Is Sam Allardyce on a Joaquin Phoenix-style wind-up?
It’s either that or crack. Lots and lots of crack.
If you like to balance the low-brow nonsense you read on The Spoiler with high brow artsy stuff like ‘going to the cinema’, you may already know of “I’m Still Here“, a mockumentary based on actor Joaquin Phoenix’s (staged…?) public meltdown last year.
For the uninitiated: in early 2009 Phoenix attempted to con the world into believing he was retiring from acting to persue a career in rapping badly, fighting and falling off stages before shouting “SURPRISE!” and revealing his best mate Casey Affleck had been documenting the whole thing for an essay on ‘the disintegration of celebrity’ (srsly.)
Anyhoo, it appears tubby northern manager Sam Allardyce has recently been ‘oop the pictures’ and decided he wants in on the faux-mental action, because he’s been acting mighty strange (read: talking total shit) in the past week.
Last Friday, Big Samuel produced from his gaping maw the hands down, all-bets-off quote of the season (sorry Mario):
I’m not suited to Bolton or Blackburn, I would be more suited to Inter or Real Madrid. It wouldn’t be a problem to me to go and manage those clubs because I would win the double or the league every time.
Give me Manchester United or Chelsea and I would do the same, it wouldn’t be a problem. It’s not where I’m suited to, it’s just where I’ve been for most of the time.
It’s not a problem to take me into the higher reaches of the Champions League or Premier League and [it] would make my job a lot easier in winning it.
A million teenage girls on a million mobile phones couldn’t text enough ‘LOLs’ to fully convey the breathtaking hilarity of that statement.
Amazingly, it somehow wasn’t enough, and two days later the 55-year-old followed through with this gem:
There is a problem with perception. Arsene is seen as a sophisticated Frenchman while I’m just a rugged English centre-half from the Midlands with an accent to match, but is Arsene more advanced than me in terms of coaching? Not a chance.
Does he use live fitness data on his players during games? Does he study sports psychology every day? Does he use sports science to the extent that I do? I doubt it.
So what do put this nonsense down to? Canny media manipulation? Sam sprinkling crack over his cornflakes?
How long before Phil Brown leaps from the shadows, ’80s-era camcorder in hand, babbling about ‘an essay on the social stratification of the modern manager’?
P.S. In order to make that laboured ‘I’m Still Here’ reference worthwhile, the film is, by all accounts, rubbish. There. We’ve saved you £7.50.