Frederick

Tuned into the Europa League final for approximately ten minutes before I decided listening to Robbie Savage shouting in an otherwise morgue like atmosphere was probably not the best way of retaining one's sanity.

Live long enough and apparently you'll see everything including John flippin' Terry faithfully, creditably serve as an assistant to Dean Smith as Aston Villa pull of a improbable late season play-off steamroll with our recently 73rd choice keeper Jed Steer serving as a pivotal figure. I can't say I understand much of what's happened but I know I like it. Big love to @Michael* - gift wrapped an absurd goal and then you get thunder gazumped in such a manner. Must be sick to the teeth of Wembley, not to mention Charlton at Wembley.

This is the bit where Paul Lambert swoops in and brings about one hundred years of near-identical misery.

Commiserations on the Checkatrade Trophy, Michael. Not the one we all dream of winning as kids (4th place, isn't it?) but a trophy is a trophy. Been to a group game in said competition where the atmosphere was sub-anaemic, so credit to all involved for getting 85,000 there. Didn't need to guess who missed the crucial penalty, bless 'im.

I like that McLeish wears glasses now, he looks less like the thoughtful modern coach he wants to be and more like the frontman of a Devo cover band. I assume Fergie's office still issues a stock reference for the endless brigade of managerial mediocrities he gazumped for decades so hopefully he'll continue having misadventures for many years to come.

Fine, throw in a nine point deduction while you're at it.

Alex McLeish, ladies and gents.

Them begging us to allow them to play Gary Gardner against us should have been sufficient "and that's why they're Birmingham City" for a season but c'est la vie.

...AND Craig Gardner missed two sitters. What a game, eh?

I agree, for all the considerable time we get with Grayson and Coleman, we rarely get any hint of the man or the plan (except that fascinating post-season chat with CC and his wife. I believe psychiatrists will be studying that footage for a long time). The total absence of the dressing room is completely inexplicable, for goodness sake, Peter Reid wrote his own legend the day he let the cameras in! If Amazon can get Pep gnashing his teeth during a 10-0 win, then who knows what jewels we were deprived of here. In general, I found the games were (as is the modern way) overly artfully shot and the incessant slow-mo of rage spewing fans veered into fetish porn at times. I never thought I'd say this but I was hungry for more Lee Cattermole. He's a terrible player and probably best typifies the malaise and stench at the core of a declining club, but I still think he 'gets it' enough that he could, intentionally or otherwise, have revealed some key truths. It is amazing how every semi-articulate player they seemed to have eyed as some kind of anchor either goes berserk (Gibson) or is just too rubbish to keep pursuing (Jason Steele). Except the good natured, guppy fingered Dutch keeper, of course. Obviously the Lewis Grabban stuff is very interesting and the tantalising three seconds we see of Jack Rodwell after that meeting had me seething with rage. The whole thing is essential viewing and must be archived by the BFI.

I ended up bounding through the whole thing in next to no time. Probably a nightmare to cobble into episodic form, to be fair, but you can feel the editor's hand at unwelcome moments, pulling you back to something that's been hammered home pretty well already, while leaving juicy tidbits underdeveloped. Some of the fan stuff became pretty redundant (quite liked the cabbie, though) and really, how much time did we need to spend with the reserve goalie who mangled his finger? There was a bit, for instance, when Aiden McGeady was having a wee moan about Chris Coleman after the initial euphoria at his arrival had been stubbed out. Wanted a bit more of that. Also, where was John O'Shea? All we see him do is hug the tea lady after relegation, I find it hard to believe he wouldn't have been interviewed at some time during the making.

I've made it through the first four episodes, @Michael*. Come talk to me about it when you're ready.

Call me Will Young because this post is Evergreen.

PdC could never be anything other than a short, beautiful and utterly mad fling for anyone but considering Sunderland have had their universe scorched, mauled and cannoned to Uranus anyway, you have to wonder what he might have cooked up with a tad more time. The Cattermole case has shades of our Gabby. Houllier dared to tell him to stop hitting the weights and get back into being a speed demon which actually caused a minor cufuffle back in the day but he was bang on the money. All the enabler managers who peddled soft lies to him subsequently never got us anywhere and of course now he's the size of a beached whale and let me tell ya, it ain't the weights bulking him up these days.

I'll wager successive managers have looked at Cattermole as a rough diamond who, theoretically, embodies worthy virtues such as liking a tackle and being local. "The fans at least know this one's a trier, now I'll be the one to turn him into something really worth a damn" they all say, clutching their straws and handing out a new contract, ignoring all empirical evidence, all while the player stacks up a decade of tidy salary as Rome burns.

Kevin Nolan would've been a fun addition to Arsenal back in the day in a Thomas Graveson to Real Madrid kind of way. Inherently wrong but might just work except it can't possibly. And yet...of course not (but let's do it anyway). Commiserations, Michael. Hard to offer any nuggets of solace but if there's a way to keep Honeyman and Gooch then that would be a start. I suggest every Premier League owner with a team 7th or below study this catastrophe long and hard. It shouldn't happen to anyone and it shouldn't happen again but I strongly suspect it will.

Sincere congratulations to former Aston Villa player/manager/coach/Bruce Springsteen aficionado John Gregory for winning his first Indian Super League. Arguably his finest achievement since his stirring appearance as himself in Sky's action packed football soap Dream Team (we nearly signed Scott Lucas!)

Congratulations to vibrant young go getter Marky "the Sparky" Hughes for b(l)agging the Southampton job. May he continue his longstanding assault on insomnia before being replaced by Big Sam/Pulis/Pardew/Marco Silva/Roy/Moyes/Lambert/McLeish/Tim/Gary Megson/Claus Lundekvam/Paul Jewell/Felix Magath/the cameraman-father of the child Jamie Carragher spat on...Tony Adams.

Funny how a six hour round trip to watch us get mauled by a team generally regarded as hopeless quickly beats the audacity of hope out of you!

Sorry about pinching Grabban, me old son. Coleman better go into the attic and find that voodoo doll that toppled Belgium a few summers ago because he's looking a hubristic goon for knowingly throwing himself into this inferno.

All aboarrrrrd the promotion train...IF Cardiff and Fulham stop being as good as us, that is. Whooping Wolves was incredibly satisfying and a genuine mark of progress, they've humiliated us thrice in the past year but we wore them out in the second half, by the end it was getting a bit silly. I begrudge Bruce too much of the credit because we're a pretty expensive outfit that staggered for far too long but get us to the holy land of 17th in the Premier League in August and we'll all be dancing a merry jig in his honour...for about a minute.

The goals are finally coming for Scotty Hogan and I'm delighted. He's looked hapless at times, unlucky at others but he's stuck at it and the fans have stayed with him, long may it continue. The Championship has a tendency to suddenly pull the rug from under you but there's no doubt the response after Brentford has been strong (minus the FA Cup debacle).

Well, that's one way to force Ryan Giggs to attend his first Wales friendly. Makes marginally more sense than Stoke's desperate roulette spin on Paul Lambert, mind you. Micky Adams too busy?

Seems like Coleman's change of shape has controlled the tide, for the most part. One wonders if he feels he can truly rely on McGeady in such a system every game given his rather fragmented wizardry but he's a cut above when he wants to be. We were particularly diabolical at Brentford so the idea of showing up the maestro Pulis on his Boro debut seemed unfathomable. That it was a Snodgrass header that got the job done only makes it more barmy. Of course Bruce had to come out afterwards and have a tantrum.