PORTSMOUTH 2 CITY 0 Barclays Premier League 14th February 2009 attendance 20,018 scorers Johnson(70), Hreidarsson(75) |
City Given, Logan, Kompany, Onuoha, Bridge, De Jong, Zabaleta, Ireland, Elano, Robinho, Bellamy – subs Evans(79), Caicedo(66), Hart(unused), Garrido(unused), Fernandes(unused), Berti(unused), Weiss(unused)
.
Portsmouth James, Johnson, Distin, Campbell, Basinas, Davis, Hreidarsson, Kranjcar, Pennant, Crouch, Nugent – subs Mullins(66), Belhadj(86), Begovic(unused), Pamarot(unused), Utaka(unused), Kanu(unused), Gekas(unused)
.
.
from ‘GOODFELLA’ By Craig Bellamy with Oliver Holt
…we played Portsmouth at Fratton Park. Portsmouth were without a manager and were fighting relegation. We lost 2-0. Robinho and Elano were a disgrace. It was like they only wanted to pass to each other. We weren’t good enough that we could carry them but when they lost it, they didn’t track back or anything…We were woeful. I’d only been there a couple of weeks but I’d had enough of them. I came in after the game and I had a real go at both of them. I told Robinho I was his biggest fan and that I thought he was an immense.. player. “But do you think how you behaved today was right?” I said. Robinho pretended he didn’t understand. So Elano started to say something. “You’re in no position to pipe up,” I said. “You were a fucking disgrace, too. You didn’t track your runners, you did what you wanted on the ball, you wasted possession.” They seemed to be shocked that someone was having a go at them. They didn’t say anything. So I filled the silence. “You think we’re all here to do your running for you, do you?” I said. “What, you can lose it but I’ll go and win it back for you so you can lose it again? I know that you’re incredibly talented. There’s no two ways about that. You proved that against Italy. But great players don’t come to Portsmouth and put in a performance like that.” Sparky had been listening. At that point, he went out and left me to it. Vincent Kompany backed me up as well. He was an outstanding professional and he had fallen out with the Brazilian clique before I arrived. I had only been there a couple of weeks but I felt so let down and so pissed off about what had happened. I didn’t want to be the one saying it. I would have loved to keep my head down. But I couldn’t help myself. When I got to training on Monday, Robinho called me over to a corner of the changing rooms. Elano was standing behind him, just like he always did. “Why you talk?” Robinho said. “Do you think I’m out of order then, yeah?” I said. “I gather you do.” He turned to Elano and they exchanged a few words of Portuguese. Elano took over then. “I play for Brazil,” Elano said. “I play in the first team. I come here to Manchester City and I don’t play all the time. How do you think I feel? It hurts me. I can play for a great national team and not even play here at Man City. “That’s not my fucking problem,” I said. “You had your chance on Saturday. And look how you played.” “You never had a bad game?” Elano said. “It wasn’t that you had a bad game,” I told him. “It was just the lack of effort. You weren’t interested. That hurts more.” “You always talk,” Robinho said. “It should be the manager who talks, not you.” “If I’ve got something to say, I’ll fucking say it,” I said. “If you don’t think I’ve put in my shift, then you tell me and I’ll take it on the chin. But you have let everyone down.” “Okay,” Robinho said, trying to bring the conversation to an end, “don’t you talk to me again.” “What are you on about?” I said. “You mean talk to you as in talking to you at all or talk to you after the game?” “No, no, we are finished,” Robinho said. “Whatever,” I said. “I’ll lose a lot of sleep over that.” Robinho and Elano walked off. I saw Stephen Ireland sitting nearby. He caught my eye. “Now you see what we’ve had to put up with,” he said.
…we played Portsmouth at Fratton Park. Portsmouth were without a manager and were fighting relegation. We lost 2-0. Robinho and Elano were a disgrace. It was like they only wanted to pass to each other. We weren’t good enough that we could carry them but when they lost it, they didn’t track back or anything…We were woeful. I’d only been there a couple of weeks but I’d had enough of them. I came in after the game and I had a real go at both of them. I told Robinho I was his biggest fan and that I thought he was an immense.. player. “But do you think how you behaved today was right?” I said. Robinho pretended he didn’t understand. So Elano started to say something. “You’re in no position to pipe up,” I said. “You were a fucking disgrace, too. You didn’t track your runners, you did what you wanted on the ball, you wasted possession.” They seemed to be shocked that someone was having a go at them. They didn’t say anything. So I filled the silence. “You think we’re all here to do your running for you, do you?” I said. “What, you can lose it but I’ll go and win it back for you so you can lose it again? I know that you’re incredibly talented. There’s no two ways about that. You proved that against Italy. But great players don’t come to Portsmouth and put in a performance like that.” Sparky had been listening. At that point, he went out and left me to it. Vincent Kompany backed me up as well. He was an outstanding professional and he had fallen out with the Brazilian clique before I arrived. I had only been there a couple of weeks but I felt so let down and so pissed off about what had happened. I didn’t want to be the one saying it. I would have loved to keep my head down. But I couldn’t help myself. When I got to training on Monday, Robinho called me over to a corner of the changing rooms. Elano was standing behind him, just like he always did. “Why you talk?” Robinho said. “Do you think I’m out of order then, yeah?” I said. “I gather you do.” He turned to Elano and they exchanged a few words of Portuguese. Elano took over then. “I play for Brazil,” Elano said. “I play in the first team. I come here to Manchester City and I don’t play all the time. How do you think I feel? It hurts me. I can play for a great national team and not even play here at Man City. “That’s not my fucking problem,” I said. “You had your chance on Saturday. And look how you played.” “You never had a bad game?” Elano said. “It wasn’t that you had a bad game,” I told him. “It was just the lack of effort. You weren’t interested. That hurts more.” “You always talk,” Robinho said. “It should be the manager who talks, not you.” “If I’ve got something to say, I’ll fucking say it,” I said. “If you don’t think I’ve put in my shift, then you tell me and I’ll take it on the chin. But you have let everyone down.” “Okay,” Robinho said, trying to bring the conversation to an end, “don’t you talk to me again.” “What are you on about?” I said. “You mean talk to you as in talking to you at all or talk to you after the game?” “No, no, we are finished,” Robinho said. “Whatever,” I said. “I’ll lose a lot of sleep over that.” Robinho and Elano walked off. I saw Stephen Ireland sitting nearby. He caught my eye. “Now you see what we’ve had to put up with,” he said.