By Paddy Heaney
First Published April 7, 2009
t’s hard to know which is the more annoying aspect of professional soccer – the debased culture that contaminates it at all levels, or the individuals who nourish the morally bankrupt charade that assaults us every day.
The manifest superficiality of the ‘beautiful game’ has been showcased in the past few weeks and reminds us of why the GAA must protect itself against the ‘Mé Féin’ attitude that has corrupted soccer.
Andy Reid’s absence from the Republic of Ireland soccer squad and the refusal of manager Giovanni Trapattoni to beg Stephen Ireland to play for his country has illustrated the fundamental differences between professional soccer and ODS (ordinary decent sports).
This chasm is reflected in the views of the people who comment on the respective codes.
RTE pundit Eamonn Dunphy embodies the brittle and willow-like nature of the game that he comments on.
Dunphy often worries about how ‘the game’ has been tarnished by the corporate greed of multinationals who only use clubs to make a profit.
He also deplores the cult of the personality footballer and, in this regard, he holds Cristiano Ronaldo as football’s public enemy number one.
The irony is that Dunphy is just as susceptible to placing personalities before principles. During the World Cup in 2002, Dunphy was in the midst of his ‘Red period’ – this was when Roy Keane was his muse, his idol, his friend and his next big pay packet.
Since ghost-writing Roy’s biography and collecting the cheque, Dunpho now thinks Keano is a “bullshitter”. (Multinationals would show greater loyalty).
While Dunphy condemns those who admire Ronaldo’s step-overs but fail to see his failure to track back, the Dubliner was equally blinkered in his defence of Roy Keane’s antics in Saipan.
Players do not call the shots. Players do not storm out of training sessions. Players do not publicly criticise the manager during the build-up to a World Cup. And it doesn’t matter if that player happens to be Roy Keane.
The inability of Dunphy and many other soccer commentators to understand that basic system of management underlined the inherently flawed values that have polluted soccer.
It just wouldn’t happen in other sports. If Henry Shefflin walked out of a Brian Cody training session, or if Brian O’Driscoll publicly berated his team-mates, they would struggle to find any defence in the print or broadcast media. Soccer is different because soccer is sick.
Giovanni Trapattoni is a member of football’s aristocracy. He has won league competitions in four different countries.The 70-year-old Italian understands that while languages change, the principles of successful management are universal.
Trap played for AC Milan and Italy. As a manager, he has won every Uefa competition. Eamon Dunphy played for Millwall. When he was an apprentice at Manchester United, he spent time smoking fags and backing horses with his good friend Barry Fry. On returning to Ireland, he coached St Benilda’s College.
Yet, Dunphy, the former cigarette-smoking coach of St Benilda’s College, recently saw fit to accuse Trapattoni of suffering from an “impoverishment of ambition”. Even by Dunphy’s hilarious standards, it was a bit rich.
All success is built on discipline and on the willingness of the individual to serve the greater good of the team.
Andy Reid breached Trapattoni’s code of conduct and Stephen Ireland doesn’t want to serve the team.
For most followers of GAA, therein the debate ends, particularly when the manager involved has a track record such as Trapattoni’s.
But the cries from Dunphy and other quarters of the Irish media for Trap to convince Stephen Ireland to represent his country and for him to recall Andy Reid only highlights their misguided subservience to the notion that the individual supersedes the collective.
Put simply, they reckon the ‘me’ is more important than ‘we’.
Now consider the difference with Gaelic Games. For Andy Reid, think CJ McGourty. In terms of talent, CJ is the most gifted young footballer in Antrim. But talent alone doth not the footballer make.
CJ has been dropped from the Antrim panel for a “breach of discipline”. Bear in mind that Antrim are on the verge of gaining promotion from Division Four. A win over Waterford will seal the deal.
With McGourty in their ranks, success would be virtually assured. If Dunphy and his cheerleaders were Antrim supporters, they’d be calling for McGourty to be reinstated immediately.
But there has been no little or no outcry from the Saffron supporters. Gaels understand that, without discipline, there can be no success.
For Stephen Ireland, think Stephen O’Neill. When O’Neill surprisingly retired from inter-county football in 2007, his decision was reluctantly accepted.
Again, there were no calls for Mickey Harte to court and cajole Stephen O’Neill back into the squad.
Tyrone supporters understood the fairly basic idea that there is no point forcing a man to play if he doesn’t want to play.
The chin-stroking scribblers of Irish soccer will contend that this argument is too simplistic and doesn’t recognise the nuances and intricacies of the individual cases. This is rubbish.
Professional soccer has become so diseased, and the effects are so corrosive, that it has infected many of those who have come into contact with it.
And, by my humble reckoning, Newcastle must be one of the most contagious places in the world.
Thousands of poor dumb Newcastle fans went into delirium last week when it was announced that Alan Shearer will try to steer the club from relegation by taking over for the remaining eight games.
A huge crowd descended on St James Stadium to greet Shearer who told them that he “loved” Newcastle FC. He said the club was “in his veins” and that it “meant too much for him” to sit idly by and watch it go down.
He didn’t tell them about the huge bonus (reckoned to be £1million) he will collect if he succeeds in his quest.
“Loving” a club means that you will do anything you can to serve it needs. That can mean risking your popularity and reputation. It can mean personal sacrifice.
Shearer’s words somehow ring hollow. During an interview on Match of the Day, Shearer promised Gary Lineker that he will be returning to his cosy seat on the sofa next year.
Why manage a club that you profess to ‘love’ when you get well paid for boring a nation to death with a hackneyed analysis of football matches?
Alan Shearer loves Alan Shearer. Now contrast Shearer’s conduct with some figures from the GAA.
Think about what Gerald McCarthy and Teddy Holland were prepared to put up with for the honour of managing a Cork team free of charge. That’s love of the jersey.
Joe Kernan owns an estate agency that employs two of his sons. The property business isn’t exactly flourishing in the current climate. Kernan could easily secure a hefty payment for managing a number of county teams. But Joe has gone on record that he will not put himself in the position where he is plotting against the men with whom he shared a changing room. That’s loyalty.
Peter Canavan is a living legend in Ballygawley. He is also a married man with a clatter of children. Peter could find more profitable of ways of spending his time rather than taking on the task of managing Errigal Ciaran. That’s love. That’s loyalty.
In the world of professional soccer, Stephen Ireland can’t bring himself to represent his country, while the carrot of a huge cash bonus has finally convinced Alan Shearer he loves Newcastle enough to manage them for eight games. Such sacrifice! And yet the thrills and spills of late goals from Yossi Benayoun and the 17-year-old Federico Macheda provide a timely reminder that soccer can still lay claim to being the ‘beautiful game’. It’s a just a pity about all the awful ugliness that surrounds it.
The manifest superficiality of the ‘beautiful game’ has been showcased in the past few weeks and reminds us of why the GAA must protect itself against the ‘Mé Féin’ attitude that has corrupted soccer.
Andy Reid’s absence from the Republic of Ireland soccer squad and the refusal of manager Giovanni Trapattoni to beg Stephen Ireland to play for his country has illustrated the fundamental differences between professional soccer and ODS (ordinary decent sports).
This chasm is reflected in the views of the people who comment on the respective codes.
RTE pundit Eamonn Dunphy embodies the brittle and willow-like nature of the game that he comments on.
Dunphy often worries about how ‘the game’ has been tarnished by the corporate greed of multinationals who only use clubs to make a profit.
He also deplores the cult of the personality footballer and, in this regard, he holds Cristiano Ronaldo as football’s public enemy number one.
The irony is that Dunphy is just as susceptible to placing personalities before principles. During the World Cup in 2002, Dunphy was in the midst of his ‘Red period’ – this was when Roy Keane was his muse, his idol, his friend and his next big pay packet.
Since ghost-writing Roy’s biography and collecting the cheque, Dunpho now thinks Keano is a “bullshitter”. (Multinationals would show greater loyalty).
While Dunphy condemns those who admire Ronaldo’s step-overs but fail to see his failure to track back, the Dubliner was equally blinkered in his defence of Roy Keane’s antics in Saipan.
Players do not call the shots. Players do not storm out of training sessions. Players do not publicly criticise the manager during the build-up to a World Cup. And it doesn’t matter if that player happens to be Roy Keane.
The inability of Dunphy and many other soccer commentators to understand that basic system of management underlined the inherently flawed values that have polluted soccer.
It just wouldn’t happen in other sports. If Henry Shefflin walked out of a Brian Cody training session, or if Brian O’Driscoll publicly berated his team-mates, they would struggle to find any defence in the print or broadcast media. Soccer is different because soccer is sick.
Giovanni Trapattoni is a member of football’s aristocracy. He has won league competitions in four different countries.The 70-year-old Italian understands that while languages change, the principles of successful management are universal.
Trap played for AC Milan and Italy. As a manager, he has won every Uefa competition. Eamon Dunphy played for Millwall. When he was an apprentice at Manchester United, he spent time smoking fags and backing horses with his good friend Barry Fry. On returning to Ireland, he coached St Benilda’s College.
Yet, Dunphy, the former cigarette-smoking coach of St Benilda’s College, recently saw fit to accuse Trapattoni of suffering from an “impoverishment of ambition”. Even by Dunphy’s hilarious standards, it was a bit rich.
All success is built on discipline and on the willingness of the individual to serve the greater good of the team.
Andy Reid breached Trapattoni’s code of conduct and Stephen Ireland doesn’t want to serve the team.
For most followers of GAA, therein the debate ends, particularly when the manager involved has a track record such as Trapattoni’s.
But the cries from Dunphy and other quarters of the Irish media for Trap to convince Stephen Ireland to represent his country and for him to recall Andy Reid only highlights their misguided subservience to the notion that the individual supersedes the collective.
Put simply, they reckon the ‘me’ is more important than ‘we’.
Now consider the difference with Gaelic Games. For Andy Reid, think CJ McGourty. In terms of talent, CJ is the most gifted young footballer in Antrim. But talent alone doth not the footballer make.
CJ has been dropped from the Antrim panel for a “breach of discipline”. Bear in mind that Antrim are on the verge of gaining promotion from Division Four. A win over Waterford will seal the deal.
With McGourty in their ranks, success would be virtually assured. If Dunphy and his cheerleaders were Antrim supporters, they’d be calling for McGourty to be reinstated immediately.
But there has been no little or no outcry from the Saffron supporters. Gaels understand that, without discipline, there can be no success.
For Stephen Ireland, think Stephen O’Neill. When O’Neill surprisingly retired from inter-county football in 2007, his decision was reluctantly accepted.
Again, there were no calls for Mickey Harte to court and cajole Stephen O’Neill back into the squad.
Tyrone supporters understood the fairly basic idea that there is no point forcing a man to play if he doesn’t want to play.
The chin-stroking scribblers of Irish soccer will contend that this argument is too simplistic and doesn’t recognise the nuances and intricacies of the individual cases. This is rubbish.
Professional soccer has become so diseased, and the effects are so corrosive, that it has infected many of those who have come into contact with it.
And, by my humble reckoning, Newcastle must be one of the most contagious places in the world.
Thousands of poor dumb Newcastle fans went into delirium last week when it was announced that Alan Shearer will try to steer the club from relegation by taking over for the remaining eight games.
A huge crowd descended on St James Stadium to greet Shearer who told them that he “loved” Newcastle FC. He said the club was “in his veins” and that it “meant too much for him” to sit idly by and watch it go down.
He didn’t tell them about the huge bonus (reckoned to be £1million) he will collect if he succeeds in his quest.
“Loving” a club means that you will do anything you can to serve it needs. That can mean risking your popularity and reputation. It can mean personal sacrifice.
Shearer’s words somehow ring hollow. During an interview on Match of the Day, Shearer promised Gary Lineker that he will be returning to his cosy seat on the sofa next year.
Why manage a club that you profess to ‘love’ when you get well paid for boring a nation to death with a hackneyed analysis of football matches?
Alan Shearer loves Alan Shearer. Now contrast Shearer’s conduct with some figures from the GAA.
Think about what Gerald McCarthy and Teddy Holland were prepared to put up with for the honour of managing a Cork team free of charge. That’s love of the jersey.
Joe Kernan owns an estate agency that employs two of his sons. The property business isn’t exactly flourishing in the current climate. Kernan could easily secure a hefty payment for managing a number of county teams. But Joe has gone on record that he will not put himself in the position where he is plotting against the men with whom he shared a changing room. That’s loyalty.
Peter Canavan is a living legend in Ballygawley. He is also a married man with a clatter of children. Peter could find more profitable of ways of spending his time rather than taking on the task of managing Errigal Ciaran. That’s love. That’s loyalty.
In the world of professional soccer, Stephen Ireland can’t bring himself to represent his country, while the carrot of a huge cash bonus has finally convinced Alan Shearer he loves Newcastle enough to manage them for eight games. Such sacrifice! And yet the thrills and spills of late goals from Yossi Benayoun and the 17-year-old Federico Macheda provide a timely reminder that soccer can still lay claim to being the ‘beautiful game’. It’s a just a pity about all the awful ugliness that surrounds it.
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