The 2008 European Football Championship begins on Saturday and I want to say a few words about my relationship with the beautiful game.
I was seven or eight years old when I started playing football. My story begins several years later. I grew up with the Swedish football show Tipsextra which broadcasted English football. I dedicated the Saturday afternoons to English top football unless I played a match myself. There was something incredibly fascinating about football which really appealed to me, but I had not chosen a favourite team yet. Some people would say that it is unhealthy for a Swede to develop emotional ties to an English football club, but those who say so do not understand that admiration even in its most idealised form can be limitless. Arsenal FC of London was my first love.
In spring 1993, Arsenal played the FA cup quarter final against Ipswich. Arsenal's captain Tony Adams came out with a bandage around his head. Ipswich took an early lead, but Tony Adams scored a decisive headed goal on a corner. Blood came through the bandage, but it was worth it as the ball had found the net. Tony Adams became a hero for me at that moment, and later scored another important goal on the way to the FA cup triumph. My interest in Arsenal got more intense during the 1997-98 season. I have been a proud supporter and followed the team in prosperity and adversity ever since then.
My football interest should had lasted all my life, but the spring of 2008 made me question the meaning of being a football fan for a long time. Many people think it is childish to blame the referee and believe that things even out in the end of a season. With some distance to the season, I can only say that such opinions are naive bullshit. Things do not even out during a season because that is statistically unlikely.
In the summer of 2007, the prospective league winners Manchester United spent more than £50M on transfer fees for new players despite having bank loans of hundred of million pounds to pay off. Arsenal on the other hand showed a positive balance sheet in the same transfer period. I may be biased, but this is something unique to Arsenal thanks to the vision and integrity of our manager Arsene Wenger. While other top clubs buy established superstars from lesser clubs for amounts higher than £15M, Arsenal generally recruit young players, often for prices below £2M, and then give them both playing time and confidence in their abilities. This environment allows several of our players to develop into superstars.
After a brilliant first half of the season, Arsenal had taken the lead in the league with a five point gap down to the second placed team Manchester United. It could have been, and should have been, an eight point gap after the league game away to Birmingham in February. Our striker Eduardo (who during the season scored goals like this) had gotten his leg broken after a mad tackle by a player in the oppposite team, and our players looked shaken in a way I have never seen them before. Our young midfield conductor Cesc Fabregas, who has been regular in Arsenal's starting line-up since age 17, looked like he had seen a ghost and all of our players were obviously scared to challenge for the ball after that. That was a very human reaction, but we (the Arsenal players on the field) somehow managed to pull ourselves together and turn a 0-1 deficit to a 2-1 lead. The tragedy occured in the 93rd match minute when referee Mike Dean incredibly blowed for a penalty to Birmingham. Dean somehow spotted a foul where neutrals noticed a fair and correct tackle by Arsenal's left back Gael Clichy. I would like to add that supporters of rival clubs felt that this was a referee scandal and absolutely horrible. Officials have certainly made mistakes before, but the last straw was when it was repeated two league games later against Middlesbrough. The Arsenal striker Emmanuelle Adebayor got a correct goal ruled out as offside although the ball came from a defensive player of the opposite team. The Middlesbrough player accidently set Adebayor free with an unfortunate backward pass (the offside rule simply means that a free kick is awarded to the defending team when the attacking player is on the wrong side of the last player of the defending team - not counting the goalkeeper except for special cases - at the very moment a teammate in the attacking team passes the ball forward. A player in the attacking team can never be offside if the pass comes from a player of the defending team, ie the opposite team). Another two league games later we met Chelsea and took the lead 1-0. Then two Chelsea players were offside by over a meter (which is very much in this context) when a pass from a Chelsea player set one of their strikers free to score. The goal should had been ruled out as offside but stood anway. The officials' mistakes in those crucial games cost us seven points in the battle for the league title. In the end we ended up four points behind the prospective league winners Manchester United. Sour grapes, said the fox.
The dream of winning this year's Champions League ended when the officials robbed us in the quarter final against Liverpool. Arsenal had a crystal clear penalty situation in the first leg turned down whereas Liverpool were awarded a penalty after a situation with minimal body contact in the second leg. Achievments such as 19-year-old Theo Walcott's world class run across the whole field counted for nothing after the referees gave decisive decisions against Arsenal. Again. In defense of the European referees, we do not have a story with the referees in Champions League and I regard the decisions in the quarter final of Champions League as bad luck only.
I know that I am a bad loser when it comes to football, but I have followed Arsenal closely for more than ten years and still not experienced anything like this spring before. I have of course seen individual matches with shocking referee decisions, but not a whole serie of games with highly dubious and very decisive calls against Arsenal. On the last day of the league, Manchester United's central defender Rio Ferdinand covered a shot with his arm in his own penalty box. According to the rules and normal refereeing, it would had been a penalty for the opposite team and a red card for Rio Ferdinand. Manchester United and Rio Ferdinand, however, got away with it. It was now obvious to me that some of the referees were heavily biased and I seriously came to think about how rigged this year's Premier League was. Referee scandals occur each year in Italy, and several clubs across Europe have also been found guilty of being involved in referee scandals and corruption. Why could it not happen in England? It was a rethorical question if anyone wonders.
Being a fan is a lifestyle. Key matches can throw you between indescribable happiness and sadness in less than a minute. We have the camera technology to correct referee mistakes which occur when the game is too fast for the human eye, but we do not use this technology for some stupid reasons. I feel very bitter about the fact that Arsenal did not win any title this season when we actually deserved to win the league if the referees had treated all teams equally, but you have to move on. And I do that here and now. The world has never been fair so why would football be?
It took me several weeks to get over it, but I know I will follow my beloved Arsenal from the first second of the next season. Football is a wonderful sport and another great tournament begins on Saturday. Let us live for the beauty in the world (but if you hear someone yell referee bastard it may well be me).
Showing posts with label Life stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life stories. Show all posts
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Thursday, September 21, 2006
About being judged on something real
I have written very little about other things than music on this blog. That is a deliberate choice. There are already too many pointless "a day in the life" blogs. Today I make an exception.
For most people life is all about pretending. Some do not know, but that is how it is. Socialisation begins when a child expectantly goes to the first day of school. Many children understand the rules of the game this early. Others pay for naivism much later in life.
The culture sets limits. People are rarely allowed to grow. It is easier to kick than hold out a hand. The indie pop culture is sometimes nice (like when Friday I'm in Love is played at the pop club on a Friday night as the first song after a concert) but just as often disgusting. I remember when I was new in Lund and visited Club Indigo at Blekingska for the first time. A stranger came up to me and asked me a lot of things. After I said what I studied, he replied "you know, you do not belong here". Few are as socially stupid as this guy, but the idea of excluding people is very widespread among many sub-cultures in society. A genuine music interest does not suffice to be welcomed by the pop culture. You get judged on what bands you listen to, what clothes you wear, which friends you hang out with and God knows if you are not judged on what you drink as well. This may come out as bitterness, but far too many people you meet are idiots, like people who are completely serious when they state that a blond girl can not be really interested in music because of her hair colour. That is one example among many.
Life is not a game, we should have left high school behind and I do not care about where you buy your fucking clothes. Raymond and Maria said it best in their summer hit two years ago. Two Fridays ago, I met one or two people (depending on how you count) who made me believe in humanity again. It is the small things that matter.
This wall of text is a long introduction (it may not be an entirely logical one) to what I really wanted to tell. Tonight, I played football with my amateur hobby team (do not get fooled by the term "hobby team", the football is better than you think although it may not be attractive to watch from the side). We lost 4-1 but I still remember an incident from the match with joy. It will be hard to keep up for those of you who never played football yourself. Well, I was the goalkeeper of my team. Being keeper in football is one of the few things in life I can admit I am very good at, without lying and without having to humble myself. If it were not for the fact that I am only 166 cm, I probably would have been capable to be a keeper at a professional level. Now I can go only reach the bar of the goals for teams with seven players. Luckily we played seven against seven on gravel with goals of appropriate size for me.
Anyway, as seen from my perspective the opposite team plays a high cross from my right side directed to my left side. The ball goes in the air in a perfect line to an unmarked player who is approximately six meters in front of the goal line, positioned as wide as my left goal post. I move from the middle of the goal toward my left post while the ball is in the air. The highest priority is the area of the goal near the first post because the ball is likely to get there in the end, and because that is the corner I have to block. The player in the opposite team meets the ball with perfect timing and instead perfectly heads the ball toward my right corner. It is a given goal. I stand on the wrong foot, and as I said I am moving left. I see the ball fly past me high on my right side and then desperately throw myself after it (do not ask how that movement is possible when I stand on the wrong foot). I get a hand on the ball at the height of the bar in the middle of goal and see the ball go out for a corner kick. A sick and impossible save. You see them very rarely. I get praised by all teammates. Sincer praise and nothing they say just to be kind. Life is perfect for a few seconds. In the second half I hear a frustrated player in the opposite team say "it's impossible" after another good save of mine and he obviously means it is impossible to score. Very flattering.
Why am I telling you this? Well, I wish life were as uncomplicated as a perfect sequence in a football game, or as football in general. We are all equal on the pitch and we get judged on what we are doing. Elitism does not exist as long as everyone are fighting for the same goal. You win together and you lose together. The only thing that matters is what really matters. Not what clothes you wear or what bands you listen to.
I can not find a song which captures the feeling perfectly. The Arrogants - Nobody's Cool will do.
For most people life is all about pretending. Some do not know, but that is how it is. Socialisation begins when a child expectantly goes to the first day of school. Many children understand the rules of the game this early. Others pay for naivism much later in life.
The culture sets limits. People are rarely allowed to grow. It is easier to kick than hold out a hand. The indie pop culture is sometimes nice (like when Friday I'm in Love is played at the pop club on a Friday night as the first song after a concert) but just as often disgusting. I remember when I was new in Lund and visited Club Indigo at Blekingska for the first time. A stranger came up to me and asked me a lot of things. After I said what I studied, he replied "you know, you do not belong here". Few are as socially stupid as this guy, but the idea of excluding people is very widespread among many sub-cultures in society. A genuine music interest does not suffice to be welcomed by the pop culture. You get judged on what bands you listen to, what clothes you wear, which friends you hang out with and God knows if you are not judged on what you drink as well. This may come out as bitterness, but far too many people you meet are idiots, like people who are completely serious when they state that a blond girl can not be really interested in music because of her hair colour. That is one example among many.
Life is not a game, we should have left high school behind and I do not care about where you buy your fucking clothes. Raymond and Maria said it best in their summer hit two years ago. Two Fridays ago, I met one or two people (depending on how you count) who made me believe in humanity again. It is the small things that matter.
This wall of text is a long introduction (it may not be an entirely logical one) to what I really wanted to tell. Tonight, I played football with my amateur hobby team (do not get fooled by the term "hobby team", the football is better than you think although it may not be attractive to watch from the side). We lost 4-1 but I still remember an incident from the match with joy. It will be hard to keep up for those of you who never played football yourself. Well, I was the goalkeeper of my team. Being keeper in football is one of the few things in life I can admit I am very good at, without lying and without having to humble myself. If it were not for the fact that I am only 166 cm, I probably would have been capable to be a keeper at a professional level. Now I can go only reach the bar of the goals for teams with seven players. Luckily we played seven against seven on gravel with goals of appropriate size for me.
Anyway, as seen from my perspective the opposite team plays a high cross from my right side directed to my left side. The ball goes in the air in a perfect line to an unmarked player who is approximately six meters in front of the goal line, positioned as wide as my left goal post. I move from the middle of the goal toward my left post while the ball is in the air. The highest priority is the area of the goal near the first post because the ball is likely to get there in the end, and because that is the corner I have to block. The player in the opposite team meets the ball with perfect timing and instead perfectly heads the ball toward my right corner. It is a given goal. I stand on the wrong foot, and as I said I am moving left. I see the ball fly past me high on my right side and then desperately throw myself after it (do not ask how that movement is possible when I stand on the wrong foot). I get a hand on the ball at the height of the bar in the middle of goal and see the ball go out for a corner kick. A sick and impossible save. You see them very rarely. I get praised by all teammates. Sincer praise and nothing they say just to be kind. Life is perfect for a few seconds. In the second half I hear a frustrated player in the opposite team say "it's impossible" after another good save of mine and he obviously means it is impossible to score. Very flattering.
Why am I telling you this? Well, I wish life were as uncomplicated as a perfect sequence in a football game, or as football in general. We are all equal on the pitch and we get judged on what we are doing. Elitism does not exist as long as everyone are fighting for the same goal. You win together and you lose together. The only thing that matters is what really matters. Not what clothes you wear or what bands you listen to.
I can not find a song which captures the feeling perfectly. The Arrogants - Nobody's Cool will do.
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