Akinsamiro makes Serie A debut for Inter

[Bigpokey24]

The quintessential Nigerian root cause analysis looks for the one or few to blame, never the many. Never the system. Aribo is a limited player but there are those who, through working within their limitations and system-based augmentation of their skillset, have impact beyond their ability. Frank Onyeka is hardly Rodri, Rice or Macallister, but his strong running, indefatigable engine and tenacity, has made him a centrepiece in Brentford's midfield. The players around him, in the system played, allow his skills to augmented and limitations subdued, not entirely, but enough for him to be a mainstay in midfield. In the AfCON, he was arguably one of Nigeria's better players.

By no means a defence of Arborio, but rather a statement of the obvious, Osimhen aside, its a bang average squad, but so too were Leicester City. A clear strategy broken down into rolls and duties, will dictate the key skills and essential qualities. Whilst there has to be a threshold for call-ups in terms of domestic league quality and competitiveness, the Championship should fall well within that standard. Being a regular starter for a Championship side, performing well, with ample opta data to boot, should warrant a look in. 2019, Jude Bellingham was plying his trade for the Blues of St Andrews in the "2nd division", somewhat good enough for Bundesliga Big Boys Borussia Dortmund. Fast forward 2 seasons and 120M euro, arguably one of the best (performing) players on the planet for the Biggest of the Big Boys.

"Division 2's" very own Jude Belligham. 16 league goals, another 9 and he'll have exceeded his tally Dortmund that took 130 odd games. Made in the Championship to make a mockery of La Liga. There are diamonds in its dirt.

Diamonds in the dirt notwithstanding, I will push back with "The Alamo" proportions, the notion of the Championship, aka N- League, N being Neanderthals, as anything to glorify...

The English have been selling this bill of goods as hard as they sold us Mungo Park!

Once there were Saxons. Once there were Vikings...

But its 2024 folks, and we aint going back!!!

[Coach]

Re: we ain’t going back broda, back? Could the steps be any more antegrade? Forward march, full tilt, full throttle. Akin to the mines of Sierra Leone and the Congo, Europe’s elite scour through those Championship soils rich in diamond, tanzanite, opal. For, where else are they in such abundance? Shaped for purpose by the immense pressures of bone crunching fifty fifties, colossal aerial contests, midfield battles worthy of the Somme or Hastings.

Donde estas el Pedri senõr? Bottling it. El Gavi? Much the same. Porque? Correction, pork scratchings and black pudding, eggy beans and double mushrooms. Bread? Two slices, deep fried. Tea, 4 sugars and 2 more for good measure. Breakfast of all Bellinghamdon. Fact.

Duke Jude Bellingham, raised in the Midlands, made in the Championship. There’s many, many more. Payment in Pounds Heinrich! Sterling.

[Coach]

@Tx, knock knock. Who's there? Eli. Eli who? Eli Adebayo, Professor emeritus of the English Football League, key to the city and all its breweries. Bombadier by the barrel, Tetley by the keg. 9 league goals for Luton Town, double figures by the season’s end. That’s more than many a Paella could muster on those unrelenting shores. Raised in? Made in?

What’s a Wellmans capsule to 46 battle of Britains, season in, season out. Not to mention the playoffs, gladiatorial contest worthy of Caesarean Rome. All that maketh the man is rich in the soils.

Perhaps it is a prejudice that paints the eye its shade? Yes in days of old, the football was of a particular variety, equally enjoyable, today’s game is somewhat removed from its origin. Fortunately, not entirely. If one wants to watch men diving in the dirt, there’s the 6 Nations, mauls, rucks, scrummages. Proper game, not the androgen insensitised nonsense masquerading as a contact sport, unashamedly in certain corners.

In the words of Sméagol Gollum, “give it to us raw and wriggling”. Stepovers, drag backs, through balls aplenty, but dare thee temper down the fizzed crosses, long throws, studs up steaming into fifty-fifties, “well in!!!” roars the crowd, VAR stands to applause. “Play on” bellows the Ref.

Raking cross to the far stick, who’s at the back post? Gavi? No senõr. Fabio Silva? Não senhor. Timo Werner? Nein. Anthony Martial? Ou es le far poste s’il vous plait? Big. Eli. Adebayo. Flush. To borrow from the literary brilliance of Tyneside’s Sir Alan Shearer, “he wants it more”.

That’s how it makes them. Ready. Willing. Able.

[danfo driver]

Was on the bench again for Inter today.

[txj]

@Tx, knock knock. Who's there? Eli. Eli who? Eli Adebayo, Professor emeritus of the English Football League, key to the city and all its breweries. Bombadier by the barrel, Tetley by the keg. 9 league goals for Luton Town, double figures by the season’s end. That’s more than many a Paella could muster on those unrelenting shores. Raised in? Made in?

What’s a Wellmans capsule to 46 battle of Britains, season in, season out. Not to mention the playoffs, gladiatorial contest worthy of Caesarean Rome. All that maketh the man is rich in the soils.

Perhaps it is a prejudice that paints the eye its shade? Yes in days of old, the football was of a particular variety, equally enjoyable, today’s game is somewhat removed from its origin. Fortunately, not entirely. If one wants to watch men diving in the dirt, there’s the 6 Nations, mauls, rucks, scrummages. Proper game, not the androgen insensitised nonsense masquerading as a contact sport, unashamedly in certain corners.

In the words of Sméagol Gollum, “give it to us raw and wriggling”. Stepovers, drag backs, through balls aplenty, but dare thee temper down the fizzed crosses, long throws, studs up steaming into fifty-fifties, “well in!!!” roars the crowd, VAR stands to applause. “Play on” bellows the Ref.

Raking cross to the far stick, who’s at the back post? Gavi? No senõr. Fabio Silva? Não senhor. Timo Werner? Nein. Anthony Martial? Ou es le far poste s’il vous plait? Big. Eli. Adebayo. Flush. To borrow from the literary brilliance of Tyneside’s Sir Alan Shearer, “he wants it more”.

That’s how it makes them. Ready. Willing. Able.

Thankfully, I have good ol' Grid Iron Football.

NFL baby
Go Pack, Go!!!

Not the wussy kitty cat magic on turf. Smash mouth football!!

But when I want to watch futbol, I want it served pure and delicate.
Like the curves on senorita on the Copacabana...
With penetration down the middle, a la Pedri or Gavi...