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?

Suspicious Minds

Last week was a suspicious sort of week. WikiLeaks are still making all the headlines since then, causing foreign secretaries and ministers to book twice the number of flights they usually embark on to allay the suspicions of their foreign colleagues and / or 'allies'. And if that weren’t fishy enough, the World Cup bidding process held last week in Zurich to determine the host nations in 2018 and 2022 raised eyebrows worldwide, and left many with more questions than answers. The Anglo trio (for want of a better collective term) of the USA, England and Australia were left with egg on their faces because of that hoary old party pooper of Russia that went on to secure WC18, not to mention a miniscule upstart from their favourite stomping ground of the Middle East. 

The plucky little Asian state of Qatar had the gall to trounce the USA in a second bout of voting for WC22 after shrugging off the Aussie threat in the first round. This outcome was diplomatically referred to by US President Barack Obama as ‘a mistake’, which would surely have gone down as smooth as crude in the Middle East.

Personally speaking, I live in Sydney, Australia, and of course I also ‘cracked a sad’, albeit a fleeting one since I cannot wait for Oprah Winfrey to finally get here (yeah right). As I was telling my friend Martin when we grabbed a train from Wynyard to Central, ‘it’s a shame we didn’t get the world cup because it might finally have earned Sydney a 24 hour airport and a metro.’ Now instead all we’ll get is a big violet O on the Sydney Harbour bridge, to celebrate the arrival of America’s richest entertainer.

Successful bids

But if you think I’m upset, I’m not a patch of rage on the Anglo bidding teams whose public expressions of disbelief soon spiralled into ones of to outrage, faster than you can say ‘that half pint of Carlos Tevez is wearing a snood again!’ Their journalists are laying into FIFA with a frenzy that is only matched by the daily exposure given to latest whistleblowing pin-up boy Julian Assange.

After our train ride Martin and I had coffee at his place and watched the various bid presentations on YouTube (it's enough of an ordeal trying to keep up with live world football in this part of the world, so the bidding process was given a miss - prince charming or no prince charming).

To be honest, although Russia’s bid presentation looked like an extension of the little clip that usually precedes their 80s retro style Eurovision song contest offerings, the one presented by Qatar was impressively slick and, in my reckoning, the best by a mile. Martin was of a shared opinion, his made more relevant by his extensive career in creative design in the cutthroat world of advertising. 

Qatar certainly managed to make their weaknesses look like strengths, their presentation so futuristic that they would’ve made you believe that they could host the whole thing on the moon (they’ve probably got enough oil and gas to pull that off too if they wanted), let alone in the middle of the desert. 

 

 

 

 

They were also very shrewd when it came to displaying a globe that showed the number of people in different countries who would be able to access the games during the normal hours of the day, from which they conveniently, albeit justifiably, excluded the countries in Oceania region e.g. Australia. And how cool was the Qatari’s plan to disassemble stadia which are to be built for the WC22 and re-construct them in developing countries?! Unreal, if it can be pulled off. 

Doubtless there’s been no end of back-scratching going on behind the scenes and the Qatari born Asian Football Confederation President Mohammed Bin Hammam must have good old backscratch with half-pint FIFA President Sepp Blatter, but hey, were we really expecting anything different from the workings of a global institution? Movie studios buy the Oscars every year and the Lord alone knows what goes on behind the scenes whenever a Pope is elected (although He is said to elect him).  

But there are other questions that this whole charade of choosing two world cups threw up which many haven’t yet found an answer for. First of which being: why on earth should national associations be made to throw away all this money to launch a bid to bring home the world cup? 

Shouldn’t the 'faceless' FIFA delegates draw up a strategic shortlist of willing nations (let’s face it, who wouldn’t want to host it?) that they think should organise the world cup on the basis of growing the game internationally and assign it to the best candidate for the job? All this bidding process does is pave the way for large gifts and bribes to the FIFA delegates. 

National associations worldwide should just pull out and let FIFA come to them instead of parading their princes, presidents and other stars (ok we’ll make one exception for Elle Macpherson) before the FIFA delegates before returning home empty-handed. If nothing else, it will curb the resentment and suspicion that inevitably follows the bidding process and give the English Premier League (EPL) one less arrow to aim at FIFA’s behind.

Unsuccessful bids

There’s also other questions that can be picked out of the wreckage of the triple Anglo failed bid (for the sake of the blissfully unaware who might still be reading this: England lost out on WC18, US and Australia on WC22). 

Let’s start with England’s bid team. Did they seriously think that parading so many foreign stars from the EPL (often perceived by FIFA and UEFA as the arch-enemy of grass roots development) in their presentation was going to endear them to the FIFA delegates? If England is the home of football, why show off so many foreign stars? 

Would it not have been better to get street kids from council estates to declare how much having football ‘come back home’ would mean to them (besides a return flight to Zurich)? And did the English bid team seriously think that parading their Prince and Prime Minister was going to press any post-colonial romance buttons? With all due respect, what do the Royal Family and David Beckham (still a great English footballer, albeit one of few who does not play in England, the proclaimed home of football) represent to the rest of the world except past glories? 

 

Perhaps one of the mistakes made by the English bid team was that they failed to realise that the world today is not what was sixty years ago, no matter how much you swan about Zurich with a big winning smile on your face and speak of confidence. 

And as for the Yanks, did they seriously think they were going to get a world cup so soon after having hosted the event in 1994? Especially after going through such lengths in their presentation to explain how far their domestic league has come in recent years since USA94? And how easy was it to believe Landon Donovan’s claims that the US is a great footballing destination when he’s been pining for a move away from the MLS throughout the course of the last season? 

Which is not to mention Morgan Freeman apologising for missing a page when he read his speech to FIFA (for the love of Pete, surely an Academy award winning actor can recite his speech? Especially if he’s being paid real do$h to do so?)

So for all their bells and whistles, the English and American bids appeared more like namedropping exercises rather than a delivery about what preparations they would undergo to stage the tournament itself – which is what Qatar focused on. The Anglos failed to come out with new compelling concepts, instead choosing to present their countries as being multinational states (is that not true of most developed countries these days?), with a clutch of fading stars parading the old myths of them being ‘lands of diversity and opportunity’. 

To be honest, if I were a delegate, I would have felt patronised and pandered to with my intelligence insulted. In fact after the bidding process was over, some delegates referred to the arrogance of the English bid which shows that if the English FA didn’t have many friends to begin with in FIFA, they might have a few less now.

The failure of Australia certainly hurt the most. Which is not to mention the Aussie bid team’s slogan of ‘Come Play’, certainly the worst and blandest logo in the history of bids by aspiring host nations. Couldn’t they have added ‘mate’ and turned the tagline into ‘Come Play Mate’? Ok it might appear dodgier than wearing a snood, but at least it adds a bit of distinctive national flavour? Doesn’t it? There you go, even I came up with better, and I’m not even paid for it!

But joking apart, the Aussies should have taken a leaf out of Qatar’s book and focused more on turning the country's weaknesses into strengths. They could have grabbed their splendid isolation and used it to project a country that is unique, different from anywhere else - a fascinating place beyond your imagination which the world cup would give you an excuse to visit. What did the tram station and a wizened bikey version of Crocodile Dundee have to do with that? You can see all of that jazz anywhere! 

 

 

They might have sold this country better by presenting it as a more exotic, off this planet paradise containing cheerful, colourful loons like me! But I suspect the bid team's efforts backfired when they tried to show that Australia has got beaches, top restaurants and cities like everyone else and more mystery should have been employed. In fact Qatar didn’t show all of their hand, give or take some 80s style moustaches among their bidding team.

In any case, the Australian representatives should not be too hard for themselves, although one vote out of twenty-two was an incredible result. Did Frank Lowy and co. truly believe that FIFA would lightly sacrifice the sleep of hundreds of millions all because of little more than circa 26 million people? (and that’s the population of NZ included). Ok by 2022 the combined populations of Australia and NZ might regrettably go up to 30 million, given the present world crisis of overpopulation, but it was always going to be a long shot to bring the World Cup down under, and one which may take another generation to achieve.

Conclusions

In any case, the selection process employed by FIFA should certainly have taught the world governing body two lessons, although I’m not sure both shall be observed. The first was that FIFA should really just select countries based on the agenda of world football. It is of no use having the USA, Australia and England staging costly bids and offering better infrastructures when you suspect all along that the tournament is going to be awarded to a new land. This should serve to eliminate bribing and curb the growing ill will towards FIFA. 

The second lesson, that FIFA has proclaimed to have already learnt, is that there should never again be bids accepted for two different tournaments. It only serves to increase the number of disaffected parties, which in turn allows powerbrokers to turn the screw on FIFA and increase backroom deals and the reported corruption among FIFA delegates. In fact a friend of mine recently suggested that it might be an idea for FIFA to select willing countries further in advance without all the fuss and furore of a bidding process so that the host nation would have more time in which to prepare for the tournament.

As for the Anglos’ accusations of other bidding teams ‘buying votes’, I am not sure that it is very dignified after voting is concluded to point fingers and behave like sore losers. Especially if you profess that you knew all along that buying votes was part of the game but refused to do it, because it risks making you look even more inept rather than holy. The USA, England and Australia should take a leaf out of the book of Spain, Portugal, Holland, Belgium etc. and retire with good grace instead of crying foul. 

However it looks like the Anglo trio are intent on persisting with flinging all kinds of accusations at FIFA. And the EPL is already sharpening its knives to make the most out of the general discontent surrounding the world governing body. This week Wigan chairman Noel Whelan made incredibly off the wall remarks when proclaiming that the EPL should turn on FIFA after the embarrassment suffered by England (erm didn’t other countries also table unsuccessful bids?) and refuse to allow their stars to play international football if FIFA refuses to compensate clubs for injuries to their stars sustained during international games. 

What’s worse is that this rallying cry seems to be gathering impetus across England who also have fellow sore losers in the USA and Australia with whom to munch sour grapes. The discontentment in the latter two nations is probably of greater concern to FIFA, given that they are both new world countries where football is still competing with other sports to become the number one domestic game. 

Perhaps FIFA President Sepp Blatter had best go on a charm offensive to claw back these disgruntled nations. By putting on one of his many forced smiles, he could further stun the Anglo world by donning the gown and crown, and after sauntering onto a stage and shaking his pelvis, sing (with curled lower lip) in his most crooning, baritone voice:

We're caught in a trap

I can't walk out

Because I love you too much baby

Why can't you see

What you're doing to me

When you don't believe a word I say?

We can't go on together

With suspicious minds

And we can't build our dreams

On suspicious minds 

So, if an old friend I know

Drops by to say hello

Would I still see suspicion in your eyes? 

Here we go again

Asking where I've been

You can't see these tears are real

I'm crying 

We can't go on together

With suspicious minds

And we can't build our dreams

On suspicious minds 

Oh let our love survive

Or dry the tears from your eyes

Let's don't let a good thing die 

When honey, you know

I've never lied to you

Mmm yeah, yeah

 

Indisposable Heroes

 

 

One thing society must guard against is discrimination. And one form of discrimination which seems to be snowballing is ageism. Admittedly some old people, if not adaptable to new and positive trends, can end up ruining things or outstaying their welcome. But most of them are gems and more of a balance needs to be struck. We live in a consumer culture of use and discard, where the general mindset is: what’s useful today cannot surely be relevant tomorrow. And although the Roman empire has long collapsed, the mob still bays for the blood of fallen heroes. Nowhere is this more apparent than in football, the quintessence of popular culture and eternal metaphor of life.

Last week history was made when Tottenham Hotspur finally beat Arsenal away after seventeen years. It was a historic victory and one which proved the value of older players. Arsenal did not have one player on the pitch over thirty years old, yet the player named man of the match was Tottenham’s William Gallas, a 33 year old French defender who was discarded by Arsenal before this season even started. To add salt to the wound of Arsenal’s defeat, Gallas was also made captain by Spurs coach Harry Redknapp before the game. After Tottenham’s incredible win a number of younger Spurs players like Jenas and Kaboul stressed the importance of having Gallas in the side, whose leadership qualities helped Spurs to turn their two nil deficit into a 3-2 win.

This is not to say that Arsenal coach Arsene Wenger got his just desserts for ditching Gallas. The latter is known to be a vocal character and his public outbursts at Arsenal could not have been helping Wenger’s plans. Yet although youth must have its fling, it is hard to win big matches with kids alone. Ferguson is constantly heralded as being the guy who ‘won it with the kids’ in the 95-96 season when Beckham, Giggs, Scholes etc. burst onto the scene. Yet many forget that that side was also studded with grizzled senior players like Steve Bruce, Gary Pallister, David May and Denis Irwin. Wenger seems reluctant to pay large fees to keep hold of senior players, yet although he is to be admired for the youngsters he unearths and bloods, the Arsenal coach must be fast realising that experience and maturity also possess market value.

It certainly cannot be excluded that wily old fox Wenger will mastermind a turnaround but, technically gifted as his latest Gunners side is, there seems to be something lacking with his squad. And it’s not technique or potential. We’re talking wise ol’ heads. That’s right, the over 30s veteran that barks at the boys to get stuck in, who can read the way the game is going and lead by example when putting in a few ‘Chopper Harris’ tackles or engaging in some dirty old Billy Bremner gamesmanship. All this is crucial to a winning side. An idealist is one who thinks roses make better soup than cabbages because they smell better and it appears Wenger is falling into this trap. He should recall that his Invincibles record-breaking side that ran away with the Prem in 03/04 featured veterans like Martin Keown, Sol Campbell and Ray Parlour.

Every team needs a balance of veterans and young starlets. Just ask great Scot Sir Alex Ferguson, who still unleashes his trusted pint-sized ginger ninja Paul Scholes to rip heads off opponents when things get sticky. He’s a piece of work that Scholes, at times putting his former midfield mate Keano to shame, and if he were thrown into a fridge with a rabid lioness, I’m not sure what bets I’d place on the feline surviving. Which is not to mention the value of the evergreen Ryan Giggs, albeit a balder and gaunter prospect than the fresh-faced pin-up boy of yore, but still a seasoned trickster along the wing or nipping in behind the striker. And there can be little doubt that if Beckham had followed the Ferguson code of shunning the limelight, he would still be gracing the right wing at Manchester United.
 

 

And on that note, what a force of nature is David Beckham. Long after people have claimed that he’s done and dusted, to the point that you imagine him possessing intricate varicose veins and hobbling around with a cane, the man returns from injury time and again, managing to play high octane games in the US and Europe whilst also managing the odd friendly in Australia.  This week he’s readying to face Newcastle United downunder after shaking off a knock. He is an incredible ambassador of the game and always bursting to play for his country, when he never gives less than 100 per cent. He’s a breath of fresh air and a far cry from the increasing number of young players that abandon their national side due to rejection or for no reason at all.

Which is not to mention some of Beckham’s Italian contemporaries, two of whom ruled Juventus in the days when Becks fuelled Manchester United’s forays into the European Champions League. Indeed at 36 Alex Del Piero is still an integral part of Juventus, even scoring a brilliant winner against deadly rivals AC Milan this season. Which is not to mention Del Piero’s former team-mate Filippo Inzaghi with whom Del Piero formed such a successful and unlikely little and little (meant to be little and large) striking partnership at Juve before Inzaghi moved to AC Milan, where this season he broke Gerd Mueller’s record in the European Champions League and would probably be extending it had injury not cut him short. Despite this latest setback there can be little doubt that Superpippo will be back next year to continue his goalscoring exploits, although he would by then be 38.

The duo's exploits might have also stirred their former Juventus team-mate Edgar Davids, at 37, to come out of retirement this year. He was certainly deemed fit enough to be offered a stint at Championship side Crystal Palace. Although he went on to quit early, It appears his attitude with his new team mates had more to do with his stint coming to an end than did his lack of playing ability. As useful as a senior player may be on the field of play, you certainly cannot teach an old dog new tricks!

Ageing beautifully also appears to be in evidence on the West Coast of Australia, with 35 year old Robbie Fowler rolling back the years with his hat-trick against Melbourne Victory, his 2nd and 3rd goals proving that his left foot finishing remains world class. His goals brought back memories of his infamous hat-trick against Arsenal which remains the fastest ever hat-trick in the English Premier League.

Indeed certain goal-poaching instincts and skills simply cannot be coached. But older heads also serve to put the boot in when it matters at crucial points of the game, thereby helping to drag their team-mates along. It’s probably why Capello tried to reintroduce Scholes and Carragher to his side before world cup 2010 shortly after news of Beckham’s injury made world headlines. 
 

 

 

 

Old heads also lead by example and drag their team-mates along when it matters most. Its probably why Inter Milan keep Javier Zanetti (37) on their books and refuse to let go of Materazzi (37), and why Serie A leaders AC Milan have no concerns with keeping 34 year olds Oddo, Yepes and Seedorf (often nicknamed Slowdorf) in their squad and would probably still have Maldini on their books if the latter hadn’t decided to retire at age 41.

This has been a season of indisposable heroes. Aston Villa supporters might scratch their heads about 37 year old Robert Pires having recently joined their squad but the Frenchman might yet prove an inspired acquisition if he lives up to Houllier’s former shrewd acquisition of Scottish midfielder Gary McAllister in 2000, who at 35 spurred Liverpool on to 3 trophies in one season during his solitary year there, a trophy haul which since remains unmatched by an English club.

All of which makes me think that when a player gets older he actually gets better and better. The only thing he may start to lack is the belief of fans what with the media constantly chipping away at older players’ confidence by claiming they are too old and making them scapegoats for team losses. All players certainly have dips in form, but so too have young players. Is Rooney finished? He would be if he were over 30, with just about every tabloid journalist probably lining up to call on him to call time on his career. It’s a grossly unfair trend among many club fans and media outlets to pick on an older player which is why criticism of older players often goes ignored by coaches who in fact prefer experienced players.

Why shouldn’t players last longer with the advanced training regimes and specialised diets afforded them in this day and age? Back in the pre-war and post-war days many players played until and beyond their fifties which certainly could not have been a mean task given the little protection they were afforded by referees back then. 

England legend Stanley Matthews played beyond his sixties, and Pele (arguably the world’s greatest goalscorer) retired at 37. And what about the shameless 37 year old former Socceroo Kevin Muscat, who years after making international headlines for his shocking challenge on Frenchman Christophe Dugarry, still captains the Melbourne Victory, having twice led them to the A League title after choosing to snap shins in midfield instead of defence. Muscat certainly the most famous player of Maltese background, still showing all players how far they can go if they possess enough gall.

 

 

At times managers latch onto fans' complaints that players are getting too old and claim that they’re ‘building for the future’ but often its just an excuse to justify their losses because they’re ‘blooding young players’. Which is probably why Bolton’s Kevin Davies wasn’t selected again for England after becoming the oldest England debutant since Leslie Crompton in 1950 when he was selected to play a Euro 2012 qualifier against Montenegro last month. Yet despite his advanced years (33) many fans have long argued that Davies should be an England regular what with his cast-iron pie arse being a useful tool with which to hold up the ball for a younger nippier striker.

Older players might at worst lose a yard of pace, but experience counts for so much more, as was evidenced by Teddy Sheringham before he hung up his boots. Here was a striker who lasted so long because he could read the game so well. It’s easy to discard older players but they’re difficult to replace. As evidenced in the Spurs-Arsenal clash, they are all too often a determining factor in close encounters, just like when Spain faced the awesome young Germany side in the semis of World Cup 2010 and old head Puyol (second oldest player on the pitch after fellow Spaniard Capdevila) popped up to bang in the winner with his shaggy head in what was a tense and close encounter. 

Conventional wisdom has usually dictated that retirement ages should be 34 max for a striker, 36 for a midfielder, 38 for a defender and 40 for a goalie, but this season the exploits of many veterans have flown into the face of this dogma. David James has broken the 40 year old mark playing in goal for Bristol and will he play on till 50? One wonders what hairstyle or woeful cream suit will he might sport at that age? Perhaps James is hoping to follow in the footsteps of the other eccentric keeper and inventor of the infamous ‘scorpion kick’, Colombian goalie Rene Higuita, who only retired earlier this year at the venerable age of 43.

For all the debate surrounding whether older players should be kept in club sides and international squads, I say let them play for as long as they want to, it’s often the media hype about how old they are that eventually gets them to pack it all in. Tell a football player – or anyone for that matter – that they’re finished for long enough and they’ll even start to believe it. But once they’re gone, they're inevitably always missed.