By Chalk Yiufahli
Fantasy football, anyone? OK, me first, here’s an imaginary end to the 2011/12 season. It’s the Champions League final. Real Madrid versus Barcelona. Jose Mourinho is walking across the lush turf of the Allianz Arena, Munich, one hand in his pocket, the other jangling his car keys with a studied insouciance. He is calmly whistling. All around him is bedlam. Real have just won their tenth European Cup. The final score: 0-0 after extra time, 1-0 on penalties, Madrid down to eight men, Cristiano Ronaldo ending the game in goal. (The decisive spot kick? Lionel Messi tried a Panenka, since you ask, but Ronaldo scorpion-kicked it away.) Anyway, there’s Jose, hovering beatifically over the grass. A smile plays across his lips. Contentment at bringing happiness to madridistaseverywhere? Pride at becoming only the second man, after Bob Paisley, to win three European Cups? Joy at becoming the first chap to win the thing with three different clubs? No, nope, and of course not: he’s simply imagining lovers of the Beautiful Game worldwide, exploding into impotent atomic apoplexy at the sick beauty of his achievement: 0-0 after extra time, 1-0 on penalties, Madrid down to eight men, Cristiano Ronaldo ending the game in goal. Jose continues to amble about the pitch. He wanders up to the Barca bench. His hand lightly, sensually tugs at his zip and… actually, I’d better stop this fantasy now.
Well done, UEFA!
City returned to the field about a minute late in Lisbon for the first leg of the last 16 in March in Portugal.
The fine is greater than the €20,000 Porto were fined after their fans aimed racist abuse at Manchester City players during a Europa League match in February.
City cannot appeal against the fine.