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I was pottering around the front yard on Saturday afternoon and pondering how I could trim my hedge which is over 15 feet high when I noticed a transit van trolling past very slowly. Next thing I know the van had turned around and was now parked outside my property. Out jumped a little man in white overalls and baseball cap who proceeded to shuffle tentatively down my drive.

I told myself to behave in a  nonchalant fashion as he approached me, but to be on my guard if he drew a knife, gun or paint brush. The paint brush came to mind because he had smatterings of paint on his overalls and a sign on his van indicated he did painting and too many other things to mention.

He bid me good day in broken English and proceeded to point at my driveway. Maybe I was slow on the uptake, but we were lost in translation and I was becoming very frustrated and I blurted out: “What do you want?”  He somehow cobbled a few words of English together and asked if I wanted my driveway pressure washed. That must have taken a huge effort on his part because his English was worse than my Spanish which is limited to si, gracias,  por favor and no mas ( thanks to Roberto Duran.)

I attempted to explain to him that I usually  did the job myself at which time my wife joined me and she can speak Spanish reasonably well. They exchanged pleasantries, and I was beginning to have second thoughts and blurted out again: “how much would you charge?” His eyes lit up in delight and said he could do it for $200. I then enquired when he could perform the dastardly deed and he managed to conjure up Monday at 9am. We shook hands and he left with a big smile on his face before turning around to say: “si you Monday!!”

Now, those not familiar with pressure washing, it plays havoc with your lower back if you are a reasonable height, but the little man from Honduras was too short to cut cabbage and would merely bend at the knees  to complete the job.

It rained cats and dogs on Sunday and leaves were falling like dollar bills when the stock market crashed. My wife assured me she had checked the weather forecast and the rain would ease up over the weekend. I woke up Monday morning and looked outside. Admittedly the rain had stopped but the driveway was quite wet and hundreds of leaves were stuck to the surface, and it was quite chilly. I thought to myself that surely he would not turn up in this weather.

There was no sign of the little man at 9am, but my wife said that Latinos were always late and to be patient. She was on the mark because his van pulled up outside around 9.45am. I urged her to ask him did he want to return another day when the weather improved, but he shrugged his shoulders and said he would do it.

An hour had elapsed and he was making decent progress, but suddenly I couldn’t hear the machine running. I looked out the window and he was frantically pulling at the cord on the machine and oil was trickling down the driveway from where he was standing. I stepped out of the house and asked him what was wrong. It was his turn to blurt and he said repeatedly: “oil, oil, oil……..” I let him have two bottles of my high quality oil and immediately regretted it  when he cried out: ” la maquina es basura” which translates to “the machine is trash” according to my wife.

He said to my wife in Spanish that he had only used the crappy machine twice and he looked like the sky had fallen in on him. But have no fear, Jamesy’s here. I offered him my machine and his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. My wife and I pulled the machine from out of hibernation and it started first time, purring like a Honda which it is. Only to find the nozzle on my spray gun was broken. But all was not lost when The Little Man from Honduras stepped up to the plate, and miraculously attached his gun and nozzle to my machine, international cooperation at its finest.

Following an eventful hour of extreme emotions, he was back on track  and completed the job without further interruption. It was a job well done and would have been worth every penny if he hadn’t been forced to use my machine, oil and fuel and of course my water. To make matters worse, my darling wife gave him a tip, and in doing so made one little man from Honduras very happy.

It’s true what they say. Life can be jogging along quite nicely with very little drama or disruption and then unexpectedly from out of left field, boom! I had been experiencing some mild chest pains for some time, but they were inconsistent. Then last Tuesday I was having dizzy spells and I lost my balance a few times to add insult to injury.

Following some constant nagging from my dear wife, I decided to call my medical provider, Kaiser Permanente. Most of the branches remain closed owing to COVID 19, and one has to negotiate a series of ever decreasing circles to make an appointment with one’s doctor. I was eventually put through to a nurse adviser who asked me to describe my symptoms. Twenty minutes elapsed and she announced that she arranged for me to have an evaluation at one of their Medical Centers which was open.

She then proceeded to give me instructions: ” please arrange for somebody to drive you there within the next two hours. Go to Advanced Care and collect $200, no that’s Monopoly.  Give the Receptionist your name and health care number. She will do the rest.” My wife drove and we arrived a little after 2pm, but  wasn’t allowed to come in due to the COVID 19 restrictions.

No sooner had I found a seat in the waiting room practicing social distancing and wearing a mask, I was whisked into a medical room by  a couple of nurses who took my temperature and blood pressure. Another nurse arrived shortly after, sat me in a wheelchair and transported me to the Cardiology Department. Yet another nurse directed me to a private room and asked me to remove my clothes and put on one of those ridiculous hospital gowns and lay on the bed.

The vampire nurse arrived and extracted the first of many blood samples. A very sallow looking doctor walked in and announced that I was being wheeled out for a couple of X-Rays and would be having a CT-Scan later in the afternoon. I returned to my room and was hooked up to a series of wires which were fixed to my chest. The blood pressure strap was attached to my arm and would remain there for the rest of the day and night, taking my blood pressure every twenty minutes.  Oh yes, despite my repeated protests it was confirmed I would be staying overnight for continuous observation. Did I forget to mentions the oxygen clip attached to my finger. The Vampire nurse returned and inserted a IV tube in my arm to save me from any unnecessary punishment. This would prove to be very useful the next morning.

Somewhere among these various tests I attempted to call my wife who could have been dying of heat stroke sitting outside in her car. I had no service on my phone and a nurse was kind enough to lend me a phone. Fortunately my wife was still breathing when I finally managed to get through to her, and I gave her list of essential items I needed to survive the night. She did a pitiful impression of Arnie, and said: “I’ll be back!”

Later in the afternoon with X-Rays and CT-Scan completed, a nurse  hooked my phone up with the medical center’s WIFI. I called my wife again, and  I pleaded with her to bring me some food as I had not eaten since 7.00am, and a nurse had warned me that Medical Center cuisine was barely edible. The nurses were very  considerate, but my wife was my guardian angel. She dropped off my essential supplies along with my evening meal at approximately  7pm which was delivered to me by a masked security guard. Chicken nuggets, waffle fries and diet lemonade from Chik-Fil-A had never tasted so good.

I devoured every single morsel and crumb, and attempted to settle down for a very long night. Try having forty winks with a blood pressure strap squeezing your arm every twenty minutes, wires attached to your chest, an oxygen clip attached to your finger, and an IV tube dangling from your arm. By the way I can’t sleep on my back.

Miraculously I was beginning to doze when there was a knock on the door and in walked yet another nurse who I hadn’t seen before. She wanted to take another blood sample, but because of some protocol couldn’t use the IV tube, and promptly stuck a needle in my hand to earn her share of the pickings.

I was instructed not to eat or drink anything after midnight, and I attempted to batten down the hatches for the night. Thank goodness I had my kindle to rely on because sleeping was virtually an impossibility. I did manage to doze for an hour only to be awakened by another nurse who determined my oxygen levels were low and she proceeded to place a breathing tube up my nostrils. No you will not sleep on my watch!!!

Daylight finally arrived at around 6.30, and I was informed I would be taken at 8.30 to another department and prepped for a “nuclear stress test.” The normal treadmill test was not available because of COVID 19. Upon arrival  I was required to drink a pint of water and walk continuously for twenty minutes. I was then transferred to another room and a chemical was fed into my body intravenously which simulated the treadmill test.

The only reaction I experienced was chills with goose bumps rapidly appearing on my arms. Feeling no worse for wear apart from goose bumps and having to eat peanut butter crackers, and  drink a small glass of coke to counteract the chemical circling my body, I was wheeled back to my room to await the results of my tests.

Two hours later, yet another doctor   whom I had not seen before, entered my room. She announced that all my tests had come back and were negative. The tests couldn’t find anything wrong with me. So I was prompted to say: “That’s good news, but does that mean I’m a hypochondriac?” She replied: ” No, it means we have eliminated certain issues, and you will need to arrange an appointment with your primary care doctor to discuss the next course of action.”

Twenty four hours later, almost to the minute, my wife was waiting for me outside to take me home. Watch this space for further developments.

I have been a much maligned Tottenham Hotspur supporter since 1961. It’s no coincidence that was the season that Spurs became the first team to achieve the double (league title and FA Cup) in the 20th Century. It’s almost common place now, and Manchester City went one further last season by completing the treble (Premiership, FA Cup, and League Cup.)

Spurs won the European Cup Winners Cup in 1963 and the EUFA Cup in 1972, but apart from a semi-final appearance in the European Cup (subsequently renamed the Champions League Trophy) in 1962 when they were unlucky to lose to Benfica, they hadn’t come close to winning the most prodigious Club trophy in European football.

Following their miraculous effort in the semi-final to defeat Ajax I was really geared up to watch the final against Liverpool. The Reds had also achieved a miracle by overcoming a 0-3 deficit  to squeeze past Barcelona, and the stage was set for a grand finale.

Unfortunately, the game could be summed up by one word: DIRE!!!! Spurs conceded a penalty 26 seconds from the kick off, and the score remained 1-0 until the dying minutes when Liverpool scored a second to clinch the match. Spurs had 67% of the possession in the first half but did not have on shot on goal.

Several reasons have been put forward for the lack luster performance by both teams. Neither team had kicked a ball competitively for three weeks, and perhaps it was asking too much for the drama, intensity and excitement of the semi-finals to be repeated in such a short period of time. The temperature in the Madrid stadium at kickoff was 90 degrees Fahrenheit which is not conducive for fast flowing football.

However what annoyed me more than anything was Spurs manager, Mauricio Pochetinno’s team selection. Harry Kane is admittedly one of the best strikers in the world, but he hadn’t played competitively for 8 weeks due to injury. Now there is a vast difference to being declared physically fit compared to being match fit, and common sense should have told Pochettino to leave Kane on the bench. To make room for Kane, Lucas Mora was consigned to the role of substitute despite scoring a hat trick  in the semi-final. Needless to say Liverpool’s central defender, Virgil Van Dyck had Kane in his pocket for the whole match.

Harry Wicks is a reasonable midfield player but a little out of his depth at this level. He had not played for six weeks due to injury, and unsurprisingly was anonymous. His only memorable contribution was eyeing up the blonde streaker who took a shine to him.

Both teams use wing backs as an attacking resource, and you would assume that Trippier and Rose would have the edge because they are the current England full backs. Not so. Liverpool’s Alexander-Walker and Andy Robertson were vastly superior.

Christian Eriksen is highly regarded as the Spurs playmaker. So much so that Real Madrid are keen to acquire his services. Unfortunately he failed to deliver on the big stage, and spent most of the match drifting towards the sidelines. Son Heung-Min had a wonderful season but was another Spurs regular who chose to an off day in the final. Finally we come to the enigma that is Dele Alli. A couple of seasons ago he looked world class, but has been  on a downward  spiral since the World Cup.

I don’t really understand what his role is. Okay, he’s a midfield player. But he can’t tackle and his passing is very inconsistent. He has goal scoring ability, but that  sadly has deteriorated markedly over the past twelve months. My comments on Alli could also be attributed to the Spurs team. When they are good, they are very good. But when they are not so good they are frustrating to watch. It’s all very well for Pochettino to claim they will be back next season, but I believe they blew their chance. Top teams like Manchester City, Liverpool, Barcelona, Real Madrid are reloading as I write, and Spurs will need to sign three or four quality players to compete with their rivals.

Daniel Levy, get your cheque book out!!!!

Champions League Semi-finals

Second Leg

Liverpool 4 Barcelona 0 (Liverpool win 4-3 on Aggregate.)

Ajax 2 Tottenham Hotspur 3 (3-3 on Aggregate, but Spurs go through on Away Goals)

I must confess that I did not give a second thought to  Liverpool playing Tottenham Hotspur in the final of the Champions league, particularly when Barcelona led Liverpool 3-0 on completion of the first leg of the semifinal, and Spurs lost the home leg to Ajax 0-1.

Liverpool were first up in the second leg, facing a monumental task against a team that had just clinched the Championship in Spain. The atmosphere in Anfield was at boiling point, and with apologies to clichés, would prove to be the twelfth man. Origi had been peripheral figure for most of the season, but was playing because of an injury to the Brazilian Firmino. It was Origi who opened the scoring in the 7th minute, and the score would remain at 1-0 until half time. Barcelona were leading 3-1 on aggregate with 45 minutes left.

Shortly after half time there was an unusual incident which would change the course of the game. Suarez fouled Liverpool’s fullback, Andy Robertson, who had to be helped off and was replaced by midfielder Wijnaldum. He was not known for his goal scoring, but in the course of a couple of minutes scored twice to level the tie. The Barcelona players looked stunned, and reacted as if all the energy and air had been sucked out of them. Lionel Messi, arguably the best player in the world, and captain of Barcelona appeared to be dazed and helpless to what was happening around him. It was he, and almost he alone, that tore Liverpool apart in the first leg with two terrific goals.

There was only going to be one winner now if the body language of the players was anything to go by. And it was the unsung hero once again, Origi, who scored Liverpool’s fourth following clever play and nous by full back Alexander-Arnold taking a corner kick when the Barcelona defence had turned off for a split second. At the final whistle, pandemonium broke out  with the stadium engulfed in a sea of red, and countless renditions of “You Never Walk Alone.” What a comeback!

The following night, it was Tottenham’s turn to attempt to overturn adversity, and rescue the tie on Ajax’s home turf who were leading 1-0 from the first leg. Tottenham’s only change from the first leg was to restore Son Heung-min  to the line up. He was suspended for the first leg, but had been playing really well in the absence of star striker Harry Kane, absent through injury for the past month.

The match didn’t begin very well for Spurs when they conceded a goal after 4 minutes. Worse was to follow when they conceded another, and trundled off the field at half time 0-2 down and 0-3 on aggregate. Spurs manager, Mauricio Pochettino, is not afraid to change tactics if the occasion demands, and unsurprisingly he instructed his players to introduce route 1 football, using their tall striker, Llorente, as their target man. Llorente is not the most skillful or fastest of players, but is a good header of a ball, and continued to unsettle Ajax’s central defenders.

Within a few minutes of the second half, Lucas Mora had pulled one back for Spurs. Ajax appeared to be shaken by this setback, and shortly after, Mora scored his and Tottenham’s second. In a bizarre way there are parallels to be drawn between Liverpool’s Origi and Mora. Mora had been in and out of the first team for most of the season, and in similar circumstances to Origi was only having an extended run in the first team because of injury to a star player.

Again, body language was giving the TV viewer an insight into the mindset of Ajax players. They appeared to be undecided on whether to protect their one goal lead, or go for goal which would almost certainly put them in the final. They nearly achieved the latter when they hit the post, but Spurs were able to scramble the ball away.

The score remained at 2-2 for the remainder of the second half, and time was ebbing away for Spurs while Ajax were counting the clock down. Jan Vertonghen had a glorious chance to score  nearing the end of normal time, but failed to direct his powerful header accurately. Ajax players breathed a sigh of relief and were anticipating the final whistle. However there were six minutes of injury and stoppage time added on, and in the 96th minute Lucas Mora miraculously popped up among a melee of players to complete his hat trick and level the tie 3-3. Spurs would win the tie on away goals if the score remained the same at the end of the game.

There was very little time for Ajax to react before the final whistle blew. Ajax players sunk to their knees in despair while Tottenham players were dancing a jig around the pitch. Mauricio Pochettino was on his hands and knees crying his eyes out. Spurs had achieved the impossible against all the odds. Arguably Ajax were technically the better team, but their youth and inexperience at the highest level proved to be their undoing. Spurs played with guts and grit and never gave up. Don’t get me wrong, Ajax proved they are very good team by winning the League and Cup Double in Holland, and could be a force to reckon with if they don’t hold a fire sale of their young players.

I have been a Spurs fan since 1961 when they won the Double, and were then so unlucky to lose to Benfica in the semi final of the European Cup the following season. I am so ecstatic that they have clawed their way to the Champions League Final, and I just hope that destiny has their name on the trophy. Glory, Glory, Hallelujah and the Spurs going marching on to meet Liverpool at the Bernabeu Stadium, Madrid on June 1st. Come on you Spurs!!!!!

About six weeks ago, Swansea City’s seven year flirtation with  the English Premiership  finally ended. I should be grateful for the time the Swans spent in one of the biggest leagues in the world, but the struggles over the past three seasons to remain in one of the most demanding leagues  has left a sour taste.

What happened to the free-flowing, passing, entertaining football that graced the promotion season and the first five seasons in the Premiership? What happened to the management process that was the envy of many clubs whereby they run the club in the black and never  resorted to running up  a huge debt?

Typically of the Welsh, they screwed things up when the franchise was establishing a base in the Premiership. The name of the game is greed. Huw Jenkins and his fellow cronies had made a good living from the Premiership perks and bonuses, but decided that was not enough and decided to sell a majority holding in the club t0 a couple of Americans who resembled two shifty second hand car salesmen. What possessed the club to sack a manager halfway through a season three years in a row, and expect to be successful?

But I’m getting head of myself. Let’s go back to when the Swans defeated Reading 4-2 in the Championship Playoff Final in 2011 to gain promotion to the Premiership. Brendan Rodgers was the man in charge, but it was Roberto Martinez who had laid the foundations for the “Swansea Way.”

Prior to their inaugural season in the Premiership, the Swans used the transfer window very wisely by securing the services of Danny Graham, Wayne Routledge, Michael Vorm,  Sigurdsson (on loan) and Steven Caulker (on loan). They finished a credible 11th in their first season. Unfortunately for Swansea, their success attracted attention and manager Rodgers was on his way to take charge of Liverpool.

Incredibly, the Swans hierarchy secured the services of former superstar Michael Laudrup. He had a modest record as a manager/coach, but his legendary status in the game provided contacts all over Europe. Consequently, the Swans were very busy in the transfer market bringing in Ki, Hernandez, Chico, Bartley, de Guzman, and the bargain of the century, Michu who cost a paltry 2 million and produced 22 goals in his first season. The Swans won the League Cup in February of 2013 by defeating Bradford City 5-0. The starting eleven for the final was Tremel, Rangel, Ki, Williams, Davies, Britton, De Guzman, Dyer, Hernandez, Routledge and Michu. They  finished the season impressively in 9th place, and it appeared that everything in the garden was rosy.

Prior to the start of the 2013-14 season, the Swans paid a record fee of 14 million pounds for Wilfried Bony quickly followed by the signing of Jonjo Shelvy for 5 million and Jordi Amat for 2 million. Ki appeared to be not to Laudrup’s liking and was sent out on loan to Sunderland. There were rumours that Laudrup was unsettled at the club, and in February 2014 he was sacked following a poor run of form which left the club only 2 points above the relegation zone. At the time of the decision, the team had lost six of their last 8 games.

The Swansea Board then made another surprising move in appointing player Gary Monk to succeed Laudrup as manager. Monk made a great start by guiding the team to a 3-0 win over near neighbors and arch rivals Cardiff City. He comfortably steered the club away from the relegation zone and was rewarded with a three year contract.

During Monk’s first season in charge (2014/15) the club was involved in plethora of transfer activity  with incomings and outgoings. Sigurdsson, Fernandez, Naughton, Montero, Cork, and Grimes were welcome additions for transfer fees totaling 34 million. Davies, Vorm, Chico, Hernandez, MIchu and Bony (January transfer window) left the club for  combined transfer fees of 54 million. Some would argue it was good business, but supporters felt it revealed a lack of ambition selling your top scorer, Bony who had forged a great understanding with Sigurdsson. The club finished in 8th place which proved to be a false dawn.

Prior to the beginning of the season, the club attempted to replace Bony with Gomis, Paloschi (8.5 million,) Eder (6million,) and Andre Ayew on a free transfer. Ayew apart, the new strikers were not up to the task and were subsequently moved on.  Shelvey was sold to Newcastle for 14 million to balance the books, and alarm bells should have started ringing.

In December 2015, Gary Monk previously cited as a future England manager was sacked after only one win in eleven matches. It transpired that he had lost the dressing room following some unsavory incidents off the field. Legendary former player Alan Curtis was given the role of caretaker manager until the rest of the season, only to be told a week later that the club had hired Francesco Guidolin as the new manager. The swift demise of Monk and the chaotic aftermath of finding a new manager did not inspire confidence in the club’s ownership. Chairman Huw Jenkins even flew to South America in a failed attempt to persuade former Argentine manager Bielsa to take over the hot seat.

Guidolin with considerable help from Alan Curtis guided the club to a comfortable 12th position. It was later revealed that the club had wanted Rodgers, along with former player Joe Allen, to return, but were not in a financial position to make it happen. Stalwart and captain Ashley Williams had indicated he wanted a new challenge, and was sold to Everton for 12 million. Meanwhile top scorer Andre Ayew was transferred to West Ham for a fee of 22 million. Failures, Paloschi and Eder were offloaded for a combined fee of 9 million. Ironically, super flop Eder scored the winner for Portugal in the European Championship Final.

A number of new faces were shipped in prior to the 2016/17 season:

Borja Baston (16 million,) Alfie Mawson (5 million,) Llorente  (5 million,) Jordan Ayew (5 million,) Leroy Fer (5 million,) Tom Carroll (5 million,) Martin Olsson (4 million,) Narsingh (4 million,) and Mike Van der Horn (2 million.) Apart from Baston they could have proven to be bargain buys in terms of Premiership spending. However the success of the signings proved to be very mixed as will be revealed later. In July 2016, Americans Jason Levein and Steve Kaplan purchased controlling interest in the club which proved to be a pivotal time in the future of Swansea City Football Club.

The Swans got off to another poor start to a new season, and by October Guidolin was replaced by American Bob Bradley. Naturally, there was no nepotism on display by the new American owners. I’m dripping in cynicism here. Bradley was subsequently sacked after 85 days. Guidolin  had barely been given 2 months of the new season before receiving the chop on his 61st birthday. Bradley was only able to accumulate 8 points from 11 games, 29 goals conceded and he was given a one ticket back to the US of A.

In January 2017, Paul Clement was hired as the new manager, and succeeded in dragging the club from the relegation abyss to a respectable twelfth place. Okay, this is where the quality of the management becomes very murky. In the off season, their best player, Sigurdsson was sold to Everton for 44 million. It was quite a sum of money for the club’s coffers, but the player was never adequately replaced. Sigurdsson was the club’s second top scorer and had the most assists. Not to pour oil on a burning chip pan, but top scorer Llorente was sold to Spurs for 15 million. Another key transfer that slipped under the radar was Jack Cork’s move to Burnley for 8 million.

In return, they paid 15 million for Clucas from Hull City  who had just been relegated. Former favorite Bony was brought back into the fold for 12 million. Problem was he’d barely kicked a ball in eighteen months, and one football punter claimed “his legs had gone” which proved to be spot on. The Swans also signed another Spaniard, Mesa, for 11 million who was supposedly a playmaker but proved to be totally out of his depth in the rigors of the Premiership.

The club appeared to be on a roll of one disastrous signing after another. Sanchez was signed on loan from Bayern Munich based on the recommendation of manager Paul Clement who had previously coached him at the German Club. Alongside Borja Baston, he proved to be one of the worst signings in the history of the Club. The loan signing was a misnomer because Bayern was paid 10 million for his services. Clement would later claim that “the lad was damaged goods.” Whatever!!!

In a process of an ongoing worrying trend, Clement could not repeat his excellent work from the previous season, and by Christmas the Swans were languishing once again at the wrong end of the table. He was subsequently sacked and replaced by former Sheffield Wednesday manager, Carlos Carvalhal, who had  been shown the door 10 days earlier by Wednesday.

In January 2018, Andre Ayew was brought back from West Ham for the princely sum of 20 million pounds. This proved to be yet another calamitous signing since Ayew failed to score a single goal on his return. Carvalhal initially performed like the great redeemer with impressive wins over Arsenal and Liverpool. He quickly extracted the club from the relegation zone and accumulated 33 points, but  appeared to go on the defensive which proved to be his and the club’s undoing.

The Club had reached the sixth round of the FA Cup for the first time since 1964, but didn’t put up much resistance in losing abjectly to Tottenham. This was quickly followed by an embarrassing loss to champions Manchester City where they rolled over and died. These two result were the beginning of the end, and so it proved.

Where did it all go pear shaped? Well, seven managers in seven seasons: Rodgers (left to manage Liverpool,) Laudrup (sacked,) Monk (sacked,) Guidolin (sacked,) Bradley (sacked,) Clement (sacked,) and Carvalhal (out of contract,) doesn’t engender stability. Disastrous moves in the transfer market, no matter who is responsibile, reduced the quality of the squad of players capable of competing in the Premiership. We were constantly assured that the successful under 23 team and youth academy would provide a stream of players for the first team. In reality only Joe Allen and Ben Davies made their mark only to be sold for profit.

One cannot overlook the fact that Olsson, Clucas, and Fer previously played for relegated clubs. Naughton and Carroll were fringe players at Tottenham, and Alfie Mawson was the only recent acquisition that showed true quality. Even he was raw around the edges and didn’t quite fill the void left by Ashley Williams.

I find it  ironic that a quite a number of first team players want to remain in the Premiership with other Clubs. Let me blunt here; maybe if these prima donnas had performed remotely like the premiership  players they aspire to be, the club would have not been relegated.  Fabianski was recently transferred to West Ham for 7 million, Mesa sold to Seville for 7 million, and it’s only a matter of time before the Ayew brothers, Fernandez and Mawson are out the door. Ki was a free agent at the end of the season and played like a geisha girl with one eye  on the  World Cup and the other on signing for a new club. He has recently signed a two year contract with Newcastle United. Mercifully, the boy Sanchez was last spotted on a beach in the Algarve, hopefully never to return to Sunny South Wales again.

What of the future? Well, a couple of weeks ago the Swans hired 43 year old Englishman Graham Potter as their new manager. He has spent the last seven years managing Ostersund in the Swedish League, guiding the club from relative obscurity through the lower divisions to the top of the tree. They played Arsenal in the Europa Cup last season losing 2-4 on aggregate.

The days of “Swanselona” playing free-flowing , entertaining, passing football was a distant memory during last season’s run-in as hopeful balls were pumped up to Jordan Ayew. There is hope that Potter’s arrival at the Liberty Stadium will signal a return to the total football of yesteryear. I would offer one piece of advice to the new manager. Give the  person or persons previously responsible for the disastrous recruitment programme over the past few seasons a one way ticket to Alaska.