With all the goodbyes on Sunday, one slipped under the radar. John Nicholson says we won't miss Michael Owen because, for the last few years anyway, he hasn't really been here...
Being sniffy about the Europa League is ridiculous. All football is inherently pointless and this competition is no more pointless than any other. Well done Rafa and Chelsea...
...I'll leave you to decide which are the heroes and which are the villains
For being the mythic star in the blockbuster movie that is always running in his own mind called, I am Zlatan.
For being called a fat Spanish waiter as though there is anything wrong with that. Personally, I'd like to see him serving trays of obscure Spanish wines and the occasional plate of Cocido Madrileño to the crowd. Who could resist that?
For starting the year 'back' then becoming very un-back, then coming back from being un-back before being dropped again and now being officially back once again. And for having the entire media campaigning for him to get a new contract as though they were campaigning for the release of a political prisoner.
For having a name that sounds like an old mill town in Lancashire and for opting for a haircut which was fashionable with men who called themselves Brett and ran a hairdressers in 1971.
For services to the 'If it's not the Premier League it's not all that,' mentality by considering the year Joe Cole spent playing 31 games for Lille meant he 'didn't play much football last year', that German champions, Borussia Dortmund 'can play a bit' and that Juventus (who at the time had gone over 40 games without losing) 'aren't a bad side.' He's certainly got that in his locker.
For having the old fashioned, out-dated notion that managing Aston Villa was a bigger or better job than managing Norwich City.
For being called Wilf. And for being so hyped that its as if he's already finished a long and brilliant career as an England international. What's that? He's only scored five in the Championship and has done nowt yet? Never.
For becoming, whilst injured, officially the only Englishman who has ever been or ever will be any good at football.
For having hair that makes the world a happier place.
For shamelessly being scared of the ball hitting him in the face when standing in the wall. Clearly, he feared it could kill him. Also for passing himself off as an adult male whilst actually being a 14-year-old girl called Nicole.
For services to hair dressing. The Mirror scribbler has, in mid-life, taken to wearing an alice band which makes it look as though he's a menopausal woman called Brenda from Skelmersdale. But in a good way.
For not being Harry Redknapp and for looking like a slightly surprised owl.
For being so enslaved to Roman Abramovich's money that they had to blame Rafa Benitez for him being appointed as their manager and not the man actually responsible. And for using such small pieces of paper as protest posters.
For saying being manager of Blackburn was an impossible job just before taking the Blackburn job and then getting sacked 10 games later as though to prove himself correct in the first place.
For, like radiation, being the gift that keeps on giving. What next? The Philip Schofield/Gordon The Gopher management dream team?
For being the worlds' first human/gerbil chimera.
For not being in any way rubbish despite being 'borderline Aspergers' (c/o Ian McGarry) and despite some in the press mocking him simply for the crime of writing notes. You wouldn't catch 'Arry doing that; indeed, you couldn't.
For the fastest ever deployment of the, 'I never touched it, it was already broken when I got here,' defence of blaming the players at QPR for being rubbish and thus already trying to remove any blame from himself if it should all end in disaster. Did you get the media's memo? QPR is not his fault; unless they survive, in which case, it's all down to him being brilliant and never, ever wrong about anything. Ever. Geoff.
For making a litany of wholly inaccurate predictions, despite declaring them to be facts, usually just prior to them being proved not to be and then getting very uppity and cross when anyone points this out, as though it was in any way important in the first place.
For having the head most like a potato in the Premier League and being the most likely to refer to a potato head as 'an organic, tuber-based thinking-module, going forward.' Also for unselfconsciously having a massive photo of himself on his wall at home and allowing a TV crew to film it. Not seen reality TV before, Bren? Editor's note; yes, we know it was given to him by a charity. It still looks stupid. Cheers.
For proving that if you do your work, know your stuff and can think up a decent simile, you too can receive universal acclaim. But if you thinking just nodding and grinning is a better way to go, be aware, we're disappointed with that.
For having tiny, super-fast feet and for doing nothing at all other than shooting on sight of the goals from any distance. The last practitioner of the 'just give it a big thriker' philosophy so popular in football comics but now unfashionable in favour of the 'fanny around with it and try and look clever' approach.
For officially not being injury prone yet always being out injured, including being hurt by some slightly cold air in a gym.
For metaphorically smoking fags, wearing slippers, pyjamas and a silk dressing gown while playing football.
For being managed by a competitive dad and annoying people who watch football in pubs while wearing a Barcelona shirt with Messi on the back.
For having the good grace to actually look flushed with embarrassment during many of the truly awful games of football he's played this year.
For failing to live up to his own ambition and then resigning from himself in disgrace.
Bradford City fans
For their blunt Yorkshire wisdom when chanting at Arsenal fans, 'Robin Van Persie, he left 'cos you're sh*te.' It's enough to sour one's Aqua Libra, Justin.
For, in a unique collision of cultures, inventing a hair style that is equal parts Milli Vanilli braiding and Peter Gabriel, Lamb Lies Down On Broadway era hairline shaving, which was obviously his aim.
For looking like an extra from The A Team and playing like one.
For, in a tweet, admitting to agalmatophilia.