++ [ originally posted by dpforever ] ++
It's a bit old i guess ... Thuram at Parma ??
It's a bit old i guess ... Thuram at Parma ??
Yes, I remember that! Great stuff!
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Yes, I remember that! Great stuff!
Buy on AliExpress.com
Monday, March 24
Nedved and new league rules
Written by Francesca
He is again in bloom, tempting all who watch him with his swift, precise kick and the bravest of hearts. He is Pavel Nedved, a Czech by birth, an Italian by soccer. Over the last few weeks, fate (a result of his teammate's absence because of injuries) and sheer talent, have put Nedved in the spotlight for leading Juventus to the top of the scudetto in Serie A. There has even been talk about the Golden Ball. But sport alone does not sustain a thoughtful man.
That is why Nedved's refusal to join the Italian player's union (AIC) last week, in protest of the Italian FIGC decision to block new foreign players from joining Serie A teams, is getting some attention. According to a March 15 article by Oliver Thompson, under the new rules, Serie B clubs are unable to buy any non-European Union players, and Serie A teams can purchase non-EU players but only to replace a non-EU player already leaving.
In La Gazzetta Dello Sport, Nedved spoke out and loudly against the new rules: "I no longer consider myself a member of an association that supports a discrimination as serious as that recently decreed by the FIGC."
As the Italian national team gears up for an important Euro 2004 qualifier against Finland next week, Nedved's stance takes on new significance. Part of the reason the FIGC implemented these rules is because the Italian national team has played poorly and some say foreign players in Serie A are partially to blame. (Frankly, this sort of debate always goes on in Italy, especially after such a disappointing World Cup performance.)
Nedved calls the new rules racist or discriminatory. But supporters of the latest regulations would say that Nedved's assessment is unfair. His argument would be valid if national teams no longer squared off and league matches were all that mattered. The argument would stand also if the Italian national team and its league were completely independent of one another. But, of course, they are not. Despite an increasing number of league tournaments, the greatest, most important, most watched soccer competition remains the World Cup, a battle between NATIONAL teams.
Yes, the current problems faced by Gli Azzurri probably have more to do with internal politics, the country's history of defensive play and the current coaching style (only the folks in the locker room know for certain!) than the foreign players in Serie A. But supporters of the new rules would tell you that the stranieri unintentionally play a small role as well.
The fact is that when a foreign player gets a spot on an Italian field, a young Italian is either warming the bench or left at home. Either way, as a result, the Italians are failing to grow young men into champions. In addition, many foreign players - from Nedved's teammate David Trezeguet to Ronaldo - got valuable training on Italian pitches, only to use that training against Italy in international play. Granted, the same is true for countries like Spain (Real is a virtual United Nations these days) and even England (there are even some Italians playing in their league). And, yes, globalization has become part of almost every other business, so why not futbol?
Certainly, everyone would agree with Nedved if those nagging national teams no longer existed. But they do. Not only do the national teams exist but wearing the country's jersey and representing fellow countrymen is the greatest honor bestowed upon a player. Frankly, only the players can say for sure, but it seems that a scudetto here and a Champion's League win there mean nothing compared to a World Cup. Nothing. Serie A has become saturated with foreigners, leaving little room for Italian nationals. (Proof: Teams like Napoli and Bari, without funds for expensive imported players, are quite close to relegation, partially because they can not compete with teams made up of international stars.) To keep this in perspective, however, this is one SMALL part of Italy's current struggle to regain its status as a soccer superpower.
That said, the Italians are a loving people, and they welcomed the stranieri with open arms. The majority adhere to the "una faccia, una razza" sentiment. The coaches and league officials know that swinging wide open the doors of soccer made Serie A the best league in the world and brought in tons of revenue. And the entire country, especially the estimated 9,700,000 Juventus fans, are grateful for Nedved, regardless of whether they agree with him. Many in the currently jaded soccer community were dreaming of a player with an interest in the game and its politics, as opposed to those consumed by greed or too afraid to buck the system. As a result, Nedved, with his fierce passion and determination, is the answer to the tifosi's prayers!
courtesy of juventuz.com
Nedved and new league rules
Written by Francesca
He is again in bloom, tempting all who watch him with his swift, precise kick and the bravest of hearts. He is Pavel Nedved, a Czech by birth, an Italian by soccer. Over the last few weeks, fate (a result of his teammate's absence because of injuries) and sheer talent, have put Nedved in the spotlight for leading Juventus to the top of the scudetto in Serie A. There has even been talk about the Golden Ball. But sport alone does not sustain a thoughtful man.
That is why Nedved's refusal to join the Italian player's union (AIC) last week, in protest of the Italian FIGC decision to block new foreign players from joining Serie A teams, is getting some attention. According to a March 15 article by Oliver Thompson, under the new rules, Serie B clubs are unable to buy any non-European Union players, and Serie A teams can purchase non-EU players but only to replace a non-EU player already leaving.
In La Gazzetta Dello Sport, Nedved spoke out and loudly against the new rules: "I no longer consider myself a member of an association that supports a discrimination as serious as that recently decreed by the FIGC."
As the Italian national team gears up for an important Euro 2004 qualifier against Finland next week, Nedved's stance takes on new significance. Part of the reason the FIGC implemented these rules is because the Italian national team has played poorly and some say foreign players in Serie A are partially to blame. (Frankly, this sort of debate always goes on in Italy, especially after such a disappointing World Cup performance.)
Nedved calls the new rules racist or discriminatory. But supporters of the latest regulations would say that Nedved's assessment is unfair. His argument would be valid if national teams no longer squared off and league matches were all that mattered. The argument would stand also if the Italian national team and its league were completely independent of one another. But, of course, they are not. Despite an increasing number of league tournaments, the greatest, most important, most watched soccer competition remains the World Cup, a battle between NATIONAL teams.
Yes, the current problems faced by Gli Azzurri probably have more to do with internal politics, the country's history of defensive play and the current coaching style (only the folks in the locker room know for certain!) than the foreign players in Serie A. But supporters of the new rules would tell you that the stranieri unintentionally play a small role as well.
The fact is that when a foreign player gets a spot on an Italian field, a young Italian is either warming the bench or left at home. Either way, as a result, the Italians are failing to grow young men into champions. In addition, many foreign players - from Nedved's teammate David Trezeguet to Ronaldo - got valuable training on Italian pitches, only to use that training against Italy in international play. Granted, the same is true for countries like Spain (Real is a virtual United Nations these days) and even England (there are even some Italians playing in their league). And, yes, globalization has become part of almost every other business, so why not futbol?
Certainly, everyone would agree with Nedved if those nagging national teams no longer existed. But they do. Not only do the national teams exist but wearing the country's jersey and representing fellow countrymen is the greatest honor bestowed upon a player. Frankly, only the players can say for sure, but it seems that a scudetto here and a Champion's League win there mean nothing compared to a World Cup. Nothing. Serie A has become saturated with foreigners, leaving little room for Italian nationals. (Proof: Teams like Napoli and Bari, without funds for expensive imported players, are quite close to relegation, partially because they can not compete with teams made up of international stars.) To keep this in perspective, however, this is one SMALL part of Italy's current struggle to regain its status as a soccer superpower.
That said, the Italians are a loving people, and they welcomed the stranieri with open arms. The majority adhere to the "una faccia, una razza" sentiment. The coaches and league officials know that swinging wide open the doors of soccer made Serie A the best league in the world and brought in tons of revenue. And the entire country, especially the estimated 9,700,000 Juventus fans, are grateful for Nedved, regardless of whether they agree with him. Many in the currently jaded soccer community were dreaming of a player with an interest in the game and its politics, as opposed to those consumed by greed or too afraid to buck the system. As a result, Nedved, with his fierce passion and determination, is the answer to the tifosi's prayers!
courtesy of juventuz.com
++ [ originally posted by dpforever ] ++
It's a bit old i guess ... Thuram at Parma ??
Anyway, this reminds me of the anti-racism campaign in which Serie A players like Del Piero, Negro, Vieri, and Shevchenko were painted black .. and kept sayingthe motto 'NO to racism' .. it was a nice gesture ..
It's a bit old i guess ... Thuram at Parma ??
Anyway, this reminds me of the anti-racism campaign in which Serie A players like Del Piero, Negro, Vieri, and Shevchenko were painted black .. and kept sayingthe motto 'NO to racism' .. it was a nice gesture ..
There was a similar campaign in England. I remember seeing a TV ad where Ian Wright asked "Would I have scored more goals if I was white" and was then computer-altered to look white. Then David Seaman asked if he would have saved more if he was black and was similarly made black. I think Peter Stringfello was involved too!
Someone once suggested to me that, with the exception of the more extreme elements like the Lazio fans, most such racism shown to players in Italy was more out of a wish to hurt the player than to taunt the black man. Which of course doesn't excuse it in the slightest. What do our resident Italians think?
June 27, 2000
The ayes have it for dreadlocked pitbull
By Ian Chadband
Walking around Rotterdam is to experience an uneasy feeling about what it must be like to have to tackle Edgar Davids on the football pitch. The man is everywhere, on top of you, behind you and in your face.
You walk out of the railway station and there he is, adorning 100ft-high posters on both sides of an office skyscraper, which makes him appear like a space-age ogre in goggles smashing through the glass facade to rip your football off you.
In Amsterdam, it's no different. A thousand billboards have him juggling a ball under the legend 'Welcome to Masterdam', and even when he's not in the picture, as in the countless ads which have a young kid dreaming: 'I love the style of Edgar Davids because it reminds me of mine,' the very name is designed to infect your subconscious.
Turn on the television and it's Davids-meets-Star Wars as he works miracles with a football. There is simply no escape from the dreadlocked pitbull.
It is not simply those smart Nike bods who have pumped their creative resources into deciding Davids, orange specs and all, shall be the fashionable face of Euro 2000.
As this tournament has progressed, you sense that Holland too has learned to really believe that its most frenetic and feisty firebrand is primed to transform the hype into reality.
For it is no coincidence that while the Dutch challenge has gathered irresistible momentum here with every game, so has Davids's massive influence. He started out-of-sorts and indifferently against the Czechs, but by the end of the group stages, was outmuscling Patrick Vieira to be rightly named man of the match in the French game.
Then, facing Yugoslavia, while Patrick Kluivert's finishing and Dennis Bergkamp's creativity provided most of the drooling, nobody needed goggles to recognise who was orchestrating the whole destruction.
It was Davids, unbelievably fit, astonishingly strong, one minute hurling himself around to win unwinnable tackles, the next providing delicate finesse to go with the fight, like when he split the Yugoslav defence in two with the curling pass to set up Kluivert's second.
Seeing him on this evening in Rotterdam was to watch the complete midfielder in action and to marvel at Johan Cruyff's absurd contention just a few days earlier that Davids was 'an ordinary player with poor technique who should keep his mouth shut and concentrate on playing instead of thinking he is the leader of Holland.'
Well, true, Davids has as ever done his fair share of mouthy eyeballing of refs this tournament and he would be the first to concede that, in terms of a divine gift, Cruyff was blessed in a way he never was.
Yet, in the Juventus man, who long ago made the conscious effort to turn himself into the battling 100 per center to compensate for any possible shortcomings in skill, Holland covets something rare among its traditional array of elegant strollers. An unquenchable will to win.
Cruyff, at his greatest, took Holland to the verge of World Cup glory in 1974 and then, after earning an early penalty in the final against West Germany, proceeded to disappear when the going got tough.
Whatever fate befalls Holland in Thursday's semi-final against Italy in Amsterdam, the Serie A men know better than anyone that Juve's soldier will not go missing in action.
As for the backhander that Davids 'thinks he is the leader of Holland', the fact is that out there, even if Frank de Boer wears the captain's armband, it is the vice-captain who clearly stokes the fire.
Yet, like any player whose cult of personality has the habit of dwarfing those around him - think of Beckham's problems for England - Davids has inevitably suffered from a certain envy from those who believe he is not all he is cracked up to be. He probably has not helped himself either - what with his tempestuous antics off the field down the years and because he has never been slow to reveal an obviously high opinion of himself.
Here, it has passed into legend how he once approached Wimbledon champion-to-be Richard Krajicek at a bar and introduced himself thus: 'Hi, I'm Edgar Davids and you're going to be hearing a lot more about me.'
Watching him down at the Dutch training camp in Hoenderloo is instructive. Like many who bear his weight of celebrity, he can come across as a bit aloof and arrogant.
Woe betide the questioner who wants to delve into his stormy past, like his expulsion from the unhappy Euro 96 camp when he said farewell to coach Guus Hiddink with a hail of abuse and paid with a two-year exile from the squad.
Pity the reporter who got too close, tapping him on the shoulder last week only to be snarled at: 'Get off me . . . act normally.' Gulp. It's not a good idea to wind up a piranha.
His official investiture as a Nike god was guaranteed to irritate as well and there are those who will not be convinced that his wearing of those infernal goggles is anything more than a commercial gimmick when he himself explains patiently that they are for protection because he is suffering from glaucoma.
Even here, he has had to display his fighting spirit, having to battle with FIFA and the IOC to let him wear them on medical grounds.
But then if Davids has fought with everyone from coaches and reporters to the two Milanese muggers he once knocked seven bells out of when they tried to hold him up in his Porsche, it is because he has had to fight for everything.
To make his way out of the Amsterdam ghetto; to make sure Holland's rich new breed of Surinamese players, for whom he has been the inspiration, got what they were worth from a Dutch football scene which had for years been guilty of undervaluing and underpaying them; and, above all, to earn respect.
Now he has it and the sharpest barbs can't make him rise to the bait when he responds with bitten tongue that: 'Cruyff is a spectator and I can't agree with him.'
At 27, on the outside at least, there are signs of a new contentment from a man in his mature prime. He even insists, like the ideal team man, that: 'I'm not the only leader in this squad.'
Yet the sweetest news for Holland is that all the old aggression, albeit with the ever-present threat of red cards it brings with it, has never been unleashed more profitably on the field.
When he whooped and pumped his arms manically before the French game, oblivious to the fact that the Dutch national anthem had not even finished, it was nothing to do with image, and everything to do with passion.
That skyscraper makeover may have been undertaken as an adman's fantasy, but by the day, it is increasingly resembling a giant national love letter.
The ayes have it for dreadlocked pitbull
By Ian Chadband
Walking around Rotterdam is to experience an uneasy feeling about what it must be like to have to tackle Edgar Davids on the football pitch. The man is everywhere, on top of you, behind you and in your face.
You walk out of the railway station and there he is, adorning 100ft-high posters on both sides of an office skyscraper, which makes him appear like a space-age ogre in goggles smashing through the glass facade to rip your football off you.
In Amsterdam, it's no different. A thousand billboards have him juggling a ball under the legend 'Welcome to Masterdam', and even when he's not in the picture, as in the countless ads which have a young kid dreaming: 'I love the style of Edgar Davids because it reminds me of mine,' the very name is designed to infect your subconscious.
Turn on the television and it's Davids-meets-Star Wars as he works miracles with a football. There is simply no escape from the dreadlocked pitbull.
It is not simply those smart Nike bods who have pumped their creative resources into deciding Davids, orange specs and all, shall be the fashionable face of Euro 2000.
As this tournament has progressed, you sense that Holland too has learned to really believe that its most frenetic and feisty firebrand is primed to transform the hype into reality.
For it is no coincidence that while the Dutch challenge has gathered irresistible momentum here with every game, so has Davids's massive influence. He started out-of-sorts and indifferently against the Czechs, but by the end of the group stages, was outmuscling Patrick Vieira to be rightly named man of the match in the French game.
Then, facing Yugoslavia, while Patrick Kluivert's finishing and Dennis Bergkamp's creativity provided most of the drooling, nobody needed goggles to recognise who was orchestrating the whole destruction.
It was Davids, unbelievably fit, astonishingly strong, one minute hurling himself around to win unwinnable tackles, the next providing delicate finesse to go with the fight, like when he split the Yugoslav defence in two with the curling pass to set up Kluivert's second.
Seeing him on this evening in Rotterdam was to watch the complete midfielder in action and to marvel at Johan Cruyff's absurd contention just a few days earlier that Davids was 'an ordinary player with poor technique who should keep his mouth shut and concentrate on playing instead of thinking he is the leader of Holland.'
Well, true, Davids has as ever done his fair share of mouthy eyeballing of refs this tournament and he would be the first to concede that, in terms of a divine gift, Cruyff was blessed in a way he never was.
Yet, in the Juventus man, who long ago made the conscious effort to turn himself into the battling 100 per center to compensate for any possible shortcomings in skill, Holland covets something rare among its traditional array of elegant strollers. An unquenchable will to win.
Cruyff, at his greatest, took Holland to the verge of World Cup glory in 1974 and then, after earning an early penalty in the final against West Germany, proceeded to disappear when the going got tough.
Whatever fate befalls Holland in Thursday's semi-final against Italy in Amsterdam, the Serie A men know better than anyone that Juve's soldier will not go missing in action.
As for the backhander that Davids 'thinks he is the leader of Holland', the fact is that out there, even if Frank de Boer wears the captain's armband, it is the vice-captain who clearly stokes the fire.
Yet, like any player whose cult of personality has the habit of dwarfing those around him - think of Beckham's problems for England - Davids has inevitably suffered from a certain envy from those who believe he is not all he is cracked up to be. He probably has not helped himself either - what with his tempestuous antics off the field down the years and because he has never been slow to reveal an obviously high opinion of himself.
Here, it has passed into legend how he once approached Wimbledon champion-to-be Richard Krajicek at a bar and introduced himself thus: 'Hi, I'm Edgar Davids and you're going to be hearing a lot more about me.'
Watching him down at the Dutch training camp in Hoenderloo is instructive. Like many who bear his weight of celebrity, he can come across as a bit aloof and arrogant.
Woe betide the questioner who wants to delve into his stormy past, like his expulsion from the unhappy Euro 96 camp when he said farewell to coach Guus Hiddink with a hail of abuse and paid with a two-year exile from the squad.
Pity the reporter who got too close, tapping him on the shoulder last week only to be snarled at: 'Get off me . . . act normally.' Gulp. It's not a good idea to wind up a piranha.
His official investiture as a Nike god was guaranteed to irritate as well and there are those who will not be convinced that his wearing of those infernal goggles is anything more than a commercial gimmick when he himself explains patiently that they are for protection because he is suffering from glaucoma.
Even here, he has had to display his fighting spirit, having to battle with FIFA and the IOC to let him wear them on medical grounds.
But then if Davids has fought with everyone from coaches and reporters to the two Milanese muggers he once knocked seven bells out of when they tried to hold him up in his Porsche, it is because he has had to fight for everything.
To make his way out of the Amsterdam ghetto; to make sure Holland's rich new breed of Surinamese players, for whom he has been the inspiration, got what they were worth from a Dutch football scene which had for years been guilty of undervaluing and underpaying them; and, above all, to earn respect.
Now he has it and the sharpest barbs can't make him rise to the bait when he responds with bitten tongue that: 'Cruyff is a spectator and I can't agree with him.'
At 27, on the outside at least, there are signs of a new contentment from a man in his mature prime. He even insists, like the ideal team man, that: 'I'm not the only leader in this squad.'
Yet the sweetest news for Holland is that all the old aggression, albeit with the ever-present threat of red cards it brings with it, has never been unleashed more profitably on the field.
When he whooped and pumped his arms manically before the French game, oblivious to the fact that the Dutch national anthem had not even finished, it was nothing to do with image, and everything to do with passion.
That skyscraper makeover may have been undertaken as an adman's fantasy, but by the day, it is increasingly resembling a giant national love letter.