England, your England

I remember when it started.

One of my earliest sporting memories was watching rugby on the TV with my father. I guess it must have been about 1975, and that legendary Wales team were beating absolutely everyone in sight. I liked football, but didn't really watch it much at that age. Hard to imagine for some now, but it wasn't really on the telly much back then. (the first live televised 'top tier' game of the modern age was not until 1983). My old man always said it was full of 'poofs kissing each other' anyway. Not really a man's sport at all. So it was rugby for me, sat in front of the telly for Five Nations matches on a Saturday afternoon. And when my Dad exploded with joy after a Gareth Edwards' try, running around the room like a court jester on amphetamines, I knew the Welsh jersey meant something very special to him. So the Dai was cast as it were.

Despite being born and living in England there was never really a question of ever supporting England. The rugby Five Nations was all about the rivalry between 'the Celts' and the English, with the French thrown in for good measure and the odd gallic shrug. Supporting a fabulously exciting team who chucked the oval ball around with buckets of flair was easy to do, but the truth is I had no choice. "You're Welsh son, don't forget it!" That sort of thing. Except my mother is Scottish. So technically I was a pure-blooded celt who happened to live in England. What's a boy to do?

My love affair with the round balled-game came a bit later after I started playing it. Everybody was playing football. All you needed was a ball and some jumpers. Rugby? I didn't really have the physique. And all those complicated rules, it's not a game for playing down the park. My earliest memories of a football World Cup were of the 1978 tournament. All ticker-tape, bad hair and, well, no England. So of course with no sign of Wales I naturally supported Scotland. Strange to consider now that Ally McLeod's team went to that tournament with serious ambitions to win it. Archie Gemmill's goal aside there was little to cheer for the Tartan Army. But subsequently during the Home Internationals I found myself wanting Scotland AND Wales to beat England. Didn't happen very often, but oh when it did that was something special to savour.

Something strange happened in Italia '90, I found myself out watching the games a lot in pubs and finding it easy to set aside my natural prejudice. Second Summer of Love? The brilliance of 'World in Motion'? Gazza? The legendary Bobby Robson? Can't work out why, but it didn't last.

In the many years between it's been simple really. Wales all the way, through thick and mainly thin. Even saw (and enjoyed) Wales beat Scotland twice in one crazy week back in 2004, once at rugby and then at football! So maybe I'm best described as an Englishman with the blood of a celt. Easy to see why supporting 'Great Britain' (Olympics, British Lions etc) is so appealing for me. No complexities, no twisted loyalties.

So can I support England during this World Cup? No, sorry. I have no axe to grind, no chip on the shoulder. Despite being my country I'm afraid they're just not my team and never have been. The partisan nature of football fans often requires us to ask that old clichéd question: Club or Country? Royals winning a major trophy or England winning the World Cup? Well, obviously for me there's no contest.

Jimmy Kebe: Renaissance Man

It was a damp, chilly April lunchtime in North London two years ago. A struggling Royals side is being toyed with by an Arsenal team bristling with stars such as Van Persie, Walcott and Adebayor. Things don't look good as the home side capitalise on an error by Ibrahima Sonko and Adebayor finishes with a cool, clinical touch. This could be bad. We've not created very much, and I'm sat a stone's throw from the suffering Reading fans, but perversely I'm in amongst the Gooner faithful. The worst place to be as I have to endure the taunts and the endless singing of 'We'll never play you again' but cannot respond. It's cold. It's wet. Frankly, I want to go home. And then something happens that brightens my day a little. A gangly, unlikely looking winger we've not had for long picks the ball up in the Arsenal half and runs with it. He runs with pace and intent, and a frisson of expectancy ripples through the travelling fans as we suddenly look like we have a threat...

...and then he falls over in a heap, leaving the ball behind for Arsenal sweep away with.

Oh Jimmy. What might have been.

And so the cult legend of Jimmy Kebe was born. Occasionally he would do something brilliant leaving defenders in his wake, but more often that not it would end with a skewed cross into the crowd, or a comical stumble. But Jimmy Kebe always tried, he had a go. Even when things didn't work out he didn't change his style or his attitude to the game. Even when the fans groaned and got on his back, he still showed no fear and just had a go. I was a fan, because whatever happened it was entertainment. And whatever anyone thinks football simply has to be entertaining. To be thrilling and ripe with the possibility of glory and of failure, often in equal dollops.

At the end of last season with the club in the doldrums I wondered if he'd had enough chances to show his true potential. The cardinal sin of the talented footballer is to let that talent go to waste. But there were promising signs in the early part of the season - even when we were not winning many games - that Kebe was beginning to make a difference. Chipping in with the odd goal, making plenty of assists and always changing the game when he came on as a sub. The renaissance was well underway. With the Royals, under the accomplished tutelage of Brian McDermott, looking towards an unbelievable late dash for the play-offs, Jimmy Kebe is the name on many Royals fans' lips.

A seemingly quiet and unfussy character who appears to be just happy to play and get on with his job, he's proven to be an absolute revelation in the last few months: fast, skilful and often quite deadly in front of goal. Forget the badge kissers, Jimmy Kebe is well on his way to becoming a Reading FC cult legend.

Led by donkeys?

Imagine, if you will, the following scenario: in the heat of the battle one army is taking an almighty hammering and appears to be encircled, taking losses from all sides. The beleaguered soldiers are in the main young and inexperienced but have a firm belief in their young, charismatic commander who is leading from the front. Despite having lost the best fighters with no hope of reinforcements, slowly but surely and with will and determination things seem to be turning around and the opposing armies are being beaten back inch by inch. Suddenly, just hours before a big campaign to break out of the encirclement, word is sent from behind the front line that the commander is being relieved of his duties. The high command have decided to promote a lieutenant with no experience at all in the hope that he might come good in the hour of need, whilst the commander is told he is no longer fit enough to lead his men, just when it seemed to all that a victory was possible.

That's how I see things going at Reading FC right now. The preposterous claim that Brian MacDermott (who I have absolutely nothing against I might add) offers 'continuity' sums up the situation. Sadly, the way things look at the moment nothing suggests that 2010 will be any better than the 'annus horribilis' of 2009.

Keep Calm and Carry On...

If you tuned in to BBC Radio Berkshire after yesterday's football match at London Road, you'd have been forgiven for thinking that Reading Football Club had been sold for a fiver to a demented Oxford-supporting billionaire, who'd then decided to immediately change the name to the 'Thames Valley Arse Drovers', insist we play in yellow and green stripes and formulate a dastardly plan to erase the good name of RFC from the history books. However, no insidious plan had been hatched from Madejski Towers. The fuming texters had chosen to take up Tim Dellor and that other Johnny bloke's offer to 'vent their spleen' after a dismal and fairly inexplicable capitulation to Peterborough. The tone of irate fans bombarding the show was one of apoplectic rage, simmering under a layer of downright disgust at anyone connected with the club. Those in the firing line were the usual suspects of course: the Players, the Manager (and staff), the Chairman and the Director of Football. All received the ire of supporters in shock after a game which we conspired to throw away after a fine start which saw us take a deserved two-goal lead. For some this was the final straw - 'sack Rodgers, I always said we'd struggle with him at the helm' - others saw this as the culmination of two years of decline, 'What's happened to my beloved club!?' asked one inconsolable fan.

Ringleader of the Tormentors

The stream of invective continued, ably egged on by the aforementioned Dellor, who had clearly almost lost his cool as he sat quivering with rage at London Road. At one point after suggesting that 'the players aren't good enough' (the same players he'd praised on Wednesday night and about an hour before for a fine first half performance) he looked to see if there was a clue in Brendan Rodgers' voice and oratory skills, perhaps these weren't quite up to scratch and simply couldn't inspire his players. Oh dear Tim. I've heard more insightful even-handed arguments standing at an East Stand urinal. Steve Coppell was not exactly Barack Obama was he? I heard he did OK. I've always thought BR's interviews suggest he's actually a pretty good motivator in the dressing room. He sounded pretty angry with the 2nd half performance, I doubt he needs to be told by anyone that it was unacceptable.

Reasons to be cheerful?

In the immediate aftermath of a last-gasp defeat to a team we should have beaten I would expect to hear some anger, some passion and some criticism from fans, hell, I was fuming! However yesterday went beyond that into the arena of the ludicrous. Firstly, look at the table. Struggling yes, but we're not actually in the relegation zone; our record is 1 win, 3 draws and 4 defeats. One of those defeats was unlucky, and another was away against a team who are likely to finish in the top 2; we've kept 3 clean sheets. There's a plan borne of a clear vision, and it worked beautifully in the first half against the Posh and for periods against Cardiff too.

Why we're not Newcastle, thankfully.

The club has never bowed to fan pressure. Alan Pardew suffered the ignominy (albeit mainly directed at the players) of having to witness thousands of fans waving their underpants in the air. People were calling for his head not that long before he turned things around and laid the foundations for the most phenomenal success in the club's history. So to the 'Sack Brendan' brigade I would say this: if not Brendan then who? Gus Poyet?! Glenn Hoddle?! Or does anyone really think that we can prise another good Championship manager away from their club - especially as most of them are doing better than us! Nobody is going to ride up Hoops Way on a white steed and lead us back into the Premier League. Right now it's roll-up sleeves time and stop living in the past. We have a set of players with talent, and a manager who is better positioned than anyone to get them performing. Let them get on with it - and if we're still struggling in a month's time with no visible signs of progression you can unsheathe your knives then.

Crisis? What crisis?!

A couple of weeks ago you'd be forgiven for thinking that, five games in to a new season under a new management team, Reading FC was a club in some kind of irreversible plummet towards League One. What a difference an away win can make, not only to the league table, but to the overall mood surrounding the club and its supporters. Having not won at home since January, entertaining Sheffield United on the back of two draws, one defeat and precisely no goals was always going to be a tough assignment, and so it proved. Despite taking the lead with a goal from Matt Mills on his Madejski debut it was a 1-3 reversal that prolonged the wait for that elusive home victory. Once again there was plenty of positives, but that lack of quality in the final third that was becoming painfully obvious. Poor old Adam Federici too, the hero of the goalless draw at Swansea City a few days earlier with a penalty save, it was his error that allowed the Blades back in the game. Suddenly the Royals were languishing near the bottom without a win and just one goal from four games. Even for a new manager with a clear rebuilding plan these were testing times for Brendan Rodgers. A midweek Carling Cup fixture against fellow Championship strugglers Barnsley would provide the perfect opportunity to put league woes away for the night and register a victory. Unfortunately, despite being the better side throughout it was the Tykes who progressed to round 3 meaning more misery at the Madejski. A league game at Oakwell a few days later would be a chance to reverse the result against Barnsley. Prior to that two new additions to the squad of Jobi McAnuff and Gregor Rasiak softened the blow of losing out on number one summer target Tommy Smith. Rasiak made the trip to Oakwell but it was Noel Hunt who provided the killer instinct after a disastrous start that saw the Royals go behind within 20 minutes. Maybe this was the youngsters coming of age, being 'blooded' as it were. At that point it would have been easy to capitulate after being outplayed away from home. To the team's credit they dug deep and found something beyond the promising pretty football. Sometimes you have to go direct when required, and Noel Hunt has the poacher instinct that has been is lacking from Shane Long's game. A 3-1 win and things look a lot rosier as we go into the international break. A collective sigh of relief perhaps, from players, management and fans.

The club is clearly in a transitional phase beyond anything anyone could have imagined at the end of last season. Sure, we expected to lose Doyle and Shunt, heck maybe Bikey and Harper too. More surprising is the loan departure of Liam Rosenior, though I'm not a big fan, clearly this is a decision that is driven by something other than football. The academy players are getting their chance, and there's some very exciting prospects amongst them. It's going to be a season with ups and downs, but exciting nonetheless. We're playing some attractive and creative football, if we can ally that to a killer instinct in front of goal this could be a very successful season - and that might just surprise a few people.

To the Gates of Hull...a Stephen Hunt Odyssey

As the curtain falls on Stephen Hunt's Reading FC career it brings to a close one of the most protracted transfer stories in the club's recent history. One thing is for sure nobody has divided opinion and provoked the ire of fans quite like the tousle-haired Irish winger. Certainly he has made an impact far beyond anything we could have expected when he signed on a permanent basis from Brentford FC in 2005. It's easy to forget that he was really just cover for the in-form Bobby Convey, an understudy to one of the stars of Coppell's legendary team of '05/'06. On the field Hunt was a tenacious 'go forward' type of player, some might say 'terrier-like'. He certainly had pace but lacked the technical craft of Convey. The American loved to cut inside, and scored some memorable goals marauding forward with intent. It's fair to say Hunt was more of a conventional winger: get to the by-line quickly, get the cross in. It's no wonder he was so favoured by the archetypal touchline-hugging winger himself, Sir Steven Coppell.

Sadly for Convey injury disrupted his career and he was never to regain that sparkling form. Hunt was able to grab his chance with both hands and to his credit he became one of the stars of the hugely successful '06/'07 Premiership season. What surprised me more than anything was how far he had come in such a short time and how the rough edges had been smoothed away to leave a pretty decent footballer. I say that as one of the nay-sayers who accepted he was decent cover for Convey but seriously doubted his ability to compete at the highest level. However he, perhaps more than anyone, typified the attitude that propelled the team to 8th place that season. It was a stiff two-fingers to the doubters: "You think we ain't good enough? We'll show you!" Hunt seemed to have added an extra dimension to his game, a bit of patience and thought allied to a vastly-improved touch which enabled him to pull-off the flicks and back-heels to the delight of an appreciative home crowd. Sure, he was still a little fiery and impetuous - the infamous challenge on Petr Cech was not malicious, but probably careless - , but to some extent that's what we wanted to see, someone willing to get in the faces of the Big Boys and not be intimidated. We lapped it up. Look Ma we're in the Premier League! And guess what we're playing proper football!! Surely it couldn't last could it? Well no, it couldn't.

Ask many Reading fans to give a reason for relegation from the Premier League and you'll probably get a constant theme running through their answers: failure to sufficiently strengthen, and principally not being able to replace Steve Sidwell. 'Second season syndrome' doesn't simply happen - it's not a magical, mysterious phenomenon, there's always a reason why things don't work out. Coppell showed loyalty and relied heavily on those who had served him so well, but most simply didn't perform at the same levels of consistency. Stephen Hunt was in that category, but he certainly wasn't alone. How he was voted 'Player of the Season' at the end of that campaign was one of the great mysteries to me. Marcus saved more shots than any other keeper that season and probably kept our hopes alive until the bitter end, he should have run away with it. Though clearly not Hunt's fault, maybe that was the beginning of the end for him as a fan's favourite, polarising opinion as it did. He was either the passionate, throbbing heart of the team, or a swaggering chancer of average ability who had been found out. The truth is he was probably neither, but what did we know? We're just the paying punters.

The Hunt fan club itself was about to diminish significantly though. Emotions are raw after relegation, and for the supporters the last thing you want to hear are players going public about their desire to move on so soon after the pain of going down. It was ill-judged of Hunt to express so demonstratively his desire to leave. What was most galling though was his belief (perhaps not expressed in so many words) that he was too good for the Championship. Kevin Doyle was probably the only person who at that moment could have dared utter such a claim without ridicule. Before a ball had been kicked in August '08 he was talking up a transfer, with Everton seemingly the favourites. Not a way to endear yourself to the faithful, or indeed your team mates so soon after a season that can only be seen as a failure. Hunt's 'want away' announcements were interpreted as arrogance by large sections of fans. I doubt any player wanted to play in a lower tier that season, but perhaps a sense of duty and responsibility (as demonstrated by Coppell's commitment to the cause) was not so readily lost on other players. I'm not naive enough to think that had offers come in for other players they would have resisted the temptation, however sometimes it's better just to keep quiet and get on with it as others clearly did.

Despite lots of talk twelve months ago the cast-iron offers never materialised and Hunt was left to bemoan the opportunity he had been 'denied'. Ironically for a couple of months we saw glimpses of the old Hunty, perhaps helped by having his younger brother joining the squad. Sadly, as with the whole team, his form dipped dramatically once again. Coppell arguably stuck with his man for too long and reiterated his desire to keep him during the January transfer window. The endorsement went as far as ensuring Hunt a three-year contract in February 2009 - smart business when we can now bag a few million quid for him. Inexplicably Hunt then posted some of the worst performances of his Reading career: only Jimmy Kebe could have exhibited more lack of control of a football, and at least he occasionally beat his man for pace!

So after a season that promised so much but ended in disappointment the rumour mill ground back into action, however it would be Kevin Doyle's move to Wolves that grabbed all the headlines this summer. Doyle had the good grace to say very little last season but do his best to get Reading back in to the Premier League. Ultimately it was not to be, but most would be full of praise for his commitment the club that gave him his big break and wish him well. Unfortunately the same good grace is unlikely to be extended to Stephen Hunt. History will probably judge him kindly as an important member of the 106 Point Legends. It's unlikely he would have fit into Brendan Rodgers' plans anyway but right now as he prepares to move to East Yorkshire it's doubtful I'm alone in thinking that he won't be missed.