Real Madrid's two prized winter signings — Fernando Gago, the midfield player, and Gonzalo Higuain, the striker — were in the squad who took on Deportivo La Coruña last night. The local press are describing the pair as a dynamic duo, who are set to jump-start Real’s season and restore Fabio Capello’s troops to the top of La Liga. Between them, the pair cost in excess of £20 million. These days, it is an eye-popping sum for two 19-year-olds who have started fewer than 100 professional league matches between them. But perhaps the biggest caveat is that they are Argentinians.
For a land that produces, arguably, more talented footballers than any other bar Brazil, Argentinians have struggled in European leagues, at least in their first season. The most high-profile recent cases are Carlos Tévez and Javier Mascherano at West Ham United and, to a lesser degree, Sergio Aguero at Atlético Madrid. But they are not alone.
Before them, Argentine would-be superstars failed to be instant hits in Italy (Nicolás Burdisso, Mariano Gonzáles, Ernesto Farías), Spain (Maxi López, Sebastián Battaglia), the Netherlands (Mauro Rosales), Portugal (Leando Romagnoli), Russia (Fernando Cavenaghi) and England (Gabriel Paletta, Luciano Figueroa).
Note that all of the above were very young at the time and were highly touted prospects who commanded princely transfer fees. Yet all found the transition to Europe very difficult. Indeed, of the recently arrived Argentinians, the only ones who enjoyed a seamless transition are Lucho Gonzáles, the FC Porto midfield player, Gonzalo Rodríguez, the Villarreal defender, and Diego Milito, the Real Zaragoza striker. (Lionel Messi, the Barcelona forward, is a special case because he arrived in Spain at 14).
Changing continents and cultures in one’s teens or early twenties is always going to require some adjustment, but, curiously, Brazilians have proven more adaptable when going overseas. Given that, if anything, Argentine domestic football is closer in style and substance to Europe than to Brazil, such a disparity in performance cannot be chalked up to footballing differences alone.
Part of the problem is that many of these players are too young and raw to learn a new brand of football. Once they adjust, the cream does rise to the top; just think of Juan Román Riquelme, who was hounded out of Barcelona before establishing himself at Villarreal, or Esteban Cambiasso, who flopped at Real Madrid but was one of the best holding midfield players in Europe at Inter Milan last season.
Sociologists might see a link with the severe economic crisis that hit Argentina in 2001, when the gross domestic product shrank, the country defaulted on its debt and the peso lost 75 per cent of its value against the US dollar. Football clubs were hit hard. Argentina’s top stars had always moved abroad, but, while previously clubs had hung on to them for as long as they could, in an effort to win silverware, all of a sudden it became more important to cash in.
Stars were sold as soon as they were created, which led to a dearth of talent at the top. This was soon rectified when youngsters came through the ranks and, because these youngsters were generally facing others of the same age or opponents who were not good enough to go abroad, they tended to do well.
“Every season we have a next big thing, a new batch of superstars,” Diego Simeone, the head coach of Estudiantes, said. “That’s normal, but what isn’t normal is that these youngsters find themselves playing for the top clubs straight away. And as soon as they do well, they are shipped off and other guys take their place.
“I don’t think it’s good for us,” Simeone said. “OK, I was only 20 when I left in 1990, but I joined Pisa, not Real Madrid or Juventus. When I came over, I was a promising youngster, but not the next Maradona. But these kids find themselves starring for the biggest clubs in Argentina at 18 and, after a season or two, they are off to big European clubs and they’re expected to perform straight away. Maradona did it, but how many are there like him?”
Simeone’s argument — that it takes time for a talented youngster to grow into a world-class footballer — is a valid one. Anybody can cite the Diego Maradonas or Wayne Rooneys of this world, but they are the exceptions. At 22, Ruud van Nistelrooy was still at Heerenveen, Samuel Eto’o at Mallorca, Andriy Shevchenko at Dynamo Kiev and Thierry Henry had just flopped in his six-month stint at Juventus.
Compounding the problem is the fact that Argentina does not see itself as purely a selling nation. Clubs such as Boca Juniors and River Plate are viewed as the equals of the European giants (and, given their history, rightly so), which means that, overnight, a teenager becomes a household name, with all the media pressure and hype that follows. And when they move to a big European club and discover that their team do not, in fact, revolve around them, the repercussions can be severe.
We may hype our youngsters in Europe, but it is a safe bet that no one (apart from, arguably, Rooney) faced the kind of pressure that Tévez, who was Boca’s top scorer and Argentina’s biggest domestic star at the age of 19 — had to deal with. And that may explain why he has found the transition to being an occasional starter at a relegation-threatened club so difficult.
So when shopping around the Argentine footballing supermarket, let the buyer beware. Pick your fruit too green and you are likely to be stuck with a confused, expensive and underachieving flop. At least until it ripens.
By Gabriele Marcotti
For a land that produces, arguably, more talented footballers than any other bar Brazil, Argentinians have struggled in European leagues, at least in their first season. The most high-profile recent cases are Carlos Tévez and Javier Mascherano at West Ham United and, to a lesser degree, Sergio Aguero at Atlético Madrid. But they are not alone.
Before them, Argentine would-be superstars failed to be instant hits in Italy (Nicolás Burdisso, Mariano Gonzáles, Ernesto Farías), Spain (Maxi López, Sebastián Battaglia), the Netherlands (Mauro Rosales), Portugal (Leando Romagnoli), Russia (Fernando Cavenaghi) and England (Gabriel Paletta, Luciano Figueroa).
Note that all of the above were very young at the time and were highly touted prospects who commanded princely transfer fees. Yet all found the transition to Europe very difficult. Indeed, of the recently arrived Argentinians, the only ones who enjoyed a seamless transition are Lucho Gonzáles, the FC Porto midfield player, Gonzalo Rodríguez, the Villarreal defender, and Diego Milito, the Real Zaragoza striker. (Lionel Messi, the Barcelona forward, is a special case because he arrived in Spain at 14).
Changing continents and cultures in one’s teens or early twenties is always going to require some adjustment, but, curiously, Brazilians have proven more adaptable when going overseas. Given that, if anything, Argentine domestic football is closer in style and substance to Europe than to Brazil, such a disparity in performance cannot be chalked up to footballing differences alone.
Part of the problem is that many of these players are too young and raw to learn a new brand of football. Once they adjust, the cream does rise to the top; just think of Juan Román Riquelme, who was hounded out of Barcelona before establishing himself at Villarreal, or Esteban Cambiasso, who flopped at Real Madrid but was one of the best holding midfield players in Europe at Inter Milan last season.
Sociologists might see a link with the severe economic crisis that hit Argentina in 2001, when the gross domestic product shrank, the country defaulted on its debt and the peso lost 75 per cent of its value against the US dollar. Football clubs were hit hard. Argentina’s top stars had always moved abroad, but, while previously clubs had hung on to them for as long as they could, in an effort to win silverware, all of a sudden it became more important to cash in.
Stars were sold as soon as they were created, which led to a dearth of talent at the top. This was soon rectified when youngsters came through the ranks and, because these youngsters were generally facing others of the same age or opponents who were not good enough to go abroad, they tended to do well.
“Every season we have a next big thing, a new batch of superstars,” Diego Simeone, the head coach of Estudiantes, said. “That’s normal, but what isn’t normal is that these youngsters find themselves playing for the top clubs straight away. And as soon as they do well, they are shipped off and other guys take their place.
“I don’t think it’s good for us,” Simeone said. “OK, I was only 20 when I left in 1990, but I joined Pisa, not Real Madrid or Juventus. When I came over, I was a promising youngster, but not the next Maradona. But these kids find themselves starring for the biggest clubs in Argentina at 18 and, after a season or two, they are off to big European clubs and they’re expected to perform straight away. Maradona did it, but how many are there like him?”
Simeone’s argument — that it takes time for a talented youngster to grow into a world-class footballer — is a valid one. Anybody can cite the Diego Maradonas or Wayne Rooneys of this world, but they are the exceptions. At 22, Ruud van Nistelrooy was still at Heerenveen, Samuel Eto’o at Mallorca, Andriy Shevchenko at Dynamo Kiev and Thierry Henry had just flopped in his six-month stint at Juventus.
Compounding the problem is the fact that Argentina does not see itself as purely a selling nation. Clubs such as Boca Juniors and River Plate are viewed as the equals of the European giants (and, given their history, rightly so), which means that, overnight, a teenager becomes a household name, with all the media pressure and hype that follows. And when they move to a big European club and discover that their team do not, in fact, revolve around them, the repercussions can be severe.
We may hype our youngsters in Europe, but it is a safe bet that no one (apart from, arguably, Rooney) faced the kind of pressure that Tévez, who was Boca’s top scorer and Argentina’s biggest domestic star at the age of 19 — had to deal with. And that may explain why he has found the transition to being an occasional starter at a relegation-threatened club so difficult.
So when shopping around the Argentine footballing supermarket, let the buyer beware. Pick your fruit too green and you are likely to be stuck with a confused, expensive and underachieving flop. At least until it ripens.
By Gabriele Marcotti
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