Hooray! France, the life of the party, the entertainment kings of Euro 2008 and the swashbuckling, head-butting finalists from Germany 2006, have qualified for South Africa?

Who is as happy as me?

A side brimming with world class talent needed a deflection and a blatant piece of cheating to qualify. Football fans around the world feel empty, sick, robbed and betrayed.

The gallant Irish played all over the French over two legs.

And Thierry Henry came up with that.

The best France’s invisible captain could offer, being outshone by Le Sulk himself, Nicolas Anelka, was an imitation of Billy Slater’s tap back from Sunday’s Tri Nations Rugby League Final.

As so often is the case, the powerhouse receives that cruel, unfair and decisive piece of luck.

Le Merde. Le catastrophe. Le f***ing disgrace.

Think Fabio Grosso and Lucas Neil. Times it by 1000. That’s how bad this is.

Until FIFA remind these superstars that they are not too big for the game (or maybe they are, Didier Drogba did not have to wait long to return to Champions League action after telling the world the ref was a ‘disgrace’), the farce will continue.

And on another note, do not blame the ref entirely. He made a brave decision to deny a diving Anelka a penalty two minutes earlier, and it would have been nigh on impossible to have spotted the hand ball (ok, he could have been in a closer position). It all comes down to the cunning, dastardly piece of work by Henry – who refuses to admit the cowardice and intent of his behaviour.  It was not just a deflection, but a purposeful nudge in the right direction.

It’s a qualification with a very, very sour taste, although Henry, Domenech and their own President might deny it.

If only the game could be replayed.

Meanwhile, why were the French even in such a perilous situation? What have the French FA have been thinking, retaining Coach Raymond Domenech over the past five years? France’s performances in Germany were so insipid it was more a fluke, or the luxury of having Zinadine Zidance run the side, that they made the final.

So sure was Domenech that he would sacked, he famously proposed to his fiancée in the post-final press conference to distract from the performance, the head-butt and his future.

Somehow he survived.

Somehow, after refusing to budge from playing two dour, defensive holding midfielders who plodded around the park during a useless Euro campaign, he still survived.

And further still, despite boasting Anelka, Henry, Malouda, Benzema and Riberry, France stuttered their way to South Africa.

Now that they are there, Domenech must not rob the world of seeing these world class players in full flight. Pick Anelka and Henry up front. Let Ribery and Malouda breath. Unleash Benzema.

But its all at the expense of the poor old Irish, who dare I say today enjoyed none of the luck of the Irish.

The sultry, summer air that comes with the season’s change of weather normally comes with those confusing proclamations that black is the new red, or orange is the new white, or purple is the new pink. Buggered if I know what they’re talking about. A plain t-shirt is a plain t-shirt, no matter which way I contort it.

One thing that I do know is that this time of the season is the time for gripping world cup qualifiers, and across the Tasman, Mark Paston is the new Mark Schwarzer. And in New Zealand, the ‘All’ White is definitely the new ‘All’ Black. At least for now.

Who wasn’t off their feet cheering for the Kiwis (despite the fact that Australians should, in fact, be going for their Asian compatriots!) during the match?

The Kiwis are the unlikeliest of sides to qualify for the greatest stage on earth. And Saturday night at the Cake Tin in Wellington was New Zealand football’s seminal Date With Destiny, circa John Aloisi, November 2005. Will the Wellington Phoenix and Kiwi football enjoy a similar resurgence? Interesting times are ahead as their relationship with Asia is sorted.

But to the World Cup, and here we have a plucky, football outhouse with a team comprised primarily of A-League ‘also-rans’ (for one of a better word). They looked like the proverbial fish out of water at the Confederations Cup, and in beating Bahrain, qualified for the World Cup without beating a country with a population greater than a million.

Meanwhile, Ireland, Russia, Sweden and the Czech Republic look on enviously.

So now the question must be asked: will the All Whites make a mockery of themselves on the world stage?

Ben Sigmund failed to cope with Alex Brosque a fortnight ago. How might he cope with Lionel Messi?

Cynical, I know. And I truly hope the All Whites can be one of football’s underdog success stories. They’ll need to be plucky, well organised – they don’t have oodles of quality, and must pray for their first team to stay fit. They won’t attract mass affection for their football, but they will for their courage. None more so than their coach Ricki Herbert, who bravely fielded a side with three strikers and two out and out attack minded midfielders against Bahrain. Take note, Pim Verbeek. You can defend from the front too, if you want. If you dare.

But their team is mobile, works hard – what they lack in technical skill, they’ll make up in kilometres run and in Chris Killen, they look to have a striker that can snap a good goal. And the nucleus of their side are familiar with each other from playing week in, week out together: if they iron out their cheap mistakes and succeed, it will be a watershed moment for the A-League and the Wellington Phoenix. What about the shop window for the likes of Shane Smeltz, Leo Bertos and Michael McGlinchey? Will they be able to take their games to a new level?

The tantalising possibility of a “Tri Nations” group of South Africa, New Zealand and Australia is not beyond the realms of impossibility; throw in England too. Those matches would be something to behold.

And that brings us, briefly, to our Socceroos – courageous and professional in the Middle East, but still, so much to debate. Is Pim Verbeek seriously going to leave a player of Scott McDonald’s quality out of the squad? And is he seriously going to throw Alex Brosque on and leave him up there, all on his lonesome?

One fashionable option, given the panic about Kennedy and McDonald’s profligacy, is using Kewell up front. Not a bad option – he’s not the same left-flank whiz-kid he was, even though we all wait in hope every time he gets 1 v 1 with an opponent. These days, he is still usually a clinical finisher, a good head, intelligent mover … and most of all, moving him up front allows Pim to play all his creative big guns at once – which unlike Guus, he loves to do.

He can squeeze Wilkshere at right-back; Culina into the defensive role; and the three super-stars, Emerton, Bresciano and Cahill are all there as well.

With the 32 teams now decided, there are only a few sides that Australia should genuinely fear. The World Cup is as intriguingly fresh and open as ever, with powerful African qualifiers, a less than frightening European second-tier and a non-European tournament venue.

Verbeek has over six months to start firming on his personnel – and while Australia’s success has been built on defence, Aussie football fans will hold their breath in hope that Verbeek does not forget, like he did with the South Korea, that games are won when goals are scored. We are good enough to do it in this field.

Wake up; Watch Fox Sports News; check foxsports.com.au. Check your e-mail. Check foxsports.com.au to make sure nothing has happened in the last five minutes. Repeat process until convinced that seeing the third replay of Richmond bouncing balls around Punt Road five months before footy season is not going to help …Begin working. Decide to check work material online. Take detour past 442, the World Game, Soccernet, Football365, SMH. Shit. Get back to it. Go down to grab a bite. Is that Mel McLaughlin I hear on the TV? And so it goes on…

It’s a pretty perilous routine when you are trying to pass your final uni exams, but finally, and thankfully, my time as a uni student is up. 

And good riddance … They said One Day Cricket was dead, yet I found myself glued to the seven match series watching Punter’s young brigade show that the 50-over format is still thriving as a riveting contest. The problem, as so often the case, is the quantity, not the quality.

Then there was Spring Carnival and the Melbourne Cup – and while I find it more profitable to simply hurl cash out the window than actually punt on anyone, you feel decidedly un-Australian to do anything else but profess that Bart is the best since Bradman, or that Shocking or Viewed was carrying too much weight, saying so with the authority of someone waving a baton – the rolled-up, crinkled form guide that you’ve been studying judiciously.

It’s no way to help us work, or study! Hell, when $95 million is bet on Melbourne Cup Day, it’s productive for no one!

Gotta love Australia. “Making news today, we’re proud to announce that Australia has broken the record for the amount of money blindly, drunkenly and proudly blown on the Cup. Go us. Meanwhile, interest rates went up and unemployment is soaring. But the TAB is doing swell!”

Football, league, union [if you can bare watching it at the moment]. Breathe. Tiger Woods [apparently the sport is golf. But it’s okay just to refer to the Australian Masters as “Tiger Woods”]. And I thought it’s meant to quieten down in Summer. Love it. Bring it on.

Parramatta in the 1980’s; Canberra and then Brisbane in the 1990’s and Melbourne in the 2000’s. The Storm are now officially in the annals of the sport as one of the great modern rugby league sides.

Sentiment wanted Parramatta to win, and while the Storm was not the best side throughout 2009, they got the premiership they deserved for making four grand finals. Their experience showed.

If only it didn’t take Parramatta 70 minutes to truly believe; and if only the two referees got the call right at the crucial moment that paved the way for Inglis’ field goal.

But the result was true. Ruthless. Brutal. Clinical. Their scramble defence was breathtaking; their ability to halt Parramatta’s momentum around the play-the-ball whenever it seemed they were gaining ascendancy, and their structure and organisation was a cut above. While Mortimer looked over his shoulder and time and time again only found air, the Storm had subtlety and variation all over the park.

All the week’s talk had been about catching Eric Grothe jamming in off his wing, yet the first try came as Reddy and Grothe stayed wide waiting for the second man play, but Ryan Hoffman grabbed the pill and ran straight instead, catching Robson and Reddy out. Too good.

Inglis catches a pinpoint Cronk bomb to score while Ben Smith has his hands on his hips ball watching; Parra’s attempts to bomb are defused, with Jeff Lima hustling around the action to block any incoming runs.

Too good. Pick a one-percenter, and Melbourne have been the yardstick for 4 years.

But answer one question: how was Billy Slater man-of-the-match? He might have been the standout of the finals – but that’s not what the medal was for – and he did drop a bomb that could have handed the win to Parra.

For Parra, on the other hand, Nathan Hindmarsh has surely earned himself a Kangaroos recall. Fui Fui Moi Moi must’ve come close to winning the Clive Churchill medal and I’m struggling to think of a better grand final try this decade, including Stacey Jones (02), Pat Richards (05) and Greg Inglis (07).

But Parra lost the grand final in the first half, which flew by without them showing any semblance of the side that has stunned us over the past three months. How long will their drought continue? They should be there-or-there-about again next year, maybe without another dramatic comeback from the doldrums. Mortimer is a young, class act and they’ve signed well in the forwards, but they need to sort out who will play 7 & 9 if they release the incumbents.

Melbourne? They’re just not going to go away. They were supposed to be finished after last year’s comeback, but that nucleus is still there. And they’ll always have their cut price gems that Craig Bellamy turns into grinders, tackle machines and line busters.

And Brett Finch? Not finals material at Parramatta. But at Melbourne …

Andrew Voss might rub people the wrong way, but he knows a good statistic when he sees one.

It went something like this:

2007 – Melbourne Victory, Geelong Cats and Melbourne Storm won Australia’s sporting premierships, with the Storm beating Parramatta, Brisbane and Manly en route to the win.

2009? Melbourne Victory and Geelong Cats are already on the board, and guess who the Storm have beaten in the finals? Manly and Brisbane, with Parra to come?

Like the Cats, the Storm have the chance to write themselves into NRL history on Sunday to join the great sides in rugby league history, or go down as a side that lost 3/4 grand finals. The Roosters, despite also losing two grand finals, will probably define the first half the decade, and the Storm the latter. If they win, the decade belongs to them (even though Brisbane also won two premierships; 2000 & 2006).

But the last club to make four grand finals on the trot (1981-4) has the chance to spoil the party and do the unthinkable by winning a premiership from eighth spot.

Vossy’s statistics might be compelling, but why has everyone gone cold on Parramatta all of a sudden?

Here is a side that has only struggled against one side since mid-July (Dragons 37-0 loss) – but came out and belted them the next week – in a run that has accounted for teams 1,2,3 and 4 in the process.

The argument goes that Melbourne can nullify Parra’s pack, upon which they have more structure in the play book, and if worse comes to worse, Greg Inglis is in demoralising form out wide, and Slater wants his Aussie jersey still. They’ll run plays down the left edge to catch out Eric Grothe. Will Parramatta’s kicking game be adept enough to turn Billy Slater around?

Ricky Stuart wrote an interesting piece in The Sunday Telegraph last week. Despite the article being a very public tete-a-tete with Brett Kimmorley, he argued that hype surrounding Kimmorley’s injury masked that he doesn’t have the game to deliver another premiership.

Harsh. Returning from injury, Kimmorley would be the first to admit he didn’t reach the same click as he had been all season, so it’s rough to jump to that conclusion.

But Stuart’s point is, grand finals are not only won on defence, but by the team with an X-factor. Willie Mason, Benji Marshall, Darren Lockyer, Brett Stewart …

And look at these two grand finalists, and they are laced with super star game breakers. Hayne, Inu, Moi Moi, Mateo … Slater, Inglis, Cronk, Smith … It’s pretty evenly matched. There’s not a lot in it.

Melbourne’s watertight defence has been deemed too strong, too efficient, too mobile at the right time of the year. But let’s face it. The Broncos were meek, and so too were Manly. Parramatta aren’t one-trick ponies. They can go out wide to their blistering pace. Luke Burt and Inu are a scintillating duo. If that doesn’t work, they can burst through the ruck or torment with second phase.

I don’t know how people can forecast a whitewash.

It’s an Eels fairytale for me. And another great Sydney club rising from its slumber to reignite the sport in this part of town.

As much as anyone tries to change the face of rugby league or aussie rules as they ‘battle’ for supremacy, it loses sight that these two cities just love two different sports.

Melbourne always buzzes in the last week in September; but its feverish when St Kilda and Geelong are there, and Brisbane and Sydney are not.

It will be hard to top the emotion of last week’s Parra-Bulldogs clash.

It proves one thing – the AFL can stick their Western Sydney Woodducks in a game against the Gold Goast Gibberers out at ANZ Stadium, but they will never eat into the well-worn bloodlines that run deep through Western Sydney.

“Are you afraid,” smiled Serena, flashing her big, pearly whites at the poor, little line judge, who stood up defiantly to report the barrage she had just copped. She was just doing her job. It’s not her fault Serena put a tincy, wincy one-sixteenth of her toe on the line serving to stay in a Grand Slam.

“You’re not afraid are you,” she double-checked. How considerate.

Geezuz. I was. Every pound of Serena’s hulking frame looked destined to deliver her promise of “shoving this ball down your throat”. Shit. She would’ve blasted that poor little linesperson out of Arthur Ashe Stadium.

So Serena blames the poor, little linesperson.

John Cartwright blames the refs.

Wayne Bennet blames McIntyre, whoever he is, for inventing this crack-pot of a finals system that sends the minor premiers to Brisbane and Melbourne after they lose in round 1 (but will remain the system because the best team always wins the premiership).

Thankfully, Roger Federer blamed no one. He almost cracked it when a punter in the crowd called the ball out mid-point (correctly, mind you. The linesman must’ve still been thinking of Serena’s biceps). But ultimately, the most graceful player in the world remained gracious. He didn’t even cry, and acknowledged the better player won on the day.

Just like the Dragons should’ve. They should’ve just blamed Jarryd Hayne.

If Gasnier, Churchill and Messenger were as good as people say they were, they must’ve carved up the league like Hayne is at the moment. Now it’s his challenge. If he maintains anything near this form, he could be one of the all-time greats. Like Andrew Johns (although very different players) they aren’t one trick ponies. It’s not Hayne’s pace that makes him a cut above. Stewart, Morris, Phil Graham and plenty of others are quick. Plenty of players can kick, too. A few can set up tries at will. Most forwards can off-load. But Hayne can do all of that, on top of his handiest asset of all – no one can tackle him!

On Sunday, once you  cut through Gus’ orgasmic squealing, Rabbits waxed lyrical about the level of talent in the modern game, going on to list the magical roll call of fullback’s who currently entertain us.

He has a good point.

There was his favourite, “Billy the Kid”. Hunt, Patten, Stewart. He almost forgot Bowen. He did forget Kurt Gidley, the NSW captain. Canberra ace Josh Dugan, former number 1 Minichello weren’t even considered, and no one remembers to wrap Preston Campbell. Ever. He’s a freak, too.

About a year ago on this blog, I didn’t know how the NRL was going to survive on its ‘she’ll be right’ mentality …

Yet here we are. Its league’s defining mantra. It will just survive and continue to entertain. And thrive.

For the record, Melbourne put their hand up for another tilt at the title on the weekend, but I have a feeling the champs will come from a probable Bulldogs-Parramatta humdinger of a Preliminary Final.

One of the NRL’s good guys – Hazem or Hindmarsh – will hoist the trophy in three weeks time.

St George have shown their hand. They don’t have a plan B. That’s good enough to win a hell of a lot of matches in a sport where the premiership rounds are as much about attitude as ability. But if you can’t beat the eighth ranked team, no matter how hot they are, cop it. Not good enough.

The Bulldogs lost their compass on Saturday, but still did enough over the Knights. If Noddy is fit, as he will be according to most reports, then they are lukewarm favourites in my book.

Funnily enough, the Titans could be the team to push Parramatta. The Dragons didn’t throw enough at the Eels defence. As tough as their defence is, the Titans will move the Eels around. They’ll probe. But whether they can handle the Eels’ firepower is another question.

So it’s September. And the NRL seems to get better, more even, and more unpredictable every season.

Is it a case of being unable to differentiate more mediocre teams, spread evenly because of the salary cap? Let’s leave that for another day.

Let’s just sit back and indulge, like David Gallop probably sitting with his feat on the table, throwing darts at those who questioned the salary cap, the top-eight, and the McIntyre system. What other sport can genuinely not even make a ball-park prediction for the grand final three weeks out. Brilliant.

Don’t we love athletics in Australia! Well, sort of. For two weeks every four years at the Olympics. Or if Jana and Tamsyn get the claws out or some long-haired loony who can smoke and jump into a sand-pit at the same time comes out to entertain us.

Yet something peculiar has happened. We’re following the athletic field events at the World Champs, yet the Olympics have well and truly been and gone.

Unfortunately, so too have the Ashes, which probably explains our desperate search for sporting relevance.

So thank the lord for Steve Hooker – not only a gold medal, but his injury-plagued triumph is one of the great solo Aussie sporting achievements this decade.

Together with Dani Samuels’ discuss success, we’ve soared from somewhere in athletics exile into the athletics wilderness. And so we rejoice.

But sadly, another inquisition into another Ashes drubbing is well under way. I won’t go over borrowed ground, but I think it begs other interesting questions:

Who is Australia’s national team?

How valuable are Punter’s pretenders as Australian sporting currency?  Will the Aussie public be out in numbers to support test cricket this summer?

Unlike 2005, we haven’t just witnessed one of the greatest series of all time. In fact, our national side went down to one of the worst English sides on paper in recent memory – despite dominating the batting and bowling statistics.

Throw in Pakistan and West Indies – two unattractive touring sides – and test cricket will face one of its greatest litmus tests on these shores this summer.

While selector Merv Hughes’ nonchalant reaction to the series loss indicates the cricket hierarchy are pretty comfortable with their lot, they best beware.

People always turn up to cricket in their droves. But these days, Australian crowds are not stupid. Not only do they want to see winning sides, they want to see style.

Australia’s ranking has plummeted to a sacrilegious fourth spot.

Meanwhile, the Socceroos have gone with a bullet into the top 15 – unbelievable. You might call FIFA’s ranking hocus-pocus, but they are the official numbers and we have football luminaries like Portugal, the Czech Republic and the Ivory Coast in the chasing pack.

The once mighty cricketers and Wallabies should be looking seriously over their shoulder.

The 15-man game is in dire need of an overhaul that won’t be coming thanks to the Northern Hemisphere’s delight at what has turned into a sad impersonation of a once decent sport.

80,000 might have dragged themselves to the Bledisloe at ANZ, but the Tri Nations and Bledisloe have lost their status in the overall realm of Australian sporting interests.

I have an easy answer for those buffoons running the game: make tries worth 10 points!

If they don’t, how long until test match crowds in Australia take the same decline as Super 14 crowds?

This is arguably the most competitive sports market in the world.

A-League crowds have stubbornly hit a plateau; the Swans can’t pack the SCG anymore [new Western Sydney teams in both those codes is another issue for another day], and league, despite all the scandals, is enjoying a renaissance with crowds because the game is just so entertaining.

It’s a simple equation.

Sydney FC play long-ball, the fans won’t come. Play good football, and they will come. Unfortunately, it’s been a while since the latter.

Everyone needs to be on their toes. That includes the honchos at Cricket Australia. If they don’t lift their game, in everything from spinners to selectors and Mike Hussey to Phil Hughes, they will quickly find themselves a clear second choice to the Socceroos for Weet Bix commercials for a long while.

Finally, tanking has reached the NRL!

We’ve been missing the boat wondering for weeks if the Melbourne Demons were tanking to pip Richmond and Freo for the spoon and the pick of the draft picks.

Forget dodgy selections or above average (and that’s a lot! of) behinds being kicked.

It’s the Wests Tigers who have turned to the tank – and not of the Taniela Tuiaki variety – to get that edge as they try to finally break their final-eight hoodoo.

In the cut throat environment of NRL finals series, the Tigers have secretly had their players strutting around Concord Oval like spacemen, carrying oxygen tanks to enhance recovery from injury.

Finally, an initiative to neutralise alcohol slowing down recovery for rugby league players!

But any advantage is to be taken, especially when you’re about to come up against Jarrad Hayne this Friday night – fast becoming the most talismatic player of this next generation.

Two months ago, I walked out of the SFS after the Dragons gave the Tigers a football lesson wondering how it could’ve all gone so wrong. Bound for overseas that weekend, I could’ve sworn that by the time I came back, the Sharks and Tigers would be fighting for the right to wield that dastardly piece of willow that looks to be headed to Shark Park this season.

But Sunday’s demolition job of the poor old Sharkies catapaulted the Tigs into fifth place. You’ve got to be kidding! It’s got people (prematurely) dreaming of 2005. Comparing – now rightfully – Marshall ’09 with his days of old. In Tim Moltzen, he has finally found his new Prince.

This NRL – it’s a unique monster. The more you criticise it, the better it gets.

Say what you will about salary caps, standard of competition, the uneven draw and that top-eight system that supposedly rewards mediocrity.

If it wasn’t for that bit of marketing ingenuity half of this year’s sides would’ve lost interest and conked out weeks ago.

But one win, and there’s a sniff. The bright lights of the finals wards off mid-table satisfaction. Six wins on the trot and you have a cosy view of the outhouse.

Suddenly,  Friday night’s Tigersv Parra, 5th v 9th, is arguably the club match of the season.

This NRL You write it off and before you know it it’s about to dish up the most tantalising finals series in years. Wayne Bennett will not want to face Parramatta in round one; or Brisbane. How about the defending premiers, Manly? In fact, who knows who it will be? Take your pick, Benny. It’s going to be one helluva finals. It’s why this game never goes away.

If only The Daily Telegraph’s ‘scandal free zone’ actually lasted a week without imploding embarrassingly and wasn’t laced with such ulterior motive.

If only. If ever. Just feed them more oxygen. Might make their mellons think quicker.

Meanwhile, the “Close the Gap” round was a perfect chance to talk about the sport’s potential to create goodwill in creating an Aboriginal Dream Time team to play the NRL All Stars early next year, where the Dream Team will get first dibs at selecting the best of the sport’s indigenous talent.

While the international game plods along, shouldn’t the sport tap into a dream marketing idea they have sitting on their door step?

Look around any junior league squad and you’ll spot a whose-who of Polynesian talent dominating the scene.

A Polynesian v Dream Time contest probably has more relevance these days than the City-Country.

The sport should think outside the square and come up with a triangular tournament between the Dream Team, All Stars and Polynesian side. If Origin is the greatest arena, this would be the greatest spectacle. Show some initiative!

Ladies and Gents, welcome to my new look blog! After a couple of weeks on the road, I’m back home, primed and prepared for the end of the Aussie Winter, which usually means one thing – we’re on the road to September and all the hope that it brings punters in footy land.

This year, it means so much more, as we await the start of the most exciting A-League season ever, with a World Cup waiting at its end, all the while glued to the box until the wee hours clinging in hope that Ricky Ponting’s men might pull a rabbit (or pull a decent selection – Stuart Clarke, perhaps? That’d make life easier) out of their hat and retain the Ashes over in England.

It’s a tough existence for us punters! If only we can just zip Karmichael Hunt in one of those farcical high tech swim suits, where we can whisk him away at world record pace to join Freddy and Brett Seymour for a few schooners before coffee with Mitchell Johnson’s mum en route to spending a year doing nothing with Lote, and the scene could not be more perfect!

There’s plenty to rip into, so mark this page down and the plan is that every Friday there should be something new online to tease you with.

Thanks for reading and the feedback over the past year.

If ever there was a sign of the silly season dragging on a bit too long, look no further than the stone cold cardboard cut out of Miron the Mute, draped next to poor old Paul Okon who had to somehow justify why his boss had gone on his petulant silent protest to spite the FFA’s decision to play this week’s derby at the 50,000 seat Suncorp Stadium instead of Gold Coasts’ 25,000 seat Skilled Park.

It’s all fun and games. Some would love Miron to be as lifeless as the cardboard version – but for most people, me included, Miron’s return is part of the jigsaw puzzle that will make 2009-10 a breath of fresh air for the A-League.

This is the manager who said: “Miron may stay, Miron may go, but Miron will always drive a Mercedes“. He also once quipped “you look in the mirror and instead of seeing yourself you see Frank Farina” – but given his current histrionics, he probably dreams of seeing Jose Mourinho peering back in the mirror.

EPL manager he might not be, but in my opinion, he’s got as close to an A-League dream team as a coach can muster under the current salary cap, thanks to Clive Palmer, the A-League’s own Roman Abramovich.

It’ll be fascinating. Miron’s sides always play good football. His Roar side couldn’t score and copped heartbreaking losses. Now, he has an unbelievable spine and two of the league’s best marksmen (Van S trattan, although injured; Thwaite, Griffits; Culina; Porter and Smeltz). As the man himself says, he built this team up from scratch – “not something even Alex Ferguson” has done. Not much room for failure, is there?

Will the Coast live up to the hype? I believe so. The team is too full of class not to.

Otherwise, here’s my perilous attempt to gaze into the crystal ball. Will Miron be the greatest of them all?

1. 1. Melbourne. Were hopeless last night, but have far too much quality with the likes of Olyroos Nick Ward and Billy Celeski only on the bench. The sight of Muscat hobbling off is all their worst fears at once, as they lack depth at centre-half. But you’d be a brave punter to pick the Victory to have a poor season.
2. 2. Gold Coast. Shane Smeltz almost kept an average Phoenix team alive all on his own. He can surely push a quality United all the way to the end of the season.
3. 3. Sydney FC. Will be rock solid this year – if key personnel stay fit. Simon Colosimo is like a new signing. They have a marquee man who has a reputation and position on the line, with Mark Bridge and Alex Brosque – probably the league’s two great underachievers – waiting in the wings. if nothing else, they’ll be full of youthful exuberance and talent coming up from last year’s youth side. Watch Rhyan Grant in particular. Will be interesting to see if Kofi Danning and Brendan Gan can take their games to another level… and how will Shannon Cole cope with season two?
4. 4. Brisbane. Arguably the best midfield triumvirate that can run any team off the park with Charlie Miller-Mass Murdocca-Matt McKay, but how will they compensate for Murdocca’s early injury? Experience all over the pitch plus excitement machines like Zullo, Tommy Oar, Mitch Nichols and Robbie Kruse.
5. 5. Perth. Here’s to hoping that Perth are the story of the year and the sleeping giant re-awakens in the West. Frankly, they have a lot to like about them, not just in the shape of three quality Socceroo signings. From Tando Velaphi at the back to Eugene Dadi up front, they were playing some entertaining football at the back end of last year. Dave Mitchell knows how to mould a team, so why not Perth!
6. 6. Newcastle. Have I gone mad? Sometimes the scene at Newcastle is a case of who let the mad-men out of the asylum? Between contract disputes, player walk outs, coaching resignations, injuries and board room intervention, they are a soap opera. BUT, they still have a team of potential and a coach with a point to prove. There are a lot of variables, but throw in perennial A-League threat Sash Petrovski; the enigmatic Ljubo Milicevic and the brilliant Italian Fabio Vignaroli alongside their hoard of youngsters, and you just never know.
7. 7. Adelaide. They will probably make the top-six, but I’ll be surprise if they’ll have improved on last year. If they play with 1-up front again, it will be hard slog grinding it out all over again like last year.
8. 8. Central Coast. Already doing what they do best and proving the pundits wrong. Last night was workmanlike; they lack the quality they’ve had in the past, but they’ll be there or there about again because it’s the only way they know.
9. 9. North Queensland. Their squad has really spruced up of late with David Williams, Paul Henderson and Shane Steffanuto joining the stable. They are a real unknown quantity. Their squad looks tired, Jacob Timpano is already on the long term injury list (no joke), but they have a divine presence up front after all…
10. 10. Wellington. Someone has to come last, and they don’t have Shane Smeltz. With big debate to ensue about renewing their license given the AFC’s opposition to having them in our league, it is a huge year for them. They can cause some upsets.Will be interesting to see how their striker Greenacre and youngster Barbarouses go.

Fingers crossed this will be the best season yet. First couple of games have been scrappy, but there’s so much to like – marquee stars, derbies, glamour Gold Coast v Sydney clashes, young stars, former Socceroos, World Cup positions on the line. Bring it on!

Team to watch:

VELAPHI (Perth)

MULLEN (Adelaide)    De VERE (Brisbane)  COLOSIMO (Sydney)  BERGER (Melbourne)

OAR (Brisbane)             VIGNAROLI (Newcastle)   GRANT (Sydney)  SONG (Newcastle)

JESIK (Newcastle)   WILLIAMS (North QUEENSLAND)