LOVE AND FOOTBALL

My sweetheart asked to take her to the Movies on a Saturday afternoon. If it was a test, then, in her reckoning, I was about to fail. On a Saturday afternoon… I just might be indisposed. Since then, I have thought and thought about this thing… this… this… phenomenon that deprives girls… girls who usually are busy all week… this phenomenon that deprives them of their boos on weekends. Some guys just quit it and roll out with their ladies… thinking it’s a mere frivolity; some others stick to it in spite of their ladies… expecting such ladies to go to hell – that’s downright wrong! But then, there are others, like me, who place a high value on both. One is a passing phase that must be chewed and digested… to prepare us well for the other that ought to last a lifetime. Maybe. Or, is it inordinate to love it so? Is my attachment to it a confirmation that I do not love my girl as much as I thought… in which case it becomes a rude awakening for her to exit my life? I think not. Certainly, there is more to Pro Ball than meets the eye.

For the following Saturday, I came up with a sobering retreat. When it came, I sat it out at home – going neither to the Movies nor to the Viewing Center. Of course, she was still fuming from last weekend’s disappointment, so I wasn’t expecting her because my apologies had, simply put, not been profuse enough. The chores of washing my few clothes, cleaning, and cooking my one-square meal weren’t enough to take up all my time, and so, for the major part of that day, I sat pondering. And then, on Sunday after Mass and Lunch, the same thing. I didn’t call her. I tried to explore who I missed: her or the games. When my impatience peaked and I found myself at “scores” on goal.com, I became really scared.

IS OUR LOVE FOR FOOTBALL INORDINATE?

The craze is tremendous. Immense. Fans left, right, and center. Say… Man United and Chelsea schedule to faceoff at 8am on a Sunday… some ones are sure to miss Mass. When it’s Harvest and Bazaar time, we throw the Parish Priest and the Organizing Committee into some… miniature… dilemma: Is it right to entertain the “Red Devils” when they come for thanksgiving? Some of the faithful go livid… they call it an aberration of Church norms. Those encouraging it are scandalized for abandoning moral ethics in the pursuit of money. They might say, it’s a sign of the world ending… the polarization of people’s allegiance. Devotion to God suffers. But, condemn it as they might, come next weekend, we’re even crazier about it. And to think that the stage is miles and oceans away from here… What is it that holds us spellbound? At least, what is it that holds me? I can’t pinpoint anything, but I can dribble around the subject, until I feel I’ve made my point.

First and foremost,

Beginnings –

I do not know a man alive that is older or even as old as any English Premier League (EPL) Club. This thing began in obscurity as a culture… Community heads (or something of the sort) mobilized their boys, got them engaged, and enjoyed themselves with the rickety displays of the times. They developed a set of rules and stood by them. They kept faith with their contraption and thronged out every weekend to support it. It was far from colorful, financially rewarding, or easy to keep going… Truly, nothing good comes easy. Rich kids went to schools to study; the ones who couldn’t afford school remained in the blocks to play football… And the years kept coming and going.

Continuity –

If you remember correctly, there was a war in Europe around 1918, and an even bigger one in the late 1930s. There were large scale devastations, losses, deaths… Perhaps, football clubs were easy pools from where young men were recruited into the army. Perhaps some stars never shone… they died in battle. When the war ended, they picked up the pieces of their lives and rebuilt their communities, and still thronged out to support the budding tradition of football. For people still afflicted by the trauma of war, football was a welcome distraction. Lines of enmity were effaced and redrawn. Venoms were injected into clubs and, if you hated a city or a people so much, you tried hard to conquer their football club at the weekend. Modern warfare! Eleven soldiers apiece – each army with the backing of the land of their birth, or adoption. The battleground was measured out…  Victories were as much euphoric as historic. Quickly, the wounds of the Second World War healed, kingdoms united and, together, they beheld a glorious future.

Business –

Years on, the Businessman imagined the football culture a goldmine. They came in droves with millions (if not billions), bought mercenaries to strengthen their armies – still upholding the rules – both of the games and of how they were financially managed. With due respect, the accounting prudence in the EPL… could flaw our entire Ministry of Finance here in Nigeria. Footballers and managers began to earn a fortune. Not here: the relativism of state politics… where the answer to whether a leader was good or bad always depends. Was Mr. Tony Blair a good PM? Well… it depends… his hands were tied by international laws; otherwise he would have intervened when General Sani Abacha turned leadership upside down in Nigeria. Was Mr. Gordon Brown? Well… it depends… he did lend a hand to the quashing of Obasanjo’s third term bid. What about the guy there now? Well, it depends… All these relativism do not find much room in football. Here goes: Is Sir Alex Ferguson a good manager? One Champions League trophy, a couple of finals, several domestic trophies… he is, period! Is Jose Mourinho?

But, eventual successes are hardly what fascinate me in football managers… It is, rather, the holding your head high when you show up before the board, confident that you can wear the shoes they proffer. Know what that means? It means upholding the funds and emotions of millions around the world, and trusting yourself not to fail them in the long run. It’s not just about how much you get to earn. If Brendan Rodgers, for instance, didn’t have that self-belief, he would have cowered in his little Swansea when Fenway Sports Group came scouting. He stepped up to the plate, knowing full well that guts and novel ideas would soon be replaced by performances on the field of play. With due respect, it isn’t the same audacity in state politicians. Even if, it isn’t the same obviousness of results months down the line.

And this isn’t where you feature based on who your father is, or how connected you are. Merit is the order of the day; be you from a ghetto or a palace.

What’s more? Auxiliary industries: Sports Writers get their plum jobs from the phenomenon of football. It doesn’t matter whether their forecasts play out; they have a job! They heighten the tension. They tell us El Classico’s coming… that we should prepare… They make a lot of noise about it. And on match day, huge money is made: stadium tickets, TV rights, viewing center tickets, advertisement, sponsorships, endorsements, name them! Imagine it; for one spectacle going on in one corner of the world, money changes hands across the globe. That is, economies vibrate. Young people find fun, and jobs.

Rich owners, a pragmatic manager, world class players, vociferous fans, a state of the art stadium, match day… and we who are lovers of finished products gather round imported Television sets. We can’t grow our own football; we can’t even make the TVs with which we watch imported football!

Anybody who would rebuke me for loving football so must not let me catch him with a flashy car, or a flashy phone, or computer… or even girl. The EPL is a foreign, flashy product, and it’s enjoyable like these things. But, unlike in phones and computers and cars, in football I see how they got here. First, they began; then, with diligence, commitment and hard work, they produced the modern sport. Plus, the phenomenon continues to teach vital lessons for all of life’s endeavours: Money isn’t usually the most important thing. Very often, faith is paramount.

Patience is Vital: Things mightn’t all go your way at first. If you look back on where you’re coming from, and reexamine where you are, you’re very likely to find a reason to be thankful, keep hope alive, and trudge on.

Rejuvenation is Necessary: Though you value the humility of your beginnings; the modesty of your dreams, and all… rebuilding yourself, refocusing your targets, and revaluing your assets are wise things to do.

Faith is the Pillar of Life: When you commence a project, do not abandon it because of the tragedies in your learning curve. Be an Arsenal Fan about things: Keep Faith! Isn’t it said that Arsenal Fans make the best Christians… because of how patient they are!

Revel in Your Triumphant Moments: You win some, and lose some. Whenever you do win, ensure to jubilate. Jump, shout, be happy… but quickly sober up again; for the struggle continues.

Life is Not a Bed of Roses: Your favorite players get injured, and are out of the field for weeks, months, or even years. So too in your struggles! If there were no darkness, would light make any sense? There are painful moments in life. Usually, injury isn’t a player’s only enemy: a new manager might be hired and make plans that do not include you. Such is life. Thornton Wilder advised that we enjoy the ice cream while it’s on our plate, and leave queries and inquests be. Might I add… that even when it’s all gone, there are still the extra minutes of running our tongues around our lips before the bliss completely fades.

Finally,

Life, perforce, ends: William Wordsworth captured it thus:

A power is passing from the earth
To breathless Nature's dark abyss;
But when the great and good depart,
What is it more than this—
/That Man who is from God sent forth,
Doth yet again to God return?—
Such ebb and flow must ever be,
Then wherefore should we mourn?

Nothing lasts forever. When our favorite players start to age and lose the form of their sprightly years, we needn’t mourn… Revel in what your memory was able to keep… of the good days, and then look ahead onto the emergence of new guys. So, too, in everything. Life is a flow. All things being right, at the end of a life, as at the end of a career, gratitude is what we ought to feel.

Nowadays, therefore, in Nigeria, you can always tell the character of a man by the club he roots for. Consequently, without any malicious intent, let me venture into describing club fans the ways I perceive them.

I’ll describe modern Manchester United fans as children born with silver spoons… Things have mostly been going well for them. And the FA and the Refs have been known to favor them at times. On the few rainy days they’ve lived through, they’ve thrived by avoiding hurtful conversations and, generally, the jeers of less fortunate children. In realistic terms, they might not be so beset with gloom when “sacred-cowism” is the natural order of our government and politics… it is a cup from which they have often drunk.

It is possible that Manchester United’s fans marry after brief courtships… because they are always immersed in the euphoria of victories and so have no real prodding to ponder over nuptial necessities. They bask in surface orderliness. No one digs deep to see if the foundation is firm. It’s dangerous, and probably haunts them.

Chelsea fans have been maligned much… What have they not been called?! Touts, area boys, agberos, name it! Maybe because it is the easiest footballing outfit to identify with. There seems to be ample opportunity for everyone… not just because we have Nigerian representation, though. But, just like their Roman, they all lack patience. If every department on the pitch has more than one personnel, it is in their character to like one and hate the other. With Drogba gone, now they like Ba and malign Torres. They cherish Chec but Turnbull turns them off. They’re intolerant of Bertrand getting a run-out; Cole’s all they want to see. Fortunately or unfortunately, their misguided loyalty has nothing to do with good looks, or they wouldn’t clamor so for a Roberto over and above a Rafa.

As a manager, bench a first-teamer in order to give a growing lad some experience and you risk their wrath forever should you lose.

At face value, it should be easy to describe Arsenal fans, but it’s quite tricky, really. Some people say Catholics must learn from Arsenal – how to keep the faith; how to carry on when your miracle tarries; how to obey your Parish Priest even when you feel you know more than he does; and so on... Be that as it may, it is difficult to spot Arsenal fans in the crowd these days. They’re often the ones who tell you “I’m not a fan of any club; all I care about is good football”. And, very often, in the ways they say it, you already sense a defeatist demeanor. In the light of this, wherefore is the lesson for Catholics! We must pray always and never lose heart, never; not like Arsenal fans who are already losing faith in Arsene.

One good thing about Arsenal… it is an elitist club. Arsenal fans are gentle, civil, and intelligent. When a match ends at a viewing center, and automobiles begin to reverse and head out the gates, watch out: the MLs (Mercedes Jeeps) are Arsenal fans leaving; the Hondas (especially EODs and Baby Boys), that’s Manchester United fans leaving; other cars, plus tricycles, motorcycles, and men afoot… that’s the all-encompassing Blue embrace!

Manchester City’s still an unfurling package… No ardent or faithful fan yet, or such a one is hopelessly confused. Let this blaze of glory ebb and we shall know how perpetual indeed that franchise is.

One beautiful thing about the EPL is that, those who cannot win the league, are at least shopping malls for those who can… so that, though you win the league and get the prize money, it’s West Ham who’s jubilating… because they know you’re coming to the market soon.

With due respects to Tottenham Hotspur and Everton, the only other club worthy of mention in this piece is the Anfield outfit. Liverpool fans are a special breed, and, so, rare. They sow a good seed, water it, and then stand back and wait. They say they have history, class, and tradition… they really do. They’re keen on getting the fundamentals right.

I know this because I am one… and the inquests I have been making in the process of trying to put a ring on my sweetheart’s finger further confirms it. For instance, I am concerned about where she spent her childhood, and what she spent it doing. I’d rather have a girl who was a Catholic but isn’t any more, than one who becomes on account of my marriage to her. I’d rather be confronted by her reasons for leaving, than by her shallowness and easy switch to my boat. By and large, I’d prefer a girl who’s fundamentally a Catholic – which will mean she has a thorough faith… A girl that isn’t a sucker for materialistic miracles and breakthroughs… A girl who doesn’t delude herself that each and every trial requires a miracle to annihilate it… A girl who doesn’t read and digest the Scriptures disjointedly and so thinks that life is a bed of bible roses… A girl who’s awed by the docility of Mother Mary and adopts the Church’s approach to seeking the influence of the Blessed Mother of Jesus... Because when we age, and the whole fiery immensity of Pentecostalism dwindles, and the youths of the day sag the standards further – to our chagrin and dismay – it is such structured and thorough doctrine that we’ll cling unto. If we do not have it, then we might wallow in bitter senescence.

Since Liverpool fans are thorough, and have had plenty victories and defeats in this life, it could therefore be argued that they are the most trained for success in socio-religious pacts such as matrimony. Liverpool could lose three games in a row, and show up for the fourth unfazed and ready to give their all… It is the case in the lives of Liverpool fans I know… People say you could lose… but that also means you could win. Therefore, prepare to win. Do all you can… all you should, so that, every time it occurs, failure is a surprise… and a lesson. A girl rolling with a Liverpool fan has got to have an idea of this, and patiently and smartly tag along. If I’d rather go see a game than take her to see a movie once in a while, she ought to know it’s for the best.

Being a football fan can be that far-reaching… Not that the club makes you who you are, but that you instinctively identify with the club because of who you are. Possibly, personality types can be deduced from or compounded into this subject.

MY ELEVEN

If I’m asked to field a team for an important match… to pick from the potpourri of stars that make the EPL what it is… I’ll only bemoan my lack of tact awhile, and then get down to business. I have to show up! And I have to do my utmost not to lose.

So, here goes…

1.       Almost any goalkeeper can be good; if you just be in your elements, you’d make it a miserable day in the office for the best strikers… So, there’ll hardly be a bad choice here. I’ll just pick DAVID DE GEA because, even if I hate to admit, donning the Manchester United jersey almost doubles the natural talent of a player. There, little guys do great things.

     2.     It’s not as difficult to make a choice here as in 3. Given the strength of a squad picked from the EPL’s finest, there’ll be no real need for anyone to play double roles. Therefore, anyone picked must be found to be duly competent for the specific task assigned them rather than what else they can do. The EPL has 2s and 3s overlapping seriously these days… so that they soon become 7s and 11s and, sometimes, 8s and 9s. That isn’t the ideal. The person here must be more this than anything else. My guy surpasses this requirement… and makes it appear as if he’s on drugs. Manchester City’s MICAH RICHARDS is the man!

  

      3.       A strong 3’s very important… because that’s where the right-footed attackers approach from. And when a 3’s twisted this way and that, having only one foot – as it were, Valencia-like guys can elude them and cause goalmouth troubles for you. Therefore, a strong, pacey, experienced 3 is vital. Not quite Everton’s Leighton Baines, so I’ll pick Chelsea’s ASHLEY COLE.

    

      4.       The way 4s are used these days is a relatively new invention in football. Not all teams have it clearly spelt out, anyway. It’ll be clear in my team… that I need a Mikel-like player… to hover ahead of my 5 and 6 and douse the intensity of attackers before they inevitably face-off with the back men… To hold them off, until as many men as possible return home. The same guy has to be Alonso-like… to advance whenever the coast is clear… or to launch rocket passes to distant parts of the field – pinpoint passes. It means he has to have eagle eyes… to quickly scan and know the striker that has the most advantage to charge at the goal, and to find him with a delicious pass. This plus, when attack is what we need to do, to push the team up-field. To step up to the Number 10’s place, and marshal more men into attack. The 4 would have a lot to do; a ready-made man might not suffice: he will have some and lack some qualities. The best is to build one yourself – a new Alonso – and who best to build him, than the man who built the first one! My man is Chelsea’s ORIOL ROMEU.

     5.       Managers often look for no-nonsense guys to man the heart of their defense. It’s in order. I’ll do the same. I’ll pair two generals here… who have sacred respect for the Eighteen Yard Area… and do their inevitable dirty works outside it. My men would be Manchester City’s VINCENT KOMPANY and,

    6.       Manchester United’s NEMANJA VIDIC.

    7.       The wings… here come the runners… alert to know when they’re let loose by the 4 or 10, and careful to be on-side. This guy has to have techniques for evading defenders. My guy has that, and he’s quick. Call him EDEN HAZARD. He’s from Chelsea!

    8.       My enigma… slightly ahead of the 10, but behind the 9. He’s the link… the lubricator of the attack. He delivers the 10’s instructions to the 9. Or he could run the errand himself. Call him the Aide-De-Camp to the Number 9. Mails for the marksman often come through him… except when the wings are used. He mesmerizes defenses by running mazes… and goes alone when defenders bottle the 9. Means he can score… you know… Manchester City’s DAVID SILVA’s my guy!

   9.       He has to be on song… has to be beaming with confidence… Naturally, you find these in my guy. Plus, he brings more to the table: This guy gives himself comfort on the ball with his long legs, and then makes the ball inaccessible to defenders… Has a deadly left foot, and has gone on to learn to viciously use his right as well. Now, the left is for long-range goals, and the right, for tap-ins.  He’s deadly at set-pieces, because of the banananess of his takes. You know my guy, I’m sure. Manchester United’s ROBIN VAN PERSIE!

   10.   With reliable lieutenants in my 4, 7, 11, and 8, my 10’s job is made easier and to the point: connect the team; dictate the tempo; ensure the game flows… like river currents; provide the range the men upfront require… In this office, experience is more important that youth, so, Liverpool’s STEVEN GERRARD is my guy.

   11.   This guy repeats my 7’s job at the opposite side of the field. Pace, strength, speed, confidence… a little skill… Tottenham Hotspur’s GARETH BALE.

THERE’S MY TEAM!

LUIS SUAREZ IS ON THE BENCH.

Religion has got a lot of sycophants now.  

Politics? Tufia!

Education? What’s that?!

Trade. Economy. Science. Entertainment. Yuck!

I dare say, I love football… because it is the only thing that works on earth.

April 2013.