Why Warnock's wrong about the Carling Cup and Twitter cowards get my goat plus my new tattoo

Shamoe on the managers who treat the Carling Cup as a second-class pot and claim they are glad to be out of it.

Neil Warnock, who has never won a major trophy in his life, reckons QPR are better off without the distraction of the Carling Cup after they were humbled by Rochdale.

Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he?

I was lucky enough to play in two League Cup finals for Leicester, winning one, and as a player I would not have missed them for all the world.

Ask QPR fans if they are glad they got turned over by Rochdale. Ask them if they would rather be swaying up Wembley Way for the final, as they did in 1986.

Ask their senior pros, like Paddy Kenny and Shaun Derry, if they fancy a game at Wembley before their careers are over.

I can’t help but like the fella, but I don’t think Warnock is a good enough manager at Premier League level to write off cup competitions at the drop of a hat. It’s a shortcut to Europe, for crying out loud – does new owner Tony Fernandes not want European football?

It never ceases to amaze me why managers thumb their noses at a trail which leads to Wembley and then to Europe. Isn’t that what players play the game for, what makes supporters dream?


It’s great when you take your eight year-old boy to watch United and a random fan punches you from behind!!

Shame on the ‘brave’ warrior who thinks it’s hard and cool to lamp a minor celebrity from behind when he’s taking his family for a night out at Old Trafford.

Out of courtesy, I am happy to oblige punters who stop me to ask for an autograph or a photo because I know the day will come when they won’t bother.

But I don’t know which is worse: the cowards who post insults on Twitter, from behind the anonymity of a laptop, or the sad inadequate who thought he could call me a Welsh so-and-so and give me a whack as I paused to have my picture taken with a fan.

Yes, I may have picked up 89 yellow cards in my career. And yes, I may have made a few enemies with my conduct on the pitch.

But imagine the scenes if I had punched a fan arbitrarily and without warning. I’d never be allowed to hear the end of it.


Goodbye, Armani! It's been nice having you under my skin, but it's time to update the artwork in my tattoo gallery.

Do you like my new piece of needlework?

This is the design which is replacing my Armani tattoo.


Sav's Story of the Week
Since England have completed a 4-0 whitewash of India, it is fitting that my story of the week should have a cricketing flavour.

Playing tip-and-run in the back garden, my adorable wife Sarah was taking strike against our five-year-old son, Freddie, with yours truly keeping wicket.

Although she made no effort to play a shot, Freddie’s delivery hit her bat – and when she was run out by a mile at the non-striker’s end, having made no attempt to run, the missus insisted: “But I didn’t hit the ball – the ball hit my bat.”

You will not be surprised to learn I have yet to explain the finer points of the LBW law to ’er indoors.

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