Phil Ball [Archive] - Soccer Fans Network Forums

BLAUGRANA

09-02-2002, 11:22 PM

I was worried his column might not be returning. Looks like he just took the summer off though. Here's the first installment:

Monday, September 2, 2002
Sunday, lovely Sunday
By Phil Ball

Sunday in Spain is a day to be savoured. Most people get up indulgently late, just in time to stagger to the nearest bar for the mid-day aperitivo, a ritual that sets them up nicely to go out for a lunch that will usually start around 2.30 to 3.00 in the afternoon.

“ The children of Madrid are beginning to view Real's president, Florentino Pérez, as some sort of Father Christmas. Impossible dreams become reality. First there was Figo, then Zidane, and now Ronaldo. ”

Up here in the north (San Sebastian) that means lashings of beans and stuffed peppers followed by gargantuan steaks washed down with litres of wine - all finished off with guts awash in brandy and eyes watering in foggy plumes of cigar smoke.

Most folks can manage to cope with all this by 5.30 in the afternoon, meaning that if their homes are nearby they can nip home for an hour's kip before the really serious stuff begins - getting down to the local bar and securing a seat for the 'paper view' (as they pronounce it here).

When the football season begins Spain reconvenes as a society. People reluctantly recognise the need for a summer break from football, but it is only when September's lengthening shadows welcome the game back that the country seems to wake up from its collective siesta.

In Britain, shaven-headed gentlemen gather in dank pubs, sit in front of giant screens and swill enormous amounts of liquid, but in Spain, Sunday evening football brings out the whole family. Recovering from the excesses of lunch, grandma and her daughter will sip a glass of wine, chew on a tapa or two and enjoy the spectacle with the rest of the neighbourhood.

One day, Britain may see the light, but at present, Spain's the place to be for the football aficionado. If you can't get down to the game, it really doesn't matter so much these days.

Sunday offers a whole social programme, to be shared with the kids, your mates, and Tom, Ricardo and Harry.

There are some rather more obvious attractions this season of course. Most folks will forego the paper view and try to get down to their local stadium when Real Madrid and Barcelona come to town - a habit that is likely to be further consolidated by this week's extraordinary events down the Bernabéu way.

It seems that whenever Real Madrid start a rumour during the summer, it eventually comes true. The children of Madrid are really beginning to view Real's president, Florentino Pérez, as some sort of Mediterranean version of Father Christmas - except that his gifts usually arrive in late summer.

Impossible dreams keep becoming reality. First there was Figo, then Zidane, and now Ronaldo.

Ronaldo: New present from Father Christmas
(GraziaNeri/Allsport)

Watching Real Madrid in the flesh this season may well become the experience of a lifetime for the star-struck down here. The three mentioned above, plus Raúl, are arguably the world's four best players - a debatable issue of course, but in any top-ten poll the four would surely figure.

Add Roberto Carlos to the mix and this year's line-up looks as awesome, on paper at least, as any side in the history of the game.

Of course, there are some mitigating factors floating around. The whole messy episode of the Brazilian's signing has left a nasty taste in the mouth of various players in Madrid's luxury squad, none more than the excellent Fernando Morientes who at the time of writing would seem to be condemned to staying at a club that for some curious reason does not seem to want him.

Captain Fernando Hierro and Raúl, both big mates of Morientes, were seen at the stadium until the early hours of Saturday morning in a serious parley with their president - which suggests that they were putting the case to Pérez that the continued success of the club depends on the upkeep of the good spirit and calm weather that last season finally settled upon its formerly troubled waters.

Then again, given Ronaldo's tendency to injury, Morientes may not have his bum on the bench as much as he thinks this season. And Figo? He was lousy for most of last season, and there were those the club who were beginning to question his commitment to the cause. We shall see.

It has also been pointed out that Madrid have done little to solve the thorny problem of Hierro's advancing years. Although Raúl Bravo was being mentored to take his place, it was interesting to see the young defender's name turning up in the list of players offered to Inter as part of the package to secure Ronaldo. So that's how much they rate him?

And it should not be forgotten that it was not Madrid's attacking qualities that failed to net them the league and King's Cup last season but rather their increasingly dodgy defence. The signing of Ronaldo will add pace to the attack and obviously, it will be fascinating to see how he gets on with Morientes' best friend Raúl - but in terms of tactics the purchase of Ronaldo has been as much to do with marketing as it has with coherent playing strategy.

It's also another finger in the direction of Catalonia, since the Brazilian, lest one need to mention it, first came to true European prominence when he spent a wonderful year running riot at the Camp Nou under Bobby Robson.

As for the rest, it's always dangerous to make predictions, as one can look very silly come June - but what the hell, here goes.

The champs Valencia have had an awful pre-season, losing Spain's equivalent of the Community Shield to Deportivo then having all sorts of dirty linen washed in public. Most of it has belonged to Kily Gonzalez, and his increasingly non-relationship with his manager, Rafa Benítez.

Jose Mari: Back with Atletico
(ShaunBotterill/GettyImages)

Hard-man Benítez sent the players for an early shower on Friday afternoon, complaining afterwards the press that the squad had an attitude problem and that he was fed up to the teeth with them. Nevertheless, an awkward-looking opener at Mallorca was successfully navigated, and the 0-2 win will depress those who might have been hoping for the beginnings of a good crisis.

Deportivo, on the other hand, were stuffed 2-4 at home by a rampant Betis, with Joaquín, Spain's rising star, brilliant on the wing. The only blot on Betis' performance was their kit, a figure-hugging green lycra affair which made them all look like they were just out of ballet rehearsal.

Atlético Madrid could be the dark horses. With the wily Luis Aragones on the bench and Jose Mari back from Italy, they may surprise some people. Torres and Correa are two promising youngsters, and the backs-to-the-wall draw at Barcelona in the opening game won't have done their confidence any harm.

Espanyol finished strongly last season as well, and a flutter on them for Europe wouldn't go amiss. And it's nice to see Huelva, Spain's oldest club, back in the top flight for only the second season in their 113-year history - but they will more than likely struggle.

Santander might not survive either, but as far as the other end's concerned, I'm going to stick my neck out and predict a better season for Barcelona - at last rid of Rivaldo and newly furnished with a more fluent midfield (Mendieta, Xavi and Riquelme).

No predictions for the champions, but suffice to say that Madrid might just have flown a bit too close to the sun by signing Ronaldo, and like Icarus before them, there's a long way to fall. Whatever happens, looks to be an interesting little scene brewing down here once again.

Welcome back, Sunday.

Interesting to read what Mr. Ball has to say about Real. The Ronaldo deal didn't sit well with Hierro I knew, but I didn't know that Raul and Morientes were best friends. Hierro and especially Raul must surely dictate policy to Valdano, Perez and anyone else at Real Madrid. That could be an interesting situation this season.

FC Barca11

09-03-2002, 01:56 AM

I agree with both of you. It really is going to be interesting to see how Real Madrid incorporate so many primadonas. I mean they have Raul, Hierro, Roberto Carlos, Figo and Zidane. Is the concept of "team unity" and "team play" possible at all???? And lets not forget the rage Morientes will be venting at Del Bosque and Perez...

BLAUGRANA

09-03-2002, 02:03 AM

Originally posted by FC Barca11
I agree with both of you. It really is going to be interesting to see how Real Madrid incorporate so many primadonas. I mean they have Raul, Hierro, Roberto Carlos, Figo and Zidane. Is the concept of "team unity" and "team play" possible at all???? And lets not forget the rage Morientes will be venting at Del Bosque and Perez...

I think the problems could be with Figo and Ronaldo. Zidane seems to have adapted well to Real. It's funny though, how the Real fans seems to view Figo. I don't think he's very popular with them. We'll see how they take to Ronaldo, especially if he gets hurt and then Morientes comes and scores goals. What would happen when Ronaldo returned? It could get very messy.

Juan

09-03-2002, 07:18 PM

I´ve read some of his columns, and they´re very good :D

psh03

09-04-2002, 05:35 AM

It is a bit harsh to label players such as Raul, Hierro and Zidane as Primadonnas. The way they conduct themselves is very good especially Raul and Hierro standing up for their freind and team mate.

Real could really do football a favour and loan Ronaldo out to some backwoods Scottish third division team. Players would soon learn to behave themselves. An expensive lesson but I doubt Inter wouldn't mind lowering their price to see that!

BLAUGRANA

09-04-2002, 05:41 AM

Originally posted by psh03
It is a bit harsh to label players such as Raul, Hierro and Zidane as Primadonnas. The way they conduct themselves is very good especially Raul and Hierro standing up for their freind and team mate.

Real could really do football a favour and loan Ronaldo out to some backwoods Scottish third division team. Players would soon learn to behave themselves. An expensive lesson but I doubt Inter wouldn't mind lowering their price to see that!

I was talking about Figo and Ronaldo. Raul, Hierro and Zidane aren't so bad with me. Makelele is another one I don't like though.

LOL! Good one. That would be hilarious. Or better yet, the Icelandic first division. See what he thinks of the weather up there. His wife would jet straight back to Milano and the open arms of one Clarence Seedorf. :evil:

psh03

09-04-2002, 03:06 PM

No I know you weren't talking about Raul and co. it was in reference to what Barca 11 said. His comment was probably just ambiguous though.

How true do you think that Seedorf rumour is? I think its garbage but its still funny.

BLAUGRANA

09-04-2002, 04:52 PM

nismo

09-05-2002, 06:06 AM

Originally posted by AZULGRANA
Phil Ball i a correspondant for Soccernet.com and writes a weekly column for them about La Liga and Spanish Football in general. I really like his column and he's quite a good writer. He also wrote the book "Morbo-The Story of Spanish Football". I started this thread because he often comments on Barca, and even if he doesn't it bodes well for us all to read an informed opinion on La Liga and Spanish Football.

So, to begin I'm going to post all of his World Cup columns on the Spanish National team. Enjoy!

l]
i've read most of his columns on the soccernet.com site before
this guys knows a lot of spanish football, from an englishman perspective.
that last one about ronaldo and real, and using icarus as a metaphoric analogy was classic.
with all the "superstars" real have, the bigger they come, the harder they fall

FC Barca11

09-11-2002, 10:26 PM

Originally posted by psh03
No I know you weren't talking about Raul and co. it was in reference to what Barca 11 said. His comment was probably just ambiguous though.

How true do you think that Seedorf rumour is? I think its garbage but its still funny.

Well i was trying to say that with a team full of so many superstars how can they play as a team? Its a little hard for me to picture. Yes Raul and Hierro conduct themselves well with the club, but thats because they are true madristas. Both identify themselves with the club, and its just a true friendship with Morientes that they are trying to hold up. By the way, i'm not sure but what exactly is the "Seedorf Rumour" ?

Juanele

09-11-2002, 10:33 PM

Originally posted by FC Barca11

By the way, i'm not sure but what exactly is the "Seedorf Rumour" ?

Supposedly Seedorf slept with Ronaldo's wife.

BTW, guess where Ronaldo is staying at in Madrid? At Seedorf's house.

FC Barca11

09-12-2002, 03:45 AM

Originally posted by Juanele

Supposedly Seedorf slept with Ronaldo's wife.

BTW, guess where Ronaldo is staying at in Madrid? At Seedorf's house.

jeeeezzzz!!!! Loyalty just doesn't seem to run in Ronaldo or his family....Seedorf eh, hehehe, guess chicks must dig those dreadlocks, watch out boys, there's a new pimp in town, hehehe ;)

nismo

09-12-2002, 04:00 AM

Ronadlo's wife is the town's bike
or in that case Madrid's bike.:D :evil:
maybe that'll teach him a thing or two for being so ungrateful.

BLAUGRANA

09-12-2002, 04:48 AM

Originally posted by Juanele

Supposedly Seedorf slept with Ronaldo's wife.

BTW, guess where Ronaldo is staying at in Madrid? At Seedorf's house.

So you're saying that Ronaldo transferred his wife for a house? :D

hollowi

09-12-2002, 01:52 PM

So you're saying that Ronaldo transferred his wife for a house?

It's not so unlikely to happen :D Remember that we're talking about Ronaldo :evil:

BLAUGRANA

09-16-2002, 06:30 PM

Here's the latest installment guys. Enjoy. This from soccernet:

Monday, September 16, 2002
Rich men, poor men
By Phil Ball

I think it was WH Auden who wrote 'Art is born of humiliation'. Barcelona seem to have proved the aphorism by bouncing back from their rather embarrassing setback in the King's Cup in midweek, when they lost to Novelda, bottom of their regional Segunda 'B'.

It's difficult to make straight comparisons with the English structure, but Novelda, representing a population of some 23,000 folks, would fit in fairly comfortably with the Nationwide Conference scene.

Antonio Madrigal, who scored a hat-trick for them last Wednesday, had almost left the game two years ago when he couldn't find a team to gainfully employ him, but he should now be able to live off his recent exploits for the next couple of years at least.

Meanwhile, Van Gaal, permitting us a rare glimpse into his private life, claimed that his wife could not sleep on the night of the defeat, adding curiously that he slept perfectly well, because 'I have no problems in that area.'

It would seem that the Dutchman, after several weeks of disarmingly charming behaviour, is back to his sensitive best. Maybe his poor wife just couldn't contemplate an immediate return to Holland, after settling down nicely into their comfy new pad in Barcelona.

And she needn't have worried anyway, because the boys in red and blue travelled up to injury-stricken Bilbao at the weekend and won at a trot - the perfect balm to a less than soothing week and a good example of the 'art born of humiliation'.

Top-flight Racing Santander did the same, winning up at Alavés after also losing 3-2 in midweek to Real Unión from Irún - another side from Segunda 'B'.

I went along to the game, on the border of Spain and France, since it offered up some historical interest. Both sides were among the ten founder members of the Spanish professional league inaugurated in February 1929.

And, in the old Estadio Gal, some ten yards back from the goal defended in the first half by Santander on Wednesday night, on what is now a plot of fenced-off wasteground covered in sand and rubble, 'Pitus' Prat of Español became the first player to score a goal in the Spanish league.

He scored after five minutes, handing Real Unión the distinction of being the first side in the country to concede a goal in the now famous league. Both sides went on to earn the further distinction of ending up bottom (Santander) and next to bottom (Real Union) by the end of that first season.

But because the Spanish FA had not been able to agree (surprise surprise) on the criteria for relegation and promotion to the Segunda 'A', neither of them went down and they lived to fight another day.

Santander took most advantage of this reprieve, and finished runners-up to Bilbao two years later - but the year after that saw Real Unión relegated, never to return.

Racing de Santander have since proved a decent sort of side, spending enough time in the top flight to be considered a light-heavyweight - but they have never won any significant titles.

Real Unión, on the other hand, actually won the King's Cup in 1918 and 1924, beating Real Madrid on both occasions, and in 1927, the year before the league officially went professional, they defeated Arenas de Getxo in the final in Zaragoza - still the only occasion on which two Basque sides have met in the final of the Spanish domestic Cup competition - one which has been up and running since 1902.

It was a significant match in the history of Spanish football, representing as it did the country's last sigh of amateurism before the colour of money flowed in to change the mindset for ever. And so I thought I'd go along to see what might transpire.

The new Gal stadium has a couple of stands running parallel with the pitch and a pair of high fences behind the goals to stop the locals from running away with too many of the balls that are skied over the bar by wannabee David Beckhams.

From the press-box the sight-line is a dreary one - a polluted river flanked by rows of anonymous warehouses and factories, and inside the tiny boxed-in ground the Santander players, in their ugly green-and-black hooped rugby shirts, looked like they wanted to be somewhere else.

Pedro Munitis, loaned back to his hometown club by Real Madrid, was the centre of the locals' attention, but the first division side had only pulled in some 1,500 local spectators from off the streets, and the atmosphere was oddly muted.

The first half was awful, despite the mild interest of a 1-2 scoreline, and the whole occasion seemed to confirm the absurdity of football, 22 men huffing and puffing around a piece of leather for no other reason than the fact they were probably not much good at doing anything else.

But then the second half began with the sky pitch black, the crowd warmed by a half-time wine and bocadillo (jumbo sarnie), the floodlights glaring intensely and picking out the colours below - and 22 men were suddenly engaged in something interesting and captivating.

Santander, as is the wont of a top-flight side in such circumstances, began to stroll around as if they considered the game as good as won, and the home side, sensing their chance, began to put their game together. As the night huddled around the little ground, Real Unión equalised and the crowd began to prickle and pout, you realised that you wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

The journalists started talking animatedly to each other, sensing a shock, and the whole place bubbled with the sense of event. Fifteen minutes from the end, Sergio Francisco, a young forward rejected by Real Sociedad two years ago, banged in the winner, the place went wild and you watched 1,500 happy people celebrate something that you know will always stay with them. Great stuff, and thank heaven for football.

Meanwhile, back in the real world, Valencia are back on the top of the league after strolling past newly-promoted Huelva, and Betis and Real Madrid must look for a spare evening in the year to play out the second half of the televised game they began in Seville on Saturday night - a game rudely interrupted by floodlight failure after 43 minutes.

Manuel Ruiz de Lopera, the scary Betis president who modestly named the refurbished stadium after his goodself, was looking unusually sheepish on Sunday morning, explaining to the media from the bowels of the stadium the technicalities of what had gone wrong.

This was the same man who boasted two years ago that his smartly-equipped new stadium would be the 'envy of Europe'. Shame about the basics.

Real Madrid are not amused, since Spanish League regulations require games postponed at or around half-time to be re-started at a later date - from the minute that the game was suspended.

Since the Champions Cup winners expect to be involved in a heavy fixture-pile up this season, they might even have preferred to just call it a day and sacrifice the 3 points. Betis, by the way, were 1-0 up when the fuses blew.

This week the Champions Cup treadmill begins, and the big boys can forget the traumas of their midweek visits to their poorer colleagues, and readjust their sights to the twin prospects of glamour and filthy lucre.

Real Unión, actually celebrating their centenary year, will return to their usual sweaty struggles, but it should not be forgotten that without sides like them the whole circus may never have got under way.

BLAUGRANA

09-24-2002, 12:16 AM

Here's the latest from Mr. Ball. A mention of a certain someone's favorite player too!!! Maybe he's been reading your posts. Anyway, not a bad installation. He seems to think the problem with Barca is the same as what i've been saying of late, finishing off chances. Anyway, here it is:

Monday, September 23, 2002
Revelling in the reign of Spain
By Phil Ball

Few things are certain in life, but one can say without much fear of contradiction that last week was a good one for Spanish football.

Tuesday and Wednesday's performances in the Champions League had the hacks scrabbling through their thesauri to extend their adjective repertoire.

Meanwhile, the statistic-mongers were slobbering over the sudden rush of trivia handed to them by Spain's triumphal showing in Europe - not forgetting the UEFA Cup either, where things went almost as well.

This was the first time that four Spanish teams have all won their opening fixtures in this tournament - a slightly bent statistic when one considers that there have not always been four representatives - but that hardly matters.

The more sides a country has playing, the more the laws of probability suggest that at least one of them will fail to win. But it was not the simple fact of the wins by Real Madrid, Deportivo, Barcelona and Valencia that mattered so much as the manner in which they happened.

Pride of place has to go to Deportivo, whose astonishing 3-2 victory at Bayern Munich represented the first time a Spanish side has ever won at the Germans' ground.

'Super Depor', as they are imaginatively nicknamed, are beginning to make a habit of winning in unlikely places, having done so at both Old Trafford and Highbury in recent seasons.

Not only did the Galician side thoroughly deserve to win, but the performance of Juan Carlos Valerón in midfield has had the papers buzzing all week. The fact that Roy Makaay hit a hat-trick was eclipsed by his team-mate's general contribution - setting up two of the goals and generally making Michael Ballack look like a second-class citizen.

On Sunday, Valerón set up both of Makaay's goals in the 2-0 win over Valladolid before the Bolivian defender Juan Manuel Peña was brought on to do a man-marking job on the Spanish international. Peña took matters on a rather literal level and slid horribly into the slightly-built Valerón within a minute of the re-start.

In a classic act of coherent refereeing, the Bolivian earned a mere yellow card for his sins, whilst Valerón will now be out of the game for two months, just as he was beginning to earn comparisons with Zidane.

After the game in Munich, Paco Garcia Caridad, of Radio Marca, made a rare foray into the fields of eulogy regarding a player who does not play for Real Madrid, insisting that Valerón is not only a better player than Zidane but is the best midfielder to emerge in Spain in the last twenty years.

Well. All this fuss only a fortnight after various voices in the Spanish press were bleating like so many sheep about the alleged incompatibility of Valerón and Raúl in the Spanish national side - a myth nicely shattered by the fact that Valerón also set up Raúl's goal in Greece, then scored the second himself.

As my friend the barman commented the next day, 'Good players are always compatible.'

Valerón is from the Martin Peters school of football - ten years ahead of his time, ten seconds ahead of his opponents, and yet strangely unspectacular, almost anonymous.

What is so encouraging about the praise that the Las Palmas-born player has been receiving is that it shows that the Spanish press, for all their excitability and Madrid-mania, can recognise a good 'un when they see one, and that players do not have to be scoring goals by the bucketful or treating us to so many mazy dribbles to get attention.

Valerón drifts quietly around the pitch keeping it simple, making the right decisions and exploiting that crucial quality that marks out the few - the sudden telling pass delivered from anywhere, at any time.

Deportivo have several forwards who are tuned to his wavelength but, thanks to Mr Peña, they will have to do without him against Rivaldo's AC Milan this week.

Real Madrid didn't look too bad either at Roma, winning 3-0 at a trot and looking insultingly superior to their Italian opponents. Fabio Capello, himself responsible for the nurturing of players such as Guti and Raúl when he was the Bernabéu, had no complaints, denying that there was a crisis at his club and limiting himself to the interesting phrase, 'We lost to the best side in the world'.

Such statements often have a habit of rebounding on their flattered recipients, who begin to bask too much in the glow, but there is something a bit frightening about the European champs this season. Their traditional tendency to start off slowly seems to have been forgotten, and they seem to be wallowing in a luxury of great players.

In Rome, Morientes was left out for Guti, a player who has often promised more than he has delivered - but it seems that the threatening shadows of Ronaldo and Morientes himself have spurred him on to the sort of performance he turned in last Tuesday. Everywhere you looked, Madrid seemed to have something extra.

And how many times in the last hundred years have foreign opponents been applauded off the field in an Italian stadium? God help poor Genk this week when Ronaldo will allegedly tread the hallowed turf of the Bernabéu for the first time in a white shirt. There could be a massacre in the making.

Talking of massacres, although Valencia only beat Liverpool 2-0, the feeling here was that the visitors were pretty much eaten alive. Despite their rather better showing in the second half, they seemed slower in body and thought than the Spanish champions, and appeared particularly bemused by Aimar's opening goal.

Mind you, most teams do come off second best to Valencia these days, who look and perform increasingly like a squad of unfeasibly fit he-men. Don't bet against them meeting Real Madrid again somewhere near the end of this tournament.

Barcelona did just that last season, but they'll have to get a little more ruthless if they're to repeat the feat this time around. Of the four wins, theirs was the least convincing, if only because they should have buried Bruges and been cruising for the last half-hour instead of almost blowing their lead altogether.

Whilst on the subject of Barça, it was an interesting weekend at the Camp Nou, scene of the Catalan derby against Espanyol. The derby itself is not one of Spain's most passionate encounters (Real Madrid's annual visit obviously taking pride of place), but this weekend saw the return of one of the club's most prodigal sons - the 'Little Buddha' Ivan de la Peña.

Of all the enigmas that have baffled football's deeper thinkers over the years, de la Peña takes the biscuit. In Saddam-speak, he is the mother of all enigmas. When he emerged from the youth-team in the mid'-nineties, the little shaven-headed Cantabrian midfielder looked 'a bit special'. His razor-sharp passing was almost supernatural in its accuracy and imagination, and the Catalans loved him.

When a young Ronaldo ran riot for Bobby Robson's Barça in 1996-97, De la Peña showed that he could provide for him. But Robson himself was sceptical and Van Gaal even more so, letting him go to Italy soon after he arrived.

No-one was quite sure what the problem was, but his original mentor, Johan Cruyff once remarked rather ominously that De La Peña was too far ahead of his colleagues - not simply ten years like Martin Peters but rather installed within a different space-time continuum, several light years away.

Unlike Valerón, he was rather unversed in the art of keeping it simple. As such, he triumphed neither in Italy nor in France, and just as it was beginning to look as though nobody wanted him, in came Espanyol.

Fate has an endearing tendency to cook up the sort of scene witnessed in the Camp Nou on Sunday. The little midfielder made his debut for Espanyol, a side politically and socially on the opposite side of the street from a Barçelona side managed once again by Van Gaal - the man responsible for his recent unhappy wanderings through Europe.

He was substituted in the 63rd minute of his side's 2-0 defeat, but the applause he received will have warmed the cockles of his Cantabrian heart. Nice to see him back. I like Valerón too, but give me a good enigma any day.

Bier

09-24-2002, 12:43 AM

Originally posted by AZULGRANA
A mention of a certain someone's favorite player too!!! Maybe he's been reading your posts.

Yeah, Mr. Phill Ball is a regular WSB visitor I reckon. ;) Great article that is, perfectly analyzes the strenghts and the weaks of "Lo Pelat". (the strenghs have heavy overweight in the eyes of any football-romantic, no doubt ;) ) :star:

No-one was quite sure what the problem was, but his original mentor, Johan Cruyff once remarked rather ominously that De La Peña was too far ahead of his colleagues

Johan Cruyff as always had the finger on the point. :star:

BTW here's my personal note to De La Pena's return:
He was not outstanding, not that one could expect that after so much time and in that kind of match, but he proved that he still has it. I began the match with counting De La Pena's passes, soon I got tired of that but it was enough to find out that the first ten passes all met a fellow teammate. He played some brilliant passes, thinking of one for Tamudo right at the beginning in particular that nearly saw Tamudo through and showed that he could be able to lead his team to some successes this season. Another positive experience I've made while watching the derbi was that "Little Buddha" seems to have the full trust of his coach Juande Ramos. He was the only one to take all the freekicks on the pitch. :star:
GO LITTLE BUDDHA ! :)

Bier

09-27-2002, 01:04 PM

... and "Little Buddha" injured himself yesterday in training and therefor can't play for Espanyol this weekend. :(

BLAUGRANA

10-01-2002, 11:20 PM

Here's the latest installment guys. A really good one this week. LOL at what Helguera said to Garcia. LOL also at Garcia's comments. What a nutjob! He even looks like a real bad-ass! :bloody: Enjoy.

Monday, September 30, 2002
Of big mouths and little men
By Phil Ball

I think it was in the film 'The Cowboys' that John Wayne decided to bring a cocky young cow-hand down a peg or two.

'Big mouth don't make a big man' he sneered - a neat little phrase of which Osasuna's defensive midfielder Pablo García should take heed. After fighting a running battle with Ivan Helguera and Fernando Hierro in the Bernabéu during Osasuna's last game-but-one, the Uruguayan admitted to the press in midweek that he had 'offered Helguera out' at the end of the game, to settle their differences in the club car-park.

When asked to elaborate, the midfielder launched into a testosterone-fuelled rant on the true nature of football, the universe and everything, affirming that he liked to 'put the boot in hard' and that football was 'war'. And given that football is war, argued García, there are no limits on a player's behaviour, and 'everything counts, just so long as it contributes to a win.'

Apart from the fact that García seemed to have forgotten about the Geneva Convention, Osasuna actually lost the game 4-1, and lost again this weekend, 2-3 at home to their Basque brothers Real Sociedad. García managed to behave himself (relatively), having been told by his team-mates on Thursday to 'measure his words' a little more carefully, but his 'everything counts' attitude has not, so far, been bearing much fruit in terms of points (Osasuna have just one, after 4 games). Indeed, García himself has racked up far more points with the Spanish Anti-Violence Committee who are studying his words most carefully and will hopefully take action this week..

The Roy Keane syndrome has been spreading like a virus through Spanish fields recently, ably abetted by the traditional incompetence of the men in black.

García was finally booked in the Bernabéu in the 89th minute, having spent the previous 88 kicking out and provoking - although apparently Helguera started it by asking him as they lined up for a corner 'God you're crap! Who signed you?' Be that as it may, Garcia's ridiculous posturing and Juan Mañuel Peña' appalling foul on Deportivo's Valerón - also meriting a mere yellow card - have left their mark on the week just gone.

Deprived of their man of the moment, Deportivo went from the sublime to the proverbial in their quest for European glory, and a week after winning at Bayern went down 0-4 at home to a pumped-up AC Milan. With manager Irureta insisting that the midfielder's absence had nothing to do with the defeat, Depor indeed bounced back this weekend, winning 2-1 at Alavés, with Diego Tristán back on the scoresheet. It would probably be unwise to write them off just yet.

Talking of large vocal cavities, Pedrag Mijatovic, the infamous 'Ferrari Boy' of mid-nineties Real Madrid, he of the slicked-back hair and a girl in every port - is back in the Spanish league, over at Second Division Levante.

This weekend he got his second goal for the club since arriving on a salary which exceeds the entire annual budget of his opponents for the day, little Eibar from the deepest Basque Country. Mijatovic, like Ronaldo, doesn't really need to score goals for his new club, his mere presence being sufficient to get the tills ringing. Since he was signed the season-ticket holders have doubled in number, from 3 ,000 to 6,000.

For the first home game, 12,000 turned up (9,000 above the average). Of all the players who were accused of contributing to Real Madrid's 'chulo' (spiv) image of the mid-nineties - Suker, Seedorf, Karembeu to name but three, the finger was most consistently pointed at Mijatovic.

To be fair to the Yugoslav, part of the reason for his moving from Florence to live in Valencia has been to be with his son, suffering from a crippling hydrocephalic condition. But his return to the Spanish league has revived some old ghosts, and has thankfully taken some of the focus away from the top-flight this week, after the increasingly annoying 'will-he-won't-he?' saga of Ronaldo, in which the player continues to do a passable imitation of a 2-thirds Julius Caesar - coming, seeing, but as yet not conquering.

Having primed the press for the great one's Spanish 2nd Coming last Week against Genk, a bit of muscle trouble sidelined our hero, who also failed to appear for the weekend's draw at Valladolid. No matter. The poor Belgians were dispatched to the tune of 6-0, and the Brazilian's shirts continue to sell, despite his continued absence. Last week, sales of the item reached 70,000 - not bad at 72 Euros a throw. If he actually manages to play this season, they'll be working overtime in the sweatshops.

Barcelona were certainly sweating down in Huelva's new stadium, to which Betis had been temporarily exiled because of crowd-trouble at the Seville derby last season.

The 'Quinta de Joaquín' ran Van Gaal's lot ragged, and darkened the skies that had been brightening over the Camp Nou after the excellent win at Galatasaray in midweek.

Betis, traditionally Seville's working-class club, formed in 1909 by renegade members of Sevilla who were incensed by that club's refusal to sanction the signing of a working-class player from the Triana district, are the new season's talking-point, the new darlings of the press.

Even before they took Barça apart, several members of the press had been using the sacred phrase 'La Quinta de Joaquín', a complex expression understood by all Spanish football followers, but one slightly more opaque for foreign watchers. The 'quinta' has nothing to do with the number 5, but comes from military parlance, meaning 'call-up' or 'draft'.

In Spanish culture it refers to the group of buddies that you made during your year of National Service, the guys you peeled your spuds with. The phrase reached its apotheosis in the 'Quinta del Buitre' (The Vulture's Gang), a magical expression in the annals of this country's football, referring to the five players who emerged from Real Madrid's youth teams of the early 1980's, one of whom was Emilio Butragueño, 'The Vulture' - so named for his habit of feeding off the scraps caused by the actions of others, chiefly the other members of his 'quinta'.

These players, particularly Michel, Martin Vásquez and Sanchís, went on to form one of the capital's best ever sides, and the phrase is not to be used lightly. The other fact to note of the phrase is that it means that the players are local, or that they have been brought up through the nursery sides.

For Real Madrid, famous for their big-name signings from the 1930's onwards, the historical importance of the 'quinta' resided in the fact that the players were local, apart from Miguel Pardeza, from Huelva. But he had also come through the ranks, so no matter.

Nowadays, with the ranks of foreigners swelling the league, a local 'quinta' is indeed something to celebrate. Hence the significance of the fact that the young Betis winger Joaquín has been christened with a 'quinta' all of his own, surrounded by five players who were either born in Seville or who came up through Betis B.

The players in question are the defenders Varela (just called up by the national side), Juanito, David Rivas, midfielder 'Arzu' (Arturo García) and 'Capi' (Jesus Capitán), also called up this week after earning rave reviews. Last but not least is Joaquín, actually born in Cádiz, but a product of the 'cantera' (literally the 'quarry', the youth-team).

Since breaking into the public consciousness in Korea, the likeable, slightly tubby young winger has been almost permanently in the public eye, but the fuss, for a change, is more than justified.

Like a cross between Willie Morgan and John Robertson (if you're old enough to remember), Joaquín is sticking to the right touchline and re-igniting the dying art of the 'right-winger'.

For those who love their dribblers, Seville is the place to be this season. Barça simply couldn't handle him, and his goal, Betis' second, was like something out of a schoolboy's comic-book. Great stuff.

But to sound a word of caution, and to return to the theme of the first half of this article, it may be only so long before the hatchet-men hunt him down.

BLAUGRANA

10-08-2002, 06:20 PM

Tuesday, October 8, 2002
A tale of two cities
By Phil Ball

I was over in Galicia at the weekend to see Deportivo La Coruña stutter to a 0-2 halt against the rather more modest Racing Santander.

The last time Santander were featured in this column they had just been humiliated by Third Division Real Unión in the King's Cup. But on Sunday they looked to be made of sterner stuff.

Depor's feared attack of Tristán and Makaay never got a sniff, and well before the end the crowd were collectively praying for the return of Valerón. Alas, the great man is still on crutches, and Depor's two-pronged attack looked decidedly starved of provisions.

To make matters worse, neighbours Celta's last-minute goal at Valencia put them on top of the league just hours before the strokes of midnight marked the official beginning of a holiday in Coruña to mark the day of the city's patron, Nuestra Señora del Rosario.

Celta are Galician too, and hail from the slightly larger city of Vigo, well south of Coruña and practically bordering the north-western tip of Portugal. But it's a different sort of city, and part of the reason for my visit was to work out what the two communities thought of each other.

Walking along the prom in Coruña you notice two things straight away. The first one is the football ground itself, the Riazor stadium, which looks like a giant clam from the outside. There are not too many grounds in Europe which literally sit next to the beach, but in Coruña it seems appropriate somehow.

The sea determines everything here - the work, the culture, the weather, the food - and the ground stands there impassively, its walls curled up against the vicious winds that can batter this coast, ominously known in the local Gallego lingo as 'A costa da morte' (The Coast of Death) because of its famous unfriendliness to the shipping fraternity.

For the medieval pilgrims, this was the end of the world, and anything west of Coruña is pretty wild and forbidding. Riazor, built in 1944 but remodelled for the '82 Spanish World Cup was for many years a three-sided stadium, the open side giving onto the sea.

In 1949 the forward Rafael Franco succeeded in beating the Real Madrid goalkeeper with a ferocious shot, only to see the ball whipped back down the pitch by a sudden gale. Madrid won 0-3, prompting talk of divine intervention a full four years before the arrival of Alfredo di Stéfano.

In 1997 a stand was finally built where a wall had been improvised for the '82 World Cup, and the ground is now quite snug inside, the four walls rising up quite steeply from the lush green pitch. It rains a lot in Galicia too.

But back to the promenade and the second thing you notice. In San Sebastián, where I had flown from, the folks do their 'paseo' (evening stroll) in order to have a look at each others' fur coats.

In Coruña people sit around on the sea walls or on the rocks and stare out to sea, as if they expect Francis Drake to turn up again and sack the city. A contemplative lot, the Galicians.

Indeed, whereas the Basque and the Catalan languages have lent to standard Spanish the vocabulary of games and food, the Gallegos have provided the wonderful word 'morriña', meaning homesickness, or 'longing'.

Behind the word is the traditional custom of the men going to sea and the women and children staying behind to work the land.

They also went west by the boatload (via Vigo) during harsher times in search of work and a better life, but now that things are looking up it's alleged that a substantial percentage of Argentina's unemployed population has had an attack of morriña and wants to come home.

No wonder that Depor are currently looking at plans by the architect Peter Eisenman to build a new stadium to cater for this potential new influx of converts from River Plate and Boca Juniors.

Eugenio, who writes for the 'Xornal Depor' publication, has his head in his hands after Javi Guerrero slips behind the defence and pokes the ball past Molina to open the scoring for Santander.
'That was Donato's fault,' he proclaims to the eerie silence. 'He's getting too old. The young lad's given him the slip'.

Donato, the Brazilian defender who seems to have been at the club for ever is now almost 40, which, according to the tabloid Marca, makes him the oldest player to have ever performed in the Spanish league.

But the goal was more a result of the whole defence moving out too slowly. Donato's innocent. I decide to ask about Celta. Eugenio has a beard and looks like the virtuous sailor on the old Players' cigarette packets. He looks like the kind of guy who might warm to the subject.

'Ah well, you see Vigo's a different place. They don't like us much up here. They think we're señorios (snooty). It's more industrial down there, and so there's that working-class thing. Coruña's got more service industry now and so they think we don't work.

'They come on holiday here too, so they think we spend all our lives on the beach. There's a refrain that they have down there - "Mientras Vigo trabaja, Coruña relaja" (While Vigo works, Coruña relaxes). But anyway - we won the league in 2000. They've never forgiven us.' I ask if there is trouble between the supporters. He nods vigorously;

'Sure is. Always has been. The derby is a high-risk game. When Celta come here there's always trouble from their ultras. It's amazing really, because we're all Gallegos.

'And when we go down there to report, they always treat us coldly - I don't know. Then again, they probably say the same about us.

'And it affects lots of things. In summer, when Valery Karpin [the Russian] was out of contract at Celta, there was talk of him coming here to Depor. They put up an opinion thing up on the website and all the fans here said no - because he's always been so anti-Depor. So he went back to Real Sociedad and did his glad-to-be-back stuff there. They're welcome to him.'

Eugenio goes back to his reporting and Santander eventually score their second, after threatening to do so for some time.

The result spoils a statistical party too - for if Depor had won it would have been their 400th victory in the big-time. Manager Irureta would have equalled legendary manager Arsenio's record of 84 wins (and in less time), all on Roy Makaay's 100th game for the club. But Santander have pooped the party, and deservedly so.

FIFA rated Depor as the world's 4th best club last season - some achievement for a team whose urban hinterland numbers a mere 250,000 and whose president, Augusto Lendoiro, came from the poorer world of politics, not business.

But today, Depor don't even look like the 400th best team, and their manager, Javier Irureta, looks glum at the press conference, down in the subterranean bowels of the stadium. He has a hang-dog, lugubrious expression, like a basset hound.

A journalist asks him what went wrong. 'Nothing' he replies, shrugging. 'Santander played well'.

The journalist looks unconvinced and presses him further: 'But we win one week, and then the next we lose. It's always the same. Isn't there anything you're worried about?'

Irureta brightens up slightly. 'Look', he says, casting the journalist a tired expression. 'I've got the best squad in Spain and tomorrow's a holiday. What am I supposed to be worried about?' The assembled throng laughs and all is forgiven.

On the plane home the gentleman next to me turns out to be a Real Sociedad employee, over for the match on a scouting mission.

'Looking for defenders I guess?' I open, looking to kickstart the conversation. Real Sociedad have scored 15 in 5 games, but conceded 9. 'That would be telling' he smiles.

Undaunted, I decide to try to change the destiny of Spanish football: "Hey - Donato's contract is up at the end of the season. He'd come over for nothing!'.

Remember - you read it here first.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nice installment this time. I would have hoped for more on Celta Vigo, particularly their perspective. I knew much of what he had to say about Depor already. They really do have the potential to be a big/bigger European club if they keep up the form they've shown over the past couple of seasons.

psh03

10-09-2002, 08:04 AM

I agree about Celta but they will need to find a long-term replace for the Czar. With Barca and Depor both struggling Celta could steal a CL place for next season.

BLAUGRANA

10-09-2002, 04:33 PM

Originally posted by psh03
I agree about Celta but they will need to find a long-term replace for the Czar. With Barca and Depor both struggling Celta could steal a CL place for next season.

Agreed. They don't have the CL commitments that Barca and Depor have. While they do have the Uefa Cup, that isn't nearly as strenuous as the CL is over the course of the season. Yet, when considering the three sides I think Depor and probably Barca will finish ahead of Celta when the day is done.

hollowi

10-09-2002, 06:44 PM

the midfielder launched into a testosterone-fuelled rant on the true nature of football, the universe and everything, affirming that he liked to 'put the boot in hard' and that football was 'war'. And given that football is war, argued García, there are no limits on a player's behaviour, and 'everything counts, just so long as it contributes to a win.'

LOL what a guy. He should be rather a comedian than a footballer! :D

BLAUGRANA

10-09-2002, 08:25 PM

Originally posted by hollowi

LOL what a guy. He should be rather a comedian than a footballer! :D

LOL. He really made some funny comments. He really does sound like a nutjob. You should have seen his picture. He looks like a serial killer or something. While I don't condone dirty tackles or dirty play, I love that sort of tough tackling player. I love Roy Keane and like the way he and Davids really like to mix it up.

psh03

10-11-2002, 02:16 AM

Celta will be a good chance, especially if Valeron's injury is long term. They are only a shaddow of the team they were last season when Valeron was destroying teams. I suppose Betis and Athletico Madrid are also capable of finishing top four.

BLAUGRANA

10-15-2002, 02:07 AM

Wow. :eek: Sounds like one hell of a rivalry. And I thought the Barca fans throwing cell phones onto the pitch when Figo came back for the first time was bad.

Tuesday, October 15, 2002
Healthy rivalry?
By Phil Ball

It's been a relatively quiet week on the football front here in rain-swept Spain. Real Madrid sold another 40,000 Ronaldo shirts, the national side strolled past an embarrassingly poor Northern Ireland on Saturday night (goalkeeper Casillas was caught on camera stifling a yawn in the second half)...

And of course, when there is a lull in the league action, there's always a good chance to focus on the less salubrious side of things.

Last week at the Seville derby in the Sánchez Pizjuán, the visiting goalkeeper, Prats, was attacked by a Betis fan during the game, and before the kick-off a guard contracted from the private firm Prosegur was set upon by Sevilla fans and beaten up so badly he had to be hospitalised.

Antonio Orrego was one of 150 private guards brought in for the game, always considered 'high risk' on the Spanish football calendar. The main problem was that none of them intervened - or was able to intervene - whilst their colleague Orrego was set upon by half a dozen thugs after he had tried to stop them interfering with the Betis warm-up from behind the goal.

The attack was recorded on camera and the footage has been shown all over Europe. It doesn't make for family viewing, especially the part where one of the youths picks up a handy crutch from behind the billboards and begins to pummel the guard over the head.

The incidents have sparked off several debates this week about the nature of Spanish society, the nature of its football and the sort of punishment that should be meted out to Sevilla for not preventing the little circus.

The FEF (Federación Española de Fútbol) stuck to their threat of closing the ground for four games and fining the club (3,500 Euros), but Sevilla have appealled nevertheless - arguing that the measures they took were those recommended by the FEF themselves and that 'there's only so much you can do', to quote the words of José María del Nido, the President of Sevilla.

He may be right. Whatever the sociologists wish to make of the incidents, the Seville derby has always had something special, some mysterious needle that is particularly hard to fathom.

I spent several days there a couple of years ago, researching the phenomenon for my book 'Morbo', and yet I found it almost impossible to get anyone to admit that there was a problem. One phrase from a taxi-driver was particularly memorable, given the torrid history of encounters between the two clubs.

'Es una rivalidad sana' (It's a healthy rivalry) he told me, adding that it was perfectly normal for different family members to support either of the clubs.

He, and several other people I spoke to all maintained that it was a thing between the 'ultras', the right-wing gangs that have made the rivalry their own cause celebre by giving themselves names, identities and public notoriety, rescuing themselves from anonymity.

The only problem with this idea is that it is not exclusive to Spain - and Spain, by and large, has not really lived through the football trials and tribulations suffered by other countries in Europe, such as England, Germany and Holland.

Spanish supporters, for example, do not travel to watch their national side with the sole intention of sacking the host city and engaging in mortal combat with its citizens. Within Spain too, the distances between many clubs and the still rather backward train network means that there is a relatively undeveloped 'awayday' culture.

Another curious trait of the Spanish is that they use the word 'hooligans' to refer exclusively to English supporters, whereas their own troublemakers are always referred to as 'ultras' - a word that has a more political resonance to it.

Thereby hangs the key to the Spanish scene. Almost all the needle hanging around the football scene dates from the Civil War and in certain cases goes further back in time. In the case of Betis and Seville, the causes seem to be clearly of a socio-political nature, Betis traditionally viewing itself as the 'working-class' club from the city's harder suburbs, and Sevilla playing the role of the more bourgeois, more middle-class institution.

In the late 1940's, with Sevilla in the ascendancy and Betis in the 2nd Division, Francisco Antúnez, the manager of the latter was tempted across the city to take up the reins at the richer club. Radio Moscow, on hearing of the transfer, declared: 'Sevilla, the capitalist team of the city, have trampled upon their noble proletarian neighbours Betis, abusing the power handed to them by the fascist Francoist regime.'

You don't get this kind of stuff in England, and judging by the scenes last week the smouldering resentment between the two social communities in Seville is still very much alive - even if the simplification of 'working-class' and 'middle-class' will always annoy the sociologists.

The fact that there exists a kind of omerta in the city regarding the issue does not mean that the citizens don't feel some sort of 'us and them' situation. And the Spanish have long memories.

In 1918, on the eve of a regional cup play-off between Sevilla and Betis, the guards at the barracks where five of the Betis players were doing their military service locked the gates and allowed no-one to leave. In protest, Betis sent out their junior team the next day and were stuffed 22-0.

Sevilla fans still chant the score on derby days and when Manuel Ruíz de Lopera first took over as president of Betis, he refused to allow any squad player to wear the number 22 shirt.

Of course, the self-made Lopera has brought money and status to Betis, turning them into the city's principal power, but when the temperature drops, the fur coats will still be seen exclusively at the Sánchez Pizjuán.

Back in 1978 there was the famous 'complot de Alicante' when Sevilla, safely tucked up in the middle of the table, allegedly threw their final game of the season against struggling Hercules (from Alicante), thus relegating their neighbours Betis.

More recently, at the end of the 1999-2000 season in which both sides went down, the last game of the season was to prove even more scandalous. Sevilla were already down, but Betis could escape if Oviedo lost their last game... away to Sevilla.

By half-time, Oviedo, whose forwards had been shot-shy all season, suddenly found themselves 3-0 up. In an act of Monty Pythonesque proportions, Sevilla took off their best player - Norwegian goalkeeper Frode Olsen - who because he had clearly misunderstood instructions (his Spanish was still poor) was throwing himself around heroically to stem the tide of Oviedo attackers bearing freely down upon him.

He failed to emerge for a second half in which Sevilla scored a couple of token goals, but Betis went down. They protested as they fell, but no-one was listening.

Seville, with its bullfighting, its monuments and its fiestas is for many the true heart of Spain, the pulse of the country. Real Madrid v Barcelona may be the world's most famous footballing rivalry, but if you wanted to see some visceral in-your-face noise and passion, the Seville derby's the place to be.

It's just a pity that at the moment, when both sides are actually serving up some exciting and entertaining fare, the eyes of Europe have focused on the city for all the wrong reasons. 'Rivalry' yes - but I'm not so sure about the 'healthy' bit.

Juanele

10-15-2002, 06:39 AM

Originally posted by AZULGRANA
Wow. :eek: Sounds like one hell of a rivalry. And I thought the Barca fans throwing cell phones onto the pitch when Figo came back for the first time was bad.

The Barça-Madrid rivalry nowadays is nothing compared to Sevilla-Betis. As the author pointed out, this is where the true passions come out. I'm not saying it's good but it is really intense.

Bier

10-15-2002, 01:27 PM

My purpose is that the smaller the clubs are the more passion and agression (caused mainly by frustration) the fans put into the derbies. Don't misunderstand me ... I don't want to call any of the sevillian clubs small, Betis for example has about breathtaking 40000 members but they are small in comparison to Barça and Real.
Another example wich fits more to my hypothesis is the derby of my hometown VfB Leipzig vs. FC Sachsen Leipzig. After several derbies I had the pleasure (though it did rather seldomly turn out to be one indeed) to see live I came to the conclusion that there's no rivalry in world football with that tremendous intense of hatred. Just to make this more objective to you: Imagine Barça taking on Real in the Champions League-final in a stadium with 10000 people ... 5000 of them are Ultra-Surs, 4500 of them are Boixos Nois (given that both groups have an extremely bad and agressive day) and only 500 are peaceful visitors ( I for example was sitting next to a rival fan and we did not harm each other ... okay his side won and I generally am a peaceful person ;) ) . Add some rassistic chants and fashistic paroles, an overhelmed police that doesn't control the happenings as they should and no fence or border between Boixos and Ultras in one Fanblock, as well as a hughe lot of firework and banners with additional fascist expressions and you have a wonderful Leipzig-derby. Both sides play 4rth Division by the way. :eek:
Now you see me ashamed to tell that my favoured side here in Leipzig is VfB and our hooligans are far worse then those of FC Sachsen. But I support this team nearly as long as I support Barça (since 1994) and I don't wanna change it because of those racist baboons!

BLAUGRANA

10-22-2002, 02:24 AM

Here's the latest. Sociedad have Darko Kovacevic and other foreign signings that he i'm surprised he didn't mention.

Tuesday, October 22, 2002
Basque ups and downs
By Phil Ball

Interesting to see Real Sociedad back at the top of the Spanish First Division after three angst-ridden seasons in its nether regions.

No-one was expecting this sudden turn-about of fortunes, least of all the club itself, accused a couple of years ago by ex-national manager Javier Clemente as 'lacking guts' and being 'natural pessimists'.

Clemente, now spending his days on the golf course, was controversially employed by the club three seasons ago when they sacked the German Bernd Krauss. Clemente made his name first as player and then as manager of Basque cousins Athletic Bilbao in the 1980s, and steered them to their last league title in 1984 - the last time that a Basque side won the Spanish championship.

Bilbao is the largest and most industrialised of the Basque cities and is in the Vizcayan region, whereas Real Sociedad hail from the more service-oriented region of Gipuzcoa. When Clemente was handed a contract by Real Sociedad, there was much muttering abroad, most of it concerning the signing of 'an enemy'.

The facile idea that the Basque Country is some sort of culturally homogenous homeland was nicely exposed by the suspicion of Sociedad's supporters towards the pugnacious little Clemente, and he only lasted just over a season. His cat-and-dog relationship with the Gipuzcoan press culminated in his accusation that the region was 'pessimistic' and cynical, whereas Vizcaya was more 'alegre' (happy) and forward-looking.

Fast forward to October 2002 and the nail-biting has shifted firmly from San Sebastian to Bilbao. Athletic, so keen on promoting themselves as the region's major club, find themselves down near the bottom of the table, surrounded by cousins Alavés and Osasuna, with Sociedad threatening to disappear over the horizon.

Of course, it's early days yet, and Raynald Denoueix's team will have to tighten up at the back if they seriously wish to aspire for the title, but it's strange the difference that a few summer months can make.

Three weeks ago, Jupp Heynckes, Bilbao's German manager in his second spell with the club, lost his temper with the local press after they complained of his tactical 'anarchy', responding with the unfortunate claim that he was a 'luxury' for the club, adding that they should appreciate the fact that they had such a distinguished manager at the helm.

He was forced to apologise three days later after the furore that his words caused, and he may yet live to regret his faux pas if the results continue to be poor.

Folks from Bilbao are famous for their special sense of identity and their often misplaced and overweening self-confidence - but the rest of Spain has a grudging sort of affection for them, especially Spanish football historians who know that the club was the country's dominant force up the Civil War in 1936.

Times have changed, but the club still regard themselves as special. The fact that Heynckes won a European Cup as manager of Real Madrid did not give him the right to patronise such an historically great club, and there remains a feeling that he will never be forgiven for his misjudgement.

The whole scene in the Basque Country is as fascinating as it is complex, and woe betide the visiting journalist who thinks he or she can get a quick-fix conclusion from a few day's analysis.

This season's major theme so far, apart from Sociedad's great start and Bilbao's internal doldrums, was the signing by the current leaders of Boris, a young Spanish defender from Oviedo.

Sociedad broke ranks with Bilbao back in the late 1980's when they signed John Aldridge from Liverpool, effectively closing the door on their own Basque-only policy. Since then, foreign players have arrived (and left) in cartloads, whilst Athletic Bilbao have doggedly pursued their century-old practice of only employing the sons of the region's fertile soil.

But the signing of Boris by Real is the first time that they have taken on a 'Spanish' player - foreign signings having been previously regarded as less politically awkward. A straw-poll amongst supporters last week revealed that only 7 per cent of the club's supporters were 'preoccupied' by the signing, but when you're top of Europe's best league, you can afford to be a bit more tolerant.

Boris made his debut as a first-choice defender in this weekend's 2-2 draw in the derby with Alavés, and the event seemed to pass by almost unnoticed. This comes as something of a relief, since the club's policy in the past has smacked of xenophobia towards Spain, as if the country's players were somehow racially and culturally unworthy of representing a Basque institution.

It's an awkward little issue, and one that has attracted occasional sideways glances at Bilbao's exclusionary policy which at first sight looks even more radical. Foreign managers like Heynckes and Howard Kendall have always been part of the scene, but the players have been Basque since time immemorial.

It looks like a cute piece of cultural heroism, standing firm and alone as the howling winds of European federalism and multi-ethnicity blow all around, but it rather depends which side of the fence you're standing.

And when things start to go wrong at the 'Cathedral' - as Athletic's San Mamés ground has always been nicknamed, the club always seem to want to have it both ways.

Heynckes, a few days before his infamous 'luxury' speech, claimed that the team's bad start was a reflection of the fact that the club had an inadequate playing staff, limited as it was by the Basque-only policy. 'If Barcelona only had Catalans playing, ask yourself where they would be in the league' he protested.

This was a fair point, but ultimately an irrelevant one. Barcelona's claim to being the flagship of Catalan culture has a slightly hollow ring to it nowadays, but Athletic cannot slap themselves on the back when times are good, then complain about the slings and arrows when things go awry.

Their own often patronising attitude towards Real Sociedad's signing of foreigners ignores the fact that it was their own poaching of the all the best Basque talent that forced their cousins to open up the ethnic doors in the first place.

Complicated indeed - but to return to a purely football-based observation, Athletic's permanent presence in the top flight since La Liga was inaugurated in 1929 is nothing short of a miracle, and political correctness should never be allowed to detract from this fact.

Real Sociedad's great start has also had the papers singing their praises, several of them pointing to the fact that it is 21 years since they led the league table by one point or more - the very season (1981-82) when they won their second consecutive title.

They've scored 17 goals in 6 games, and seem to have discovered a new star in the speedy little Turkish forward Nihat, a player whom Toshack brought over from Besiktas last season. The Welshman was sacked soon after, but his eye for a player has proved as unerring as ever, and the Turk is attracting all sorts of plaudits.

Elsewhere, the big boys were falling like flies. Barcelona, Celta, Deportivo and Real Madrid all lost games that they were expected to win - if such a phrase is really valid these days, and Madrid's defeat at Santander was particularly interesting, given that the home side's second goal was scored by local hero Pedro Munitis, currently loaned out by the team that he sunk.
Not only is he on loan from Madrid but they are also stumping up 70 per cent of his wages. There was some controversy during the week prior to the game, since there was no written agreement that Munitis would not turn out against his official employers - a legal loophole that Santander decided to exploit.

Madrid, as far as is known, did not object, and since Munitis was up for it (he claims that he was cold-shouldered by the club last season) they wrote him onto the teamsheet. Inevitably, he scored, and should Madrid lose the title by three points this season, little Munitis is unlikely to be returning to the capital in a hurry.

funky6

10-22-2002, 09:13 AM

Heynckes, a few days before his infamous 'luxury' speech, claimed that the team's bad start was a reflection of the fact that the club had an inadequate playing staff, limited as it was by the Basque-only policy. 'If Barcelona only had Catalans playing, ask yourself where they would be in the league' he protested.

And that's the great about Barça.The fact that the club has found the balance between tradition and Catalan pride(NOOOOOOOO SPONSOOOOOORS) and being modern and international in the same time throughout it's history.

I guess a lot of Basques might be acusing Barça for this but it's Athletic's decision not to use any foreigners.It's kind of strange though cause they do use foreign coaches.There's also a thin line between pride for who you are and nationalism.(no offence here,i totally respect Basques and Athletic)

Ofcourse i don't think that the difference between the two clubs is just that.Even with a different policy Athletic wouldn't even be the half of how big and proud Barça are.:D :D :D

BLAUGRANA

11-04-2002, 02:44 PM

A bit disappointing this week. Here it is:

Monday, November 4, 2002
Crisis, what crisis?
By Phil Ball

In the context of Spanish football, the word 'crisis' is strictly a relative term. Real Madrid have now gone six league games without a win, eight months without an away win and lost in the Bernabéu last week to an Italian side for the first time in European competition since 1967.

After a rather inconclusive draw up in rainy Coruña on Saturday night, when the collective breath of much of the country (and a couple of Spanish insurance companies) was inhaled on Ronaldo's behalf as he fell awkwardly in the second half, the word 'crisis' - spelt the same in Spanish - is being bandied about the press with the usual abandon.

Madrid can't defend any more, they rely too much on Raúl, Hierro is too slow, they've lost their shape with Ronaldo, Raúl has fallen out with the President and so on and so forth. Worse than that, Real Sociedad are leaders, a full seven points ahead of them, with only eight games gone.

All this may be true, but when you treat yourself to a Sunday out at Osasuna v Huelva - a game played in the same league, although not ostensibly in the same universe, you begin to get more of a perspective on things.

There were 14,904 spectators in El Sadar, Osasuna's compact little ground on the southern outskirts of Pamplona, the city more famous for its San Fermín festival than for the exploits of its football team.

The visitors, on a chilly late autumn evening, had come up all the way from the south-western corner of Andalucía, and were probably feeling the nip in the Navarran air. Recreativo de Huelva, the first institution in Spain to form itself into something known as a football club, way back in 1889, had come up on a 'six-pointer'.

Their hosts had five points from seven games, and lay 17th in the table, three places above their historical selves, propping up the rest with a mere two. The last time that 'Recre', as they are affectionately known in Spain, were up in Pamplona was for the last game of the 1999-2000 season. The game ended 2-1, whereupon Osasuna went up to the First Division, where they have been struggling ever since.

The same result condemned Recre to 21st place and relegation to the dreaded 2nd Division B - a fate from which they were spared by the financial irregularities of Mérida, who went down in their place.

Talk about 'Don't look back'. The next season they surprised everyone by finishing sixth, and last season sprung a major shock by securing third berth and a place among the elite for only the second year in their 113 year history.

Of course, that one memorable 1978-79 season for the club represented a mere waving of the torchlight in the vaster darkness of their history.

Although they were the first club to form in Spain, their major achievement has been the cultivation of a sort of conspicuous absence. Cut off from the growing infrastructure of Spain, overshadowed by neighbours Sevilla and Betis, and neglected as a community once the copper mines of the Rio Tinto region dried up, most folks seemed to have forgotten about Recre until this season, when they made their unexpected reappearance.

“ Any eleven players from Real Madrid's swollen squad this season who were sitting out the Deportivo match on Saturday could have taken either of these two teams to the cleaners and back. ”

My own relationship with the club goes back some three years when I visited the city to research the opening chapter of a book on the history of Spanish football.

I was invited to a game against Villareal - now also back in the top flight - and poor old Recre went down that day to the tune of 1-4. Three years later almost to the day I decided to renew acquaintance with them, albeit in the chillier surroundings of an autumnal Pamplona.

And this time I turned out to be the talisman, Recre running out 0-1 winners against an Osasuna side low on technique and confidence.

The goal, a penalty scored five minutes from the end, was nevertheless rough justice on the hosts, for in truth the visitors had looked extremely lightweight up front and had hardly threatened. The game was poor, and lent the lie to the idea that Real Madrid are going through a crisis.

Although it's early days to start nailing too many coffin lids down, it will come as a major surprise if either of these sides manages to pull out of the relegation zone this season.

Recreativo were there for the taking, but Osasuna had neither the flair nor the nous to take the three points on offer. The air of almost hostile desperation exhibited by their fans towards the end was not a particularly pretty sight.

Any eleven players from Real Madrid's swollen squad this season who were sitting out the Deportivo match on Saturday could have taken either of these two teams to the cleaners and back - which is hardly surprising when you consider the comparisons in finance.

Recreativo, despite a spanking new municipal stadium, have an annual budget of 3.3 million Euros - roughly half as much as Real Madrid have already made this season on Ronaldo's shirt sales. It's a wicked old world, and in the end it's eleven men against eleven, but sometimes the cards are too stacked. And if this is really the world's top league then some of the stuff at its bottom end can sometimes look pretty wretched.

But Huelva had reasons to be cheerful on the long journey home. After all, this was their first win in Division One of the Spanish league since June 2nd 1979, when they beat Espanyol 3-1 at home before returning to the more familiar surroundings of the Second Division 'A'.

Outside the press area, long after the game had finished, the players were still giving each other high-fives in an atmosphere of near ecstasy.

I approached the defender José Galán, the only player left from the 1-4 debacle at home to Villareal three years ago, and showed him the programme that I had kept from that evening, as a souvenir.

He seemed slightly confused. 'Do you want me to sign it?' he asked. 'No, no' I stuttered, slightly embarrassed. 'I just wanted you to know that you don't lose every time I come to watch you'.

He turned to a ruck of his team mates and shouted 'Hey! Get this guy some free tickets. He can come to every game!'

BLAUGRANA

11-12-2002, 01:15 AM

Here's the latest installment. A very good installment at that. Unfortunately, our beloved club seems to be in greater turmoil than I would suggest. Here's to hoping it's a bit exaggerated. I hope we win el clasico and prove Mr. Ball wrong. And what of that Ronaldo nonsense? Can you believe that there are actually some fools out there who think he should win the award? :rolleyes: I'll be furious if he does! :fed-up: Enjoy.

Monday, November 11, 2002
In judgement of the Gods
By Phil Ball

The newspaper with the biggest daily circulation in Spain is Marca, a sports tabloid printed and published in the wee small hours in Madrid but available on the streets of all major European capitals by lunchtime of the same day.

Despite its avowed intent to be a 'sports' paper, at least 32 of its 48 pages are dedicated to football. It has two rivals - As (unfortunately pronounced 'Ass') - also published in Madrid but with a smaller circulation, and El Mundo Deportivo (The World of Sport) which hails from Barcelona and offers a more Catalan perspective on things.

Marca, despite its tendency to descend into the deeper aspects of what Zidane might or might not have eaten for his breakfast, is actually a decent read given the obvious drawbacks of the genre.

It also sells well on the streets of Barcelona - an interesting fact in the light of its reputation as the de facto official mouthpiece for Real Madrid. Ironically enough, its first edition was printed in San Sebastián in December 1938, a week after a game between Spain and Real Sociedad, an event forced on the Basques by Franco's new ruling bullies.

The paper's first cover featured a Teutonic-looking gentleman with his right arm raised in fascist salute, the headline proclaiming 'Right arm raised to the sportsmen of Spain!'

Whilst one would not wish to suggest that the modern version was edited along the same political lines, it's probably fair to say that the paper is not exactly overrun by lefty, pro-regionalist columnists.

Its rival Catalan tabloid also sells well in Madrid, but one suspects that this is due the fact that most people prefer to know what their enemies are saying about them. It's all part of the scene here, and an integral part of the way the country thrives on its major cat and dog rivalry.

The two newspapers routinely trade insults across the cultural divide, but the often implicit nature of the barbs tends to become more explicit in the weeks prior to 'el clásico' - possibly the world's most famous league game. Yep - it's here again in a fortnight: Barcelona v Real Madrid.

At the weekend, Marca had already kicked off the hostilities, setting off, for the time being, in the implicit mode. On the morning of Real's Saturday game at neighbours Rayo Vallecano, the paper shifted the day's emphasis from the 'derbi' to its interview with three of the past winners of the FIFA Player of the Year trophy - Zidane, Figo and Rivaldo.

The winner of this year's award will be announced on December 17th, the day before the final centenary bash at the Bernabéu which will see the hosts take on a select International XI, and of course it would be awfully nice if a member of the institution in question were able to parade the trophy around the ground before the game begins.

Up to about a month ago, until he picked up a niggling injury, Madrid might have been hoping that at long last Raúl would be up for the cup. He was third last year, behind Becks and Figo, and runner-up to Michael Owen for the Golden Boot. But the qualities of a player are one thing, and the limelight of the moment quite another.

Marca's editorial staff have obviously had a chat together and arrived at the conclusion that Raul's about to miss out yet again. So with six weeks to go to the big day, they've decided to award the crown to Ronaldo - and to use their international profile to influence the result.

And of course, there is no better time to start than in the period prior to the big one in the Camp Nou.

So, according to the three previous winners interviewed - two of them currently playing for Real Madrid and the other a team-mate in the Brazilian team - Ronaldo deserves the title for the calendar year.

'Ronaldo, es tuyo. No hay discusion' ran the sub-header (Ronny, it's yours. There's no argument). Well actually, there is.

Ronaldo scored a cracker against Rayo at the weekend, and a couple on his debut five weeks ago, not forgetting a handy little brace in the World Cup final. But apart from that, he hasn't really done very much at all.

Although the Brazilian was of course overcoming a long-term injury, Inter Milan will surely have a word or two to say if their ex-player gets the FIFA nod. Being a putatively great player - one who has previously demonstrated his undoubted qualities - does not make him the World Player of the Year.

As a professional philosopher would undoubtedly remark - greatness is a necessary condition for winning the award, but it is not a sufficient one.

It would be a shame if football were to go down the same road as for example music, whose annual awards always seem to feature nominations for Phil Collins, Madonna and Michael Jackson, regardless of whether they have recorded any music or not.

Of course, giving awards to musicians such as these when they have done absolutely nothing is a good idea, since it would seem to encourage them to continue doing nothing. But with footballers such as Ronaldo it's probably not a great idea.

Even the Catalans, who enjoy their football, have no objection to seeing their ex-idol out there on the pitch, strutting his stuff.

No. There is no way that the Brazilian should win his third FIFA title. A third award would be without precedent (he deservedly won it in 1996 and 1997), and even in the ranks of European Footballer of the Year, a title generally regarded with historical respect, Di Stéfano and Cruyff only took it twice each.

Di Stéfano, now a grumpy 76 year-old, is a case in point. He never sustained a serious injury like Ronaldo, but then again he never had at his disposal the technical and medical back-up that a modern footballer enjoys.

If you want to judge the greatest player of all time, then you need to decide on some criteria, as opposed to allowing newspapers like Marca to cast their self-interested votes. Criteria? They're pretty easy to find if you bother to have a look.

Alfredo Di Stéfano played at the top level until he was almost forty. When Real Madrid finally terminated his contract he decided to prove them wrong and carried on at Español, where he continued to score goals. He managed a total of 893 despite his not being an out-and-out striker.

He would turn out for the side in midweek in the European Cup (he won five with them, on the trot), turn out on the Sunday in the league, then travel (by bus) the length of Spain to play against a minnow the next Tuesday, if circumstances so befell. And he did it year in year out. He smoked like a chimney and had no personal trainer.

But he kept it up much longer than any of the other rivals to the throne, Pele, Maradona and Cruyff. These are some of the criteria with which to judge greatness, as opposed to marketing and self-interest.

Focusing back on the league itself, the Camp Nou continues to be an unhappy house, despite its team's relative success in the Champion's League. Apart from their appalling performance against struggling Villareal, decided by a late penalty by Riquelme, Van Gaal's tactical whimsy continues to mystify supporters, journalist and players alike.

Saviola, clearly the team's best performer over the season so far, was dropped to the bench for Saturday's game, whilst Kluivert, clearly struggling to understand his team-mates, his manager and the anarchic actions of his own legs, remains an ever-present.

Meanwhile, down in the depths of Segunda 'B', Victor Valdés, the reserve goalie, was holding a press conference instead of training with the youth side, to which he had been dispatched without explanation by Van Gaal.

'I'm a first-teamer' declared the keeper, signing his death-warrant. Van Gaal has enough on his plate without an open act of rebellion, and the keeper will soon be on his way.

And just to complete the Dutchman's week, Cruyff, employed by Marca to put in the boot whenever Barça are down, weighed in with an attack on the crumbling edifice of Messrs Gaal and Gaspart, accusing them of incompetence and a lack of style - the two things most feared by Catalans.

There'll be a spirited fight-back in the press this week, but the proof of the pudding will be the result on the 24th. And the way it's looking, I wouldn't bet too much on Barça to win.

FC Barca11

11-12-2002, 02:45 AM

Mr. Ball forgets that Barcelona fans and players alike shall be motivated by the shame and pain we suffered last year ::mad::

funky6

11-12-2002, 09:25 AM

What a lovely Madrid article.No,sorry he remembered about Barça in the last lines too.I've decided not to become too furious about journalists and stuff.Everyone can write whatever he thinks so,but playing objective and not being fair,that's what i HATE.

It's what Marca 4 example is doing.Since when it's an objective sports paper?They 've publiced some of the most embarrasing and humilliating papers for Barça.They don't lose a single chance to laugh at Barça while playin a dirtier than Aznar's role in Madrid's issues(in general)I definitely prefer AS or MD that are not shamed of what they are.And Mr Ball should know that more than the half of the fans of the most populate spanish club by far(more than 1000 penyas in spain,not to speak abt non-supporter's clubs members) do not agree with MD or Sport.Otherwise they would be monarchy.

And it's what Mr Ball did in this article too.He seems too informed abt Barça's problems but there's no single line abt theirs and i think they 've been through much trouble the last month,everybody knows it.

Anyway,i'm used to Barça being insulted and not treated fairly the last years,and it's our fault that we've turned from the main item of conversations of the whole planet football to a non-prestigious top club.But times change,and they've already started glory hunters.

Visca el Barça.

BLAUGRANA

11-19-2002, 07:44 PM

The latest installment from Soccernet. Mallorca gets it's due praise this week. Interesting the strikers that have been there and are there currently. They really have had some go ones play on the island. Surprising the club isn't more popular. A certain favourite player of mine is mentioned as well. He recieves the high praise a player of his quality does. Mr. Ball generally has very little favourable to say about Barca. However, I think he comes like they are most of the time. Those of you who compared Puyol to the Barca laundryman might want to further your education by reading this one. :eek: Enjoy:

Tuesday, November 19, 2002
Of records and rockers
By Phil Ball

Mallorca seems to be one of those places which is destined to be forever misunderstood.

Having suffered for years the stigma of its inclusion in Monty Python's famous portrayal of its fat-bellied British and German tourists, slapping on the suntan lotion, scoffing their chips and swilling their Watney's Red Barrel, too few folks have since come to realise that the island is in fact a pretty intriguing place - with a north-western coast of snowy peaks, amazing beaches and the sort of picturesque hideaways that have been attracting a variety of the rich and interesting for some years now.

These days it's Michael Douglas, but before it was Robert Graves. The place has its own language - Mallorquín - and a football team that, like Tenerife, have decided to represent the whole island as opposed to one of its centres of population.

The substantial city of Palma is where Real Club Deportivo de Mallorca hang out, and although the hardcore fans complain that the island is still too populated by exiled Real Madrid supporters to really make the newish San Moix stadium vibrate with local passion, this weekend's victory at Santander - the club's seventh in a row, should go some way to improving matters.

Mallorca now have 21 points and lie second, a point behind leaders Real Sociedad. Given that both sides were seriously flirting with relegation a mere five months ago, the new situation seems hard to fathom. Even odder is the fact that Mallorca lost their three opening games, prompting ridiculously premature rumours of an early bath for new manager Gregorio Manzano.

Manzano has been around the top flight now for several years without ever really hitting the heights. An unlikely looking chap, with the face of an anonymous bank clerk, he has been known to let forth with torrents of colourful language during after-match press conferences, being particularly passionate with regard to the subject of referees.

But so far this season he has been a paragon of linguistic taste, and is now being compared to the great Luis Aragones - another of Spain's managers with a ready repertoire of Cervantes' best phrases and lauded ex-manager of the Balearic club. Before him came Hector Cuper, now strutting his stuff at Inter and the man justifiably marked out as the manager who first turned the tide.

The club were promoted to the top division at the end of the 1996/97 season and took on hard-man Cuper the same summer. They reached the King's Cup final that same season, losing to Barcelona, but got their revenge by beating them in the Supercopa and effectively winning their first ever major title since their foundation in 1916.

The next season they made it to Birmingham for the last ever final of the Cup Winner's Cup, losing to Lazio but making plenty of friends in the process.

Perhaps more significantly they finished third in the league - their giddiest ever position, and qualified for the Champions League for two consecutive seasons.

It seemed odd somehow, to see Mallorca up there with the big boys, outplaying Arsenal at the San Moix. But whether it seemed strange or not, the fact is that the club has been producing interesting players for several years now - often picking them up as youngsters on loan deals or youth-team discards, and turning them into men.

Ivan Campo, Dani, Engonga, Finidi and Lauren all passed variously through the ranks here, as have the more recent examples of Diego Tristán and Luque - both now looking very good indeed at Deportivo. The old warhorse Nadal is still around, having spent his best years at Barcelona, but enjoying something of an Indian summer on his home turf.

The previous week's home win meant that Mallorca had beaten the record of five consecutive victories under Luis Aragones, and they achieved it the same day as their erstwhile fellow-strugglers Real Sociedad drew with Deportivo and signed off with the best statistical start in their league history.

The latest win at Santander has handed Mallorca the same distinction a week later - the 21 points gained in ten games beating their previous best start back in 1997-98 with Cuper.

The Spanish press seems at a loss to explain exactly how this state of affairs has come about, and although one swallow doth not a summer make, Sociedad's solid 0-0 performance at the Bernabéu and Mallorca's equally gritty win at Santander - the season's most awkward customers - has prompted an almost reluctant outbreak of the 'Ok - these guys are serious' variety.

No-one wants to steal too much thunder away from the big two in the week leading up to 'El clásico', but at the moment the press has little choice. Even Valencia, previously looking invincible, have begun to stumble, losing bizarrely to a Third Division side in the King's Cup then perhaps more surprisingly losing 1-0 at Osasuna this last weekend. Osasuna have been playing so awfully of late that they themselves seemed hard put to understand how they'd managed to win.

Mallorca fans, however, will point to the return of the excellent Ibagaza to the side as a major reason for their recovery - the little Argentine's absence last year coinciding with their drop in form.

With him back in the midfield and Lozano holding the fort, the excellent Sam Eto'o and the ex-Deportivo man Walter Pandiani are beginning to click up front. The crowd were on Pandiani's back up until a fortnight ago, but with six goals in three games he's the new hero.

The Mallorcan fans have a certain tendency towards impatience with their own, and Dani, Tristán and Luque - who have all gone on to prove their worth on the mainland, were all jeered at sometime during their careers on the island. Whatever, if the run carries on, all three of them might begin to wish they'd stayed.

Finally - in praise of a new hero. Cometh the hour, cometh the man, as they say. Just when the internal wranglings of Barcelona's moody foreign imports seemed to be reaching the point of no return, local hero Carles Puyol has pledged his future to his home-town club, just as the rumours that Real Madrid's agents were in town had begun to rattle the already rattled faithful.

Barça always need at least one charismatic Catalan to hold up the flag, and now that Guardiola is history, Puyol has stepped firmly into his boots. Not that the young defender is a poetry-reading nationalist like his softly-spoken and cultured predecessor.

Puyol looks like a throwback rocker stranded somewhere between surfboard culture and a Motorhead gig. He is Spain's hairier version of Stuart Pearce, an 'uncompromising' chappie who, like his English role model, psyches himself up before each game with a discman blast of death metal before beefing up onto the pitch in full testosterone mode.

But despite his dodgy appearance, he is being hailed as the new Camacho, all balls and commitment, feared by friend and foe alike.

At the tender age of 23, he has personally taken on the challenge of winning back the sceptics to the Camp Nou, and every week he seems more in charge, totally in command.

Opposing forwards are terrified of him, and suddenly, all the Barça fans want to see are his scything tackles and bullish runs upfield.

With precious little around to provide the usual aesthetics, the crowd have conferred upon his hairy head the unlikely status of a new national hero. It'll be interesting to see who he marks this weekend during the big match, but Mr Figo, for one, had better check his shin-pads - assuming he doesn't suffer a recurrence of that mysterious muscular problem that often seems to plague him during the run-up to this particular game.

BLAUGRANA

11-25-2002, 02:55 PM

One of the better installments again. LOL about the pig's head. I still don't condone such behaviour, but that seems to me to be the most fitting item anyone could through at Figo. I found it interesting how he said he thought Figo took too much time with the corners, but sort of criticized LVG and Gaspart for making the same sort of comments.

Monday, November 25, 2002
Pigs might fly
By Phil Ball

No prizes for guessing this week's topic. Barcelona and Real Madrid drew 0-0 in a game that in footballing terms might well have had half the world (who were apparently watching) asking for their digital money back, had it not been for the circus sideshow that habitually accompanies this annual event when it comes round to the Camp Nou.

http://www.soccernet.com/images/european/spain/makelele_getty.jpg

'Marca', the football tabloid mentioned a fortnight ago in this column, surpassed even their usual double-standard horseplay on the day after the game, indulging in an orgy of criticism of everything that smells of Catalonia, leading with 'El Derbi de la Vergüenza' (The Derby of Shame) and a photograph of Luis Figo taking a corner showered by a hail of undesirable objects.

Shame indeed, but then again there was a certain element of self-fulfilled prophesising in the unfolding of events - given that the same paper had been holding forth all week on the profound topic of whether or not Luis Figo should take the corners or not during the game.

Five days before the game, Figo had replied to one of Marca's journalists that, naturally enough, he intended to take the corners. Since he took them at the other 19 grounds in the First Division, he saw no reason to change habits in the Camp Nou. Absolutely. But the topic having been talked about all week, in the Catalan papers too, it was somewhat unlikely that the player would be greeted with bouquets of flowers as he shaped up to do his stuff from the corner flags.

And of course, true to plan, the folks whose seats are within flinging distance of the fluttering flags at the Camp Nou brought along everything bar the kitchen sink. Among the items thrown were a bread knife, a bottle of J&B Whisky - lovingly focused on by the cameras for several seconds of lucrative free advertising for the company, and a pig's head.

The symbolism of the latter's presence on the grass is slightly obscure, but the main question is how the pig managed to get through the turnstiles - especially given the supposed heightened security for the game. As my friend the barman commented during a café con leche and a chat on the morning after - if it had been brought in by a member of the Barça skinhead 'Boixos Nois' fraternity, the perpetrator would most likely have worn it on his on head, and no-one would have noticed.

In case you have found the opening part of the article confusing, here's a quick filler on the soap opera up to now. Luis Figo, a Portuguese chappy with an impressive shock of black hair, film-star looks and sublime skills on the right side of the pitch - a sort of midfielder-cum traditional winger, depending on how the mood takes him - used to play for Barcelona. They loved him, he seemed to love them, and the team looked very good indeed when he turned out for them.

At the end of the year 2000, he was justifiably named European Footballer of the Year, but there was a slight catch. He'd moved to Real Madrid the same summer in what was probably the shock transfer of the ten-year period leading up to the millennium - in fact it was one of the shock transfers of all time in the Spanish league - a brilliant coup pulled off by Madrid's incoming president, Florentino Perez, who had made it part of his agenda for his election to replace the fast-fading Lorenzo Sanz.

No-one believed Perez, but then again no-one knew just how much Figo hated the idea of playing under the auspices of Joan Gaspart - himself about to ascend the Barça throne, how much Perez had offered him, and how much the player himself fancied a change.

In short, he dared to make the fateful journey west, and he has never been forgiven.

Gaspart, for his opening press conference as President of Barcelona, assured the gathered journalists that anyone who crossed him would 'pay' for his misdemeanour. Figo had crossed him, and he would get his revenge.

http://www.soccernet.com/images/european/spain/deboer_getty.jpg

Pathetic stuff indeed, more worthy of the schoolyard than a sporting context, but Gaspart has never been blessed with PR skills, proving the point once again this weekend with his assertion that Figo had 'provoked' the crowd into throwing objects at him.

Van Gaal, another avid reader of the book 'How to win friends and influence people', weighed in behind his president, claiming that Figo had taken 'too long' over the corner-kicks, and that Real Madrid's walk-off (in sympathy with Figo's futile attempt to take a corner in the second half) had been staged in order to break the rhythm of his side, a rhythm that had been threatening to earn them a goal.

Figo, to his eternal credit, has never been one to pour oil on the flames, and has a reputation for being an intelligent, savvy character, a master of understatement and the diplomatic phrase. But given the weekend's events he elected to give a longer than usual press conference on the Sunday, one in which he expressed 'surprise' at Van Gaal's attacks on him, especially given the two and half years that Figo spent playing under Van Gaal's orders - a period during which Figo claimed he had 'saved his arse' on various occasions.

Unfortunately for the Dutchman, statistics are on the Portuguese international's side, making it likely that the phrase will go down in Spanish journalistic history, and particularly well in the corridors of the Van Gaal detractors brigade (practically the whole country).

Barcelona actually played quite decently against Madrid, and deserved more than a draw - but the crowd booed the decision to take off Riquelme, their best player on the night, prompting his manager to froth at the mouth in his press conference, complaining that no-one understands nor appreciates his tactical nous. Plus ça change.

Van Gaal is a psychiatrist's delight, a full-blown embodiment of the concept of paranoia. The paranoid never thinks he is wrong, and in this particular case could not understand why 98,000 people might have seen things in a different way to him.

But he did have a point about the 'provocation'. Figo did take a little too long, and at times almost seemed to be enjoying the situation, as if it were some sort of catharsis for him - as if he had to confront the abuse this time, two years after he'd first experienced it on returning to the stadium, and stare it in the face.

No country, in Europe at least, can conjure up the cultural complexity that underlies the sort of scene witnessed on Saturday night. Celtic and Rangers comes close, but is relatively easy to explain, if similarly difficult to eradicate.

In some ways - and I don't mean to include the Glasgow derby in this statement - Spanish football would be all the poorer were it not for the various regional rivalries that dominate it, Barça and Madrid being the most famous example of a widespread phenomenon in the country.

Sad though it sometimes seems, it lends the football here its special spice, its socio-political sauce. Everyone cries 'shame', but they love it really. Nevertheless, knives, bottles and pigs are taking matters a bit too far.

Figo has never really said much in detriment to Barça since he left, and Sunday's declarations are something of an exception. But the bile directed his way seems over the top, until you realise that his main crime was to be the world's best player at the time, and that the move was seen as an affront to Barça's soul, an implicit denial of everything that makes the community special.

It didn't help that Ronaldo went down with flu' before the game, since the Brazilian, another turncoat, may well have deflected a little of the attention away from Figo.

The ground will surely be closed, but not for so long as a smaller club's would be. And Gaspart will inevitably contest the decision, effectively endorsing potentially murderous behaviour.

Next year Figo might think twice, and pull a muscle or two for the sake of peace and quiet. Then again, pigs may fly.

BLAUGRANA

12-03-2002, 10:14 PM

Monday, December 2, 2002
Football's intelligence question
By Phil Ball

I was invited to give a talk in Bilbao last week, to students of the Faculty of Journalism. It took place in the new posh conference centre, the Euskalduna, and was actually a three-day fest of talks and presentations.

The event was sponsored by Spanish TV and radio, and was attended by various luminaries of the modern game such as Jose Antonio Camacho (just before he flew off to Benfica to sign on for a new job), his successor in the Spanish post, Iñaki Saez, and another former holder of that particular title, Javier Clemente. Clemente was persuaded to leave the golf course for a couple of afternoons in order to impart his wisdom to the puppies of the Fourth Estate.

Unsure of what I might be able to contribute among such a star-studded line-up, I nevertheless went along and was paired with a journalist from the newspaper El Correo to address some 600 folks on the topic of La Afición Inteligente (intelligent supporters).

Having had no time to prepare the talk - mainly because no-one had bothered to tell me what it was going to be about - and having expected an audience of some 50 people, the announcement of this title by the MC as I sat like a startled rabbit onstage came as a further shock to the system. It was temporarily soothed by the fact that the El Correo journalist (who seemed to have pages of scribble prepared) was asked to go first.

Pretending to listen, I desperately made notes on what I might say. The cameras were whirring and the mikes were picking up the talk live for Radio Nacional de España, so I couldn't do a Van Morrison and just walk off.

To my further horror, the chap from the Spanish newspaper finished after some ten minutes, despite the fact that we were supposed to do 20 minutes each. As the MC turned to invite me to begin, I realised that I had absolutely no idea of what I was going to say, nor of what my predecessor had been talking about.

But fear is a great motivator, especially when you're deprived of the armoury of your own language, and I began by quoting my mother. She still cannot see, I informed them, why so much fuss is made about '22 silly men running around a pitch chasing a piece of leather'.

Put in such brutal terms, it makes one wonder whether football really requires intelligent comment, as in truth most supporters watch the game for more basic, visceral reasons, whether they are university professors or otherwise.

I pointed out that if you wanted to know what Zinedine Zidane had for breakfast, you could find out in Marca, but if you preferred to know what the same man thought about Le Pen's version of French nationalism you should look to a paper like El País. Both, I said, were making their contribution to informing the public about football.

Jorge Valdano, for example, has become a watchword in Spain for intellectual pretentiousness. The general feeling about him is that he overdoes the deep analysis somewhat, straying into areas of language and observation which sound as though they belong more to a philosophy lecture than to football. Nevertheless, his prose is a pleasure to read - and if that's more your thing, why not?

On a more practical level, I suggested that football was a little like painting in the sense that you can look at art for years and derive some pleasure, then suddenly derive a whole lot more when someone comes along and actually explains the technicalities to you.

Rugby commentary has for years, perhaps because of the game's more middle-class roots, nurtured a tradition of intelligent technical analysis, whereas football has too often limited itself to the 'It's a goal!' syndrome, begun in England by the master of that particular science, the late Kenneth Wolstenholme.

Here in Spain, in rather less soporific terms, radio commentators compete with each other in the length-and-volume stakes, attempting to scream 'Gooooooool!' for as long as their lungs will allow them - but this tradition also vies with a proliferation of radio programmes throughout the week that debate, incessantly, the issues of football.

The Spanish 'give good radio', because their love of conversation lends itself so well to the medium - but this is not tantamount to 'intelligence', or evidence of massed ranks of supporters thirsting for profound insights into the beautiful game.

I concluded by remarking - perhaps rather lamely - that the huge proliferation of literature about football that was very much a feature of the past ten years in Britain had yet to make inroads into the more conservative Spanish scene, and that in the end, the folks over here preferred the 'Gooooool!!!' to the 'Valdano' because it seemed more honest, more attuned to why people went through the turnstiles in the first place.

But after picking up my cheque and fleeing the scene as quickly as diplomacy allowed, I've had second thoughts. What seems to be happening in football now, in Spain as in most of Europe, is a greater emphasis on the human side of the game, and this is surely a tendency to be encouraged.

It began in the early 1970s with Eamonn Dunphy's Only a Game - still the best of the genre - and can be seen in recent publications like Tony Cascarino's, Niall Quinn's or even Roy Keane's (fuelled again by Dunphy, 30 years on).

These books cross the line between supporter and player, and help to unscramble the weird perception we have of these people as gods. To any football obsessive, it's a more 'intelligent' equivalent of watching The Osbournes on TV, and here in Spain there is clearly a new groundswell to the approach of interviewing players, for example.

The more articulate ones are being sought out for after-match chit-chat, and even the players themselves seem to be aware of the fact that they need to be able to say more than 'I knew it was in the net before it left my boot, Juan'.

It is as if they have at last recognised that the vast amounts that many of them earn and the public positions into which they have been thrust have conferred some responsibilities.

When I interviewed Valdano last summer for my book on Real Madrid, I put this question to him about football and intelligence, since it seemed to be his big thing. He was a little cautious at first: 'Well, reading a book doesn't make you play better,' he began - 'but intelligence expresses itself in lots of ways. You might be able to paint, to teach, to lead people, to plan... or play football.

'Diego [Maradona] was very insecure about all this, and he always used to say to me 'Jorge - people think I'm stupid. How can I convince them that I'm not?' and I would tell him, 'Listen Diego. That [second] goal you scored against England. I can tell it better than you. I can narrate it with real style. But I could never have scored a goal like that. So who's the more intelligent - Diego or Jorge?". He liked that. From then on he used to say 'Jorge, you're crap. But don't worry, I know you're intelligent really.'

And just in case anyone thought it wasn't very clever to rate Real Sociedad amongst this season's genuine title contenders, their tactical destruction of Barcelona on Sunday in Anoeta will have begun to convince the doubters otherwise.

Talking of football intelligence, the new name to conjure with in the next few months will be Xavi Alonso, Real Sociedad's new midfield treasure, 20 years old and already a fascinating combination of Pep Guardiola and Bernd Schuster.

He's frighteningly good, and is a major factor behind the team's sudden emergence this season. He even talks a good game. The new generation - watch out. Great footballers with brains... it's the end of civilisation as we knew it.

BLAUGRANA

12-10-2002, 11:45 PM

A nice little piece on Macca. I agree with Mr. Ball wholeheartedly. Macca should be a part of the England setup. I'd personally use him on the left though. I don't think he'd be better than Beckham for England, but he could definately influence the side out on the left. What's also puzzling to me though is the lack of respect he recieves from the Real Madrid hierarchy. He's done some great things with and for the club, yet like Guti and Morientes they seem to want to offload him. Perhaps it's the 75,000 pounds a week he makes. Who knows. Either way, Macca deserves a lot more respect from Sven and Real as well.

Tuesday, December 10, 2002
Macca para Inglaterra
By Phil Ball

Interesting that Tord Grip has announced that Steve McManaman will probably not figure in the England team again - at least while he and Sven are in charge.

The justification for this announcement, in response to recent speculation, seems to be that McManaman has 'never played a good game for his country' (quote), does not hold down a first-team place at the Bernabéu, and - because he plays in Spain - Tord and Sven don't get to see him very often.

Interesting - to use that word again - that Eriksson's assistant did not say something like 'Well - we've got so many talented midfielders in England that it's hard for Steve to get a look in', a statement which, whether declared or not, is surely the hub of the issue.

McManaman last wore the England shirt as a sub against Greece in the apocalyptic draw at Old Trafford that finally took England to the 2002 World Cup.

Since then he hasn't had a sniff, and last heard from Eriksson when the Swede's voice announced on his answer-phone in Madrid that he wouldn't be taking him to Japan.

McManaman, to his credit, has stayed silent during this period of neglect, but has finally decided to make his feelings known. He has called the statement by Grip 'unprofessional', which it is.

It is hard to see why the Real Madrid player cannot at least live in hope, and even harder to see why he cannot at least find a way into what is a very ordinary squad.

Eriksson, who seems wary of McManaman's reputation for being a little too laid-back, is in danger of turning the issue into a symbolic reflection of his overall performance as England manager - efficient but uninspired.

But if one really wished to get bitchy, it could also be seen as a lack of insight, a lack of thoroughness, not something for which he has often been criticised.

Eriksson should get his assistants to bring him videos of all the games that McManaman has played in this season, evidence which would surely make him change his mind.

It's not a case of McManaman not being good enough for England, but rather of England not being good enough for McManaman.

The fact that he does not hold down a first-team place at Real Madrid is hardly evidence of a lack of form or ability. Real Madrid's midfield has Zidane and Figo, probably the world's top two players, the wonderful Makelele, then Cambiasso, Flavio, Guti, Solari... need I go on?

All these players are internationals, in squads probably more impressive then England's - but many of them find it hard to hold down a first-team place.

McManaman, although some think that he can solve England's left-flank problem, is probably still at his happiest where he played for Liverpool, over on the right flank, lying deep - where Figo understandably keeps him out of the side.

But I failed to notice anyone during England's tedious performances in Japan doing their stuff in that position. Beckham and Dyer were unfit, but for some curious reason a fully-fit McManaman was not taken along.

This is a player with two Champions League medals, and moreover a player who made highly significant contributions to both those campaigns. We're talking experience here, not just talent.

England's best midfielder in the World Cup turned out to be Nicky Butt, but that in itself was significant. With the sole exception of Scholes, England had no fit improvisers, and are still woefully th