On the Sixth Day of Christmas, FIFA gave to me

Six Meals-a-Making,

Five Golden Gooooooooaaaaaallls!,

Four Failing Clubs,

Three French Men,

Two Keeper’s Gloves

and A Whistle Happy Referee

If you’re a big fan of Spanish football, on the national or La Liga level, this might be the one day, out of the twelve on offer, tailor-made for you.  Then again, it may be more like the Emperor’s New Clothes.

There is no question that the Spaniards are deserving of their World Cup triumph.  They play the most comprehensive game on the planet, at present.  I don’t mean just the amazing skill of their short passing game, wherein Andres Iniesta, Xavi Hernandez and their cohorts, on any given day, be it Jesus Navas and David Villa, Xabi Alonso and Sergio Busquets or Cesc Fabregas, seem to always know just where everyone else are and is will be.  It goes beyond the finishing power of players like Villa, Fernando Torres, Pedro and Fernando Llorente.  Theirs is a strong defense, too, with Busquets and Alonso supporting the central pairing of Gerard Piquet and Carlos Puyol.  On the outside, Sergio Ramos and Joan Capdevila both thrill at the prospect of joining in the attack.  And Iker Casillas is omnipresent in any conversation of the world’s best keepers.

So, while the world talks about the amazing skill La Furia Roja have with the ball at their feet, many often overlook the fact that they are the best at winning it back, when they do lose it, attacking opponents in packs and inducing foolishly errant passes with regularity.  As well, as the Dutch learned, they are not above mixing it up physically, if the situation calls for it.

Unfortunately, the limits of their capabilities don’t end with a complete array of all that is good in the game.  They also are masters of the darker arts, those black sorceries which are learned at the club level in the country’s domestic leagues.

Like the national side, La Primera Liga offers some the most open, attacking and artistic football in Europe, with its closest global rival being the Brasilian Campeonato.  The problem is that, in order for that brand of play to thrive and survive, the referees must be far more protective of attacking players than anywhere else on the continent.  If they weren’t, we wouldn’t have Barcelona and Real Madrid.  Not, at least, as we now know them.  The rest of the league would soon tire of losing their most talented players to the big clubs and then being ripped apart by them four times a year.  Defensive tactics to stop them would be explored.  Physical play and strong tackling would transform the league into a much closer cousin to Calcio or the English game.

That truth was made evident by the performance of Spanish referee Alberto Undiano in the Germany/Serbia World Cup match in South Africa, where he systematically penalised every bit of contact initiated by two clubs who are known for exactly that brand of football.

Artistic football demands intelligent players but it doesn’t take a Cruyff or a Pele to see that the referee’s intolerance can be easily exploited.  Therefore, there are any number of players who have explored their thespian side, collapsing in dramatic heaps, writhing in pain and drawing unwarranted penalties and bookings from gullible arbiters.

Of course, Spain is not the only place to find such fakery.  It exists in every league but, as with skilled dribblers and goal scorers, La Liga has more than its fair share.  Following, we offer up six of the most accomplished practitioners of chicanery in the game.   Four of them practice their black magic in La Primera Liga, although to be fair, one developed his ‘skills’in England before testing his game against the masters.  A fifth is only a season and a half removed from a two-year apprenticeship in the Spanish capital.

The Peek-a-boo

The Barcelona holding midfielder, Sergio Busquets, is one of the best in his field.  He doesn’t employ the in-your-face, rough house tactics of Mark Van Bommel or Nigel De Jong.  He doesn’t need to as he has the skill, anticipation and reflexes to separate an attacker from the ball without first causing them bodily harm.  Busquets is not above constant clutching and grabbing, however, and has perfected it to the point where he can interfere sufficiently to slow down a dribbler or cause him to over-run the ball, but not so much that a referee will call him on it.   He is incessant at the practice, as well, often drawing the type of retaliation from an aggrieved opponent that does catch an official’s attention.

In the 2010 Champions League Semi-Final second leg, at the Nou Camp, Busquets pulled off his most famous performance to date.  Barça came into the match having lost at the Giuseppe Meazza, to Inter, 3-1.  They needed  a two goal victory with a clean sheet to advance to a defence of their title, in Madrid.

If any team were capable of reversing such a deficit against a Jose Mourinho led squad, it was the Catalans but Sergio was looking for an opportunity to help things along.  At the half-hour mark, he found it.   As a harried Thiago Motta ran down a loose ball rolling towards the touch-line, he sensed Busquets on his heels.  Raising his arm to ward off his pursuer, Motta inadvertently caught Busquets a glancing blow to the collar-bone.

Busquets, however, clutched his face and went down in a heap, causing  roars of indignation to sweep the Nou Camp, as he was obviously mortally wounded.  As he rolled about in exquisite pain, he flashed open his hands to see if the referee was on the hook (at .06 of the highlight).  Indeed he was, and with an hour to go in the match, Motta saw red and the Nerrazzurri were a man down.  Indignation was drowned out by approval and Motta, unable to get the official to listen to his appeal, grabbed Busquets in a headlock and delivered a furious but well deserved noogie, before exiting.

While Motta exacted personal revenge, karmic justice took care of the big picture.  Jose Mourinho is well-known for his defensive priorities and putting him down a man, for any amount of time, was probably not the best strategy to unclog the Milan box.  Gerard Pique would finally break through with 6 minutes remaining, but it only had the effect of redoubling the Inter efforts and the Blaugrana were not permitted another clear chance.

By the way, the referee who fell for the charade?  It was Belgian Franck De Bleeckere, whose subsequent misadventures at the World Cup were covered in A Whistle Happy Referee, the first article in this series.

♦   ◊   ♦

The Full Back Who Cried Wolf

We don’t have to go far to find our next culprit; he lines up alongside Sergio Busquets in the Barcelona starting XI.  Nor do we have to expend much effort to find a suitable example of the Brazilian’s hijinks.  All that’s needed is a  journey back, a week in time, and a quick puddle-jump across the Mediterranean, to Milan, for the first leg of the self-same Champions League Semi-Final.  Alves, who has been known to keel over if an antagonist should so much as fart, found that the winds weren’t in his favour on this day, as the Portuguese referee, Olegário Benquerença, was a much more discerning critic than his Flemish colleague.

With less than ten minutes to go and Barça down 3-1, Alves pulled a splendid inside-out move on Wesley Sneijder, who on his best day is no Marco Materazzi, and dashed into the box.  Sneijder recovered quickly enough to attempt a rash tackle from behind but also had the presence of mind to pull out of it just as quickly.  Still, he did manage to catch Alves on the calf but the official, fully aware of Alves repertoire of histrionics, was not convinced that the contact was sufficient to upend the full back so easily.  As he ignored the remonstrations of both sides and advanced upon Alves, Sneijder realised he was in the clear.  He and his mates quickly surrounded the still prone Brazilian international and exulted in his exposure.  All Alves could do was laugh and slap the turf in frustration.

♦   ◊   ♦

Adding Insult By Faking Injury

Of course, too often, the deceit pays off.  Against Portugal, Joan Capdevila proved that in spades, drawing a red card for Ricardo Costa of Portugal, in the World Cup round of 16.  As the Portuguese outmaneuvered Capdevila to go up for a high cross in the box, the Catalan did what comes naturally for too many products of La Liga.  He covered his face with both hands and tumbled over backwards.  Hector Baldassi, the Argentine official, was well across the field and obstructed from a clear view of the play.  Duped by Capdevila’s pantomime, he produced a very harsh red card.

The match was in the dying minutes and Carlos Queiroz’Iberians, down a goal, had not helped themselves by employing a largely holding action throughout the match, but minus a player, it was very unlikely they’d be able to muster one last attack in added time.  Capdevila had sealed their fate with an impeccable performance.

♦   ◊   ♦

The Wounded Cheeto

What is orange and red and crawls through the grass?  A wounded Cheeto is the punch line to an infantile and non-sensical joke, that for some reason, still makes me chuckle.  If  you don’t know what a Cheeto is, it’s the cheddar flavoured puffy treat that is a near relation to the crisp.   In football, however, you need only change orange to Oranje and the answer to the riddle becomes Arjen Robben.

Who do you think you are? Dani Alves?

Like Leo Messi, the Dutchman is famous for setting up on the right, cutting into the middle and unleashing laser targeted strikes on goal.  Unlike the diminutive Argentine, though, he does not bounce off physical defenders, get up immediately upon being bundled over and then go quietly about his business.  Instead, he stays down, grimacing and holding his ankles as though letting go would cause his feet to detach.

There’s no single video highlight that stands out for Robben’s theatrics.  Apparently, two years at the Santiago Bernabeu allowed him to perfect his technique but, rather than creative and varied, his style is annoyingly consistent. In lieu of video, enjoy the accompanying photo from L’Oranje’s stunning upset of Brazil in the World Cup Quarter-Finals.  Perhaps the only thing that causes you to shake your head more than seeing the Bayern man on the carpet yet again, is Robinho, of all people, displaying the temerity to lecture the fallen Dutchman on his behaviour.

As Andrew Gibney has reminded me, Brazil were, unusually, the victim of too many dives in this World Cup.  While Robben was incapable of staying on his feet for more than five minutes at a time, Kader Keita of the Ivory Coast famously had a nicked, bruised and frustrated Kaka sent off in their group stage match, by what else but covering his face and rolling about the grass after taking a short elbow to the sternum.

♦   ◊   ♦

New Kid On The Block

As I said at the beginning, diving is not an exclusive practice in Spain.  Certainly Kader Keita proves that; he has spent his playing career, since leaving his homeland, in France, Turkey and the Middle East.  Every league has their own group of players not above looking to deceive the officials to gain a competitive advantage.  In the Premier League, the new poster boy is Aston Villa’s Ashley Young, who made his big splash in a 2012 Euro qualifier, for England, against Montenegro.

Full marks for technique but a complete fail for artistic impression.

Young’s effort was so pathetically obvious that entire officiating crew must have been having a good chuckle in the changing room after the match.  Any of the veterans of the art, such as Alves, Capdevila and Busquets were surely shaking their heads at ‘kids these days.’

Ollie Irish over at Who Ate All The Pies had his fun, photoshopping Young’s high-flying antics into an excellent bit of meme comedy.

Why an England International would be flying over the Empire State building, I’m not sure.  He can’t be looking to exact revenge on Clint Dempsey for his World Cup goal against Robert Green, as the Texan can be found in Craven Cottage, not the Big Apple.  Kids these days.

♦   ◊   ♦

The Anti-Beckham

Both of them wore the number 7 shirt for Sir Alex Ferguson.  Both can perform miracles from a set piece.  Both have women mooning over them, especially when they tousle their hair or take off their shirt.  That’s where the comparison ends, however.  Admittedly, Cristiano Ronaldo has far more talent than David Beckham but it’s the latter who gets much more use out of far, far less.

Where Beckham is personable, Cristiano Ronaldo is arrogant.  Where Beckham will have a kind word to say about someone outside of his own circle, Cristiano Ronaldo is only interested in talking about Cristiano Ronaldo.  Where David Beckham will get in the face of anyone who takes liberty with his person on (or off) the pitch, Cristiano Ronaldo will go to the turf at the slightest touch and seek out the referee immediately.

These qualities are the same faults which leave the Portuguese in sharp contrast with Leo Messi, as well.  In this instance, the pair are as close to level as can be, in terms of skill, but again, it’s what each does with his that makes all the difference.

Case in point, the 2-2 draw at the San Siro between AC Milan and Real Madrid in the Champions League.   As a battle for the ball with the Rossoneri’s Ignazio Abate spilled over the touch-line, the pair continued to tussle.  When the whistle called a halt to the struggle, Abate momentarily grabbed the Madrid star by the neck but ultimately resisted the telepathic commands of millions of fans of proper football around the world (guilty) and let go.  Ronaldo, startled for a second or two, recovered, recalled his exhaustive lessons inMeal-Making.101 and covered his face, dropped to the ground, rolled about in hyperbolic agony, looked to the official and then, from the advanced course, checked for blood.

As the drama unfolded, Howard Webb walked over and had a quiet word.  Something, I like to imagine, along the lines of, “Right Cris, I’m the best referee in the world and you’re only the second best player.  So, why don’t you get up and get on with it so that I don’t have to make you look any sillier than you already do, by booking you for this farce.  There’s a good lad.”

♦   ◊   ♦

Diving has become so embedded in the game that it seems impossible to root out.  There are endless calls for new rules or tougher enforcement of existing ones to get rid of the cheats.  Unfortunately, it’s impossible to completely eradicate diving.  Players are, by nature, competitive and will always look for an edge.  Sometimes the cheating even catches the perpetrator by surprise. I’ll bet that Thierry Henry was just as surprised by his actions against Ireland as anyone else in the world.

Something can be done to make it less commonplace, however.  If instant replay is ever implemented by FIFA, complete with an official linked up to the referee by wireless radio, it’d be interesting to see it employed for this type of questionable activity, which happens far more often than misjudged goals.

Just imagine a referee coming over to a player laying on the ground, clutching his face, and asking the ‘injured’man where it hurts.  When the victim rubs his jaw or points to his nose, the official can pull out the red card and inform the recipient that his man upstairs had a perfect view of him being shoved in the chest.  A few dismissals of that sort and the word will get around.

I hope you enjoyed our look at the sneakiest players in the game.  Tomorrow, we take a look at the enforcers in WFC’s Seventh Day of Christmas:  Seven Studs-a-Stomping!  Don’t miss it.

It’s nine a.m., I’m awake…it’s my last day in Chicago. At some point, I try to plan my day but can’t pin much down, as my flight leaves at five and all I’m thinking is how am I gonna be able to watch the final that I’ve waited four years to see?

The Bucktown L stops here.

For the last few days, I’ve been staying in Bucktown, a west side suburb, with friends of friends.  It’s a nice neighborhood but where am I gonna watch the game? I run around everywhere, with my friend Hen, who is also excited for the Final. At last, outside a Spanish restaurant, we see a big sign advertising “World Cup Action Here!”

Running into the restaurant, we hear the loud voices of Spanish commentators and look around for the screen.  I notice the patrons staring at my orange jersey.  We may not be among friends.  A waiter points to the wall behind us.  Sitting down, we order drinks.

My heart is beating faster and faster, watching all the Oranje dressed players.  I don’t understand the commentators but all I care for now is a goal for our boys.

Holland puts on pressure but not blindly.  They patiently wait for their moment, remaining concentrated and not allowing the centre backs, Gerard Pique and Carlos Puyol, any space to build up the game.  Xavi is looking to pass & attack, so it’s difficult, but suddenly Arjen Robben, with his beautiful left foot, is shooting at the near post, almost scoring for the Dutch.  The minutes are ticking, our dream is still alive, yet half time is nearing and I realise that I’ll have to run to the airport in a few minutes.

The O'Hare concourse, decked out for the World Cup?

Quickly, I pay for our drinks and we rush back to the house, for our bags, and catch a cab to O’Hare.  It’s two-thirty and there’s traffic.  Thankfully, we’re not too far away.

At the airport, in the baggage check line, someone behind us notices my jersey.

“Did you guys watch Holland play?” he asks, so I tell him our story. He tells me the game is scoreless in extra time and I feel more at ease.  Hen is wearing a guilty smile.  Apparently, his girlfriend has been texting him the score on his cell but he’s been letting me sweat.

There’s a big line, getting through security, so we pass the time chatting with our new friend.  On the other side, there’s a cafe.  We can hear what sounds like the game, coming from a television.  Finally, we’re cleared to pass.  As we walk through, I hear excited shouts coming from the cafe.  Trembling, I hurry over to see what’s happened.

Dutch grief.

On the screen, the cameras shift to Spanish flags waving wildly in the crowd.  My heart drops.  I still don’t want to believe, even when I see Holland 0 – Spain 1.  My world breaks apart and I cross my hands on my head in disbelief.  I see that it is but in my mind, it can’t be happening. Not in the 116th minute.  We were so close!  Numb and in shock, I can’t stand watching that painful moment we had tried so hard to avoid.

Not paying attention on my way to the departure gate, I end up in a completely different part of the airport. I feel like a robot.  After searching, I find our gate and drop to the floor, putting my head between my legs.  When the boarding announcement rings out, I rise mechanically and without responding to the smiling attendant, who checks my ticket, just go to my seat.

Across the aisle, two young pricks begin singing, “Viva Espana y Campeone!”

Laughing, they know it’s their pleasure to stab the knife even deeper into my heart.  Looking them in the face, I keep calm.  Then I settle back into my seat and close my eyes.  I have eight hours, over the Atlantic, where I don’t have to know if I’m in reality or a dream.

Fabio Capello has claimed several times that Beckham’s appearances in his England team are based purely on current merit. This seemed a touch doubtful as Beckham made numerous substitute cameos to overtake Bobby Moore’s 108 international caps, but even with the steely Italian in charge, there is always room for a touch of sentimentality in football. But, for the first time in years, competition in the England squad is genuinely fierce, particularly in midfield. A plane ticket to South Africa for David Beckham would leave a lot of fans pleased, just as many sceptical, and some good premiership midfielders spending the summer at home.

It is a common assertion that any successful squad requires the mix of youth and experience. Beckham’s knowledge and experience would be very useful to the younger players in the squad, but his own world cup record is far from flattering. A now infamous sending off against Argentina in 1998, carrying an injury against the much slicker 10-man Brazil in 2002, and struggling in the heat of Germany in 2006, it’s clear Beckham’s best moments at World Cups have been in qualifying. The almost one-man show against Greece in 2002 will always be used as the example of Beckham’s determination and will to win. And rightly so, it was a memorable performance. But by the end of the 2006 tournament, Beckham’s international career seemed over. Owen Hargreaves’performance against Portugal showed that perhaps Beckham was no longer required. Hargreaves took it on himself to carry the 10-man England team through 120 minutes against Portugal with a display of real leadership. It is arguable that this is what makes Beckham such a hero to many England fans, there have always been technically better players than Beckham, but for many years, he was England’s most important player and the heartbeat of the team.

For the large number of Beckham-cynics however, identifying Beckham the footballer has become increasingly tricky. The move to Los Angeles Galaxy only reinforced the longstanding idea of Beckham’s desire for celebrity status and that football had become just one part of “Brand Beckham.” This is not meant as a swipe at Beckham’s career or marketability. He quite clearly possesses an acute business brain, but it makes it difficult for fans to take him seriously as a world cup candidate while his rivals are competing in the Premier League.

Beckham has just returned to AC Milan for a second loan spell in two years. It is testament to either his personal levels of fitness, or the level of intensity in the American league that he is even attempting a full MLS season, then half a Serie A season plus a Champions League campaign, all to be followed by a world cup. Should Beckham impress again at Milan then the bandwagon for 2010 will rightly gather momentum. If David Beckham still possesses the ability to play at one of Europe’s top clubs, especially in the European cup, then his place in the England squad will be much easier to defend. It does however beg the question: were there any real football motivations behind his move to the MLS if he was still good enough to play with Europe’s elite every week?

Regardless, the months to come are crucial to Beckham’s bid for a fourth world cup place, and inevitably he will apply himself with great professionalism and determination to achieve a squad place. And it would be a magnificent personal achievement for Beckham. Michael Owen has struggled to make any sort of impact at Manchester United, and the form of his rivals for England’s striker allocation should mean that his place on the plane to South Africa has already been provisionally taken. Beckham also faces stiff competition. As the world cup draws nearer, many fans will be working out their own versions of what the squad should look like. On current form, it is tricky to fit Beckham in the top 8 or 9 English midfielders, which is roughly the number that would be taken in the squad, particularly on the right hand side, Aaron Lennon for example has shone for an attacking and pacey Tottenham side so far this season.

An England squad that could move on from the likes of Beckham and Owen and finally look to build a new, younger side would be an exciting prospect, but it is also risky and it is unlikely that the World Cup and all the expectation that comes with that for England will be seen as the best time to take such a risk. Finding a place for Beckham is a safe move for Capello, although many would question the decision on purely football terms, there are few who would begrudge a great servant such as Beckham one last shot at international glory. His ability on the set-play and incredible accuracy on long passing and crossing never seems to wane.

Sure, Steve Mclaren’s decision to omit David Beckham now looks premature and it is not out of the question to suggest it was taken with the primary aim of trying to cement Mclaren’s own influence over the squad. But, now Beckham’s important to the first team has surely started to diminish. To many, myself included, Beckham seems to have taken on the role of glorified cheerleader recently for England. He rises from the subs bench with around half an hour to go and re-energises the fans, inevitably his introduction always greeted with a great reception. But it has to be said that, that while the fans are happy to see him; opposition defenders, with 20 minutes to go in the World Cup quarter final, might not be so pleased to see David Beckham.

That’s all I remember from his first season; cameo displays in the last twenty minutes where he would make and be given a plethora of chances – he’d take a few of them as well. It was the ease in which he’d beat a player that was so breathtaking – at just 17 people were already starting to talk.

Five years later and Leo Messi is a regular in the Barcelona team and in contention for the Ballon D’Or again. Highlights have included three La Liga titles, two Champions League wins and a Copa del Rey, which completed the treble last season. These titles have come with some unreal performances along the way – especially one night at the Bernabeu.

I wrote about how Del Piero received one of the highest accolades in football – a standing ovation at the Bernabeu for his displays last season, but for a player from Barcelona to receive it is something else – only Ronaldinho had achieved such feat in recent years. The Bernabeu know their football and can accept when they’re in the presence of greatness.

I think Leo Messi is the most gifted footballer currently playing the game. His touch, low centre of gravity and zero back-lift combined with his excellent footballing brain and his confidence in placing his shots instead of hammering them make him one of the most deadly and prolific players in today’s game.

I’m a Manchester United fan and a massive fan of Cristiano Ronaldo – but there is something that Messi offers that draws me in even more so. I’ve always wondered which is better; a player that is unpredictable and therefore unstoppable, or a player like Messi who is slightly more predictable, but nevertheless, unstoppable.

The ‘Maradona’tag has been lambasted around too often. Pablo Aimar, Javier Savola and many others have accrued to this name but after much analysis it’s clear to see Messi comes closer than all of them. He’s even replicated Maradona’s two (in)famous goals. Beating the same amount of players and running roughly the same distance for his wonder goal and for the other, using his hand. Let’s be fair though, Messi is a great player in his own right.

If Maradona is the acid test at International level then Ronaldinho holds that mantle for his time at club level. Comparisons of his impact can be made to Ronaldinho having achieved the same at club level.

Nicknamed the “Messiah” he saved Barcelona a few times last season. The Champions League game against Shaktar the most memorable – 1-0 down with 15 minutes to play – enter Messi.

It has quickly become Messi’s team following the departure of Ronaldinho – and his levels of performance for his club team are not in question here – the ultra critical eye will look towards his tenure with the national team.

Last month in his hometown of Rosario, Messi was frustrated as Argentina lost to Brazil. He showed clear signs of disappointment due to the lack of quality from his team mates. It’s fair to say Argentina aren’t the best side in the world at the moment but would Maradona have acted in the same manner? Something which Messi has to learn when playing for his country is that he has to take on more responsibility.

Messi’s tendency to stay out wide could be considered a limitation. Cristiano Ronaldo for example often swaps flanks, goes down the middle and appears in the box. Messi does sometimes drift but he spends the majority of the game out on the right wing. This limitation may occur due to the nature of his Barcelona team, regardless it does restrict his impact on a game from time to time. It’s not a problem when Xavi and Iniesta are pulling the strings but the boy who moved to Spain at 11 to treat his growth hormone deficiency must adapt all over again because great players pull through no matter the circumstance.

Messi recently said he admired Rooney’s passion for the game.

“When he loses, it hurts and those are the sort of players you want to be playing with.

“I can understand the pressure on him, but to be honest, from what I have seen, Rooney is the sort of player who would thrive playing under pressure.”

That’s built in to Wayne Rooney it’s not something you learn, but something you have and the same could be said about Maradona. The question is, when it goes down to the wire can Messi put in that performance or score that goal that makes the difference on the International scene? Only then will he be considered truly one of the best – but time is on his side.

But you’d have to doubt Messi at your peril as he takes in a good goal scoring record to Argentina on Saturday where lowly Peru will undoubtedly struggle with a player that’s in a different league.