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‘We are not a selling club’

How often did we hear managers saying that? Thank God we don’t hear it anymore, since it rings more hollow than a tin can. Because everyone knows that there’s only three clubs in world football that can really say it. And they don’t even bother doing so, since their exalted position is so bleedingly obvious.

And much as grey-haired romantics might remind us of the earliest days in the sport’s competitions, when all teams were ‘in it to win it’, the stark truth is that in the last few decades football clubs have always been divided into spenders and sellers. After all it’s economic reality which dictates everything, and the white hot popularity of football has turned the beautiful game into an industry in which the players are but the tip of the iceberg. And like all other industries, including publishing, finance etc, it’s an ever decreasing clutch of entities that are calling the shots.

When I was a kid it was the Italian clubs that were the big spenders, and who completely dominated the football scene. Back then clubs could only field three foreign players, whose first destination of choice was the Serie A, and then maybe Real Madrid or Barcelona. The likes of Bayern Munich were left to trawl far flung destinations like Iran to have any hope of recruiting any decent foreign talent, and England was not even considered a plausible destination for non-British players, unless you were Irish, Scandinavian or Andrei Kanchelskis.

This meant the lowly likes of Genoa boasting foreign stars of the calibre of Czech ace Tomas Skuhravy, or an also-ran like Torino being graced by the presence of Belgian genius Enzo Scifo. These guys would rather play with smaller Italian sides than win the league year after year in their own country, since the mere fact that you played in the Serie A was a privilege in itself.

The Italian league was quite simply a jaw-dropping congregation of world-class talent, but my oh my how times have changed, as evidenced by Gonzalo Higuain’s hysterical tears after Napoli were kicked out of this year’s UEFA Champions League (UCL) in a qualifier against Bilbao. It’s the first time in seven years that poor Gonzalo hasn’t played in the UCL. And for all the recent heart-warming talk of him being Maradona’s heir at the San Paolo, expect him to race to the exit door come January, as Napoli revert to their more familiar state of total implosion.

 

 

The Serie A has now gone from a ‘hard fought’ league to a ‘hard fourth’ league, trailing La Liga, Bundesliga and the English Premier League (EPL). Spain’s two top clubs and Germany’s top club are now the ultimate destination of choice, and find themselves the three at the top of the tree in the football hierarchy. They’re closely followed by a second rung of ‘wannabe’ sides backed by rich owners, who exclusively consist of Man City, Chelsea and PSG.

In the third category you’ll find the EPL’s four remaining top sides, and then there’s the fourth and last category of ‘the rest’. This latter class generally consist of well located shop windows for the sides above them, besides being sparring partners in the early rounds of European competition.

Each transfer window constitutes further proof of my theory. It’s why Roma’s Benatia had his head turned by Manchester City, before dropping them like a hot log upon realising that Bayern Munich wanted him to replace the newly crocked Badstuber. Or why the likes of Willian and Salah were on their way to either Tottenham or Liverpool before hearing that Chelsea were interested in their services. Sadly, it also means that the likes of Shaqiri would rather warm the bench in Munich then turn out for Liverpool’s first team.

So with this ever shrinking pool of big hitters, is there even any point in watching the second round of this week’s UCL group stage?

Fortunately football, like any other sport, is in a state of constant flux, with an eternal supply of young bloods in the wings ready to keep established stars honest and on their toes. Regular qualification for the UCL also means a guaranteed flood of money, which helps ensure that some of ‘the rest’ (if going on an extended run of back to back titles in their own domestic league), can make enough dosh to keep a decent and unchanged core of players in their side for a number of seasons.

An unexpected influx of talented youth might also help a ‘selling club’ to go an unexpected distance in European competition. Not to mention canny operating on the transfer market coupled with excellent management, which might help create a side like last year’s Spanish champions Atletico Madrid. A side that can reign supreme for a season, until their team is picked apart by higher spenders during the summer.

All of this helps to make the group stage of the UCL resemble something of a contest, a contest that both EPL and Serie A sides will be keen to rip up in their eternal quest to further progress in the UCL and inch ever closer towards the class above them in the football tree.

 

 

 

And after their narrow loss to Bayern Munich, Manchester City will be desperate to put in a great showing against Roma, in a tie that promises to be the second round’s most mouth-watering fixture, at least after PSG-Barca and Atletico-Juve. Both teams have arguably also been their domestic champions in the last transfer window, with astute signings secured on both sides. The pressure on both teams is such that their managers have quickly sought to dispel it, with the wily Garcia claiming that all of the pressure is on City, whose coach Pellegrini has claimed that the UCL is not the most important thing to win.

This is all absolute hogwash of course, since Pellegrini knows that further progress will be required in Europe this year to further strengthen his position in the eyes of City’s owners, and that the league title alone will not suffice. On his part Garcia would give his right arm for the Italian league right now, as his side run neck and neck with Juventus at the top of the Serie A table. But it’s all to play for really, and after Mangala’s poor outing against Hull City, City must now wish they’d signed up Benatia from Roma, before he was snapped up by Bayern Munich.

Roma have been quick to adequately replace the Moroccan ace in their back line, but will suffer because of some absences in their first team. City’s Fernandinho has already declared that defenders are going to prove crucial to this tie, and expect an in form Edin Dzeko to ask serious questions of the new Roman backline.

Arsenal are another English side desperate to put their recent loss to German opposition behind them, in the form of Borussia Dortmund. Redemption will be sought against a Galatasaray side whose squad suffered no significant loss of personnel over the summer, and which was quietly strengthened by new manager Cesare Prandelli. The Turks pride themselves on regularly making it through the group stage, and their tie with the Gunners will evoke memories of that famous UEFA Cup final in 2000, when they became the first and last Turkish side to get their hands on European silverware.

As for Wenger’s men, does anyone really care anymore? Arsenal are a side that I find doomed to be eternally boring. When not churning out dull 1-0 wins during their now distant George Graham days, they found revival under Wenger, with a side as full of charm as a forensic laboratory that’s just been sterilised. Players like Overmars, Bergkamp and Henry wowed us with their skill but little else, and had a personality about as exciting as watching paint dry. Except for their distant run to the final in 2006, the Gunners seem to linger about the UCL like a faint smell of disinfectant, for Wenger is nothing if not boringly conservative with his decisions.

It appears that star signing Alexis Sanchez is already getting up the French manager's nose because of his brilliant unpredictability, and expect a minor revolt at the Emirates if the Chilean is benched like he was during last weekend's London derby. As much as the open-handed spending of rich owners can get up my nose, Arsenal are seriously the other extreme, a team that never over exposes itself financially whilst making huge profits each year. Already short of holding midfielders and fit strikers, it’s left to their attacking midfielders to get them out of jail, and expect plenty of post-match talk about how this could be their year. It's seriously time for the Arse to find a new manager!

 

 

Chelsea is the English side who fared least badly against German opposition, managing a 1-1 draw at home against Schalke. Mourinho is constantly erring on the side of caution this year, so desperate is he to secure a trophy after an unnervingly barren couple of years. His memories of Sporting and Bobby Robson might be warm, but there will be no quarter given to his old employers, whose defence has lost both Dier and Rojo to EPL sides.

I expect Mourinho to go for broke in this game, and he has already declared that he will throw the injured Costa into the fray. Nani will play out of his skin for the Portuguese side, at Manchester United’s expense, but Mourinho would have done his homework on this tie, working the phone to his dad and other contacts back home to identify weaknesses in the Lisbon side, who will find it difficult to get through a solid Chelsea defence.

Juventus is the second Serie A side still in the mix, and managed the business comfortably against Malmo. Yet their game away to Atletico is going to prove a real test of how far they have come. Allegri has had them sprinting out of the blocks to the top of the Serie A, but Simeone’s side are showing daunting signs of revival, with the wily Argentinean filling in for departed players very well. On their part it is a sign of how low Juventus have sunk in world football that their holding onto midfielders Vidal and Pogba was widely heralded like some major coup.

They must be thanking their lucky stars that Manchester United did not make it to the UCL this year, whilst quietly reinforcing their ranks with players who are full of potential but who might not yet light up the highest club stage. In the circumstances a draw for the Old Lady of Italian football would prove a very positive result, whilst a win against Atletico would be simply amazing.

Last side under review are Liverpool, who got remarkably far in the EPL on a three cylinder engine last season, before being pipped at the post. Having lost his most important cylinder over the summer in Suarez, Rodgers has since sought to build a five cylinder engine which can manage the added racecourse of the UCL. Extra width has been added in defence and midfield, but with the influx of new players it was always going to take time to gel.

After their sluggish start to the season, many have been quick to dismiss the Reds out of hand, a view given added weight because of their years spent in the wilderness. Their latest game, a derby draw at home to Everton, was also a disappointing result, as much as Jagielka’s stunning equaliser was hard to prevent.

But it might also prove the start of a turnaround. Their defence is coming together, although the synapses in midfield and attack are still to spark effectively. If they do, Markovic’s famous speed could mean opposing defenders having to face the equivalent of another Sterling running at them. Meanwhile Balotelli's positional discipline and resistance to intense provocation is as welcome as it is baffling, but has it taken some of the spark away from his game? There’s no saying what’s going to happen to the Reds this term, for this really is unchartered territory for them.

And reading their opponent will be the main quandary for an FC Basel side that will be strong and organised at home, determined to keep their fan’s enthusiasm up with plans for their stadium to be expanded. They are a side who have of late beaten Bayern at home, and have also managed to keep their squad intact, with a few more additions to their playing staff and the appointment of Paulo Sousa as manager.

Something is telling me though - and it might just be sentiment - that after their improved showing in their last league outing, a couple of unexpected counter attacks from Liverpool might help the famous Reds to pip this one.

But hey, it shouldn’t be that hard to manage against a side with a mere fraction of your spending budget!
 

 

 

 

 

 

Winning Chip

We were crammed into a small classroom at the University of Sydney in Camperdown. Our tutor was vigorously trying to make a point as he huffed and puffed through his bushy white whiskers. I could not help thinking, as I looked at him, that he could so easily have passed for a brickie on a building site. Yet this was far from your everyday hod carrier, for our mentor was none other than the award-winning Australian writer Terry Dowling, a close peer of the late Jack Vance.

Terry was leading a workshop on fantasy writing, and desperately trying to impress upon us the importance of getting words down on the page.  I can’t remember the precise wording of his plea now, but he was basically saying that our source of inspiration didn’t matter, so long as the blank page was filled with words. The motivation behind our writing could be passion, it could be ambition, it could be a need or desire for money, it could be trying to prove people wrong, or it could even simply be about trying to impress a chick you fancied. It didn’t matter, so long as the words went down on the page.

I’ve often thought about this, when wondering what part the Yin and the Yang play in a person’s source of motivation. And I guess it is true that some of the most ‘successful’ people in life don’t always have the most positive sentiments as their driver. All too often have we heard about greed being the main fuel for rampant capitalist achievement, but there’s definitely other spurs too. One of which might be the need to feel accepted, in order to disprove the fact that you’re not good enough.

 

 

It’s often something as simple as this which fires a person up to reach lofty heights. This is certainly true of football, which brings us to Mr Chippy himself.

 

The myth goes something like this. Jose Mourinho's dream - like zillions of other boys - was to make the grade as a successful professional football player. But he never quite cut the mustard, languishing with poor sides in lower divisions until his career fizzled away. How distraught he must have been, to fall short of his old man's standards. For Mourinho Snr was a former goalkeeper who had graced the Portuguese top flight, and even went on to earn a cap for Portugal.

So Jose was hardly a chip of the old block, but wait! His pops Felix had also made it as a manager, so some form of face saving in his father’s eyes (or at least in young Jose's own mind) was still achievable. Armed with this burning chip on his shoulder, Jose plunged into Physical Education and football management, punching for the stars.

And how he soared!

 

 

I first recall him prowling the touchline in the UEFA cup final of 2003. It was the year in which he first got his hands on European silverware, as his Porto outwitted Martin O’Neill’s excellent Celtic side (probably the last great Scottish side to grace Europe) to win the UEFA Cup. His Dragons went on to win the Champions League the following year, a remarkable feat which boosted his profile as Jose became famous for his exuberant celebrations whenever his side scored, which included sliding on his knees across the turf in his dapper suits to express his delight (and that of his drycleaner).

Joining Chelsea changed both his fortunes and those of the London club forever. Overall he splashed the Russian petrodollars wisely, winning back to back leagues and smashing the Ferguson-Wenger stranglehold on the EPL. It was then that he first started to get a bit cocky, picking up an unfortunate tendency to constantly goad and diss his fellow managers. It was ok to do so as long as he kept on winning, and win he did at an alarming rate, securing back to back titles at Stamford Bridge. After falling out with Chelsea president Abrahmovich amid the whole Shevchenko saga, he was hired by Inter Milan.

He instantly secured the scudetto, then spent even more Italian petrodollars the following summer. After landing five guns in Eto’o, Motta, Milito, Lucio and Sneijder during the transfer window, he went on to clinch the treble, thereby fulfilling president Massimo Moratti’s boyhood dream of winning the European Cup. During his two years at Inter Milan his added trophies further encouraged his tendency to publicly rubbish other managers, with his relentless baiting of Roma’s Claudio Ranieri (who he instantly branded ‘zeru tituli’) even disturbing neutrals like me.

 

 

This high handed attitude seemed to go hand in hand with his manic celebrations whenever his side prevailed, before literally going into overdrive when he accepted the offer of Real Madrid President Florentino Perez.

At the time Mourinho appeared invincible, and many shuddered to think what he might achieve with the Merengues. Yet he had suddenly found himself in a court possessed of more cloak and dagger intrigue than an episode of the Borgias. He also had to contend with the small challenge of Guardiola’s Barcelona, the best club side the world had ever seen. When faced with these immense challenges the chip on his shoulder burned worse than before, and in a moment of madness he made the whole of Spain shudder as he poked the late Tito Vilanova in the eye.

It was always going to take time to entrench himself as the main man at the Bernabeu, but for a time he seemed to be winning. During his first year he secured the King’s Cup against Guardiola’s men, and also prevailed in his internal feud with Maradona’s old mate, the sporting director Jorge Valdano. In his second season he went on to clinch La Liga, and it seemed that he was destined to conquer Europe with Madrid. Yet La Decima remained elusive, and his third season with the club was disrupted by a dressing room rebellion of seismic proportions, in which Jose’s Portuguese compatriots also turned on him.

 

 

Few could have foreseen this vicious uprising led by Casillas and Ramos, which saw him hit a brick wall for the first time in his career. Besides finding himself surplus to requirements, he had also ended a season empty handed after nine uninterrupted years spent securing winners’ medals. For the first time he appeared somewhat shaken. Three years at the Bernabeu had left him leaner than a sundried fishbone, and his hair was whiter than a freshly pressed Madrid shirt.

Salt was promptly added to the wound when Manchester United ignored his years of overtures to appoint David Moyes as their new manager. On his part Jose did his best to pretend that this didn’t matter, immediately accepting Abrahmovich’s offer to return to Chelsea. They say that one should never go back, and during his first season with the Londoners silverware eluded him one more time.

Mourinho attempted to play this down, claiming that his side were ‘babies’ last year, and that it would take a season to get them ready to become EPL pretenders. Yet the cracks had already started to appear, as evidenced by his toe-curling tirade at Arsene Wenger, branding the Frenchman a ‘specialist in failure’ after the Arsenal coach had said that Mou was afraid to admit that Chelsea were genuine title contenders because he was afraid of failure.

Wenger ironically went on to break his eight year trophyless streak, securing the FA Cup against Hull City whilst Jose went a second year without winning anything. And although you might get away with slagging people off when you’re winning, it’s an entirely different kettle of fish to do so when you’re not. Jose knows this, and the chip that once made him a winner might now be starting to weigh him down a little bit.

His rant about Manuel Pellegrini earlier this week might hint at this, with Jose dismissively referring to the Chilean manager of Manchester City as ‘Mr Pellegrino’, as if he was ignorant to the identity of the manager whom he brutally displaced at Real Madrid.

Mou’s nervousness is understandable, for the vultures have started to circle more closely. His former charge Samuel Eto’o has openly referred to him as a ‘fool’ and a ‘puppet’, and this verbal roasting was recently followed by the publication of a book by his old rival Valdano, who wrote that he’d ‘never heard in public or in private a football statement from Mourinho worthy to be remembered’.

 

 

Ironically enough, Manuel Pellegrini does have the cast of a vulture about him, although he is by all accounts one of the good guys in football, loved by his players and supporters alike. He is also said to be one of the gentlemen in world football, renowned for always keeping his calm and never engaging in cheap swipes. Which make his remarks about Chelsea playing like a ‘small club’ all the more remarkable. It seems that even Pellegrini is smelling blood, and resorting to sticking the knife in whilst he can.

All of which makes this year all the more crucial for Mourinho to land some form of silveware. Jose has often deflected criticisms of himself onto others, once describing his desire to win the Champions League as a ‘dream' and not the 'obsession’ held by Guardiola's Barca.  Further proof, if any were needed, that besides being combative, Mou remains an expert at publicly thrusting his weaknesses onto others.

As his Chelsea side prepare to face high-flying Aston Villa this weekend, the significance of this season will not be lost on him. Jose knows that his career is slowly - and unbelievably - coming under the microscope. Three years without a trophy does not bear contemplating, especially given the summer’s outlay on the likes of Costa and Fabregas.

I would not bet on him going another season empty-handed, since it would be foolhardy to underestimate his winning chip. But if Jose’s outing against Paul Lambert’s Villans proves to be a banana skin to Chelsea’s title hopes, expect perfect silence to fall across the room when the press ask Jose about the Villa manager’s post-match comments.

 

 

Lucky Strike

Lightning never strikes twice, or does it? Most football stars are unique, so that it’s usually impossible for one player to step seamlessly into the shoes of another. But it can happen. I’m trying to think of examples, and the first thought that springs to mind is that of Dalglish replacing Keegan during Liverpool’s glory years. Incredibly, it can also happen three times in a row, and I’m thinking Costa stepping into the shoes of Falcao at Atletico Madrid, after the Colombian had filled those of Forlan, who had perfectly stepped in for Torres. Hold on, that’s actually four times isn’t it?

Yet these seamless transitions are generally the exception and not the rule. After all, it takes a bit of time to repeat a winning cycle with a different set of players after one has just ended. Best thing you could probably do, once the cycle is over, is tear out the old spine and freshen things up. Just like Barca have done. It’s not necessarily going to work overnight, but it’s better than clinging to the tried and trusted for years on end for nothing.

AC Milan had an irritating habit of clinging to also-rans for too long, holding onto a player well past their sell by date. One department they have managed to replenish successfully, however, is that of the midfield anchorman.

 

Ours is a celebrity-obsessed age, where fresh-faced pin-up boys like Messi and Ronaldo take up all the limelight. I guess there’s nothing glitzier than a goal-getting, zippy forward, and the kids and girls go nuts for them. But give me a grizzled, word-weary destroyer anytime, one who’d rather do his dirty work in the shadows, with the occasional goal to remind us that he can play too. I’m thinking the likes of Vieira , Deschamps, Keane, Davids, Makelele, Cambiasso and - last but certainly not least - the modern day phenomenon that is Yaya Toure.

Many of today’s football managers often bemoan the paucity of world class strikers and central defenders. But I think that a world class midfield enforcer has become an even rarer species. Despite finally having the cash to splash, Arsene Wenger still finds himself restricted to the dubious choice between Flamini and Arteta, whilst Van Gaal would probably give his kingdom for a world class workhorse right now to shore up his side, given that Manyoo’s centre of midfield is still pure mush.

Sir Alex Ferguson once said that ‘the game is won in midfield’ at the highest level, and I couldn’t agree more. And midfield ball-winners are crucial to this, since they are the engine room which props up the fancy float. In fact I’d go as far as to say that I can tell a great side from the chaff by their midfield enforcer.

 

The most famous exponents of this role are always tremendous athletic specimens, who can also dabble in the dark arts whenever this is required. A bit of stamping on a tall player’s foot the moment the cross is taken, taking out the nippy striker early in the game to clip his wings a bit, harrying the temperamental winger so that he gets sent off, etc etc. Graeme Souness was a fine embodiment of this ruthless streak, and his handiwork when ‘looking after himself’ was simply jaw-dropping. Sir Alex Ferguson coached Souey when the former was Scotland manager, and said of him in his autobiography: ‘he could be cruel’.

Coming from a tough nut like Ferguson, that really says it all. But it is true that players were afraid to even get close to Souness, let alone take him on. This was partly the reason for Liverpool’s rampant success of the late 70s to mid-80s, but they also profited from Souey’s great leadership and quality. Which is why the ‘tigerish’ (to say the least) Scot was snapped up by Sampdoria in the Serie A - then the best league in the world - and played a big part in helping the blucerchiati to become a top side in both Italy and Europe.

People say that today’s footballers are no longer as tough as Souey’s generation. This is understandable when you think that most fans are bombarded daily with fresh-faced pics of metrosexuals like Beckham, Cristiano Ronaldo and Mario Gotze. But the great tradition of midfield hardmen has hardly been broken, with the likes of Davids and Gattuso firing up the Serie A in the noughties, and the Premiership dominated by the likes of Keane, Vieira, Makelele and Steven Gerrard.
 

The A-League also had its own hardmen, with the most infamous amongst them being Kevin Muscat. Never one to shy away from brutality, he made world headlines during his Socceroos days for a horrible, career-ending tackle on France’s Christophe Dugarry. After retiring from Australia, Muscat’s cruelty brought his glittering Australian club career to a premature end, when he hurled himself into the air with all studs up, all but ending the career of high-flying 20 year old and fellow Maltese-Australian Adrian Zahra (who subsequently required knee surgery and now plays with Maltese club Valletta, where he is not even first choice).

So it’s clear that these nutters are never confined to a single nation, although of late Holland appears to be the producer of the best exponents. The now retired Mark Van Bommel was the last great midfield destroyer, and he was pure filth on the pitch, resorting to anything to give his side the advantage. The first non-German to captain Bayern Munich (a Dutchman?!), MVB was a veteran of the ‘battle of Nuremberg’ which was fought (more than played) between Portugal and the Netherlands at the 2006 world cup in Germany, where the referee issued four red cards and sixteen yellows.

MVB somehow managed to earn a yellow in the eighth minute, signalling that the game wasn’t going to be a meeting of dainty feet. An injured Cristiano Ronaldo in fact left the field in tears, afterwards claiming that a Dutch defender had fully intended to injure him. Yet the most amazing thing about the ‘game’ was that MVB managed to avoid being sent off until he was substituted on the hour! All throughout his career, it was a feat that he managed time and time again, constantly committing the unspeakable and yet still managing to avoid being sent off. His audacity was quite something, and there’s also available footage of him pinching the privates of another player right under the nose of the referee, and still managing to escape sanction.
 

He was a fierce competitor and a huge athletic specimen, which is why Galliani was so desperate to bring him to AC Milan when Gattuso kept on breaking down to injury. In the first year that MVB joined them, AC Milan managed to win the their last scudetto, and following another season with them they offered him an extension, although he was already 35 years old. Despite his love for AC Milan, MVB moved back to Holland for family reasons, spending one last year with PSV, and was incredibly sent off during his last game.

But Milan were quick to secure an able deputy for MVB following his departure. Who was none other than his little sidekick in the Dutch national side’s midfield. Step forward Nigel de Jong, also a fearsome competitor and midfield anchorman, who has admirably filled the shoes of his evil mentor, and proved to be full of pace and strength in the tackle. He is also no retiring wallflower when it comes to cold-heartedness, as evidenced by his infamous ‘kung fu’ strike on Xabi Alonso at the 2010 world cup final, which left fans worldwide stunned by his luck at not being sent off.

Roll on four years, and de Jong is now a glorious veteran of the Dutch national side that reached the semis in Brazil 2014. He’s also the kingpin in Inzaghi’s midfield at AC Milan, following a summer of transfer speculation in which Man United’s new manager Van Gaal (who was Holland’s manager in Brazil) must have been desperate to reunite with NdJ at United, despite all the headlines about Juve’s Vidal and Pogba. Holding onto de Jong was probably AC Milan’s best business of the summer, and there is already talk of them offering him a new contract (which is a sign of immense estimation when you consider how stingy the club has become).

 

Following his last outing against Parma (where NdJ was a constant point of reference in AC’s midfield and chipped in with a coolly taken strike) you can be sure that the chequebook will already be waving in his agent’s face. And whilst Milan desperately seeks to shore up its woeful backline (they narrowly beat Parma 5-4, albeit away), head coach Inzaghi will at least be comforted that MVB’s shoes in midfield have been filled so amply by his compatriot. After all, every bit of de Jong’s quality will be needed in the impending clash against Juventus, when he should provide a sturdy challenge to the Old Lady’s powerful central midfielders.

Indeed lightning rarely strikes twice. Yet when it comes to filling the role of their midfield destroyer, AC Milan are certainly fortunate that it did.

 

 

Cinderella Men

The benefits of politics, married as they are to big business, are incidental. They are certainly not exclusively intended for the gain of the majority. Political changes are great movements that people throw themselves behind or latch onto depending on how it will benefit their individual circumstances.

 

Take the impending Scottish referendum on independence for example. If I was a purely objective pundit looking from the outside, I might think that voting 'aye' would be a slightly better alternative route for the population at large. Yet if I was a hard-nosed businessman who made his living from trading goods exclusively with England, and might risk incurring cross-border tariffs – in the event that an independent Scotland is not granted automatic EU accession - then of course I'd be front of the 'naw thanks' bandwagon.

But how the outcome of a political decision affects the majority for the better is often purely incidental, and irrelevant to the handful of powerbrokers causing the great political headwinds in the first place.

 

And speaking of Scotland, a political decision was recently taken that might incidentally also lift the country’s profile, as well as other nations who have been lurking in the football wilderness for a while now. The Tartan Army's darlings were once a mainstay in international soccer tournaments, when their fans cheered all and sundry with their bagpipes and kilts, before being sent home early by one rubbish side after another.

Yet dire as Scotland were on the pitch, their colourful and peaceful fans were always missed when they were gone, and proof of the wonderful diversity that exists within the United Kingdom itself, let alone the entire continent of Europe. After all football is a celebration and not just a sport, a means to break down the barriers between us, leaving us to revel in our differences before and after the game is played out.
 

 

 

This week Scotland pushed Germany all the way in Dortmund, narrowly losing out 2-1 in a display that was both inspiring and spirited. Their first eleven are still a bit rubbish, yet the gusto with which the Scots entered the fray would have left William Wallace beaming.

I guess it doesn't take much to raise your game against the current world champions, but I think there was more to their performance than just that. Because psychology is everything in sport, and nothing gives a player a greater spring in his step than the genuine belief that a prize is in sight. And what greater prize could the Scottish football team give its long-suffering army of fans, than automatic qualification for Euro 2016.

 

Which has all been made possible, of course, by UEFA President Michel Platini's decision to expand the Euros from 16 to 24 teams. This decision has gone on to divide the football world like the independence campaign has divided Scottish voters. And whenever faced by a polarising issue, I like to strain my ear towards all arguments both for and against. And my final conclusion is that Platini's decision has not been a good one. It has been EFFING AWESOME! Why on earth didn't UEFA think about this before?!

 

The naysayers are falling over themselves to shout that the decision was taken in favour of greater political expediency, in that Platini expanded the tournament to endear himself to a larger number of national associations. Of course it was taken for greater political expediency! Politics is what UEFA does right?

The only problem with political expediency is if a decision is taken which manifestly benefits the few to the detriment of the many. 'But this is also the case!' argue the 'no movement' because now the quality of the football at the Euros will be 'watered down'!

 

Watered down?

 

Since when did bloody football turn into a fine Chardonnay?

 

How readily do people forget that Europe is the cradle of football, and deserves a bigger tournament. What’s wrong with throwing in another eight sides? More national associations will take some money home from the bonanza, and who loses out of all this?

Some pundits have gone on to whinge that the best third placed sides in the group stage will now qualify for the knock-out stages of the finals tournament, but why is this an issue? This used to happen all the time at the world cup until the number of qualifying nations were expanded in 1998. Third placed sides like Argentina went on to reach the final in 1990, as did third placed Italy in 1994!

 

 

 

Football is in a state of constant flux, and giving a side every possible opportunity to survive in a tournament is a cracking idea. Can you seriously say that the present England team boasting a more experienced Raheem Sterling and young John Stones are the exact same side that foundered at the last world cup? Not to mention Italy with Conte at the helm and the likes of Immobile and Zaza firing up its attack? A week can be a long time in football, just like it can be in politics. You never know when a young player might appear out of nowhere to give his national side a new dimension.

Which is not to mention that traditional ‘big sides’ are also known to have sudden dips in form. Take Brazil, who went from being Confederations Cup champions and dead-certs to win the last world-cup to no-hopers in the space of a few months. And what of Spain, whose ‘European favourites’ tag got shredded to ribbons after just a couple of group games against Holland and Chile? Sudden peaks in form are also possible, and if Ribery returned to the French side, could you seriously take them to be the same toothless proposition when faced with top-level opposition?

 

And how patronising an argument is it to say that only a small elite of 'big sides' should be represented, and that other national teams are just window dressing?! Has everyone forgotten Denmark in Euro ‘92, who were pulled off the beaches to replace a war-torn Yugoslavia and ended up winning the bloody tournament against world champions Germany? And that, I remind you, was achieved without the phenomenal Michael Laudrup in their number, who was bent on boycotting the team!

An achievement which was incredibly overshadowed Greece at Portugal '04, a team that never won a game at a major football tournament? Roundly expected to be the whipping boys in their group, they went on to beat Figo and Cristiano Ronaldo's Portugal both in their opening game and in the final, whilst also knocking out Zidane's France and Nedved's Czech Rep in between.

 

 

 

 

The whole history of the tournament is littered with these Cinderella stories, which people all too easily forget. Just like they forget that the Euros is a massive sporting event, second only to the World Cup and even bigger than the Olympics! The reason? Football is insanely popular in Europe, and almost every national side except Gibraltar can give you a run for your money. You only have to look at the recent upset achieved by minnows Albania in Portugal this week to know that everything is up for grabs in a competitive fixture.

 

But if the purists really think that the inclusion of more sides in the Euros is going to somehow 'weaken' the tournament, then why don’t they just ignore the competition until it reaches the quarter final stages. Who's stopping them? It’s true that if they turn their sights back on the tournament at the later knock-out stages, they might see an unexpected British side in there, or a plucky little Balkan nation.

I wonder what they'd think then? They'll probably view these sides as some sort of aberration or gate-crasher, who should not have a seat at the last eight table, before turning their attentions to other 'bigger' teams instead.

Yet others like me shall revel in cheering on the plucky underdog, in the forlorn hope that another ‘smaller side’ might follow in the footsteps of previous Cinderella men.

 

 

Ulysses Found

An eighth placed finish last season left AC Milan a long way from home. A home that is a European spot, at a minimum. The rossoneri’s is a history which places them at the pinnacle of European football, since the seven European Cups in their trophy cabinet means their haul is second only to Real Madrid's ten.

Memories flood the mind of their two European Cup wins in the noughties, and the heady days of glory in the late 80s to mid-90s, when AC were the undisputed kings of the world. But the landscape has completely changed. No longer is AC a champion wearing the best armour that money can buy, stepping out into the arena with the biggest sword, ready to sow mayhem and seize glory. They now find themselves a straggler reduced to rags, slowly getting back to their feet after the civil war between Adriano and Barbara. It’s a place of little certainty, for a team trying its hardest to find its way back home.

Things used to be straightforward and simple. They would face their rivals on the field with the best resources at their disposal. But AC’s greatest obstacles now lurk both within and without, as the football landscape changes at the speed of light. A global demand for the game looms larger every year, and if things were hard for Italian clubs in the noughties, they’ve clearly not gotten any easier. TV rights and foreign owners have rendered other leagues more attractive, and Real, Barca and Bayern are now every player’s top three destinations of choice. AC have long lost a guaranteed place amongst this elite. As Liverpool and then Man United discovered, today’s gen Y and i players have no time for history. As far as they’re concerned you either play in Europe or you’re as good as dead.

So it’s still not looking like plain sailing, and there’s few gods in their corner. Cliché as it may sound, AC’s return home is going to be one treacherous Odyssey full of twists and turns. And in view of the choppy seas which lie ahead, what better commander to stand with his foot upon the wind-battered prow than Ulysses himself?

A thought which takes me back to late Sunday nights spent in front of the box, watching fat Italian pundits on RAI and Mediaset channels, laboriously dissecting the events of the Serie A matchday amid a zillion replays. The passion with which they spoke was unrivalled, yet they were possessed of such corpulence that you wondered if they even walked from their seat to the gents without getting a lift in a car. Amongst their number was inevitably the presence of a solitary stunning showgirl, who was generally expected to look pretty and flash the odd nod and smile. If she ever got to give her own view on the events of the day, it was instantly met with nodding that was even more animated than usual, as well as the odd condescending smile.

Chauvinistic stuff, but also a delightful platform for great calcio debate. In which one of the discussions once centred upon the two best Italian strikers at the time: cross-town rivals Christian ‘Bobo’ ‘Aussie’ Vieri of Inter, and Filippo ‘Superpippo’ Inzaghi of AC. An Inter supporter was hotly contesting the gamesmanship of Superpippo, using it to argue that Vieri was the better striker. To which another pundit calmly countered that the difference in playing styles was not being appreciated by the accuser, for whilst Vieri was an Achilles (built like a tank and possessed of a blistering shot), Inzaghi had no choice but to be a Ulysses.

The point will not be lost on lovers of myth, that whilst Achilles was by far the greater warrior, it was Ulysses who devised the downfall of Troy and also found his way back home. Homer portrayed him as a hero who always had his eye on the prize, and who used his wits and guile at all times to make up for any shortfall in his physical abilities.

It was a fitting analogy, and one that I love. Anyone who watched Inzaghi the player knows that his first touch could be poor, complemented by average pace and zero dribbling skills. The purists often dismissed him throughout his career, in which the slight lad from Piacenza made a mockery of the qualities often associated with the out and out striker. Some described him as a ‘coat hanger’, always dangling off the back of the opposition’s last man, and always itching to seize upon a loose ball. A quality which led Sir Alex Ferguson to famously remark that Superpippo was ‘born offside’.

 

Yet Pippo was worth his weight in gold when it came to yielding the hard currency of football. He remains the all-time Italian goalscorer in European competition, and second only to Raul in its scoring charts. Never has there been witnessed a greater lust for goalscoring opportunities, with many often branding Inzaghi as both selfish and greedy.

It was once said that ‘greed is good’, but it was not greed alone that rocketed Pippo into the stratosphere. If he had few gifts, the greatest was certainly that of being in the right place at the right time. Cue the Champions League final between AC and Liverpool in 2007, a game that was to prove Pippo’s swansong at the top level. AC had an absolute stinker of a game, yet Pippo (chosen ahead of Gilardino although he was still injured) only had to get on the end of two balls for AC to win 2-1 and secure their last European Cup. Those that knew him were not surprised, for he had been a ‘fox in the box’ (to borrow a phrase from Arsene Wenger) for over ten years, using his guile and low cunning to overcome the seemingly impossible.

Some still call it luck. But if Pippo’s positional sense was just down to fortuna, it was married to other qualities that set him apart as a player. His determination to prove doubters wrong saw him hit the ground running upon his joining Juventus from Atalanta (where he had been Serie A’s top scorer), with him and Del Piero scoring for fun in the Serie A, thereby ridiculing the traditional wisdom of having a ‘little and large’ attacking duo up front. Then there was his passage to AC Milan, where he re-confirmed himself as a top drawer striker.

His eleven years at AC saw him win ten trophies, where his intense focus and razor sharp reflexes remained his trademark. Still hanging onto the backs of his assigned stoppers, he was first to tear after defence splitting passes or assists, losing his marker in the blink of an eye and often being so quick on the draw that even the linesman failed to notice that he was often offside.  

He was tough too. I still shudder to remember the treatment he got from Inter defenders during his time at Juve and AC, when his small frame found itself the target of snapping elbows and lunges from your Colonneses or Materazzis. Pippo’s resolve never waivered before such challenges, and his courage in the face of this brutality was remarkable, almost on a par with his burning will to win. Inzaghi’s unspectacular playing style may often have led fans to take him for granted, but his spells out of the team due to injury made everyone realise his importance to a side whenever he returned. His mere presence on the field instantly provided AC with a focal point in attack, so that the rossoneri were possessed of a greater cutting edge.

 

 

 

Since his retirement it’s been slim pickings for AC. Their European Cup win in 2007 remains the apogee of their last truly great side. Otherwise theirs has been just a stop-start journey, with one league title but little else, with the death knell in the club’s fortunes appearing to be the sale of Silva and Ibra to PSG in 2012. As expected, this has not sat comfortably with Pippo, for few have ever shown a greater devotion to the rossoneri’s cause. When obtaining impressive results as coach of AC’s youth sides, he once lashed out at the club’s first team manager Allegri, for not taking the AC job seriously enough.

Allegri departed halfway through the last season, to be replaced by Seedorf who was sacked a few months later. Whilst things seemed like they could not get any worse for AC, it was the worst kept secret about Milanello that Pippo was desperate for the hotseat. Cometh the hour, cometh the man. And whilst the football world was abuzz with news of transfers in the EPL and La Liga, new Milan coach Inzaghi got busy under the radar, being quick to snap up two classy loans in former PSG stars Menez and Alex , and a brilliant free transfer in Real Madrid keeper Diego Lopez (perhaps due to a few tip offs from his former manager Ancelotti?)

Each of these players were crucial in AC’s opening day win, when Inzaghi’s side spanked Lazio 3-1, and Lopez even got to make a fantastic penalty save. The side displayed all of their manager’s qualities, being quick on the break and to snatch up its chances, and showing a great resilience as they sat back until an opportunity presented itself. AC have also acquired Torres on loan and a few other players, and despite fans’ protestations about the sale of young Cristante to Benfica, a single win has lifted much of the gloom around Milanello.

Yet despite these sudden plaudits, Pippo shall demand that his charges keep their feet on the ground, whilst insisting that their best friends remain hunger and toil. After all, the road back to Europe will be a hard one, but it is achievable. Last season’s Atletico Madrid and Liverpool showed the way, two clubs with limited resources that came out of nowhere to make a title tilt (and in the case of the Madridistas, a serious push for the European crown).

It’s a season in which AC will seek to take some firm steps back towards home. And given Pippo’s burning will to win, expect plenty more lightning strikes from his side. Don’t blink, or you just might miss them.