Welcome to GBWTF… Manager’s Edition.
I’m The Likely Lad and I’ll be subbing in for umlaut75 this lovely Wednesday afternoon in Neeeew Yooooork City! Beach ball weather, amIright?!? Alright, alright… so tell me: Who’s ever been watching a game, having a nice ol’ time, nice lil’ morning of Ingerlish footy, when boom! You get hit with the touchline shot of a manager– a grown man, paid millions of pounds to lead and represent his international megaclub– in what one might only describe as an overgrown child’s Halloween costume? There he stands, a 50-, 60-, 70-year-old in a training kit, maybe even a pair of boots, as the game unfolds with his young charges rollicking about the pitch…
In keeping with umlaut’s title, I’ve broken it down three ways. You have The Good– dashing, besuited, and stylish– along with The Bad– nice look, now tough it out and take off the parka, schoolboy!– and of course, the WTF? Come get some, Martin Man-Boy O’Neill!
Good is a strong word, but these guys are pretty reliablely put-together. There’s no Mourinho in the lot, but at least they manage to pick out a new tie once in a while and don’t look like fat Spanish waiters.
The rest of England would do well to have a walk through Don Capello’s wardrobe. Like most of the country’s best things, he’s an import. For us, it’s the combination of plastic frames and tailored suits– even if we’re a bit put off by the club/country crest on the breast– that puts Capello atop the class.
If only he could strike the same balance in his managerial style. Keane may be the country’s foremost suit-and-scruff man, and for that we reward him here. In fact, Ned tells me that if Roy keeps it up his current run, he should be offered a lifetime contract to stay at Ipswich.
I really tried to find an* Englishman with some class, but it was taking too damn long. So instead we look south to Catalonia, where they played the best footy of last season, and stake claim to the world’s NEW master of managerial chic. Unlike Keane, he’s ditched the fat ties. He also wins games, which counts for something. Pep is world football’s uber-pimp. Congrats.
Look at me. I’ve put on a proper suit and tie. Buttoned up all the way. Classy shoes. NOW I’m going to throw on this NFL sideline parka! What’s the point? If you’re gonna prowl around in one of these why not just leave the peejays on underneath? Harry does it, Arsene, Alex, Rafa… they all do it. It’s bad. Not as bad though, as what’s to come.
Are you f%&kin’ serious, mate? That’s just plain rude.
Or insurance? Could I interest you in this wonderful, pre-owned automobile? Clearly Mrs. Hughes is knotting his tie and picking his sideline gear. Hughes wears it like a little boy forced out on Sunday morning.
The absolute king abomination in all English football and my sole inspiration for putting this stupid post together. People complain about baseball managers wearing uniforms, but this is entirely worse. Why? Well, in baseball it’s a tradition. A stupid one, yes, but everyone does it. I still prefer the Connie Mack look. In football, there is choice. And Martin O’Neill, a very intelligent fella by all accounts, looks like he should be collecting bite size Crunch bars and chasing his mates around with shaving cream. Why in the world does he need to wear cleats on the sideline? (Ned suggests he may go straight from training with the reserves to the pitch. Outlandish, but even then, he should get changed. He does have an office doesn’t he?)And have you noticed that his sweat-shirt (not even a hoodie) has a number on it? He’s given himself the #31. Maybe he should change it to 47, as he is a 47 year old man dressed like a child.
Someone feed this imbecile. Actually, on second thought, don’t.
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