While even something as free flowing as basketball, for example, comes with a 24-second shot clock that turns a match into a series of incredibly detailed set pieces, football lends itself to a constant state of semi-anarchy where anything could happen at any time. Has your team just spent a relentless ten minutes dominating possession and pounding the opponent’s defence? Well, don’t let yourself blink too long, because three passes and awkward deflection off a shin-pad later you might find yourself a goal down without the cruel universe having the decency to let you know the paradigm was shifting while your eyelids were touching.

We’re forever trying to throw boundaries around this sport, little pieces of territory that easier to understand the more bite-sized we can make them. There’s a reason why that hateful phrase ‘in the Premier League era’ has such currency, and it’s not just because Sky dominate the game’s coverage and desperately hope that you’ll never remember a time when paying £500 a year to watch some games on TV was something only a crazy person would do.

So when something as monumental as the undisputed Best Club Side Ever get completely outclassed in a 4-0 drubbing, it’s understandable that people start preparing a new section in their mental History of Football Wikipedia article. Throw in a similarly epochal drubbing for Real Madrid in Dortmund the following evening and the transfer of power narratives are everywhere you look, begging to be written up then carved onto the tombstones of the First Great La Masia team, of Spain’s dominance of European football, of Revista de la Liga being a ratings-grabber on UK TV.

Except the era hasn’t ended. All those Barcelona players will be back next season. In the entire first-team squad, only four outfielders are over the age of 30. Leo Messi – despite only being able to win a mere Champions League quarter final single-leggedly while the semi passes him by – remains the best player in the world, and is only 25. And with grace and good fortune, they’ll have an actual professional football manager guiding them through training for the whole season, rather than an over-promoted coach worrying about his friend’s health.

Sure, there are some fairly obvious problems with this Barcelona team – but if you spotted them, you can bet that Tito Vilanova has too. It’s no secret that Barça are vulnerable to high balls, but next year Carles Puyol may well be fit to win a few of those aerial battles, or at least shout at Gerard Piqué often enough that he pays a modicum of attention to the world-class footballers flitting around him in the penalty area. Also, Barcelona aren’t afraid of spending money, and one or two technically gifted six-footers would make all the difference. Mats Hummels, Lars Bender and Gareth Bale all spring to mind as suitable and achievable targets for Sandro Rosell’s open wallet.

The over-reliance on Messi is a slightly harder problem to solve, but again can be attributed at least in part to Vilanova’s health issues. Without a suitably qualified tactician tweaking the schemes and laying out the plans game-to-game, Barcelona were naturally forced to fall back on what they already knew to get them through matches. And when you know that giving the ball to the best player in the world will result in a goal 50-60 times a season, it’s difficult not to take that option every time. It’s hard to imagine Jordi Roura had any better ideas than ‘pass to Leo’ – partly because he’s a self-admittedly limited manager, and partly because ‘pass to Leo’ is, more often than not, a cracking idea.

The team that should be worrying about an era ending is actually Barça’s fiercest rivals. As their least replaceable part appears destined to head back to his spiritual home in West London – where the people like him and do what he says and don’t mind grinding out a 1-0 win from time to time – the lack of available options for the Real Madrid bench becomes terrifyingly significant.

The two most eligible managers in Europe over the summer will be Jupp Heynckes and Manuel Pellegirini, but they both know only too well how Madrid teaches its managers, and are unlikely to want another taste. Jürgen Klopp is scorching hot stuff right now, but it feels unlikely that Dortmund will let him go, if only because if he departs in the same summer as Hummels, Götze and Lewandowksi, BvB might as well shut down their football operation entirely and concentrate on the handball team instead.

André Villas-Boas has only been in the door five minutes at Spurs, and his experience at Chelsea has left him too financially comfortable and too wary of mega-club politicking to make abandoning his fledgling White Hart Lane project worthwhile. Jorge Jesus, David Moyes and Laurent Blanc may be possible outsiders, but none are likely to set pulses racing in the merengue boardroom.

Which leaves only one option. While Bayern embark on their adventure with Pep Guardiola and Barcelona look to move into year ten of Messi’s senior career, Real Madrid are staring down the barrel of the Rafa Benítez era – and that’s definitely worth a new page in the history book.

There are few clubs who have flirted with relegation and almost gone out of business before then, just a season later, managing to win the league and consolidate in the Blue Square Bet Premier.

However, that’s exactly what the Tigers have done and they’ve also had to deal with plenty of other difficulties as well.

The club was originally founded in 1885 before changing its name to Hyde United shortly after the war, although they didn’t simply ‘let their club die’ and start again as many teams often do – they remain the same club.

In terms of recent years, perhaps the most dramatic point for the club was being wound up in 2009, only for a bucket collection at nearby Manchester City and an often misunderstood deal with The Citizens to save them.

The collections were able to pay for the money the club owed but as the club’s fans state, there was still the matter of a “tax liability which, while it wasn’t quite old enough to be included in the Court figure, still had to be paid ASAP, together with other liabilities”.

Hence, City stepped in and helped out financially, agreeing a frontloaded deal with Hyde to pay this off in return for the use of Hyde’s Ewen Fields as their reserve team venue.

It did mean that Hyde were forced to repaint their ground so that it matched City’s blue, rather than United’s red, however.

Many people, often those keen to falsely accuse Hyde of ‘selling their soul’, say they wore blue as well for the sake of securing City’s money but the club again claim the reason was that they wore the traditional white and navy colours to mark Hyde’s anniversary.

All in all, it seems to be a win-win situation and, when the deal comes to a close at the end of this season, the ground will be repainted, the club will remain intact without any debt and Hyde fans will be able to cheer on a team that has just retained its Conference status for next year.

One would venture that, when the deal was first agreed, most Hyde fans would have settled for a few years of consolidation with little drama.

That’s certainly not been the case though. Last season the club, with what was rumoured to be one of the more limited budgets in the league, clinched the title and now sit pretty in 15th place in the Conference.

Not bad for a part-time side with the fourth lowest average attendance in the league of 789 which is sandwiched between the top two clubs in the country in City and United.

It’s also impressive when you consider that Gary Lowe and Martin Booty, the duo who got Hyde promoted to the Conference resigned their posts just a few weeks after the title win due to budget disagreements.

Few things are easy in non-league football, especially when you’re dining at its top table as a smaller club, but Hyde seem to keep on bouncing back.

It’s perhaps why their fans are so keen to put people right who doubt them about the City deal or try to knock them by claiming that they let their club die, this being evident in a topic on their forum entitled “Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Hyde FC But Were Afraid To Ask”.

I suppose haters are always going to hate, especially from fans of supposedly bigger non-clubs around the Manchester area, but the accusations and hurdles don’t seem to be doing Hyde FC any harm at all.

Now, as I’ve said before on this very website, I’m opposed to goal-line technology, on the grounds that it’s inconsistent to utilise such witchcraft to clarify whether the ball has crossed the line when the rest of the passage of play that led to the ball being in the vicinity of the line in the first place remains the domain of the referee, and thus open to human error. Technology must be all-pervasive or non-existent.

Take the example from another England game that influenced the debate, the Euro 2012 group stage clash with Ukraine. With the score at 1-0, the TV cameras showed that, despite the best efforts of John Terry, a Marko Dević shot had crossed the line. Naturally, Ukraine were outraged. However, it turned out Artem Milevskiy, who provided the assist that never was, was actually offside when he played the ball to Dević. Goal-line technology would have incorrectly awarded a goal, thanks to its blind and wilful ignorance of the crucial seconds prior to the ball crossing the line. Officiating can’t be done in isolation – that’s why referees play advantage, and add stoppage time to the end of the game.

In the past few months, however, I’ve come to accept that my position on goal-line technology is shared only by Uefa president Michel Platini, and for different reasons. Fine: if there is such clamour for technology, let’s pick a model to adopt and implement it across all the world’s top-tier leagues. Sure, that’s not totally fair either – doesn’t football thrive as a result of its universality and simplicity? – but it’s a start, and it’s certainly more practicable than installing a camera system or a ball-chip system at every league football ground in the world.

But no. Instead, Fifa, ever the proponent of free-market Thatcherism, has decided to allow its own regional bodies – Uefa, Conmebol, Caf, et cetera – and the individual national bodies and league systems under its jurisdiction to make their own decisions on goal-line technology, and to open up the bidding to all and sundry if the give it the go-ahead. As a result, Fifa has awarded the contract for the 2013 Confederations Cup and 2014 World Cup to German company GoalControl, the Premier League has picked Wimbledon line-judge Hawk-Eye, and Platini’s Uefa has entertained no bids whatsoever. A third technology, Germany-based Cairos, has also been approved by Fifa, so a total of three different goal-line technologies are vying for big-money contracts across the globe. Talk about inconsistency.

You could argue that, on a practical level, it doesn’t really matter if some leagues use technology and others don’t. The rules, after all, have not changed – the Premier League is just getting a bit of “help” in enforcing them correctly. But when the world’s leagues are all connected by continental competitions, such as the Champions League, it’s really not acceptable that some teams can benefit – or lose out – as a result of technology that’s not being applied in other leagues.

Next season, the Premier League’s clubs’ final league positions will be influenced directly by goal-line technology, while those of the Bundesliga, La Liga, Serie A, Ligue Un and the rest will not. When Real Sociedad or St-Etienne or Mainz miss out on a European place by two points thanks to a goal-line dispute while Everton or Southampton or Newcastle march into the Europa League thanks to an extra point courtesy of Hawk-Eye’s intervention, who is going to turn around and tell them nothing is amiss?

Messi, as you may be aware, is a rather talented football player. So talented in fact, that despite having a hamstring as tight as James Brown’s rhythm section, he was still able to display enough pace and trickery to draw three PSG players in his jinky wake, before playing a ball that eventually found its way to an unmarked Pedro to score.

So if effectively removing one of Messi’s legs isn’t enough to stop him being a rampant footballing force – if he can single-handedly bamboozle a team put together at the cost of more than 20 contentious ex-Prime Minister’s funerals while nursing an injury that would cause most mortals to forego standing up, much less participation in elite athletic activity – then how can he ever be stopped?

That is the question we posed to a panel of the finest tactical minds in the land. These are their responses:

André Villas-Boas, Tottenham Hotspur coach

“First of all, Messi prefers to operate in the vacant territory created by the latency in recovery between the secondary and tertiary midfield stations. His lateral transference creates spatial dissonance in the personnel cycles that are such a basic part of pre-reactive defensive schemes in the high-block strategic configuration.

“Clearly then, the primary option is to have a rotational defensive responsibility assigned on a situational basis, with satellite programs designed to eliminate as many pass-selection recourses as possible. By working to channel Messi’s ludic circumstances into a pre-designated optimum alternative, you can maximise your opportunities to contextualise his influence, allowing the team’s functional side-outs to retrieve position and initiate a retro-incursive response.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to explain that to Michael Dawson in terms that he will understand.”

(Villas-Boas leaves, carrying a glove puppet, a colouring book and the air of a man resigned to failure)

Paolo di Canio, Sunderland coach

“What you don’t understand is that most tactical battles are won before the game even kicks off. If ever I face Messi, I make a few calls and he never makes it to the stadium, capisce?”

Harry Redknapp, Queens Park Rangers coach

“Well, ‘e’s a triffic lad the boy Messi, but nah, I don’t know nuffink about making an offer for ‘im – you’d ‘ave to ask the chairman about that. Obviously we’d love to ‘ave ‘im ‘ere, but we’ve already got a lot of quality lads like Taarabt, Zamora and Mackie in that position.

“Stop ‘im from playing? Oh, well… I suppose I’d sign ‘im. That normally does the trick.”

Paul Lambert, Aston Villa coach

“For me, it’s all about hiding your best weapons in plain sight. I’ve just signed a 19 year old from Macclesfield whose name and haircut are so bland you actually struggle to perceive him when he’s standing in front of you. Put him on Messi, and the Argentine will forget he’s even there. Then when he’s about to pull the trigger, our lad strikes! That’s the advantage of having players in your team like… um… I want to say David? Or maybe he’s called Ian… Anyway, he’s a top prospect, whoever he is.”

Arsène Wenger, Arsenal coach

“Why would I try to stop Messi? He is the personification of the type of beauty in football that I strive for every day – to stop him would be a crime. When we play Messi, I instruct my players to applaud – you have to have the courage of your convictions. Besides, if any of my players perform even halfway competently against Barcelona they simply buy him, and frankly I’m running out of footballers at this rate.”

Brendan Rodgers, Liverpool coach

“Just before kick off, I’d look Lucas in the eye and tell him he’s a Hoover. I’d have him visualise the attributes of Hoover, the Hoover’s courage, its spirit, its perfect suitability for its appointed task. Once he had a hold of that mental energy, I’d tell him to be a Hoover, and to go out and clean up the Mess…i. The Messi. Don’t worry, you’ll get it in a minute.”

Tony Pulis, Stoke City coach

“Oh, I dunno… give Shawcross a big stick? It’s not something I’ll ever have to worry about, to be fair.”

In a way, the game represents a battle between new and old in Australia football, as the Wanderers face a Brisbane side who can trace their history back to 1957, and have two league titles to their name.

Although a current 12 game winning streak may suggest victory for Western Sydney is likely, whatever the result the Wanderers can be proud of an incredible season. After starting slowly, and not scoring their first goal until round four, the side rocketed up the ladder to snatch the A-League Premiership from Central Coast Mariners.

But to get a real understanding of the significance of the Wanderers’ achievement, it’s important to describe their rocky road to the A-League.

From even before the league’s beginning, groups have advocated for a team in the western suburbs of Sydney. Thus Professional Footballers Australia’s farsighted report in 2002 on the establishment of a competition to replace the old National Soccer League emphasised the importance of having at least two, if not three teams in Sydney.

Almost a decade after that report was released, the New South Wales capital still only had a lone A-League representative. This failure was not for a lack of trying however, and indeed several attempts to start a second side had been made. Ultimately though, the so called home of Australian football still lacked representation in the national competition.

With the A-League struggling as newly formed clubs collapsed left, right and centre, it would take a bold bet to set the league back on a prosperous path. And on the 4th of April 2012, that bet came in the form of the yet-to-be-named Western Sydney team.

Despite being backed by Football Federation Australia and the Australian government, many were dubious that a club could go from nothing to being able to field a side in the forthcoming season only six months later.

While the signing of manager Tony Popovic a month later may have been greeted with approval, the 39-year-old’s lack of experience didn’t soothe the worries of many sceptical fans. Popovic had spent several years working as an assistant manager, but nothing would prepare him for the task of building a new club from scratch.

Eventually the players started to trickle in, but again the slowly assembled roster didn’t allay the fears of many. A combination of untried youngsters, off contract veterans and the odd foreigner was certainly a good start, yet would it stand up to the pressures of A-League football? Unsurprisingly, the Wanderers were a common tip for the wooden spoon.

With the new season looming, rumours that German star Michael Ballack was considering a switch to the Wanderers quickly caught the media’s attention, only for the team to instead choose little known Japanese midfielder Shinji Ono. Although Ono was well regarded and had some European experience, he was hardly a player of Ballack’s reputation. With their marquee signing arriving only a week before their first ever A-League game, doubt lingered in the minds of many.

Yet somehow, against all odds, the Wanderers did not fail like so many had expected. After a slow start, Popovic’s side quickly rose up the table. Ono was regularly talked about as one of the signings of the season, as were several of Western Sydney’s other new players.

An immensely passionate supporters group has flourished, and bar a few minor incidents, the Red and Black Bloc have been credited with creating possibly the best match day atmosphere in the A-League. And the Wanderers have even managed to attract international press coverage, with the New York Times website running a piece on the team recently.

All in all, it has been an incredible rise for the Wanderers, and they now find themselves just two games shy of claiming the A-League double in their first ever season. As bragging right achievements go, that is not too shabby.

And so they face perennial powerhouse Brisbane Roar on Friday night (AEST), in the first A-League semi final of the weekend. If the Popovic-led team can trump the Queenslanders, they’ll face the winner of Sunday afternoon’s game between Central Coast and Melbourne Victory in the Grand Final.

The game also takes on an emotional significance for the Wanderers after the tragic death of their media manager Rod Allen over the Easter weekend. The highly respected former-journalist had played an important role in the new side’s development, and will be sorely missed by all.

The Wanderers will therefore go into the semi final with many things on their mind. Having won all three regular season games against the Roar, the home side will be confident a place in the Championship decider is within reach.

If they can go all the way, the achievement will arguably represent one of the greatest accomplishments in world football of recent years. From being a solitary dream in the mind of many fans to a fully fledged club lifting the A-League title in just over a year would be a great footballing fairytale.

And as fairytales go, that might be hard to beat.

As the spotlights slowly shifts towards the field of play, it’s worth remembering that Di Canio, seen as such a controversial appointment, isn’t a newcomer to English football management.  He has gained his chance at a higher level after guiding Swindon Town, an ailing Football League club, from League Two to within touching distance of the Championship. His availability suggests that Swindon may have more reason than his political leanings to resent his rise to prominence. Sadly for the club left in Paolo’s shadow, this isn’t the first time they’ve found themselves held down by the hands of fate.

The County Ground, home of Swindon Town, lies next to the town’s most notorious landmark – a tortuous loop of bewildering road junctions known as The Magic Roundabout. Like many of their fellow West Country clubs, Swindon have largely muddled along in comfortable anonymity. Swindon Town are unique among league clubs only because, as the classic quiz question tells us, their name contains none of the letters of the word ‘mackerel’. Much like the roads that lead to their ground however, Swindon are a seemingly average club with chaos and legend at its heart.

The jewel in Swindon’s potted history, despite better documented recent events, remains the 1969 League Cup final. Facing an imperious Arsenal side, the third division Town were deserved winners, local legend Don Rogers scoring an extra time winner, as Arsenal showed that it wasn’t just their future generations that could throw away a final. As League Cup winners, Swindon earned a place in Europe – only to be denied by their lower league status.

Their next moment in the spotlight, 21 years later, again showed the club’s taste for the big occasion - but also the habit that the fates had for ruining their big day. Swindon won the 1990 Division Two playoff final, beating Sunderland, of all teams, 1-0. Ossie Ardiles had led his charges along a winding road to Wemberley - only to have his dream snatched away. A host of financial irregularities were exposed, and the team were denied a debut season in the top flight.

Led on and off the field by unflappable player-manager Glenn Hoddle, Swindon emerged anew in 1992/93. Armed with an arsenal of dependable talents like Martin Ling, Nicky Summerbee and Paul Bodin, Hoddle manoeuvred his side to victory in one of the great playoff finals. Leading Leicester 3-0, Wiltshire shook as Leicester levelled, and looked set to deny Swindon all over again. A Paul Bodin penalty was enough to send Swindon sprawling over the line, and headfirst into the Premier League.

One of the great joys of the English football pyramid is the impact that a freshly promoted team can make in its new, rarefied surroundings. For every Newcastle United, there must, alas, be a Derby County. Swindon were the latter - a skilful team suffocated by the rigours of top flight football. Again, fate played its part. Hoddle seemed the kind of experienced, cool headed character they needed to eke out survival. On the eve of the season’s start, he departed for Stamford Bridge, leaving apprehensive assistant John Gorman in his wake.
This very website recently claimed that Gorman once insisted on a contract clause allowing him to follow Hoddle to pastures new. Swindon’s season in the sun goes a long way to explaining that decision. Swindon’s adventure in the top flight began, and continued, with a flurry of goals - unfortunately, they were all at the wrong end. Even when they were competitive, the Robins found a way to lose – a memorable late Oldham winner at the County Ground reducing Gorman to a quivering wreck on the dugout floor.

Town shipped 100 goals, a Premier League record, and won just five times all season. In early spring, a heavy home defeat to Liverpool ensured there’d be no encore to Swindon’s catastrophic debut. As the final whistle blew, the local radio commentator burst into tears. Life in the big time was bloody and brutal for this overachieving club, caught cold by their leader’s late defection. The intervening years have offered little else than downward momentum, coupled with further cruel blows.

In 2009/10, Swindon returned to Wembley for the League One play-off final, seeking a fourth straight Wembley win. At 0-0 against Millwall, Swindon’s wonder kid, Charlie Austin, had an unmissable chance - but the ball hit a bobble on the grass, and Swindon’s destiny sailed comically into the stands. Millwall prevailed, and both the Lions and Austin himself are now prospering in the Championship. Swindon, their sails tattered once more, plummeted into the fourth tier the following season.

It was then that they took what seemed a hopeless gamble - opting not to appoint a seasoned hand to work the tiller, but giving the hot tempered, ref chasing Italian tyro, Paolo Di Canio, his first job in management. The arrival of Di Canio at a listing mid-size football league club appeared an appointment bound to end in farce - like Tony Montana running a branch of Rymans. As it transpired, Di Canio turned out to be a canny lower league manager - when he wasn’t publicly berating players, fans or the club’s owners.

After a chaotic decade drifting down the leagues, Swindon found renewed purpose, and cruised to the League Two title. This season, led once more by a charismatic figure who’s much better behind the dressing room door than a microphone, the Robins soared towards a return to the Championship. Then, just a month ago, fate intervened once more. After 18 tempestuous months in charge, Di Canio walked.
Shock and disappointment turned to farce as the Italian broke back into his own office to collect a few unnamed ‘personal items’. It was another bizarre chapter in the history of the club, and had left the team rudderless once again. The board handed the reins to Kevin McDonald until the end of the season, and Swindon currently lie sixth, their sails sagging as they cling to a place in the playoff shootout. It’s befitting for a club based in a railway town that their timing is so consistently appalling.

As Paolo Di Canio begins a new life on the big stage, spare a thought for his former club, dealt another body blow in an endless search for stability. In the wake of their rollercoaster ride with di Canio, the board and fans of this unassuming club would doubtless settle for a year or two of consolidation - free of bungs, bobbles and break-ins. For this quiet club, nestled near the vortex of the Magic Roundabout, things are rarely that simple. With their controversial, charismatic leader gone, Swindon Town may find they miss the drama.

To me, there is little doubt in my mind that the culture of Premier League football at the time – particularly the view that that Arsenal’s passing game meant that they were soft, that you could “kick them out of the game” – combined with the noted disparity between the tolerance for violent conduct by match officials in England as opposed to the European continent contributed mightily to this sad portion of the late 2000’s in Arsenal’s history. Obviously, none of the horror tackles in and of themselves could be directly attributed to such forces, but the fact that the same club had three such leg-breaking tackles in such a condensed period of time says to me that there was a general trend of pushing the envelope on challenges against Arsenal. These three tackles were essentially bound to happen sooner or later if clubs kept setting out the way they did against Arsenal. Match after match, tackle after tackle, over the course of several seasons, the three or four poorest decisions by opponents, even with no intent to injure whatsoever, were likely to lead to terrible injuries. And so they did. 

While the careers of Aaron Ramsey, Eduardo da Silva, and Abou Diaby have not panned out according to hopes, it is also fair to say that the club has no idea where their careers mays have gone had they stayed healthy. Would Arsenal have won the Premier League if not for the Eduardo injury? What kind of player would Diaby have been had he not taken on that first injury? There is no way of knowing, and the uncertainty of that alternate history is a far more challenging tease for those who wonder than a sense that being sure could ever be. 

Still, I take two things from the “horror tackle era” at Arsenal. The first thing I feel looking back is that these players gave their bodies to help advance the Premier League into a new era of football. The chorus of voices that believe the appropriate way to play against Arsene Wenger, Brendan Rodgers, [insert name of current Chelsea manager here], or Michael Laudrup’s slick passing play is to advocate kicking them out of existence has diminished greatly over the passing years. Someone today who looked at a player like Michu and said, “let’s see how well he plays after he’s been knocked over a few times” is more likely to be seen as cave man than just a few years ago. If you can stomach clicking on the link to the Abou Diaby challenge, you’ll see Alan Smith essentially saying that the tackle was a red card, but understandable. Compare that to the reactions to Callum McManaman’s recent challenge, and it becomes impossible to imagine that if Dan Smith’s challenge on Diaby had happened in 2013, that anyone but people from his club would come to his defence in the least. 

Further, the tactical diversity that has sprung up in the passing systems employed by Premier League managers signals a growing confidence from clubs that the culture of the league is more protective of technical sides than in years past.  It is fair to say that more and more recently promoted sides come into the Premier League with the intent of attacking and holding onto the ball as a means to stay in matches. This is in and of itself a sign that the conventional wisdom of old that physical play is the only way to survive if the other team has more technical ability has been overturned. 

Surely, physical play has not been banished from the game, nor should it be. A team with stronger players or more athletic players than their opponent has every right to press that advantage, and besides, as the old adage goes, a contrast in styles makes for good fights. But physical play is now one of a plurality of tactical options, rather than the near universal weapon of choice. 

Secondly I look back on the whole awful tackle trilogy and reflect on champions and how fragile a championship season truly can be. For some reason, many people seem to tend towards making champions post hoc obviously deserving of their title because of some greatness inside of them that made things inevitable. I look at Arsenal during the horror challenge era and see the opposite. The Chelsea and Manchester United clubs that won during that era, as well as the various League Cup, FA Cup and Champions League winners, they all had to navigate the path of uncertainty that every time they step onto the field some unfortunate fate might befall their season, and indeed, might even fell the very physical integrity of their bodies. To me, we celebrate champions not for transcending the odds, but for enduring them. We can also celebrate the so-called “also-rans” for submitting themselves to the same uncertainty of the contest, and the ways in which fortune may affect the trajectory of their own lives. They all enter the stage to write an unwritten story, not knowing if they might be a hero, a victim, or even a villain. 

This may be the least flashy newsflash to ever blink across your eyes, but it doesn’t make the news part any less true. A 15-point cushion and a cluster of rivals who are either lacklustre, limited or waging a cold war against their own coach mean that club captain Nemanja Vidić has been incorporating trophy-lifting and crowd-saluting routines into his own detailed pre-planned training and medical programme for some months now.

This fait is now so accompli that Alex Ferguson this week stated that his target for this season is now to break the record Premier League points total, set at 95 by the muscular vintage of José Mourinho’s 2004-05 Chelsea team. At time of writing, United require 22 points from the 27 that remain available to them – a tricky proposition, but by no means impossible when you cast an eye over their remain fixtures, and factor in a lack of European competition to stretch their resources.

But this United team? Record breakers? Really?

When you think back over the great United sides of recent history, they had at least one department of transcendent, pantheon-level quality. The 2008 team boasted a fluid front three of Cristiano Ronaldo, Wayne Rooney and a pre-tantrum era Carlos Tévez that flitted and interchanged and scored and scored and scored with a joyous, purposeful abandon. The chemistry of those three players at that exact point of their respective careers was glorious, lightning-in-a-bottle stuff, and no team has been able to truly replicate it since.

The 1999 side possessed a four-man unit that will be brought up in misty-eyed pub conversations about the all-time great midfields for generations to come. If more squads today were able to blend the steel and artistry of that Giggs-Scholes-Keane-Beckham axis, reports of the death of 4-4-2 might have been slightly less exaggerated.

Comparing those past team-sheets to today’s must be a harrowing exercise for United fans. When you consider the mediocrity of a Young-Anderson-Carrick-Valencia midfield, whose only function is to play with bare minimum competence for long enough to allow Robin van Persie’s brilliance to secure a win, you have to wonder if that fabled Ferguson wine cellar didn’t start out life in the Glaswegian’s home as a collection of bottled water.

So no, Manchester United are not eyeballing a place in history thanks to the raw power of their scintillating team, but rather are fortunate to playing in a season where every top club is caught up in a transitional period, but United’s is less transitory than the others.

Spurs are transitioning up the way – a new coach, a new philosophy and new personnel have them on their way towards challenging for next year’s title, providing they can keep Gareth Bale and add some depth to the front and sides of their player pool. Some typically down-to-the-wire transfer dealings in the summer meant that their transition began too late for them to seriously worry United during this campaign though, and instead they remain focused on securing Champions League Qualification and Europa League glory without Spursing the whole thing up in the manner that they’re desperately trying to transist away from.

Arsenal meanwhile, are transitioning down. A crippling belief in a philosophy of cheap, home grown talent that’s getting the formula two-thirds right but stumbling on the last bit has forced the Gunners into title-irrelevancy this year. United’s trip to the Emirates at the end of April remains the biggest threat to their record-hunting as a one-off event, but over the course of the season Arsenal started far from the top-spot and have only drifted as time goes by.

Chelsea are transitioning up, down, side-to-side and demented circles all at once. Heavy investment in Eden Hazard and Oscar to complement Juan Mata in a dynamic attacking midfield was a step forward. Minimal investment in half a season of Demba Ba and set of patented automated finger-crossers to aim at the spectre of Fernando Torres as a replacement for Didier Drogba was a step back. Failure to reconcile the inversely powerful influence of the triple-headed ego of John Terry, Frank Lampard and Ashley Cole on the pitch as compared to in the dressing room was a step into sticking fingers in ears and hoping the problem would go away. Throw in a desperately uncertain coaching situation and there is no way to tell where this Chelsea team will ultimately end up.

Manchester City are transitioning inside-out. Last season an incredible work ethic allowed them to overcome the arrival of the Tévez tantrum era to snatch the title. This year, only Carlos has looked completely engaged while a Samir Nasri level of fecklessness has swept through the rest of the squad. Perhaps this was a top-down non-committal sigh of a season – the players seem tired of Roberto Mancini, and last summer was the first of Sheikh Mansour’s reign that didn’t see a true superstar join the club. You can perhaps understand why the team interpreted this as a sign that they should build a cosy nest out the laurels they earned last season and get to resting.

You can only play what’s in front of you, as they say – and looking at the quality of the obstacles between Man United and the record they suggests a very large and problematic asterisk should be pasted next their potential achievement. However, while the 2004-05 Chelsea held off an Arsenal team who had only just stopped being Invincible, the rest of their challengers were not much more impressive than the current top of the table filler.

A trophyless United came third while handing an awful lot of starts to Roy Carroll, Alan Smith and Mikaël Silvestre. Fourth spot was occupied by an Everton team that, while impressive by their standards, was still an Everton team. The fact that fifth-placed Liverpool were 37 points behind Chelsea (and only ahead of Bolton on goal difference) should only emphasise how utterly mental their Champions League victory that season actually was.

Would 2005 Chelsea beat 2013 Manchester United in a one-off match? Undoubtedly. The talent, vision and philosophy of the two squads doesn’t compare – muscular unity versus ramshackle reliance on one man’s goals will never be much of a contest. Oddly though, this United team’s inherent quality is closer to their dismal rivals than Chelsea’s was, which would somehow make any potential record point total all the more impressive.

Context is key in all sporting discussions, and this United squad look set to fuel many heated pub debates on the subject of greatness. However, it will certainly be the greatness of their achievements, and not the team itself, that will set jaws a-flapping.

Considering the two factors of cost and entertainment are what ultimately dictates a fan’s decision to go to the match, its little wonder why the German football experience is becoming increasingly popular to the British, and why it had become a pilgrimage my friends and I had to make.

In Germany, it’s all about you, the fan. The 50+1 rule, where a minimum of 51 per cent of the club must be owned by its members, is the basis of this, allowing fans to have a say in how the club is run while still allowing for major outside investment. It’s a model that might not work for all clubs, but does show respect to the fans that keep them running.

We were among 80,000 of them at the Westfalenstadion on the Saturday to see Borussia Dortmund face Freiburg, and boy, they let us know about it. At times it was difficult to know what was more impressive: the thrilling display on the pitch, where Robert Lewandowski inspired Dortmund to a 5-1 win, or Europe’s largest standing terrace opposite us. The ‘Yellow Wall’ was a relentless noise machine from an hour before kick-off until after the final whistle - breathtakingly high, fearsomely wide and undoubtedly intimidating, it’s as little as £10 to become one of the wall’s 25,000 bricks.

We had paid slightly more than this for our tickets (£25 each), but we still got plenty for our money. For starters, the train journey to the ground from our base in Dusseldorf was included in the price, which is a standard rule across the Bundesliga for games in the same region. Other matchday staples such as beer and snacks came in cheaper too. The choice of sausages and burgers washed down with local brew was an improvement on the generic offerings in England, and was obtained without the hassle of queuing for 20 minutes thanks to Dortmund’s efficient fan card system.

A couple of seasons back, Arsenal experimented with reading out the first names of players and encouraging the crowd to shout back the second names. It failed, as did the embarrassing attempt at making Elvis Presley’s The Wonder of You the club song. It’s probably got something to do with the reserved nature of the British and the shyness at expressing themselves in public. It couldn’t have been more different in Dortmund. Every supporter joined in with the anthem, a stirring if simple number, and was transfixed on the stadium announcer as the teams were announced, booming back the second names as if it was a duty.

On the pitch, the home side started slowly, but thanks to Lewandowski, who took his goals fantastically and created the fifth with a superb solo run, they ran out comfortable winners. Nuri Sahin, the returning hero for whom the biggest cheer of the day was reserved, also scored twice. We returned our fan cards and had refunded any unspent money (complimentary bags of crisps were also being dished out). From right outside the ground and with our ears still ringing, we got a tram back to Hauptbahnhof.

On the way back to Dusseldorf we got chatting to Jerome, who’d just been standing in the Yellow Wall. His confidence that Dortmund’s fans make a genuine difference to how the team performs was firm. “We have some great players,” he told us over a can of Krombacher. “But they would be nothing without us. If we’re not there then maybe we wouldn’t even be in the Champions League. We create the atmosphere and they respond, that’s how it goes.”

Jerome was with five friends who seemed typical of the type of fan we’d come across: young, happy, polite, loud and decked head-to-toe in merch. His team had won, and he knew he’d played a part. I was inclined to agree.

The following day we had tickets for Borussia Monchengladbach vs Hannover, two sides hanging on to ambitions of a Champions League spot. Dusseldorf’s Old Town, known as ‘the longest bar in the world’, had had its way with us the night before, but with sore heads vanquished by frikadellen and fresh air, we headed for Gladbach early, keen for more of the same as yesterday.

Except, we hadn’t really done our research. There isn’t a great deal to do in Gladbach, especially on a Sunday, when nothing opens in Germany. We also realised after about an hour of wandering the streets that the ground wasn’t anywhere near the city centre. So we jumped in a taxi and about 20 minutes later stopped outside what looked like a spaceship in the middle of a car park – Borussia Park.

We could’ve been wrong, but it seemed there were no pubs around the ground. There was plenty of drinking on the street, but the weather called for a warmer pre-match watering hole. In the end, the only option was to go into the ground two hours before kick-off. This worked out quite well: again, the beer and snacks were cheap and varied, and the Hanover fans to our right had congregated early to mark their territory. Also, the day’s other game between Frankfurt and Stuttgart was being shown on the big screens – a pretty good incentive for fans to get in early and begin creating the atmosphere.

When wandering between our seats, the bars and the toilets before kick-off, it was apparent that away fans were using all the same facilities. There was absolutely no segregation on the concourse, and crucially not a hint of trouble. It’s hard to imagine this being the case in England, whoever was playing, and again emphasised the trust the clubs have in their fans.

Truth be told, the game wasn’t quite the treat we’d witnessed the day before. Luuk De Jong’s first half goal, neatly finished after a gorgeous through ball from man-of-the-match Patrick Hermann, separated the two sides. Hanover’s direct tactics created little, but their fans – supplemented by a megaphone and drum – were constantly loud. Gladbach’s Nordkurv did a great job too, the hollering back and forward with our Sudkurve impressive throughout. It was another mightily comfortable and compelling way to watch football. 

After the game, it dawned how simple matchday transport can be. There was no fuss with our journey back to Dusseldorf – an endless supply of shuttle buses ferrying the throng to Hauptbahnhof, then trains ready and waiting as we arrived. No faffing with tickets, no queues, and just enough time to pick up some beers for the ride.

This simplicity is part of what makes watching football in Germany so perfect. It’s not rocket science: ask any English fan whether they’d like cheaper tickets, travel and food & drink, along with quality football and an incredible atmosphere. Then there’s the peace of mind that thanks to the club’s structures, fans are making as much difference as they can without getting on the pitch and playing themselves. They play a part, and for one weekend, so did we.

As Borussia Dortmund’s club motto goes, for us, it was Echte Liebe.

Playing in the new National Women’s Soccer League has attracted players from all over the globe, as discussed in a previous blog, with one of those drawn by the professional league being former Arsenal and Chelsea striker, Lianne Sanderson.

The 25-year-old has been signed up to play for the Boston Breakers, one of eight teams that makes up the new league, which kicks off in just under a month.

Sanderson is one of only a few players who will play out in America from the UK, but she has plenty of experience having already represented Philadelphia Independence and DC United since moving state side.

It’s a long way from South London, where Sanderson grew up, but she is looking forward to the latest chapter of her American adventure.

She said: “I am extremely excited to be joining not only a great team but organisation. I am excited to work with Lisa Cole (Manager), all the players and coaching staff, and I look forward to hopefully bringing a championship to Boston.

“I have been like a child waiting for Santa on Christmas Day. I love playing the game and I am at my happiest on the training field with my team mates.”

Sanderson was one of four free agents picked up by the Breakers after the initial draft processes had taken place, and while she is pleased to be picked up by the Massachusetts side, she admits the process isn’t one she’s a fan of.

“I was lucky enough to be one of the players protected by a team, which meant nobody else could pick me up, so I was extremely happy about Boston protecting me.

“I don’t personally like drafts. I get you have to make it fair, but I think the players should have the choice as to where they want to play.

“As a professional female soccer player, relocating constantly to new places is very difficult, but we all love the game so much, so we do it.”

With players evenly distributed amongst the eight teams, each side will have internationals and college players, making it difficult to predict who will come out on top.

While teams such as Portland will have a forward line consisting of Canada’s Christine Sinclair and U.S golden girl Alex Morgan, Sanderson believes it isn’t necessarily the teams with the biggest names that will come out on top.

She herself will be paired up front with up and coming star Sydney Leroux, and she states chemistry will play a big part in them being successful.

“I think the interesting thing about this year is no one really knows how it’s going to go. It’s not always about which team has the best players – it’s all about the quality and team chemistry.”

Sanderson will be well known to followers of the England Women’s Team having been a part of Hope Powell’s squad in the European Championships in 2009. 

However, she hasn’t been part of the England setup for a few years, having fallen out of favour, but would she welcome a call-up, should it come her way?

“I loved playing for my country and would always be proud to play for England, but not under the circumstances I was playing under before.

“I am willing to work hard and always have been, but unfortunately when some people get pre-conceived ideas about you, there is no changing there opinion.

“I will always be proud to be from England and never forget where I am from and everyone that has helped me.”

Remembering that help she has received is potentially a big reason why Sanderson set up the JoLi Academy with partner and team mate Joanna Lohmann.

The academy is designed to knock down barriers facing young girls all over the globe who want to be successful in sport, with the pair having just returned from a camp in India where 100 girls from all over the country attended.

“We also went to Jamaica in 2012 to work with an orphanage, The SOS village, where we were part of a five day camp that saw us coach and speak with lots of children from the ages of 4-16.

“We love what we do and we want to help as many people as we can. For now, we are focusing on being the best soccer players we can be, which means JoLi Academy is put on hold when we are in season.”