Reader TTS

Manchester United scrapping their end-of-season awards is about as pathetic a move as Mason Mount's to Old Trafford. It's the second-most empty, meaningless gesture the club have

made this season – after repeatedly starting Rasmus Hojlund, of course. I get it, handing out a 'best player' award after circling the relegation zone all season feels cringe.

Nathan Jones-levels of cringe. But you can't just pretend a train-wreck never happened – *cough* Liz Truss tweeting about economic policy *cough* . If you're absolutely s***, you

have to own it. Maybe even lean into it – like Andre Onana does every weekend. United will spin this as some noble gesture to their fans, as if they've suddenly grown a conscience.

Spare me! If they actually gave a toss about the punters, they'd have frozen ticket prices, re-hired the staff they laid off, and – wild idea – maybe tried to win back-to-back Premier

League games. This is just Jim Ratcliffe pouncing on another cost-cutting opportunity the way United's recruitment team pounce on £80million duds. Pathetic doesn't even cover it –

they're a club as allergic to accountability as Bruno Fernandes is to playing without whinging at his team-mates. SOULED OUT STADIUM Sponsored football stadium names can absolutely get

in the bin. We've got to fight this endless Americanisation of football like Premier League refs fight the concept of consistency. Because just when you think it couldn't get more

ridiculous, Everton have gone and named their shiny new tin shed _The Hill Dickinson Stadium_. That's not a football ground – that's where you go to contest a will! I mean, that

monstrosity of mediocrity they've built looks _so_ bland it makes David Moyes' toenail clippers seem interesting. So why they've slapped a name with Michael Owen–levels of

dorkiness on it is genuinely beyond me. Who on earth sat in a meeting and thought: "You know what'll get the fans going? A mid-tier law firm!" It's like calling your dog

_Spreadsheet_ . Utter nonsense. This is what happens when football gets sold off bit by plastic bit. What used to be stadiums with soul are now just branded boxes with less character than

Arsenal in a title race. _TRAGIC _OF THE CUP You know what I despise more than Liverpool fans despise homegrown legends having _the audacity_ to leave Anfield before their legs turn to dust?

The FA Cup final _not_ being the season finale. We always bang on about teams taking the competition about as seriously as Marcus Rashford takes tracking back – then shrug when the final

gets awkwardly crammed into the calendar like Chelsea cramming another £20m teenager no one's ever heard of into their squad. Crystal Palace just beat Manchester City at Wembley.

_Crystal bloody Palace_! Their first ever major trophy. They should've spent the weekend in fantasy land, spanking shots left, right and centre, and falling over – you know, like Darwin

Nunez does every matchday. But oh no, there's a dead rubber against Wolves to prep for. *Party blower sound effect*. Once upon a time, the FA Cup final was unmissable – or, as Timo

Werner would call it, a half chance. Now it's just another game in May. The suits have turned what should be a sacred tradition into a logistical afterthought, and – just like when Rio

Ferdinand's on commentary – we're all the worse for it.