As World Cup Finals go, the one played out between Argentina and West Germany in 1986 would take some beating for drama. The game seemed won, before being cast into huge doubt, and then a late winner decided the issue in favour of the South American passion play. Although he didn’t score in the final, the tournament will, for a variety of reasons, be largely remembered with Diego Maradona as the star. That said, even the great Argentine icon would surely concur that others too warranted great credit and acclaim. Standing alongside giants can often mean that a shadow falls across others, obscuring their brightness, but they too have a tale to tell that can throw light on events. Jorge Luis Burruchaga is one of those oft-perceived-to-be lesser lights, but as the scorer of the late goal that ascended La Albiceleste to the heavens, his is a story crying out to be told. Continue reading →
“He sat there silent, watching their love expire.” A lament for Arsène Wenger through the prism of Marcel Proust’s ‘À la Recherche du Temps Perdu.’
The title of Proust’s epic seven-volume masterpiece has been variously translated as either “In Search of Lost Times” or “Remembrance of Things Past.” Either seems to broadly fit the theme of the stories it contains, such being a retrospective consideration on the loss of time and lack of meaning to the world as the years pass by with increasing regularity. Perhaps however there are further insights to be taken from the work, and if I can borrow a few of quotations from the various elements of the book, they may help to throw a light on the particularly troubled waters being negotiated by the Arsenal manager currently, and why his endeavours may be fated to fail. Continue reading →
I’ve heard it said that non-football fans are – to paraphrase Bart Simpson – the MTV Generation, knowing neither highs nor lows. Anyone not hooked up with a femme fatale of a football club – someone upon which you pour your affections, only to be scorned and disheartened at so many turns – is incapable of understanding the all-too-brief but euphoric highs of success for the object of your adoration. Sometimes though, albeit so very rarely, those highs linger and join together to offer an enticing view of a world full of joy and bereft of despair and disappointment, a sunlit upland that will be yours for ever and ever; your club becomes dominant – the paragon, a beauty inarnate, the iconoclast that kicks down the rules of normal roller-coaster emotions. Into the mid-nineties, the Barcelona team of Johann Cruyff was such a team. Continue reading →
There’s an old saying that goes something along the lines of ‘the only way to make a small fortune owning a football club is to begin with a large fortune.’ A club may be pottering along, very much as it has done for most of its existence, then someone takes control and starts investing money, the club grows in inverse relationship to the amount of money that the owner has – then comes the crunch.
The owner decides he’s spent enough and divests himself of the costs. The club plummets and ends up in a far worse state than before the money came along. For some clubs, it even leads to destruction as the bright, attractive, but ultimately destructive flare of its owner’s ambition burns out, leaving behind merely ashes, memories and regrets. Stories such as this, tinged with pathos, are common across the game, and fitting right into the model is the period covering the late eighties and early nineties for Belgian club KV Mechelen and IT business magnate John Cordier. The club lived the dream – the electric dream of its owner’s ambition – and then awoke with a hangover. Continue reading →
The history of football is replete with tales of brothers who played the game. Stories of their similarities, differences and achievements vary, but none perhaps come near to the story of Archie and John Goodall. “Who?” I hear you say. You may well ask. Their names are hardly known now – perhaps outside of Preston and Derby – but the exploits and successes of the Goodall boys, around the turn of the nineteenth century, surely far exceed anything managed by football-playing siblings ever since. Born a year apart, in 1863 and 1864 respectively, they set a number of firsts-ever achievements and records, many of which stand to this day.
The Goodall’s father was a Scottish soldier, a corporal in the Royal Scottish Fusiliers, serving in the British Army. As such, although the family home was in Scotland, military assignments took Goodall Snr, and his family, on many journeys. All of which explains why John was born in London, and Archie in Belfast. This quirk of their father’s profession would also mean them playing for different countries – neither of which was Scotland. So, what was so special about John and Archie Goodall? Continue reading →
Aged just 35, to say Adam Crozier was a surprise choice to step into the role of Chief Executive at the FA would be understating the case more than a little. The former Saatchi & Saatchi executive was, however, the new broom, the fresh face, the untarnished non-old school tie appointment that the organisation needed. It was 2000, and going into the new millennium, dusty old corridors were well overdue a spring clean. In two years, Crozier shook up the Football Association in a way it hadn’t experienced throughout a history dating back to 1863 – or, for that matter, since.
The organisation’s headquarters were moved from Lancaster Gate to more modern facilities at Soho Square. The average age of staff was reduced from over 55 to just 32, the redevelopment of Wembley Stadium was progressed and the FA Council, nominally its controlling body, was reduced from 91 members, to a much more manageable 12. Without doubt though, the most revolutionary of Crozier’s achievements was to appoint the first foreign manager to head up England’s national team. In January 2001, Swedish manager Sven-Göran Eriksson was invited by Crozier to step into the hottest of managerial hot seats. The Swede accepted and the Walls of Jericho came a-tumbling down. Continue reading →
After the murder of Julius Caesar, Shakespeare has Mark Antony’s deliver a soliloquy wherein he selects this particular phrase to enflame the wrath of the masses against the assassins of the dead Emperor and implore them to deliver dread vengeance, even invoking the spirit of the departed Caesar to rise up from the dead and echo his call.
It’s doubtful whether either Don Reive or Dave Sexton dipped into their ‘Complete Works of Shakespeare’ in search of such emotive prose to inspire their teams ahead of the 1970 FA Cup Final between Leeds United and Chelsea, but given the events in the game that followed and the subsequent replay at Old Trafford some 18 days later, they may well have done so. Continue reading →
Heinz Krügel was born in the small village of Ober-Planitz, near Zwickau on 24th April 1921 in what would be – between the end of the Second World War and the reunification of the German state – East Germany. Even as a young boy, football was a major part of his life and at the age of six, he was playing for the local club, SC Planitz, He stayed with the club for the next 23 years, and in 1948, he had his first taste of national success when Planitz won the inaugural Deutscher Sportausschuss Oberliga (the East German league championship). Less than two years later, Heinz Krügel’s playing career was ended by a serious knee injury. It was that misfortune however, that ultimately led to a more celebrated career, as Krügel turned his hand to coaching and management. It would also have the unfortunate consequence of bringing him into conflict with the government authorities. Continue reading →
When at the top of his game in the fifties, to many, Jimmy Scoular was the type of hard-bitten Scottish footballer hewed from the toughest of rock north of the border that provided the bedrock of any successful team. He was the sort of player that would consider the likes of more modern-day ‘hard men’ of the north such as Billy Bremner, Graeme Souness or, bringing it up to date perhaps, Scott Brown, as possibly less than fully deserving of the description.
Born in Livingston, ten days after Hogmanay in 1925, he went on to become an engineer working on submarines during the Second World war, before signing as a professional football at the end of hostilities. His work in constructing things that would go into battles in distant places would serve him well when he turned his hand to club management. Continue reading →
The last day of any season can be a bit of a nail-biter, especially when there’s everything still to play for. Back at the end of the 2002-03 Scottish Premier League season, with a single game to play, Celtic and Rangers were tied on 94 points. The clubs also had a tied goal difference of plus 68. It became a last day shoot-out as to who could win their last game by the largest margin and take the title. Celtic travelled to Kilmarnock and won 4-0. At the same time however, Rangers entertained Dunfermline and secured a 6-1 victory. It was a result that also brought the title back to Ibrox by the slimmest of margins. In the end, it had come down to an injury-time penalty, coolly slotted home by Mikel Arteta to give Rangers the round half-dozen, and stymy Celtic’s effort by a single goal.
Although the two Glasgow giants rattled in a total of ten goals between them, whilst conceding a single strike, there was precious little talk of any underhand skulduggery or anything less than scrupulously contested games. After all, despite the two defeated cubs finishing the league in fourth and fifth positions respectively, Kilmarnock trailed the top two by no less forty points, and the gap to Dunfermline was over fifty points. The results therefore were not that much out of kilter, especially with the Glasgow clubs having so much to play for, and the other two teams comparatively little. A few years later, another last day battle took place between two clubs tied on points and battling for big wins to sway goal difference advantage and gain promotion to the top echelon of their domestic league structure. If the ‘Old Firm’ battle offered no hint of controversy though, this one differed on that particular count. Continue reading →