I Shouldn't Gloat...but I will

In England this past weekend, the quarterfinal matches of the F.A. Cup were played out on multiple and diverse pitches. For those of us who watched our clubs plummet out of the competition, there seemed little of interest in the fixture list which pitted a couple of championship sides against a pair of remaining Premier League squads, a lower league knockdown-drag out-back-alley style brawl, and an enticing Prem. v. Prem. game which most certainly had our own benny c fluctuating in waves of excitement and dread (that is, if his mild depression of late over the loss of a certain number 4 of the green and gold persuasion had finally abated enough for him to resume normal activity/inactivity). This last match certainly had my attention, as it pitted the bitter rivals of my beloved LFC, Manchester United, against the titans of the south coast, Portsmouth. I had everything going for me in this one, a vested interest on behalf of a buddy and a seething antipathy for their overly-glorified opposition, and at Old Trafford no less. Needless to say, but my affections were overwhelmingly in favor of Pompey, those wacky port-towners.

The game itself was a great watch, despite what so many ignorant footy-haters say about 1-0 matches that are decided late on. There were goal line clearances, superb shots followed by stunning saves, committed defensive displays (which was a bit surprising given some rather lackluster displays by the Portsmouth back line in the League), and plenty of talking points regarding refereeing decisions. In the end, Pompey snuck away victorious and based solely on the match action, the result matched the play on the pitch. This may seem overstated, as United controlled the vast majority of the game, but Pompey’s timely and steadfast defending deserved, at the very least, a clean sheet. Based on the last ditch efforts and the manner in which the Portsmouth defense continued to block shots and attacking moves, they deserved no less than a replay and instead got the bit of good fortune they needed to dispatch the Red Devils on their home pitch for the first time since 1957. The defending was such that no Man of the Match could be singled out from the back line. Instead, the match ball should be shared by Glen Johnson, Sylvain Distin, Sol Campbell, Hermann Hreidarsson, Lassana Diarra, and my favorite name to say, Papa Bouba Diop. Of course, Sulley Muntari does deserve a great bit of credit for finishing a result well earned with yet another powerful, yet coolly taken penalty. Said penalty was earned after former Red, Milan Baros, broke in on goal, only to be felled by United’s back-up keeper Tomasz Kuszczak. While I can agree that this could easily have not been called, United have always seemed to benefit from questionable decisions. For this LFC supporter, the irony and the resulting Alex Ferguson tirade/tantrum, were just too delicious for words. Congratulations to Pompey. The road to the final has been thinned.

This thinning of the top tier of the field was done by Robbie Fowler’s (known simply as God by all Liverpool supporters) new club Cardiff City, who dispatched Middlesbrough fairly competently with two splendid goals; one after some deft maneuvering and a stupendous finish by Peter Whittingham and the other from a dead ball crossed by Whittingham and headed home by Roger Johnson. And these two goals within 25 minutes after kick-off held up, as the Bluebirds sent Boro home nursing a 2-0 defeat. The others of the two Premiership sides to fall at the hands of Championship opposition were the mighty billionaires of Chelsea F.C. They, like the Reds, tumbled out of the competition at the hands of Barnsley (who shall now be known as David, slayer of GoliathS). It was a tough match on an unfavorable pitch at the home of Barnsley, Oakwell Stadium, but there were ample opportunities for the Blues to dispatch the plucky Championship outfit. Just like United however, a wealth of chances resulted in a dearth of goals and now Chelsea find themselves relegated to watching the Cup Final on the tele with the rest of the “Big Four”.

And now I must restate: THIS IS WHY THE F.A. CUP IS THE BEST DOMESTIC CUP COMPETITION IN THE WORLD.

What a great weekend.