Walcott will start at the World Cup
Theo Walcott is a strange footballer. In some ways he doesn't seem like a footballer at all, and not just because he has an air of quiet humility and seems unlikely ever to have a fight with a nightclub toilet attendant or let off a fire extinguisher during a guided tour of a hospice. There is also a gaucheness to his play. In a recent column Chris Waddle basically advised him to pack it in and take up sprinting instead. But Walcott is still going to be first choice for England at the World Cup because this weekend we learned both Aaron Lennon and David Beckham have tournament-threatening injuries. Plus, Fabio Capello likes Walcott for his athleticism, his esprit de corps and that sole, baffling hat-trick.
There is also a lack of competition generally. This weekend the only other Englishmen on the right of midfield in the Premier League were Craig Gardner, Chris Eagles, Craig Fagan and Ashley Young, a genuine alternative who has fallen out of favour. Should we worry? Walcott has one extreme quality: his speed. He also has a coolness. As he showed against Hull briefly, he is capable of "clicking", of appearing to have unstoppable moments after appearing not to know how to play football at all.
Maybe we will have to get used to seeing him as a moment-player, one who has an extreme intermittent impact, like a fast bowler in cricket, or a big turning leg-spinner. England's midfield is solid and ageing. It does need a random element. After this weekend, and barring injury, it looks certain to have one.
Berbatov and Bendtner and a grudging show of patience
Dimitar Berbatov was Manchester United's best player against Fulham. He surged from deep. He won headers. He now has six goals in his last 10 Premier League games. This might not have happened. Berbatov has been diffident at United until recently. He is an indie band type of centre-forward: reticently expert, shoe-gazingly world-beating and needing to be teased gently centre stage (as opposed to, say, the spandex pomp rock power chords of Cristiano Ronaldo).
The point is that Berbatov would perhaps not have got this chance to shine from behind his fringe if it wasn't for the spending freeze that has affected even Champions League clubs. The same might have happened to Nicklas Bendtner at Arsenal, or Florent Malouda at Chelsea, both of whom shone this weekend in headline roles that once seemed unlikely.
The lack of personnel turnover has been beneficial for these high-ranking fringe-surplus players, the tin-of-beans player who might have been pushed to the back of the larder in more prosperous moments but finally gets to prove his worth when the fridge is empty. The strength of Manchester United, Chelsea and Arsenal's deep-larder reserves – whichever semi-second choicers want to step up the most – might well decide who wins the league.
Roberto Martínez is now annoying
Like a cut-price Arsène Wenger – without the trophies or the pedigree, but with, instead, Jason Scotland – Roberto Martínez has spent the season preaching the virtues of his team's style of play. Martínez is a vocal puritan. Even after the weekend defeat at Bolton he claimed an illusory high ground, saying: "The 4-0 scoreline from a football point of view is laughable."
We have seen this kind of thing before. Tony Mowbray's West Bromwich Albion went down last season all the while feeling really, really good about themselves. The Premier League is unforgiving. This is before anything else a game of physical power and error-elimination. Martínez wants to play "nice" football, but he also signed Gary Caldwell in January, who made several goal-gifting and generally not-very-nice mistakes against Bolton.
Defending is still "football" and Martínez's attitude is a little disrespectful to other clubs in Wigan's position. It also manages the impressive feat of turning a potential object of affection (plucky underdog plays its way out of trouble) into something off-puttingly sanctimonious.
Last week Hugo Rodallega suggested Wigan only play well against successful teams. They play Portsmouth, Burnley, West Ham and Hull in the next few weeks. Martínez might do well to back himself out of a rather stiff-collared corner before his players start really believing him.
City players aren't ready to share in that way
Immediately after Adam Johnson's well-executed equalising goal at Sunderland Roberto Mancini attempted a José Mourinho-style touchline dash, one which was clearly intended to end in a rapturous overcoated bundle with his adoring first-teamers. Much is read into these things when they come off. Who could forget Alessandro Diamanti's shouty and slightly frightening embrace of Gianfranco Zola earlier in the season? So what to make of the fact that no one really joined in with Mancini? Mainly it adds to the impression that City are still a strange team, not entirely happy in their own skin. They may have lost only four games this season, fewer than any other team, but somehow their efforts still seem frantic and defiant and unsettled.
The manager's job is unique at a club like City. Undermined on all sides by directorial ambition, he must still somehow convey an air of being settled among his players. City may well end up in fourth spot this year. But somehow you feel Mancini, who really wants a hug, will end up instead with an arm around the shoulder, a short walk and a grateful handshake.
Delap's dedication enters book of records
Rory Delap took 19 long throws during Stoke City's goalless draw with Aston Villa on Saturday. This is one long throw every 4.7 minutes. Given that Delap takes on average between 20 and 30 seconds to wipe down, wind up and let go, this adds up to at least nine minutes spent watching a man do a long throw. It also represents up to half a kilometre of ball-throwing in one match by one man, surely some kind of record.
Delap is really good at long throws. It is a prodigious and legitimate weapon, one that forces teams to pick centre-halves who can defend properly (Richard Dunne and James Collins can be proud of their clean sheet). But still. Is it really much fun to watch for Stoke fans? Is the 17th long throw as thrilling as the second or third? Very few of us have had the chance to find out. Either way, it represents a feat of style-refinement that you have to admire, a remarkably determined – and anti-Martínez – definition of what the word "football" means.
