Jimmy Burns's Blog, page 31

Wembley Bound

Less than a week to go before the Champions League  final at Wembley, and my nerves are already on edge, tension rising. I am assured of a ticket, but I am also seriously contemplating asking for help from a neighbour who is a hypnotherapist. This  is a match I'm reluctant to predict the outcome of. My heart sees a Barca victory, but my head throbs with the fear that Ferguson might just clinch it. The more I think of it though, the less does the last encounter in Rome strike me as a relevant point of reference. Instead I think we need to ponder on the early 1990's. Psychology matters in football.

Let us remember. It was the Cruyff era, when Barca fans lived with the expectation of victory. From the moment of his arrival as coach/manager, there was a collective will that he succeed. You don't invest in legends only to shoot them down. And Cruyff for a long time managed to project an image that seemed large than life.

In January 1991, Barca beat Real Madrid. A month later Cruyff suffered a heart attack.  As he recovered, his fragility and his manner of overcoming it touched an emotional chord among the fans, and strengthened their faith in him. Barca went on to win the League- only to lose three days later to Manchester United in the final of the European Cup Winners Cup in Rotterdam.

The following season, 1991-2 saw the consolidation of the 'dream team', a phrase invented by the local media and adopted by the fans to express a wish-fulfilment.  Barca reached the final of the European Cup, at Wembley, against Sampdoria. As the players prepared to walk through the tunnel, Cruyff was there to calm nerves with an impromptu last-minute pep talks. "We are in Wembley. The pitch is perfect, the stadium is full. We are going to play in the final of the European Cup. So go out and enjoy it."

Barca won and that night cules danced all the way from Wembley to Canaletas via Trafalgar Square and the then club vice-president Joan Gaspart did what he promised he would do. He celebrated the victory by throwing himself into the Thames.

It was a tough period that-where life defied death, and dreams confronted disillusion. I reckon that for Barca this last season has proved, as tough, if not even tougher. Here is a selected list of some of the challenges: Abidal's tumour, Pujol's injury, Pep Guardiola's stress-related back problem, unfounded allegations of drug abuse,  and last, but by no means least, having to fight a war of attrition with Mourinho in one of the nastiest seasons in the history of Spanish football. Motivation will not be lacking on Saturday. Let's hope both sides can set aside past demons, and put on a performance worthy of their best reputation.

Vicente Del Bosque: A Spaniard for all seasons

It was the poet Antonio Machado who many years ago, meditating on the events surrounding the Spanish Civil War, talked of the propensity of Spaniards to fight each other in word and deed. It was his country's tragedy-this lack of a common narrative, of mutual respect- what he called the 'two Spains'.

I've been between Barcelona and Madrid in recent days, following the rivalry between the country's two biggest clubs descend to one of its most aggressive and abusive periods in its history. In part both sides share some of the blame with the rough play of some Madrid players finding its nemesis in the theatrical diving of Barca players,  and all against the backdrop of biased reporting in the media and potentially libellous allegations via the internet.

I have already argued in previous blogs that in the general fray, one person stands out as the main agent provocateur in Spanish football, happy to put his own ego before the fans or the players, and to make of his own reputation a matter, almost of life and death. His name is Jose Mourinho.

Almost single-handedly Mourinho's  verbal and physical provocations, from press conferences through to tactics in the field, have succeeded in turning a noble contest into a ring-side brawl, where the game itself has suffered.  

Amidst such gloom, it was a joy and a privilege to catch up recently with Vicente del Bosque, one of the true nobles of the game, and one of the few Spaniards to deserve the title of Marques. It was del Bosque who last year put together a team of players from different clubs and turned them into a cohesive unit of 'one for all and all for one'.

I have no doubt that if anyone is going to be able to pick up the debris laid about by Mourinho it is going to be del Bosque – a man who puts the game, and the beauty of it, above personal ambition and intolerance. Despite his success at winning the World Cup, and his own popularity, he remains one of the most modest and self-effacing public figures I have ever met. He is a quiet, profoundly human thinker and listener from Salamanca who believes in dialogue, just like the great philosopher Unamuno. This is the man-let us not forget- who managed to have Casillas and Valdes happily co-existing in the same national squad, along with Pique and Ramos and the two Xavis, and who beat the Germans and the Dutch, neither of whom had ever had any respect for a Spanish national team.

If Spanish football pulls through its current Civil War it will be thanks to the respect Don Vicente  has deservedly earned from players across the country, and fans,  regardless of club loyalty , political manipulation, or the restless, damaging  ploys of Mourinho.

El Beso y El Balcon

 

Al final de un mañana cuando la boda real había navegado en perfecto equilibrio entre la tradición y la modernidad, fue este el momento del símbolo definidor.

A la 1.26 hora local, bajo la mira de miles allí congregados y millones más mirándoles alrededor del mundo, William  y Kate se dieron el beso, desde un balcón de palacio pero con la espontaneadad de cualquier pareja de enamorados recién casados.

Fue un ingles Wiliam Shakespeare que creo le escena de balcón tal vez mas romántica y tragicómica   en la imaginación literaria, pero en un marco de soledad y ansiedad- la de Julieta declarando su amor por Romeo. Y ayer fue en este otro balcón, el de Buckingham Palace donde se estreno el primer beso visto en público de La Casa de Windsor, la de Diana con el Príncipe Carlos- en un escena de un cuenta he hadas  cuya muerte estaba prenunciado.

Ayer William y Kate siguieron a su primero beso, con otro al poco tiempo- este aparentemente tan espontaneo como el primero pero tal vez con un profundo sentido de futuro y esperanza, y la intención de superar por una y por todo el pasado, con sus fallos y su desilusión.

Este balcón tiene mucha historia, y por eso en un día como el de ayer asume un papel tan central en la conciencia colectiva de un pueblo. Después de siglos durante el cual la monarquía inglesa se había mantenida  alejada de lazos personales con el pueblo, fue el matrimonio del Príncipe Albert con Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon (la madre de la cual Reina) que fueron los primeros en organizar alrededor de su enlace un evento público.

Y fue esta misma pareja que saludaron al pueblo desde  el balcon ya habiendo asumido Albert el  título de Rey al abdicar su hermano Edward en 1937- escena ya inmortalizada en la película   que hace poco fue premiado con varios Oscars.

Entre otras apariciones reales en este balcón has seguido las el de la actual Reina, tanto como recién casada como celebrada monarca que has sabido sobrevivir, con nobleza y sentido de gran responsabilidad,  los desastres matrimoniales de su hijos y de su hermana.

Ayer La Reina estuvo de nuevo en el balcón, igual que su hijo Carlos y su segunda mujer y ex amante Camila, y los padres y los hermanos de Kate Middleton que ya ha asumido el titulo de La Princesa Catherine. Y se quedaron allí mientras que los aviones de la RAF de Segunda Guerra Mundial y del la actual  fuerza aérea sobrevolasen el palacio.

Ya para entonces los miles que habían acompañado a los novios a lo largo de la ruta desde la Abadía de Westminster se habían juntado en un gran masa humana delante del palacio, ocupando no solamente la plaza sino la avenida  que llega hasta Trafalgar Square en una manifestación de afecto a lealtad.

Pero fue con  los besos de William y Kate que el día llego a su punto clave de reencuentro. Gracias a ellos se acorto la distancia que separa el  balcón real de la calle, en un momento de celebración colectiva.   Articulo publicado el dia después de la boda en El Mundo

A Clasico without Mourinho

A technical hitch so this updated blog I wrote from Madrid has arrived somewhat  belatedly.

 I watched the second leg of the Champions Leaguue semi-final tie in a bar in Mostoles, a sprawling satellite town south west of Madrid.I was not the only journalist here. A crew from Spanish TV had beaten me to it- and I could see why they had chosen this godForsaken neighbourhood, of all places, to find 'atmosphere'. The bar has a reputation as a rather convivial lion´s den. It is shared by a local FC Barcelona fan club- and a rather smaller contingent of Real Madrid followers. The atmosphere, here at least, was dominated by the chants of the majority Barca fans, defiant in the knowledge that this was a space they felt reasonably secure in.

In sat in the Barca section, sharing beers, ham and cheese with a group of cules and Carlos, an enduring friend from childhood who, as a Chelsea and Real Madrid fan, regularly takes issue with my football blog. It was that kind of evening.

The game, as it turned out, was one that in the main restored two of world football´s greatest clubs to a stage where each was allowed to play to its strengths and a wealth of talent and skills transalated into entertainment.

The Nou Camp, without the presence of Mourinho-he watched the game from his hotel-was like a stadium that had exorcised the devil. All the demons in words and action that had accompanied the first leg and which had tainted El Clasico was forgotten as both sides got down to the business of playing good football.

Sure, there was one questionable referee decisioun-the disallowed Madrid goal after Pique had handled Cristiano Ronaldo-but this match will thankfully be remembered for something other than loose fouls and easy diving.

It was intetresting how the TV cameras at one point focused on Valdano, El Buitre, and Zidane -the civilised arm of Real Madrid-watching the game. No gesticulation or badmouthing there, just respect. There was some riveting bold and open attacking football by both sides and missed chances. There was mighty duels betwen individual players. There was magic in some of the passing and running with the ball. There was some spectacular saves by Casillas in particular -a Mostoles kid- and two good goals, one by each side. This was a Real Madrid that was unshackled and a Barca that rediscovered its harmony. This was a game where the referee policed with equanimity, using cards only when justified and allowing the ball to flow as best it could in adverse weather conditions.

This was a game where artistry shone through the mud, when it was hard to tell whether the players´shirts were soaked with sweat or rain such was the commitment shown by both sides. The sight of players slipping and sliding through the water and still managing to control the ball undderlined their brilliance.

And the heroism and the nobility of this encounter found its maximum expression in the last two minutes when the stadium rose as one to pay tribute to Abidal as he took to the field. Having defied death, the player engaged in the poetry of life.

In a week when Bin Laden was killed, it was good to see Abidal brought on  again for sunday's clash against Espagnol. He prayed like a good muslim just before running out onto the pitch. invoking a God that is tolerant and respectful. Had Real Madrid not thrashed Sevilla earlier, this was a game that should have secured the championship. But Liga champions Barca will be-no doubt-as Manchester United will clinch the Premier League. I am hoping luck will bring me a ticket to Wembley. I can't wait. to see another  epic clash between two great clubs . I would like to say, as Gaspart did befor Barca's last final at Wembley, that I will throw myself in the Thames if a Blaugrana victory is again secured. But then I am not so mad, or such a good swimmer.

Without the Devil

Football's Agent Provocateur

This was a drama of violence and beauty, played on and off the pitch.

The machine-gunned post-match allegations that scattered from the Mourinho's mouth were not just the latest in an enduring campaign of assault on FC Barcelona's integrity; it was a rallying call for hooligans.

This is a man that from his days at Chelsea has dismissed every victory against him by Barca as the result of play acting and weak refereeing. But last night Mourinho's surpassed himself by questioning Barca's achievements under Pep Guardiola and implying that it's all been part of a big fix by UEFA.

While in free-flow in alleging his conspiracy, Mourinho seemed unable to produce any proof other than alluding to questionable circumstantial evidence obscured by subjectivity. Thus we are meant to believe that the German referee came out into the Bernabeu with the deliberate intent of penalising Real Madrid, that Pep Guardiola's pre-match talk was focused on telling his players to dive and protest and pick a fight at half-time, and that UEFA somehow wants FC Barcelona in the Champions League final and not Real Madrid, because their players are sponsored by UNICEF and Qatar.

The point is that whether what Mourinho says is true or not is not really the issue. He says what he says as a tactic to divert and destabilise. On and off the pitch Mourinho's is football's agent provocateur- he plants seeds of insidious rumour and incites his players to play rough, as a matter of style.

He was loved at Chelsea, and is similarly admired by many Real Madrid fans, for Mourinho's personifies aspects of their culture and that of Spanish national football of times past when the aggression of La Furia was much admired. In Spain, it has taken him less that  a season to confront and undermine the harmony, dignity, and respect achieved in Spanish football thanks to  Vicente del Bosque, coming dangerously close  instead to provoking  gang warfare among players of two great clubs.  Last night Mourinho greeted each flare-up with a sardonic smile, as if things had gone to plan. He also claimed that Pepe's sending off after his foot-up challenge on Alves-reminiscent of de Jong's un red-carded kick on Alonso in the World Cup final- was unjustified.

Mourinho is a nasty winner and an even nastier loser. His arrogance denies him the ability to admit to his own shortcomings as a human being and tactician. This contrasted with  Guardiola's refusal to be provoked, and to see to it that his players persevere through the distracting sideshows, to produce football played at its most creative and noble-even if we saw only flashes of it last night. FC Barcelona's overwhelming possession of the ball for much of the game was a testimony to its patient endeavour as much to the negativity implicit in Mourinho's fortification.

True, Messi's goals came after Real  Madrid were down to ten men. But both goals were sublime moments, epitomising between them Guardiola's real achievement at Barca – his own enduring nobility, and faith that football at its best is poetry in motion. Thanks to Messi, there was  also magic. And Barca have been there before, not because of any fix, but because of their talent.

Kate o Catherine

Según fuentes del Palacio de Buckingham, Kate Middleton ha tenido  su primer desacuerdo con el Príncipe Charles, precisamente sobre el asunto de su nombre. A Charles, nunca le ha gustado los nombres diminutivos, ya que les parece de poca clase y populistas. Nunca le ha agradado el hecho de que su primera mujer fue universalmente reconocida como Lady Di- y no Diana- y lo de Kate le suena a presentadora del tiempo. En cambio Kate insiste que quiere llamarse Kate y no Catherine- rompiendo así con otro legado de la historia que data del reinado de Henry V111. El mujeriego monarca ingles del siglo XV1 se caso seis veces. Tres  de sus mujeres llevaban el nombre Catherine, entre ellas la maltratada Catalina de Aragón que en paz descanse.

Eh hecho de que Kate se está  negando a ceder a las presiones de su futuro suegro en este asunto demuestra cierto coraje e independencia, para no decir modernidad, el common touch según los ingleses- calidades ya bien reconocidas a esta altura de la telenovela de los Windsor. Pero no nos engañemos. Ni la Kate es una rebelde nata, ni su boda supone una revolución.

Entre la masa de reportajes alrededor de la boda en estas últimas semanas, las imágenes más relevantes en este sentido son las de un visible y creciente amistad entre Kate y su futura suegra, Camilla, la Duquesa de Cornualles. Esta amistad a supuesto tal vez unos de los mejores resultados de una propaganda insistente de parte de los asesores del Príncipe Charles para dejar en el pasado el desastroso matrimonio de este con Lady Di , la muerte repentina de la Princesa de Gales, y la caricatura que se creó de Camila como la amante traicionera.

Gracias a Kate, la vemos a Camilla estos días más sonriente que nunca, y a su marido encantado con la futura boda de su hijo William. Aunque Charles tendrá que soportar el nombre de Kate, sabe que ha ganado una batalla mucho  más fundamental: la de la reintegración de Camilla en la conciencia colectiva Británica  como una pieza imborrable de  la sucesión. Por ahora olvidémonos  de que  William y Kate puedan llegar al trono antes que Charles y  su consorta Camilla. En  el Palacio la posibilidad, por ahora,  está completamente descartada.

This article was published in El Mundo on April 24, 2011

Classical encounters Round 2 (Part 2)

Five months is evidently a long-time in La Liga. Those of us who watched FC Barcelona's 5-0 victory over Real Madrid last November could be forgiven for wondering last night at the Mestalla whether it had really just been an illusion.

Let's be blunt. The Barca that played the first half of the King's Cup put on probably one of the worst exhibitions under Pep Guardiola's governance since his infamous first league match as boss when they lost against Hercules. This was a team that seemed to have lost the will to play, let alone win. They seemed to have no rhythm or strategy, while their vision and energy resembled that of a group of individuals suffering from bad hang overs. Only Pique seemed fired up from the outset, and that was probably because Shakira was watching him from the VIP box.

Mourinho's men meanwhile did as they were instructed- playing rough and tough, they defended and disrupted, and occasionally counter-attacked, with lightning speed and ever threatening,  in a way that showed up, by comparison,  the woeful shortcomings of their opponents when it comes to scoring options, and the extent that Pujol's inspiration in defence is missed. This was no  Clasico but a scrappy duel between a deflated genius and a thug.

God knows what Pep told his players in the dressing room, but Barca came out in the second half and began to play- well, up to a point. But then the longer the scoreline stayed at 0-0 the more likely it seemed that Real Madrid would end up winning. One just had to look at the subs bench to understand why.

Some images will endure from this lacklustre final. The squabbling that broke out at one point between Barca's front three –Pedro, Messi, and Villa; the ruthlessness of Pepe all over the pitch- Mourinho's special emissary; the way that the Barca fans  failed to rally round their team after Real Madrid scored their goal; and the  contrast between the whistling of the National Anthem by the more fanatical Catalanistas and the extended embrace Casillas and King Juan Carlos gave each other just before the Spanish international raised his first major trophy since the World Cup.

This was a night when FC Barcelona showed rather less nobility than it could have done, on or off the pitch, as if it had been corrupted by a Mourinho bug. On this form card, Barca this season may just clinch la Liga but they won't return to Wembley. Magic and goal scoring ability needs to return to the Guardiola camp, as a matter of urgency.

Classicals encounters:Round 2 (Part One)

I went to bed with two competing chants ringing in my ear – one "Asi Asi gana el Madrid",the other "Madrid, Madrid, Madrid."

From a radical Barca perspective, FC Barcelona was robbed of victory at the Bernabeu by two failed referee decisions: a refusal to give a penalty when Villa was taken down early on in the match, and his willingness to give one when Marcelo dived.

From a radical Madridista  perspective,  the penalty scored by Ronaldo was not only justified (if unfairly lacking a red  card) but just recompense after a series of lightening counter-attacks that failed to find the net through sheer bad luck.

Well I found it a pretty even match whatever the statistic might suggests. Barca had possession for a majority of the time but only rarely created threatening opportunities out of their passing in closed space. Real Madrid were a much better team than the one that played earlier on the season at the Nou Camp- tighter in defence, and more threatening on the counter-attack. They also gained value from Mourinho's perfectly timed substitutions which underlined that he has rather more to choose from than Pep Guardiola.

Further observations: Once again Messi showed himself a more complete player than Ronaldo, but Barca remains in desperate need of strikers who can score; Pep's decision to bring out Pujol smacked of a tactical human sacrifice- noble but suicidal ; Valdes and Casillas are great keepers who save their teams; Pique shouldn't lose his cool so much now that he has Shakira; I would like to think that this result leaves things wide open for Wednesday's match although part of me suspects that Mourinho now has the psychological edge, and whoever wins later this week  will be on  surer ground on the road to Wembley.

I am against the culture of abuse

As FC Barcelona and Real Madrid limber up for the  first of their serial four epic encounters, the usual abuse has began to fly across the netwaves between some fans. Does this hysteria really benefit anyone other than the pent-up hormonal levels of the main abusers?

I think I am not alone among thousands of universal football lovers who, regardless of their particular loyalties, would like to see some mutual respect being shown  by supporters of the  two greatest clubs in the world.

Ok there is a historical rivalry here but there are also some great players on both sides, some of whom have played together and won  both the European Championship and the World Cup.

Yesterday Mourinho stood  accused of  a total lack of respect by  the media for refusing to speak to them at a pre-match conference. But you could argue there was as much nobility in  his silence as in Pep  Guardiola's pre-match comments praising the Real Madrid team.

I like to sing and recite during matches but I draw the line at the storm trooper approach so beloved of the Ultras Surs and the Boixos Nois . I look forward to the next four matches and plan to enjoy them but in my own time and space and in the language of appreciation.