Going by the general opinion (beyond the whole "oh, we're playing against Liverpool, not Bournemouth!"), it seems that my worst fear actually came true. We ended up conceding our northern frontier come the next 45 mins.
It's pointless to wind back the clock right now. If we as human beings could do so, quite obviously I'd never do that one stupid decision 3 years ago concerning my super mignone legal housebreaker and Facebook. Period.
A story of two birds
Firstly, I need to point out that bird in British slang means girl. If I call my super mignone legal housebreaker "my bird", it means she's my girl. Which means she's my girlfriend. Why I have the urge to say this... well, I'm just showing off my half-baked command of British English. Period.
Why is the story of two birds, the reason is very simple. In the previous 90 mins, we're up against the finest birds in the top flight. Namely, the Liverbirds. In our next 90 minutes in less than 2 hrs later, we have to face the Welsh birds. Namely, Swansea.
Two kinds of birds
Nicknamed the Swans, it's obvious that Swansea belongs to the Welsh species. However, there's actually a bit of American in this current batch of Swans. Namely, Bob "not to be confused with another Yankee Bob" Bradley.
Recently (okay, not so recently), Comey and Feds managed(?) to bust one of, if not the greatest, Hollywood scandal ever. No, it's not that gender pay gap thing. Yes, it's bad. But at least Apple never endorses gender pay gap (hopefully not anyway). The worst Hollywood scandal happened to be the one which traumatised plenty of Hollywood birds (if I recall correctly, the body count is around 101). Professional journalists call it Celebgate, online journalists have a... well, unsavoury version of this name. Let's just call it a F-word. Why I'm highlighting two kinds of birds is very simple. Hollywood represents America in a certain way, football represents America in another way. As for soccer, Mr Bradley used to coach the U.S national soccer team. If you think I'm talking nonsense, you better be mentally prepared to eat a broomstick. The likes of Tim "he could have saved America!" Howard and Landon "I like his last name" Donovan can be my witnesses. In fact, the likes of Hope 'unrelated to Harrison Ford" Solo and Alex "not Piers" Morgan can also be my witnesses. I do not claim to be famous, I only claim to speak the facts.
You have only 45 mins!!!!!!
Imagine Cable telling Deadpool to hurry up before Professor X and Magneto fused to become Onslaught once again. To make things worse, the reason behind Cable's ire is actually down to Deadpool still watching porn through his laptop. To put it in a nutshell, I really need to hurry up. 40 mins or so from kick off.
Firstly, George "BFF is back" Friend's timely return has given Señor a much welcomed headache. As our default LB, our BFF has endured a horrid beginning. It's like me committing that dumbest mistake 3 yrs ago. Like yours truly, our BFF is now facing better times just like how I realised my super mignone legal housebreaker has been holding a torch for me in the last 3 yrs (and still counting). His injury couldn't come at a worse timing. Then again, Fabio was facing one of, if not the most, in-form wingback named Victor "he parts the opposition defence like the Red Sea" Moses. Simply put, our BFF was spared the ignominy of being Lonesome George.
Assuming Fabio stays and our BFF needs to affirm his mettle, what should be Señor's decision? I'll get to that come the end.
Gylfi "not Odinson, but quite close" Sigurðsson is the real dangerman. As a midfielder capable of playing either at the wing or centre park, he's somewhat like the kind of player Bastian "hopefully still Der Bastion" Schweinsteiger should have been. Tactically smart with a deadly foot to boot. The similarities cannot be any more shocking. Both started off as a wide player. Both are capable of playing in the centre park. Both are basically the default set-piece dealer in their respective teams. The only key difference lies in Der Bastion being more of a Teutonic knight while Sigurðsson as a player is more about guile. Sounds familiar?
Mark my words, Sigurðsson will be Mr Bradley's Hollywood man.
Return of the Beast
Will we see the return of the Beast? We really missed Gastón "El Bestia Bello" Ramírez. Against the saintly south, we missed him. Against the smoking birds from Merseyside, we definitely missed him. If Señor needs to find a magic formula quick and fast to fix our 50-50 patch, he doesn't have to worry. Because he has already stumbled upon one. Against Hull, I saw something which made my eyes lit up. On one end of the width, we have a Danish kingfisher named Viktor "yet to be King Fischer" Fischer. On the other end of the width, we have our laughing jackass from Latin America. I don't have to tell you he shares the same name as a Disney jackass (any act of promoting Emma "the Duchess of Megawatts" Watson here should be seen as an accident).
This is our best starting firing squad (i.e. including Álvaro "solo para siempre?" Negredo because we need a 3rd bloke), mark my words. As for the correct Traoré, let me just quote Echizen Ryoma by saying "mada mada dane."
My advice to Señor? Look out for where Sigurðsson will be deployed. If he's playing the width, it means a straight 3 ball control approach. If he's playing at hole 9, it means the wide players will be given the license to roam and kill. If he's at the holding mid, it means Mr Bradley will be going for broke (at least most likely). If it's false 9, we'll be in for a tough fight because the attacking 3 behind him will be given the license to roam and kill. Mr Bradley will most likely play this compact, but he won't park the bus. 1 pt is not enough for either side, only 3 pts will do. The factors are stacked against them due to potential jetlag (an irony given both Southampton and Swansea belong to the south). Yet, the ball is also round. I'm forced to be optimistic for a reason: We can win it, we also have to win it. Forget about predictions, any win will do. Assuming a 3-0 stuffing of the Welsh turkey is like making up a story just to make me eat a broomstick. Period. Let the final whistle do the job, not us.
P.S: Can our BFF play at the offensive left?
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