Welcome to this week's Off the Ball, which is really a blatant plug for computer games and films.

Who says football's only a game?
Every football season has red letter days that stand out above all the rest. The opening day, FA Cup Third Round day, Cup Final day... and, of course, Championship Manager launch day, when the new edition of the world's favourite football management game is released.

Each year I faithfully trot down to my local Game store and buy the latest release, despite the certain knowledge for the last two years that my ancient computer is far too low-spec and decrepit for me even to load the game, let alone play it. "I'll soon be able to afford a new computer", I keep telling myself. Well, perhaps I could if I didn't keep blowing money on each new version of Championship Manager.

Of course, this is just one form of addiction to Championship Manager, or CM as we aficionados call it. Around the world, millions of gamers have the same, sad obsession with this software. Indeed, this has led to a number of myths developing around CM, namely:

· It's the world's most popular and addictive computer game (absolutely true in fact)
· The majority of applications for vacant managerial posts with league clubs nowadays have gained their entire managerial experience from CM (yep, that's actually true too)
· Real-life managers use the CM database to scout for overseas players (again, totally true)
· It's been cited in a divorce case (not true. It's actually three divorce cases)
· It's stunningly realistic (ah, now there you might have the weakness).

You see, one of CM's biggest selling points has always been its realism, how it replicates to the n'th degree the trials and tribulations, the decision-making and the problems of managing a football club. But if it's so realistic, how come I regularly steer Cambridge into the Premiership? And how come John Ruddy has managed to get the U's into the Champions League? If it really is that realistic, maybe Herve should step aside now and let Ruddy and me take over.

My mate Graeme went even further, leading Kilmarnock to the fabled Treble of SPL title, Scottish Cup and, glory of glories, the European Cup itself! Then, to prove it was no fluke, he went and did it again the following season - and STILL he didn't win the Scottish Manager of the year title! (Whatever the winner did, it must have been something totally unbelievable - like winning a match as manager of Scotland).

In my last job as a CM manager, I took on the task of managing Gillingham, taking them to the League Cup Final and then promotion to the Premiership. Ten games into the season and we were hovering a few places above the relegation zone when our turn came to visit Old Trafford. And, joy upon joy, we turned over ManUre 1-0! What delight - better than promotion, better than winning the cup, better than sex! Well, possibly, I can't remember to be honest.

And then a funny thing happened. My ancient, knackered computer threw a strop. It informed me there was no more memory left and refused ever again to let me load this game. Which means that either my PC has developed a primitive form of Artificial Intelligence and, in that misguided way robots have, has started supporting ManUre, or, that I need to get a new PC. Either way, my CM career has, temporarily, come to an end but what a way to go out - stuffing Fergie at his place with a bunch of lads from the lower reaches of the footballing world, and not a cup of pea soup or slice of pizza in sight.

But, and here's the real point of all this, things are set to change in the CM world - because, this Thursday sees not only Guy Fawkes' Night but also the launch of a genuine rival to CM in the form of Football Manager. But why should this game challenge CM's supremacy when so many have failed? Well, because it's been developed by the people who created Championship Manager prior to the split between CM's developers and publishers.

Yep, in a move akin to Fergie taking most of ManUre's best players and setting up an entirely new club as a rival to United, the brains behind CM have gone their own way, and word has it that their new game will prove better than the forthcoming Championship Manager 5. Time will tell, but with both games on the market by Christmas, I confidently expect the divorce rate to double in 2005. At least. In the meantime, if this doesn't persuade the developers to send me a free copy of Football Manager, I don't know what will.

One Hugh Dallas, there's only&er several Hugh Dallases
The latest old TV series to make a comeback in the cinema is that 1980s favourite, Dallas. Soon we'll all be revelling once again at the antics of the Ewing family, their lavish lifestyles at Southfork Ranch, and how the women can wear so much make-up without toppling over.

But in the meantime, Scotland has its own form of Dallas Mania, in the shape of referee Hugh Dallas. For no matter what Scottish game you listen to on Radio 5, Hugh Dallas is always, and I mean always, the referee.

How can this be? Has Mr Dallas discovered some form of Star Trek-like tele-transportation system that bends the space-time continuum and allows him to referee every SPL match simultaneously? Or is there a million-to-one coincidence whereby all SPL referees have the same name? Perhaps there are six Dallas brothers, all called Hugh (it's not totally impossible, boxer George Foreman has four sons, all called George).

Or maybe I'm just not listening properly, and hughdallas is actually an old Scottish word meaning 'blind bloke in a black uniform with a white stick and labrador'.

All I can say is that if Hugh Dallas is a real person, I hope he gets appearance fees from radio commentaries. He'll be able to buy out JR and retire to Southfork if he does.

Return of the Hobbit
Anyone catch that news story last week? About the discovery of a new form of tiny human being, a race of people who it's believed may still survive in small numbers in remote, isolated anonymity, rumoured to exist but never being seen or heard of?

If only those anthropologists had come to the Abbey, they'd have found out all about them. We call them our forwards.

Storm in a soup cup
What a waste of good soup and pizza. How much more childish can ManUre and the Arse get?

Fergie running off with the ball claiming it's his and no-one else can play with it?

Ashley Cole going up to Roy Keane and saying "See that gob on the pitch - that's you, that is"?

Phil Neville saying to Thierry Henry "I'm going to get my brother on to you"?

For heaven's sake, grow up children!

Any memorable Championship Manager triumphs (or disasters)? Any favourite childish taunts? We'd love to hear them. Send them to us at cufcofftheball@aol.com

Neil Cole

If you missed Neil's previous 'Off The Ball' columns, you can find them here

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