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This Week — Will you survive Survival Sunday?

The Premiership has suddenly taken on renewed significance in the eyes of QPR fans everywhere, and our destinations for next year's awaydays are by no means settled yet.

Whole new world

In my first job as an uber-local journalist on a tiny weekly newspaper in Derbyshire, one of my most loathed roles was covering the fortnightly planning board meetings at Amber Valley Borough Council. These would basically consist of three, sometimes four, hours of wading through applications for new garages, sheds, extensions and the like with the occasional news story thrown in there for good measure - usually mentioned when I'd stopped listening and started trying to get the latest football scores on my mobile.

I couldn't possibly imagine what sort of a person would want to go to these things through choice. If you're not on the planning board, or paid a pittance to write about the decisions it makes, or trying to get permission for a new garage, shed or extension then why on earth would you want to sit in the Ripley council building until 11pm on a Tuesday night listening to that rubbish?

There were people though. One gentleman in particular I remember would come along very frequently whenever any sort of application (be it 100,000sq ft of new industrial units in the green belt, or a new sky light for a listed house) for a stretch of land between Ripley and Derby came up. He believed that the council should lobby for a new railway to be opened up along that stretch connecting Alfreton and Ripley to Derby. The tracks were already there for most of the way because of the area's mining heritage and he would come to every bloody meeting and run through the same two page speech about the importance of trains to Ripley every single time. Nobody would pay any attention, he'd have his two minutes and then sit down.

And I know how he feels. As I approach my sixth year writing for LoftforWords I cannot possibly begin to imagine how many paragraphs I've written about media bias towards the Premiership, the Evening Standards' double page spreads on that well known London outfit Manchester United while we make do with a nib here and there, the hyperbole and exaggeration of Sky Sports and so on. I could feel another rant along those lines bubbling inside me this morning as the QPR official website ran a story promoting this Sunday's top flight action which Sky are billing as "Survival Sunday."

I couldn't believe it. ‘What about the Championship?’ I mumbled. There's been no bloody mention of the play semi-finals or forthcoming final, no mention of the Championship for weeks in fact. And then I remembered; this stuff is relevant now. My involvement with it does now stretch beyond simply wanting something to watch on TV on Monday nights. We are Premiership now.

So what is this Survival Sunday malarkey all about then? Well, it follows hot on the heels of The Sunday of Doom which came last week and dragged West Ham down into the depths of Tuesday night trips to Barnsley. The Hammers capitulation from two goals up to a farcical defeat at fellow basement side Wigan seemed to be one of those games with everything – a terrific spectacle that kept me gripped throughout the highlights package on Match of the Day 2. I say "seemed" and "Match of the Day 2" because Sky, in their infinite wisdom, actually televised two meaningless games instead last Sunday.

It seems a little rich of them to be hammering their Super Sunday offering this week, where any two of five teams could be relegated, when they spurned the drama and emotion of one team fighting back from two down to keep their hopes alive and relegate their opponents in the process last weekend. They paid the price for their own hyping of the title "race" – the championship has clearly been over for several weeks, if not months, and Sky's insistence in the face of all form and logic that not only Chelsea, but Arsenal as well, still had a chance of overhauling Man Utd smacked of trying to keep viewers interested rather than actually believing the words as they came out of their well groomed presenters’ mouths. Had they admitted weeks ago that United had won it, they never would have thought to televise Chelsea v Newcastle and Arsenal v Villa (the deadest of dead rubbers) last weekend and could have shown Wigan v West Ham instead. Their, and our, loss.

Anyway, no doubt they will try and make up for that this Sunday. I imagine Richard Keys sitting at home, squirming and pacing the floors, desperate to get in front of a camera of some sort and hype this one up. Maybe he'll get one of his family members to fire up the cam-corder and film him growling about the "best league in the world" and "one of the most important days in the history of the game" like he always used to on such occasions.

I still remember prior to Newcastle's relegation at Villa Park two years ago they crossed live to Alan Smith on the pitch three hours before kick off with the Keys intro: "What a day we have in store. What a day. Alan Smith, what's the atmosphere like at Villa Park ? Tense?" to which Smith replied: "Well not really Richard, there's nobody here yet."

I miss Richard Keys, but only in the same way I miss having a verruca to pick at while I'm watching Goals on Sunday since that Bazooka stuff did it's work.

Anyway, this Sunday. Two relegation spots to be filled, five teams to fill them, Wigan and Blackpool are currently the sides in possession of the booby prize while Birmingham, Wolves and Blackburn sit just above wondering what that creaking noise is. Wigan go to Stoke, Blackpool to Man Utd and Birmingham to Spurs while Wolves and Blackburn meet at Molineux.

Now for Wigan, Blackpool and Birmingham, all on 39 points, you could hardly have picked three worse games to have when you need a win. Or so you would think. Usually those three fixtures would be write offs for all three sides but now they don't look too bad at all.

Stoke's whole season was clearly based on last week's cup final and you only have to compare the resistance they put up against Man City at Wembley to the weak surrender against the same opponents in the league during the week to know that the Bermuda shorts and oversized sunglasses are already on and they can already feel the sand between their toes. Man Utd's season is now entirely based on the Champions League final next week, so their key task at the moment is to rest and avoid injury. Spurs do have something to play for, but UEFA have bloated, devalued and ruined the UEFA Cup (I shall not call it the Europa League) to such an extent that the "race for fifth" is now the footballing equivalent of Al Murray's Compete for the Meat. Given the choice, Harry Redknapp would probably take a turkey crown rather than a succession of Thursday night fixtures against Europe 's also rans. So all three haunted sides have opponents who probably don’t care too much whether they win or lose – odds on all three winning anybody?

Personally the aim of Sunday is simple: secure as few trips to Birmingham as possible. I've hated Birmingham ever since I went there as a child with my dad before our games with Villa and later City when we got turned away from what seemed like every single pub in the city because they had a no child policy. I hate the place, I hate the accent, I hate the bloody clap along routine they do at St Andrews to ‘What’s she gonna look like with a chimney on her’ before the teams come out, I hate the roads, I hate the fact that to get an affordable train ticket there you have to get the stopping service from Marylebone, I hate Jasper Carrott and Lenny Henry and everything else about the place. I hated the way West Brom fans took Ray Harford’s defection out on the QPR support when we went to the Hawthorns, and I hated the way a Wolves fan in the upper tier of their side stand coughed up a big ball of snot and glop and spat it down the back of my head while we lost 2-1 on a pitch that wasn’t even close to being playable, and I especially hated the fucking steward who watched him do it and then told me to calm down because it was only “condensation from the roof” while laughing. And I hate the over zealous, aggressive, rude, obnoxious, incompetent, violent West Midlands police force. Needless to say, given the choice, Birmingham and Wolves would be joining the Hammers in the drop zone on Sunday in my ideal world.

I think I may be happy on one count. Wolves, a disgusting place full of horrible people, deserve credit for the way they have stuck at it this season and their financial policy since going into the Premiership as outlined in today’s Guardian report which shows them £9m in profit. Mick McCarthy, often a figure of ridicule, has kept plugging away this season and results are coming at the right time for him. They will beat Blackburn on Sunday.

Birmingham on the other hand seem to have been labouring under the misapprehension that they’ve already done enough for quite some time now, and I don’t fancy them for anything more than a draw at Spurs. That should keep them above Blackpool who have been brave and entertaining, but aren’t good enough to beat Man Utd’s reserves and will lose and go down this weekend. That leaves it all on Wigan whose manager I admire and team will have taken a lot of confidence from their turn around last week. I think they will win on Sunday and escape, relegating Blackpool and Birmingham in the process.

Elsewhere

For those thinking that prediction will turn out just like all the other nonsense on LFW may I draw your attention to the message board thread on play off predictions where I confidently stated that Reading and Swansea would contest the final after Forest and Cardiff bottled the semis as usual. It’s not often my predictions come true (one correct score out of 48 attempts this season) so I must treasure it when I am right.

After a slow start the play offs, particularly in League One, have blossomed into riveting spectacles. In our division Cardiff just don’t have the stomach for anything remotely challenging and have wilted at similar points in the season for the last few years – one of the disadvantages of having so many loan players is that when the going gets really tough their loyalties simply lie elsewhere and when compared to a committed and attractive Reading side over two legs there was no contest. After a season of Dave Jones moaning about his budget, referees and life in general and his constant bullying of any journalist who dares to ask him any question I can’t say I was sorry to see his team, that should have walked the league on paper, crash and burn in humiliating circumstances. I don’t like Reading, and their refereeing reception committee, much either but they’re the form team playing good football and their boss Brian McDermott is growing on me.

Forest manager Billy Davies, who I’ve said for some time is the Championship’s best gaffer until I realised the actual holder of that title was a lot closer to home, has also spent the season irritating me. Dexter Blackstock, Marcus Tudgay, David McGoldrick, Dele Adebola, Joe Garner and Robert Earnshaw all signed up (and those are just the strikers) and he still complains about his board not backing him and “the wonderful staff he has here” – then when they do back him, he goes out and gets Kris Boyd. Ultimately Forest were undone by Davies’ inability to pick the right combination of those forwards at Swansea in the second leg of their semi final – Robert Earnshaw sat on the bench while McGoldrick and Tudgay compared missed sitters, then came on for the final ten minutes scoring once and hitting the post with another. What if he’d started? Davies is probably wondering the same thing. Forest were also left to lament a first leg where they clearly thought the job was done when Swansea had a man sent off after one minute – judging by their reaction at Loftus Road where they won a point (one point) and celebrated like they’d won the European Cup this attitude is endemic within the squad.

I’ll stick with Reading to win the final. Swansea play the better football but are relying too heavily on Borini, Sinclair and Dyer while Reading seem to be a real team unit that’s playing especially well at the moment. Mikele Leigertwood may get a medal after all.

For opinions, news, comment, rants, ramble and other witty asides, follow @LoftforWords on Twitter.

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