Stoke, 10 January, 2009

Off then, once again, to Stoke for the evening game with Liverpool.. As 0-0 draws go, it had a certain fascination. And, even if they forget to announce the attendance, they're slowly getting their act together at Stoke: parking expertly sorted; fewer spelling mistakes in the programme; pies before half-time (albeit not especially warm pies) and mushy peas which were - like Stoke itself - almost northern. And there was even the splendid sight of the Sunday Express's Richard Jolly dressed as if recently returned from a stint on a North Sea trawler.
The real fun though came afterwards, although Tony Pulis couldn't be bothered to share his thoughts on a feisty performance. Enter Rafael Benitez.
His English could still do with touching up, but he's always been a canny media player (hence his way of getting northern hacks on his side by the 'turn off the tape recorder' trick, where he tells them something he doesn't want to appear in print in quote form: they look informed when they hint at it and he looks like he takes journalists seriously, which he does) and he's always been driven. Anyway, we talk about the game for a little while, albeit not the facts that he picked the wrong team and that Yossi Benayoun is no elite Premiership player.
Then - you know what's coming - he continues his pre-match rant vis-a-vis Alex Ferguson. Only "rant" isn't the word. It's like he's reading from a script. Only a couple of the hacks bite, but Benitez keeps going and going and going. His argument is essentially that:
a) "Mr" Ferguson has been talking trash about Liverpool.
b) I'd like him to stop.
c) some unspecified people have sent some other unspecified people some unspecified messages agreeing with me.
d) football is rejoicing because I've said what others dare not.
This, by any reasonable yardstick, is nonsense. It's not a Kevin Keegan moment because there's nothing remotely spontaneous about it and it's not bitter, because he's smart enough to know that Liverpool don't deserve to be top of the league. It's just a fishing exercise, no more, no less, but the weirdest thing of all is that he thought Ferguson would give a hoot.