Mind The Gap

When I was a kid I was amazed by the London Underground.  My parents are avowed Anglophiles, so the rose-tinted glasses were on from the first trip to England. “What an amazing system is this tube?” I thought to myself, “best thing since sliced bread! Sherlock Holmes silhouettes on the walls of the Baker Street stop! And they even say 'mind the gap' when you step off! Wow! These people are incredible – they think of everything!”

Subsequent visits to London later on in life eventually exposed the tube for what it is: great concept and system when it works, but supported by an infrastructure that is quite dated to say the least (a Londoner once remarked to me that it's ‘even older than Australia’!). It’s also a service that’s costlier than an Arsenal season ticket, but incredibly, often breaks down in times of bad weather, which happens to be the rule rather than the exception.

I often smiled to myself whenever I heard tourists visiting London during the summer months remarking: 'we used the tube, it's great'. The reason for this was that so many regular commuters (mostly English) had shared a vastly different opinion with me. Eventually even the ‘mind the gap’ announcements seemed rather pointless. A brilliant stand-up comedian on tv once had me in stitches as he made fun of these 'mind the gap' announcements. He was a Yank plying his trade in London, and asked how someone could ever fall into the gap. I remember him ending his skit with the following warning: 'if you can't make it past the gap, then beware the world beyond'!

So anyway - when it comes to the tube, there’s clearly a gap between expectation and reality. One should be wary of falling into it. And when it comes to the English national team, many England fans repeatedly fall into the gap between their expectations and reality. As recently revealed by their latest couple of world cup games against Italy and Uruguay, England are not yet the world beaters that their army of fans expects them to be. The stark reality is that they haven’t been for a few decades now.

 

 

 

Entire books and treatises have been written about why England has fallen behind in the world game. It’s an interesting argument which can be discussed till the cows come home. My own view is that England usually have an outside chance of winning the tournament, but in Brazil they fluffed their lines because they got a bit ahead of themselves. Their previously untested formation of 4-2-3-1 was perhaps too bold a roll of the dice by Hodgson, and one which backfired. I think this system relied heavily on zonal marking, which England did not have the defensive personnel to implement against the likes of Balotelli and Suarez.

That said, a young Three Lions side lost by one goal to Italy, Europe’s most successful team in the tournament, and Uruguay who – lest we forget – are still reigning Copa America champions. England’s quality of passing was also some of the best I’ve seen since 1990, but now the usual witch hunt following their elimination has already begun, as the ‘prawn sandwich brigade’ (to borrow a phrase from Roy Keane) bay for the blood of a scapegoat and Fleet Street’s tabloids fan the frenzy to sell more of their rubbish newspapers.

And this time around, it seems that things have taken a new turn for the worse! An already terrible situation has hardly been helped by the actions – or should I say antics – of certain players who are obviously still ‘drinking the kool-aid’ (as the Aussies put it) i.e. believing the bull!  This week Wayne Rooney and Joe Hart both fell into the gap after the howling yobs, going before the camera to apologise to the English public for not making it to the second round.

They say that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. But as well intended as their apology might have been, this act was in my mind the absolute height of juvenile idiocy and a bottomless abyss of low farce. By clearly ignoring the gap between reality and expectation, Hart and Rooney have essentially invited further phlegm and outrage, since an apology means that you could have tried harder but didn’t. Someone please explain to them quick that although a player sometimes cannot do much about losing a game, there is much they can do about losing with dignity.

 

In a tone usually saved for funeral speeches, Joe Hart spluttered that he ‘can’t imagine the sacrifices some people have been through’ to watch England in Brazil.

What? Since when is going on holiday to Brazil to watch the world cup a sacrifice? Talk about a first world problem. In any case, who’s to say that many English fans didn’t head to England’s games to watch Italy or Uruguay instead?

And then Rooney - whilst wearing the contrite expression of a wayward teenager caught hiding a naughty magazine in his schoolbag - whimpers: ‘we’re sorry for not going through’, before Joe Hart goes on to add: ‘we can only apologise that we’re not going to take this country any further in the tournament’.

Which in turn implies that it was yours to lose, right? This smacks of the yob army’s arrogance, in that it disrespects other nations who are also trying to win the cup! How much more dignified in victory were the post-match remarks of Uruguay’s manager - that wily old fox Tabarez - who said that England do not in fact have any weaknesses, and that it is the most negligible of details that decide these encounters. Look and learn from the man, boys!

Instead of providing any closure, all this apology has done is present the swooping vultures with more questions. Why didn’t Gerrard apologise on behalf of the team? Isn’t he the captain? Are there divisions in the camp? Was a vote taken to choose Rooney and Hart? Or were they chosen because they look like Laurel and Hardy? Were straws drawn in the dressing room to decide the apologists? Or did England play spin the bottle?

 

If this was the idea of some PR Consultant in the employ of the FA, then he or she should be sacked on the spot. And it is to be hoped that the idea was not Hodgson’s, although I doubt it. His reaction to defeat was in fact quite adequate, since he did not express any regret for sticking to his philosophy of a neat passing game, which if nothing else made England’s play easy on the neutral’s eye for the first time in ages.

 

 

 

Well, whoever’s idea it was, the damage has now been done. Hart and Rooney have gone ahead and justified the rants of the great unwashed, who constantly claim that pampered stars don’t really try hard enough, and don’t have enough passion to play for their country even though they are paid so incredibly well by their clubs. They have also risked setting a dangerous precedent.

Do English players now have to apologise each time they get knocked out of a finals? How they must look with envy at their British neighbours north of the border! Scotland haven’t qualified for a tournament since ’98, yet they haven’t had to apologise once. And for that matter, nor should Rooney and Hart. They have both been great servants for club and country, and if I were on 1% of their respective salaries I’d have quit the 3 Lions long ago, rather than cop all the stick and the kickings that they get each time they step into a major tournament wearing an England shirt.

Instead, they have incredibly gone on to undermine the calm and consistent approach that the FA is presently seeking to implement, which is one that should have been taken long ago instead of going down the ‘quick fix’ route of appointing foreign alchemists like an Eriksson or a Capello, paying them bumper salaries to try and turn lead into gold. And in truth, does the FA really have any choice? Which English manager could replace Hodgson effectively? Sherwood?! Redknapp (who’s already gone and stuck the knife in)? Bruce? Give me a break. Hodgson is the most accomplished of the lot and has no heir elect in sight. And neither do the much maligned Gerrard, Hart and Rooney.

This week Rooney also called for the England team to become more streetwise and ‘nasty’ to start winning again. But on this latest showing, if Rooney and his team mates cannot even mind the gap, then then they had best beware the big bad world beyond.

 

 

 

Maverick

Popular opinion has pronounced Spain dead, finished and buried. Iberians might as well pack their bags and go home rather than endure the humiliating first round exit also shared by previous champions France in 2002 and Italy in 2010.

 

No other fate appears to beckon Del Bosque’s side, and indeed I cannot recall a single defending champion that suffered such a spectacular drubbing in their opening game. And if that weren’t bad enough, there’s Chile’s best side ever waiting in the wings with wind in their sails and the smell of blood in their nostrils.

 

At the moment, Spain look about as likely to emerge alive from their encounter with the South Americans as Superman from a coffin made out of kryptonite.

 

It seems to me that it’s during desperate times like these that a struggling champion might need to turn into a bit of a maverick. Forget all this tiki-taka nonsense - Spain need to get down and dirty, gritty even, and employ every last trick in the book. And if they’re looking for inspiration, they need look no further than Argentina in 1990.

 

They say ‘comparison is the thief of joy’ but as so often proven in football, there is an exception to almost every proclaimed nugget of wisdom out there. Del Bosque had best pull out the history books fast, and seek to inspire his team with past world cup replays on the big screen.

 

In 1990 Italy hosted the world cup, which was to be defended by Argentina. The albiceleste were reigning champions, and ended their showcase opening game with a humiliating 1-0 defeat to no-hopers Cameroon. Believe it or not, Cameroon had openly declared before kick off that they were not scared of Argentina, and in truth they had little reason to be.

 

In his autobiography, Maradona goes to great lengths to describe the wretched physical condition of Argentina’s side before a ball had even been kicked. A number of the winning  ’86 team had been withdrawn through injury, and El Pibe d’Oro himself had toe damage which caused him mind-splitting agony. Before long he was soon also nursing bad knee and ankle injuries, after Cameroon had kicked him almost as much as the football.

 

Things hardly looked up, since their next game was against the USSR. Before I hear anymore sniggers at the back of the classroom, please note that the Soviets were expected to go very far in the tournament, having only lost the European Championship two years earlier to the Netherlands by conceding the best (and most impossible) goal ever witnessed, courtesy of Marco Van Basten. It was a must-win for Argentina against seemingly impossible odds.

 

The omens hardly improved as the game got underway, when first choice Argie keeper Nery Pumpido cracked his leg in half. He was replaced by Sergio Goycochea, a Buenos Aires 26 year old, who had arrived in Italy expecting to warm the bench. As it happened, it was to pro

Argentina were up against it, with Maradona limping around the field on one leg and shouting at his men to rally like some latter-day Long John Silver. Most people have now forgotten it, but he even had the cheek to pull off another lesser known ‘hand of God’ early on in the game, denying a certain USSR goal on the line and proving that the ref was blind.

 

An unlikely Troglio header then put the Argies ahead, before Troglio was fouled in the second half. The Soviet defenders waited for a whistle by the ref which never came, as a grateful Burruchaga pounced on the ball and tucked it away. Maradona’s miscreants had pulled off another minor miracle, but as desperate as they were to beat Romania in their final game, a dire 1-1 draw was played out with the Eastern Europeans.

 

This meant a clash of the titans against Brazil (who ironically could yet also prove Spain’s second round opponents at this year’s world cup), although the form of both teams going into the match could not have been more different. Brazil had won three out of three in their group, qualifying as undisputed leaders, whilst the Argies had crept through the back door as one of the four best third-placed sides, mainly due to their undeserved victory against the USSR.

 

No one gave them a prayer, and for an hour wave upon wave of Brazilian attacks pegged back the albiceleste, with the selecao repeatedly denied by the post, poor finishing and a growing Goyco in goal. In the last minutes of the game, Maradona limped forward with the ball, and as four Brazilians closed in on him like a vice, he surprised them with a little sprint, before squeaking a small pass towards his onrushing sidekick Cani’ (Caniggia), who chipped the ball past a despairing Taffarel.

 

Incredibly Argentina had pulled off the impossible once more, setting up a quarter against Yugoslavia. It was probably the albiceleste’s best match of the tournament, yet they could find no way past their opponents. The game came down to penalty kicks, and the long-suffering Diego fluffed his, as did Troglio. Surely now the Argies were on their way to the plane.

 

El Goyco jokingly told Maradona not to worry, saying that he would save the next two penalties. And he did! Once more the cliffhanger continued, although even those Argentina fans who had not yet died of a heart attack knew that Argentina would surely end their unlikely run against Italy in the semi. Unlike Maradona’s miscreants, hosts Italy had had a perfect run in the tournament, having won every single game in regular time without conceding a single goal. It was David vs Goliath, and when I think of Italy’s unbelievable defenders now (Baresi, Bergomi, Ferrara, Maldini, Vierchowod) I get a lump in my throat. 

 

It appeared to be business as usual for Italy, as Schillaci got a goal after 17 minutes. Losing was unthinkable for them, but somehow the Argies held firm and kept the Italians at bay. After almost an hour it was expected that Italy would manage to wind the clock down as they had done so well throughout the tournament. Then the unthinkable happened when Caniggia glanced a header from a cross past the onrushing Zenga. Italy had conceded their first goal, and were stunned and reeling as the game wore on.

 

Then things looked up for the hosts, as one of Argentina’s men was sent off, and in extra time El Goyco pulled off a stunning save from a Baggio free-kick. Yet despite the incredible amount of injury time in extra time (one half had eight minutes added on!) some desperate defending, playacting and time-wasting kept the Argies going until penalties. El Goyco stepped up again and saved two, breaking Italy’s heart as Maradona’s mavericks found themselves in the final.

Argentina had few friends or admirers left as they headed into their last game, for England were still bitter and twisted about their own ‘hand of God’ at the last world cup in ‘86, and the USSR had also just suffered one. Brazil were still furious about their second round exit, and Italy was still too devastated to even talk about what had just befallen them in the semi. Germany also had a score to settle after losing the last world cup final to the Argies, and before kick off the boos for Argentina in the stadium were so loud that you could not even hear their national anthem.

 

The albiceleste were worn out after their game with Italy, and were running out of tricks as not one but two of their players were sent off in the final. Incredibly, it was the referee who decided the bad-tempered encounter. After denying Argentina a legitimate shout for a penalty, he went on to award a non-existent one to the Germans. El Goyco nearly got his fingers to it, but the luck of the mavericks had run dry. Although Argentina lost the cup and friends the world over, they were given a hero’s welcome upon their return home.

 

This history lesson only serves to indicate that Spain still have it all to play for against Chile, regardless of the setbacks, injuries and the lousy form of their first keeper. All they need is for the world’s best player to never give in, and in my view this is still Andres Iniesta, regardless of the spotlight which always falls on Messi and Ronaldo. The 90 mins against Chile will prove a sizzling encounter, and it remains to be seen whether Spain regain their old form, crash out at the group stage, or wing it like el Diego’s mavericks did during one Italian summer in 1990.
 

 

No Business Like Show Business

Ah, THE World Cup. That bloody World Cup.

Transports both fans and players straight into Never-never land, that place where legends are born that shall never die.

But what’s the whole point of the World Cup?

“To determine the best team on the planet”

Rubbish.

To determine the best team in the final more like it, or the one that held its nerve during penalties, as Italy did in '06.

Whatever they tell you about best or worst players, whatever statistics they pull out, whatever history they all point back to, don’t believe them folks because it doesn’t mean jack:

It’s ALL a show.

How many times have we heard it all before: France are host nation in ’98, with not a chance to win the damned thing in their own back yard, for the French have never won it before, and they’ve got no strikers see? And champions Brazil are too good – why, they’ve even got Ronaldo! Besides,
France coach Aime Jacquet doesn’t know what he’s doing!

But did France have any good strikers at the time? Guivarc’h was meant to be great but I doubt anyone remembers him now except for me and his mom. Top scorer in Ligue 1, but not a goal scored throughout the tournament. Trezeguet and Henry were still babies at the time, although they bagged four in the group stage. Veteran genius Dugarry stepped on and scored in the first game before being carried off injured, and only turned up again in the final. A final France won: 3-0 AGAINST BRAZIL!

Roll on to the next world cup in ’02, with France now reigning world champions AND are also the champagne champs of Euro 2000. Certainly it’s theirs to lose? Certainly is: they lose to Senegal (WHO?!!!) in opening match before crashing out in the group stage! How can it be? They were phenomenal on paper!

Is anyone now predicting that the same thing will happen to Spain? Of course not: “they may be a little bit old” say the more cautious amongst us, including me. And surely they’ll make mincemeat of Australia, is the general opinion. But can we really rule them out of the running? No. Can they possibly crash out in the group stage? Who knows - but would it surprise me? No!

That’s the point: it’s all a show! And better still: it’s not scripted either!

We can probably all point to countless other examples were the experts were made to look like dummies and the clueless punters made to look like experts.  The ball is round, it’s a game of flipper, and surely that’s why we watch it.

‘But wait!’ I hear the purists amongst you shouting in the background, ‘there surely must be some merit as to who places first? Surely they deserved it!’

As Clint Eastwood's protagonist hisses at the end his masterpiece ‘Unforgiven’:

‘Deserve’s got nothing to do with it’ Boom!

Then why do we watch it?

I know why I watch it. The greatest bloody show on earth: mind-blowing feast of various nations and peoples, a celebration of the most democratic of sports known to mankind, and – in my most unbiased opinion – the most beautiful spectacle created by man – bar none.

Ah, THE World cup. That bloody World Cup.

Elusive little beauty isn’t it?