Sir Alex Ferguson has won more trophies than any other manager in English football, and if anybody doubted whether he still has the spark, they need only refer to last season’s major trophies. However, in the next round of the Champions’ League his team has been drawn against Inter Milan, managed by none other than “The Special One”.
José Mourinho needs no introduction to football fans, although few of those fans appear to be interested in who the man really is. He has reached the peak of the game at a speed that none have matched and yet he still seems to have to justify his every word and deed.
His detractors would argue that he only has himself to blame for the criticism, and they use his nickname as an example. On arriving at Chelsea he announced to the delighted press
"Please don't call me arrogant, but I'm European champion and I think I'm a special one".
Of course the gentlemen of the press were over the moon that somebody as newsworthy as Mourinho had finally arrived in England, but they have done just as much as anybody to destroy his reputation.
So if we cut through all the negative press this coach has received, is it possible to judge how special he is?
AN IMPRESSIVE CV
On a personal level, Mourinho has a diploma in sports science and has obviously achieved all the necessary coaching badges to take him to the highest level of the game. He also speaks a number of languages, including Portuguese, English, Spanish, Italian and French.
In terms of football, his palmarés is even more impressive. He has only been a professional manager since 2000, and although he has not even been managing all that time (around seven years in total) he has found time to win four domestic leagues, three major domestic cups, the UEFA Cup and the Champions’ League.
Statistically (according to the IFFHS) he was considered the best manager in the world for two consecutive years. He has only ever lost one league game at home with any team and his teams are on a run of over one hundred home games without defeat. And he is only the second manager ever to win the UEFA Cup and Champions’ League/European Cup in consecutive years.
IT’S ALL RELATIVE
As with everything in life, a person’s achievements are relative. Nobody’s should be belittled simply because there is someone “better”, of course, so if one person speaks five languages why should they care if someone else speaks six? However, if we compare Mourinho’s achievements to those of people around him, do they still withstand scrutiny?
I am not suggesting for one moment that this was Mourinho’s intention, but seeing as he made the comment about being “special” on arriving in England, I would like to use the achievements of the people who inhabit the world of English football as a yardstick.
· COACHES
First, the coaches. Only Bob Paisley has won the UEFA and European Cups in consecutive seasons, nobody else. No other English manager comes near Mourinho. (Sit down, Johnny English, Sir Alex is Scottish – Scotland is a different country. So is every other place your government and army have annexed.) Indeed, English managers are unfortunately often people like Mike Newell or Sam Allardyce, misogynist or (allegedly) dishonest.
· FANS
What about the fans? Marseille 1998, Charleroi 2000, Bratislava 2002, Albufeira 2004, Stuttgart 2006 – the evidence is plain. Admittedly there are no available figures on how many English football fans speak five languages, have finished higher education or have reached the absolute peak of their field in less than a decade. There is, of course, unlimited evidence of monosyllabic thuggery.
· PUNDITS
Should we compare Mourinho to football pundits? They are a special breed of television presenters who are experts at spouting insipid, clichéd rubbish in droning voices while offering absolutely no analysis. Irish residents will have had the chance to compare RTÉ’s pundits to the English riff-raff, and will have seen what real analysis is all about. A special mention here should go to that most English of (alleged) Scotsmen, Alan Hansen.
· PLAYERS
Apart from the fans, of course, the main group of people involved in football are the players themselves. England boasts such iconic individuals as Luke McCormick, Joey Barton, Lee Hughes, Steven Gerrard (allegedly), Glen Johnson, Ben May, Jordan Robertson (again, allegedly), Jermaine Pennant and Marlon King. Again, there are no figures available as to how many languages the average English footballer speaks or whether he has finished higher education, but there is ample evidence of violence and extremely arrogant anti-social behaviour sometimes ending in death.
· HACKS
And last but not least we have the hacks themselves, the journalists who believe they report on football in order to satisfy the fans’ desire for more news, but in reality insist the fans be interested in a footballer’s every move in order to keep the hack in a job. Far from speaking five languages, journalists at The Times – a top-end newspaper, allegedly - cannot spell and have no idea of grammar, producing unreadable articles every Sunday. (At least the tabloids come up with memorable headlines, not least the ones announcing Inverness Caledonian Thistle’s victory over Celtic or Manchester United’s last-minute signing of Berbatov.)
And then we have perhaps the worst offender, the international laughing-stock that is the BBC, whose sporting forum encourages swearing, personal insults, racism and potentially dangerous taunting on a daily basis (in spite of their apparently irrelevant “House Rules”) while refusing to allow well-written and balanced articles on serious issues within the sport.
· THE AGENTS
Shall we just leave the agents out of this?
PAINT IT BLACK
Perhaps this is painting English football with too much black. Admittedly there are many footballers and managers who do a mountain of unpublicised work for the less fortunate members of society, although as Mourinho is also on that list, in this attempt at balancing things the gesture is cancelled out.
It is also understandable that the industry insists on complete dedication to the cause, but that same industry should encourage the players to study and learn more about the world around them rather than encouraging them to reach the highest level of some computer game. Football can also be considered akin to boxing in that it is an opportunity for kids who have not had exactly that, an opportunity. However, again the football world should nurture the players as opposed to seeing them simply as a way of making money.
In terms of the fans, their passion is a necessary part of the football experience; however, knives and racist chants are not.
BACK TO THE START
Whether this article has been too harsh on English football or not, based on all this evidence it is painfully obvious that in this sort of company, Mourinho is without any doubt a special one.
One question remains: was he arrogant to say as much? Well, how arrogant was this statement compared to enlisting the help of five friends to beat up a DJ who wouldn’t change a song (allegedly)? And how arrogant was it compared to driving with such disregard for anyone else that two children were smashed to death?
They were only two cases out of many people, but Mourinho really is one of a kind.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
The full penalty of the law
(Note – all the teams named are the current teams of these players at the time of writing)
Only those who have spent the last few days on a different planet will not have heard of Steven Gerrard’s arrest and charge of assault and affray. It will be interesting to see how the authorities deal with such a famous and popular – at least as an international – player. It will be even more interesting to see how a club as prestigious as Liverpool decides to proceed with such a delicate matter.
What is increasingly more mundane, however, is the fact that a professional footballer has fallen foul of the law while showing his true colours. It is something we have come to expect in the last few years, as recent news items show. While Gerrard was “helping police with their enquiries” twenty-year-old Sheffield United player Jordan Robertson was arrested on suspicion of dangerous driving after a father of five was killed in a road accident over Christmas.
Earlier this year we have already seen 25-year-old Newcastle United player Joey Barton sentenced to six months in jail, also for assault and affray (note to Gerrard and the judge who will try his case, if it comes to trial), and 25-year-old Plymouth Argyle player Luke McCormick sentenced to seven years and four months for killing two little children in a car crash. Barton also has previous for night-time road accidents, having injured a pedestrian in 2005.
The football hall of shame has, in recent years, also seen the inclusion of Jermaine Pennant (driving offences), Marlon King (driving offences and two cases of assault, one involving punching a woman), and Glen Johnson and Ben May (shoplifting, of all things).
TO LET THE PUNISHMENT FIT THE CRIME
Luke McCormick was at first suspended by his employers, Plymouth Argyle, then sacked, although the euphemism “contract cancelled by mutual consent” was used in the press. When his friend David Norris – the man whose wedding had provided McCormick with the excuse to go overboard – made the immature and offensive “handcuffs gesture” during a goal celebration and compounded his stupidity by lying about the gesture, his employers Ipswich Town fined him £25,000.
(Some people may also recall Tim Cahill’s “handcuffs gesture” during a goal celebration earlier this year. This was directed at his own brother, who is serving a prison sentence and was meant as a gesture of brotherly support as opposed to one of insolent defiance, although it could also be argued that it may be seen to endorse violence.)
It remains to be seen whether McCormick will be welcomed back into the footballing fold, but the omens, for him at least, are good. Lee Hughes, the 32-year-old Oldham Athletic player, was jailed for six years in August 2004 for killing one person and injuring another in a road accident during the 2003-4 season. Hughes even fled the scene rather than face up to his crime.
Hughes’ employers at the time, West Bromwich Albion, terminated his contract after the player had been sentenced. However, not only was Hughes bailed awaiting trial – allowing him to shrug off any alleged distress and become his club’s top scorer – he was offered a new contract at Oldham Athletic while still in prison. Barton, Pennant, King, Johnson and May still earn the obscene amounts paid to professional footballers of any division, and there is no doubt that Liverpool FC will abandon all pretence of dignity or integrity by continuing to employ Gerrard should he be convicted.
THE DEBT TO SOCIETY
Lee Hughes would argue that he paid the price for his crime – he was convicted of an offence and given a sentence which he served in accordance with the laws of his country – and that those laws state that not only should he not be punished beyond that, but he should be allowed every opportunity to re-enter society on an equal footing with any other citizen. He should certainly not be punished by being refused work simply because of his record.
It is indeed shocking when the holier-than-thou element of our society decides to continue punishing people for mistakes they have made in the past. How can a person be expected to live a decent life if the meagre opportunities they have clung to in the past are now converted into a brick wall of total rejection?
However, there is a clear case in favour of not allowing people to resume certain occupations even after completing sentences, depending on the crime and the occupation. A person convicted of any sort of crime involving children should not be a school teacher, for example. Somebody convicted of fraud should not be allowed to work in government or in any job involving the handling of large amounts of money.
ROLE MODELS
Anybody who has worked with children knows how influential football is on their lives. When a kid has a ball at their feet, they run like their favourite player and celebrate a goal in the same way, even though the goal is scored between two jerseys. In 1986 some of my classmates even came in wearing plaster casts on perfectly healthy arms. Nowadays, of course, children even protest in the same way as their idols, first diving then twisting their faces in perfect imitation.
The point is that they see the actions of their heroes, and the consequences of such actions. Children are not stupid – they are far more intelligent than a lot of people give them credit for. They may or may not think that the actions are acceptable, but they will always take note of a lack of punishment, and incorporate that knowledge into their take on the world.
And subsequently, their take on the world around them and the society they live in will manifest itself in the way they behave towards members of that society. So do we really want to allow the likes of McCormick and Gerrard to be their role models?
Only those who have spent the last few days on a different planet will not have heard of Steven Gerrard’s arrest and charge of assault and affray. It will be interesting to see how the authorities deal with such a famous and popular – at least as an international – player. It will be even more interesting to see how a club as prestigious as Liverpool decides to proceed with such a delicate matter.
What is increasingly more mundane, however, is the fact that a professional footballer has fallen foul of the law while showing his true colours. It is something we have come to expect in the last few years, as recent news items show. While Gerrard was “helping police with their enquiries” twenty-year-old Sheffield United player Jordan Robertson was arrested on suspicion of dangerous driving after a father of five was killed in a road accident over Christmas.
Earlier this year we have already seen 25-year-old Newcastle United player Joey Barton sentenced to six months in jail, also for assault and affray (note to Gerrard and the judge who will try his case, if it comes to trial), and 25-year-old Plymouth Argyle player Luke McCormick sentenced to seven years and four months for killing two little children in a car crash. Barton also has previous for night-time road accidents, having injured a pedestrian in 2005.
The football hall of shame has, in recent years, also seen the inclusion of Jermaine Pennant (driving offences), Marlon King (driving offences and two cases of assault, one involving punching a woman), and Glen Johnson and Ben May (shoplifting, of all things).
TO LET THE PUNISHMENT FIT THE CRIME
Luke McCormick was at first suspended by his employers, Plymouth Argyle, then sacked, although the euphemism “contract cancelled by mutual consent” was used in the press. When his friend David Norris – the man whose wedding had provided McCormick with the excuse to go overboard – made the immature and offensive “handcuffs gesture” during a goal celebration and compounded his stupidity by lying about the gesture, his employers Ipswich Town fined him £25,000.
(Some people may also recall Tim Cahill’s “handcuffs gesture” during a goal celebration earlier this year. This was directed at his own brother, who is serving a prison sentence and was meant as a gesture of brotherly support as opposed to one of insolent defiance, although it could also be argued that it may be seen to endorse violence.)
It remains to be seen whether McCormick will be welcomed back into the footballing fold, but the omens, for him at least, are good. Lee Hughes, the 32-year-old Oldham Athletic player, was jailed for six years in August 2004 for killing one person and injuring another in a road accident during the 2003-4 season. Hughes even fled the scene rather than face up to his crime.
Hughes’ employers at the time, West Bromwich Albion, terminated his contract after the player had been sentenced. However, not only was Hughes bailed awaiting trial – allowing him to shrug off any alleged distress and become his club’s top scorer – he was offered a new contract at Oldham Athletic while still in prison. Barton, Pennant, King, Johnson and May still earn the obscene amounts paid to professional footballers of any division, and there is no doubt that Liverpool FC will abandon all pretence of dignity or integrity by continuing to employ Gerrard should he be convicted.
THE DEBT TO SOCIETY
Lee Hughes would argue that he paid the price for his crime – he was convicted of an offence and given a sentence which he served in accordance with the laws of his country – and that those laws state that not only should he not be punished beyond that, but he should be allowed every opportunity to re-enter society on an equal footing with any other citizen. He should certainly not be punished by being refused work simply because of his record.
It is indeed shocking when the holier-than-thou element of our society decides to continue punishing people for mistakes they have made in the past. How can a person be expected to live a decent life if the meagre opportunities they have clung to in the past are now converted into a brick wall of total rejection?
However, there is a clear case in favour of not allowing people to resume certain occupations even after completing sentences, depending on the crime and the occupation. A person convicted of any sort of crime involving children should not be a school teacher, for example. Somebody convicted of fraud should not be allowed to work in government or in any job involving the handling of large amounts of money.
ROLE MODELS
Anybody who has worked with children knows how influential football is on their lives. When a kid has a ball at their feet, they run like their favourite player and celebrate a goal in the same way, even though the goal is scored between two jerseys. In 1986 some of my classmates even came in wearing plaster casts on perfectly healthy arms. Nowadays, of course, children even protest in the same way as their idols, first diving then twisting their faces in perfect imitation.
The point is that they see the actions of their heroes, and the consequences of such actions. Children are not stupid – they are far more intelligent than a lot of people give them credit for. They may or may not think that the actions are acceptable, but they will always take note of a lack of punishment, and incorporate that knowledge into their take on the world.
And subsequently, their take on the world around them and the society they live in will manifest itself in the way they behave towards members of that society. So do we really want to allow the likes of McCormick and Gerrard to be their role models?
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
A lesson in history
Arsenal are enduring troubled times recently. Results in the Premier League so far this season have been unexpectedly poor, leaving the club with no chance of even pretending to compete with United and Chelsea. They have already lost more games than Hull City, and have even lost twice at home. So have Chelsea, of course, but the difference is that they at least look like title contenders.
In the Champions League their position appears to be stronger, but they have hardly convinced against average opposition, needing a highly biased referee – note the difference in the free kicks which led to Arsenal’s goal and Dinamo Kiev’s red card – to earn qualification without needing to win their last game. Chelsea have yet to impress either – but again they look more likely finalists.
Off the pitch things are hardly any better. William Gallas was photographed supposedly leaving a nightclub with a cigarette in his mouth, prompting sadly predictable references to Clinton. Gallas compounded his alleged sin by deigning to have an opinion on the team he captains – indirectly hinting at the reasons for the problems – thus inviting the ire of a manager who has always gone to ridiculous lengths to pretend his players are perfect.
Gallas’ replacement as captain is a highly unpopular youngster with no obvious leadership skills who has yet to demonstrate his mettle under the greatest pressure. And talking of youngsters, the teams fielded in the Carling Cup add more fuel to the fire by playing so well in a trophy already devalued by the likes of Arsenal that there are suggestions that they should replace the first team in the Premier League.
And perhaps the worst aspect of this crisis of confidence is the fact that record numbers of Arsenal fans are calling for Wenger’s head. Actually, no, the worst thing of all is the number of fans bleating about how this could possibly be happening in such a historic club.
A SENSE OF HISTORY
What do these fans mean when they talk about a historic club? Taking into account that most people do not know the exact difference between the words “historic” and “historical”, are they referring to the club’s history? Obviously every club has a history – it’s everything that has happened before today. Even teams that have never won anything have a past. Even MK Dons.
Are they trying to suggest that their club is older than most? Arsenal was founded in 1886, by which time dozens of clubs already existed in England alone. Age alone would make Prescot Cables a historic club.
Let’s face it, history means trophies, the only reason that clubs put teams out every week. And in that respect, Arsenal are simply a bunch of arrivistes.
NEW BOYS IN TOWN
Arsenal have won five league titles, five FA cups, one League Cup and the European Cup-Winners’ Cup – a fine haul indeed, but all won in the last twenty years. Before all that, Arsenal were just another run-of-the-mill team, except during a brief moment in time in the 1930s when they won another five titles and two FA cups. By the same token, Huddersfield Town dominated one decade, winning three league titles and an FA cup in the twenties – does that make them historic too?
For the rest of their existence, Arsenal were habitual runners-up who occasionally won the odd trophy. Most clubs manage to win the odd trophy, even if it is some random cup, including Leicester City, Norwich City and Luton Town. Even Sunderlandnil have won stuff.
Some may retort that United’s only period of dominance before the Ferguson years was from the late fifties to the late sixties, with the Munich tragedy causing a desperately unfortunate pause in that supremacy. However, at least during those glorious years United did manage to make history.
ONE OF THE FAMILY
There are, of course, other ways of interpreting the definition of the word “historic”. There is no doubt that there are certain clubs around England that have had a considerable “importance on or influence in” history, albeit in a more local sense. There is absolutely no denying, for example, the contribution that Newcastle United have made to the local community in the north-east.
The same can hardly be said of Arsenal, who are just another London team, and not even the only team in their area. Their brand-new stadium carries the name of a foreign country, not a local street or neighbourhood. Their fans are regarded as either non-participatory (as in “the Highbury Library”), members of the prawn sandwich brigade or people in distant countries whose favourite sons have managed to impress Wenger enough to secure a place in the team.
YOU’RE HISTORY
This is one of the unfortunate side effects of young fans jumping on the bandwagon of a club’s temporary success. I can remember when nobody had ever heard of Arsenal; kids nowadays only remember Wenger’s trophies. Arsenal fans like to look down on Chelsea fans as upstarts, people who support a club which has bought success and that only in recent seasons.
How conveniently they forget that that describes Arsenal fans of ten years ago to perfection.
And now that the Arsenal “faithful” are baying for Wenger’s blood, perhaps it is appropriate to mention the anti-climax being experienced at the club. The manager that many consider to be a genius appeared to be slowly but surely building up to a period of total European domination – yet when they finally stepped up to the stage, they were found wanting. And they have won nothing since.
Indeed it must be said that the overriding impression which comes from Arsenal today is that their years of success are now no more than history. Perhaps that’s what the fans mean.
In the Champions League their position appears to be stronger, but they have hardly convinced against average opposition, needing a highly biased referee – note the difference in the free kicks which led to Arsenal’s goal and Dinamo Kiev’s red card – to earn qualification without needing to win their last game. Chelsea have yet to impress either – but again they look more likely finalists.
Off the pitch things are hardly any better. William Gallas was photographed supposedly leaving a nightclub with a cigarette in his mouth, prompting sadly predictable references to Clinton. Gallas compounded his alleged sin by deigning to have an opinion on the team he captains – indirectly hinting at the reasons for the problems – thus inviting the ire of a manager who has always gone to ridiculous lengths to pretend his players are perfect.
Gallas’ replacement as captain is a highly unpopular youngster with no obvious leadership skills who has yet to demonstrate his mettle under the greatest pressure. And talking of youngsters, the teams fielded in the Carling Cup add more fuel to the fire by playing so well in a trophy already devalued by the likes of Arsenal that there are suggestions that they should replace the first team in the Premier League.
And perhaps the worst aspect of this crisis of confidence is the fact that record numbers of Arsenal fans are calling for Wenger’s head. Actually, no, the worst thing of all is the number of fans bleating about how this could possibly be happening in such a historic club.
A SENSE OF HISTORY
What do these fans mean when they talk about a historic club? Taking into account that most people do not know the exact difference between the words “historic” and “historical”, are they referring to the club’s history? Obviously every club has a history – it’s everything that has happened before today. Even teams that have never won anything have a past. Even MK Dons.
Are they trying to suggest that their club is older than most? Arsenal was founded in 1886, by which time dozens of clubs already existed in England alone. Age alone would make Prescot Cables a historic club.
Let’s face it, history means trophies, the only reason that clubs put teams out every week. And in that respect, Arsenal are simply a bunch of arrivistes.
NEW BOYS IN TOWN
Arsenal have won five league titles, five FA cups, one League Cup and the European Cup-Winners’ Cup – a fine haul indeed, but all won in the last twenty years. Before all that, Arsenal were just another run-of-the-mill team, except during a brief moment in time in the 1930s when they won another five titles and two FA cups. By the same token, Huddersfield Town dominated one decade, winning three league titles and an FA cup in the twenties – does that make them historic too?
For the rest of their existence, Arsenal were habitual runners-up who occasionally won the odd trophy. Most clubs manage to win the odd trophy, even if it is some random cup, including Leicester City, Norwich City and Luton Town. Even Sunderlandnil have won stuff.
Some may retort that United’s only period of dominance before the Ferguson years was from the late fifties to the late sixties, with the Munich tragedy causing a desperately unfortunate pause in that supremacy. However, at least during those glorious years United did manage to make history.
ONE OF THE FAMILY
There are, of course, other ways of interpreting the definition of the word “historic”. There is no doubt that there are certain clubs around England that have had a considerable “importance on or influence in” history, albeit in a more local sense. There is absolutely no denying, for example, the contribution that Newcastle United have made to the local community in the north-east.
The same can hardly be said of Arsenal, who are just another London team, and not even the only team in their area. Their brand-new stadium carries the name of a foreign country, not a local street or neighbourhood. Their fans are regarded as either non-participatory (as in “the Highbury Library”), members of the prawn sandwich brigade or people in distant countries whose favourite sons have managed to impress Wenger enough to secure a place in the team.
YOU’RE HISTORY
This is one of the unfortunate side effects of young fans jumping on the bandwagon of a club’s temporary success. I can remember when nobody had ever heard of Arsenal; kids nowadays only remember Wenger’s trophies. Arsenal fans like to look down on Chelsea fans as upstarts, people who support a club which has bought success and that only in recent seasons.
How conveniently they forget that that describes Arsenal fans of ten years ago to perfection.
And now that the Arsenal “faithful” are baying for Wenger’s blood, perhaps it is appropriate to mention the anti-climax being experienced at the club. The manager that many consider to be a genius appeared to be slowly but surely building up to a period of total European domination – yet when they finally stepped up to the stage, they were found wanting. And they have won nothing since.
Indeed it must be said that the overriding impression which comes from Arsenal today is that their years of success are now no more than history. Perhaps that’s what the fans mean.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Premier League, you're having a laugh
On May 21st 2008, UEFA announced the latest results of the co-efficient for European leagues, and the English Premier League became the new number one. English fans will surely have shrugged and moved on to another article in their breakfast newspaper. After all, the Champions League had seen three English clubs among the four semi-finalists for the second consecutive year, at least one English finalist for the fourth consecutive year, and an English winner for the third time in a decade.
Such was the supremacy of English football in Europe that both Champions League finalists in Moscow were from the Premier League.
Of course, at that last statistic the Spanish will have sniffed in disdain. Real Madrid and Valencia contested the first final between two clubs from the same league in 2000. Not to be outdone, the Italians will have reminded any English friends that Milan and Juventus followed suit in 2003. The Spanish will tell you about Real Madrid’s nine European Cups, including five on the trot and three in five years. The Italians will mention that they are at the top of the list with eleven trophies and fourteen runners-up.
Statistics, huh.
But how do you really judge which league is the best?
THE SPICE OF LIFE
Earlier this year – in fact, just a couple of weeks before UEFA’s announcement – Peter Scudamore was forced to come out and defend the “boring” Premier League after Kevin Keegan complained about the dominance of the top four. The then-Newcastle manager wasn’t the only one complaining, as many fans feel the same way. Of course, many fans would also love it, just love it if United lost, but that’s beside the point here.
So if English football is getting boring because the same old teams always win, does that mean excitement comes from variety? What about the neutral fan, which means almost everybody if you take into account the fact that come the business end of the season only a couple of teams are in contention. For the neutral, it’s not necessarily about trophies or bragging rights, so surely it’s about excitement too?
One day, sat in bed with a streaming cold, I could find nothing better to do than trawl the stats to find some answers to this question. I looked at what people generally consider to be the top five European leagues – England, Spain, France, Germany and Italy – and tried to judge how much variety there was in each league.
As a starting point I took the 1992-1993 season for the simple reason that it was the first season of the much-maligned or much-vaunted Premier League. Conveniently, it was also the first season in which three teams were relegated in Germany and also only a couple of seasons shy of the introduction of three points for a win in Spain.
In the seasons from 1992 to 2008, the Premier League had seen forty-two different clubs play, exactly the same as Serie A and only one more than La Liga. This may not have been the obvious starting point, but this one statistic appeared at the start of my search:
England 42
Italy 42
Spain 41
France 37
Germany 35
Not much difference there, then. So I looked at how many teams had been ever-present during the same period of time. England came out worse this time, with seven permanent fixtures, the same as Germany:
Italy 4
Spain 4
France 4
Germany 7
England 7
They are also very similar figures. How about different champions? Well, again the figures showed little difference between the top five leagues:
France 7 (8, if you include Olympique Marseille)
Italy 5
Spain 5
Germany 5
England 4
This statistic is again not very good for England, if we consider variety to be an important factor in excitement. Good for France though, with seven champions – it’s just a shame that the last seven titles have been won by the same team. That’s hardly exciting.
Next I looked at the proportion of promoted teams that were immediately relegated (I’m a Sunderlandnil fan, I know about these things), with the idea that perhaps seeing clubs come up and survive a fight would be more unpredictable and therefore more exciting than just watching them slip straight back down. Here are the figures:
Italy 30% (19 from 63)
France 34% (16 from 47)
Germany 35% (16 from 46)
Spain 40% (19 from 48)
England 47% (23 from 49)
So nearly half of all teams promoted to the Premier League went straight back from whence they came, leaving the same old clubs. Not good in terms of excitement. And yes, the cold was really bad and no, I wasn’t getting out much.
GOOOOOOOOL!
Of course, as has often been said, the currency of football is the goal. Who cares who’s playing as long as there are bucket-loads of goals? So I checked out the number of goals scored each season in each of the five leagues, although I had to reduce the result to an average scored per team per season because of the varying number of clubs in each league (from eighteen to twenty-two):
England 51 goals per team per season
Spain 51
Germany 49
Italy 46
France 43
Unfortunately, there is little difference again between the countries, in spite of the fact that England are back at the top of the table. The other problem with this statistic is the fact that goals are all very well when it’s your team knocking them in, but a different matter entirely when your defence is away with the fairies. First speak to the Barcelona fans about being the last top-flight club to score 100+ goals in a season, and then speak to any Derby fan. Actually, don’t say anything to the Catalans. That season they lost the league to Real Madrid. And you probably shouldn’t remind the Derby fans about last season either, come to think of it.
AND THE NUMBER NINE…
Trophies and statistics are all very well, but any football fan will tell you that going to the match week in, week out is the bread and butter of the game, following your team come hell or high water, travelling up and down the country in all sorts of weather. So what better incentive is there to go to the match than a star player?
Now here is where there are going to be some problems. We all know that the most expensive players are not necessarily the best – ask Benitez about that one – but there are as many opinions on who is a good player as there are fish in the sea. Any fan of any mid-table club will swear blind that one of their midfielders is the closest you will ever see to Maradona on a muddy Midlands park, and the fact that said clogger is not considered world-class may well be down to a question of marketing.
I had a peek at the winners of the European Footballer of the Year awards for the relevant years, and here is where the Premier League really comes unstuck. I looked at which leagues the respective winners of each year’s trophy played in at the time. The following figures include the fact that some players were awarded the trophy for their work in two leagues:
Italy 9 winners in playing in Serie A
Spain 7
Germany 1
France 1
England 1
Oh dear. Michael Owen is the only Premier League player to have lifted this coveted trophy (the impending crowning of Cristiano Ronaldo notwithstanding). In fact, even if you consider the top three players in the years that I have been looking at, the Premier League has fared only marginally better:
Italy 19 top three players playing in Serie A
Spain 15
England 10
Germany 4
France 1
Back on Planet Earth, though, I have just two words to say to that. Eric. Cantona.
Here’s two more. Thierry. Henry.
So that’s that one sorted.
SILVERWARE
Trophies equal bragging rights. How have Premier League clubs fared in Europe since they broke away from the rest? Here are some figures for the Champions League, which is coincidentally as old as the PL:
Italy 4 times winners 2 different teams
Spain 4 2
England 3 2
Germany 2 2
France 1 1
What about the UEFA Cup?
Italy 5 times winners 3 different teams
Spain 3 2
Germany 2 2
England 1 1
France 0 0
So we have come full circle. However, UEFA coefficients are all very well, but they take into account teams that fall halfway, and at the end of the day they mean nothing to fans. I even had difficulty finding reliable figures for the coefficient. One website told me that England had interrupted a run of eight years of Spanish dominance, which in turn had stopped nine years of Italian superiority. However, another website claimed that UEFA’s top league in 2006 was Romania. Whatever, these figures mean nothing. A trophy is a trophy, and an open-top bus is always better in idyllic Italy or sunny Spain.
Statistics, huh.
THE THEORY OF RELATIVITY
Everything in life is relative, and on the subject of which league is the best even Einstein couldn’t have come up with a coherent theory.
As much as the Premier League would like to ignore its poorer cousins, it cannot be denied that the quality of the top flight is to a certain extent affected by the quality of the Championship and the teams that are promoted.
Seeing smaller clubs like Hull reach the top flight is part of the spirit of football, but could mean smaller crowds in smaller stadiums. On the other hand, a new whipping-boy could mean a glut of goals. Although looking at Hull so far this season, I could be just as wrong there as I have been with everything else.
Everywhere I have travelled, local fans and the local press have all agreed that English fans are the most passionate and English grounds have the best atmosphere. And passion is something that you can’t measure.
GET OFF THE FENCE!
So I have dragged you through a mire of statistics for nothing – maybe it’s time I got off the fence and measured things with my heart instead of my head.
France and Germany? Joint last, with maybe Germany shading it because of their fan-friendly prices and grounds.
I remember the early days of Italian football on the telly with great fondness, but let’s face it, a large proportion of any Serie A game can be pedestrian. Third place.
So I’m left with England or Spain. United-Chelsea or Atletico-Barcelona (the highest goals-per-game average in Spanish football)? Hmmm. Bolton-Wigan or Numancia-Osasuna? Ahh. Sunny stadia or freezing grounds?
And that, my friends, is the answer. Sitting in the sun is great when you’re on holiday, but it’s not real life. And nothing brightens up your winter more than stamping your feet in an English stand. Cold winter evenings coming back from the game listening to the results service on the car radio. Boxing Day matches.
West Brom’s miraculous survival. Derby’s ordeal. Spurs’ quest for points. And Eric Cantona’s collar. That’s why the Premier League is the best.
Such was the supremacy of English football in Europe that both Champions League finalists in Moscow were from the Premier League.
Of course, at that last statistic the Spanish will have sniffed in disdain. Real Madrid and Valencia contested the first final between two clubs from the same league in 2000. Not to be outdone, the Italians will have reminded any English friends that Milan and Juventus followed suit in 2003. The Spanish will tell you about Real Madrid’s nine European Cups, including five on the trot and three in five years. The Italians will mention that they are at the top of the list with eleven trophies and fourteen runners-up.
Statistics, huh.
But how do you really judge which league is the best?
THE SPICE OF LIFE
Earlier this year – in fact, just a couple of weeks before UEFA’s announcement – Peter Scudamore was forced to come out and defend the “boring” Premier League after Kevin Keegan complained about the dominance of the top four. The then-Newcastle manager wasn’t the only one complaining, as many fans feel the same way. Of course, many fans would also love it, just love it if United lost, but that’s beside the point here.
So if English football is getting boring because the same old teams always win, does that mean excitement comes from variety? What about the neutral fan, which means almost everybody if you take into account the fact that come the business end of the season only a couple of teams are in contention. For the neutral, it’s not necessarily about trophies or bragging rights, so surely it’s about excitement too?
One day, sat in bed with a streaming cold, I could find nothing better to do than trawl the stats to find some answers to this question. I looked at what people generally consider to be the top five European leagues – England, Spain, France, Germany and Italy – and tried to judge how much variety there was in each league.
As a starting point I took the 1992-1993 season for the simple reason that it was the first season of the much-maligned or much-vaunted Premier League. Conveniently, it was also the first season in which three teams were relegated in Germany and also only a couple of seasons shy of the introduction of three points for a win in Spain.
In the seasons from 1992 to 2008, the Premier League had seen forty-two different clubs play, exactly the same as Serie A and only one more than La Liga. This may not have been the obvious starting point, but this one statistic appeared at the start of my search:
England 42
Italy 42
Spain 41
France 37
Germany 35
Not much difference there, then. So I looked at how many teams had been ever-present during the same period of time. England came out worse this time, with seven permanent fixtures, the same as Germany:
Italy 4
Spain 4
France 4
Germany 7
England 7
They are also very similar figures. How about different champions? Well, again the figures showed little difference between the top five leagues:
France 7 (8, if you include Olympique Marseille)
Italy 5
Spain 5
Germany 5
England 4
This statistic is again not very good for England, if we consider variety to be an important factor in excitement. Good for France though, with seven champions – it’s just a shame that the last seven titles have been won by the same team. That’s hardly exciting.
Next I looked at the proportion of promoted teams that were immediately relegated (I’m a Sunderlandnil fan, I know about these things), with the idea that perhaps seeing clubs come up and survive a fight would be more unpredictable and therefore more exciting than just watching them slip straight back down. Here are the figures:
Italy 30% (19 from 63)
France 34% (16 from 47)
Germany 35% (16 from 46)
Spain 40% (19 from 48)
England 47% (23 from 49)
So nearly half of all teams promoted to the Premier League went straight back from whence they came, leaving the same old clubs. Not good in terms of excitement. And yes, the cold was really bad and no, I wasn’t getting out much.
GOOOOOOOOL!
Of course, as has often been said, the currency of football is the goal. Who cares who’s playing as long as there are bucket-loads of goals? So I checked out the number of goals scored each season in each of the five leagues, although I had to reduce the result to an average scored per team per season because of the varying number of clubs in each league (from eighteen to twenty-two):
England 51 goals per team per season
Spain 51
Germany 49
Italy 46
France 43
Unfortunately, there is little difference again between the countries, in spite of the fact that England are back at the top of the table. The other problem with this statistic is the fact that goals are all very well when it’s your team knocking them in, but a different matter entirely when your defence is away with the fairies. First speak to the Barcelona fans about being the last top-flight club to score 100+ goals in a season, and then speak to any Derby fan. Actually, don’t say anything to the Catalans. That season they lost the league to Real Madrid. And you probably shouldn’t remind the Derby fans about last season either, come to think of it.
AND THE NUMBER NINE…
Trophies and statistics are all very well, but any football fan will tell you that going to the match week in, week out is the bread and butter of the game, following your team come hell or high water, travelling up and down the country in all sorts of weather. So what better incentive is there to go to the match than a star player?
Now here is where there are going to be some problems. We all know that the most expensive players are not necessarily the best – ask Benitez about that one – but there are as many opinions on who is a good player as there are fish in the sea. Any fan of any mid-table club will swear blind that one of their midfielders is the closest you will ever see to Maradona on a muddy Midlands park, and the fact that said clogger is not considered world-class may well be down to a question of marketing.
I had a peek at the winners of the European Footballer of the Year awards for the relevant years, and here is where the Premier League really comes unstuck. I looked at which leagues the respective winners of each year’s trophy played in at the time. The following figures include the fact that some players were awarded the trophy for their work in two leagues:
Italy 9 winners in playing in Serie A
Spain 7
Germany 1
France 1
England 1
Oh dear. Michael Owen is the only Premier League player to have lifted this coveted trophy (the impending crowning of Cristiano Ronaldo notwithstanding). In fact, even if you consider the top three players in the years that I have been looking at, the Premier League has fared only marginally better:
Italy 19 top three players playing in Serie A
Spain 15
England 10
Germany 4
France 1
Back on Planet Earth, though, I have just two words to say to that. Eric. Cantona.
Here’s two more. Thierry. Henry.
So that’s that one sorted.
SILVERWARE
Trophies equal bragging rights. How have Premier League clubs fared in Europe since they broke away from the rest? Here are some figures for the Champions League, which is coincidentally as old as the PL:
Italy 4 times winners 2 different teams
Spain 4 2
England 3 2
Germany 2 2
France 1 1
What about the UEFA Cup?
Italy 5 times winners 3 different teams
Spain 3 2
Germany 2 2
England 1 1
France 0 0
So we have come full circle. However, UEFA coefficients are all very well, but they take into account teams that fall halfway, and at the end of the day they mean nothing to fans. I even had difficulty finding reliable figures for the coefficient. One website told me that England had interrupted a run of eight years of Spanish dominance, which in turn had stopped nine years of Italian superiority. However, another website claimed that UEFA’s top league in 2006 was Romania. Whatever, these figures mean nothing. A trophy is a trophy, and an open-top bus is always better in idyllic Italy or sunny Spain.
Statistics, huh.
THE THEORY OF RELATIVITY
Everything in life is relative, and on the subject of which league is the best even Einstein couldn’t have come up with a coherent theory.
As much as the Premier League would like to ignore its poorer cousins, it cannot be denied that the quality of the top flight is to a certain extent affected by the quality of the Championship and the teams that are promoted.
Seeing smaller clubs like Hull reach the top flight is part of the spirit of football, but could mean smaller crowds in smaller stadiums. On the other hand, a new whipping-boy could mean a glut of goals. Although looking at Hull so far this season, I could be just as wrong there as I have been with everything else.
Everywhere I have travelled, local fans and the local press have all agreed that English fans are the most passionate and English grounds have the best atmosphere. And passion is something that you can’t measure.
GET OFF THE FENCE!
So I have dragged you through a mire of statistics for nothing – maybe it’s time I got off the fence and measured things with my heart instead of my head.
France and Germany? Joint last, with maybe Germany shading it because of their fan-friendly prices and grounds.
I remember the early days of Italian football on the telly with great fondness, but let’s face it, a large proportion of any Serie A game can be pedestrian. Third place.
So I’m left with England or Spain. United-Chelsea or Atletico-Barcelona (the highest goals-per-game average in Spanish football)? Hmmm. Bolton-Wigan or Numancia-Osasuna? Ahh. Sunny stadia or freezing grounds?
And that, my friends, is the answer. Sitting in the sun is great when you’re on holiday, but it’s not real life. And nothing brightens up your winter more than stamping your feet in an English stand. Cold winter evenings coming back from the game listening to the results service on the car radio. Boxing Day matches.
West Brom’s miraculous survival. Derby’s ordeal. Spurs’ quest for points. And Eric Cantona’s collar. That’s why the Premier League is the best.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Boyd for England!
In 1947 a young – and highly gifted – Argentinean turned out for his country for the first time, and according to his autobiography it was a moment of great pride for him and his family. Unfortunately he only ever achieved six caps for his country, yet his career had not been cut short by either horrific injury or an unsympathetic coach.
In 1949 the same young, talented player turned out for Colombia, and played for them for a total of four games. He failed to add to his six goals on the international stage.
By 1957 this still excellent player was earning his first cap for Spain, for whom he played thirty-one times and scored twenty-three goals. He has never made any attempt to deny one important thing – he was earning much more money playing for Franco’s two teams (Real Madrid and Spain) than he ever had anywhere else.
Move forward fifty-odd years, and it appears that the Nacho Novo case is attracting unusual amounts of attention, as well as the usual knee-jerk cries of “racist!”
SIMON OR SIMONE?
Even for people who don’t remember di Stefano’s playing days, there are many examples of people playing for other countries including Owen Hargreaves, who was born in Calgary, which is apparently in Alberta (my knowledge of Canadian geography is sketchy at best) and Simone Perrotta, who was born in Ashton-under-Lyne, Greater Manchester. Ashton-under-Lyne could never even be described as cosmopolitan, and is as English as they come. And if you need any more convincing, take a look at wor Jackie’s Irish team.
Of course Hargreaves is the son of an English couple, and Perrotta was the son of Italian parents and grew up in Italy from the age of six.
This issue certainly isn’t confined to football. If you look at the table tennis teams entered in the Olympic Games, it seems that almost every one has a Chinese name. Funny that. Johann Muehlegg – as Spanish a name as any I’ve ever heard – was a gold medal-winning cross-country skier who was revered by the Spanish. Until he failed a drugs test, that is, at which point he was comprehensively shunned. As Brenda Fricker once said, “When you win the Oscar you’re British, but when you’re lying drunk in an airport you’re Irish”.
SPANISH BLOOD, SCOTTISH HEART
I totally agree with the many complaints about the fusty suits and ties that govern a game which should belong to the people. I imagine that the SFA is the same archaic old boys’ club as the English FA or the famously incompetent FAI. I also sympathise with the worries about racism and the relevance of laws such as those created because of the Bosman ruling.
I am aware that the years of unbroken residence would give Novo a British passport as opposed to a Scottish one, and I understand that the respective national associations don’t want to give FIFA any excuse to start on about a British team. (We obviously need to continue with the present England-Scotland-Wales format in preparation for the inevitable and well-deserved devolution of power. We’ll talk about the Six Counties some other time.)
And I certainly don’t care where people come from or where they ply their trade.
However, let’s set aside the law and political correctness and look at football.
Surely the point of an international – national – fixture is having eleven home-grown players against eleven of the same. You want to be able to identify with your players, who could have grown up in your town and speak the same lingo (figuratively) as you. In these modern times of multi-cultural societies it doesn’t matter if they are black when the Scottish are traditionally white and it doesn’t matter whether they are Muslim when the Scottish are traditionally Christian – but I reckon the fans will want the players to at least be Scottish.
Any doubts about that – look at how Brazilian Deco is treated by the Portuguese.
GALIZA – UNHA NACIÓN, UNHA SELECCIÓN
And as for Nacho Novo – sit him down in front of a Spain-Scotland match (or a Galiza-Scotland, which is much more to the point in this argument) and see what happens. I’m sure that he’ll be cheering the Irmandiña on before the game has even started. After all, he’s never played for Spain any more than he has for Scotland, but he has played for the Galician national team.
And now that we’re at it, put an Englishman in the Scottish team and see what happens!
The fans already complain about the lack of commitment of the players – how is a Spanish person expected to sweat a Scottish shirt as much as the fans want him to? How could Almunia or Cudicini ever give their all for England against Spain or Italy? I admit that they would want to try their best in order to impress the coach that never picked them, but at the end of the day, blood will out. Unless it’s true that modern players really are the mercenaries that people believe them to be, and will give their all for the same wad of cash that so motivates Ashley Cole.
CLUB OVER COUNTRY
I actually don’t care about international football. I rarely watch England games, and never watch other countries. The European Championships bore me to tears. The World Cup only interests me as long as whichever minnow I happen to be supporting is still playing.
These matches have totally lost the magic they had when I was a kid. Perhaps it’s because I hate rivalry between countries and flags and the inevitable skinheads and their archaic drivel about “the war”. Maybe it’s because of the succession of awful England teams and worse England managers over the last twenty years. I used to believe the hype. Not any more.
Maybe it’s simply the result of my growing disillusion towards football in general. Why should we follow a bunch of ignorant millionaire prima donnas? Why should we continue to follow teams that have very little connection either with their working-class roots or indeed the communities which have nurtured them for over a century?
And what’s the use of supporting “England” if the players aren’t English. Come to think of it, what’s the use of supporting Manchester United if the players aren’t Manc?
Come back the Lisbon lions!
In 1949 the same young, talented player turned out for Colombia, and played for them for a total of four games. He failed to add to his six goals on the international stage.
By 1957 this still excellent player was earning his first cap for Spain, for whom he played thirty-one times and scored twenty-three goals. He has never made any attempt to deny one important thing – he was earning much more money playing for Franco’s two teams (Real Madrid and Spain) than he ever had anywhere else.
Move forward fifty-odd years, and it appears that the Nacho Novo case is attracting unusual amounts of attention, as well as the usual knee-jerk cries of “racist!”
SIMON OR SIMONE?
Even for people who don’t remember di Stefano’s playing days, there are many examples of people playing for other countries including Owen Hargreaves, who was born in Calgary, which is apparently in Alberta (my knowledge of Canadian geography is sketchy at best) and Simone Perrotta, who was born in Ashton-under-Lyne, Greater Manchester. Ashton-under-Lyne could never even be described as cosmopolitan, and is as English as they come. And if you need any more convincing, take a look at wor Jackie’s Irish team.
Of course Hargreaves is the son of an English couple, and Perrotta was the son of Italian parents and grew up in Italy from the age of six.
This issue certainly isn’t confined to football. If you look at the table tennis teams entered in the Olympic Games, it seems that almost every one has a Chinese name. Funny that. Johann Muehlegg – as Spanish a name as any I’ve ever heard – was a gold medal-winning cross-country skier who was revered by the Spanish. Until he failed a drugs test, that is, at which point he was comprehensively shunned. As Brenda Fricker once said, “When you win the Oscar you’re British, but when you’re lying drunk in an airport you’re Irish”.
SPANISH BLOOD, SCOTTISH HEART
I totally agree with the many complaints about the fusty suits and ties that govern a game which should belong to the people. I imagine that the SFA is the same archaic old boys’ club as the English FA or the famously incompetent FAI. I also sympathise with the worries about racism and the relevance of laws such as those created because of the Bosman ruling.
I am aware that the years of unbroken residence would give Novo a British passport as opposed to a Scottish one, and I understand that the respective national associations don’t want to give FIFA any excuse to start on about a British team. (We obviously need to continue with the present England-Scotland-Wales format in preparation for the inevitable and well-deserved devolution of power. We’ll talk about the Six Counties some other time.)
And I certainly don’t care where people come from or where they ply their trade.
However, let’s set aside the law and political correctness and look at football.
Surely the point of an international – national – fixture is having eleven home-grown players against eleven of the same. You want to be able to identify with your players, who could have grown up in your town and speak the same lingo (figuratively) as you. In these modern times of multi-cultural societies it doesn’t matter if they are black when the Scottish are traditionally white and it doesn’t matter whether they are Muslim when the Scottish are traditionally Christian – but I reckon the fans will want the players to at least be Scottish.
Any doubts about that – look at how Brazilian Deco is treated by the Portuguese.
GALIZA – UNHA NACIÓN, UNHA SELECCIÓN
And as for Nacho Novo – sit him down in front of a Spain-Scotland match (or a Galiza-Scotland, which is much more to the point in this argument) and see what happens. I’m sure that he’ll be cheering the Irmandiña on before the game has even started. After all, he’s never played for Spain any more than he has for Scotland, but he has played for the Galician national team.
And now that we’re at it, put an Englishman in the Scottish team and see what happens!
The fans already complain about the lack of commitment of the players – how is a Spanish person expected to sweat a Scottish shirt as much as the fans want him to? How could Almunia or Cudicini ever give their all for England against Spain or Italy? I admit that they would want to try their best in order to impress the coach that never picked them, but at the end of the day, blood will out. Unless it’s true that modern players really are the mercenaries that people believe them to be, and will give their all for the same wad of cash that so motivates Ashley Cole.
CLUB OVER COUNTRY
I actually don’t care about international football. I rarely watch England games, and never watch other countries. The European Championships bore me to tears. The World Cup only interests me as long as whichever minnow I happen to be supporting is still playing.
These matches have totally lost the magic they had when I was a kid. Perhaps it’s because I hate rivalry between countries and flags and the inevitable skinheads and their archaic drivel about “the war”. Maybe it’s because of the succession of awful England teams and worse England managers over the last twenty years. I used to believe the hype. Not any more.
Maybe it’s simply the result of my growing disillusion towards football in general. Why should we follow a bunch of ignorant millionaire prima donnas? Why should we continue to follow teams that have very little connection either with their working-class roots or indeed the communities which have nurtured them for over a century?
And what’s the use of supporting “England” if the players aren’t English. Come to think of it, what’s the use of supporting Manchester United if the players aren’t Manc?
Come back the Lisbon lions!
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Attractive football?
Football fans often prefer to “stay positive” in defeat, claiming that the loss was made less serious by the fact that their team played really well. A clear example of this was the bleating of the Liverpool fans after slumping to an apparently undeserved defeat yesterday to trapdoor club, and everyone’s favourite whipping boy of the moment, Spurs.
More than one team have played incredibly unattractive football this season and have somehow won a load of matches. Benítez’s awful Liverpool side is by far the worst culprit, slumping to undeserved victory week after week. If they carry on doing this all season and win the league, will their supporters worry about how the title was won? I seriously doubt it.
And how little they care will be directly proportional to the number of years they have waited to lift that particular trophy. Liverpool were to win the league title for the first time since the last time, they will conveniently forget how it was achieved. It must be said, of course, that for the seven top-flight clubs who have never won a league title this is as forgivable as it is understandable. For a club like Liverpool, who talk not of history but of heritage, it seems a tad pathetic.
To the neutral observer, it doesn't seem to bode well when the fans start praising the quality of the football in defeat, because it sounds like those fans are preparing for another trophy-less season.
And at the end of the day, the team at the top of the Premier League and the team in third place look good for the title AND play decent football pretty much week in, week out. In the case of league leaders Chelsea, this must seem twice as sweet considering the fact that the charge of playing ugly football has been continuously levelled at them by the Chelski-haters ever since Abramovich took over.
So perhaps the Liverpool fans should be content to cheer for a victory each week and wait for the final verdict on their team’s season before claiming any bragging rights.
Playing attractive football is what keeps you warm at night when your rivals are winning trophies. Or not, when your night is filled with the nightmare of your rival winning the league and in Europe.
More than one team have played incredibly unattractive football this season and have somehow won a load of matches. Benítez’s awful Liverpool side is by far the worst culprit, slumping to undeserved victory week after week. If they carry on doing this all season and win the league, will their supporters worry about how the title was won? I seriously doubt it.
And how little they care will be directly proportional to the number of years they have waited to lift that particular trophy. Liverpool were to win the league title for the first time since the last time, they will conveniently forget how it was achieved. It must be said, of course, that for the seven top-flight clubs who have never won a league title this is as forgivable as it is understandable. For a club like Liverpool, who talk not of history but of heritage, it seems a tad pathetic.
To the neutral observer, it doesn't seem to bode well when the fans start praising the quality of the football in defeat, because it sounds like those fans are preparing for another trophy-less season.
And at the end of the day, the team at the top of the Premier League and the team in third place look good for the title AND play decent football pretty much week in, week out. In the case of league leaders Chelsea, this must seem twice as sweet considering the fact that the charge of playing ugly football has been continuously levelled at them by the Chelski-haters ever since Abramovich took over.
So perhaps the Liverpool fans should be content to cheer for a victory each week and wait for the final verdict on their team’s season before claiming any bragging rights.
Playing attractive football is what keeps you warm at night when your rivals are winning trophies. Or not, when your night is filled with the nightmare of your rival winning the league and in Europe.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
A titanic sinking
How good’s your history? Remember anything about the year 1912?
Yeah, that boat sank, but there were lots of other interesting things happening too. Amundsen announced that he was the first person to reach the South Pole. Scott didn’t. Captain Oates announced that he was going out and that he may be some time, and indeed he has been some time, because 106 years later he has yet to come back.
March 1912 saw the first ever parachute jump from a “moving” plane. Now, my aeronautical engineering is a little rusty, but that suggests to me that previous parachutists had been daring enough to jump from about a metre up.
Elsewhere, some bloke flew somewhere non-stop, some woman flew somewhere else non-stop, and in August sodomy was legalised in France.
However, I bet that on this particular footballing weekend, most fans will associate the date with the misfortunes of one of English football’s biggest clubs, Tottenham Hotspur.
Apparently, this season is their worst start to any season since 1912. They have collected only two points from their first seven games, a tally so poor that people are even talking about Derby County in the same breath.
Admittedly, they have already had to play Chelsea, but they have also come up against such supposed relegation fodder as Wigan Athletic, Hull City and the always unpredictable Sunderland. And ironically they actually got a point from the Chelsea game.
HISTORY’S A FUNNY OLD GAME
In that 1912-1913 season that Spurs started so badly, the first division title was won by my team Sunderlandnil (this was a good seventy years before the name change, when they still played under the old name Sunderland), who had been playing glorious football for thirty-odd years.
Sunderland (as was) were so good that they also reached the FA Cup final, where they lost to Aston Villa, thus putting off the first ever league and cup double another half century until the 1960-1961 season when it was finally achieved by … Spurs.
That league title was the fifth in twenty years for Sunderland, and without any shadow of a doubt they would have been in with a shout in any European competition, had such things existed at that time. As it stands though, English football had to wait until 1963 for its first major European trophy, when the European Cup-winners’ Cup was won by … Spurs.
And the FA cup has been a happy hunting ground for Sunderland, with arguably the greatest cupset coming in the 1973 final when Stokoe’s second-division team beat the great Leeds United 1-0. Of course, the second division is a heady height indeed compared to the situation of the 1901 winners, the Southern League outfit Spurs.
It must also be said that when I was a kid growing up, before the (re-)emergence of modern greats like Manchester United and Arsenal, Spurs was THE great cup-winning side. In 1991 they won their eighth FA Cup, a record which stood for a few more years, at least.
WALKING ALONE
1912 also saw a feat achieved which was not to be repeated for another seventy-three years. Towards the end of the previous season (1911-1912) Spurs went to Anfield and won 0-1 with a fifth-minute goal from Tom Mason. They would not win there again until 1985.
The Liverpool-Spurs match had been played on the 16th March 1912, just a month before that incident with the boat, and I clearly remember the emphasis that the television and newspaper journalists placed on the coincidence of the date, talking about how the last time Spurs had beaten Liverpool at Anfield had been before the sinking of the Titanic.
BACK TO THE FUTURE
At the end of that 1912-1913 season, Spurs finished in 17th place (only the bottom two went down in those days), surviving the drop with a total of 42 of our Earth points. Since 1995, the only team to be relegated from the top flight having reached 42 points was West Ham in 2003.
Spurs travel back to Anfield on Saturday 24th May next year – the last day of the season. Will they already have crawled their way up to those 42 points, or will their fate be decided on a pitch that they still rarely win on?
For the sake of Tottenham’s fans, you would hope it was the first option, because if a club as steeped in history as Spurs goes down, it will be a titanic sinking indeed.
Yeah, that boat sank, but there were lots of other interesting things happening too. Amundsen announced that he was the first person to reach the South Pole. Scott didn’t. Captain Oates announced that he was going out and that he may be some time, and indeed he has been some time, because 106 years later he has yet to come back.
March 1912 saw the first ever parachute jump from a “moving” plane. Now, my aeronautical engineering is a little rusty, but that suggests to me that previous parachutists had been daring enough to jump from about a metre up.
Elsewhere, some bloke flew somewhere non-stop, some woman flew somewhere else non-stop, and in August sodomy was legalised in France.
However, I bet that on this particular footballing weekend, most fans will associate the date with the misfortunes of one of English football’s biggest clubs, Tottenham Hotspur.
Apparently, this season is their worst start to any season since 1912. They have collected only two points from their first seven games, a tally so poor that people are even talking about Derby County in the same breath.
Admittedly, they have already had to play Chelsea, but they have also come up against such supposed relegation fodder as Wigan Athletic, Hull City and the always unpredictable Sunderland. And ironically they actually got a point from the Chelsea game.
HISTORY’S A FUNNY OLD GAME
In that 1912-1913 season that Spurs started so badly, the first division title was won by my team Sunderlandnil (this was a good seventy years before the name change, when they still played under the old name Sunderland), who had been playing glorious football for thirty-odd years.
Sunderland (as was) were so good that they also reached the FA Cup final, where they lost to Aston Villa, thus putting off the first ever league and cup double another half century until the 1960-1961 season when it was finally achieved by … Spurs.
That league title was the fifth in twenty years for Sunderland, and without any shadow of a doubt they would have been in with a shout in any European competition, had such things existed at that time. As it stands though, English football had to wait until 1963 for its first major European trophy, when the European Cup-winners’ Cup was won by … Spurs.
And the FA cup has been a happy hunting ground for Sunderland, with arguably the greatest cupset coming in the 1973 final when Stokoe’s second-division team beat the great Leeds United 1-0. Of course, the second division is a heady height indeed compared to the situation of the 1901 winners, the Southern League outfit Spurs.
It must also be said that when I was a kid growing up, before the (re-)emergence of modern greats like Manchester United and Arsenal, Spurs was THE great cup-winning side. In 1991 they won their eighth FA Cup, a record which stood for a few more years, at least.
WALKING ALONE
1912 also saw a feat achieved which was not to be repeated for another seventy-three years. Towards the end of the previous season (1911-1912) Spurs went to Anfield and won 0-1 with a fifth-minute goal from Tom Mason. They would not win there again until 1985.
The Liverpool-Spurs match had been played on the 16th March 1912, just a month before that incident with the boat, and I clearly remember the emphasis that the television and newspaper journalists placed on the coincidence of the date, talking about how the last time Spurs had beaten Liverpool at Anfield had been before the sinking of the Titanic.
BACK TO THE FUTURE
At the end of that 1912-1913 season, Spurs finished in 17th place (only the bottom two went down in those days), surviving the drop with a total of 42 of our Earth points. Since 1995, the only team to be relegated from the top flight having reached 42 points was West Ham in 2003.
Spurs travel back to Anfield on Saturday 24th May next year – the last day of the season. Will they already have crawled their way up to those 42 points, or will their fate be decided on a pitch that they still rarely win on?
For the sake of Tottenham’s fans, you would hope it was the first option, because if a club as steeped in history as Spurs goes down, it will be a titanic sinking indeed.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
The pot and the kettle
So that glorious institution, the FA, is going to boycott the Bernabéu. Quite right too. The treatment dished out to more than a handful of England players in 2004 was shocking.
I lived in Spain for 14 years, 13 of them in Madrid. I love the Spanish. With my tongue nowhere near my cheek I can say that some of my best friends are Spanish. I love their way of life, their Devil-may-care attitude and above all their generosity. “Where three can eat, so can four!” they cry as they push a plate towards you. And of course this generosity extends to foreigners.
However, there is no shadow of a doubt that racism is endemic in Spanish sport.
WHITE AS SNOW
Whenever there’s an important match, the old stories get brought out and dusted down for the occasion. The fans hate the English because they stole all of Columbus’ silver, and they call the British “los hijos de la Gran Bretaña”, another way of saying “el hijo de la gran puta”. They hate the French for being stuck up and the Portuguese for being inferior. They hate imperialist Americans and cocky Argentineans and cheating Italians.
But most of all they hate anybody who is not as white as an olive.
They still use expressions containing the word “black” as a pejorative. They continue to call North Africans and Latin Americans names that are offensive to Moroccans and Columbians alike. I could go on forever about how racist the language is. All of this is ironic in a country whose language, architecture and music are heavily influenced by North Africa.
¡VIVA FRANCO!
When I first went there I only knew Real Madrid, but very soon I grew to hate their fascist Ultras Sur supporters, and I switched to where I felt more comfortable. However, even the working class Atlético have their fascist Frente Atlético group, as everybody has seen from the events which have closed down the stadium for the next two Champions’ League games. And Barcelona have the Boixos Nois. And Betis have the Supporters Sur. And so on through every division of Spanish football. It is also ironic that everyone in Spain hates Real Madrid for its fascist fans when every team has their own brand of Ultras.
The radical fans generally wear Spanish fascist symbols, from the era when Franco ruled with a rod of iron. Some of the older ones even sport the pencil moustache worn by “El Caudillo” himself, and the younger ones wear swastikas on armbands and sing Franco’s anthem, even though a lot of them were born ten years or more after his death and have no experience of his regime.
And with alarming regularity the violence of words becomes the violence of actions. In the last few years we have seen the coin thrown at a referee during a Valencia-Deportivo match, and the bottle thrown at Juande Ramos in a Betis-Sevilla, not to mention the tragicomic episode of the crutch in the Ruíz de Lopera in Seville.
WHO, ME?
Perhaps the worst aspect of this racism is the fact that they are completely oblivious to it all. When Aragonés insulted Thierry Henry just before that friendly, the Spanish Federation declared that “there was no hint of racism in his words”. Finally, after huge pressure from both UEFA and FIFA (so I believe), they shook their heads in disbelief and fined the man a mere 3,000 euros for “an act against the decorum of football”. This, of course, sent a clear message to the fans.
And it isn’t just the football. When the entire Spanish Olympic basketball squad posed in full kit mimicking the eyes of oriental people, there was worldwide uproar, but the incident was laughed off in Spain as “just a joke”. That comment was the end of the incident as far as the Spanish sporting press was concerned. They really couldn’t understand the fuss.
LET’S TEACH THEM A LESSON
So it’s lucky that so many Spanish players and coaches are now in England. Perhaps they will observe more moderate ways and import them back into Spain.
Or perhaps not.
Perhaps they will just learn how the English hate the French, Germans and Argentineans. Maybe they will just learn the art of the tabloid headline, using irrelevant and archaic contexts to fuel racial hatred before certain international fixtures. Or they will see how the young Irish trainees at Plymouth Argyle were all called “Paddy” in an unintelligent attempt to make them feel like they belonged. Indeed they could hear the terrace taunts against Sol Campbell (which the FA did nothing about) or the hissing of the gas chambers at White Hart Lane. Maybe they will see how in English books and films the “paddy” is always the thick, drunken man with his fists in the air, or how the “jock” is the incomprehensible, tight-fisted redneck, or how the “taffy” is the dirty, uncultured farmer who lusts after his own livestock.
Or is that all “just a joke” too?
Do you think they found it funny in Marseille, and in Charleroi, and in Stuttgart, Bratislava and the Algarve when the hooliganism which has come to be synonymous with the English once more ruined a decent tournament? Do you think anybody laughed at the images of that poor Turkish man who found himself in the middle of a crowd of some five thousand baying hooligans in a normally peaceful German square?
Just watch any La Liga match and look at the banners with bulldogs on them and slogans in English, and ask yourself which nation provides the role models for hooligans.
That’s the problem with racists – they can never see the mote in their own eye.
I lived in Spain for 14 years, 13 of them in Madrid. I love the Spanish. With my tongue nowhere near my cheek I can say that some of my best friends are Spanish. I love their way of life, their Devil-may-care attitude and above all their generosity. “Where three can eat, so can four!” they cry as they push a plate towards you. And of course this generosity extends to foreigners.
However, there is no shadow of a doubt that racism is endemic in Spanish sport.
WHITE AS SNOW
Whenever there’s an important match, the old stories get brought out and dusted down for the occasion. The fans hate the English because they stole all of Columbus’ silver, and they call the British “los hijos de la Gran Bretaña”, another way of saying “el hijo de la gran puta”. They hate the French for being stuck up and the Portuguese for being inferior. They hate imperialist Americans and cocky Argentineans and cheating Italians.
But most of all they hate anybody who is not as white as an olive.
They still use expressions containing the word “black” as a pejorative. They continue to call North Africans and Latin Americans names that are offensive to Moroccans and Columbians alike. I could go on forever about how racist the language is. All of this is ironic in a country whose language, architecture and music are heavily influenced by North Africa.
¡VIVA FRANCO!
When I first went there I only knew Real Madrid, but very soon I grew to hate their fascist Ultras Sur supporters, and I switched to where I felt more comfortable. However, even the working class Atlético have their fascist Frente Atlético group, as everybody has seen from the events which have closed down the stadium for the next two Champions’ League games. And Barcelona have the Boixos Nois. And Betis have the Supporters Sur. And so on through every division of Spanish football. It is also ironic that everyone in Spain hates Real Madrid for its fascist fans when every team has their own brand of Ultras.
The radical fans generally wear Spanish fascist symbols, from the era when Franco ruled with a rod of iron. Some of the older ones even sport the pencil moustache worn by “El Caudillo” himself, and the younger ones wear swastikas on armbands and sing Franco’s anthem, even though a lot of them were born ten years or more after his death and have no experience of his regime.
And with alarming regularity the violence of words becomes the violence of actions. In the last few years we have seen the coin thrown at a referee during a Valencia-Deportivo match, and the bottle thrown at Juande Ramos in a Betis-Sevilla, not to mention the tragicomic episode of the crutch in the Ruíz de Lopera in Seville.
WHO, ME?
Perhaps the worst aspect of this racism is the fact that they are completely oblivious to it all. When Aragonés insulted Thierry Henry just before that friendly, the Spanish Federation declared that “there was no hint of racism in his words”. Finally, after huge pressure from both UEFA and FIFA (so I believe), they shook their heads in disbelief and fined the man a mere 3,000 euros for “an act against the decorum of football”. This, of course, sent a clear message to the fans.
And it isn’t just the football. When the entire Spanish Olympic basketball squad posed in full kit mimicking the eyes of oriental people, there was worldwide uproar, but the incident was laughed off in Spain as “just a joke”. That comment was the end of the incident as far as the Spanish sporting press was concerned. They really couldn’t understand the fuss.
LET’S TEACH THEM A LESSON
So it’s lucky that so many Spanish players and coaches are now in England. Perhaps they will observe more moderate ways and import them back into Spain.
Or perhaps not.
Perhaps they will just learn how the English hate the French, Germans and Argentineans. Maybe they will just learn the art of the tabloid headline, using irrelevant and archaic contexts to fuel racial hatred before certain international fixtures. Or they will see how the young Irish trainees at Plymouth Argyle were all called “Paddy” in an unintelligent attempt to make them feel like they belonged. Indeed they could hear the terrace taunts against Sol Campbell (which the FA did nothing about) or the hissing of the gas chambers at White Hart Lane. Maybe they will see how in English books and films the “paddy” is always the thick, drunken man with his fists in the air, or how the “jock” is the incomprehensible, tight-fisted redneck, or how the “taffy” is the dirty, uncultured farmer who lusts after his own livestock.
Or is that all “just a joke” too?
Do you think they found it funny in Marseille, and in Charleroi, and in Stuttgart, Bratislava and the Algarve when the hooliganism which has come to be synonymous with the English once more ruined a decent tournament? Do you think anybody laughed at the images of that poor Turkish man who found himself in the middle of a crowd of some five thousand baying hooligans in a normally peaceful German square?
Just watch any La Liga match and look at the banners with bulldogs on them and slogans in English, and ask yourself which nation provides the role models for hooligans.
That’s the problem with racists – they can never see the mote in their own eye.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Can we not cheer any more, either?
When I lived in Spain I was a season ticket-holder at Atlético de Madrid. The club is famous for its passionate fans, and the Vicente Calderón is widely regarded as having the best atmosphere in La Liga. However, the fans did have one annoying habit – they booed everybody and everything. They booed Torres for always falling over, Raúl for switching allegiance, and referee Díaz Vega just for being alive.
I made a conscious decision in my first match there not to join in the booing. I refused to be negative or jeer people who had more skill than me. I found it contrary to the spirit of the game. Who am I to boo anybody?
Yet during the England-Kazakhstan game, when the fans booed Ashley Cole, I didn’t notice. In fact it didn’t even impinge on my consciousness until the commentator started going on and on about the incident. I was more annoyed by his chuntering than the booing itself.
I was also following the game on live text, and to my amazement – and intense disappointment – the popular journalist in charge of the feed became the new Mary Whitehouse with more shocked hyperbole and a holier-than-thou tone.
So I had to ask myself, why am I more irritated about the reaction than about the incident itself?
WHO ARE YA?
The fans have been badly treated of late. In 2000, 2002 and 2004 England limped out of international competitions. In 2006 a pathetic showing at the World Cup was followed by offensive attempts to grab more cash by publishing mediocre autobiographies, a trend which has continued unchecked to the point where Jamie Carragher has published a book in which he admits what the rest don’t have the guts to – that country is secondary to club. Then England failed to qualify for Euro 2008 because the players (Beckham aside) couldn’t be bothered.
At the start of qualifying last month England scraped past Andorra. And now against an under-21 side hastily cobbled together from debutants and mid-table clubs, England need a foul on the keeper and an own goal to get started.
The spark shown against Croatia was apparently just to tease the fans. They are understandably frustrated.
STICKS AND STONES
The English are treated with disdain in Europe for many reasons – historical enmity, tabloid excess and the behaviour of drunken holiday-makers spring to mind. Yet perhaps the most obvious reason is the behaviour of the “fans” who follow England. Marseille 1998, Charleroi 2000, Bratislava 2002, Albufeira 2004, Stuttgart 2006, the list is endless.
At home monkey chanting and other racist taunts at West Ham, Spurs, Gillingham and Swansea have been allowed to develop into the shocking recent treatment of Sol Cambell.
Some would say it’s only the minority. By the same token, only the minority was booing Cole. And the point is, they didn’t attack anybody, make racist comments or demand to see him hanging from a tree. They just booed. Infinitely preferable to violence.
SUPERIORITY COMPLEX
We mustn’t forget that England fans have high expectations, although those expectations are grossly out of proportion to any evidence of greatness. England have won nothing since a referee-assisted World Cup over 40 years ago. Blind faith, fair enough, but the delusional idolatry of such obviously mediocre players as Gerrard, Barry, Lampard and Cole – watch the Kazakhstan game again, then compare to the Spanish Euro champions – is staggering in the extreme. Who do the fans think they’re kidding? In that sense I agree the booing was moronic in that it stems from expecting dressage from a donkey. But don’t discourage them from seeing the truth. Of course, they shouldn’t boo. They should just vote with their feet.
“JUST ONE MISTAKE - HE DIDN'T MEAN TO DO IT”
This is how many fans and journalists reacted. Funny that, it was different when Rob Stiles made just one mistake, with much less at stake too. Sorry, I forgot, there’s more cash involved in the Premier League.
SHOW ME THE MONEY!
Yes, you were wondering when this topic would rear its ugly head! Two hours after the England game had finished the Slovenian defender Komac made just one mistake and nearly gifted the unlucky Irish a goal. On the live text I was following, in a remarkable demonstration of tenacity (or is it just the inability to get over it?), we were asked if he would be booed too. Let’s see. Is Komac an arrogant, pampered millionaire whose behaviour shows a lack of respect for fans? Is he a person who shows nothing but disdain for his shirt and consequently for the fans and their meagre salaries? Then I imagine he will have been booed.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COIN
Much has also been made of the reaction shown when Beckham appeared, but instead of lauding the fans’ ability to quickly temper criticism with praise, the fans have been called fickle. Beckham is a player whose contribution has been demonstrated time and again – take Croatia last November. Cole isn’t.
If they’d only booed, then criticise. But booing and cheering are two sides of the same coin – it’s how you make your anonymous, disregarded (by the FA) feelings known in a big stadium.
SILENCE, PLEASE
There have been many recent articles on complaints about the restrictions placed on fans by the stewards in modern stadia, and many fans are demanding a return to terraces. There have also been articles, most noticeably this month in a leading British football magazine, about those who have just given up and now go abroad for their footballing kicks, because here you can’t drink, smoke, stand or shout.
And now you can’t boo.
Pretty soon you won’t even be able to cheer, either.
I made a conscious decision in my first match there not to join in the booing. I refused to be negative or jeer people who had more skill than me. I found it contrary to the spirit of the game. Who am I to boo anybody?
Yet during the England-Kazakhstan game, when the fans booed Ashley Cole, I didn’t notice. In fact it didn’t even impinge on my consciousness until the commentator started going on and on about the incident. I was more annoyed by his chuntering than the booing itself.
I was also following the game on live text, and to my amazement – and intense disappointment – the popular journalist in charge of the feed became the new Mary Whitehouse with more shocked hyperbole and a holier-than-thou tone.
So I had to ask myself, why am I more irritated about the reaction than about the incident itself?
WHO ARE YA?
The fans have been badly treated of late. In 2000, 2002 and 2004 England limped out of international competitions. In 2006 a pathetic showing at the World Cup was followed by offensive attempts to grab more cash by publishing mediocre autobiographies, a trend which has continued unchecked to the point where Jamie Carragher has published a book in which he admits what the rest don’t have the guts to – that country is secondary to club. Then England failed to qualify for Euro 2008 because the players (Beckham aside) couldn’t be bothered.
At the start of qualifying last month England scraped past Andorra. And now against an under-21 side hastily cobbled together from debutants and mid-table clubs, England need a foul on the keeper and an own goal to get started.
The spark shown against Croatia was apparently just to tease the fans. They are understandably frustrated.
STICKS AND STONES
The English are treated with disdain in Europe for many reasons – historical enmity, tabloid excess and the behaviour of drunken holiday-makers spring to mind. Yet perhaps the most obvious reason is the behaviour of the “fans” who follow England. Marseille 1998, Charleroi 2000, Bratislava 2002, Albufeira 2004, Stuttgart 2006, the list is endless.
At home monkey chanting and other racist taunts at West Ham, Spurs, Gillingham and Swansea have been allowed to develop into the shocking recent treatment of Sol Cambell.
Some would say it’s only the minority. By the same token, only the minority was booing Cole. And the point is, they didn’t attack anybody, make racist comments or demand to see him hanging from a tree. They just booed. Infinitely preferable to violence.
SUPERIORITY COMPLEX
We mustn’t forget that England fans have high expectations, although those expectations are grossly out of proportion to any evidence of greatness. England have won nothing since a referee-assisted World Cup over 40 years ago. Blind faith, fair enough, but the delusional idolatry of such obviously mediocre players as Gerrard, Barry, Lampard and Cole – watch the Kazakhstan game again, then compare to the Spanish Euro champions – is staggering in the extreme. Who do the fans think they’re kidding? In that sense I agree the booing was moronic in that it stems from expecting dressage from a donkey. But don’t discourage them from seeing the truth. Of course, they shouldn’t boo. They should just vote with their feet.
“JUST ONE MISTAKE - HE DIDN'T MEAN TO DO IT”
This is how many fans and journalists reacted. Funny that, it was different when Rob Stiles made just one mistake, with much less at stake too. Sorry, I forgot, there’s more cash involved in the Premier League.
SHOW ME THE MONEY!
Yes, you were wondering when this topic would rear its ugly head! Two hours after the England game had finished the Slovenian defender Komac made just one mistake and nearly gifted the unlucky Irish a goal. On the live text I was following, in a remarkable demonstration of tenacity (or is it just the inability to get over it?), we were asked if he would be booed too. Let’s see. Is Komac an arrogant, pampered millionaire whose behaviour shows a lack of respect for fans? Is he a person who shows nothing but disdain for his shirt and consequently for the fans and their meagre salaries? Then I imagine he will have been booed.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COIN
Much has also been made of the reaction shown when Beckham appeared, but instead of lauding the fans’ ability to quickly temper criticism with praise, the fans have been called fickle. Beckham is a player whose contribution has been demonstrated time and again – take Croatia last November. Cole isn’t.
If they’d only booed, then criticise. But booing and cheering are two sides of the same coin – it’s how you make your anonymous, disregarded (by the FA) feelings known in a big stadium.
SILENCE, PLEASE
There have been many recent articles on complaints about the restrictions placed on fans by the stewards in modern stadia, and many fans are demanding a return to terraces. There have also been articles, most noticeably this month in a leading British football magazine, about those who have just given up and now go abroad for their footballing kicks, because here you can’t drink, smoke, stand or shout.
And now you can’t boo.
Pretty soon you won’t even be able to cheer, either.
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