indeed, one of the biggest 'characters' in football.

The brash Scotsman is never afraid to sound off and is, admittedly, a talented manager. He is always active on his touchline and his teams do know how to get results. He is also more than adept at being able to rub people up the wrong way.

Among the hoards of people he has managed to rile are the bods at HM Revenue and Customs. In 2006 Evans was convicted for being part of a £245k tax fraud, at former club Boston United; an episode that ended up seeing Boston plummet from League 2, down through the upper-tiers of non-league.

He was hit with a 12-month prison sentence, suspended for two years for the aforementioned fraud. Given this conviction, then, it is amazing that Evans was allowed to be near a position of power in a football club again, let alone one with as much loose change and as secretive owners as Crawley Town.

So, yes, it is wonderful that Crawley's die-hard fans have had such a wonderful season, but don't expect too many letters of congratulations. As a few Scousers once sang: money can't buy you love.

Remember when Arsenal...

...were solid at the back? Usually I like to use that question as a joke regarding a team or player out of form (eg. remember when Wolves could keep a clean sheet, remember when Torres was good), but Arsenal being shakier than a jelly on a washing machine has been an issue for much too long to be a mere blip.

They've had the odd decent defender in recent years, but the real focus of their instability has been between the sticks. Arsene Wenger has been their manager since September 1996, and in those 14 and a half years I honestly can't name a single genuinely dependable goalkeeper they've signed.

Seaman was already part of the furniture when Arsene rolled in with his comedy specs, as were the indisputably sound back four of Dixon, Adams, Keown and Winterburn. It should have been a simple job for the foul-blind Frenchman to build on that and create a long-term dependable brick wall of a defence.

Fair enough for Wenger to have tried out a few understudies to see if one could be built up while Seaman held down the first team duties, but repeated failures such as Alex Manninger, John Lukic, Stuart Taylor, Richard Wright and Rami Shaaban meant that when Seaman left the club in 2003, Wenger needed to buy an expensive world class replacement immediately.

Mart Poom. Played for Arsenal once. Wasn't great.

Instead, Arsene decided that Seaman should be replaced with Jens Lehmann, who had proven himself to be not good enough to keep the geriatric Oliver Kahn out of the German team, and hilariously error-prone at such mediocre-to-decent outfits as Borussia Dortmund and Schalke (respectively after and before they became Champions League forces)

After Jens went all Harald Schumacher on Samuel Eto'o in the Champions League final, he was eventually shuffled aside for the circus sideshow known to most as Manuel Almunia. When even Arsene's untrained eyes saw he was simply a bleached blonde mullet and four randomly flailing limbs, Arsene panicked again, and has tried and failed to bring Lukas Fabianski and Wociejhjshs Kenny Chesney into the team.

Meanwhile the defence has slipped as well. As I alluded to earlier, there have been some quality defenders such as Kolo Toure, Ashley Cole or Sol Campbell, but they're the few idyllic islands in a sea of Pascal Cygans and Oleg Luzhnys. One has to wonder if Wenger's lost his touch, and simply wanders aimlessly around the transfer market nowadays with a few million in his pocket looking for cheap young Franco-Africans. After all, if it worked once...

Arsene undeniably has an incredible eye for a bargain (£500,000 for Anelka and Fabregas are up there with the best ever buys), but it would appear the man has no idea how to find a good goalkeeper. It must be incredibly frustrating for Gooners to see the club linked with people like Sebastian Frey, Igor Akinfeev and Maarten Stekelenburg every single transfer window, and be stuck with the same inept clowns. And until they can find themselves a dependable shot-stopper, I struggle to see how they can mount a sustained title challenge.

Is Football in the Wrong Dimension?

Unless you have spent the last few years like the proverbial ostrich, with your head in the sand, you will no doubt have heard the great song and dance surrounding 3D TV.

As a concept, 3D has merits. The experience of seeing a blockbuster film at an Imax screen is a gripping thrill-ride and the third dimension certainly enhances the atmosphere. But what about live sport in the third dimension?

Naturally, Sky have made a huge fuss about their televised football being 3D, including what looks like their own version of the Blues Brothers (until they went all rock 'n' roll and unleashed abuse on a female official). They pushed the 3D coverage fervently in a big advertising campaign, encouraging viewers to find their nearest 3D pub.

Just imagine the spectacle: 200 blokes down the local, all wearing silly blue and red glasses, whilst watching the big game (spare a thought for those poor souls who have to wear glasses anyway). This scenario, which would resemble an Edgar Davids fan convention, already sounds ridiculous enough, but imagine seeing images like this and this in three dimensions. They are scary enough in 2D to give a child nightmares without making them pop out of the screen and towards your face, snarling.

As a sceptic, I can't help but see this 3D lark as anything more than a fad that will eventually pass. Besides, 3D football is nothing new; it has been around since the game was first invented. Of course, I am referring to going to watch a game live. It doesn't get any more 3D than cheering your team on from the stands. Even better, you don't have to watch the game in red and blue shades (impossible for Norwich vs Plymouth games) and the atmosphere is better than the greatest surround sound system could convey.

2D football has served us perfectly well since it was first broadcast, so let's keep it that way. If you insist on watching your football in 3D, go and support your team in person -  and put those silly glasses in the bin.

Spare a thought for Nani

Few hearts will have bled with sympathy for Nani when the PFA Player of the Year nominees were announced.

The Portuguese Manchester United winger is disliked by many for some of his on field antics; diving, feigning injury and crying to name just a few.


All of that aside, however, and it has to be said that he has finally shown this season the form that we knew he was capable of on a consistent basis. Since he signed for United in 2007, he has been erratic to say the least. His performances fluctuating between scoring some sublime goals to barely knowing he's on the pitch.

In a Manchester United team that is widely accepted to be their worst for possibly 15-20 years, Nani has been at the forefront of United's quest to remain at the peak of English football. Last season, it could have been argued that Wayne Rooney carried the team but when his form dipped at the end of the season, throughout the World Cup and the majority of this season, it could have been difficult to see where the goal threat could come from.

Berbatov had struggled since joining from Tottenham, Hernandez was largely unproven. Somebody needed to step up to the plate. Nani and the two aforementioned players have all performed admirably this season, but it is Nani who has stood out with nine goals and the most assists of anybody in the league.

Despite such output, the PFA have overlooked him and named a sextet of Gareth Bale, Scott Parker, Samir Nasri, Nemanja Vidic, Charlie Adam and Carlos Tevez.


The six have all played remarkably this season, and all are undoubtedly important figureheads of their respective teams but it is Bale, the bookies' favourite at a staggering 1/2, whom is surely least deserving of the award.

We've all seen his two demolitions of Inter Milan but he has spent much of this season injured, so his team have got by without him. When he has played he has been good, but the best player in the league? Not even close. If he could maintain his Internazionale performances on a regular basis then you are looking at a world class player but it is the consistency of performances and appearances that is lacking.

Does Swearing Crackdown Mean Sweet F.A.?

Wayne Rooney swears. He swears a lot.

In fact, believe it or not, most footballers swear. Some of them every single game. Now, some of these players swear at referees; this isn't really allowed. Not that you'd guess.

It is very rare, particularly in the Premier League, to see a player either booked or sent off for 'effing and jeffing' at the man in black. Rooney, it has to be said, is one of the most prominent players who are prone to one or two expletive-laden tirades at the officials. Yet, on most occasions, he is let off scot-free.

Why, then, are the F.A. choosing to ban him for his 'message' into the camera of Sky Sports?

This isn't to say it is the wrong move, mind. What Rooney did was stupid and to do it into a camera, a camera he knows is providing images to millions of viewers (viewers who include impressionable children), is both unprofessional and irresponsible.

What it does mean, however, is that the F.A. have, potentially, set a dangerous precedent.

Does this mean that all swearing by players will result in a ban? Or just swearing at referees? Or maybe it only counts if you're caught on camera? Possibly it's only if there's huge mock-outrage from the media... who knows?

If, next weekend, you spot a player giving a linesman a bit of 'friendly advice' of where he can store his flag and said player doesn't get booked; you'll know it's likely the latter.

What is more confusing is that this ban follows the F.A's refusal to punish Rooney for his near-assault of Wigan's James McCarthy.

Effectively, in punishing this yet refusing to punish the elbow; the F.A. have given the message: 'It's fine to smack someone in the head, as long as you don't tell him to 'f**k off' as you're doing it'.

It could be argued that this ban comes in lieu of the elbow incident. If so, then that is a further blow to their integrity; smacking of a Gene Hunt-esque modus operandi of 'we might not be able to get you on one score but we'll get you on something, no matter how shoddy'.

In any case, if the F.A are intent on cracking down on players swearing in camera-shot, then Mark Wright can expect a retrospective fine for his rather uncouth display of delight at lifting the F.A. Cup in 1992.

Argelico Fucks and Stefan Kuntz (and John Motson) can also count themselves lucky they avoided the Premier League.

Meanwhile, the F.A. continue to bemuse and blunder their way through their stewardship of the game; usually leaving us all thinking: "F***ing what?! What?! F***ing hell!"

Sky's the limit but their punditry is limited

This weekend saw the return of domestic football and, with it, the loud, brash, 'look at me' banner waving of Sky Sports.

Not that this comes as a surprise or, indeed, to the detriment of the viewer. Sky have been exactly the same since day one when they rolled out the cheerleaders and Richard Keys' hands were still impossibly hairy.

If you put your mind to it, you can almost successfully zone-out whenever Sky's follically over-compensated ringmaster bellows at you to 'WATCH IT IN 3D! GO ON! IT'S DEAD GOOD! I PROMISE!'

One area, however, in which Sky have become more irritating is in their deteriorating quality of punditry and their obvious sycophancy towards certain members of the footballing world - and apparent agenda against some others.

Watching the Community Shield, yesterday, you could almost be forgiven for thinking your television was autonomously flicking between MUTV and some sort of anti-Capello propaganda channel.

It started off all harmless enough, with Keys peddling out cliché after cliché about how 'it's good to be back' with 'the best league in the world' and him trying to flog you 3D TV, much in the same way as you would expect a street merchant in Marrakesh to try and palm a dodgy Rolex off on you for an unnecessarily exorbitant price.

Then Redknapp opened his mouth.

While he must be congratulated in managing to curb his misuse of the word 'literally', he threw away any chance of having his first decent game when he launched into an off-topic 'Capello has lost the plot' rant.

This rant can be summarised as: 'Capello is not good enough because he's not English enough'.

You almost get the feeling that he won't be happy until his old fella, whiter-than-white, diamond geezer, Harry Redknapp gets the job.

When, finally, Redknapp had tired himself out, picked up his dummy, and settled down for a nap during the game (not that it'd make much difference to his inane, paint-by-numbers, makes-Mark-Bright-look-insightful effort of an 'analysis' if he actually did falls asleep during the game) it was time to roll out an interview with His Holiness Lord Almighty The Overseer Most High Sir Alex Ferguson, to give him his full Sky Sports infobar name.

Well, calling it an 'interview' is probably over-egging it somewhat. That would imply probing and helpful questions were asked. They weren't.

Instead, Geoff Shreeves, boot polish and tongue at the ready, proceeded to make Jonathan Ross and Terry Wogan look like the Spanish Inquisition.

No queries on Michael Carrick's miraculous recovery, from being ruled out for two weeks on Friday to starting one-and-a-half days later. No probing on the possible transfer of Mesut Ozil. No anything.

The interview basically condensed into:

GS: "Good to be back, isn't it Sir Alex?"
AF: "Yes it is."
GS: "You're great."
AF: "Yes I am."
GS: "I love you."
AF: "I know."

Of course, the coverage of the game itself was, as usual, high quality stuff. No one can argue about that.

It's even possible to put up with the odd bit of salesmanship from Martin Tyler and the general torrent of verbal diarrhoea from Andy Gray. Although, even they are partial to a bit of a love-in.

After Javi Hernandez scored his farcical face-plant, complete with equally farcical badge-kissing celebration, Tyler and Gray waxed lyrical about 'yet another young gem unearthed by Sir Alex' and marvelled at his ability to find young talent, conveniently forgetting the likes of Tosic, Manucho, Djemba-Djemba, Liam Miller and Dong.

Although, to be fair to Tyler and Gray, they may have genuinely forgotten about them, such was their pointlessness.

After the game it was back to Richard and Jamie in the studio for, yet another edition of, the mind numbing state-the-obvious championship.

Sometimes you have to laugh at the sheer shallowness of it all, if only because the alternative is to put your foot through your TV.
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