Deliver this nation, Fabio, from the curse of celebrity. Do what Steve
McClaren knew to be the right thing, and end the agony that has been the
dying days of David Beckham’s career. The former professional footballer,
now full-time celebrity, has long worn the Emperor’s New Clothes. Hans
Christian Andersen’s fellow Scandinavian couldn’t see just how denuded
Beckham had become, so Sven-Göran Eriksson continued to bow before the
football fashionista’s throne.
McClaren tried but failed to cope with England’s slavish obsession with the
cult of celebrity, with the result that he too was brought to bended knees
by the madness which sent him to Los Angeles to watch Beckham train and talk
with his fitness adviser. The fabulous right-footed one did what many others
would have done in similar circumstances and accepted an incredible
five-year financial deal to play park football for LA Galaxy. It was a
personal decision that made financial sense, and with his penchant for the
bright lights, where better to fade gently into the sporting night?
That should have been that, but as McClaren’s stock fell, he was compelled to
belittle himself by recalling England’s showbiz footballer. A goal assist
against Estonia justified the individual’s insane return to national
service; a once proud football nation grateful for the deliverance of a
cross against fourth-rate opposition.
Incapable also of choosing between the second-tier celebrities that are Steven
Gerrard and Frank Lampard, McClaren opted for them both and failed to
achieve any sense of balance in the middle of the field. England’s failure
was inevitable and long-term, a blessing.
It has forced the FA to act and find an iron-willed manager who will not be
overpowered or diverted from his task of reestablishing England as a
credible force in world football by the senseless and silly excesses of
celebrity Britain. We are all at it. Throughout the week the national
newspapers have been sending their prized photographers to the Arsenal
training grounds where Beckham is working on his fitness with Arsenal’s
predominantly lesser lights.
The most common perception is that Arsène Wenger is giving Beckham the chance
to regain his fitness and win selection for England’s friendly with
Switzerland on February 6. Under normal circumstances even the most gullible
of tabloid-driven newshounds would not peddle such a story, but Beckham is
on 99 caps, and, well, it would be petty not to give him his hundredth,
would it not?
In a country that turned slightly potty in terms of its “touchy-feeliness”
with the death of a princess and its crass exploitation by a prime minister,
the midfielder’s personal feelings play a greater part than the collective
good of the team. These emotional overtures are so frequently endorsed that
a combination of emotional blindness and tyranny overwhelms those in its
direct line of fire. The past two England managers surrendered (and there
are signs that England’s rugby union chiefs are similarly afflicted by the
power of Jonny Wilkinson’s branding). It takes a tough man with a healthy
contempt for the tinsel trash mania afflicting England. Fabio Capello’s
reputation suggests that he was signed because he is just that man. The
words of another acutely intelligent nonEnglish football man are heavy with
good sense. Wenger did not mention England in association with Beckham. He
explained rather that Beckham is “working to be fit for when he moves to Los
Angeles in February, so now in January we are giving him assistance with his
fitness”. Los Angeles is where Beckham now belongs. He has made his bed with
the decision to live the Hollywood dream and there should be no thought of
asking him to leave the comfortable slumbers of American soccer.
His last competitive match was in a friendly for LA Galaxy away to Wellington
(New Zealand) at the start of December, yet we are asked to take seriously
suggestions that he has a role to play in England’s future. The throng of
reporters and photographers surrounding Arsenal last week has become dubbed
“a media circus”. One of the side-effects is the question of whether league
leaders Arsenal can handle the intense scrutiny. This is another English
sporting obsession. Months were spent discussing whether rugby union coach
Brian Ashton had the requisite skills to handle the headlines and the media
heat. As if the flash of a camera or the ink of a pen can cause bodily harm.
A school of thought (normally advanced by us in the press) is that media
relations are of great importance. If they are, Sir Alex Ferguson has never
been told. In his own way, Wenger can be equally dismissive. Would the
arrival of Beckham and the adoring press circus affect Arsenal’s focus? Not
a problem, he said: “We are quite well equipped to handle it. We have
mirrors, doors and everything that is needed.”
Sportsmen who are serious about their profession know how to shut a door on
press intrusion while we wander around in some sporting hall of mirrors,
distorting the reality of existence in front of our eyes. The best, the men
such as Wenger, Ferguson and Capello, have no aversion to slamming the door
shut and keeping away from the bread and circus of the celebrity age which
warps everything to such an extent that the insignificant appears huge and
the important shrinks to nothingness.
That is the story of Beckham and Arsenal, LA Galaxy and England. England’s
Italian manager has a reputation as far removed from a clown as possible.
Expect him to repudiate the celebrity circus. He made an intelligent start
to his tenure as national manager by leaving the midwinter sunshine of
southern Europe for the piercing cold of England’s Second City before
contractually taking up tenure as England manager. It may have been
symbolic, but it was smart. Aston Villa have a couple of young Englishmen
attracting favourable comment and Villa Park is about as traditional as
elite English club football gets. The national team could do with reclaiming
a few forgotten virtues.
Winning is all for awesome Aussies
As you read these words, Australia may have beaten India to equal their record
of a staggering 16 successive Test-match victories. Like a willow-waving
phoenix, they have arisen from the ashes of their 2005 series defeat in
England to stamp their authority indelibly on the game; and this from a team
that is supposed to be recovering from the loss of two of the modern greats
of the game in the contrasting shapes of Glenn McGrath and Shane Warne.
This Australia team has its share of superb cricketers, but to understand how
they maintain this magnificent streak of winning cricket, one has to look
not so much at, as into, their team. Andrew Symonds scored a Test best 162
to bring them back from the troubled position of 134 for six. This was his
reaction to his finest personal effort to date: “It’s always a nice feeling
to score a hundred, but it will mean more to me if we can have a good result
in this Test. The innings won’t mean much to me until the end of the game if
I can look back and feel I’ve contributed to a win.”
The individual always gives way to the collective cause in Australian cricket,
something that does not seem the case with their English counterparts.
Think back to last year’s World Cup and England’s crucial pool match against
Australia. Think back to the innings of England’s best batsman, Kevin
Pietersen. He scored 104 from 122 balls, on the face of it a tremendous
effort against the great Australians. Yet with England needing a huge score,
Pietersen scored his last 54 runs from 73 balls.
The official England theory goes that Pietersen slowed down because wickets
were falling around him, therefore making his presence critical if England
were to bat their full allocation.
However, having nudged and nurdled his way to his celebrated century, he
immediately gave his wicket away with a trademark KP thrash. He had scored
his century, ensured his rating as the world’s best one-day batsman. The
individual’s job done; good enough for the star-struck English nation, not
for the earthier Aussies.
Shooting from the lip
Andrew Murray is going to be the sportsman who divides the nation in 2008.
Tennis lovers of a purely patriotic disposition could be in for a memorable
year if the manner of his performance against the world No 4, Nikolay
Davydenko, is to be a yardstick.
The 6-4 6-3 semi-final win in Qatar indicates that the 20-year-old will crack
the world top 10 again soon, and will stay there. Those, however, who like
their sportsmen to be more personable could find themselves sick of the
tantrum-touting Scot. He defended his decision to part with Brad Gilbert and
employ a team of coaches by saying: “I know what it’s like being on the road
all the time with one person, and it gets quite stressful.”
Gilbert, to my knowledge, has kept his own counsel on life on the road with
Master Murray. Unlike Tim Henman, Murray’s frequent outbursts are not the
brainwave of a coach who wanted to instil more edge into a polite and
affable Englishman. He seethes from the heart.
Until he wins Wimbledon – when it would become an act of treason to criticise
– he will be the most polarising face of British sport. Love him or loathe
him, nobody can doubt that the enfant terrible can play and compete
with the very best in the world.
