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.
âÂÂI have suffered a lot, but no more than any other coach in Spanish football,â admitted Aguirre as he rubbed the scars where, club president, Enrique Cerezo had poked him with his cigar butt after last seasonâÂÂs Bolton Wanderers bungle.
These days, the only critics that Javier has to put up with come from his 12-year-old son, Iñaki.
âÂÂWhy did you get rid of Maniche? Why did you take Simao off?â are the types of questions Aguirre says he must face as he digs into his morning Coco Pops.
If the Atlético coach wasnâÂÂt 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, heâÂÂs 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 EnglandâÂÂs 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. Jamesâ Park.
âÂÂThey asked if IhâÂÂd be interested and I said âÂÂnoâÂÂ. IâÂÂm under contract... I nipped it in the bud,â revealed Lotina at a press conference before a Bigg Market veteran whispered in his ear.
âÂÂWhat? The girls wear what? And drink how much?... stuff this, IâÂÂm off,â blurted Lotina heading to the airport.
Zaragoza manager, Marcelino - he of the âÂÂSarah Palin, merciful Zeus what were you thinking?â school of decision making has also poo-pooed a move to Jimmy NailâÂÂs Newcastle, content to stay in the sulphurous depths of SpainâÂÂs second division.
âÂÂNo club will take me away from here,â bragged the non-mercenary Marcelino.
âÂÂThatâÂÂs as maybe, muchachoâ says the blog, but ZaragozaâÂÂs current results might change things.
MarcelinoâÂÂs 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 CERNâÂÂs 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 doesnâÂÂt take the opportunity to cry, âÂÂWait! ThereâÂÂs something moving! ItâÂÂs, itâÂÂs hideous! Run!!!! Run for you lives!!!âÂÂ
