FUSSnotes

Owen to United?

Micheal Owen's possible move from Real Madrid to Manchester United would be good for both parties and England, too.  Wayne Rooney will relish the chance to play in the slot behind Owen who likes to run onto a ball to space.  Rooney, for his part, will enjoy more space created in front of him by the quiet, fleet one.

We also like Park Ji-Sung's drive forward out of midfield.  Menacing, innit?.  Combine this with a more effective Cristiano Rinaldo and United will have mojo.  Lack of a replacement for Keane remains a problem, and Scholes needs to finish. 

Robson on Mourinho

Donald McRea's lovely piece on Sir Bobby in The Guardian reveals much about the widely loved ex-England and Newcastle manager.  Of particular note, Sir Bobby has a special place for Chelsea Manager, Jose Mourinho:

Even in the unlikely event of Arsenal signing Jenas, Wenger will struggle to keep up with Mourinho. If Robson follows that managerial battle with a mixture of pride and envy, his warm memories of Mourinho carry no such ambivalence. They first met when Robson took over as manager of Sporting Lisbon in the early 90s.

He introduced himself at the airport. 'Hello Mister. My name is Jose Mourinho and the president has hired me as your interpreter. I hope I can do a good job for you, Mister.' He always called me Mister. That was Jose. Very nice, very respectful, very handsome. But, if I said something hard and direct, he never tried to soften it in translation. Jose was strong but he developed a nice, positive rapport with everyone. The players loved him.

One of my stipulations in moving to Barcelona was that Jose should accompany me [as he had to Porto]. You should have seen him with Ronaldo, whom I'd just signed for £20m. Ronaldo, for the short time we had him at Barcelona, was phenomenal. There were no girls for Ronaldo then. No disco, no fashion, no earrings, no flash cars. He had the need to be a great player - and so he listened to Jose. It didn't matter that Jose had done nothing as a player. With a young genius like Ronaldo, he was perfect. Jose knew how to speak to him.

Robson vows he'll be back in the game; he even expresses regret about having turned down Wolves, Hearts and Derby just after his ignominious exit from Newcastle.  I've no doubt Sir Bobby will return.

Charlie George: Icon

Nick Hornby's hero in the 1970's was Charlie George. Charlie was a footballing artist, and so much more...

Charlie George is one of the few seventies icons who has so far managed to avoid being deconstructed, possibly because he appears at first glance to be one of the identikit George Best/Rodney Marsh/Stan Bowles long-haired, wayward wasters who were two a new pee twenty years ago. It is true that he was as outrageously gifted as the best of the breed, and that these gifts were appaulingly underexploited throughout his career (he only played for England on two or three occasions, and towards the end of his time at Arsenal could not even gain a place in the first team); all this and more -- his temper, his problems with managers, the fierce devotion he attracted from younger fans and women -- was par for the course, commonplace at a time when football was beginning to resemble pop music in both its presentation and consumption.

Charlie George differed slightly from the rebel norm on two counts. Firstly, he had actually spent his early teenage years on the terraces of the club for which he later played; and though this is not unusual in itself -- plenty of Liverpool and Newcastle players supported these clubs when they were young -- George is one of the few genius misfits to have jumped straight over the perimeter fence into a club shirt and shorts. Best was Irish, Bowles and Marsh were itinerant...not only was George Arsenal's own, nurtured on the North Bank and in the youth team, but he looked and behaved as if running around on the pitch dressed as a player were the simplest way to avoid ejection from the stadium. Physically he did not fit the mould: he was powerfully built and over six feet tall, too big to be George Best. On my birthday in 1971, shortly before his goal against Newcastle, one of the frequent red mists that plagued him had descended, and he had grabbed a rugged Newcastle defender by the throat and lifted him from the ground. This was not misfit petulance, this was hard-man menace, and the likely lads on the terraces have never had a more convincing representative.

And secondly, he was not a media rebel. He could not give interviews (his inarticulacy was legendary and genuine); his long, lank hair remained unfeathered and unlayered right up until the time he unwisely decided upon a bubble perm from hell some time in the mid-seventies, and when he first played in the team, at the beginning of the 69/70 season, it looked suspiciously as if he were trying to grow  out a number one crop; and he seemed uninterested in womanizing -- Susan Farge, the fiancee whose name I still remember, is intimidatingly prominent in most of the off-the-pitch photographs. He was a big star, and the media were interested, but they didn't know what to do with him. The Egg Marketing Board tried, but their slogan, 'E for B and Charlie George', was significantly incomprehensible. Somehow, he had made himself unpackageable, media-proof -- possibly the very last star of any iconic stature to do so. (For some reason, however, he managed to remain in the otherwise collander-like consciousness of my grandmother for some years after his retirement. 'Charlie George!' she spat disapprovingly and opaquely circa 1983, when I told her that I was off to Highbury to watch a game. What he means to her will, I fear, never be properly understood.)

[Exerpted from Nick Hornby's Fever Pitch (Riverhead, 1992), p. 56.]

Lampard Takes CFCnet Player of the Year

It should be no surprise that members of CFCnet, Chelsea FC's brilliant unofficial site, voted Frank Lampard Chelsea Player of the Year for the 2004/05 season.  John Terry -- perhaps loved even more outside the Chelsea community than within it -- was voted a close second.

Lampard is a wonderful player; he is just the same player who transferred from West Ham in 2001 but who kept on improving and getting physically stronger and stronger, beyond all imagining.

His consistency and aggressiveness winning ball about the center circle and going forward up the middle is only overshadowed by the danger of his dipping ball struck hard from the central flats.  This, combined with danger coming from out wide through Duff and Robben, makes defending against Chelsea so difficult.

Lampard is a straight-ahead player.  Not always pretty and no Zidane, he is tireless, effective and full of heart.

The membership of CFCnet could do worse than Lamps.  Brilliant!

Shaun Wright-Phillips to Chelsea

A certain camp anticipates Shaun having difficulty in Chelsea's four-three-three formation simply because he had a nervous first run out for England when they tested in that shape.

Well, Chelsea's formation is more of a four-five-one than a four-three-three.  It is fluid from the waist up in the attack with strict roles for everyone when defending.

Shaun, to his credit, is capable of assault from either flank or inside, and his improvisational pluck fits snugly in the Chelsea counter-attacking mold.

Given the variety of silverware Chelsea will covet again, SW-P at a high cost still makes sense for them.  Shaun will improve with such quality around him; no question he can develop.

There will be injuries again this term -- as everyone will be after Chelsea's nut -- and the great number of games means that playing time will not be that difficult for Mr Mourinho to manage with the luxury of his expensive roster.  As Jose says, "It is not my problem, it is their problem."

We'll see if all the focus on money is beside the point at Chelsea.  Neither the League Title, the FA Cup nor the Champions' League are a shoe-in this go-round.  But clearly the introduction of Shaun Write-Phillips indicates the intention of building something durable and English at Stamford Bridge.  Both of these are the right objectives.

Inter-Galactic Lessons in Football

Last night's Galaxy v. Real Madrid match at the Home Depot Center was another glaring example of "The Soccer Gap."  Real Madrid, who won 2-nil, are about the classiest group of players anywhere assembled in the world (except perhaps Liverpool or Barcelona), so they can make a good team look like The Bakers' Guild of Devonshire...on their best day.

Galacticos were just that.  And the Galaxy were wandering out of orbit.  "Danger Will Robinson!"

Zizu is the Jedi Master and everyone else in a white shirt is influenced by his uncanny first touch, firm delivery to feet or to space -- never a question which one -- and Madrid play with a confidence, tempo and sense of objective like no team in any league.

First off, it's clear why Beckham gets criticised as being "past it:" compared to Zizu, who makes it all look effortless, he looks like a call-up from the Salamanca Reserves.  However, Becks' work-rate never flags and he doesn't tend to give the ball away easily or when he's not taking a calculated risk.

Michael Owen is a charm.  He deserves to start with such consistent quality, although it is likely that his scoring rate as a substitute last season was abetted by the advantage the speedy one takes in coming on late, against tired legs.  This alone, is why I'll be surprised to see him leave if he is consistently used late in every match.  It's possible the constant rumours of his dis-ease at Real Madrid are constructed as a red herring to mask this effective tactic.

My favorite Galactico -- a testament to Globalization -- is a Dane who moved to Madrid this year from Everton.  It is Thomas Gravesen.  He plays the Roy Keane/Claude Makalele position like Thomas Gravesen.  Everything starts through Gravesen.  He is tough, takes no guff and looks a freight in a smooth pate.  Gravesen is a key for the Real build up.  And ever so steady.

Roberto Carlos is about the worst defender to ever be voted best left back in all of football.  The product of his Left Foot, however, usually registers on the scoreboard.  I'll keep RC.

Zinedine Zidane is simply still the best footballer on Planet Earth.  Apart from his shimmering smoothness, deception and otherworldly first touch, it's clear he is tactically used well at Real as the conduit for every single attack or counter.  He tackles back -- enough to be a niusance -- but lurks on the upfield edge of the action when the opposing team has the ball, pouncing to good purpose in precisely the right position when the ball is stripped.  This is a footballer; and you can see how his approach influences everyone else's first touch too.  I'm getting a Zidane shirt.  He is a cat.

Hornby's Circumspect Football Lunatic

Nick Hornby's Fever Pitch (Riverhead, 1992) introduces to the literary canon a character we know well: the Football Lunatic, who never misses a home match.  This is everyone's second cousin or boyfriend or office colleague who neither rain, violence, racist chanting nor months on end of ugly negative football will ever keep from the [insert name of your local football ground] terraces of any given Saturday.

If you've found FUSSnotes, then it is likely that you are -- or are acquainted personally with -- a Football Lunatic; so this book will tell you more about your world than you may have ever surmised on your own.

Others liked it too.  Said Michael Palin (ex-Python),

"Good books about football could be counted on the teeth of Nobby Stiles' upper jaw...Fever Pitch is a small classic."

In Ireland, where meter & meaning are prized nearly as much as a pint, the Irish Times effused:

"He has put his finger on the truths that have been unspoken for generations.  Furthermore he writes beautifully."

Viera's Juve Move

...is good for both Juventus and Arsenal.

This is a canny move on Wenger's part, who's getting decent money for a player past his best and who's correct to rebuild Arsenal's leadership and culture while the younger players -- particularly Fabregas and Flamini -- are showing maturity ahead of schedule.

Wenger may already have Mahamadou Diarra (Lyon), Samir Nasri (Marseille) or Modeste M'Bami (PSG) lined up to fill in Viera's spot, if not Jermaine Jenas. But regardless of a "replacement" or not, he is smart to release Viera now and not later when Viera is in the midst of the midfield's understanding which would then need to be unwound.

Arsenal's clique of French-speaking players (Pires, Henry, Flamini, Cygan, Clichy, Lauren, Eboue, Toure') will be disrupted by the departure of the Captain at their center, and this may make the Highbury locker room more hospitable for Ashley Cole and the other non-French-speaking players.  Cliques are debilitating to team spirit and performance; they reflect a failure of managment (on multiple levels) and we have heard about Arsenal's trouble here.  A change of culture -- even a modest one -- would give Wenger (a Frenchman) credibility and influence across his whole squad, particularly where players may have felt excluded before.  It may even be a significant enough reason for changing Viera out.

There are indications that Thierry Henry will now captain the side.

Real Frees Figo

Real Madrid have approved Figo's no-fee transfer.  The player must decide now between Liverpool and Internazionale.  My guess is it'll be red since the quality there is exciting and Figo has already indicated an interest to test his mettle in the Premiership.  Otherwise, the choice is difficult, given the quality too at Inter: Stankovic, Cruz, Adriano, now Solari, Veron et al.

Silly Me...

The pedantic idiocy of this last post, "Pity Gerrard...," was made clear to me last night as I watched a summer rerun of LFC v. Crystal Palace (played Nov 2004) in which Liverpool pulled a 3-2 win with an 89th-minute goal -- a penalty and hat-trick by Milan Baros.  Asking Liverpool fans to have perspective is like asking Newcastle to defend.

What I noticed in this review is the KOP's importance to what occurs on the field.  I had noticed that before, but this time its significance came home.

On the evening, Ian Dowie's men had already overachieved to go level at 2's away at Anfield.  A quality evening for any Palace contributor in which he can put away his lunchpail, cherish the exhaustion and have a satisfying beer.  Miller Time, innit?  But Palace was backs against the KOP with Liverpool's wide Fullbacks, Traore and Finnan, pressing up in a menacing fashion.  (The beauty of four-four-two is that it becomes two-four-four very quickly when the blood is up.)  Palace were tired and Xabi Alonso and Louis Garcia were getting too much time in the middle.  It seemed unlikely Palace could keep another out.

'Twelfth Man' offers no satisfying explanation.  It is the commitment.  That commitment from the stands demands a certain level of quality, commitment and togetherness from the team when the ball is live.  Hearing the crowd sing "LIIIIH VAH PEWL, LIIII VAAAHHH PEWL, LIIII VAH PEWL," this is when it finally occurred to me where Liverpool FC's class comes from -- and it doesn't matter whether a player is Spanish, Finnish or from Huyton.

Liverpool -- the team and its community -- is class and it is the KOP's uncomprimising demands which make them so hard on Steven Garrard at times like Gerrard's negotiating feaux pas.  But these are the same values from which Liverpool derives such classy football.  They are inseparable; therefore it may be a while before Gerrard will be forgiven.  Let's see again in August.