November 24 2004

Nigel Martyn - www.sportcartoons.co.uk

The Premiership Parade regulars among you know that normally I’d lead off with something dry and cutting about some poor, unfortunate club who had done badly at the weekend, writes Matt Amer.

I'd usually taunt them in much the same way that you might taunt a drunken friend on a Saturday night, when they pull something resembling Bernard Manning.

But for one week only I put that childish nature behind me, stand up and applaud with a complete shunning of sarcasm and irony.

The Cornish legend that is Nigel Martyn this weekend reached 800 league appearances in Everton’s 1-0 win over Fulham. Nige, as we all know, was a legend while at the Palace and will always be welcomed back with open arms.

For years he has been one of England’s most exceptional keepers and, were it not for the equally exceptional David Seaman, he would have been an England regular. The 6’2’’ hero notched up 349 appearances for Palace, 100 of those in consecutive matches, making him fifth in the all-time Palace caps list.

But it is for his late 80s/early 90s 'tache that I most fondly remember Big Nige. That upper lip, bristling with intent as if to say ‘go on, take your best shot, I’ll still save it’ was certainly one to be proud of.

I’ve tried growing one myself, as a tribute, but on my face it seems to say ‘go on, mug me, I’m a loser.’ Mr Nigel Martyn, on the occasion of your 800th league cap, I salute you.

But not everyone can be as talented as Nigel. This weekend saw a fantastic goalkeeping error of the type that should be met by a group of 20 or so school children jostling, bouncing, pointing and shouting ‘Butterfingers’.

Unfortunately this was not the punishment for Russell Hoult, who let relegation candidates – ‘they’re not a good as last year you know’ – Arsenal score in the softest of manners.

A tame shot from Robert Pires, which Hoult got two hands on and could have parried around the post with little trouble, slipped through his questionable grasp like eel slime through the hands of another ‘I’m a celebrity’ contender.

Sadly, for half of North London, even Hoult’s error – he couldn’t Hoult on to the ball – was not enough to gift Wenger’s world beaters a win and did not even win a bush-tucker meal or two for his West Brom colleagues.

Later in the match, little Robert Earnshaw, the 3ft Ronaldo as he is known in the Midlands, popped up like a buck-toothed jack in the box to sneak a clinical equaliser.

A begrudging round of applause should be sent in an East Anglian direction as the mighty Canaries, after three months of trying, finally managed a Premiership win.

As much as it might hurt the Palace cause, it is good to see the boys in yellow notch up a victory and, as a bit of a Brucie, it was against fellow ‘relegation contenders’ Southampton.

Unsurprisingly Norwich’s two –yes, that’s right, two – goals did not come from the feet of the Premiership’s least prolific front three, Darren Huckerby, Leon McKenzie or Matt Svensson, but from midfielder Damian Francis.

Apparently the Southampton defence was so confused by a couple of guys in Norwich kits hanging around near their box but doing absolutely nothing that they completely missed the attacking midfielder.

After a start to the season duller than a two piece jigsaw of some rain clouds, attacking football has snowballed out of control at Stamford Bridge. Bizarrely, there is now both flair and excitement in Chelsea’s matches.

Next thing you know, Jose Mourinho will turn up sporting badly coiffured hair and some Burberry jog bottoms. Having not conceded a single goal at the Bridge since August 28, the Blue Machine broke down and let in two against Sam Allardyce’s frankly astounding Bolton side.

Fear not Jose, it could have been worse; it could have been El Hadji Diouf that scored. That really would have been humiliating.