EPL Bayernly Crossed My Mind

On Wednesday, Pep Guardiola officially announced his agreement to take on the manager’s role at Bayern Munich at the end of the season, when current gaffer Jupp Heynckes, aged 67, retires.

The decision of the 41-year-old former Barcelona legend to sign a 3-year contract with last season’s Bundesliga runners-up has been met with shock, especially in England, where media hype had fans convinced his arrival on British soil was imminent.

However, anyone with half a brain cell or a semi-respectable knowledge of the football industry will appreciate that Bayern Munich were the only club that Guardiola was ever interested in, for some painfully obvious reasons.

So, while Bayern general manager Uli Hoeness conceded, “Only a coach of Guardiola’s caliber came into consideration,” the feeling was entirely mutual on Guardiola’s behalf....

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Written by Dom Wallace

Sport 4 Thought

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Aussie Rules For Me

Sport 4 Thought guest writer Andrew Hatch goes down under to investigate what makes Australian Rules Football so wildly popular. A special report from the MCG, Melbourne.

I landed in Australia four weeks ago but only truly arrived this Saturday. 

The first weekend I was here it was suggested that I go see a game of ‘footy’ at the Melbourne Cricket Ground (MCG). The game I was meant to see was the season opener between Richmond and Carlton but it fell through for one reason or another. I would have to wait another 3 weeks before I finally got my first taste. 

So on Saturday the 21^st of April I was going to see Carlton, who I was told had made a blistering start to the season and were expected to challenge for the title, play Essendon: a mid-table team who would be lucky to escape without suffering an embarrassing defeat. This as you can imagine meant nothing to me because since missing that first game a few weeks earlier I hadn’t paid the slightest bit of attention to the AFL, the game was nothing but a curiosity to me and if I’m honest I just wanted to see inside the MCG.

As a kid my only memories of ‘footy’ were seeing a bit of Aussie Rules on Channel 4’s Trans World Sport early on a Saturday morning before Going Live came on the other channel. This weird game played out on a gigantic, circular pitch befuddled me. Why were they allowed to use their hands? Why were there no nets in the goals? Why did they not have sleeves?

In the pub, (a strip bar naturally) before the game, I looked around and saw (besides the topless barmaids) Carlton fans mixing with Essendon fans. No sign of aggro, no sign of any kind of tension. Two sets of fans relaxing, drinking, talking. Nothing weird about that is there? Except for an English football fan there is a bit. Around Old Trafford there are ‘home pubs’ and ‘away pubs’. It’s not quite like Glasgow where a Celtic fan would be lucky to escape from a Rangers pub with his nose still attached to his face and vice-versa, but still, you won’t see many away fans, garbed fully in their team’s colours mind, mingling jovially with the home support. I asked my Aussie friend who the home side were; it doesn’t really work that way with footy, he told me.

Almost everything that came up in our discussions leading up to the game was related back to the Premier League in some way, partly to make the alien subject matter clearer to me and partly to manage my expectations of the game. ‘It’s not like in the Premier League’ was quickly established as the phrase of the day.

“How many can we expect there to be in the MCG today then?” I asked.

“There’ll be a big crowd, maybe 80,000, but the atmosphere won’t be anything like in the Premier League,” he said.

“It’s a big pitch for the players to cover, is the game all stop-start like rugby?” I asked.

“Oh no the game is quick, but it’s not like what you’re used to in the Premier League.”

So we approached the stadium, brushing past whole families wearing Carlton shirts, Essendon shirts and even a few Liverpool and Manchester United shirts thrown in for good measure too, with my expectation level well and truly managed. We shuffled past numerous statues of Australian sports luminaries, the majority of which I hadn't heard of, save for Don Bradman and finally got to our gate, which is when I got my first sight of the stadium.

I’ve been to some giant stadia before: the old Wembley in London, Cardiff's Millennium Stadium and of course Old Trafford in Manchester but I have to say that the Melbourne Cricket Ground is the biggest, grandest, most dramatic stadium I have ever seen. The sounds were equally impressive, both sets of fans (seated together) were getting warmed up and in terrific voice creating not so much a wall of sound but thanks to the stadium’s bowl shape, more of an enormous ball of sound that seemed to swell and linger on the pitch and could find no means of escape.

Never mind ‘not like the Premier League’, this was better.

Immediately I knew that this game, this strange hybrid of football and rugby, would compel me. And I was right. 

From the first siren I was impressed by the athleticism of these players. They sprint and leap and twist and turn with such ferocity and under such immense pressure. You think it’s impressive how Xavi engineers space, giving himself time to play his pass perfectly? Then you ought to see for yourself how quickly these men can receive the ball (more often than not at terribly awkward heights), find a teammate and offload it (in the legal manner: ‘knocking’ the ball with the fist) before two or three hulking men come crashing down on them. And have you ever tried sprinting whilst bouncing a rugby ball on the ground every 15 metres like you’re playing basketball? Not easy.

Anyone who knows me knows I’m not a huge fan of rugby. I've been to a few Premiership games before, but the game just never grabbed me. I find the reliance on brute strength and physical attributes disheartening and prefer my winners to be the ones who were more wily, more creative on the day, not just simply faster, stronger or fitter (hence why I prefer the technique of a Federer to prevail over the brawn of a Nadal, the guile of a Barcelona to the dull, if determined, discipline of a Chelsea). I appreciate there are nuances to the game, that in my ignorance I do not understand and intricacies in skill that I just cannot see, but I will never be a fan.

I expected ‘footy’ to be more like rugby than like football. I expected the physical attributes of the players to have more of a bearing on the outcome than their wit and skill.

What I actually found was that ‘footy’ is almost the exact half-way point between rugby and football. It is required for the players to be on the whole tall, muscular, quick on their feet and tough, but at the same time I can not imagine, having seen this game first hand, a player succeeding at the top level without being able to marry these attributes to nimble hands and an exceedingly quick mind. It can appear at times as if they are merely playing hot potato but when you take a look at the wider picture and see the intricately set out patterns of the players and the almost telepathic knowledge of where their teammates should be positioned, it’s pretty obvious that there’s more to it than that.

Even the referees are athletic in this game. They need to be. The way they throw the ball back into the pitch when it has gone out of touch is amazing. They stand on the touchline with their back to the pitch, swing the ball low between their legs and fling it as hard and high as they can over their head, a sort of backwards tossing the caber motion. Most of the refs in the Premier League would put their backs out trying it.

I needed no more comparisons with the Premier League to be made once the game got under way. There were passages of play remarkably similar to those you might see in a football match with intricate one-twos being played, play being switched from one flank to the other, through balls being kicked in behind defences. At one point I even noticed how high the Carlton defence were up the pitch and remarked to my friend how dangerous that was given the pace Essendon’s forwards had displayed. My prophecy instantly came true and Carlton were hit on the counter attack on more than one occasion and trailed at half time. I felt right at home. 

I expected the game, due to the size of the pitch (2.8 times the size of a regulation association football pitch), to be played out at a relatively sedate pace. It was not. It was fast, intense, frenzied action for each of the four 30 minute quarters. Towards the end of the last quarter, some of the players were visibly tiring but only indulged in putting their hands on their knees or behind their heads during breaks in play. It was astounding stuff really. The fitness levels of these players is nothing short of freakish. Carlos Tevez would have needed more than a few run outs with the reserves to get up to speed in this game.

There was a moment where the referee felt it necessary to refer to a video. The footage required was shown on the big screen, high up in the stadium’s massive third tier and within quite literally three seconds he’d blown his whistle, made the call and the game was gotten on with. Another lesson to be learnt for the Premier League?

The game finished in a sound defeat for Carlton. Essendon’s supporters were delirious. The stadium rocked with noise. I was hooked.

This game, which began largely as a regional passion for Victorians, quickly outgrew it’s native state to encompass the whole of Australia, evolving from the Victorian Football League (VFL) into it’s current guise as the Australian Football League (AFL) in 1990. With the right backing, perhaps similar to that which saw the Football League morph into the behemoth that became the Premier League in 1992, who is to say that this hugely entertaining game couldn’t one day prove every bit as popular?

I’ve already asked my friend for tickets to the next Carlton match.

Written by Andrew Hatch

Why Messi Isn't The Greatest Ever

Lionel Messi registered a record-breaking five goal haul last Wednesday, as a boisterous Barcelona swept aside a baffled Bayern Leverkusen outfit, to march promptly into the Champions League Quarter-Finals.

Barcelona's old No.10

Messi once again exhibited his undeniable quality and complete understanding of the modern game, bringing to the boil the debate that has simmered under the surface since he adopted Barcelona’s number 10 shirt from the majestic Ronaldinho in 2008.

That season saw a 21-year old Messi score 38 goals on his way to claiming La Liga, Copa del Rey and Champions League trophies and the youngest top scorer in Champions League history picked up the UEFA Club Forward of the Year and UEFA Club Footballer of the Year awards, coming runner-up in the 2008 FIFA World Player of the Year.

Having received a staggering 46 accolades since then, netting another 153 times in just 157 appearances for Barcelona, Messi has proven to football spectators worldwide that he is a truly unique talent.

But, is Lionel Messi 'The Greatest Footballer Ever'?

Last May, Wayne Rooney was helpless to prevent the Argentine running rings around his teammates at Wembley, once again crushing his dreams of Champions League success. Despite such a brutal infliction of pain, Rooney found only pure pleasure in observing Messi’s latest masterclass, tweeting “Messi is a joke. For me the best ever.”

Messi makes it look so easy

When talking of all-time greatest footballers the same names inevitably arise such as Pele, Cruyff, Maradonna, De Stefano, Puskas, Beckenbauer, Platini, Eusabio, Francescoli and Best.

Having scored a mind-blowing 1,283 career goals in 1,363 appearances, Pele is considered by many as the number one footballer ever, when forced to choose. The so-called ‘King of Football’, who famously quipped, “I was born for soccer, just as Beethoven was born for music”, has his own views on whether Messi is eligible for the title of ‘Greatest Ever’.

In January Messi scooped the FIFA Ballon D’or award for the third successive year and Pele was present at the ceremony to admit, “I like Messi a lot, he’s a great player. Technically we’re practically at the same level.”

However, the Brazilian legend asserted, “When Messi’s scored 1,283 goals like me, when he’s won three World Cups, we’ll talk about it.” He further clarified, “He’s a great player for Barcelona, but when he plays for Argentina, he doesn’t have the same success.”

Maradonna is an admirer

The 71-year old global football icon displayed his sense of humour, claiming “People always ask me: ‘When is the new Pele going to be born?’ Never.  My father and mother have closed the factory.”

Joking aside, Pele makes a valid point given that his 77 goals in 92 international appearances, including three World Cups and countless international records vastly outweigh Messi’s 22 scores in 67 games, boasting only one tournament victory in the 2008 Olympics.

Messi supporters would argue that at 24 years of age, assuming he remains injury-free, he will have every opportunity to meet and exceed the numerous achievements made by the Brazilian.

This statement holds great truth and it is impossible to construct arguments that successfully derail the assertion of Messi as the ‘Best Player of the Modern Era’.

As a generation we must acknowledge how privileged we are to witness such aristocratic displays of ingenuity on the football field.

We must also recall that our knowledge of Pele’s greatness is formed from vivid recollections passed down by those fortunate enough to have seen him perform or through rare clips of his wizardry, but primarily from reading of his accomplishments statistically.

Still the greatest... for now...

Granted the wealth of modern technology enables us to chronicle Messi’s career in a more comprehensive manner, but when the final whistle blows the bare bones of a legendary striker’s career is exposed through numbers.

Lionel Messi is an exceptionally gifted talent who has the world at his feet, but his sensational career record of 254 goals in 384 games still falls tremendously short of Pele’s, who can rest assured, temporarily, that he remains 'The Greatest Footballer Ever’.

Written by Dom Wallace