Don't Believe The Hype

Stuart Pearce has declared from his deluded Nottingham Forest boot room that both himself and Chairman John Wardle still see him as 'the best man for the job' as Manchester City manager. Well, that's alright then.

Unbelievably still talked up in ever decreasing Blue circles as a young manager still learning his trade who will one day come good, there remains a possibility that should the current shambolic club set up remain in place this summer so will Pearce having served up some of the most dismal, turgid, tactically naiive football ever played by a City side.

Let's put the talk a good game spin and hype to one side and look at exactly where the City Board's dangerous policies and Pearce & Co's glaring inabilities have taken us over these past two seasons:

League results for 2005-2006 and 2006-2007 have so far realised a p*sspoor 85 points from a possible 222: P74, W24, D13, L37.

This season, City are on course for the lowest goals tally in our club's league history.

Not a single league goal has been scored by City at Eastlands since 1st January 2007 in 10.5 hours of football. Prior to that, a paltry 10.

In all the league games that City have fallen behind this season, we have only come back once and that was during injury time at Everton in September 2006.

We are now only one game away from recording the lowest number of goals scored at home in English Football's top flight history.

This season could realistically see City reach less points than the 43 in 2005-2006 with less goals scored.

Finally, and because I can't face any more damning facts or even begin to consider the hopelessness of the club's transfer and wages policy, Season Card sales are 50% down on the same time last year. That has to be the worst fact of all.

In conclusion, we are going backwards at an alarming rate and were it not for the support of Jim Cassell's brilliantly run Academy and the recent (fortuitous?) arrivals of Ball and Mpenza we would have been relegated weeks ago.

'The best man for the job?'

As one Jim Royle would say: 'My Arse.'

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