THE English League Cup is not football's most attractive trophy, but it seems a bit unfair to regard it as a poisoned chalice. Even teams who are never likely to win anything else disdain the little silver pot. It has become the ginger stepchild of E
nglish football, barely tolerated and never cherished.
The case for its defence would rest on the names of the last three winners: Chelsea, Manchester United and Chelsea again. Their triumphs were built on a policy of putting out weakened teams in the tournament, and taking it seriously when they reached the final.
It was a tactic that backfired/succeeded (depending on whether you believe the clubs actually wanted to win the thing) because the youth players and reserves given a rare outing in the first team seized their chance in the spotlight and played with a verve and commitment which the usual superstar incumbents at the top clubs probably wouldn't have mustered for the League Cup.
Also, those middling sorts of clubs like Bolton, Reading or Newcastle, who might have seen the trophy as an attainable target, got ideas above their station and started sending out their own reserves.
A familiar 'afteryou' atmosphere will prevail in this week's round of quarter-finals, especially as they have been scheduled just a few days before the intense Christmas league programme.
Everton, the likeliest winners on present form, have already secured their semi-final place. The teams who will join them should be the ones who want it more, but that's difficult to gauge in a competition where all the managers (not a single one of them is English, by the way) are striving to outdo each other in their insouciant disregard.
Manchester City host Tottenham on Tuesday nursing resentment at Spurs' recent lucky victory in the League, but with the substantial consolation of being the club challenging the Big Four, a role Tottenham fans had assumed was theirs at the start of the season. Juande Ramos has probably asked for an explanation of the League Cup about eight times and is figuring something got lost in translation.
Sven-Goran Eriksson has sufficient grounding in the baffling nuances of English football to know simultaneously how worthless the competition is and how much of a significant personal triumph it would be if he could drape this season's first silverware in sky-blue ribbons. Besides, City win all their home games...
In recent seasons, Blackburn versus Arsenal has always been a bit tasty. Arsene Wenger's post-match commentaries have turned into bitter elegies on wasted youth, as his physio delivers the harrowing casualty count. Indeed, you wouldn't be surprised if the usual pre-match pleasantries now amount to Robbie Savage delivering a tersely-worded declaration of war.
Blackburn's present Premier League freefall isn't going to put them in a more congenial mood, and Wenger will be unwilling to risk any of his title-chasing artistes on the Ewood Park battlefield or return the recently-repaired Cesc Fabregas to the fray.
It would be delicious if Arsenal had been nurturing a secret reserve team of muscular young psychopaths specifically for such an occasion but, for all Wenger's virtues, he lacks that sense of humour. Pity poor Theo Walcott, girded in bubblewrap and sent out with instructions to play dead when the tackles start flying. Avram Grant and Rafael Benitez would be neglectful of their Premiership ambitions if they included any key players at all in Wednesday night's encounter at Stamford Bridge.
Instead, it's an opportunity for the managers to show their respective Russian and American overlords how threadbare their wardrobes are in dvance of the January sales.
Liverpool seem to have a little more depth to their squad than Chelsea at present, with Wednesday an opportunity for a couple of internationals, Peter Crouch and Harry Kewell, to redouble their claims for a more central role in Benitez's plans than as benchwarmers.
With Chelsea set to lose important players to the African Nations Cup in January, Grant has the incentive to show how inadequate his present reserves are. Although he doesn't strike you as the type to tell Roman Abramovich how to spend his money. Benitez is less reticent, as we know.
We have the bizarre possibility of both managers willing their sides to look callow and unimpressive. Footballers being perverse creatures, we'll probably end up with a thrilling display of invention and dazzling technique.
The full article contains 744 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
