INTER MILAN HOME, NOVEMBER 27th.

INTER MILAN HOME, NOVEMBER 27th.

I had to wait to write this column. If I'd written it straight after the game, then all you would've got would've been an awful lot of raw emotions, (not to mention a raw throat), and not much in the way of clear thoughts. As it is, we've played Everton since and I've calmed down a bit.

I don't really know what to say about Craig Bellamy. As any who have read the introduction to my columns page will know, he is without question my favourite current toon player. I think he's the stuff of legend. He has, in my opinion, he potential talent to be one of the games' greats. I am serious. The guy has unbelieveable pace, an undeniable workrate and passion for what he does. He obviously enjoys his job and for that alone is the envy of others, myself included! His finishing can go from the sublime to the ridiculous, often in the same game, but then he is still young, and so is still learning.

We all know that our Little Craig has a bit of a temper on him. But let's get this straight: he was an idiot on Wednesday night. I love to see him getting mad at decisions and swearing at opponents. It makes him who he his, and he's great for it. But you do not, under any circumstances, kick your marker when the ball is thirty yards away. With lots of cameras on you. After 5 minutes.

When Craig started to walk after being shown the deserved red card, I thought we got a real insight into how he ticks. I honestly believe that he's a really nice guy, that he mostly doesn't mean to do the daft things he does, that he really is a victim of the famous old "red mist". When he started to walk, for a split second, there was an exasperated scream. Not at his opponent, not at the ref, but at himself. It was like he knew, immediately, his mistake. Then came the tears. Then he tried to regain control. Then he couldn't again. I actually found myself watching the highlights feeling sorry for him.

But then I remembered what he just might have cost us. The rest of the game is much of a blur and shock. Two pieces of shocking defending, two cast iron wonder goals. Yet all the time, there was this nagging feeling that with eleven men, it would have been an awful lot closer. I really believe there was a point for the taking with a full compliment of players.

Fair play to Laurent Robert (who regular readers will know I have been constantly lambasting this season) for his second half performance. Much improved workrate and a marvellous run and pass for Nobby's controlled finish. But Gary Speed? What is going on? A real season to forget so far. He really needs to be looking over his shoulder at JJ and Viana.

One final thing. If anyone happens to know who the two thirty-something guys were, sat in NW corner, middle tier, Row D, seats 124 and 125, I'd appreciate an email. Fifteen minutes from the end, I noticed a smell of burning. I shouted to everyone around us, including many regulars, and we all agreed we could smell something, and started to look for where it was coming from. Dougie next to me then noticed it was a fag end, on my jacket under my seat. There was a 3 inch hole burned straight through my double thickness collar of my favourite denim jacket!

I had seen both the blokes behind me smoking at half time. There is no way on god's planet that a fag could have got under my seat had it not come from one of those two. I challenged them but they stayed guiltily silent. They tried to sneak off 5 minutes from the end, when I challenged them again. One ignored me and kept walking, the other declared "Oh we don't know hose done that, mate".

Yeh right. You're guilty mate. And you know it. All you had to do was stick your hand in your pocket, give me a tenner and all would have been forgiven. But no.

Ok then. All help greatfully received. These guys made a bad night (and a long 120 mile journey home) even worse. I hereby launch Mark's Columns Crimestoppers.

Get after them boys!

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