Bad Reasons for Team Selection

A certain footballer tried it on with my girlfriend. At the time this player was a youth team player in a local team. He has since moved from club to club, climbing up the leagues, getting first team action and proving himself before winning a transfer to a higher placed club until last season he made his debut for a premier league club.

Ok, so the incident in question was a while ago. Alright, fine, it was nearly ten years ago. And said girl and I split up around seven years ago.  

Anyway, the guy had played for a few consecutive matches, and it was wildcard month. He was a budget player; an absolute steal. A differential with a great set of fixtures lined up. This was an opportunity. But I refused to draft him in.

That showed him, right?

Anyway, this is one of the many stupid reasons I have considered for not picking a player. Below are some more:

Unpronounceable/un-spellable name

Ass-pil-quet-to? Va-shee-lef-ski? Szhczchezczsny? (Bless you) Schlupp? If you’re a real FPL addict you know you’ll be repeating your squad to your mates, and typing your teamsheet out time and again on Fantasy Football Scout. So why choose Sunderland defender Réveillere when you know how to spell ‘Wes Brown’? Why worry if those Arsenal midfielders names are pronounced ‘urgh-sil’ or ‘oh-zil’, or ‘ro-sicky’ or ‘ro-zix-ski’, when you know perfectly well how to pronounce ‘wal-co-’, innit?

Doesn’t look like a footballer

I am thinking specifically about Peter Crouch, here. There are plenty of talented (and less talented)players out there who look like they should be doing something else, like Adi Akinbiyi (boxer), Zinedine Zidane (monk), Wayne Rooney (nightclub doorman), Martin Keown (star in Planet of the Apes), David Luiz (Krusty the Clown sidekick), and Maroanne Fellaini (microphone). The list is endless, but Crouch just looked like a giant twig. I was always so worried that he might just snap in half, and this is coming from someone who was nicknamed ‘spider-legs’ as a teenager! It’s so difficult to use your common sense to dissect the stats when your eyes are telling you that the player can’t last another game without breaking, or being used for kindling.

They play for your enemy team.

You can probably imagine how, as a Spurs fan, I have suffered over the years through not picking Arsenal players. The wicked Walcott, foul Fabregas and the villainous Van Persie have all ruined my seasons in the past. Everton fans must feel my pain, refusing to pick Luis Suarez. Or Man City fans who have missed out on (that man again) Van Persie. I have more recently taken a more objective position with player selection, but it’s just so difficult to cheer these players on, even when you’ve captained them.

Personal connection / meeting

I don’t happen to know any professional footballers directly, and I never actually met the goalkeeper mentioned earlier, but I did live down the street from Jonjo Shelvey, and would watch the cheeky youngster running circles around his friends as I walked to the local shops. He has made his way into my team before purely on that basis.

A ‘sign’

I once spent the morning at work (in Next retailers in Romford) trying to decide who to fill my last defender slot out of Paul Konchesky and Anton Ferdinand (work was not particularly riveting). Half way through the day Paul Konchesky walked through the door to browse over the Home section. He was immediately drafted into my squad...and barely ever left my bench.

Kit colour.

Sometimes you already have enough red and white striped kits in your team, and really don’t need that Stoke defender, or you just feel like your squad would look a lot more aggressive if your starting eleven all have red tops. And I'm not the only person to worry about these things....

Un-personality of the year.

John Terry. I just watch his points accumulate for other teams. Year after year.

Mistrust

Admit it, after Euro 2008 you didn’t want to go anywhere near Cristiano ‘the winker’ Ronaldo. After seemingly deliberately getting our golden angle – yes, Rooney – sent off, the devil himself amongst England fans immediately started banging the goals in from the wing upon his return to the boo’s of stadia around the country, and I simply left it too late to purchase the winker.