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Becks to the future

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Robbo Robson | 11:16 UK time, Tuesday, 16 March 2010

Whoopee! I've won the Blue Bell sweepstake for next Premier League manager to bite the bust.

Frankly, Messrs Mancini and Benitez had me worried. (But then again they say sacking Rafa will cost Liverpool 16 million quid. Talk about the price of failure.)

Mind, if I lived in East Yorkshire, I'd be steering well clear of the karaoke bars of Humberside for the next couple of weekends. Phil Brown will be bagging the mike for an all-night gig or two, no doubt covering some of his favourite tracks:

'Vennegoor-ing Gets Tough', 'Butt out of Hull' and, of course, the one-hit wonder which may well have been recorded by his Dad - The Crazy World of Arnold Brown's 'Fire' (featuring the line 'I was the God of Hullfire and I've been... Fired!')
Phil Brown"And don't forget the pepperoni!"

The Crazy World of Phil Brown has dimmed a fair bit this season. The Madonna mike still clings to his face like he's going to burst into some sort of TV evangelist's monologue. I expect when he gives a team talk with that thing on, there's an announcement before it that says 'this tongue-lashing may be recorded for training purposes'.

You can't deny that Brown's a colourful character, mind. And that colour is orange. Although I've sensed that Brown's been looking less tangerine this year - a kind of Tango light if you will - and that can only be down to the pressure of his situation.

It can't help him to have his senior pros duffing each other up by the Humber Bridge. Rumours that, after the 5-1 thrashing at Goodison, Barmby and Bullard were fighting to be the first to throw themselves off are cruel and unfair.

It only seems like minutes since Bully Beef's nephew, Dean Windass, looking for all the world like a 1996 Gazza in a fat suit, put City into the Premier League for the first time ever.

It seems like seconds since Geovanni was smashing in winners at the Emirates and Hull City were top four material. Dreamy days for the Tigers fans. The usual naysayers and doom-mongers were saying it couldn't last. 'You never knerr!' said the Hull-ites in accents as flat as the countryside.

But of course, it didn't last. Hull scraped through the season thanks to the combined ineptitude of the Geordie Bottlers and my beloved Muddlesbrough [sic] and we've had to wait until this year to see 'em go down instead.

I've no idea why Hull have waited 'til now to dump the poor fella. It seemed clear his number was up when Adam Pearson returned as chairman in November last year, and sacking him now doesn't seem all that wise given there's a handful of games left for a new manager to make an impression.

It's all a bit reminiscent of the Magpies last year. What chance Pearson does what Newcastle did with Alan 'Get Me Back On The Sofa' Shearer and brings in one of them former greats of Hull City to grab the reins for the run-in, like erm... like err... I dunno, Ken 'Waggy' Wagstaff?

It's all a bit sad given the courage of Hull's backs-to-the-wall efforts against the Gunners on Saturday too - especially after George 'Don't Rock The' Boateng decided that he was Holland's answer to Joe Pesci.

I suppose the players might work harder for someone like Alan Curbishley, but the fact is the players at Hull have one considerable drawback when it comes to staying in the Premier League: they are not very good.

Along with Burnley, another team that flickered brightly and are now slowly snuffing out, they have always looked the most likely relegation candidates around. Maybe Becks'll be up for a bit of messianic work following his injury - I've always said that bit of his foot is his Achilles heel. Or tendon.
David Beckham Beckham suffers the injury that wrecked his World Cup hopes
I doubt he would have got much of a kick in South Africa, but I only wanted him in the squad as a poster boy. Me, I'd take him any road. He can still do that job and he might be able to spend some time teaching Theo Walcott, Shaun Wright-Phillips or Aaron Lennon (depending on which head-down dead-end merchant ends up going) to cross a football properly.

No doubt this'll cause the usual snipers to have a dig at the bloke 'cos of his wealth/celebrity/wife/sarongs (delete as applicable) but I've never had any doubt about Beckham's ability or work-rate.

All right, he's a bit two-paced (slow and stationary) and one-footed, but when you're a centre-forward, having him on the flank is like having flowers delivered to your door every five minutes.

And I know he's a one-trick pony. All he does he cross the ball perfectly. Yeah. Like that bloomin' greedy-guts Gerd Muller - all he did was score goals. Ha! And that Gordon Banks - why didn't he try creating a couple of chances from time to time, eh?

There'll be times during the World Cup campaign when we'll be crying out for a Becks. (Probably a crate of the stuff.) When Frank Lampard is bunting corners beyond the far stick... when Wright-Phillips hits the first man for the 43rd in 44 goes (on the other occasion he shins it into the stand)... when Gary Neville gets up off the bench as he's the only fit English full-back left in the Premier League... then you'll wish he was there.

But I say take him along. Let him do the chit-chat. Perhaps he can sweet-talk a few Fifa bigwigs for 2018 while he's there. And maybe he can attract so much attention that I won't have to read too much about every wrinkle and flaming crease in the private lives of Chelsea defenders.

Becks isn't finished with England. He's just changing his role! So take him with you, Fabio. Otherwise, ITV'll grab him to sit alongside Townsend. Eye-candy for the lasses, ear-plugs for the lads.


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