That fat bloke, wassisname . . . Gizza? Where is he now?

This is the time of the year when we say this is the time of the year. OK, it's not quite the end of the season, but I'm getting in before all the real football brains give us the benefit of their wisdom.

Team of the Season Ipswich has done amazingly well with very little. Fulham also, but with quite a lot spent on them. But the team of the season has to be Leeds. Each time they progressed in Europe, I thought, that's it, they'll be found out now, it can't go on, they just haven't got the strength or class of Man Utd or Arsenal; then there was the court case, still with us, that might distract, if not derail, Lee Bowyer at least. But behold and lo, did not Leeds do well.

My Biggest Mistake Early in the season, I found myself moaning and groaning about D Beckham and G Neville, then groaning even more when sackfuls of letters from Man Utd fans poured in, mostly in green ink, mostly from south of Milton Keynes, many with prawn stains on them. I take nothing back about them. But I have to say I was wrong about Rio Ferdinand. I did think, at £18m, he was a waste of money. The lad done well. He's now Rio Grande, as we say in Spain.

Haircut of the Year Not awarded. Even I am so bored by the subject. They all look the same. As for Becks, I'd rather watch paint dry than watch his bum fluff grow again.

Forgotten Men That fat bloke, losing his hair, used to eat Mars bars, last heard of at Everton, now what was he called? Gizza? Gassy? Funny how household names can slide out of the back door, into the garden, over the wall and disappear. Then there was that very well-dressed manager, Scotch bloke, the one who didn't take a bung - am I making it up or was he really managing Spurs only a few weeks ago? I wonder where he is now.

Longest Leaver of the Season No competition here. Gareth Southgate has been leaving Aston Villa since I was a lad. Each week he was orf, couldn't stand it any more, club had no ambition, open to offers, wants to improve myself, coats on the ground, satchels for goalposts. And yet he's still there, last time I looked. And still leaving?

Oldie of the Year Gary McAllister of Liverpool. What a bargain, at a cost of only nothing, and what a trooper, still fit, still keen, still sensible, still dangerous. Richard Gough is another oldie doing well. They both remind me of Gordon Strachan, who kept going while drawing his pension. There must be something in the Scottish blood, or the deep-fried Mars bars.Oh no, spare the green ink. Silly joke.

Players a Pleasure to Watch Viera, whom I have admired all season, along with Giggs, the most exciting for a lot of the season. Both are pretty obvious if you watch the English league, as is Henrik Larsson in Scotland. What a season he has had, after that long injury. In the First Division, I do like watching Matt Jansen of Blackburn Rovers, not just because he comes from Carlisle and has asthma, both of which help, but he has such flair. However, my milk token goes to Don Hutchinson of Sunderland. I'd pay money to see him. What am I saying? Do you want to know how much I've spent this season, on tickets for Spurs, Arsenal and Carlisle United, on programmes, on stuffing my face, on ONdigital in London and Sky in Loweswater? It must come to £2,500, which is more than Mark Bosnich earns in two minutes . . .

Least-liked Commentator I'm not mentioning Jonathan Pearce. I'm pretending he doesn't exist. So that leaves a vacancy on my allergy list. Ken Livingstone's voice is still there, Charles Dance's hair, Brian Sewell's face, Jonathan Ross's smirk, anything to do with Bridget Jones, but in the annoying footballer-commentator list there's a gap at the top. Moving into it slowly is Barry Davies. He has become so superior and school-masterly with his "absolutely no need for that" or "oh dear oh dear oh dear". He clearly thinks he should be doing something much more intellectual. His most affected remark of the year was: "The referee declined to answer in the affirmative."

Commentator of the Year I do like Andy Gray, but he's getting a bit earnest and I wish he'd stop saying "Richard" every time he pauses for breath. So, once again, it's the golden foot award for Big Ron, my all-time fave. I'll tell you what, he's been in the wide-awake club this year, though I was confused by one new Ronnism. "He's old-manned him." He said this after someone had got a dodgy free kick. I think, though I'm not sure, that he was suggesting that he'd pretended to fall over like an old man. Nice image. His best phrase was about Challinor of Tranmere. "Tell you what, he can throw the ball further than I go on holiday."

League of the Year No argument here, either. It's the Primera Liga in Spain. Once again, their teams have done best in Europe. Well done, McManaman, becoming a regular for Real Madrid, when initially he appeared out of it. And Figo now appears to have been worth the £40m, after all. I always smile when I see his name on a team sheet. Mr Fig, which is what his name means in Portuguese, makes him a figure of fun.

I've enjoyed the Spanish games every Saturday and Sunday evening on Sky, but I've not seen any of them in the flesh. Tell you what, before the season finishes, I think I'll just see if I can get further than Challinor throws the ball . . .

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