a tall man

I first saw football on TV one summer in Kolkata, at my grandparents house. Something called the world cup was on. A television had just been purchased. The newspaper published a photograph of a knee, and the caption - If you see this knee, kick it. That was 1986, and that was Diego Maradona's knee. The hot summer days flew by, as I watched all the matches I could, and I fell in love with football.

With the advent of cable tv, I started to watch british football on television in the 90's while i worked in a call centre job late at night. After finishing my shift around midnight, I would get home, and would have no social life, but just the television, and it was about 8pm UK time, so I would have some amazing football to watch. I saw Thierry Henry run one night on a small 14 inch tv and I was hooked. Arsenal became my club. A new manager had joined them, from Japan, and he talked like someone from the future. This was all so fascinating. He talked and talked about stuff when they asked him stuff, and he answered in depth, with thought and intelligence. 

As a fan, all I can say is that Arséne Wenger gave us fans something to be proud of. For the past decade, rival club supporters and then some of Arsenal's supporters, started to taunt us in earnest. On the field we were being kicked off and the referees and moneymen were bullying us. Off the field, we were bullied by those who did so, just because they could. 

I have watched and listened hungrily to the press conference of Arséne for most of his 22 yrs at this club and seen every match if not live on tv, then a recording.It became something that reminded me of those days, when I was struggling to make a career, alone in a big city, living in a crummy little room and working insane hours. Arsenal was a living presence in my life, something to look forward to, a tribe to belong to, values to adhere to and a mythology was being built. For 10 yrs a winning team strode rampant on the footballing scene and then Arsene moved on. He started to build the club itself. That was the scale of his ambition. 

I do not doubt for a minute, that Arséne deviated from those values. A lot of the magic came from his behind the scenes work, and brick by brick, a value system, style and ethos was built up. Of course there were foundations, and a glorious past, not denying that.

However, from head to toe, from the laces on the boots to the light on top of the stadium, Arséne transformed the club. He made it future ready and fully equipped for the current age. This was one of the most amazing sustained professional jobs executed by any professional. Even the Taj Mahal was built in 20 yrs.

Well Played Sir!!

german prank - sponsored by adidas ?

The short and long of it is this... Two Germans created soccer balls filled with cement, labeled them "can you kick it?" and chained them to posts all over the city. Supposedly they caused a lot of physical harm because a ton of Germans tried kicking the balls... The german police didn't think it was funny, and probably had their terrorist unit on the case. They hunted down the two... based on serious "leads"... found their "workshop" where they made the cement balls.

one of the rumours floating around

Reports from France suggest the following is the exchange that took place between the two.

Zidane holding his shirt says to to Materazzi:

ZZ: "Ordinanza de tirare il costume!!" (stop pulling on my shirt!!)

MM": "Taciti, enculo, hai solamente cio che merite..." (shut up f*cker, you only get what you deserve)

ZZ: "si e cio..." (yes, sure...)

While Zidane starts to move away, Materazzi goes:
MM: "meritate tutti ciò, voi gli enculato di musulmani, sporchi terroristici" (all of you deserve that, f*cking Muslims, terrorist b*stards)

et tu zidane?

so the world cup has ended. Football fever is over. Zidane has retired. After a beautiful flowing balletic performance against Brazil where he showed everyone what football could be like, Zidane could not sustain the enthusiasm against Italy. He probably felt that he didnt need to put up with this any longer, and any opponent who tweaked his nipple would have to pay for it. Also it was a deadened game, the Italians defending with 11 men in the goal and doggedly holding out for the penalty shootout. Zidane gave it his best, almost getting the winner when his header was just barely tipped over the crossbar by the Italian goalkeeper, Buffon.

What a display though. What a team. Beautiful passing, stout clean straightforward attacks. Sharp tough defending, clever and skilful midfield, ceaselessly running wingers, the panther like henry prowling upfront. This was truly a worthy team to play your last game with. They produced the few moments of brilliance in the final and a fairer world would have seen them win. However it was not to be. Italian football needed a boost and thats what it got. May the show go on. But you will never see the likes of Zidane again. Someone who grew up in the rough part of Marseille, a child of immigrants, a serious man who honed his craft in the toughest leagues in the world.

as he says in his own words " 'It's hard to explain but I have a need to play intensely every day, to fight every match hard,' he told me. 'And this desire never to stop fighting is something else I learnt in the place where I grew up. And, for me, the most important thing is that I still know who I am. Every day I think about where I come from and I am still proud to be who I am: first, a Kabyle from La Castellane, then an Algerian from Marseille, and then a Frenchman.'"