The game in Spain says no to Newcastle

At the beginning of September there is a fun tradition in Spain to speculate on the hot topic of when, Atlético Madrid manager, Javier Aguirre will be sacked by his trigger happy bosses, what method they will employ in doing so and who will be the unfortunate sap replacing him.

So it is with a slight sob of sadness and a quivering lip that La Liga Loca must report that this fine run of festive fun has been broken.

These days, Atlético Madrid are very much with the smug and serene having dished out eight goals without reply to a shambolic Schalke and a muppet-like Malaga.

Of course, in the wonderful world of the rojiblancos all this can change in nanoseconds. After all, just days before the second leg of the Champions League clash, an under pressure Atleti were labouring to beat some grape-squashers from Alcalá and were going nowhere in Gelsenkirchen.

But, for the moment, Javier Aguirre is sitting pretty in a big metaphorical soup bowl of self satisfaction.

Whilst on a chin-stroking retreat with the likes of Sir Fergie and Arsene Wenger last weekend, Marca took a moment to offer tea and biscuits to the Mexican manager and asked him to reflect on the joy of years gone by.

“I have suffered a lot, but no more than any other coach in Spanish football,” admitted Aguirre as he rubbed the scars where, club president, Enrique Cerezo had poked him with his cigar butt after last season’s Bolton Wanderers bungle.

These days, the only critics that Javier has to put up with come from his 12-year-old son, Iñaki.

“Why did you get rid of Maniche? Why did you take Simao off?” are the types of questions Aguirre says he must face as he digs into his morning Coco Pops.

If the Atlético coach wasn’t in such a perky Primera position, La Liga Loca would suggest that he made a move to take over from Keggy Keegle at Newcastle.

Firstly, Aguirre speaks English and secondly, he’s well used to working with disfunction and disaster on a daily basis.

The theme of the week so far has been Spanish managers turning their noses up at the idea of a move to England’s north-east. The walking doom-clowd of Deportivo, Miguel Angel Lotina, revealed that he received a phone call from a mystery man asking if he fancied a spell at St. James’ Park.

“They asked if Ih’d be interested and I said ‘no’. I’m under contract... I nipped it in the bud,” revealed Lotina at a press conference before a Bigg Market veteran whispered in his ear.

“What? The girls wear what? And drink how much?... stuff this, I’m off,” blurted Lotina heading to the airport.

Zaragoza manager, Marcelino - he of the ‘Sarah Palin, merciful Zeus what were you thinking?’ school of decision making has also poo-pooed a move to Jimmy Nail’s Newcastle, content to stay in the sulphurous depths of Spain’s second division.

“No club will take me away from here,” bragged the non-mercenary Marcelino.

“That’s as maybe, muchacho” says the blog, but Zaragoza’s current results might change things.

Marcelino’s men lost their opening league tie to Levante, went out of the Copa del Rey at the first hurdle and blew a two goal lead over Real Sociedad last weekend to draw 2-2.

But all this maybe just windmills in our minds as on Wednesday CERN’s supercollider will be switched on. And the pitchfork-waving, science-fearing La Liga Loca is convinced that it will result in either the destruction of the universe or the opening of a hell dimension.

Radio Four are set to broadcast live from the big switch-on and if all goes well, the blog will be a little disappointed if a jocular John Humphreys doesn’t take the opportunity to cry, “Wait! There’s something moving! It’s, it’s hideous! Run!!!! Run for you lives!!!”