Midweek Sport - - NEWS -

might be f*ck­ing us over roy­ally here in news­pa­pers, but you just can’t ig­nore it. I speak of the in­ter­net.

The on-tap porn drip. The de­stroyer of re­la­tion­ships. The match­maker of fat exes. And the plat­form for drool­ing knuck­le­drag­gers who call them­selves foot­ball fans.

With a stun­ning lack of self­aware­ness, these peo­ple sit them­selves in front of key­boards and pro­ceed to de­liver a stream of SHIT dur­ing TV matches that would ri­val your lo­cal sewage farm af­ter an epi­demic of di­ar­rhoea.

Bill Shankly once said: “Foot­ball is a sim­ple game com­pli­cated by id­iots.”

Now foot­ball is a sim­ple game watched by id­iots.

For these peo­ple it’s easy to be an ex­pert. All you need to do is sit up all night play­ing Foot­ball Man­ager for weeks on end and – ta-da – you know more than REAL man­agers who have de­voted their life to the sport. Men who have kicked a ball for a liv­ing and seen the in­side of a sta­dium.

Kenny Dal­glish, one of the best play­ers to grace the An­field turf, win­ner of four league ti­tles as a man­ager, loses two games in a row with work-in-progress Liver­pool. Shit hap­pens.

Spurs are a good side, Stoke are no mugs – no-one rolls over in the Premier League. You know that, I know that. But in­ter­net drib­bler?

It’s be­yond him. He wants the axe swung. Long-term? What’s that? It’s my 90 min­utes and I want suc­cess now. So him and his day­light-avoid­ing mates take to Twit­ter and abuse Dal­glish di­rect (he’s down with the kids, he’s got an ac­count on there).

In be­tween throw­ing rocks at the moon and au­di­tion­ing for X-Fac­tor, they tell him he’s “shit”, “clue­less” and “he should be sacked”.

Other – nor­mal – peo­ple slam the slack jaws. Then they be­come the tar­get for desk-dwelling hard­men who can’t make a fist due to the early on­set of RSI.

Here’s a gen­uine, unedited, tweet, to prove the point: “I for 1 sent vile abuse to kunt kenny. He’s not good enough, never was. All true lfc fans need to abuse him so he leaves.”

If Dal­glish wins a cou­ple of games, these same peo­ple won’t think twice about re­turn­ing to the in­ter­net to call him the great­est thing since sliced bread. That’s if they eat bread. They could well be full up af­ter drink­ing their own bath water.

crea­tures emerged to mock Fer­nando Tor­res. OK, the Spa­niard man­aged a miss at Old Traf­ford that has knocked Ron­nie Rosenthal off the top of the blooper chart.

But these peo­ple – ear­lier prais­ing Tor­res for his goal IN THE SAME GAME – were now slam­ming him like he’d com­mit­ted a war crime.

It’s not like he missed on pur­pose, is it? And for all that has been writ­ten about the £50m Chelsea striker, he DOES know where the net is. You don’t turn up in Eng­land and score 33 goals in your first sea­son if you’re “shite”.

And the hunch­backed crispy pan­cake ad­dicts who tear apart Tor­res while tak­ing in an­other tank of Tizer, they’d have scored it, right?

For many of them, kick­ing a ball is about as likely as them get­ting a glimpse of their knobs.

But Tor­res will score goals and Kenny Dal­glish will re­main boss of Liver­pool.

Be­cause, thank­fully, there’s enough peo­ple in foot­ball who live in the real world.


FLOORED: Tor­res af­ter THAT miss

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