Youth, Courage, Greatness

There’s a Turkish club whose name doesn’t come up very often, except in Champions League qualifying draws. Galatasaray don’t exactly make for famous opponents. But one night in 1994, a Manchester United-Galatasaray game set the tone of the Red Devils for the next twenty years.

Ryan Giggs by then had established himself as a first-team member, but it was the rest of the teenagers who burst onto the scene that night. Watch the grainy video footage on youtube. Beckham, Gary Neville and Nicky Butt played the whole match, each of them only nineteen. Paul Scholes graced the bench. The game was but a taster of the magic, eleven premier league titles and two champions league titles that were to come.

In the excellent Class of 92, Gary Neville is sceptical that history will repeat itself. Truth be told, the statistics today do not spell good things for youth systems in England. United’s famous class each made more than 10 appearances in the treble-winning season of ’99; the average number of under-23s in squads nowadays are 2.5. Clubs like United are supposedly ‘abandoning their youth systems’; clubs like Manchester City never really had them in the first place. The opportunities for academy talent look increasingly limited as clubs instead go in search of famous names, too impatient to grow their own.

Is it all gloom and doom, however? I do think that youth still has a chance, despite whatever Arsene Wenger and Jose Mourinho have been saying lately. I’m writing from a Manchester United point of view since that’s what I’m most familiar with, but it’s easy to see that this club, and probably all other clubs in England, are not giving up on young players just yet.

First of all, as is with everything in English football, I think that the problem is exaggerated. Be it by newspapers, managers, or whoever else there is who has a say on these things, it’s not like youth football is on the road to a complete stop. Just look at the pre-season squad that United fielded in the States. Seven of eleven players who finished the first three games were academy players. And that third game was a 3-1 defeat of Barcelona, with the youngsters scoring two goals. That doesn’t sound like a club giving up on its youth principles. Although Paddy McNair and Tyler Blackett were brought in to cover the ravaging injuries that plagued United throughout last season, they continued to rack up games in front of more senior defenders. Hopefully the trend of introducing youngsters will continue well into the future. Players coming into the team at different points in time doesn’t mean that players aren’t coming in at all.

Secondly, so many caveats of what being a youth player means are forgotten. Maybe Luke Shaw was bought from Southampton, but he’s still only nineteen, and I’d still consider him one of our young talents. Buying all of these players means that these players still have to come from somewhere, and Southampton is the glowing frontman of the academies of England – what England needs to do is make sure that it does not become the exception. Also, I think players are written off far too quickly. While Januzaj didn’t play as much under van Gaal, he still managed 21 appearances, and let’s not forget his stellar showing under Moyes. People forget he’s only twenty and has a long way to go and play. David Beckham, after all, had a loan spell with Preston North End before he established himself as United’s first choice.

The fairy tale of the Class of ’92 in this way has affected how youth is viewed in the premier league – people forget the hard truths, the Aston Villa defeat, the reality of ‘you can’t win anything with kids’, and how these things take time to happen. They expect results instantly, and from there draw false conclusions. No one knew Ryan Wilson was going to be such a phenomenal superstar until it happened, and likewise, you can’t tell what the future is going to be for some of these young players. Paul Scholes turned professional in 1993 and didn’t get his first game until 1994. Is Sir Alex Ferguson going to be criticised for abandoning youth by not playing him sooner? Not really, no. Because Sir Alex trusted in and believed in them, biding his time till he thought they were ready and allowing them to grow into the role. That’s the difference with football then and now, and that’s why it looks like academy players aren’t trusted anymore. Teenagers are treated as superstars and everyone is expected to do amazingly overnight. And if you think like that, expecting the result before the effort, then of course you’re not going to see what you want to see.

Youth is not dying. Getting harder to define and smaller in reach, perhaps. And it’s true that we’ll probably never see a huge bunch of players coming into the first team of a big club ever again. But this doesn’t mean that big clubs aren’t introducing players, or even that smaller clubs aren’t overhauling their squads with younger, fresher faces. Look at United signing Sadiq El Fitouri from Salford City – that’s believing in youth, it’s just that deals such as this go under the radar given that they’re playing with U21s. Manchester City has invested in a major youth complex – that’s investing in youth, given that they use it properly.

And that’s the crux – the onus is on the teams to make use of what they have and bring players in not quickly, but eventually. There is plenty of talent out there to be found, even if it might not seem like it. No one knew, looking at that bunch of boys, that three would make club Captains, one national Captain, only the characters of the other two stopping them from doing so too. The most important thing is not to expect immediate results, but to keep looking. Who knows? There just might be another Ryan Giggs out there, waiting in the wings.

The Last Big Card

The thing about derbies is that no one actually looks forward to them. You can be the favourite to win the game, as Liverpool appear to be in this case on Sunday, and you still wouldn’t be wanting for the game to happen. This is the nature of the derby: high stakes, high emotions, high trauma, and above all the niggling feeling of what if we lose? 

Neither of the two derbies this Sunday are going to be taken lightly. For the Northwest, it’s a game that will potentially decide the Champions’ League contenders. For El Clasico, it’s a race for the title. But it hasn’t always been this way. None of the derbies that United played last season, for example, could be considered particularly ‘important’, in the scheme of league positions and so on. And in the buildup to yet another big game there will always be people who deride the necessity of such things. You can’t help but see their point, in some ways; any game, not just a derby, keeps your heart in your mouth. Any game can be just as important, if not more so, depending on the table positions. So what’s the point of a making something as big as a mountain out of what seems to be a molehill?

To which I believe Gary Neville has something to say.

This was originally going to be a post about GNev’s best celebrations against Liverpool, but I’ve found that there aren’t a lot of pictures floating around, given he’s usually off celebrating somewhere else that’s not the team (Kop end, perhaps). Most of them, however, look the same – arms outstretched, euphoric screaming, lungs bursting with both hatred and heart. In every photo you can see what this means to him. And this is not just because he’s the man who ‘hates Scousers’; it’s because he understands exactly how important this game is. Derbies are not irrelevant, have never been irrelevant, and will never be. Maybe there are other games that could be title deciders, other games that could mean make-or-break relegation battles, but if you’re going to pick just one game to represent football, it’s got to be a derby.

The most important thing that sets a derby apart from any regular game is the weight of the history and tradition behind it.  When two teams like United and Liverpool play against each other, it’s not just a football game. It’s hundreds of years of history going head to head. You’re talking about games that have had so many memorable clashes, so much depth of feeling that it completely transcends the mechanics of the game. Essentially, it’s like what would happen if England or Germany played France (hang on…). What, after all, is sports without tradition? A derby brings meaning to the game because there is so much unspoken, latent tension that propels the entire fixture forward. United has two famous derbies – against Liverpool and against Manchester City – but I would have to say that the one against Liverpool is far more tense, far more important. Manchester City was, for too long, nothing more than ‘noisy neighbours’, and there’s no real history or identity the way Liverpool have. With Liverpool, it’s 18 vs. 20. It’s the 70s and 80s vs. the 90s and 00s. It’s more than football – it’s rivalry – and that means something different for everyone involved.

With a derby, there’s something at stake and something worth fighting for. It could be a derby at the bottom of the worst league in Uzbeckistan, and it would still mean the world to the supporters. It’s not about the points, it’s not about the positions. Derbies that spring to mind include the Tyne-wear, which is Newcastle and Sunderland, which to the outside observer wouldn’t really matter, but is one of the most passionate, important, violent-almost fixtures in English football. And that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? Not the importance of the fixture, but the identity of the other club. I remember someone saying something about the ’99 FA Cup United-Liverpool game; how it was important to get through to the next round, but even more importantly, it was who we beat along the way.

When new supporters are inducted, if you would, into their football club, one of the first things they’d learn is ‘this team is the bane of the universe’. And in that odd, bizarre way, the team you hate the most comes to define you. I feel like you can’t really come to support a team until you hate your rivals with the burning passion embodied in your fellow fans. What’s an Arsenal supporter who hasn’t, at some point in their life, said “I really *insert expletive of choice here* hate Spurs”? If you’re looking for an analogy, it’s like Batman and the Joker – deep-seated rivals and arch enemies who are nevertheless almost incomplete without each other. I think the perfect derby chant is encapsulated in “Gary Neville is a red / he hates Scousers”. Yes, Gary was a red, but he was even more so a red because of how much he hated Liverpool (and to a lesser extent City).  Derbies make identities. They make the club what it is.

In the end, that’s what it boils down to: the emotions and feelings that characterise football or indeed any given sport. Why do people like to watch these things? Because it makes them feel a roller coaster that’s simply unattainable anywhere else. In the 90 minutes of a game anything can happen. You can hit rock bottom at 3-0 down and then climb back up to pull 5 goals out of a hat and sweep the tie. And this roller coaster is a thousand times amplified in a derby game, because it means so damn much more. Choosing between winning three games in a row or beating your arch rivals might seem an easy choice to a rational, normal person, but I know a lot of football fans who’d be torn between the two. There is nothing in the world like – to use the words of the man who has featured in this post and indeed most United derbies very heavily – dancing on your opponents’ grave. Tensions flare, hackles rise, Things Happen. There’s been a lot of hoo-hah recently over no English club remaining in Europe, and Neville pointed out how the last big card we have is entertainment. Well, a lot of that entertainment stems from the passion that derbies bring. You’re never going to get that sort of fiery feeling – of joy, of hope, of excitement, of all out dread – anywhere else.

Tomorrow two derbies are going to be played, and the fixtures in themselves – not the league tables, not the points – have already determined that the footballing world will be glued to their TV screens for most of the afternoon. Derbies will never lose their relevance. Maybe the clubs will get smaller. Maybe the games will get less important. But it’s still the biggest fixture of the league that most players will get to play in, let alone dream of. It’s still the game of high-strung emotions, of absolute passion for the fans. It will always be the sort of game you sprint 50 yards down the touchline towards the enemy fans, screaming your love for this club to the world, pulling at the badge on your chest – the same one that’s been tattooed onto your bursting heart.

The Monster Hypocrisy

By now everyone will have formed an opinion regarding Diego Costa’s (shall we say) less than savoury conduct. Battle lines have been drawn – by battle lines I mean Chelsea fans against everyone else – and opinions have already been shared. I thought Gary Neville (who’s surprised) wrote an excellent, excellent article that kind of steps on the toes of what I wanted to write about. In it he argues that Costa is exactly the sort of person that the Premier League is missing – the rough, tough, slightly demented character that makes matches worth watching. Of course not everyone’s going to agree that Costa fits this description, or whether he goes way past the line. But beyond what you think, I believe that you should at least be consistent in your viewpoints, which a lot of people aren’t. And that’s what’s irking me more than whether you believe Costa’s the right kind of monster or not.

A great many rival fans have been accusing Costa of being wild, manic, so on and so forth. But how many of these fans stood by Suarez when he was going around biting people? How many of these fans dismissed Keane’s tackles and revere Cantona’s kung-fu kick? Every time one of the lower-positioned clubs claws a draw or a win using ugly, physical tactics, they’re praised for being ‘giant killers’ and ‘living the dream’. I find this hypocrisy and self-righteous attitude far more problematic than the actual question of Costa and of the people like him. Neville has been called a hypocrite after his article, but he’s been far more consistent than most of the people criticising him. After all, he was exactly that type of player during his career, and he’s always supported this kind of play. No; it’s people who fluctuate based on their biases who irk me.

I think this problem stems from two issues: the first, of course, being club allegiances. Many a United fan will criticise Costa just as quickly as they will worship Keane, even though I personally think the latter is worse. But Keane is an Old Trafford hero and United fans would never consider putting him on the level of a Chelsea thug. And vice versa. This is the failing of club mentalities in general, and something I think will stay around for a long time. We’ll always be biased towards our own players. But what we should be able to do is recognise that not everyone who plays for our teams is perfect, and not everyone who plays for the enemy is bad. If you claim Suarez is a rabid idiot, you should be claiming that because he bites people and not just because you don’t like Liverpool. So on and so forth.

Secondly, people fail to understand that there are different ‘levels’, if you would, of violence and misconduct. Stamping petulantly on someone is not the same as, say, racially abusing someone. Like it or dislike it, such acts of borderline violence are commonplace – any given yellow or red card in a normal match is probably going to be as bad as Costa’s conduct in the Liverpool game. You can’t vilify Costa without vilifying all of those other players either. Likewise, if you’re going to defend Suarez, then you have no right to call for Costa’s ban. I know this veers into moral ethics territory, but all the same, there are certain things that are worse than others. There’s run-of-the-mill bullying and wearing down of the players, relatively provocative celebrations. There’s clumsy and mistimed tackles. There’s unintentional fouls, indignant protests, intentional reactions, slurs, cold-blooded revenge tactics. People need to understand this before they pass verdict.

I don’t expect fans to be completely deontological (by which I mean sticking to one set of rules disregarding context) in their approach. Of course there are certain things that just completely escape any attempt at condemnation (Cantona’s kick, immortalised by seagulls; Zidane’s headbutt almost turned into a pop-culture meme by now) and of course fans will see their favourite footballers and favourite teams in a more, well, favourable light. I just think it’s important to take an objective view to the situation before accusing others of bias, being hypocritical, ignoring the facts, so on and so forth.

As to whether I agree that Costa is someone who brings energy and interest to the game? I do think that playres of his elk are sorely missing in Premier League football. Certainly United doesn’t have a player like that anymore – ironic, because I think we were the team most known for those sorts of players. The English Premier League is known as its country is – full of underdog spirit, bulldog determination, passion, fight, never-say-die. And lately I think it has been missing the grit and character that defines it. Would I go as far as to say that we should all have a Costa in our teams? I think whatever the case Costa did go a bit far, and his behaviour should not be condoned. But it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have more combative fighters. People who could be thrown into a pit of lions and claw their way out, bruised, bleeding, but alive. That’s what football is about, after all – the way it’s meant to be played – not necessarily dirty, but gutsy as hell. The generation before understood this to a T; it’s time this generation does too.

The Paradox of Loyalty

In what has been a crazy week for Premier League football (the Leicester comeback, the Burnley almost, the Chelsea disbelief) talk has instead surrounded the news that Steven Gerrard will be leaving Liverpool at the end of this season. There’s no love lost between me and Liverpool, as I’m sure is pretty obvious, but it was rather disconcerting news all the same. Even in the days of the Premier League, every club has its legends, its one-boyhood-club men, cast nowadays as the last of a dying breed of football player. United are perhaps the most famous with its trinity of Giggs, Scholes and Neville; Chelsea most associated with Terry and Lampard; Arsenal with Tony Adams; Liverpool with Gerrard and Carragher. These names are chiseled into the walls of home grounds and supporters’ hearts, so it’s no wonder that news of Gerrard’s departure has shocked fans, just as Lampard’s move to Manchester City stunned everyone. And all this, I think, begs the questions: why are they leaving, does it count as disloyalty, and what are the expectations of loyalty in the first place?

Personally, Gary Neville is my ultimate epitome of club loyalty. This is a man who’s unabashedly devoted to United, to the point that his entire reputation rests on his goading of rival fans and declarations of love for the team he spent two decades with. I remember an interview sometime in 2010 when he was asked whether, if he could only choose one of two things, he’d rather play on for another season or see United win the title. Without hesitation he said to win the title. Unconvinced? Have a gander at the open letter he wrote to explain his retirement decision.

I am disappointed that my playing days are at an end…However, the most important thing now is for the club to continue with the success that is synonymous with Manchester United.

Neville left the ‘only thing he’s ever known’ because he knew that leaving would be better for the team. And because he never wanted to play for anyone else, which he probably could have (fellow graduate Nicky Butt’s odd sojourn in Hong Kong springs to mind), he retired. Fast forward to 2015. Of course there are two things that stand out as different regarding Gerrard: firstly, that he’s fitter and hasn’t been plagued by injury, and secondly that it’s the club which seem to be driving him out. But are these really grounds upon which to elevate Gerrard, turn him into a hero and label him ‘loyal’? I would say no. I’d say that, once you’re no longer a one-club man, you can’t stake the same claim to loyalty as Neville and indeed his Sky partner Carragher.

First let’s talk about why Gerrard is moving away. I don’t think even I, as a United fan, could accuse him of disloyalty. Certainly, if Liverpool are driving him out then as a legend he really is being unfairly treated. And as a footballer, I don’t blame him for wanting to carry on and ply his trade, elsewhere if need be. Yet you can’t deny either the rumours of his wanting money, considering the signing-on fee he might get as well as the big draw of America. One cannot forget the almost-Chelsea move curiously cancelled after winning the Champions’ League and being offered more money. I think the mark of a truly loyal footballer is not even the thought of playing anywhere else, a standard that Gerrard – and indeed, even worse, Frank Lampard – fail to reach.

Once you’ve staked your reputation on being a one-club man, you’ve nailed your colours to the mast, for better or for worse. To leave the club and play for someone else would strip you of that right to rank yourself up there with the very best, harsh as it might sound. So while Gerrard might not be considered disloyal, he certainly isn’t loyal to the point worthy of all this praise by press and fans alike. I’ve never liked Steven Gerrard but I did respect him for his love of Liverpool; that respect has diminished slightly. I’m not blaming Gerrard for his decision to value football over his club, because it’s a decision that most people would make. I just think that if he was truly, truly in love with Liverpool, then he would rather have retired than gone and played for someone else.

What’s even worse, I thought, was Lampard moving to Manchester City. Lampard used to be my favourite opposition player, but now I’m not so sure. While the rivalry between City and Chelsea is not a strong one, it still rankles the way van Persie’s move must have rankled for Arsenal fans. Yet Chelsea fans still hold Lampard in the highest regard. And this got me thinking – what’s the difference between the two? Why is one of these men still ‘loyal’ and the other one castigated for his disloyalty?

The football fan is an odd creature, isn’t he. (I’m all for gender equality – I’m a bloody girl writing this – but ‘isn’t they’ sounded exceedingly odd, as did ‘is an odd creature, aren’t they’.) He expects die-hard loyalty from a player on his team, screams at them and calls them names when they betray him, but welcomes a Judas from another team with open arms. Here I am going on about Lampard’s ‘betrayal’ when my one of my favourite players currently, Luke Shaw, is a Chelsea fan who confessed to ‘switching over’. And yet I welcome that – it’s kind of like a ‘yesss, get in supporting the right club’. I welcome van Persie as much as Piers Morgan calls him van pursestrings. Of course it’s definitely got something to do with me supporting the club they come to, and as we’re only human we can’t all be deontological (that’s holding the same standard to everything whatever the context). I still can’t help but feel that it’s very oddly paradoxical, though.

Ultimately, you probably can’t hold football players to the same standard you hold fans. Fans are free to choose the club they want to support and are not under any pressure to change, ever. But football players will come and go and can fall in love with a club they are involved with every day of their lives. Boys might play for other youth clubs then move over and switch allegiances, which I think makes sense. Phil Neville has United, Everton, Bury and Salford and in each case he has a legitimate link to them. There are no real answers as to the paradox of loyalty, and why one person’s loyalty is deemed better than someone else’s. I would hold Lampard to be an even bigger traitor than van Persie, but that’s only my opinion. One club’s hero can be another club’s hero, it seems.

No, there’s no real way to define what loyalty means to people – everyone will have a different definition. But for me, there’s that one clear class of loyalty that rises above the rest, and that’s the one-club men. Steven Gerrard will still continue to be synonymous with Liverpool, but I don’t think it’ll ever be the same. There’s only one breed of player who couldn’t be explained, couldn’t be complete without the club they represented, and indeed whose club could not be complete without them.