Sunday, May 3, 2009
Friday, May 1, 2009
A stalemate? No surprise there
It was a game many were looking forward to, Chelsea's power coming up against Barcelona's artistry, brawn against brain, lung capacity against grey matter. 'Beauty and the Beast', one of the Barcelona newspapers called it. Which is a little harsh on Chelsea's personnel, but we got the point.
Guus Hiddink had predicted a classic, just like Chelsea's wonderful quarter-final against Liverpool a fortnight earlier. The Camp Nou was full, the television audience massive, the expectation jangling. And what did we get? A stalemate.
Sure, it was on a more elevated level tactically and skill-wise than the bore draw served up the night before by Newcastle and Portsmouth. Yes, there were elements to savour, in the defensive obduracy of John Terry, the buzzing, inventive midfield play of Andres Iniesta and Xavi and the strength on the ball of Yaya Toure. Overall, however, it was not one to live long in the memory. 0-0 draws rarely do.
But then this was a semi-final. And how many classic semis can you recount? Maybe a couple involving England. There's France against Germany in the 1982 World Cup. There's Germany v Italy in the last World Cup, itself goalless for 118 minutes. There's Crystal Palace against Liverpool in the FA Cup 1990. I'm sure there are few others that might be recalled under sustained water-boarding. But generally they turn out like last night: cagey, careful, pragmatic. Which is perfectly understandable. The closer you get to the prize, the less you are prepared to risk.
Just consider what was at stake last night. For Barcelona there is a huge quantity of self-esteem on the table. This is a club that reckons itself different, apart from the rest of Spain by dint of history and geography, apart from the rest of football by the manner of its ownership, aloof from the forces of mammon as personified by the Premier League juggernaut.
Their fans like to see the club as the last representative of the forces of light remaining in the competition. This is a club that thinks of itself as doing things properly. Winning the European Cup only twice in its history is a gap in its CV everyone at the club is desperate to address. Now it has a team not only capable of winning it for a third time, but doing so in style. The pressure to get there is overwhelming. When Lionel Messi miscontrols a ball, you realise it is also a pressure that afflicts even the greats.
For Chelsea, the pressure is no less intense. The desire to right the wrongs of Moscow last season, to put their mark on history, finally to deliver to the man who has bankrolled so much his fervent wish: these are not small concerns. And they are concerns which, while always there, move from the back of the mind to the front as the prize hoves into view. It is ever thus: no-one wants to balls up a semi.
It was just the same in the FA Cup the other weekend. The game between Manchester United and Everton was one of the dullest in recorded time, a match which could have gone on another fortnight and still failed to deliver anything worth remembering. Ultimately Everton deserved their moment. But it was still a stinker. And that, whatever Alex Ferguson's urgent post-rationalisation, wasn't solely down to the pitch.
Unless I can be persuaded otherwise, it was down to this irrefutable law of football: semis are almost always rubbish.
By: Jim White
Guus Hiddink had predicted a classic, just like Chelsea's wonderful quarter-final against Liverpool a fortnight earlier. The Camp Nou was full, the television audience massive, the expectation jangling. And what did we get? A stalemate.
Sure, it was on a more elevated level tactically and skill-wise than the bore draw served up the night before by Newcastle and Portsmouth. Yes, there were elements to savour, in the defensive obduracy of John Terry, the buzzing, inventive midfield play of Andres Iniesta and Xavi and the strength on the ball of Yaya Toure. Overall, however, it was not one to live long in the memory. 0-0 draws rarely do.
But then this was a semi-final. And how many classic semis can you recount? Maybe a couple involving England. There's France against Germany in the 1982 World Cup. There's Germany v Italy in the last World Cup, itself goalless for 118 minutes. There's Crystal Palace against Liverpool in the FA Cup 1990. I'm sure there are few others that might be recalled under sustained water-boarding. But generally they turn out like last night: cagey, careful, pragmatic. Which is perfectly understandable. The closer you get to the prize, the less you are prepared to risk.
Just consider what was at stake last night. For Barcelona there is a huge quantity of self-esteem on the table. This is a club that reckons itself different, apart from the rest of Spain by dint of history and geography, apart from the rest of football by the manner of its ownership, aloof from the forces of mammon as personified by the Premier League juggernaut.
Their fans like to see the club as the last representative of the forces of light remaining in the competition. This is a club that thinks of itself as doing things properly. Winning the European Cup only twice in its history is a gap in its CV everyone at the club is desperate to address. Now it has a team not only capable of winning it for a third time, but doing so in style. The pressure to get there is overwhelming. When Lionel Messi miscontrols a ball, you realise it is also a pressure that afflicts even the greats.
For Chelsea, the pressure is no less intense. The desire to right the wrongs of Moscow last season, to put their mark on history, finally to deliver to the man who has bankrolled so much his fervent wish: these are not small concerns. And they are concerns which, while always there, move from the back of the mind to the front as the prize hoves into view. It is ever thus: no-one wants to balls up a semi.
It was just the same in the FA Cup the other weekend. The game between Manchester United and Everton was one of the dullest in recorded time, a match which could have gone on another fortnight and still failed to deliver anything worth remembering. Ultimately Everton deserved their moment. But it was still a stinker. And that, whatever Alex Ferguson's urgent post-rationalisation, wasn't solely down to the pitch.
Unless I can be persuaded otherwise, it was down to this irrefutable law of football: semis are almost always rubbish.
By: Jim White
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
Ryan mighty?
Can somebody who starts one match in three ever be considered the best player in the Premier League?
The answer, apparently, is yes, after Ryan Giggs won the PFA Player of the Year award despite appearing in Alex Ferguson's starting XI just 12 times this season.
Has Giggs been more influential than Steven Gerrard, Frank Lampard, Phil Neville or even Titus Bramble? Of course not.
This is a lifetime achievement award by another name, voted for by players who had just seen countless replays of his admittedly sumptuous goal against West Ham.
The argument for Giggs is that this represents fair reward for his body of work. He is one of the best players of the last 20 years and certainly the most decorated, so what better way to celebrate his continued influence than with a big tin pot?
The anti-Giggs lobby can point to the fact that he has hardly played. Which, you might imagine, must count against him.
Andrei Arshavin has every chance of making more Premier League starts than Giggs despite spending fewer taxable days in the UK than Lewis Hamilton.
And as for the lifetime achievement award, Giggs might have longevity but ED does not remember him being a serious contender for one of these PFA awards before.
The perennial contenders from United were always Eric Cantona, David Beckham, Roy Keane, Ruud van Nistelrooy and Peter Schmeichel.
But not Giggs. Not even in that dark period around the turn of the millennium when United had no serious domestic opposition and a decrepit Teddy Sheringham won the PFA award.
Clearly the baffling custom of announcing the awards with a month of the season still to play (and polling the players several weeks before that) has had an effect on proceedings.
If the voting were held back until the end of the season, would Nemanja Vidic have been nominated for Player of the Year ahead of Frank Lampard? Or Gabriel Agbonlahor nominated for Young Player ahead of Theo Walcott?
And the team of the season would certainly not contain Chelsea's Nicolas Anelka, who has gone staler than a week-old baguette since Big Phil got the push.
Ashley Young's victory in the Young Player category is so 2008, they might as well have picked Duffy.
If the vote were being taken at the end of the season, is there any doubt that Stephen Ireland would have won?
'Complex' personality aside, the Irishman has been by far Manchester City's most consistent and influential player.
There would be an almighty clamour for Fabio Capello to call him up if he were English. And if he hadn't retired from international football following Grannygate.
Does it really matter though? The PFA award does not claim to be some objective measure of performance.
The players have been asked for their footballer of the year and they have expressed a preference. If you don't like their choice, tough. Become a Premier League player and vote for someone else.
Source: Eurosport
The answer, apparently, is yes, after Ryan Giggs won the PFA Player of the Year award despite appearing in Alex Ferguson's starting XI just 12 times this season.
Has Giggs been more influential than Steven Gerrard, Frank Lampard, Phil Neville or even Titus Bramble? Of course not.
This is a lifetime achievement award by another name, voted for by players who had just seen countless replays of his admittedly sumptuous goal against West Ham.
The argument for Giggs is that this represents fair reward for his body of work. He is one of the best players of the last 20 years and certainly the most decorated, so what better way to celebrate his continued influence than with a big tin pot?
The anti-Giggs lobby can point to the fact that he has hardly played. Which, you might imagine, must count against him.
Andrei Arshavin has every chance of making more Premier League starts than Giggs despite spending fewer taxable days in the UK than Lewis Hamilton.
And as for the lifetime achievement award, Giggs might have longevity but ED does not remember him being a serious contender for one of these PFA awards before.
The perennial contenders from United were always Eric Cantona, David Beckham, Roy Keane, Ruud van Nistelrooy and Peter Schmeichel.
But not Giggs. Not even in that dark period around the turn of the millennium when United had no serious domestic opposition and a decrepit Teddy Sheringham won the PFA award.
Clearly the baffling custom of announcing the awards with a month of the season still to play (and polling the players several weeks before that) has had an effect on proceedings.
If the voting were held back until the end of the season, would Nemanja Vidic have been nominated for Player of the Year ahead of Frank Lampard? Or Gabriel Agbonlahor nominated for Young Player ahead of Theo Walcott?
And the team of the season would certainly not contain Chelsea's Nicolas Anelka, who has gone staler than a week-old baguette since Big Phil got the push.
Ashley Young's victory in the Young Player category is so 2008, they might as well have picked Duffy.
If the vote were being taken at the end of the season, is there any doubt that Stephen Ireland would have won?
'Complex' personality aside, the Irishman has been by far Manchester City's most consistent and influential player.
There would be an almighty clamour for Fabio Capello to call him up if he were English. And if he hadn't retired from international football following Grannygate.
Does it really matter though? The PFA award does not claim to be some objective measure of performance.
The players have been asked for their footballer of the year and they have expressed a preference. If you don't like their choice, tough. Become a Premier League player and vote for someone else.
Source: Eurosport
Sunday, April 26, 2009
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