It’s safe to say that this week it is probably a toss-up between the recently de-knighted Fred Goodwin and former England captain John Terry for the title of most hated man in Britain. In fact, thinking about it, there’s no contest. All Fred Goodwin did was bring the UK economy to its knees before trousering a pension equivalent to the GDP of your average African country, paid for by the taxpayer.  John Terry on the other hand is a c..t.

This at any rate is the consensus of opinion currently doing the rounds at the ground of every side in the English Premiership bar Stamford Bridge, where he’s considered a geezer, a top bloke – Mr Chelsea no less.

The evidence is overwhelming. First he gets caught having an affair with the partner of his former best friend and teammate Wayne Bridge at the beginning of 2010. He’s then stripped of the England captaincy for that summer’s World Cup tournament in South Africa. Not satisfied with that, midway through England’s disastrous campaign he goes rogue and holds his own press conference, during which he asserts his leadership of the squad regardless – in the process undermining the manager and fellow teammates.

Despite this the England captaincy is returned to him by Fabio Capello after the World Cup, which, in his determination to hang on to even with a pending court case for alleged racial abuse hanging over him, results in the FA being forced to step in to take it away again, thus precipitating a fall out with Capello and the Italian’s resignation as England manager.

That Fabio Capello possesses the charm of your average terminal disease and the demeanour of a man who gets his jollies torturing kittens in his spare time has been evident since his appointment to the England job back in 2009. It’s hard to understand how someone earning 6 million a year for picking a football team can look so consistently pissed off. Yet pissed of he looks and was with the decision of the FA to strip Terry of the armband.

The truth is that John Terry has come to typify everything that’s wrong in the modern game – too much money, too much arrogance, and no humility. Even the man’s haircut seems offensive.

Moroever, his alleged offence of racial abuse is as serious as it gets for someone of his profile and status, especially at a time when the EDL is attempting to foment racial and community strife the length and breadth of the country, and especially when racism as an issue returned to the news headlines recently with the welcome conviction of two of those responsible for the murder of black teenager Stephen Lawrence at a bus stop in London back in 1993.

The point is that football cannot and does not exist in isolation from the rest of society. What takes place on the pitch and in the stands both reflects events taking place in society, and at times can even reinforce and influence them.

The notion that a man waiting to be tried for this particular offence can continue to captain the national team of country that is multiethnic, multiracial, and multicultural makes no sense. Even his continued selection for the squad shouldn’t be considered under these circumstances, which if he is will ensure non-stop media speculation and the kind of attention that could only be a distraction as England head into the European Championships in the summer.

The rumour going round Twitter is that John Terry is universally reviled by his fellow Premiership and England players – perhaps with the exception of his Chelsea teammates and fellow Chelsea England squad members. Mind you, Ashley Cole is almost as hated as Terry for the way he treated ‘our Cheryl’, while Frank Lampard is not exactly revered either, though in his case it is hard to see why.

For the rest of the season, John Terry can look forward to being the inspiration behind a plethora of new chants and songs from opposing fans, none of them kind. It won’t be pretty. But then again it is John Terry we’re talking about, and public excoriation of the undeserving rich has made a welcome return.

The tragic news of the sudden death of former Welsh international footballer and current Wales manager, Gary Speed, has shocked the world of football. The outpouring of tribute from former and current players, managers, officials, and people across society in general is testament to the respect and esteem in which he was held within and without the game.

Gary enjoyed a successful club career with Leeds United, Everton, Newcastle United, Bolton Wanderers and Sheffield United, and at 42 was considered one of the most promising young managers in the game.

It is not often that a high profile death resonates so powerfully. But in the case of Gary Speed, who only yesterday appeared as a pundit on BBC’s Football Focus, it has. There will no doubt be a lot of speculation as to the cirumstances surrounding his death in the coming days, but regardless of the whys and wherefores his passing reminds us how precarious and precious life is.

“Pressure is working down the pit. Pressure is having no work at all. Pressure is trying to escape relegation on 50 shillings a week. Pressure is not the European Cup or the Championship or the Cup Final. That’s the reward.”

“Football is a simple game based on the giving and taking of passes, of controlling the ball and of making yourself available to receive a pass. It is terribly simple.”

“I want to build a team that’s invincible, so that they have to send a team from bloody Mars to beat us.”

“It’s the greatest thing in the world, natural enthusiasm. You are nothing without it.”

“They said we were predictable. Well, I think anybody who is unpredictable is a waste of time. Joe Louis was predictable. He would knock a man down on the floor. Goodbye! We were predictable, but the opposition couldn’t stop us!”

“The socialism I believe in is everybody working for the same goal and everybody having a share in the rewards. That’s how I see football, that’s how I see life.”

Bill Shankly

What on earth has happened to Fernando Torres?

Just two seasons ago he was a joy to behold, ghosting past defenders with disgraceful ease, his touch deft and sure, scoring goals from every conceivable angle and making the beautiful game seem even more beautiful.

Now it seems he couldn’t kick an arse.

Watching him last night against Man Utd in the first leg of their quarter final Champions League tie was nothing short of torture. He lost possession so frequently that Andy Townsend commentating was reduced to praising him just for running into the box. At times his first touch was so bad his second touch was a sliding tackle. And as for diving in the box, he couldn’t even get that right and ended up getting himself booked. Since arriving at Chelsea, doing so to win trophies he explained, he hasn’t scored once. For a striker playing at this level this is beyond funny.

Chelsea have shelled out fifty million quid for a donkey and Liverpool fans must be laughing their scouse heads off. Another season approaches its end and still Chelsea’s billionaire owner Roman Abramovich has yet learn that money won’t buy him the Champions League? Man Utd, who’ve hardly dazzled this season themselves, looked a class apart at times at Stamford Bridge last night; their movement, possession and cohesion leaving a decidedly unhappy Chelsea team well beaten in the end.

None of the remaining Premiership clubs in the competition will get their hands on the cup this year. None even at their best are a match for Real Madrid, and when it comes to Barcelona we really are talking different planet. In fact, there’s no doubt that over the past three seasons the centre of gravity of club football has moved from England to Spain. Madrid’s demolition of Spurs the other night followed Barcelona’s demolition of Arsenal in the previous round. In fact, watching Barcelona is to see come to life Shankly’s dictum that “football is ballet for the working class.”

Amazing to consider that when Glasgow Celtic won the European Cup in 1967, the first British club to do so it should be recalled, they did so with a team not one of whom was born further than 30 miles from Glasgow. Yet what a team the great Jock Stein amassed – Jimmy Johnstone, Bobby Lennox, Tommy Gemmell, Bertie Auld, Bobby Murdoch; the names verily trip off the tongue and every one a legend of the game.

It shouldn’t be forgotten that the Inter Milan team which Celtic faced in the final in Lisbon that year was considered almost invincible. Under the tutelage of the great Helenio Herrera, who won 16 major championships as a coach, Internazionale had perfected the Catenaccio (door bolt) defence. When first introduced back in the late forties, it involved a sweeper playing behind a flat back three. Herrera is credited with modifying the system by introducing a five man defence, four man-marking and the fifth patrolling behind the line as an extra man.

It was considered a fail safe defensive system at the time, revolutionary in both concept and design.

However, the Celtic team of 1967 were also revolutionary in their approach to the game, employing an offensive style of ‘total football’ years before the great Ajax team of the early seventies gave name to it.

Herrera’s man marking system, the bedrock of Italian football over the next three decades, was proved ineffective against a team which attacked in waves and in which every player was comfortable on the ball, employing the full backs as wing backs and overwhelming the opposition midfield and defence with speed, movement and crisp passing. When Internazionale scored from a penalty in just the 7th minute of the game in Lisbon most commentators gave Celtic little chance. Indeed, the Italians proceeded to park the bus in an attempt to strangle the game and hold on to their lead. In this regard they were the masters of Europe.

But Celtic went on to hand them a lesson in attacking football, exemplified by the fact it was Celtic left back Tommy Gemmell who scored the equaliser in the 63rd minute. The winner arrived 20 minutes later when Steve Chalmers deflected a Bobby Murdoch shot into the corner of the net.

Technically, Celtic’s historic victory proved that a perfect offensive system is superior to its defensive equivalent. Further proof of this theory has been provided by the Ajax team of the early seventies, Liverpool of the late seventies and early eighties, Man Utd and Arsenal of the late nineties, and Barcelona today.

Meanwhile, what on earth has happened to Fernando Torres?