And so, the end is near…

Michael Foster

If the Premier League were a big budget American TV show, we’d have long moved away from the opening and filler episodes and have now arrived at the season finale. Last weekend’s round of games would have served as first of a climatic two parter, where the established threads and plot points are dramatically resolved. And enough intrigue was provided to keep viewers twiddling their thumbs in anticipation for next Sundays’ epic conclusion.

Of course season finales are often where supporting characters meet their untimely end, and on Monday it was Blackburn’s turn to bite the bullet. An assassin named Alcaraz proved their demise, with a powerful header flummoxing Paul Robinson and ringing the death knell for a decade of top flight football. The signs have been there for some time, but Blackburn fans hoping for a narrative blindside were left disappointed. At least the recently founded ‘Kean out’ Choral Society will have plenty to sing about.

There’s only room for one more dramatic death, and now Wigan have completed their annual resurrection from the dead it can only be either Bolton or QPR. Like those scenes where the hero has to make a choice between two characters over who dies and who is spared. At one point it looked like Bolton would be survive the drop, though a late goal from pop sensation James Morrison, now strangely a substitute for West Brom, dented their hopes of an early escape. QPR had better luck against Stoke, but with the toughest of tough tests on Sunday they’ll be hoping the team they beat won’t return the favour for Bolton.

Though providing favours for rival teams seems to be the recurring theme of this season, as indicated by the jostling for third and fourth position. The mood between the rival north London clubs has been unusually generous this season. At first Arsenal politely allowed Spurs to build a commanding lead, before Spurs kindly returned the favour by throwing it all away. But Arsenal were determined not to be outdone by their rivals hospitality, leaving the door wide open following a 3-3 draw against Norwich for Spurs to retake third place. But no, Spurs couldn’t possibly have accepted this wonderful gift, and had to politely decline it with a 1-1 draw against Aston Villa. How lovely to see such normally fierce rivals shower each other with such blatant generosity, only to throw it all in the others face.

And while this was going on Newcastle were sneaking up behind them with the subtlety of a black and white Rhino. Papiss Cisse was unable to replicate his wonder goal scored against Chelsea, Man City proving to be this remarkable new superhero’s kryptonite. It leaves three teams separated by one point, and only two Champions League places available. A tasty prospect, given they all know fourth may not be enough if Chelsea employ their newly discovered brand of confidence/black magic against Bayern Munich. I hear Abramovic has discarded his Messi voodoo doll and is busy puncturing the one bearing Arjen Robben’s likeness.

And, of course, there’s the main plot point: the epic showdown between the two main characters. If it were a Western they’d be the old sheriff versus the fresh-faced kid staring each other down with tumbleweed drifting past. At the moment Man City are likely to draw first, itching to pull their trigger finger and be crowned champions. But there’s still life in the old dog yet, and Man Utd will be ready to pounce should Man City falter.

So the scene is set, the players have taken centre stage and the nerds are ready to furiously vent their opinions over the unfolding events on internet forums. I suggest you grab some popcorn and some fizzy pop, and enjoy the spectacle. And remember, season finales are often where the unexpected happens when least expected.

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