BRIAN GLANVILLE
writes for worldsoccer.com each week.
HORRID AFFAIR
25/06/08
The Ronaldo saga has, in the words of an old English folk song, indeed been a horrid affair. But whom should we blame? Cristiano Ronaldo himself?
Certainly his behaviour has not been impeccable, Alex Ferguson indeed and Manchester United fans would surely see it as disloyal. But how many English clubs managers walk out on their teams each season when they see bigger and better chances elsewhere? In their cases, contracts, good faith, loyalty never seem to matter too much. If Ronaldo has set his heart on playing for Real Madrid, perhaps we should not be too quick to condemn him.
Real Madrid themselves are surely another, squalid matter. In a word, they are up to their old familiar tricks. They lured Zinedine Zidane, they lured Luis Figo, they acquired David Beckham. After their then President piously, publicly and deceitfully stated that Real had no interest in him. Serve them right that his transfer proved something of a flop. United and Ferguson had every right to deplore the devious way in which Real enticed Ronaldo, quite within their rights to protest to FIFA; but what good does that ever do?
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Let's all laugh at Rugby! In the pious hope that after the sordid business of what happened in Auckland that night. Rugger will cease to assert any moral superiority over football.
Which never existed anyway. The old joke about Rugby, never mind the ball, let’s get on with the game, is all too valid. Rugby players can kick, stamp, punch and gouge and largely get away with it, those punishments imposed when, on sporadic occasions, a referee has actually condemned and punished such offences, seldom being condign.
As for behaviour off the field, I offer no excuse or extenuation for what star English players so often get up too, here and in Cyprus. “Roasting” young girls in West End hotels, videoing sex extravaganzas, in Cypriot hotels, urinating on the floor of London nightclubs. No angels, indeed. But the attempt of English Rugby Union officials to explain away the hotel bedroom antics of England players in Auckland was despicable.
And what in the name of decent discipline were these players doing at all, going out on the town, frequenting the dubious Pony Bar, bringing girls back to their hotel at all, hard on the heels of a thoroughly humiliating defeat by the All Blacks which should surely have had them nursing their shame, rather than “celebrating”?
The sheer naivety of Rob Andrew, temporarily and ineptly in charge, of telling us that things will be different in the future, when players will be belatedly forbidden to go out on the spree after such games, boggles the brain. Though I suppose there is something of an analogy with the astonishing permissiveness of Saint Alex when he allowed his United players to take over a whole Mancunian hotel, and invite a platoon of girls – emphatically not their wives – to share the occasion with them. One of those silly women complained afterwards that she and they were treated like “pieces of meat.” What did they expect? And, for that matter, what did the usually draconian Fergie expect?
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What, you wonder, possessed UEFA to stage half their European Championship finals in Switzerland with its tiny stadia, none of them even big enough to harbour 40,000 fans? Only when matches were played on Prater, in Vienna, in the so-called Ernst Happel stadium – if he’d ever won the World Cup, as a manager, remember, it could have been in Buenos Aires with Holland in 1978 – would crowds rise as moderately high as 55,000. Had the tournament been played in Spain, Italy or France, crowds could have been huge. Switzerland was all well and good back in 1954 when it put on with some success a fascinating World Cup; but time has surely marched on since then.
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An often exciting and entertaining Euro tournament was blemished by some strange refereeing decisions. How on earth, for example, did Michael Ballack get away with shoving aside the Portuguese full back Paulo Ferreira, so he could head Germany’s third, important, goal against Portugal? A tactful Big Phil Scolari, perhaps ever conscious of the fact that he would soon be managing Ballack at Chelsea, made little of the offence, but offence it surely was. And when will we hear from UEFA or FIFA about the daft “interpretation” – I quote the muddled UEFA executive – which enabled Ruud Van Nistelrooy to score that blatantly offside goal against Italy? One repeats: either it’s a law or it isn’t.
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Were I to pick my two favourite players of the tournament, they would be Andrei Arshavin of Russia and little Luka Modric of Croatia. Both wonderfully inventive ball players, both courageous enough to take on and beat their men, both highly imaginative users of the ball. And in the case of the ultra talented Arshavin, capable of scoring spectacular goals as well as making them.
For Modric, when he missed Serbia’s first penalty in the shoot out against Turkey, one could feel only sympathy. He has after all, in ordinary and extra time (when the Turks came so suddenly and impressively to life) the finest player on the field, constantly keeping his team on the move, never for a moment intimidated by much larger opponents.
As for Arshavin, his suspension from Russia’s first two games surely had much to do with their uncertain start. But once he was back against Sweden, the wheels began to turn with a vengeance. His performance in extra time against Holland took the breath away. Two vital goals, almost all his own work, the first when he cut in from the left, leaving defenders flat footed, to cross, the second when he cut in from the right, with the help of a deflection, to score Russia’s devastating third goal. Long will one remember the image of him, at the end, his eyes tight shut, as he fought back tears of delight.
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Need France have done so badly? Patrick Vieira, though he never got a kick, charitably tried to absolve Raymond (“I’m marrying my partner now”) Domenech of blame, but it made scant sense. Why, you wondered, did Domenech completely ignore the resilient Roma centre back Philippe Mexes and choose such a discredited defender as the fallible Boumsong? Why didn’t he pick for his squad Gael Clishy who had such a successful season as an overlapping left back at Arsenal? Why did he largely ignore the lively Diarra, who could surely have occupied with far greater dash and drive one of the two midfield positions in which the ageing Claude Makelele and the modest Toulalan were essentially holding, rather than creative figures? Though he and France were hugely unlucky to lose so early in the Italy game a player as essential and inspiring as Franck Ribery.
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Italy's dull display against Spain had much to do with the fact that both their Milan midfield players Gennaro Gattuso and the inventive essential Andrea Pirlo were suspended. There was no adequate replacement, meaning that the accent inevitably had to be put on defence.
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Putting it politely. On read the other day that Sunderland’s highly effective high jumping striker, Kenwyne Jones, will be out of action for months to come, having suffered damaged knee ligaments playing for Trinidad in Port of Spain in that meaningless match against England. A shabby, deplorable attempt to gain World Cup 2008 voting favour with the outrageous Jack Warner.
Jones was injured because David “Calamity” James, this time inflicting calamity on an opponent rather than on his home side, came racing recklessly and dangerously out of his penalty box, to challenge for a ball which was perfectly well covered by Rio Ferdinand. In so doing, James cannoned into Jones, and knocked him down. No foul was given. Nor was there, one’s sure, any intention to harm poor Jones. But that is what happened, and both Jones and Sunderland are suffering accordingly.
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