When football meets politics

The title of the post is quite corny, alright. But this is an area I find particularly intriguing. And I will surely have more opportunities to broach on the subject. Partly because the blend between the two disciplines is lately getting even more blurred than the tradition of their fusion suggests, and also because I see it as yet another expression of the passion that surrounds tha game.

I'm not much into the prosaics of modern day footballers' 'autobiographies'. I know that it's an efficient money-maker in Britain, but I cannot see myself having to go through some hundred pages supposedly to relive one football season (and yet John Terry's recount of last season has sold really well in the past months, and that's after winning the league...just imagine Paolo Maldini writing his memoirs - sorry. Irresistible diversion. As usual.). However, I had enjoyed Paolo Di Canio's autobio in 2000. I used to like the guy whose skills had been so underrated in his homeland. He's had his crazy moments, but he's always managed to come out finely with his tricks on the field. Those who read this book might have second thoughts on prejudging the whole mess he's put himself so nicely into by his repeated, presumably fascist salute towards the Curva Nord. I tend to do so as well. But he might be going slightly overboard. His descriptions of the notorious 'trasferte' of which he used to form part of when he was still a kid (and a quasi-professional youth player in the Lazio ranks) gave a more realistic picture of how football is seen by the real hardcore fans in Italy. What irks me is the fact that Paolo is not a kid anymore, and he knows that he's got the media attention all over him with a simple gesture. So I start to question how genuine his behaviour is this time around.
I don't see why he should insist in being an ultra' rather than a lucky footballer who has the chance to play for his favourite team.

Anything which might remind anyone of the mussolini days in Italy is anti-constitutional and illegal. Which fuels the media frenzy even more. Do they really need anything of the sort to have something to talk about in Italy?

More to come...

At the Rockhal

Yesterday Duran Duran's concert was actually good. It was so cool to see Simon Le Bon and the Taylors so close coming from Jane's posters and pictures almost twenty years ago. And it was thanks to those Music-Trip-day casettes that I knew most of the songs they played. Apart from Simon, who has grown a considerable beer belly and some extra wrinkles, they all look exactly as they did way back in their heydays. Especially John Taylor. And they had a pretty good live show. Who could have ever told me that I would one day watch Duran Duran live, now that most of my colleagues' reactions were: 'Oh are they still around'?

Il Metronomo

He might not be Franco Baresi or Paolo Maldini, but we're not too far. The tenacity and vision of Demetrio Albertini was also an integral part of the massive achievements of Milan's 'imbattibili' in the early nineties. He's been through it all under Don Fabio, to reach the peak with the scudetto-champions cup double after that magnificent final in Athens against Cruyff's Barcelona in 1994. That particular fixture had a clear favourite, the Catalans, who fielded the likes of Romario and Stoitchkov and who were coming from 4 consecutive league titles in Spain.

He was always at the centre of it all, pun included. That's why they called him
Il Metronomo, he undoubtedly managed the pace of the whole team. And after such a glorious career, he left (temporarily, as we all hope) the world of football without much fanfare. As was his style after all. Far from the media limelight, where possibble. The few personal moments of glory where the (not-so-rare) goals from direct freekicks. As was the case in a Coppa Italia final when he opened the score at the Stadio Olimipico in Rome, to see all the hopes of winning the often-snobbed trophy ruined as the team was outplayed by a couple of Lazio reserves.

In the end, the milan-born midfielder might have been the scapegoat for a couple of anonymous seasons in the late nineties. Recently he has tried his luck elsewhere at Atletico Madrid (where tha highest point was scoring yet another freekick in a derby against Real, clinching a draw in the 96th minute), then Lazio, Atalanta and finally Barcelona. But his home was Milan.

Until we see him again as Mister Albertini...

Latest football trip: Frankfurt

Here we were again...the usual three, with a random addition, all set for another football day. This time east, longer, colder, more stressful.

First things first. My friends pick me up. It's my role to plan the journey. First mishap. No GPS. Fine. Coming from an island where your longest drive if you're unlucky to find traffic cannot take more than an hour, we panic. The driver (whose notion of reality is at times rather blurred, to say the least) suggests driving ahead and following signs (where any) - actually we expected to find FRANKFURT on the first sign we find round the corner. I suggest buying a map (can't we get back to basics?). The wisest opinion comes (surprise surprise) from the only woman in the car. Let's borrow another GPS.

Fine, so here we go. Three and a half hours of snow, rain and Eldoradio. The awe of the stadium can be felt as soon as you get a glimpse from the motorway. Newly built for next year's World Cup, the Commerzbank Arena is beautiful both from the outside and the inside. The bar a bit less...a coffee can cost you up to 10 euros thanks to their 'clever' system of paying for your ritual snack.

The match (oh, by the way our aim was to watch a Bundesliga match) is between Eintracht Frankfurt and Stuttgart. The previously rather glorious home club which recently had its reputation tarnished with a corruption scandal as a result of which it had been relegated to the 3rd division is currently trying to get back to the glory days and climb up to the levels that matter. Trapattoni's side, on the other hand, is fighting off the dangerous 'draw syndrome' (Inter fans would know very well how chronic this can prove to be!! - couldn't resist). They drew their last 8 out of 11 matches, and they are currently anchored in mid-table, 18 points after leaders Bayern.

The outcome? A draw of course. 1-1. At least we enjoyed the opening goal by the home team. It's so cool to have 44000 Germans shouting 'Eintracht ein, Stuttgart NULL' with their soft spoken tendency which only their very melodious language allows. One tiny detail: for two hours it felt as if only my torso was still alive. The cold was unbearable unless you were a...real fan.

The stadium facilities are state of the art...light years away from the concrete old structures you find in Italy. There are still works going on of course, especially on the outside. The match as a means of entertainment is much more attractive to the fans. To the encounter itself: pretty good. You can recognise a Trapattoni side as easy as ABC. Very pragmatic, everyone strictly keeping his position and with an inevitable gap between a well packed midfield and the two strikers. Up there, Tomasson is still as ineffective as he was at Milan, while Ljuboja is a very interesting player, very fast and dynamic. The opponents on the contrary were adventurous, constantly creating space, especially on the flanks, and fast in their creative part.

Anyway. Mission accomplished. Now we've been to a Bundesliga match as well. The trip back was even more stressful. Looking back? Worthwhile. As always.