The Five Worst Oasis Songs

Noel Gallagher has recently announced the release of his debut solo album, due in October and featuring the Best Song Ever, Stop the Clocks, alongside nine other emphatically Liam-free tracks.

Despite writing some of the biggest anthems of all time, Oasis became decidedly hit and miss as time went on, and the (slightly) less caricaturey Gallagher brother will be hoping that his new release avoids repeating the dirge listed here...

5. Keep the Dream Alive

Don't Believe the Truth, Andy Bell, 2005

If all the songs from Don’t Believe the Truth met in the pub, you might expect Turn Up the Sun and Lyla to get into a scrap. Mucky Fingers would be on the fruit machine, The Importance of Being Idle would be winning the quiz, and The Meaning of Soul would be stealing expensive cigarettes off Let There Be Love.

Keep the Dream Alive would be the man in the corner wearing his grey jumper, drinking half a pint of tap water, telling anyone who’d listen about his and The Wife’s ambitious plans to add an extra half-foot to the vegetable patch. Completely inoffensive but painfully, desperately bland. Musical cardboard.

4. Put Yer Money Where Yer Mouth Is

Standing on the Shoulder of Giants, Noel Gallagher, 2000

One of several utterly diabolical attempts to recreate some of the anger and swagger felt on the first couple of albums. This was impossible, since whilst Definitely Maybe was created by angry, unemployed Manc scallies, by the time Standing on the Shoulder of Giants was released the Gallaghers were multi-millionaire hobnobbing celebrities. Their music eventually progressed accordingly, but a few accidents still slipped the net – an honourable mention to Ain’t Got Nothin’ should go here.

Anyway, Put Yer Money Where Yer Mouth Is drags along embarrassingly and interminably like a Dad dancing at his daughter’s disco, whilst reinforcing the notion that any attempt to fit colloquialism into a song title will end in miserable failure. 

3. Little By Little

Heathen Chemistry, Noel Gallagher, 2002

A controversial inclusion maybe – reaching number two in the charts and still being played live as the group split, Little By Little splits listeners between those who think it one of Noel’s finest ballads, and those who think it’s four minutes of vomit-inducing, Westlife-echoing shite. I’m firmly in the latter camp. 

2. Little James 

Standing on the Shoulder of Giants, Liam Gallagher, 2000

The first Oasis song written by Liam was exactly as terrible as everyone expected. Nobly dedicated to his step-son, the sentiment is nice, but a failed nursery-rhyme tune and the unforgivable lines “live for your toys/even though they make noise” ensure a high place on this list.

1. (Get Off Your) High Horse Lady

Dig Out Your Soul, Noel Gallagher, 2008

The undoubted winner. It’s as if Noel was trying to write a terrible song in order to make the following track, the magnificent Falling Down, sound even better. I would have loved to have been in the room when Noel presented his six songs for this album to the rest of the band – with the other five amongst the best Oasis had released in years, they must have thought this dire, inane, directionless torture was a piss-take.

There is absolutely no indication to what he intended with this track – is it supposed to be psychedelic? Folk? Experimental? It unticks every box. It’s been said that every great album has a poor track, so we can only assume that this was the band’s attempt to turn Dig Out Your Soul from a very good album into a great one.

Or perhaps it’s all one huge trick. This track is so bad, by any measure, that it’s actually quite enjoyable to listen to. Like the poetry of William McGonagall, there is a certain sense of fun to be had in witnessing something so blatantly terrible. Yeah, thats's what I’m going for...

The Horrors - Skying

When The Horrors first surfaced five years ago, dressed like Victorian prostitutes with haircuts that contained their own ecosystem of insects and small birds, not many people took them seriously. Tracks like Count in Fives and Gloves filled dancefloors, and their debut Strange House was pleasant enough in a novelty kind of way, but many saw these winklepickered Vince Noirs as barely a step above other gimmick abusers like The Darkness or Towers of London.

Second album Primary Colours changed that. Gone were the comic-gothic imagery, morbid monikers and Screaming Lord Sutch covers, and in came the unique new sound that Noel Fielding’s Rudi himself was searching for. Reviewers ran out of words to praise a record which provided innovative, atmospheric brilliance not seen from many mainstream artists other than Radiohead.

Can Skying continue the upward curve, and what direction does it take?

Changing the Rain

I doubt anyone expected a start like this – a woozy baggy haze straight from the early 90s. An addictive rhythm to which you can just imagine Bez shaking his maracas leads to a big, summery chorus which hooks you in instantly. Thirty seconds in and The Horrors have already added another weapon to their songwriting arsenal. 9/10

You Said

A vocal-driven track which echoes various 1980s influences, this track runs on slowly but builds subtly with emotion. Like other Horrors songs, difficult to pinpoint as either ‘happy’ or ‘sad’ but manages to display both emotions very well, with some addictive melodies. 8.5/10

I Can See Through You

Faris Badwan’s unique voice, with all its quirks and imperfections, contrasts perfectly with a driving synth riff which provides a raw, dark energy not really heard since the debut. 8.5/10

Endless Blue

A gloomy, instrumental intro which threatens to break at least eight times until it finally does a minute-and-forty in, when a heavy guitar riff kicks in and “everyone, seems so far away” rings around. Probably the most ‘rock’ song on the album, it goes on a bit too long, but whilst it ends up sounding a bit subdued recorded, it will be brilliant live. 7.5/10

Dive In

An intro identical to Brother’s New Years Day, but you won’t be surprised to discover that that is where the similarities to Slough’s finest end. The verses sound like an early Stone Roses’ b-side, and the baggy theme continues throughout the track. A weak, dragging chorus lets it down, which is refrained rather dourly at the end of the track. 6/10

Still Life

The first single, and a strong one. A relaxed rhythm and Gary Numan synths build to a powerful chorus, with the track remaining comfortable in its slow pace in a way that is unlike anything else likely to be released this year. Unexpectedly melodic, smooth vocals. 8.5/10

Wild Eyed

More nods to Madchester with the shortest track on the album, with whispered Ian Brown-esque vocals lazing over a simple repetitive rhythm. A quasi horn-section that Primal Scream would be proud of closes the track. Takes you right back to the Hacienda in 1989, unless of course – like both myself and The Horrors – you were preoccupied with trying not to wet your nappy. 9/10

Moving Further Away

Like an electronic I Am the Resurrection, The first half of this eight-and-a-half minute track runs in normal fashion – although in this case in a very prog-rock manner, with slow refrains of “everybody’s moving further away” over a lively electronic rhythm – before becoming a jam of samples and textures fading into each other. Interesting to listen to, if only to see what’s going to happen next, the track ends with a hazy, repeating vocal over a rhythm which seems to have been building up the entire track. Everything seems to follow naturally, and it’s very impressive. 8/10

Monica Gems

All glam guitars from the start, Rhys Webb claims to have been inspired by 60s pop when writing this track. This is unfortunately slightly optimistic – we know from the Strange House that they have no trouble writing catchy, guitar-driven pop, so this is a bit of a let-down. The sound is stuck in between the first and second albums, as if they couldn’t make their minds up whether to write an instant single or a more experimental, brooding track, and ended up failing to create either. Echoes of Suede. 7/10

Oceans Burning

The first five minutes of the album closer consists of a beautiful ballad which grows and grows with each listen, and another track which Faris Badwan pulls off perfectly. It’s incredible to believe that in a previous life he was Faris Rotter, screeching out Sheena Is a Parasite, but he has adapted and uses his voice’s qualities perfectly when delivering each track. Continuing the incongruous theme of the album, the ending is driven by a heady drum beat with obscured vocals and samples which again somehow manages to sound like a natural extension of the magnificent beginning. 9.5/10

Summary

Influences from all over the musical spectrum are tipped into The Horrors’ cauldron here, producing generally magical results. There are a couple of low points, but these don’t distract from what is another inspirational album. Unlike many bands in the Youtube era, The Horrors write music with an entire album in mind rather than track-by-track, and this tells. Whilst each track is different, sometimes very dramatically, it flows perfectly and the album as a whole equates to even greater than the sum of its very impressive parts. 9/10

How to Enjoy Being a Lone Eater

This time last month, I would look over and pity those sad lost souls staring into their plate on their tiny little table in the corner, half-removed of cutlery and placemats as the vacant waitress asked the dreaded question – will someone be joining you tonight, sir? 

A lonely existence

Feet tapping, going through year-old texts from their sister, the lone eater alternates between perusing the Sport pages for the millionth time and frantically searching for free wifi. In a vain attempt to retain dignity, he keeps his tie on and orders the expensive wine – but the clientele and staff aren’t fooled. These men think they’re creating the impression that the Japanese stock market is falling apart without them, but everyone else knows the miserable truth: they’re going through one of the worst experiences of the 21^st century.

And now I have joined them.

With job interviews across the country over the past fortnight, I have become a regular lone eater, and now I have experienced the sheer terror of the boredom, awkwardness and strong sense of inadequacy, I thought I would write a short list to help similar condemned folk who may find themselves in this horrific situation for the first time.

I. Take care with your choice of restaurant

The local Wetherspoons on a Friday night isn’t a good idea. The quiet, if slightly more expensive Italian round the corner is. If you’re thinking rural, the local village alehouse that has been in the same family for 7,000 years should also be avoided – you’ll end up accidentally sitting in Jeff’s seat, and Jeff doesn’t like it when people sit in his seat, and being sneered at by locals who are deeply mistrustful of anyone from the next village, let alone the other side of the country. It kills me to say it, but the lone eater is much better off at the ghastly - but crucially non-judgemental and peaceful - gastropub on the A road.

II. Find a place with free wifi

So you can check your facebook every 30 seconds for the next hour. One of life’s greatest mysteries is why this still never really gets boring.

III. Take something to read

The most important advice – a book is preferable, but a magazine will do. Last week I went into an Italian in Manchester having made the ultimate mistake of forgetting reading material. You can only read the menu so many times, so as soon as I realised I promptly left in search of a newsagents, returning ten minutes later clutching a copy of Private Eye. I subsequently spent a very happy hour eating overpriced pizza and being rudely ignored by Giuseppe and Luigi. You may feel it’s bad manners to spread the inner sanctum of Nuts or Zoo over your table, but who cares? You’re only going to be here once, and the kids on the next table have almost definitely seen it in the playground anyway. 

He might not be pretty, but he is very tasty

IV. Try some fancy food

Remember, you’re not a skint student borrowing off your parents hoping for a place on a graduate scheme, you’re a highly cultured businessman waiting for the next flight to Frankfurt. Those texts you’re sending aren’t to your friends trying to arrange a few pints later, they’re to the American trade envoy who just can’t manage without you. This kind of person doesn’t go for the burger and chips – he goes for the unicorn veal served with a lettuce leaf grown in the lost city of Atlantis. In London recently I tried clay-baked monkfish, which was presented to me to sniff before cooking. There were audible gasps of admiration from fellow diners as a convoy of waiters bought the contraption before me, and I had a quick glimpse of what it must have been like to be Julius Caesar. I think I saw a couple of women faint at the sight.

V. Read the menu very, very carefully

Although my monkfish turned out to be brilliant, it added £6 to my £10 set-menu bill, as did the cheese board (which surely misses the point of a set-menu?). I had failed to notice this originally, obviously being pre-occupied with solving the Greek financial crisis, and ended up forking out £26 for lunch. Whilst I would happily pay this not-exactly-enormous sum for a long dinner with lots of friends and several gins, it did seem slightly extortionate, to say the least, for a quick lunch by myself before catching the train.

Following these points can turn a miserable, awkward experience into one vaguely enjoyable and reasonable. The main feature of visiting a restaurant is socialising, which is obviously lacking here no matter how hard you try to chat to the waitresses, but you can get a surprising amount done over a meal with yourself – whether it be going through notes, reading a book, browsing the internet, gathering your thoughts or, in my case, sat here alone in Piccadilly Station’s Balcony Bar, writing a blog about how to enjoy being a lone eater.

Why Not Watching the Women's World Cup Doesn't Make You a Sexist Idiot

The Women’s World Cup kicks off in Germany tomorrow. Cue dozens of columnists, frightened to death of the Andy Gray treatment, insisting that really, women’s football is brilliant, much better than men’s - and the spoilt, careless, disgraceful men could learn much from our brave lionesses. Anyone who disagrees is a knuckle-dragging cave dweller who should be ostracised from society.

Luckily, I’m in no danger of being sacked by Rupert Murdoch, so I can reveal the Inconvenient Truth – women’s football isn’t very good. It’s unfortunate but it’s true. The quality is typically dire, the crowds embarrassing, and everything from the punditry to the handshakes deeply inferior to the male game.

I’m obviously not saying that the fairer sex shouldn’t play football (just want to make that clear) – merely that the guilt-tripping, patronising newspaper features which have surfaced over the past few days are unfair to both sexes. Men shouldn’t be criticised for not watching an inarguably lesser, slower version of what they’re used to, just as most wouldn’t go and watch an under 10s league, and professional female footballers don’t need their heads patted whilst being told that it’s nice that they’re trying so hard.

The oracle of women's football

The Ladies Day theme continues, sadly without exotic hats, with female pundits, commentators and writers roped in with a fringe male chaperone. At the last World Cup this was Gavin Peacock, before he found God and joined that most equal-rights of employers – the Church. It’s all a bit forced, and other than the excellent Gabby Logan, the contributors’ clear lack of experience grates. 

Tadcaster Albion's famous Kop end

I went to a Women’s Premier League game once, Liverpool against Leeds if you really want to know, played at the home of Tadcaster Albion. The girls enjoyed themselves and so did we and that’s the main thing (have a pat on the head), but the standard of play, especially the goalkeepers, was eye-opening. Most shots hit hard enough to cross the line (and that wasn’t a given) went in, with goal kicks struggling to reach the centre circle. This isn’t mockery or sexism – it’s a statement of fact. And the main reason why the sport remains so unpopular in Britain. A special mention to England international Sue Smith here, who was an articulate pleasure to speak to after the game – the spoilt, disgraceful men could learn a thing or two from this brave lioness.

Sue Smith

Anyway, I probably will watch the England games if I’m free, just as I will watch any international sport, and so will a slowly increasing fanbase. The semi-professional Women’s Super League, introduced this year and played over the summer, is a fresh attempt to bring the sport into the mainstream, and the Germans have sold an impressive 80% of World Cup tickets – the final held at the 51,500 seat home of Eintracht Frankfurt. Everyone hopes for its success, and with England fifth favourites at 20/1, progression in the tournament could give the game a new lease of life in the UK.

Apparently tactics and strategies play a more important role in the female game, and this is all very good, but only the most cagouley of anoraks will tune into a game just to see Hope Powell’s flowing 4-3-3 formation. The technique and finesse is there, in small doses, but the lack of pace, power and yes, aggression, simply makes the women’s game dull to watch, once the novelty wears off. The quality of the football, even at this very highest of levels, will be blatantly substandard to what we saw in South Africa last year. And this, rather than any remote semblance of sexism, is why many football fans won’t bother watching it.  

Joe Hart and 21 Others (Part Three)

You can find Part One here, and Part Two here...

Now, after scouring many different levels of football from Shawbury United to Barcelona, just two players remain. In true football programme spirit, the first of those has ‘Played for both clubs!’: Ramon Calliste, who rather hilariously was named the 87^th best young footballer in the world by Spanish magazine Don Balon in 2001 – a list which also put Djibril Cissé top and Jermaine Pennant 5^th. Kaká is 95^th.  Calliste was discarded by United and then Liverpool and Scunthorpe, and was at Cambridge City when Paul Simpson offered him a trial in January 2009. This didn’t lead anywhere, and as Calliste afterwards tried his luck at Lincoln, Town signed goal-machine and fan-favourite Jamie Cureton on loan. Or something like that. Calliste has since disappeared from the football world.

All better than Kaká

Perhaps the most unusual career of any player featuring in this match is that of Ben Collett. A promising midfielder who scored in the aforementioned FA Youth Cup final in 2003, Collett won the Jimmy Murphy Young Player of the Year trophy that season, following in the footsteps of Ryan Giggs, Paul Scholes, Phil Neville, and of course John Curtis and Ronnie Wallwork. Recent winners include Danny Welbeck, Giuseppe Rossi and Federico Macheda. 

Just a week after the cup final, United’s reserves played Middlesbrough’s, when a crippling tackle from Boro midfielder Gary Smith destroyed Collett’s leg. Collett never properly recovered, playing a few non-descript reserve matches such as this one against Shrewsbury and having brief spells in New Zealand and the Dutch second division, and ultimately the tackle ended his career. A three month court battle finished in August 2008 with a £4.5m payout following testimonies from Gary Neville, Brian McClair, Howard Wilkinson and Sir Alex Ferguson, who described Collett as showing “fantastic focus, a great attitude to work hard and they are qualities to give any player an outstanding chance in the game."

Collett has been lucky to be rewarded with such a handsome payout, but the court accounted for a relatively small £13,000 weekly wage until the age of 35. If he had progressed to the England side and the Man United first team, he would surely be earning more than sixty or seventy thousand per week now, still only 26. It is of course difficult to predict his career – going back to the previous winners of the Jimmy Murphy award he could have been a Paul Scholes or a Ronnie Wallwork. Either way, it’s always a shame when a young talent gets so unfairly extinguished, and no one will ever know what might have been. Following the hearing, with the judge praising his intelligence and commitment, Collett went on to study English at the University of Leeds, where he has probably had to spend three years thinking up excuses to avoid buying every round of drinks.

To the game itself!

With Ross Stephens taking Ryan Lowe’s place on the left wing, town lined up in a 3-5-2 formation. Joe Hart, at 17 years old, had a couple of dodgy early moments in the Town goal and a sliced clearance led to a corner from which Gerard Piqué beat Jamie Tolley to nod in for an early lead. After some Town pressure, Tolley equalised on 23 minutes with a fine low drive before putting in Ross Stephens, who spurned the chance to put Town ahead.

On the half hour mark, Dave Edwards suffered a knock and was replaced by Marco Adaggio. The United contingent panicked as they tried to create a plan to stop this skilled maestro, probably using tactics the first team had been working on to stop Thierry Henry.  It paid off as five minutes later Colin Heath nodded home a David Poole cross from close range.

Shortly after the break Jake Sedgemore committed the cardinal lower-league sin of thinking rather than hoofing as he tried to play one of those fancy Dan offside traps, which obviously failed and Heath ran through to score his second underneath Hart. There were no mistakes on the hour mark though as Ramon Calliste scored with a brilliant solo effort to put United 4-1 up with the game effectively over. A fifth soon followed as Heath turned creator, sliding in Mads Timm to put the icing on the cake.

With the pressure off for both teams, Town finally got into the game with Tolley and Adaggio, the United defence probably realising that he’s not Ronaldinho, doing well to create space but missing chances. Tolley was involved in Town’s consolation however as his thunderous strike came back off the crossbar for Robert Eggington to tap in.

A crowd of 822 watched United win 5-2, a huge total for a reserve fixture. I’ve not checked, but I would be surprised if there has ever been a higher attendance for a reserve game at Town, in recent times at least – although thousands did go to the Buck’s Head a few years ago to watch Steven Gerrard come back from injury against Wolves Reserves.

In the return fixture at Hyde United’s ground in January 2005, Town lost 3-0 to a United side including Giuseppe Rossi, who scored, and future Town midfielder Steven Hogg. David Fox and another from Ramon Calliste completed the scoring. United rather predictably won the Pontins League that season from Carlisle and Blackpool, with Town languishing in 10^th, taking 21 points from 22 games in the 12 team league.

	pld	w	d	l	f	a	pts
1. Manchester United	22	14	5	3	49	28	47
2. Carlisle United	22	13	3	6	43	36	42
3. Blackpool	22	12	4	6	34	21	40
4. Oldham Athletic	22	12	3	7	48	34	39
5. Bury	22	10	7	5	30	23	37
6. Macclesfield Town	22	8	7	7	31	27	31
7. Burnley	22	5	11	6	24	21	26
8. Chester City	22	7	3	12	25	37	24
9. Stockport County	22	5	7	10	28	37	22
10. Shrewsbury Town	22	5	6	11	25	31	21
11. Rochdale	22	4	6	12	23	38	18
12. Wrexham	22	6	0	16	27	54	18

Reserve football has many cons and few pros, but the sheer variation in quality, reputation and experience of players even on the same team is unmatched anywhere else in the sport. Only fans of obscure football trivia could argue against Graham Turner’s withdrawal of a proper reserve side for Shrewsbury this season, in favour of ad-hoc games against local opposition with similar requirements. The benefits of a guaranteed standard of playing surface, reduced travel and no obligation to field a side each week outweigh the chance of the supposed competitive football which in reality, reserve fixtures don’t really provide.

So, from the players taking to the pitch that night at Gay Meadow, some are now managers, a couple grace the Premier League, some play at the very foot of the English pyramid, one plays in front of 90,000 adoring Catalans at the Nou Camp, one has an English degree and a presumably very comfortable student lifestyle, some play abroad, four for their country, and a couple have sunk without trace. Clubs ranging from Deeping Rangers to Barcelona are represented, with payment from a fiver for expenses to £100,000 per week. But thanks to the quirky and underappreciated nature of second-string football, they all shared the same turf that one night in 2004.

Joe Hart and 21 Others (Part Two)

For Part One please click here

There were three other continental players lining up for United – Mads Timm, Markus Neumayr and the one and only Floribert N’Galula. Whilst no constituent of this exotic triumvirate made the grade at Old Trafford, all forged professional careers of some descripton: German midfielder Neumayr currently graces the Swiss Premier League with FC Thun and Mads Timm retired in 2009 after an injury struck few seasons in his Danish homeland, nevertheless being called up for Denmark (without playing) after impressive performances for Odense BK (coincidentally the home of another United reject, Eric Djemba-Djemba). Belgian midfielder N’Galula plays in the Finnish Premier League for Turun Palloseura, home of Football Manager hero Mika Ääritalo, after an ill-fated month-long spell for DC United in the MLS proved fruitless.

Our tour of the more obscure leagues in Europe continues with another trip to Denmark, where, as mentioned at the start, two of our own ply their footballing trade. Their travel itinerary shown above, left back Adam Eckersley and centre half Mark Howard are big successes for AGF Aarhus, with Mark being voted player of the season in 2011 as AGF were crowned champions of the Danish First Division. Whilst neither of the Salford lads made an impression at United, credit to them for gambling on success abroad when countless others, including several in this match, have instead been happy to settle for a lower level English club.

Those middling players of varying quality who, whilst not qualifying as a success on the Hart/Piqué scale, have forged accomplished and, to the rest of us at least, lucrative careers in the lower leagues include former England U21 and Cardiff City ‘keeper Tom Heaton and Ipswich winger Lee Martin, both of whom are established Championship players. Aged 25 and 24 respectively, both players still have much chance to play regularly in the Premier League – Heaton especially, accounting for the dearth of English goalkeepers at present. 

Moving down the leagues, Ritchie Jones is currently available on a free after a successful spell in midfield for Oldham, as is winger David Poole following Stockport’s relegation. Both however have played more than 100 games in the Football League, which is more that can be said of Colin Heath, a striker who spent six years as a non-playing professional at Old Trafford followed by mediocre performances for Chesterfield, Macclesfield, and finally Farsley Celtic before an early retirement. Still, this practically makes him Pelé when compared to sub ‘keeper Lee Crockett, currently in nets for Deeping Rangers (whose ground is shown above, next to Old Trafford for comparison), in the Hereward Teamwear United Counties League - five divisions below the Football League.

Around this period, United ran two reserve teams – the one featuring here in the Pontins Holiday League, and another in the FA Premier Reserve League North. The Pontins team was dropped not long after this season, and as a result many of these players sadly found their development stunted by a dramatic decrease of playing time.

Of the Town regulars, Ryan Lowe spent last season scoring 27 goals to fire Bury to League One, being trusted by Alan Knill and Richie Barker in a way he sadly never really experienced at Shrewsbury. However, this is fairly irrelevant here since Lowe didn’t actually feature in this reserve fixture – a late, post-teamsheet-printing change of heart brought in Ross Stephens, a left sided player who had some involvement in the first team before naturally moving to the Welsh Premier League where he is something of a club whore – at the time of writing, Prestatyn Town are his sixth club in the division.

Utility man Jake Sedgemore plays at Nantwich Town under the co-stewardship of two ex-Town teammates, Kevin Street and Darren Tinson (above), whilst Dave Ridler is player manager at Prescot Cables playing a division below. Jamie Tolley, who like reality television seems to have been around forever, is incredibly still just 28 and playing for Wrexham in the Conference, whilst Dave Walton, a true Town hero after his first successful spell in the mid 1990s, was forced to retire at the end of 2005 as a knee injury ruined his Indian summer. 

Former League Cup finalist Martin O’Connor, playing in the twilight of his career, had a final few games for Kidderminster in 2005 before assisting Chris Hutchings in the destruction of Walsall. In 2000 the balance of internationals in this match may have been swung to Town’s favour as the Cayman Islands sneakily tried to exploit their status as a British Overseas Territory by simply calling up British players such as O’Connor, who, along with others of emphatically non-Cayman heritage, played a friendly against DC United before FIFA stepped in and made possibly their only logical decision of the decade in disallowing it.

As it stands, the international count is critically level – along with Piqué and Hart each side provides a home-nations regular, both of whom seem stuck in that purgatory gap between the Premier League and the Championship. 

Paul McShane starred in the Championship for West Brom in 2006/07, winning his first Irish caps that season, before earning a move to the big time with Sunderland paying £1.5m for the defender as he became another disciple of Roy Keane’s beard. McShane didn’t set the world alight at the Stadium of Light though as the following summer he moved again to newly-promoted Hull City, initially on loan, and took part in Phil Brown’s famous sit-down teamtalk at Eastlands – a move which quite impressively ruined Hull’s entire season after what had been a good start at that point. Tellingly, McShane returned to Sunderland in January and Hull escaped relegation, before signing permanently that summer. After which Hull were promptly relegated. 

Out of all of United’s famous FA Youth Cup victories, their 2003 triumph over Middlesbrough was probably the most underwhelming. No member of that team remains at Old Trafford, with Kieran Richardson and Chris Eagles having the most success for the first team, which tells you all you need to know (although Phil Bardsley and Sylvan Ebanks-Blake have proved moderately successful elsewhere). McShane, Timm and Collett started that final, with Heaton, Howard, Calliste and Poole on the bench – and ex-Shrewsbury loanee Lee Lawrence at left-back. Sadly for many of the players in United’s side that day, it represented the only highlight of their entire football career – although on the losing side, Ross Turnbull, David Wheater, Andrew Taylor, Chris Brunt and James Morrison all started.

Perhaps the most pleasantly surprising success from a Shrewsbury perspective has been Dave Edwards. Whilst Joe Hart was always clearly talented, it wouldn’t be impolite to state that many Town fans considered Dave Edwards, especially alongside his partner in haircuts Jamie Tolley, a bit of a luxury. Still, after Mark Atkins handed him his debut against Scunthorpe in the last game before the Conference Season, he gradually improved, and his controversial dropping by Gary Peters before the playoff final is still debated to this day. 

A tribunal-set fee of £250,000 led to a move to the struggling Luton Town, where Edwards hung around just long enough to impress in a 1-1 FA Cup draw with Liverpool and earn himself a £675,000 transfer to Wolves, where he remains. Edwards played a key part in Wolves’ promotion to the Premier League in 2008/09, but has since struggled with injuries and has not featured regularly in the top flight. A highlight this season has been scoring the winner past his old friend Joe Hart in a 2-1 win over City.

You can find Part One here. The final part, including Ramon Calliste, Ben Collett and an actual match report, is here.

Joe Hart and 21 Others (Part One)

...Or more accurately: Joe Hart, Gerard Piqué and 29 others. After reading Colin Shindler's fantastic book covering the fortunes of George Best and the 21 others who took the field in a City/United Youth Cup game in 1964, I dug out my team sheet from the day Shrewsbury Town Reserves took on Manchester United's second string in the Pontins Reserve League on 15th September 2004. 

On a warm autumnal evening, in front of a rusty Gay Meadow Centre Stand that was riotous for a reserve fixture, ran out 31 youths, journeymen, injured first-teamers and footballballing nomads - a group which in years to come would provide four internationals (including a World Cup winner), several players of varying success through the Football League, a player involved in a multi-million pound court case over the brutally premature ending of his career, and of course a significant number who have drifted helplessly through the nether regions of non-league. There are even two Englishmen who have gone against all known wisdom and taken the gamble of plying their trade abroad... albeit at the same club, presumably to have someone familiar to cuddle up to at night.

The teamsheet that day reads as follows:

Shrewsbury Town: Joe Hart, Henry Goh, Jake Sedgemore, David Ridler, David Walton, Martin O'Connor, Ryan Lowe [Ross Stephens], Jamie Tolley, Robert Eggington, David Edwards, Pedro Matias.
Subs: Damien Stevens, Gavin Cadwallader, Gary Price, Marco Adaggio, Liam Murray.

Manchester United: Tom Heaton, David Poole, Adam Eckersley, Paul McShane, Gerard Pique, Floribert N’Galula, Ramon Calliste, Richard Jones, Colin Heath, Mads Timm, Ben Collett.
Subs: Lee Martin, Lee Crockett, Markus Neumayr, Mark Howard.

From Town’s starting XI, all but Hart, Goh, Eggington, and the trialist Matías were regular first-teamers in the 2004-05 season, but as Hart has become England’s unquestioned number one and one of the first names on a Man City team sheet which looks destined for years of oil-fuelled success, Goh and Eggington have sadly fallen from the radar. Right-back Goh was signed by Aberystwyth Town in 2008 in the League of Shrewsbury Town Rejects (known as the Welsh Premier League for sponsorship reasons), but tellingly my main recollection of Henry is seeing him frequent the same under-age drinking establishments as me. Headline writers nationwide have mourned the loss of such a pun-able name from their arsenal. 

As for the striker Eggington... well... an internet search tells me he was a regular in the reserves and youth teams through that season but after that, even Google is stumped. We can only assume that he is hiding in a cave in the Stretton hills somewhere, taking turns with Richey Edwards and Lord Lucan to go for discreet night-time rides on Shergar.

Still, I can proudly boast that the name Robert Eggington does at least stir my memory, and it has to be said that with my obsession for all things Shrewsbury Town around that time this shouldn’t be surprising. As well as attending every home game and nearly all away, I took full advantage of my season ticket to watch many reserve games, and in fact anything at all that happened to be taking place at the Meadow. The pinnacle of this involved the privilege of watching the famous grudge match between Isle of Man Ladies and Shropshire Ladies, but that’s another story.

I explain this not to boast, as if there is anything to boast about spending literally all my disposable income and free time watching gutter-quality football, but to demonstrate that my failure to recall a single memory, not even a tiny small print in the programme or a mutinous mutter in the Wakeman End about any of Damien Stevens, Liam Murray or Gary Price does not bode well for their particular football careers. However, it turns out that the internet is actually a slightly more effective search tool than my memory, and I can report that Stevens is now Shawbury United’s number one, Price is a rock in Hanwood United’s defence, and Liam Murray is a regular for AFC Telford, the traditional feeder club for the League of Shrewsbury Town Rejects.

As for for Town’s remaining benched starlets: Marco Adaggio (above), who as we all used to sing was better than Baggio, suffered from that long held disease of having a fancy foreign sounding name – we all thought he was a continental wonderkid who had slipped through the net at Barcelona and miraculously ended up at Gay Meadow. Everybody was sure he would dazzle Division Three for a season or so before being sold to AC Milan for £10m. As it happened, he made 10 fruitless appearances, all off the bench, before slinking down the leagues where more fans could get excited about his name before being disappointed. Marco now plays for Stafford Rangers, where he seems quite popular, but as Roberto Baggio was playing in the World Cup by his age (23), this does seem a bit of a letdown.  

 

If the Tolleys are the Kennedys of the Shropshire football scene, the Cadwalladers are definitely the Milibands and the last of our substitutes, Gavin Cadwallader, actually made two underwhelming first team league appearances for Town. More significant however is that at the age of 25, whilst still playing in Wales (obviously), Gavin has become a youth coach for Town, a very sensible and commendable move which will surely prolong his career in the game much further than many of his more successful playing peers. Mark Cadwallader, incidentally, most recently played with the mighty Neil Sorvil for Northwich Victoria. Lucky man.

The trialist on show that night is where the continental connection begins. Pedro Matías actually began his career at Real Madrid, playing three seasons for their B team in the mid 1990s before becoming a journeyman first in the Segunda, and then the lower English leagues, notably becoming a cult hero at Walsall. Pedro must have been slightly peeved that one of the handful of opportunities he had to prove himself at Town before professional retirement pitted him directly against a certain fellow countryman...

Gerard Piqué had just signed for Man United from Barcelona using the same legal loophole that Arsenal used for Cesc Fabregas, amongst many others. As a promising defender he made 23 appearances over four years for United, generally being too good to send out on loan (except to Real Zaragoza in 2006) but too raw to displace Nemanja Vidic and Rio Ferdinand. 

An amicable return home followed in 2008 for the now-ridiculously low fee of £5m, and three seasons later Piqué has formed a partnership with Carles Puyol for both club and country, creating the bedrock of arguably the greatest club football team of all time. Piqué has added a World Cup winners’ medal and Shakira to the ten competitions he has won playing for his boyhood heroes, earning in a week what most people earn in three or four years. It’s alright for some. But on one night in 2004, he shared Gay Meadow turf with the mysterious lesser-spotted Robert Eggington.

Part Two, which includes the fortunes of Dave Edwards, Paul McShane and many others across Europe can be found here

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