Scott Murray's Blog, page 222

The Joy of Six: Tour de France stages

From the Algerian who got drunk by mistake to Floyd Landis's testosterone-charged solo effort - a half-dozen of the more memorable Le Tour stages

1) Stage three, 1913: Bayonne to Bagnères-de-Luchon

"You never know what worse luck your bad luck has saved you from," wrote Cormac McCarthy in No Country for Old Men. It's an interesting perspective, but one that's unlikely to have been shared by Eugène Christophe, a French cyclist who could scarcely have endured more misfortune in the Tour de France if he'd careered across the path of a clowder of black cats and under several ladders before smithereening the contents of a hall of mirrors. Despite being the first rider to wear the yellow jersey in the Tour de France, upon the garish garment's introduction in 1919, Christophe failed to win the race in 11 attempts, due in no small part to continued rotten luck that has at least earned him a reputation in the pantheon as one of the most unfortunate cyclists in Tour history. Indeed, short of actually plunging to his death after cycling over the edge of an Alpine ravine, it's difficult to imagine from what worse fate the chronic bad luck suffered by the bike-racer from Malakoff outside Paris could possibly have been saved.

Having failed to win the 1912 race for no other reason than that it was decided by a points system rather than time, Christophe would go on to lose the Tour from a seemingly unassailable position on no fewer than three separate occasions because of the same mechanical problem. Contesting his sport at a time when cyclists set off on epic stages in the early hours of the morning and had to complete their own repairs without assistance from anyone else, Le Vieux Gaulois (The Old Gaul) would miss out when well-placed to take overall victory in 1913, 1919 and 1922 due to a broken fork.

The most famous of these incidents was the first, on the mountainous 373km (373!) jaunt from Bayonne to Bagnères-de-Luchon that took in the Col d'Osquich, Col d'Aubisque, Col du Soulor, Col du Tourmalet, Col d'Aspin and Col de Peyresourde. In second place on general classification four minutes and five seconds behind the previous year's winner, Odile Defraye of Belgium, Christophe and his Peugeot team-mates set a blistering pace from the get-go and by the summit of the Tourmalet, 2,115m above sea level, (the same mountain on which Defraye would later abandon through exhaustion), the Frenchman was more than 18 minutes clear of his nearest rival on the road and looking set fair for overall victory in that year's Tour. It was not to be; on the descent, the forks on Christophe's bike snapped, although for years he would dishonestly claim he'd been hit by a car in order to save face for his employers, who were also the manufacturers of his machine. Shouldering his useless bike, the distraught Christophe proceeded to walk 14km to the nearest village.

"All the riders I had dropped during the climb soon caught me up," Christophe would later recall. "I was weeping with anger. As I walked down I was looking for a shortcut. I thought maybe one of the pack trails would lead me straight to Sainte-Marie-de-Campan, but I was weeping so badly I couldn't see anything. With my bike on my shoulder, I walked for more than 10km. On arriving in the village at Sainte-Marie-de-Campan, I met a young girl who led me to the blacksmith on the other side of the village. His name was Monsieur Lecomte."

Forbidden from receiving hands-on assistance from Monsieur Lecomte by the beady-eyed race officials who'd followed him down the Tourmalet, Christophe fixed his bike on the forge with the blacksmith instructing him from the sidelines. Having already lost two hours on his walk to the village, he finally finished the stage a whopping three hours and 50 minutes behind new race leader, the Belgian Philippe Thys, only to be told he was being penalised an additional 10 minutes because a seven-year-old boy had operated the bellows for him while he was repairing his bike. Peugeot immediately appealed against this comically merciless punishment and had Christophe's penalty reduced to three minutes. Thys went on to win the Tour that year, with Christophe finishing seventh on GC out of the 35 finishers (140 had started the race). Thirty years later, possibly as some sort of horrible joke, Peugeot would present the luckless cyclist with the very forks he'd repaired himself as a memento of a very long and difficult day the Frenchman would probably have preferred to forget. BG

2) Stage 20, 1964: Brive to Puy-de-Dôme

It was the defeat that brought a great champion the acclaim that his victories had not. Jacques Anquetil came into the 1964 Tour de France having won the race for each of the previous three years, and four times overall, yet despite this success and his classic good looks the 30-year-old remained largely unloved by the general public.

France's heart belonged to Raymond Poulidor, who, though just two years younger, had only competed in the Tour twice, finishing third in 1962 and eighth in '63 – but his gutsy style enraptured the public in a way that the austere, calculating approach of Anquetil never did. In a race expressly designed to make riders suffer, Anquetil never betrayed any pain, always seemed in control, with his wins considered rewards for tactical shrewdness, helpful team-mates and excellence in time-trials rather than the more popular qualities embodied by Poulidor – power, aggression and courage. The public's desire to see the man they affectionally called Poupou prevail was increased after the ninth stage, when, after 239km, Poulidor arrived first at the Monaco velodrome … but forgot that he had to do a lap of it to complete the stage. Anquetil took advantage of Poulidor's mistake to win the stage instead and claim the one-minute bonus.

By the time they came to the final mountain stage, 217km from Brive to Puy-de-Dôme, Anquetil was still 56 seconds ahead of Poulidor in the GC. With just two plain stages and a time-trial to follow, this was considered the last chance for Poulidor, regarded as the far superior climber, to make a bid for Tour victory. He made his move on the final ascent. But Anquetil decided to try and match the more powerful man, pedal-for-pedal. For over 10km, at gradients reaching 13%, Anquetil rode right alongside Poulidor, the pair occasionally banging shoulders as Poulidor tried in vain to drop him. The half a million spectators lining the roads, and the viewers watching the Tour live on TV for the first time, were enthralled, their admiration for Anquetil increasing with every metre that he defied their expectations of him fading. Anquetil, the so-called automaton, was in agony – but he would not yield, becoming more human and more heroic with every metre that he kept up with the exasperated Poulidor. Only with 900 metres to go did Poulidor eventually escape but it was too late to make a significant dent in the overall lead.

Anquetil went on to secure his fifth Tour title. Poulidor, meanwhile, won 189 races in his career, including the Tour of Spain, but he is defined more by his close misses in the Tour de France, where he finished third five times and second three times, the eternal, ever-popular underdog. PD

3) Stage 17, 2006: Saint-Jean-de-Maurienne to Morzine

One of the most steep and scenic of the Alpine climbs, the 11.6-kilometre Col de Joux-Plane has, in its time, made a folk hero of Marco Pantani, who famously climbed its 1,700m summit in 33 minutes while proving one of few mountains to get the better of Lance Armstrong. As it turned out, both men were almost certainly loaded on goof-balls on each occasion, but it seems unlikely that either can have been as off their heads while climbing it as Floyd Landis was when he broke away to win stage 17 and ostensibly the Tour de Tour de France in July 2006.

Having had the mother of all shockers in the mountains the previous day in a stage won by the Dane Michael Rasmussen, another serial doper who would be kicked off the following year's Tour in disgrace while in possession of the yellow jersey, Landis as good as conceded victory was beyond him when he fronted up before a gaggle of journalists for a good-humoured impromptu press conference in which he stated he wouldn't mind having a couple of beers.

Retiring to his hotel room afterwards, Landis did indeed get loaded, but his drug of choice was an epic amount of testosterone, rather than a six-pack of booze. The following day's stage boasted five categorised climbs and Landis began it more than 11 minutes behind race leader Oscar Pereiro, having held the lead by 10 seconds just 24 hours previously. With a breakaway of inconsequential riders having opened a gap early in the stage, Landis sent his Phonak team-mates to the front of the peloton, where they put the hammer down.

As nature took its course and the weaker riders were shelled out the back, the main focus of attention was the group of big name GC contenders and Landis, including Pereiro, Carlos Sastre, Andreas Klöden, Damiano Cunego and Cadel Evans. With 127 kilometres and five climbs to go, the American attacked off the front and his rivals let him go. Approximately 100 kilometres later they realised they'd made a terrible error, long after the panic-stricken maillot jaune Pereiro had pleaded in vain for some help reeling in Landis. Their late attempt to undo the damage done was in vain and the Phonak rider's testosterone-charged mountain assault enabled him to win the stage by a staggering 5min 42sec from Sastre and shoot back up to third place on GC, 30 seconds behind Pereiro.

At the time, it was regarded by some with suspicion, but many others as a heroic achievement; one of the great Tour rides that provided the likeable Landis with the platform from which to go on and win the race by 57 seconds from Pereira in the final time-trial. A week after his stage win, however, it was announced that the obligatory urine test given by Landis had tested positive for synthetic testosterone that put him three times over the hormonal limits permitted by World Anti-Doping Agency rules. When his 'B' test confirmed the findings, Landis was immediately sacked by Phonak despite the emphatic protestations of innocence from the rider, which turned out to be total cobblers, and he went on to be stripped of his Tour win and suspended in the most ignominious of circumstances. The most ignominious, that is, until those endured by his former team-mate Lance Armstrong, who Landis eventually took down with him. Simultaneously the best and worst day of Landis's career, it could be argued that Thursday 20 July 2006 was a black day for the sport of cycling, but the cyclist's failed test and subsequent fall-out mean it is also the date when the rehabilitation of a sport that was on its knees finally began what at least seems to be a welcome recovery. BG

4) Stage 13, 1951: Perpignan to Nîmes

As much about valiant failure as heroic victory (is finishing last in any other race considered a badge of honour?), the Tour de France has thrown up more than its fair share of tragicomic tales in its 100 editions, few more amusing than that of Abdel-Khader Zaaf, the man who famously went the wrong way.

Riding in stifling heat as 50% of a two-man breakaway with his team-mate and fellow North African Marcel Molines that began with 200 kilometres to go, Zaaf learned that they had opened a gap of more than 20 minutes on an apathetic peloton who let them escape because they were so far behind on GC. Excited to realise this would be enough to put him in the yellow jersey, Zaaf completely lost the run of himself, forgot to drink anything and began weaving around the road as a result of dehydration with less than 20 kilometres to go.

Eventually grabbing a bottle proffered by a concerned citizen standing roadside, Zaaf lowered the contents in one lengthy draft, but continued zigzagging hopelessly along the road in an apparent state of delirium, before falling off his bike and being dragged into the shade of a tree by a number of spectators, where he proceeded to fall asleep. It turned out Zaaf was drunk. Trousered. Banjoed. A teetotal Muslim, he'd only gone and grabbed a bottle of white wine from the hand of a well meaning stranger and never having had so much as a sniff of the cork before, he was left in a state of hopeless disrepair by the contents, which certainly left him refreshed, albeit not in the way he'd hoped.

Upon coming round some minutes later, a decidedly confused and tiddly Zaaf remounted his bicycle and set off in the wrong direction, prompting the spectators lining the route to summon an ambulance to bring the stricken rider to Nîmes. His pleas to be allowed to finish the closing 20 kilometres the following day fell on the deaf ears of jobsworth race officials and he was removed from the race for failing to finish a stage. His Tour was over, but the legend had just begun. BG

5) Stage 9, 2007: Val-d'Isère to Briancon

Of course, we say that few of the Tour's tragicomic tales are more amusing than the one about the Muslim who was ejected from the peloton after getting drunk by mistake, but then we remembered the time T-Mobile rider Marcus Burghardt crashed into the world's dopiest, nails-hard dog. No dogs or cyclists were harmed in the making of this video, although we pity any mechanic lumbered with the task of recycling that front wheel. BG

6) Stage 21, 1989: Versailles to Paris (Champs Elysées)

Only three riders were expected to seriously challenge for the maillot jaune in 1989: Pedro Delgado, Laurent Fignon, and Stephen Roche. Delgado was the hot favourite to win the 76th Tour, the reigning champion from Spain, but his race was effectively run before he'd pressed a pedal towards the floor. Stopping to sign some autographs while out on a warm-up run before the big off, he failed to give himself enough time to get back to the starting ramp, and when he finally did, found the clock had been spinning around for a whopping two minutes and 40 seconds. It was beyond farcical and, psychologically jiggered, his challenge never recovered. "I didn't notice time passing," sighed the foolish Delgado, but then again, who can live a life without saying that.

Meanwhile Roche, the 1987 winner from Ireland, soon aggravated long-standing problems with his left knee, and was eventually forced to withdraw a week in. A shoo-in for Fignon, then, a victory for France, and what a way to embellish the bicentenary celebrations of the French Revolution! Let them eat the icing on the cake!

Few considered the chances of Greg LeMond, who had become the first (and is still the only legit) American to win the tour in 1986. LeMond hadn't competed in Le Tour since that victory, having been accidentally peppered with buckshot by his uncle and brother-in-law while on a turkey shoot in 1987. While the incident reads like a particularly memorable Chuck Jones animation, it was an altogether more serious affair than mere ACME-product larks; LeMond nearly bled to death, pellets lodged in his heart, lungs and liver, and subsequently missed a large chunk of his career. Now he was happily fit again and back in the saddle, but little was expected of him this time round.

But the pressure was off, and LeMond delivered. After a win in the stage five time trial, he grabbed the lead in the GC. From that early point, it would be hand-to-hand combat with Fignon. The American, with Fignon struggling in the mountains, held a 53-second lead heading towards L'Alpe D'Huez on the 17th stage of 21, but the French rider launched a blistering attack 4km from the summit and ended the day with a 26-second advantage. With four stages remaining, Fignon then followed that devastating turnaround with what appeared to be a killer blow, winning his first stage with another well-timed attack, this time on the Côte de St Nizier-du-Moucherotte. Having built a 50-second lead in the GC so close to home, it looked done and dusted.

The two riders went into the final stage, the individual time trial between Versailles and Paris, with Fignon still 50 seconds ahead. LeMond, however, was racing with an aerodynamic helmet and triathlon-style handlebars. Fignon sported a distinctly non-supersonic ponytail and had a basket on his handlebars loaded down with hubris. Having reportedly congratulated LeMond on second place before the 25km time trial, he was shocked to see the American, going off one ahead of him, eat up his advantage: 21 seconds up at 11.5km, 24 ahead at 14, 29 in front at 18. As LeMond crossed the line at Champs Elysées, having ridden the fastest-ever Tour time trial at speeds touching 34mph, he heard the announcer say that Fignon had 20 seconds left to get to the line and win the Tour. "I saw him coming and thought the worst that could happen was that I lost the Tour by one second," said LeMond.

But Fignon could not make it, straining desperately but coming in eight seconds short before collapsing on to the floor in exhaustion and agony, both of the mental as well as physical kind. It was the shortest gap in Tour-winning history, and the biggest blow. LeMond took the garland as he celebrated perhaps the greatest comeback in all cycling. Poor Fignon, already unloved by many French pushbike fans for his measured, professorial style, had now buggered up the bicentennial celebrations and would be destined to live out the rest of his days, despite the two Tours he'd already won, as Monsieur Eight Seconds. "Winning and losing are never easy whatever the conditions," he later reflected ruefully, "but it can be worst of all if you lose in certain circumstances." SM

• With thanks to John Ashdown

Tour de FranceCyclingTour de France 2013Barry GlendenningPaul DoyleScott Murray
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Football transfer rumours: Willy Caballero to replace Joe Hart at Man City?

Today's connoisseur's choice has very little Manchester United, Liverpool, Arsenal, Chelsea or Manchester City in it. How's that for the hard sell?

We start this morning with possibly the most underwhelming rumour in the entire ten-year history of the Rumour Mill. Quadragenarian hitman Kevin Phillips might be leaving Crystal Palace for an as yet unspecified destination. "I do have offers elsewhere and, if I'm being honest, there is one which I'm very, very tempted by," he says, keeping his cards very close to his chest, though in truth few are peeking.

More from Crystal Palace, in the second part of a deliberately understated opening which would constitute grounds for dismissal at more cynical media outlets solely concerned with shamelessly hoovering up hits. Ian Holloway is to put a bid in for Peterborough striker Dwight Gayle, who scored 13 goals for Posh last time round. Fulham are also interested.

Completing this morning's Palace triptych: they're close to a deal for West Bromwich Albion winger Jerome Thomas.

More on West Bromwich Albion, then! They're in for Scott Sinclair, who has probably thought at least twice about the sagacity of his move last summer from Swansea City to Manchester City.

St Etienne forward Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang will pick Newcastle United over Anzhi Makhachkala. As you read this, someone, somewhere is no doubt constructing a satirical zinger about Joe Kinnear's inability to rattle off the Gabon international 's monicker. However while the Mill might not be above much, we'll pass on the opportunity to criticise a 66-year-old football coach for not possessing the crisp enunciatory skills of a 1950s BBC newscaster.

Velez Sarsfield and Argentina right back Gino Peruzzi, a target for Manchester City, is on his way to Sunderland instead. Also telling the Champions League clubs to bugger off this morning are Norwich City, who are refusing to let Chelsea make off with John Ruddy; Everton, who have told Manchester United that nothing less than £20m will do for Leighton Baines; and the Rumour Mill, who is already sick to the back teeth of Robert Lewandowski, Edinson Cavani, Marouane Fellaini, Henrikh Mkhitaryan and Ashley Williams, who all chase the Mill over broken glass in our dreams.

Liverpool having thoroughly called Pepe Reina's bluff, the one-time Barcelona target who may or may not have actually been a target for Barcelona is now in limbo. Arsenal are offering an escape route, of sorts. Manchester City also want a new goalkeeper, Manuel Pellegrini having taken all of ten seconds to get Joe Hart's number, and he's selected Malaga's Willy Caballero as his man.

Roberto Martinez will make a move for Spartak Moscow winger Aiden McGeady, a player he tried to sign in January while at Wigan. Everton have meanwhile discovered that the aforementioned Arsenal and Manchester United target Marouane Fellaini's £24m escape clause runs out on August 15, after which he'll have to stay put. That means he can only feature in 34 more Rumour Mills. ONLY 34 MORE MENTIONS TO GO, FOLKS! Y'ALL KEEP COMING BACK, NOW!

Scott Murray
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The Fiver | Five bells at our Dubai bureau | Scott Murray

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WE TAX YOUR PATIENCE

Today's Fiver has, as you, our eagle-eyed reader, will no doubt have already noticed, been sent out three hours earlier than usual. There's a simple explanation for this: we've relocated temporarily to Dubai for tax purposes on the advice of our successful city-boy cousin Rolled-Up £50 Note Braces Buy Sell Buy Sell Convertible Front-Tail Extension Fiver, who incidentally has also [decidedly not – Fiver Lawyers] given Lionel Messi and 41 Italian clubs a few money-saving tips, though that's a story for another day. Anyway, five bells at our Dubai bureau equates to 2pm back home. That time difference is something we didn't factor into this caper, tell the truth, but we're not hanging around for another three hours just in case the rest of the afternoon sees a bankrupt Manchester United wound up in the courts, England's 1966 World Cup win struck off the record books due to a bribery scandal, or Plain Old John Terry announce her gender reassignment therapy. If it happens, it happens, we'll take our chances.

Luckily a big story broke nice and early today, with Carlos Tevez finally taking his leave of Manchester a mere seven years after turning up in England and immediately deciding he wanted out. Manchester City have managed to extract nearly £8m from Juventus, no mean feat considering the Italian champions are currently all over the shop, their gaff being one of many recently turned upside down by tax bobbies sniffing around a money-laundering racket. City will get additional bonuses too, should Juve manage to win a league title or two and keep qualifying for Big Cup, which they will, Italian football being as soul-crushingly predictable as anything on offer in England. Unless of course they get themselves demoted again, but we're great believers in humanity, so let's assume the best of folk.

The deal may not be wholly clever for Tevez, who'll have to take a hit on his current salary of £198,000 a week, but it's a pretty good one for City, who have trousered a fair fee for a 29-year-old player with only one year remaining on his contract, and will save an additional £17m in projected wages and bonuses. They'll try to spend the cash on Robert Lewandowski, if the Dortmund striker can be persuaded to bodyswerve Bayern Munich, or Edinson Cavani, if the Napoli man sees sense and drops the preposterous £300,000-a-week wage demands. City have certainly planned this one out well! Unlike the Fiver, who has saved £7.34 in taxes but is facing a £1,800 bill for flights to the UAE, £1,000 for office space rental, and £7.35 for sundries such as staples, tea, and quaffable turps. Grr! Rolled-Up £50 Note Braces Buy Sell Buy Sell Convertible Front-Tail Extension Fiver! We knew we should have listened to little Leo when he told us he never took notice of your advice.

QUOTE OF THE DAY

"I've got fag butts that belong to Bobby Gillespie, Kate Moss and Amy Winehouse, and I've got Christmas paper that Steve Ogrizovic sent to the guy from Black Sabbath. All kinds of sh … [Snip – Fiver Bad Word Ed] basically" – Pete Doherty reveals plans for a rock 'n' roll memorabilia stall in Camden. Because nothing says rock 'n' roll, etc and so on …

FIVER LETTERS

"Fiver readers might be interested to know that Joe Kinnear's difficulties in pronouncing Neufchateau players haven't gone unnoticed back in France, with one website feeling the need to rank Profanity Joe against fellow linguistic greats (and no, he doesn't disappoint). However, he's got nothing on Didier Deschamps's attempt to name Bayern Munich's team – particularly poor Bastian Sh … [Snip – Fiver Bad Word Ed] – ahead of an important Big Cup game a few years back, which somehow makes old Joe look like a seasoned polyglot. (Disclaimer: GCSE German and French may be required). Otherwise, enjoy" – Chris McKee.

"Re: Peer Lawther's iPhone app (yesterday's Fiver letters). Following on from its poor iPhone performance, does this mean the Fiver has moved on from STOP FOOTBALL to STOP MUSIC? I think we should be told" – David Morgans.

• Send your letters to the.boss@guardian.co.uk. Also, if you've nothing better to do you can also tweet the Fiver. Today's winner of our prizeless letter o' the day prize is: Chris McKee.

JOIN GUARDIAN SOULMATES

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BITS AND BOBS

New Liverpool keeper Simon Mignolet has been going through the glad-chat motions after joining from Sunderland for £9m. "I've never been a nervous person. I'm quite confident in my own abilities," he cheered.

Former Pope's O'Rangers striker Kyle Lafferty has pitched up … in Serie B with Palermo. "When I was younger I watched a lot of Italian football," notably snubbing AC Jimbo.

New Real Madrid coach Carlo Ancelotti has given it the big talk after being unveiled at the club. "We have to win by playing the most spectacular football because the history and tradition of this club is in playing offensive football, and we're going to work hard to play the football that will make the fans happy," he garbled.

Uruguay skipper Diego Lugano reckons Neymar has a cheating touch for a small man, ahead of tonight's Confederations Cup semi-final with Brazil. "Neymar is very lightweight, he can drop to the ground and fool the referee and rivals," sniffed Lugano.

And Conference South club Concord Rangers intend to use their minibus to drive elderly fans to home games next season. "It doesn't hurt to give something back," said chairman Ant Smith. "We're a community club."

STILL WANT MORE?

Live on Big Website tonight: MBM coverage of Brazil 2-1 Uruguay from 8pm.

How delicious: Sepp Blatter has kicked off Fifa's Arab Spring in Brazil, writes Marina Hyde.

This is rather nice: English football grounds, as illustrated from surrounding streets.

Carlo Ancelotti will be like a breath of fresh air at Real Madrid, reckons Jonathan Wilson.

And the Knowledge summer archive digs out the time Diego Maradona stuck it to Dubya.

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'WANNA TEST MY SQUAD?'Scott Murray
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Football transfer rumours: Robert Lewandowski to Manchester City?

Today's rumours landed in a threadbare environment

From cigar-smuggling goalkeeper Ricardo Zamora to cheroot-sucking trickster Johan Cruyff, Barcelona have employed one or two smokers in their time. Presumably having not changed their club doctor since 1922, Barça are now thinking about spending £25m on Wayne Rooney who, emboldened by an upgrade to his weave and increasingly independent of mind, has demanded transfers from Manchester United for both himself and his little pal Rug 2.0. Paris Saint-Germain, Real Madrid, Chelsea and Arsenal are keeping tabs on the situation, as it were.

Also taking his leave of Manchester in search of glamour is Micah Richards, who may sign a new deal with Manchester City before heading off to Internazionale on loan. No, we don't understand it either, but then it's none of our business. City have meanwhile already agreed to let Carlos Tevez join Juventus, and want to replace him with Robert Lewandowski, who really does need to sign for Bayern Munich or get off the pot.

But City are no longer interested in Edinson Cavani, having been spooked by the Napoli striker's £300,000-a-week wage demand. Manchester United, Chelsea and Real Madrid have all long taken leave of their senses, and are still considering it.

Everton haven't worked themselves into a froth over a player from a major international tournament since Daniel Amokachi at the 1994 World Cup. It's about that time, and so they're in for CSKA Moscow midfielder Keisuke Honda, who put in a decent shift for Japan at the Confederations Cup.

Honda will arrive at Goodison alongside Arouna Koné. That's more good news for Everton fans: not only have they seen off Swansea City and Norwich City for the Ivory Coast striker, it also stands to reason that Roberto Martínez can only plunder old club Wigan for so many players, and this means there's now statistically less chance of him going back for Gary Caldwell.

The west of Scotland to the East Riding. It's a route once traversed by Daniel Cousin, so you'd assume Gary Hooper is not taking Hull boss Steve Bruce's calls.

Newcastle United are after André-Pierre Gignac. The £12m Marseille striker ticks all the boxes for Newcastle: he's French, he's a powerful unit in the Shearer-Carroll mould, and they won't have to compete with cash-rich Anzhi Makhachkala for him, which is what's putting them off Vitesse Arnhem's Wilfried Bony.

And Paris Saint-Germain, who have just appointed Laurent Blanc as coach, are after Arsenal boss Arsène Wenger as coach. Yes, we have copied that one down correctly.

Transfer windowScott Murray
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The Fiver | Like the steamboat in Fitzcarraldo | Scott Murray

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THE HORROR, THE HORROR

Sepp Blatter, wearing a white linen suit and wide-brimmed hat, waltzes into town and pitches camp. He drapes himself over a chaise longue in his tent, behind a net designed to keep out mosquitoes and commoners, a bit like Kurtz, only with a larger waistline and smaller conscience. He snaps his fingers and claps his hands, and orders the locals to use all their available resources to build, to his exact specifications, a special machine which prints lots of money. Churn churn churn, it goes. Blatter stuffs all the money that comes out of the machine into the pockets of his voluminous, elasticated suit, then just as smoke starts billowing out of the contraption, snaps his fingers and claps his hands as he orders a couple of Little Men to cart him off in a sedan chair, out of harm's way. As the brazen oaf is hauled over the horizon, like the steamboat in Fitzcarraldo, the malfunctioning machine he's left behind suddenly spins into backwards overdrive, resulting in a scary vacuum which begins to suck all the notes from the pockets of local passers-by, burning them all into the finest cinder, which drifts up into the ether and away.

It's a grand caper Sepp's got going, this. It's a grift he learned from his pals at the International Olympic Committee, who have in the past bamboozled the Canadians, the Greeks, and some dim-witted, easily flattered, vacuous, preening politicians from London, who were foolish enough to believe that blowing billions of public money on vanity projects guarantees a commensurate return in "legacy", whatever that is, and not just the sugar rush of a couple of weeks of highly transient fun which soon descends into widespread despair and penury. But the penny's dropped early doors in Brazil, where the plain people have rather wisely come to the conclusion that, with taxes and inflation high while investment in vital public services is low, the $26bn of their dosh ringfenced for next year's World Cup and the 2016 Olympics could be better spent elsewhere.

Cue millions taking to the street last night in peaceful protest, which only turned unpleasant when the bobbies turned up carrying a party box of tear gas and grenades. The countrywide brouhaha led to rumours this morning that overblown logistical dry run, the Confederations Cup, could be abandoned mid-tournament. "Fifa will claim compensation from Brazil if the Confederations Cup has to be suspended," trumpeted the website of Rádio Central Brasileira de Notícias, a highly-respected rolling news arm of Organizações Globo, another media organisation the Fiver is referring to by its full name in order to give the impression we know what we're talking about, which we don't.

Senior Brazilian journalists, who may or may not be looking to whip up a storm in order to fill their papers, were putting it about that "there is strong speculation which won't go away", and that their government was facing a Sepp-sized lawsuit if everyone was indeed forced to pack up and go home. But Fifa was quick to dispel the rumours, insisting that "to date, neither Fifa nor the local organising committee have ever discussed any such possibility." Whether that will remain the case if the protests continue loudly in the background of, say, the ersatz restaging of the 1970 World Cup final in Salvador on Saturday is a moot point. But whatever happens, football fans in Brazil can take heart that this is all at least a promising harbinger; the police were acting like militaristic goons back in 1969, too, and look what happened to the football team a year after that. And if that isn't enough to offer hope, Sepp will be off soon enough to pester the Russians and Qataris instead. And the grass where he's pitched that tent will grow back eventually.

QUOTE OF THE DAY

"We were looking for something special for the team and supporters to experience this pre-season and after a lot of behind-the-scenes negotiation we have landed this attractive fixture" – Shrewsbury secretary Jayne Bebb somewhat underplays the fact the League One side will be welcoming Galatasaray to the New Meadow on 13 July.

FIVER LETTERS

"One can only hope Gareth Bale trademarks his 'ludicrous dive and the "when you're running dead fast the slightest touch/gust of air is enough to knock you over" defence of said ludicrous dive' (Chris Cruickshank, yesterday's Fiver letters). Players (well, other than Bale) would immediately stop flopping around out of fear that his lawyers would surely enforce the trademark infringement far more strictly than referees enforce the rule prohibiting 'simulation'" – Archie Warnock.

"As a parent, I'm concerned by the precedent Bale's goal celebration trademark application may set. If Robbie Keane follows suit, it could spell the end of PE lessons at primary schools around the world. And had Alan Shearer thought of it, how would we now hail taxis?" – Bryan Matthews.

"I see the Brazilian population have taken to the streets to protest the cost of the upcoming World Cup. If only the Brazilians lived in a flourishing democracy like Britain's, then their press could simply shoehorn as many Brazilian flags into news coverage as possible and denounce anything other than blind acceptance of the costs of staging sporting events as un-Brazilian. Hopefully once the event has been held, the Brazilians will follow the British example and invoke the World Cup spirit and how proud they were to be Brazilian during it at every single opportunity for the remainder of the year, rather than taking their political class to task for not doing much of a job. Come on Brazil, everyone knows unquestioning acquiescence is the very keystone of both patriotism and keeping completely unaccountable supranational sports governing bodies like Fifa and the IOC sweet. Get your act together" – Jason Tew.

• Send your letters to the.boss@guardian.co.uk. Also, if you've nothing better to do you can also tweet the Fiver. Today's winner of our prizeless letter o' the day prize is: Bryan Matthews.

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BITS AND BOBS

Having been turned down by André Villas-Boas, Fabio Capello, Michael Laudrup, Guus Hiddink and Uncle Tom Cobley, lottery winners PSG have finally found a sap willing to make merry with their money: Laurent Blanc.

Lionel Messi's father has kicked back, swung his feet on to the desk and declared he is "relaxed" over the Spanish inquiry into his and his son's alleged tax fraud [which they both deny – Fiver Lawyers]. "It's normal that there's a difference in opinion between the authorities and our advisers, because there always is with people who pay a lot of tax," he bragged.

Joe Kinnear will be able to take the credit for Newcastle Eff Cee chief scout Graham Carr's signings after the talent spotter agreed to remain at the club.

After pelting four past Tahiti, Fernando Torres claimed he has "nothing to prove", before taking advantage of his rare accuracy to aim a pat on their plucky little heads: "They were trying to play, whilst aware of their shortcomings, but they did not lose enthusiasm."

Kilmarnock have escaped punishment for failing to muzzle former boss Kenny Shiels, who flounced out of the club after flicking the Vs at the Queen's Celtic in the grand style, calling them "the monster of Scottish [fitba]".

Football transparency dept: Mohammed Iya has been re-elected as president of the Cameroon FA. In other news today, newly re-elected Cameroon FA president Mohammed Iya has been transferred to Kondengui central prison after appearing in court on charges of misappropriating public funds resulting in a $19m loss.

New Palermo boss Gennaro Gattuso has revealed he will be taking the Stuart Pearce approach to management. "Do I have any fear? I don't bandage my head up before getting hurt," he growled. "I don't put in stitches unless I see blood."

And after a 23-year career, Kaizer Chiefs goalkeeper Arthur Bartman has hung up his gloves. There is no news yet on whether he will eat his shorts. [Apologies – Fiver Ed.]

RECOMMENDED VIEWING

RoboCup!

STILL WANT MORE?

To cut a long story short, today's Joy of Six on great free transfers is gold. True.

AC Jimbo and chums watched football all last night, then talked about it all this morning. Unlike the rest of us, they recorded their efforts in this podcast.

And given that Uruguay coach Oscar Tabárez has Edinson Cavani, Luis Suárez and Diego Forlán at his disposal, why is he insisting on a 4-4-1-1 formation, howls tactics guru Michael Cox.

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WE MISS SPECIAL MANConfederations CupScott Murray
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Confederations Cup Football Daily: Spain tear Tahiti to shreds

Staying up late so you don't have to, on today's Confederations Cup Football Daily AC Jimbo welcomes Paul MacInnes, Owen Gibson and the lesser-spotted Scott Murray to the pod to look back on Spain's tonking of Tahiti and Uruguay's ersatz showing against Nigeria.

The podders then look ahead to Saturday night's pretty-much-dead-rubbers - Brazil v Italy and hipster-tastic Japan against Mexico.

We'll be recording after the final whistle tomorrow, with James Horncastle and Jacob Steinberg in the pod. See you then.

James RichardsonBen GreenScott MurrayPaul MacInnesOwen Gibson

The Joy of Six: free transfers

From Luis Enrique to Andrea Pirlo, via Sol Campbell and a Melchester Rovers double swoop from Spandau Ballet

1) Luis Enrique, Real Madrid to Barcelona (1996)

In a competition to find the most famous Luis to play for both Barcelona and Real Madrid, there is only ever going to be one winner. The sight of a pig's head lying by the Camp Nou pitch after being flung towards Luis Figo by Barcelona fans seething about his move to the Spanish capital in 2000 remains one of the most iconic and extraordinary moments in Clásico history, one that vividly sums up the hatred that exists between the two clubs. No one will ever forget it and even now, a decade on, it is an incident that provokes bafflement, a shake of the head and, if we are being totally honest, a guilty chuckle.

Of course, Figo was not the first player to cross the divide. He was not even the first Luis. The only difference, though, was that Luis Enrique moved in the other direction, joining Barcelona from Real Madrid on a free transfer in 1996, and unlike Figo he revelled in the abuse that inevitably came his way. He enjoyed nothing more than winding up Madrid fans and had no problem with the cries of "Hijo de puta" that flew from the stands when he returned to the Bernabéu.

Luis Enrique, perhaps the greatest defender/midfielder/forward (R/L/C) of all time, had no affiliation to Barcelona initially. He was born in Asturias and began his career with his local club, Sporting Gijon, before signing for Madrid in 1991. He spent five years there and even scored the fourth in a 5-0 Clásico win in the 1994-95 season, a year in which Madrid claimed their first La Liga title for five years. He celebrated wildly.

Yet in 1996 he left and joined Barcelona, who he represented for eight largely successful years before his retirement in 2004. His departure rankled in Madrid. When the two clubs met in 1997, Marca made sure to point out that he was "a traitor … and we all know what happens to them". Indeed we do – they turn up at the Bernabéu and they score. Perhaps what hurt most was that Luis Enrique could play too. "I felt he was unbelievable as a player, also a rare guy with a great spirit," said Sir Bobby Robson, one of his managers at Barcelona. "He could fill holes all the time and perform exquisitely."

Goals against Madrid were a regular occurrence and Luis Enrique liked nothing more than "kissing the Catalan shield on his shirt whenever he scores against his former club (he is not a Catalan – no matter) or telling the press how happy he is to live in such a vibrant and open city such as Barcelona – the implication, of course, being that Madrid is exactly the opposite," wrote Phil Ball in Morbo: The Story of Spanish Football. Luis Enrique did everything he could to stir the pot, once saying that he felt "prouder to be a culé in the Bernabéu than anywhere else".

"Luis Enrique loves to hate Madrid – and the feeling is mutual," wrote Sid Lowe in 2003. "The last time he visited, Madrid's Ultras Sur offered their own computerised version of Mole Whacking – Luis Enrique whacking, with five points and a splattering of blood for every time you hit him." By then, he had already ensured the bad blood would stain his relationship with Madrid for ever by not even bothering to RSVP after being invited to an event in February 2002 and begin the celebrations for Madrid's centenary. Of course, he made sure it was known he had plans to spend the evening washing his hair instead. Sir Alex Ferguson once said that Dennis Wise could start a fight in an empty room. Luis Enrique preferred it with 95,000 people. JS

2) Denis Law, Manchester United to Manchester City (1973)

It's March 1960, and Huddersfield Town's "20-year-old Scottish boy wonder inside-forward" Denis Law was a wee loon in demand. Newcastle United, Wolverhampton Wanderers, Manchester City, West Bromwich Albion, Birmingham City and Rangers were all feverishly preparing bids, but it looked like Arsenal would prevail, having tabled a record £50,000 offer. Their boss George Swindin had practically camped out in Huddersfield to woo Law, while extra overtures were being made by Highbury's tough-tackling right half Tommy Docherty, who had taken the young player under his wing while the two were on Scotland duty. "Denis is a great player, he is a performer in the Arsenal tradition, and it would be wonderful if he came here to play," Docherty told the press, adding that he expected Law to ring him up asking for advice, whereupon he would tell him: "If you get the chance, come to Arsenal! It's a great club!"

Law joined Manchester City instead for £55,000, and not long after the start of the following season, an outraged Docherty took to the Sunday papers to suggest that the youngster had backed the wrong horse. "Denis may regret it," he said. "He wants to stay in First Division football and if he stays with Manchester City I doubt whether he'll do that." "LAW FALLS OUT WITH HIS SOCCER PAL," screamed the Mirror a couple of days later. "I was upset when I read it," responded Law. "It's silly to talk about relegation when we have had such a good start to the season." City reported Docherty to the Football League in a fit of affronted pique.

But the generally laid-back Law, who of course eventually ended up in gainful employment across Manchester at United, was not the sort to hold grudges. He later played under Docherty on international duty, and when United boss Frank O'Farrell began to struggle in late 1972, the player was quietly approached by Sir Matt Busby for a check-up on the Doc. Law, who had been impressed with Docherty's tactical and man-management skills, gave his soccer pal the full sell. "Pretty much on my word, Manchester United went and got him," Law later recalled.

Law also later recalled this: "Four months after I helped ease him through the front door, the Doc was easing me out the back door." At the end of the 1972-73 season, Docherty summoned Law to his office and told the player that United had decided to reward him for his services with a free transfer. An initially distraught Law – 33, shocked, with a year still remaining on his contract – stated that he would rather retire with dignity while still playing for the club he loved. Docherty relented, and an agreement was struck which would see Law ostensibly play on until his testimonial at the start of the following season against European champions Ajax – which would be billed as Law v Cruyff – after which he would announce his immediate retirement. Everyone would be content enough with that.

Law, now philosophically at ease with the situation, drove north to visit family in Aberdeen, which was where, sitting in a pub the next afternoon, he heard BBC Grandstand's Football Focus announce that United had released him. He was available on a free. His hackles again raised, Law sped back down south, but by then everyone had gone off for their summer holidays. He cleared his locker with nobody to say goodbye to, only the janitor in attendance. Law would still get his money-spinning testimonial, though the 46,000 paying punters who turned up in October had reason to feel slightly short-changed: the man himself was injured and couldn't play, while Cruyff had long since buggered off for Barcelona.

Another small problem: by that point in proceedings, Law had become a City player again. Their manager Johnny Hart had approached him at a football writers' dinner, where the pair had shaken hands on a free transfer there and then. "Nobody realised a big story was right under their noses," noted Law, little surprise given the assembled hacks were ploughing through a free bar. Law, having been blessed on his way to Maine Road by Busby, went on to have a "lovely year", which ended with a valedictory appearance at the World Cup finals, though of course his most memorable act came eight minutes from the end of the domestic season, when he swung a half-hearted heel at a loose ball to score the goal that symbolically, if not literally, relegated United. Docherty's United.

Law, dignity personified, trudged off the Old Trafford pitch in despair. He never once moaned in public about how his career at United had been crudely cut short, the truth only emerging a few years later when Docherty, suing former United winger Willie Morgan for libel, told a court that Law hadn't given two hoots about the manner of his Old Trafford exit, before later admitting on oath how that hadn't exactly been the case. A reluctant Law was forced to finally give his version of events during Docherty's subsequent trial for perjury at the Old Bailey, wondering how it had all come to this, not least because, as he wryly pointed out, "Crippen's been in this dock!" SM

3) Sol Campbell, Tottenham to Arsenal (2001)

As Michael Owen streaked past Arsenal's defence to score the winning goal in the 2001 FA Cup final, Arsène Wenger knew. The famous Arsenal back four, their bodies slowing down after the strain caused by years of raising their arms in anticipation of an offside flag, was in need of renovation and – let's put this mildly – Igors Stepanovs was not the man to step in for Tony Adams. Wenger would have to work the sort of magic in the transfer market that had seen him sign Nicolas Anelka, Thierry Henry, Patrick Vieira, Marc Overmars and Emmanuel Petit in previous years.

Luckily he did not have to look too far. Just down the Seven Sisters Road, Tottenham, who had been drifting aimlessly in mid-table for years, were desperately trying to convince their captain and best player, Sol Campbell, to extend his contract, which was set to expire in the summer. It was a hard sell. Unlike now, qualifying for the Champions League was a pipe dream for Tottenham and Campbell, an England regular and one of the finest defenders in the world, was wanted by almost every major club in Europe. At the age of 26, the time had come to leave a club where he had spent his entire career.

A bitter war of words ensued. Tottenham called Campbell's wage demands "obscene". The defender hit back, saying he deserved more respect for the loyalty he had shown in the past. Barcelona, Internazionale, Liverpool all hankered over his signature. And so did Arsenal.

This was a crucial period for Wenger too. His side had not won anything since the Double in 1998 and gradually seemed to be drifting away from Manchester United, who added Ruud van Nistelrooy and Juan Sebastián Verón to a squad that had just won its third successive league title. Real Madrid wanted to sign Vieira and after the midfielder reacted coolly to the signings of Giovanni van Bronckhorst and Francis Jeffers, a statement of intent was imperative.

When it arrived at the start of July, it was deafening. A midday press conference which journalists presumed had been called to announce Richard Wright's arrival from Ipswich turned out to be far more seismic. There was Campbell, dressed in a black suit and a white shirt, strolling along with Wenger after being convinced to cross north London after a late-night visit from Arsenal's chief executive, David Dein. In doing so, Campbell became the first high-profile player to join Arsenal from Tottenham since Pat Jennings in 1977.

He defended himself by saying he needed to win trophies and that moving abroad would make it more difficult for England's new manager, Sven-Goran Eriksson, to watch him. His words fell on deaf ears. It was a move that went down as well as chicken carpaccio and when England played Holland in a friendly at White Hart Lane in August 2001, Eriksson left Campbell out. The two league titles and the three FA Cups he won during his time at Arsenal probably made up for it. JS

4) Andrea Pirlo, Milan to Juventus (2011)

They're well good, words, you can use them to make some well incongruous phrases, like "compassionate Tory turd-blancmange", or "red trousers save lives". But of the billions of combinations in the English language, there are few quite as incongruous as "teenage winger Andrea Pirlo". And yet, that was precisely how teenage winger Andrea Pirlo was introduced to a British audience, when he replaced Roberto Baggio at Old Trafford in 1999.

He was neither "teenage" nor "winger" for long, turning 20 two months later and also changing position. First, he was converted into a deeplyingstrikerista, and then, when sent on loan to Brescia in 2001, a deeplyingplamakerista. Now, he's just Pirlo.

In the north-west of England, "Phil Chisnall" is the answer to a quiz question and in north London, "Sol Campbell" the start of a fight. But in Italy, the culture is different, top players passed around the top clubs like a cheap metaphor. Baggio, for example, represented Fiorentina, Juve, Milan and Inter; Christian Vieri was at Torino, Juve, Lazio, Inter and Milan; and Fabio Cannavaro moved through Napoli, Parma, Inter and Juve.

In any event, Pirlo leaving Inter for Milan was neither here nor there, because he was yet to establish himself, and in theory, his passage from Milan to Juve is nothing noteworthy either. In theory. In practice, it's little short of lunacy. He didn't leave for money, because of money, or because one team were better than other; Milan decided that they didn't need him. And seeing as his contract was up, he was available for free! Free! Pirlo, free!

But good players are often allowed to leave good teams, sometimes to facilitate improvement – Alex Ferguson, for example, sold Mark Hughes, Paul Ince and Ruud van Nistelrooy to excellent effect. Pirlo, though, is of different ilk, not simply one of the world's many brilliant footballers, but one of very few whom you want to watch until your eyes fall out. Gliding and swishing in languid, effortless, elegant arches, he sees things others can't, takes risks they couldn't, and generally just decides what happens, with classy, amiable sex appeal.

So, in 2010-11, Milan were Serie A champions, then packed him off to Juventus immediately afterwards. So, in 2011-12, Juventus were champions, Pirlo contributing more assists than any other player and voted Italian Footballer of the Year. So, Milan finished in second place, four points off the top. So, in 2012-13, Juventus won the league. So, Milan finished third, 15 points off the top. Free! Pirlo, Free! It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world. DH

5) Paul Lambert, Motherwell to Borussia Dortmund (1996)

The Bosman ruling changed many a player's life for the better, the currently incarcerated Jean-Marc Bosman being the exception that proves the rule. Steve McManaman is arguably the most successful British beneficiary of it, having left Liverpool for Real Madrid in the summer of 1999 to score a spectacular goal in the Champions League final a year later, before picking up a second winners' medal in 2002. But he was already established as a top-level act. Paul Lambert's Bosman bonanza was unquestionably more spectacular as a life-changer, because few had given him much in the way of consideration before he left North Lanarkshire for North Rhine-Westphalia in 1996.

In the summer of that year, nine Scottish-based players were snaffled up on frees under the new Bosman rules. Paul Kane and Gary Smith left Aberdeen for, respectively, Stavanger in Norway and Rennes in France, the latter also making off with Allan Johnston of Hearts. Ionikos of Greece signed Steven Tweed of Hibs and Craig Brewster of Dundee United, while Motherwell lost Rob McKinnon to Twente Enschede of the Netherlands and St Mirren bade farewell to Jamie Fullarton, who left for Bastia in France. The most high-profile move was made by John Collins, who moved from Celtic to Monaco, though the highest eyebrows were raised by Borussia Dortmund, the new champions of Germany, who plundered Motherwell for 27-year-old Lambert, and immediately installed him in the engine room of a team containing Matthias Sammer, Jürgen Kohler, Andreas Möller, Karl-Heinz Riedle, Stefan Reuter, Stéphane Chapuisat and Paulo Sousa.

Few who had been paying any attention to the game in Scotland would have been archly arcing their brows, mind you. "It's an indication of the mistake a lot of English managers make when they think of Scottish football," suggested Lambert's agent, the former Partick Thistle and Leicester City striker Jim Melrose, at the time of the move. "They look no further than Rangers and Celtic and don't realise there are quite a number of good players outside of the Old Firm. I think some of the English managers have made a mistake, because they could have got Lambert at a reasonable fee. But it's Paul's good fortune that he's made it to Dortmund."

Damn straight it was. Lambert, who had been picking up an annual salary of around £25,000 during his first eight years as a pro at St Mirren and Motherwell, suddenly found himself trousering £300,000 a year, while living in a rent-free pile and wheelspinning around in a club Merc. Dortmund coach Ottmar Hitzfeld had been impressed with the player when his side met Motherwell in the Uefa Cup a couple of seasons earlier, and needed no second invitation to make off with one of the best unsung defensive midfielders in the business. His judgement – and that of Lambert and Melrose – was proven right the following May, when the player snuffed out Zinedine Zidane as Dortmund beat Juventus to become champions of Europe. SM

6) Martin Kemp and Steve Norman, Spandau Ballet to Melchester Rovers (1985)

In 1985, football was rubbish. We know this because all those accorded a public platform insisted so, which proves it beyond the remotest doubt. Consequently, Roy Race, purveyor of all that is wholesomely sanctimonious, took it upon himself to "put the fun back in".

This was achieved, first of all, through the signing of notorious gag-machine, Bob Wilson. To an extent, this was reasonable – he's an indisputable mensch, and Charlie Carter was too old, Andy Styles too erratic. Wilson then helped Rovers set a record of 12 consecutive clean sheets, devising a system of signs with which to coach Styles from the touchline after a foot injury forced him out of the side.

But in the meantime, things got really weird. The next arrival was obsequious squeak Emlyn Hughes, the hilarity of his Question of Sport spot insufficient relief for a country crippled by the Thatcherism that ticked him so. This was especially hard to understand, not just because he was a real person ruining a comic, but because Melchester's centre-backs at the time, Vic Guthrie and Jimmy Slade, were the attitude, conscience and character of the squad, as well as talented defenders.

Then, at Christmas time, Spandau Ballet played a concert at Mel Park, where they were joined on stage by a mystery man in a Santa outfit. Amazingly, it turned out to be none other than Roy Race, and, incredibly, he could sing. But it didn't end there, backstage lurking a convulsion of cryptic intrigue. "True," Racey told the band, "you lads could be worth your weight in Gold." About what could he possibly be talking?

It transpired that Martin Kemp and Steve Norman could play football, and a week or two later, Kemp, a gritty midfielder, and Norman, a lightweight right-winger, were wearing the famous red-and-yellow. Both scored crucial goals as the team reached the Milk Cup final, beating Tynecaster United 3-0 at Wembley.

That summer, Rovers toured the middle east state of Basran. Unfortunately, they walked directly into a coup, which began during their game against the national side. Though the team escaped the ground, the bus they commandeered was eventually involved in a crash and blown up by a car bomb, resulting in the deaths of eight players, while Racey missed the Mexico World Cup. Wilson, Hughes, Kemp and Norman had all stayed home, and were never mentioned again. DH

Transfer windowJacob SteinbergScott MurrayDaniel Harris
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Football transfer rumours: Luis Suárez to Napoli?

Today's piffle is still thinking of that drive on the 13th

Joe Kinnear's first task as director of football at Newcastle United has been to abandon long-standing plans to sign Douglas. He's apparently never heard of him, a fact that has caused high amusement among a sneering press pack, several of whose members have extensive knowledge of the player themselves after watching 30 seconds of a video of the FC Twente defender on YouTube.

Arsenal have come to an agreement to sign Gonzalo Higuaín from Real Madrid. The £22m fee eclipses the £15m they paid Zenit St Petersburg for Andriy Arshavin, and the £14,000 they paid Wolverhampton Wanderers for Bryn Jones.

The good news never ends for Arsenal. Gervinho is off to either Marseille or Galatasaray, while Arsène Wenger has decided not to buy Ashley Williams. The Swansea defender will end up at Everton instead, where his reputation is sure to blossom under the inspired yoke of defensive mastermind Roberto Martínez.

Everton are also in for Nathan Redmond, who is in a footrace with Curtis Davies to find out who can skedaddle out of Birmingham first. Davies has the jump on the young winger, with a fee seemingly agreed with Hull City. Hull are also interested in free agent Carlton Cole, presumably having concluded that the former West Ham man can't score at any slower a rate than Nick Proschwitz, but let's see.

Rafael Benítez has somehow managed to avoid the wrath of his former doting fans at Liverpool for saving Chelsea from swirling down the pan, getting them into the Champions League and winning them a European trophy to boot. That's some feat, and now the new Napoli manager has decided to really test their patience by sticking in a huge bid for Luis Suárez.

You may recall Victor Wanyama, flavour of the month for a while last season until Celtic got knocked out of the Champions League and everyone writing about football down south forgot about him because he wasn't on ITV any more. Southampton are the latest club to show an interest in the 21-year-old midfielder, who'd do better to stay in Glasgow and get a couple more years of guaranteed experience in Europe under his belt, but you know how these things pan out.

Juventus, given their size and stature in Italy, have a history of stonking underachievement in the European Cup and Champions League. Looking for players schooled in this tradition, they've decided on a raid of Manchester City, and will accordingly make off with Aleksandar Kolarov and Carlos Tevez, though the latter, who has featured in every Rumour Mill since 23 August 2006, is also considering a switch to Milan, and really does need to make a decision to either stay or bugger off.

And finally Tom Ince, who has been linked in Mills passim with Tottenham Hotspur, Liverpool and Internazionale, is off to Malaysian franchise Cardiff City. He'll be thrilled that Blackpool dug their heels in to bump up the £8m bids that came in from north London, Merseyside and Milan, the club being rewarded for their crack negotiating skills with a whopping Cardiff bid of £8m.

Transfer windowLiverpoolNapoliScott Murray
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Australia 1-0 Iraq: World Cup qualifier – as it happened

Minute-by-minute report: The Socceroos are going to Rio! My oh me-o! Scott Murray watched the whole thing, with apologies to Peter Allen

Scott Murray

Australia v Iraq: World Cup qualifier – live!

Minute-by-minute report: The Socceroos will book a place at Brazil 2014 with a win. Join Scott Murray for the latest

Scott Murray