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Schwarzer reminds me of Mickey Rourke in Sin City. A beaten up old brute who's given a shot at glory just when he thought he was about to fade away forever. Schwarzer's long been regarded as a great keeper, but he'd never had a chance to play for the elite clubs, his career sending him instead on a 25-year-long traipse around places like Kaiserslautern, Dresden, Bradford and Middlesbrough.
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Liverpool have had a lot of false starts with their local lads in recent years. Gerrard might still be captain, but Carragher is now a spirit in the Sky studio, Jay Spearing has waddled off to Bolton and Martin Kelly's been limping on and off the bench for most of this season. But Jonathon "Jon" Flanagan has become an unlikely Pro Evo stalwart in a FIFA Street team.While Sturridge steams around the internet in his streetwear goth gear, and Sterling canters along the wings like Bambi with a New Jack Swing haircut, Flanagan looks like the gormless fall guy in a joyriding court case, stupidly taking the rap for his bastard mates. Perhaps he'll end up at Sunderland in five years, but much like Steve Bruce, another solid British defender with an unlovable head, for now he's a constant in a top team.
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There's a tendency to confuse donkeys with heroes. Is Richard Dunne really an Irish legend, or is he just a big old lump who's thrown himself in front of strikers for what now seems like close to five decades?For me, Sylvan Distin is both donkey and hero. He's a big old clanker who's been around for years (he's 36) but under Roberto Martinez he's enjoying a renaissance as a kind of modern libero; Eeyore with a Tony and Guy haircut. The highest praise you can give him is that at times it's easy to forget he played a good chunk of his career under Kevin Keegan.CB: KOLO TOURE
I don't know if it's just that picture of Kolo "Francois" Toure peeping out from behind the shower curtain that's sitting in my subconscious. But something about Kolo Toure just cracks me up. He does nothing to perpetuate it, really, but every time he comes off the bench for Liverpool, I feel like a fat medieval king who's just had a terrified jester brought before me. I kind of expect him to do something hilarious, like smash a cross maniacally into his own net or provide a perfectly weighted assist to an onrushing Victor Anichebe, and quite often that's exactly what he does.I'm not sure why you do the things you do, Francois, but I love it, so keep it up.LB: ALEX BUTTNER
Alex Buttner is a player who exists simultaneously in two different worlds; Shrodinger's cat in a Fred Durst hat. He played in the Moyes era, and now the Giggs-Butt-Scholes power trio era, but something about him will always scream: "Fergie dementia purchase". He's a man who's both not wanted and not going anywhere, like an impulse buy from an old flatmate that still sits around your living room. You're sentimental about it, yet it doesn't remind you of a good time. He's become a cross that Manchester United must bear, as if he were left on the steps of Old Trafford as a baby and is somehow still being breastfed by someone at the club.
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Aside from the fact that Bolasie played his first international game in the hoodest fixture on earth (DR Congo vs. Libya, away in a post-revolution Tripoli), he's played his part in Pulis' South London renaissance. A spindly, full-blooded winger whose touch can veer between Maradona-esque to Crouchian in the space of the same run, for the neutral, he's a joy to watch.You get the impression that he's playing for his life every time he gets on the pitch. He's unrefined, insecure and trigger-happy. He's the Rust in a team of Marty Harts, the Sid Vicious to Mile Jedinak's Paul Cook, and it's good to have him in the league.CM: JONJO SHELVEY
Shelvey's weirdness is perfectly typified by his performance against old club Liverpool this season. Before the match, he said he was going to treat it like any other game; keep his head down, not let the past get to him. By the end of it, he'd scored once (for Swansea), set up another two (for Liverpool) and then set up another (for Swansea). He spent most of the game panicking from box to box, like a spooked ostrich in a house of mirrors. His distribution veered between Zidane and Zombie Jesus. He has played terribly at points this season, yet has still managed to score one of its best goals.
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It'd take an honest Sunday League player to tell his teammates that he'll be "doing the Matic role today". You'll never find kids in playgrounds shouting, "Ah, sick! Just like Matic!" after a teammate runs into an opponent and wins the ball back by breaking his ankle in half. For Matic is not one of the Premier League's birds of paradise. He is one of its demolition men. A man who ruins beauty with challenges of bureaucratic officiousness and autocratic efficiency. If Claude Makelele was a bandit, Matic is a bailiff.Had he played for Leeds in 1972, he'd be a hero. But in the modern Premier League, he's a sad Slavic cyborg with a cheap haircut. He's the book burner in Mourinho's free republic, and he's sort of amazing.LM: EMANUELE GIACCHERINI
In 2012, Emanuele Giaccherini played in the Euro 2012 final for Italy, against Spain. He lined up alongside Balotelli, Buffon, Del Piero and Pirlo just after winning Serie A with Juventus.
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What's that I hear you saying? "Nah mate, N'Gog's not in the Prem any more. He's playing in Hungary or some shit." Simmer down lads, because David N'Gog is still a going concern in English football, currently on the books at Swansea. I mean, he's only made three appearances, in which he's only made three fouls, and at the time of writing, only five people have watched this video of him being introduced by ex-manager Michael Laudrup. (Unless it was the same person, five times. Perhaps David N'Gog.)But he's there. Trust me.CF: FERNANDO TORRES
Ah, Nando. The boy with the thorn in the side of his foot. The Kurt Cobain of the Premier League. The man who was touched by Midas in Liverpool and turned to stone at Chelsea. The living reminder that not every story has a happy ending. The league's most enduring and most endearing nightmare. The man who even Chelsea fans seem to still be rooting for.Torres scores a goal, and things get worse for him. His career ladder is doused in treacle. He tried being a winger, but it didn't work out for him. He tries to be a striker but it's not happening for him. Every time he starts for Chelsea, you think, "He really looks up for it today, he's gonna smash it." But he almost never does. Typically, his most recent goal ended up in the net of a team he didn't even want to score against.
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Who else? The man, the myth, the rectangular framed glasses. The Mercedes coloured hair, the rape gag, the headbutt, the pineapple juice. The man who takes selfies with Babestation girls, the man who stole his fitness coach's dinner, explaining that, "When you're the king, you can do anything." The man who saved Newcastle and systematically dismantled them at the same time. The savvy buyer, the fire-seller. The genius, the idiot, the psychopath, the saviour. The Pards.His team have been absolutely useless for months, he's played some bizarre teams, but they're currently ninth in the table with a few games to go. Only one place behind the massively acclaimed Southampton team. The fans hate him, but probably know deep down that things aren't going to get better with anyone else. Pardew is there, wreaking havoc, ripping the soul out of the team and quietly whispering, "Go on then, see if Steve Bruce will do you any better." His existence is a permanent nightmare for Geordies and one that will only get worse if he goes.One can only dream of what he'd do with a team like this.EDIT: We decided we need a bench – so congratulations are in order for Costel Pantilimon, Pablo Armero, Ravel Morrison, Saido Berahino, Papiss Cisse, Ashkan Dejagah and Ricky van Wolfswinkel @thugcliveMore from VICE:Why I'm So Proud to Be a 'Promiscuous' SlagRevealed – FHM's 100 Sexiest Readers of 2014!Screw London, Move to Britain
