http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/ Daniel Harris is a writer and a bit of a journalist. His dazzling first novel will be out when he's finished playing with it. The book of these blogs is out now, available from Amazon and Waterstone's. en Copyright 2010 Tue, 18 May 2010 09:40:08 +0000 http://www.sixapart.com/movabletype/ http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss One of the fringe benefits of following a football team is the way it enables the charting of life, anchoring unrelated but parallel experiences in time and place. But to every up there's a down; when things go badly, definitive connotations are unavoidably forced upon feelings that deserve to stand alone, happy times contaminated with disappointment. So it is that my girlfriend's 30th birthday celebrations will be forever entwined with ceding the title, though if you will get yourself born in the second week of May and then succumb to a Unitedaholic, you've only yourself to blame. And spare a thought too for poor Greenwich Village, no longer just a trigger for simple associations of Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix and some good nights out, but now inextricably linked to the same unfortunate event. At least the time difference meant that it was all over and done with by lunchtime, meaning less time to wait in grim expectation – though only in the US could live sport be shown on delay, so as to squeeze in a few more commercials - and more time to dull the pain with celebratory refreshments. http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/05/the_village_people.php http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/05/the_village_people.php Tue, 18 May 2010 09:40:08 +0000 When Nabokov said “caress the detail, the divine detail”, he may have been advising other writers, but at the same time he was making a transferable point. Both pleasure and distress are characterised not via general and unspecific feelings, but by precise aspects that explain to us why we feel as we do. Thus on the way to Sunderland, what was winding me up wasn’t the prospect of United no longer being champions, but the way Steven Gerrard’s errant backpass had suddenly woven itself into both Liverpool and Chelsea’s history, a quirk of circumstance giving colour and uniqueness to something I was desperate be nondescript. So before the game, excitement at seeing United play was for once as much reliant on the cognitive as the instinctive. It wasn’t that anyone expected anything more from Liverpool - not because they’re untrustworthy, although they are, but because they’re rubbish. And not rubbish like a scrunched up piece of paper is rubbish, but in the way of a sewer full of festering flesh, food and effluence. United deserve shames and hand-wagglings galore for losing to such an inept bunch of malcoordinated nonentities. http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/05/law_and_order_in_sunderland.php http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/05/law_and_order_in_sunderland.php Sat, 08 May 2010 11:34:41 +0000 Whether it's King Lear, Jules Winfield or Reginald Cousins, the storytelling canon is replete with parables of redemption, however improbable. And there are few more so than the tale of Luis Carlos Almeida da Cunha – or da complete Cunha, as he used to be known. Given his full name, Nani may sound like a character dreamed up by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, but though a whole lot less sympathetic, he's experienced fluctuations in fortune just like Buendia and co. Now, though his face remains as eminently slappable as ever it was, things are going his way to the extent that a virtue can even be made out of the attitude that is so vexing, the beauty of his arrogance a total absence of nerves. In much the same way there was never any doubt he'd score his penalty in Moscow, through on Gomes last Saturday - or Goams as my Cambridge-educated girlfriend called him - the outcome was equally sure. If the mind has no sense of its own fallibility, then it need never feel apprehension, at least until replaced by the kind of self-aware insouciance that wound up hindering Ronaldo's performances. http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/05/a_total_absence_of_nerves.php http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/05/a_total_absence_of_nerves.php Sat, 01 May 2010 16:28:34 +0000 United, eh? Bloody hell! All the metaphor and analogy in the world couldn’t do justice to the maelstrom of yet another last-minute winner against City, though of course I’ll have a go. United, eh? Bloody hell! Once again, every claim, every threat, every promise, demolished in a devastating swish of red, or as Wordsworth would have it, “sweet is the lore which nature brings”. And though approaching it from the opposite perspective, Shakespeare knew it too, teaching Macbeth the same lesson; you can’t subvert how things are meant to be, and should you try, the restoration of what’s right and proper is going to sting. A very lot. http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/04/uniteds_city_supremacy.php http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/04/uniteds_city_supremacy.php Fri, 23 Apr 2010 15:57:21 +0000 There was a time when people thought that the Earth was at the centre of our universe, orbited by all the other objects. Even when this was disproved by Copernicus and Galileo, it was some time before anyone paid attention - entrenched beliefs are hard to shift. But eventually, it became impossible for people to query what they could see with their own telescopically-enhanced eyes, and theory became fact. So when United, first against Chelsea and then Bayern Munich, supplied incontrovertible evidence that zest and pace are essential components of any cohesive football team, it was fair to assume that even stubborn old geocentric Fergie would accept what he once knew, but of course he did not. Though in the press conference prior to the Blackburn game we were warned of his likely selection, there remained the hope that it was yet another lie, but sadly it was not; the oldies were back, and unsurprisingly, they soiled themselves. http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/04/geocentric_fergie.php http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/04/geocentric_fergie.php Sat, 17 Apr 2010 18:21:05 +0000 Towards the end of Wednesday's game against Bayern Munich, ITV commentator Peter Drury informed viewers that United's centre-backs had been "penetrated twice". And I must say, I know how they feel, consecutive defeats annihilating an entire season in a single week of gratuitous incompetence. There are few moments, however dark or light, that aren't enhanced by recollecting United's status are league champions. Now, for the first time in nearly four years, the prospect of being without it is within genuine contemplation, life suddenly less good, less bearable, or both. Who knows when we may next feel that surge of delight? No doubt some will wonder what I'm bitching about, characterising me as the archetypally spoilt United fan, but it's a matter of relative expectation; or as Marx might put it, from each according to his ability, each according to his need. United have no right to succeed, but we absolutely have the right to demand it of them. http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/04/into_the_darkness.php http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/04/into_the_darkness.php Sun, 11 Apr 2010 19:47:27 +0000 Léon and one of my desert island psychos. But it’s only because he’s a psycho that he’s capable of enjoying the moment; most normal people can’t wait for it to be over, either on account of the tension, or the overwhelming desire to know how things will pan out. And with games against Chelsea and Bayern coming up, we’ve reached precisely that part of the football season. ]]> http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/04/the_calm_before_the_storm.php http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/04/the_calm_before_the_storm.php Fri, 02 Apr 2010 15:45:57 +0000 There are very few things that would be enjoyable if you did them all the time; pleasure is partly relative. Thus Wizzard don't really want it to be Christmas every day any more than the ecstasy debutant wants to be high all of the time; the triumph of the instinctive over the realistic and the moralising is transient, or as Freud might put it, the ego and superego are balancing the Id. At the basest level, the Id is the part of the psyche that football tickles, resulting in intense, disordered impulses that it's incredibly hard to restrain. So beating Liverpool is one of those very few things that can never become routine, as it's neither impractical nor overindulgent. Unfortunately, this time there was no hiding, and also no last minute steal, but disposing of the scousers in such routine, perfunctory fashion is, though a different joy still a joy, and marvellously soul destroying in its own unique way. Even after United fell behind, thanks largely to the kind of gruesome defending that has spooked us all season, there was no panic. Rather, the players composed themselves, and though not at their best, made it very clear that superiority would translate into number of goals required to win the game. http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/03/thcream_and_thcream.php http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/03/thcream_and_thcream.php Fri, 26 Mar 2010 14:50:40 +0000 It’s a beautiful sunny day high up in the French Alps, and the very first of my snowboarding career. The air is pure, the mountains spectacular, life good: what better to do than pace around a chalet in thermal underwear, listening to the United game down the telephone? Although I appreciated the refuge from the aggressive slopes that had already left me a battered mess, and could also hide behind the excuse of work, the only legitimate explanation for such ridiculous behaviour is the obsession times addiction equation that identifies the truly sick. As anyone who’s traipsed around foreign cities in search of football can testify, unfortunately – and to the vociferous chagrin of any travelling companions - there’s no other choice. Quite simply, the guilt at not seeing a game and the fear of what might be missed insist that no hassle is too great; I need United, and cling to the fanciful notion that somehow they need me. And never is it easy. On this occasion I’d left open the possibility of getting on with my life, but predictably, as kick-off approached the panic set in, and I frantically flapped to the pub. Contingency kyboshed with the leaving of my laptop on the plane, when it turned out to be closed, the only option was to return to the chalet. But even this was a hassle, with the receptionist claiming a busyness so insanely intense that spending a few seconds passing me a spare key was impossible, necessitating a rather sharp conversation in order that she be convinced of the urgency of my need. It’s a long old while since I’ve listened to United on the radio, and it was almost a treat, the chance to imagine your own pictures offset by the anticlimax of celebrating a goal once it’s too late, the lonely, stilted shout one of relief rather than ecstasy. Although a win against Fulham is no longer as predictable as it once was, I’ll refrain from joining the list of ignoramii to patronise ‘Terry Tibbs’ Hodgson, an obviously astute coach. Beaten twice in two seasons, United are more aware of this than most, and even though their performances were more craven than the Cottage itself, Fulham played very well in both games. In the event, the points were secured fairly easily, though the first goal took a while to turn up. Created by Nani’s intelligent pass – not words I ever supposed I’d type – whilst less effective when not deployed on the right, he’s gradually learning to trust his left foot. The chance was, of course, greedily snaffled by Rooney, and though he’s attracted the majority of the plaudits, it’s noticeable that almost every goal he scores is celebrated with a run and a point in the direction of whoever’s made it easy for him; his finishing has been superb, but the service has been even better. United’s recent attacking verve has left Fergie with something of a selection problem ahead of the Liverpool game, Park, Nani and Valencia all demanding inclusion and Giggs close to fitness. Berbatov is also playing well, earning extra points for the haughty way he handed Murphy his shirt, declining the one offered in return. In theory having so many in form is a reason to be cheerful, but the reality is that I’m annoyed in advance at the multiple team changes that will no doubt ensue at a time when there is little margin for error - largely because of the selfsame indulgence. It’s all part of the fabled but untrue cliché, invented and perpetuated by Fergie, that United never get going until Christmas, as though taking half the season off is some kind of lovable quirk, rather than an insulting excuse for an unacceptable lack of intensity. Consequently, as the season nears its end, that United are still in with a chance of winning the league is a significant piece of fortune. We can only trust that they’ll win when they have to, which last time around was the very finest route to success, tantalising Liverpool with the prospect of the title before cruelly destroying their hopes in the most gloriously demoralising fashion. United suffered similar disappointment in 1992, but where they returned to win the league a year later, the Scousers have opted to indulge in the self-pity that has made their city famous. No one has embraced this tendency with greater alacrity than Rafael Benitez, whinging and comfort eating in equal measure. This week, he informed us that “everyone knows you can have a bad season every now and again”, but actually it’d make more sense to replace “bad” with “good”. The fact is that Liverpool’s run in 2008-09 was anomalous, exceptional form from their two decent players combining with eightiesesque luck and decisions to make them look better than they were; now, they’re simply performing at their level. Though of course they’ve continued to enjoy the benefits of favourable judgments from the relevant bodies regardless of the evidence, the delightful Steven Gerrard in particular. Though it would be churlish to entirely castigate his latest infraction – you wait ages for Michael Brown to get a slap and then two come along at once – the decision not to suspend him is certainly worth another look. Apparently, Gerrard can’t be punished for a forearm smash worthy of Johnny Cougar because the referee saw the event and dealt with it at the time. If that really is so – he witnessed the assault and deemed it worthy of nothing more than a talking to – then he should be granted a few weeks off too, for a quite appalling decision. But of course that’s not really what happened; rather, he’s unwilling to admit his mistake, so instead it all gets swept under the forehead. Gerrard may be a Phil Collins fan, but it appears that where he’s concerned, seeing isn’t believing. Let’s hope that retribution is handed out on the pitch instead, via humiliating and richly merited defeat; how not to be addicted to that? http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/03/release_the_pressure.php http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/03/release_the_pressure.php Fri, 19 Mar 2010 20:07:50 +0000 Hi Ho Silver Lining, I suppose it's a losing battle. Unfortunately the players no longer emerge from separate tunnels, Premier League self-importance dictating a slow march that I guarantee is practised in far fewer gardens and bedrooms than was the slightly inclined jog. But slow marches it is, preceding a "respect handshake" that ought really to be a fist bump. Then, trying to succeed where the crowd failed, the Wolves players indulged in a very long, very useless, very unintimidating huddle whilst Mick McLobanovski looked on, mind pregnant with innovation.]]> http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/03/a_vision_in_green_and_gold.php http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/03/a_vision_in_green_and_gold.php Fri, 12 Mar 2010 16:07:59 +0000 For more than fifteen years, philosophers have been vexed by what it was that Meatloaf wouldn’t do for love, but the reality is that he was deluding himself; if he’d really been serious, then "that" wouldn’t exist. Such is the price of true love, such is its distinction from self-interested love. Many United supporters now find themselves in a similar quandary. Unfairly, perhaps, given the countless ruined relationships, lost jobs, missed parties and decimated bank accounts, but nonetheless "that" time may well have arrived. This week, a consortium of wealthy Reds announced an intention to buy the club, the endgame that ownership be transferred to the fans. But seeking to buy United and actually buying United are two very different things; if, as expected, the Glazers refuse to sell, they’ll need to be forced. With no other financial squeezes obviously available, it may well turn out that the only way of getting rid is to boycott Old Trafford. http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/03/aspects_of_love.php http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/03/aspects_of_love.php Sat, 06 Mar 2010 16:49:52 +0000 There are three effects that make the demand curve slope upwards, and United tickets have segued their way through them all over the last twenty years. First an addiction, next a status maximiser, and then a giffen good – something you purchase because you've no choice. But now, demand is plummeting faster than Alexander Lemming; in the week preceding the Westairmfrewnfrew game, the club desperately hawked seats to anyone they'd ever heard of, and at a discount; once upon a time a much-coveted privilege, now no better than a ruddy tulip. It's not that tickets shouldn't be cheaper – of course they should be – but as a principle, not because of market forces. The apathy is both depressing and encouraging. http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/02/goals_literally_change_games.php http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/02/goals_literally_change_games.php Fri, 26 Feb 2010 17:22:24 +0000 curva sud, helpfully identifying my allegiance with a green and gold scarf. Exactly what happened next is unclear, the first half passing in something of a blur, and my only real memory is of being foxed by the perennially cunning interval into thinking the game was over. ]]> http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/02/under_the_rocks_and_stones_1.php http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/02/under_the_rocks_and_stones_1.php Fri, 19 Feb 2010 13:40:30 +0000 Spitting Image puppet, you could see why Avram Grant might urgently need a massage. With Scholes and Giggs both rested, United lacked imagination in the middle of the pitch, only threatening-ish in the opening period. Nonetheless, a collection of goals always seemed likely, and a couple duly arrived before half-time, the first via a short corner, incredibly enough. What a goal Berbatov’s was, holding off some admittedly pathetic challenges to fire into the bottom corner with characteristically laconic cool. Even so, and despite an earlier scooped pass to Valencia that should also have resulted in a goal, there were still plenty of people criticising him afterwards. It’s not quite a ‘what have the Romans ever done for us?’ kind of deal, but neither is it far away - the game will be remembered for those two moments alone. What exactly is to discuss? The purest artist at Old Trafford since Veron, the prospect of seeing not just the brilliant but the unforeseeable is something that should exist every time United play. Even when it ends in disappointment, the anticipation is worth the frustration every time. A niggling injury and the success of the 4-3-3 formation meant that, as expected, Berbatov was back on the bench at Villa - thanks to Martin O’Neill, no longer one of the better aways. Now a half-decent outfit, it suddenly costs 43 quid for a crap seat - far too much, even for one in the same section as Milky Milky, Napalm Death, Toni & Guy and other prominent United characters. Suddenly capable of attracting some support, the away allocation has been reduced too, and since last season - at O’Neill’s behest - the away section has been moved from behind the goal, a petty attempt to gain an advantage that reflects badly on his team and those purportedly there to cheer them on. It’s impossible not to be needled by the loss of four points to Villa, given how the games have unfolded. Crucial this time was the careless waste of the first 19 minutes, United only waking up after going behind. Immediately and thereafter, they played with urgency and intent, the lack of celebration for the equaliser at least indicating that they were suitably annoyed with themselves. Down to ten men soon after, the slow start arguably cost United victory, although they remained more likely winners. Villa will have known they’d likely still be out-passed, and were legitimately wary of being caught on the break, but are nonetheless shamed by playing like a bunch of eunuchs. United’s chances of forcing the win probably ended with Giggs’s injury - all we can do now is wait for Fergie to rush him back for the Milan home game, in classic style. Although not playing particularly well, he was still the team’s most astute finder of space, and replacing him with Park would at least have enabled the most likely scorer to stay nearest to the goal. Instead, Rooney went to left midfield and Berbatov came on, receiving neither the service nor support he needed to make an impact, though I acknowledge that, on this occasion, it would’ve helped if he’d put himself about a bit more. At least it looked strange seeing Rooney on the left, especially pleasing given that next week United play a Euro away. Let’s hope they go to Milan and play with enterprise and courage - the Babes certainly would have done. ]]> http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/02/heres_hoping_united_can_match.php http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/02/heres_hoping_united_can_match.php Sat, 13 Feb 2010 13:20:15 +0000 How Gordon Brown must wish that he could call upon Wayne Rooney. Instead, he’s had to make do with quantitative easing and Peter Mandelson - far less entertaining and far less adept at obscuring the truism that skint is skint is skint. But there’s a limit even to Rooney’s talents. Ten days ago, the worry was that a couple of good results might cause the resistance to lose focus, but it’s now clear that the situation has escalated beyond that. Even though the second half at Arsenal was punctuated by loud anti-Glazer sentiment, if that doesn’t translate to direct action - the only way of banishing them from our club - they’ll continue laughing at us for evermore. More interviews like the one given by David Gill last Sunday lunchtime won’t do any harm, deceitfully spluttering his passive-aggressive way through a spot on BBC Radio 5 live. Despite questions less penetrating than a castrated fly, when not resorting to desperate escapes like “you’ll have to ask the owners” - well we would if they could or would speak to us - and infantile retorts like “but you’re not an accountant are you” - no, but we can count - he was demeaning us with a condescension that must be the only way of hiding his very palpable guilt. After once promising to be “behind the barricades” should the Glazer takeover succeed, the sorry lump of money-love was good enough to let us know that the demonstration planned for the Milan home game is “ridiculous”. Though perhaps the biggest insult was referring to United as a “family club”. Family’s club maybe, but family club? In the words of the late, great MC Ruff, “officer me lord, you must be mad”. But let’s humour him and run with it anyway. The roles of rich, senile old man and gormless uncles are taken, and Gill is perfect as the interloper who’s not actually a relation but manages to insinuate himself into the will nonetheless. And if Fergie’s the ageing patriarch who’s wronged and righted everyone in his time, and the players the hired help, that only leaves the supporters; bastard offspring who embarrass everyone, refusing to take the hint and keep quiet. Anyway, to the relieving balm of the football. The famously lucid Paul Merson declared pre-match that “Arsenal could run riot”, while Wenger commented that “we look always forward to it”. Well perhaps they any more won’t, after another demoralising hiding. At least that’s what it seemed like, based on the bits that I could see. No more than Arsenal and their plastic Hornbyites deserve - the Emirates is easily the worst of the new grounds, locating supporters as far from the pitch as possible, despite the promises made when work began at the new site. Fine, there are unobstructed sightlines, but you can get those on the telly; people go to games to be involved in the action, not to talk amongst themselves while it takes place somewhere in the distance. No sooner had ‘The Wonder of You’ finished - about as congruous at the football as a fluorescent pink combine harvester embroidered with ermine - than United took over. Dominating possession and territory, they spent the first 20 minutes trying to break Arsenal down, Arsenal trying simply to break. Even though Arshavin had two half-chances in that period it would have been hard to worry had he scored, United’s superiority such that they looked good for at least a couple of goals, as indeed they were. The game’s outstanding player in the first half was Nani, three consecutive performances of excellence illustrating what can be achieved via the complex strategy of picking a player consistently and in his position. After two years of mediocrity, my dad speculated hopefully that perhaps he’d come from a job interview when we saw him in a suit at Stamford Bridge, and the majority of others, myself included, would have also rejoiced in his sale. However this was more an issue of personality than ability, his performances hampered by selfish, brainless indulgence on the ball and a demeanour of indignant entitlement off it. Now, in the opinion of no less a luminary than Micky Phelan, he looks like he might develop into “a United player”, which it’s nice to see he realises is about more than being picked to wear a United shirt. If he could just sort out his cheating and his hair, who knows - maybe one day he’ll be a Red. Given that so far this season, United have managed only a single league goal from over two hundred corners, the ability to score from the opposition’s is very handy. It’s always pleasing to see Arsenal in particular undone on the counter-attack, a tactic some seem to think was patented by Wenger, rather than pioneered by Fergie. Also worthy of note was its employment in the beating of a decent outfit, something Arsenal, for all their aesthetic demolitions of Charlton and West Ham, have rarely done. Nor can I remember a Wenger team so devoid of power and pace. For all the players with nice first touches, there was no one likely to beat a full back on the outside, placing almost all the creative responsibility on Fabregas - a brilliant footballer, but one United have learnt how to exclude from games between the sides. Instrumental in doing so this time was what we hope is now a settled midfield, that simple fact of greater importance than the personnel comprising it. Anderson’s recent sulk means that Fletcher will be joined by either or both of Carrick and Scholes, the latter’s passing deployed higher up the pitch at long last, where he remains perhaps the league’s most intuitive unpicker of defences. Of course it also helps if you have Wayne Rooney, devastating when given proper support. As well as his obvious technical skill, he has a natural stamina that enables him to retain his top speed for longer than others, and married to a brain that sends him in the right direction, he’s incredibly difficult to pick up. Long may he stroke his zits in triumphant post-match interviews. But none of the above is to say the performance was perfect; United relaxed after the third goal when they should have been punishing Arsenal with four, five and six, though maybe they were under instructions not to decimate their confidence completely, as it’d be useful if they took points off Chelsea on Sunday. http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/02/sing_when_theyre_laughing.php http://blogs.soccernet.com/ontheroad/archives/2010/02/sing_when_theyre_laughing.php Fri, 05 Feb 2010 13:32:34 +0000