Window Shopping - A Review

There are very few occasions, events or sets of circumstances that can induce me to sit in front of the TV with the laptop on, hitting the F5 button every 45 seconds to refresh any updates on a text page on the internet. However, ticking towards midnight last night, this is exactly what I, and I dare say a fair few football fans, were doing, as we anxiously awaited the last Machiavellian moves of the transfer window.

My main concern on waking was, as a Red, to see if a tall, dark and, well, slightly sleazy looking Bulgarian with feet presumably clad in silk such as his touch, would move to Manchester United. As it turned out, the day had enough intrigue and conspiracy, claim and counter claim, obfuscation and rumour to be the basis of a new Thomas Pynchon novel.

The day started sedately enough, with Tottenham tying up deals for Pavlyuchenko (you won’t believe me but I managed to spell that first time without looking) and Corluka, two fine signings that you might sensibly have thought would start the merry-go-round for the day. In comes the Russian, Berbatov signs for United, and on to Hull goes young Fraizer Campbell. The circle of life in football transfer terms, you might comment. But then in comes news of the Arab takeover of Manchester City, complete with City fans’ well meaning but probably offensive tribute to traditional Arab headgear. You can just see Man City fans charging into their kitchens and whipping the nearest tea towel off the draining board, tea stained and damp, and gaffer taping it to their heads. Bless ‘em…

And off they went, throwing money around the globe in true cheating-at-Football-Manager style. First Berbatov, though the bid for him was most likely an attempt at pointless brinksmanship and trying to drive the price out of United’s reach. This transfer was the most entertaining of the day mind, with rumours that Ferguson himself had shot out to Manchester Airport and picked the striker up himself, a wonderful image if you’ve got a ridiculous imagination like mine. Then came the television pictures of him shaking hands with Ferguson and having a medical, acts that at the time were, due to the fact we hadn’t agreed a fee, about as legal as setting fire to the Queen in parliament whilst liberally dusting the area with heroin. In any case, as the midnight oil being burned warmed up, Berbatov was posing in a red shirt, and I could breathe a sigh of relief.

But this was only a cue for further madness. Roman Abramovich, he of the pockets as deep as the Mariana Trench, was flustering around looking for a spare couple of million down the back of his sofa as Manchester City then outbid Chelsea for diminutive, Carlton Banks lookalike Robson de Souza, better known to you or me as Robinho. The speedy, tricky winger-cum-striker is an exciting player, and had spent the best part of last week with a flamethrower, comprehensively burning every bridge he had with Real Madrid. In a sense, he hamstrung himself into moving to Man City by doing this, and when his hero Scolari looked to Roman and the Russian shrugged with his pockets turned out, he had no choice but to pack his bags for Middle Eastlands (how cringeworthy is that going to become do you think?).

Now, it remains to be seen if Robinho is the first step on a glorious path for Manchester City, though it would seem revolution will be a long time in coming. For instance, Berbatov yesterday showed that Manchester City do not have the pull of other clubs, regardless of how much lucre is waved in their direction. This is just one transfer too, and January will see the kind of player City will be endeavouring to pursue locked up in European competition, and therefore this new revolution at City might be a non starter until next summer at the very least.

Other rumours swirled like an eddying current and never came to fruition. I froze a little when I read that Portsmouth, a team I have a sneaking respect for, were going to sell Diarra on to finance the purchase of uber-moron Joey Barton, he who comically suffered the French trip on Saturday night. Why they would ever consider this what boo-yah stockbroker types call “good business” is so beyond my comprehension I rang some great minds, but unfortunately Stephen Hawkins was busy and Noam Chomsky wouldn’t answer my text. Luckily, this rumour, like many others, proved to be unfounded and I could breathe easy. The only place that should consider an offer for Barton is, in my opinion, a leper colony.

To be fair, there were some other good signings that came out of yesterday’s action. The young Belgian Fellaini was snapped up by Everton for the rather inflated sum of around £15m, though it has to be said that on every occasion I’ve seen him play he has seemed assured, a smart passer of the ball and good in the tackle. Also purchased by Everton was Louis Saha, he who is made of biscuits. When fit, and that is an enormous caveat to this sentence, Saha is an extremely effective forward, with pace and power, and could do a good job for them.

In other news on Merseyside, the sale of steady and efficient Steve Finnan gave more evidence to the world of Rafa Benitez’s seeming hatred of good players. For further evidence, see his almost criminal ignorance of the excellent Ryan Babel. I don’t know why I’m moaning, I loathe Liverpool FC…

Now though, we must accept the fact that the madcap zaniness of the transfer window has ended with that window being slammed shut. In fact, did it slam shut, as every media outlet seems to have it? This of course gives the image of all those unscrupulous agents and managers getting their grubby mitts trapped in the window. For me, I rather naively think the transfer window was gracefully closed, with everyone backing away slowly, knowing their time is up.

In any case, the window has once again gifted us with an almost unprecedented day of footballing drama, and all without a ball being kicked. My team got the striker they so desperately needed, and now we can all settle down and enjoy the football itself, and not the aimless gossip that lingers like an eerie mist over the opening stages of the season.

Of course, in reality this just means that the gossip now switches to the January window, and I’d like to get us off to a start; Robinho to Chelsea for £10m. Away we go...

Written by Paul Madill