No flies on Fergie
GEOFF Shreeves spots the tiniest of opportunities to make his move on Alex Ferguson at the end of a wonderful night in Rome.
GEOFF Shreeves spots the tiniest of opportunities to make his move on Alex Ferguson at the end of a wonderful night in Rome.
THEY may well be a nation of Tetley’s-thieving bastards with lager they’d only cook with if they were capable of preparing a single dish of culinary note, but centuries spent staring into dancing flame on dark winter nights means that the Danes know a bloody good yarn when the hear one.
After our old friend Schützei had welcomed them to Salzburg, their cameras returned to hear a familiar tale about a rich man who bought an expensive new outfit that would separate the clever from the stupid.
Dieter Mateschitz’s intention upon purchase of Austria Salzburg in 2005 was to see his rebranded club compete regularly in the Champions League. Come next season, the chances are that he’ll find himself, once again, with nothing on.

As long as Austria Salzburg’s progress befits their fans’ inspirational drone, it’s that little bit easier for supporters of the club whose history, colours and tradition Red Bull binned to remain sanguine in the face of the local firm’s arrogance.
Once the formality of defeating Adnet on Saturday was realised, their most gruelling season yet got its fairy tale ending with two games to spare. Fans lit the celebratory fuse, and talismanic centre-forward Oliver Trappl rocked the mic before seeing in a third successive league title the only way he knows how.
Prost!
HE’S got a lot to answer for, has that bloody Pete Winkelman. Had he not relocated, renamed and rebadged hard-up Wimbledon to Milton Keynes in 2002, there would have been no need for its fan led off-shoot, meaning supporters of Austria Salzburg might have embraced the stench of Red Bull’s Pepé Le Pew-style advances on their club and this blog, dear reader, might never have existed.
Also, had his “footballing frenzy waiting to happen” not staged the final act in a month of defeats for Gary McAllister’s Beckfordless line-ups, Leeds United’s path may have differed from the one that has the potential for us to sink our hat-pin of history into his ballooning bastard brainchild.
Play off pain for MK would leave the protection of just a single division from AFC Wimbledon. Their footsteps may not yet be audible to Bundesliga leaders Red Bull, but Austria Salzburg are also marching on their oppressors with quickening pace.

Despite the necessity to squeeze in the odd midweek match (die Englische Woche, they call it), form since the winter break has been nothing short of what we’ve come to expect. Berndorf and Oberhofen were mercilessly thrashed by seven and nine goals, and two was all it took to snuff out Kuchl’s challenge before a last-minute third nicked a slapstick affair fit for Plainfeld’s shambolic surroundings.
Last weekend’s retributional 5-1 flailing of Bürmoos – the only side to inflict them with defeat this season – means that when second-placed Grünau visit on the final day in four games’ time, the odds are that a third successive title trophy will be brimming with cold Stiegl and draped once more in violet and white.