Copa América preview

This was my tournament preview for Eircome Sports Hub

Original article HERE

In recent weeks the world has seen the ugly side of Argentine football. As the most successful club in the country’s history, River Plate, sank to relegation the contemptible scenes- sadly, all too familiar in domestic football there- attracted worldwide attention. In the first leg of their promotion/relegation play-off away at Belgrano, scores of barras bravas (hooligans who infest the structures of the clubs themselves) poured onto the field and threatened the players before making their way back into the crowd. Last Sunday in the return leg, a banner reading ‘Kill or Die’ outside the Estadio Monumental made their feelings clear. As the unthinkable became reality, River supporters tore their seats up in disgust and left a trail of destruction on the streets after the game. Fears that the Monumental might not be ready for the tournament were greatly exaggerated though; indeed the capital will only host one game in this 43rd Copa América, the final itself.

And this brings us onto happier matters; how this might just be the greatest edition of the world’s oldest international tournament to date. Bearing in mind that the scenes which shame domestic football in this country are unlikely to be a factor, the reasons for this are twofold.

One is that AFA has made the enlightened move of bringing the game to the people, and to the provinces. This is no small matter in a country that, despite its size and population, is nearly as centralised as its tiny neighbour, Uruguay. Buenos Aires dominates the local footballing landscape, but in truth this push for decentralisation both recognises and should accelerate existing trends within domestic football there.

And so it is that we will see games in disparate locations like Jujuy and Salta in the far northwest, closer to Peru than the capital. Further down along on the Chilean frontier, San Juan and Mendoza- the latter significantly home to one of provincial football’s great recent success stories, Godoy Cruz- as well the more central Cordoba and Santa Fé. Finally, games will also be hosted in La Plata, an hour south of Buenos Aires, and home to most successful club in recent seasons; Juan Sebastian Veron’s Estudiantes, who won the league last year having worn the continental crown in 2009. From a structural standpoint, it’s going to be a fascinating tournament.

But equally, from a footballing point of view, this year’s Copa América could hardly be more mouthwatering. There has never been a time when the continent could boast such strength in depth. While Brazil and Argentina remain the undisputed favourites, there are many other teams to look for here. For this, we can thank the marathon CONMEBOL World Cup qualifying tournament, which has raised the standard across the continent as a whole to unprecedented levels. Who would have predicted 20 years ago that Ecuador would be producing players of the quality of Manchester United’s Antonio Valencia? They might not have made last year’s world cup, but qualifying in 2002 and 2006 (reaching the last 16 in the latter) was no fluke as that country’s football continues to grow. Even baseball crazy Venezuela, hosts of the last Copa in 2007 and once the San Marino of the region, will be using this year’s Copa as a springboard to making their assault on World Cup qualification in 2014. In the 2010 qualifiers, indications of their improvement could be seen as they held a rampant Brazil side to a draw on away ground. Uruguay, of course, struggled to to even get there via a playoff but turned out to be one of the revelations of last summer’s World Cup.

But it remains true that it is hard to look beyond Brazil and Argentina. The hosts haven’t won this trophy in 18 years, and indeed will be mindful that Uruguay could again overtake them at the top of the role of honour should they triumph here. Their case looks good. Coach Sergio ‘Checho’ Batista seems to have hit upon his own imitation of the Barcelona style, and is finally getting the best out of Lionel Messi. Their options up front are the envy of world football. Despite rumours that Carlos Tévez- so nearly omitted altogether both on footballing grounds and due to his disruptive presence- may start tonight appear wide of the mark. Checho is likely to persist with Angel Di María and Napoli’s Ezequiel Lavezzi alongside Messi, a fluid frontline that has served him well to date. This means that stellar figures such as Sergio Agüero, Gonzalo Higuaín and Diego Milito may well be keeping Manchester City’s talisman company on the bench. With a much more balanced midfield trade-off between tenacity and creativity than we saw in the latter stages of last year’s World Cup, they are also the best served in that area of the field. The backline remains a worry, however. Although Javier Zanetti, a surprise absentee from South Africa will bolster that area, they are poorly served both in goal and at centre back. What a pity that Nicolas Otamendi, impressive in his debut season for Porto, misses out.

Brazil are at an interesting stage in their development. Upon taking the helm, Mano Manezes’ brief was to inject some badly needed creativity in the middle of the park, and while this process has had its ups and downs, it’s beginning to bear fruit. It’s debatable whether a talent such as Santos’ playmaker, Paulo Henrique Ganso, would have ever featured in a Dunga team; and along with Robinho and his Copa Libertadores winning club mate, the current golden boy of South American football, Neymar they will be fluid in attack. Playing Alexandre Pato, hardly an orthodox number 9, through the centre certainly makes things fascinating. And there is still no team in international football with a back 5, both starting and in reserve, to match theirs.

We will deal with the groups in due course, but not to mention Chile and Uruguay at this point would be sacrilege. In a season where Alexis Sánchez has made the transition from promising talent to bonafide superstar, the side whose adventurous spirit captured many a neutral heart last summer look even more dangerous here. It’s a shame that coach Marcelo Bielsa has departed due to political infighting within the federation, but their new coach Claudio Borghi will add defensive solidity without stymying their attacking threats. The astute and tough-tackling Sevilla midfielder Gary Medel, one of the few men in recent memory to make Xavi Hernández flinch, will patrol the middle of the park. For this writer, they represent the most likely side to rain on the establishment’s parade here.

Right behind them will be Uruguay, whom they face-off against in the group stage. Coach Oscar Washington Tabárez’s tactically flexibility was a key component of their success last summer. Aside from a shock defeat in Estonia in March, they still seem to perform better against European opposition than South American; although, in light of their struggles in reaching South Africa they are now well placed to buck that trend. In a side packed with quality, from the front back to the likes of captain Diego Lugano, Diego Godín, Nicolas Lodeiro and Walter Gargano, all eyes will be on Diego Forlán. He went from hero to persona non grata at Atlético Madrid last term, enduring a torrid season. With the emergence of Edinson Cavani and the continued excellence of Luís Suárez, that pressure to lead the line has been lifted. If he can shrug off his club woes and bring spark to this attack, than we’re looking at a unit that runs Argentina’s close for firepower.

Group by Group:



Group A

Argentina, Colombia, Costa Rica, Bolivia

Argentina, quite rightly, will fancy their chances of topping this group. They open the tournament tonight against Bolivia, hoping to erase the painful memory of a 6-1 defeat at altitude away to their opponents two years ago. Colombia should join them, but the continent’s sleeping giants will need to up their game significantly to make a serious impression on this tournament. That a man like Rademal Falcão, who netted 39 times last season for Porto (including a record 18 in their march to the Europa League), has managed a mere 7 in 28 international starts tells you a lot about where their problems lie; they simply don’t score enough goals. Whether their slow, short-passing game suits the striker’s strengths is an open-and-shut debate. In the centre, Freddy Guarín, once a teenage prodigy who lost his way for a while, enjoyed a renaissance in his third year at Porto under the guidance of André Villas-Boas. With all due respect to the remaining sides, Costa Rica will be fielding a weakened selection having just competed in the CONCACAF Gold Cup and along with Bolivia, it’s hard to see either sneaking through as one of the two best-ranked third-placed sides.



Group B

Brazil, Paraguay, Ecuador, Venezuela

Brazil are favourites to progress along with Paraguay, and this is probably justified. But despite reaching the World Cup quarter-finals last year, Paraguay are unlikely to have it all their own way. Like Ecuador, they are in the process of renewal but could be carrying too many of the old guns. Venezuela have emerged as a competitive side in recent years, and will be hoping to rank third. Outside of the group winners, this is surely the hardest group to call.



Group C

Uruguay, Chile, Peru, Mexico

On the face of, this might look to be the most competitive group of the lot, but appearances can be misleading. It would be a surprise if Chile and Uruguay fail to make up the automatic positions. It’s hard to know what we can expect of Mexico. Their stunning Gold Cup victory last Saturday was built on their recent success at underage level, and the idea here was to bring an under-23 squad supplemented by 5 overage age players. Two weeks ago, however, 5 of their players were suspended after testing positive for a banned substance; the Mexican federation is currently fighting their case, claiming that the substance was innocently ingested through meat. Then, just two days after that memorable victory over the USA, 8 more players (including senior defender Jonathan dos Santos) were suspended after prostitutes they brought back to the team hotel in a stopover in Ecuador ransacked the players’ rooms. They should be good to make it as one of the best third-placed teams however, as Peru- already at something of a low ebb- will be without Claudio Pizarro and have key figure such as Jefferson Fárfan, Pablo Guerrero and Juan Vargas all struggling for fitness. Don’t expect much of an impact from the Andean side here.



Ones to Watch:

Ever Banega & Javier Pastore (Argentina) Pastore has come of age this season for Palermo, and although he was included in Diego Maradona’s World Cup squad last summer, arguably the most striking omission then was Valencia’s Ever Banega. Banega struggled to adapt to European football initially, and might have become on those talents who suffer from making the jump too early. But for almost two and a half years now he has consistently gone about his business and developed into the sort of player we’d all hoped he’d become. Squat, with quick feet and a keen eye for a pass, his distribution from the middle has become a defining feature of Batista’s Argentina. But such has been the emergence of Pastore that his place in the starting XI (presuming Checho choose to retain the solidity offered by Javier Mascherano and Esteban Cambiasso) is under real threat. Both players have the capability to light up this tournament. Which one seizes the opportunity to do so will be an intriguing side story.

Neymar & Paulo Henrique Ganso (Brazil) Chuck D once implored us not to believe the hype, but Neymar has shown himself capable of backing up the hyperbolé lashed on him; and then some. With fouls given so readily in domestic Brazilian football, question marks remained about his ability to thrive on the world stage, given his infuriating propensity to dive. But Neymar is more than capable of looking after himself; being offered little protection from the referee but with his Nacional marker on a yellow and looking likely to pick a second in the first leg of the Libertadores Cup Final, Neymar hastened his opponent’s premature departure with a snide piece of revenge, leaving a gash on that hatchet man’s thigh. In the second leg, with Ganso fit again, the pair ran riot in a sublime display of pressing and attacking wizardry which the 2-1 scoreline did scant justice to. Ganso is exactly the sort of midfield maestro the seleçao have lacked in recent times, and his clever, probing passes could really bring the best out of a fluid frontline. With Neymar always looking to cut in from wide, and with his favoured trick of shaping to curl to the far-post before clipping it home near no less bewilderingly effective for being utterly predictable, this pair will give opposing defences twisted blood as they struggle to get to grips with them.



Edinson Cavani (Uruguay) What more can be written about El Matador that hasn’t been already? Well, for those who don’t follow Serie A closely, this man was the success story of the season. Having predominantly played out wide for club and country, Walter Mazzari’s decision to employ him through the middle for Napoli meant Fabio Quagliarella’s defection to Juventus was scarcely noticed. He announced himself with a brace on his Serie A debut, and has hardly stopped scoring since. Whether it be a hat-trick of headers against Juve, another hat-trick in a pulsating 4-3 win over Lazio, or that stunning 95th minute virtuoso effort to clinch a 1-0 victory over Lecce, he has been nothing short of phenomenal. Superb in the air, and good with both feet, it’s not just in front of goal that he excels; his work in the build-up play and defensively are both impressive too. Ireland supporters got a chance to witness his ability at the Aviva last March, and should Uruguay progress as expected, he represents good value to finish as top scorer here.



Rademal Falcão (Colombia) As mentioned already, Falcão has struggled to make the same impact internationally as he has at club level, but that’s not all down to his own efforts. If Colombia have the good sense to play to his strengths, he can have a wonderful tournament here. And if Colombia can manage that, we could see them going deep into the competition for the first time since their 2001 on home soil.



Lucas Barrios (Paraguay) Argentina-born, but part of the Paraguayan diaspora, Barrios last year made the call to turn out for the country of his parents’ birth. Don’t let the fact that he might have struggled to get game time for Argentina fool you (this is a team that were, up until the last minute, looking to omit Carlos Tévez entirely from their Copa squad). He’s had a fine season at Borussia Dortmund where he helped the club to the Bundesliga title, and has all the attributes you could ask for in a centre-forward; powerful, fast, direct and mobile, he also benefits from great technique and knows where the goal is. With Roque Santa Cruz out of sorts, and Oscar Cardozo not even in the squad given his inability to bring his Benfica form to the national side, Barrios is the man Paraguay will be looking to to fire them into the latter stages of the Copa.



Alexis Sánchez (Chile) The figures being bandied around for Alexis Sánchez may appear bewildering to some, but not to those who’ve tracked his career or seen his displays last season in Italy; and not to all those huge clubs who’ve come to recognise that the forward would make a fine addition even to the very best of teams. Udinese boss Guidolin’s decision to move him from the wing into that central trequartista area behind the main strikes has reaped dividends; Sánchez responded with his best season to date, capped by a string of superb individual display, firing his side to an unlikely Champions League qualifier berth. Udinese will hope to retain his services to aid their European campaign next term, but with the player looking for a fresh challenge a move seems nigh-on certain. Whoever wants to snatch away this special talent will have to break the bank though. With Chile looking a good bet to make the semis in Argentina, it’s all set up nicely for the attacker to have a stellar tournament to match the stellar fee he’ll command.

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Copa América Memories: 1999 – EL LOCO’S DARKEST HOUR

Some call him ‘El Loco’; other prefers ‘El Titán’. Born in La Plata in 1973, he started his pro career banging goals in for his local club- Estudiantes- and he’s barely let up ever since. In a career that’s taken him to Spain via the Federal Capital- and back again- he signed off at home for the club which he became synonymous, Boca Juniors, last Sunday in a 1-1 draw against Belgrano at the Bombonera. 297 all-in-all goals in 609 professional club appearances tells us something as to why he held in such reverence; eight Primera División titles, two Copa Libertadores, and one Intercontinental Cup tells us more.

He never quite cut it in Europe; to be fair, Palermo in many ways does not resemble the prototype of an Argentine forward. Moreover, injuries robbed him of speed. Tall and gangly, he certainly doesn’t stride like a footballer. His first touch remains uncultured. If no-one can deny that there is one thing that defines him, it is his goals; and underpinning that are his two other great qualities- presence; and huevos. Balls.

There were no goals for the blonde-haired centre forward on the day he achieved international notoriety, July 4 1999. The stage was Copa América group C, the opponent Colombia, and the setting Asunción, Paraguay. It is a game that still defies logic. Five penalty kicks were awarded that day, including the one that led to Ivan Córdoba’s opener for the Colombians ten minutes in. Javier Zanetti, of all people, was shown a straight red 21 minutes from the end for a reckless barge; so, too, was his manager Marcelo Bielsa.

That erratic genius of a coach added to the surreality of the night in his post-mast reaction. When asked what he thought of the referee he, characteristically, stared blankly into space for what seemed an eternity before replying. “Well, I usually don’t like to comment on referees, but…”. But. And it’s true, he doesn’t. But, here we went, surely?

But no. “Well. Regarding my expulsion all I will say is that Señor Aquino was absolutely correct because I protested in an such an ill-mannered form”. Crikey.

But no, this match will be remembered for none of that. Not a whit.

Palermo had already opened his account for tournament in the first game versus Ecuador, netting his first and second goals for the albiceleste. WhenArgentina were awarded a penalty with the scoring level in their second game, he was the natural candidate to step forward to take the kick. His presence, more than anything, had forced the Colombian centre-half into this foolish concession by handball. His every move screamed confidence.

Staring down the opposing goalkeeper, Miguel Calero, he smacked a ferocious shot down the centre. With Calero committed, the ball accelerated with such force that you feared for the netting. Instead, the ball hit the crossbar flush before arcing over the end line for a goal-kick. ‘Palo!’ the commentator, Marcelo Araujo screamed. The Colombians had been let off the hook. Within three minutes, the rattled Argentines had presented their unfancied opponents with a gift they were in no mood to pass up. Córdoba, this time, made no mistake from 12 yards.

Yet,Argentina were still the better side and it simply looked a case of when- not if- they would strike back. Watching the re-run on Fox Sport Clásico, they appear superior to their opponents in every aspect. After the tragic failure of USA 1994, Colombia were going through a generational change but were a country without a track record of possessing those key attributes of peerless talent, belief and continuity that mark the continents two super-powers’ ability to manage such transition.

More wedded than ever to the slow short-passing game 0f their  erstwhile trainer, Francisco Maturana, they no longer had those deadly technicians or that devastating turn of attacking acceleration which had seen them eviscerate their opponents 5-0 on their own turf six years hence, forcing the Argentines into a humiliating play-off against Australia and an ill-starred recall for a physically ruined Diego Maradona to make the World Cup in the US. Here, Argentina were bigger, more coherent, feistier, and asked serious questions of this dubious Colombian defence.

After the break, it was more of the same. The only thing missing was end-product. If only, you felt, they could pick out Palermo in the right position the Colombians were there for the taking. Yet from one incisive centre-field switch, Zanetti coughed up a cross on the right that looked to be sailing harmlessly away from danger until the referee blew his whistle for a push so devilishly subtle fromArgentina’s central defender, Astrada, that nobody but the official noticed it. Bielsa slumped to the turf and flailed his arms as his defenders protested.

The replay showed that Hamilton Ricard, the man supposedly fouled, had barely been within three feet of his purported assailant at the time. This one was going from weird to weirder, and worse was to come. Ricard, with the look of a man with the church chalice protruding from his satchel, dispatched a poor strike which Roberto Abbondanzieri palmed to his right before clutching unopposed at the second attempt. Justice had been served.

As the game became more open and loose, the rangy young enganche Juan Román Riquelme wrestled control in the centre as Colombia dropped back, his clever through-balls to the predatory Palermo coming closer each time to yielding a leveler. Somehow, dogged resistance, dumb luck, and indecisiveness meant we entered the final quarter mark with Colombia still ahead.

The commentators, Araujo and his sidekick, noted the sheer distraction factor of Palermo, how the entire defence seemed fixated upon his physical presence; and how just- if only- a midfield runner could intelligently use his decoy presence then the entire Colombian strategy of sitting on their 12 yard line could come unstuck.Argentinahas stuck to their philosophy and were doing everything right. Bar the odd Colombian pot-shot, it was all one-way traffic and Riquelme was in magisterial form. Eventually, a mistake would come, and eventually the right opportunity would present itself.

And finally it came. Under sustained pressure, Colombia allowed Kily González and Riquelme to exchange passes out on the left before the enganche swung a deftly flighted ball towards Palermo at the back post. The only way to to stop him was to impede him; the decision was an easy one. “Penalti!” Bielsa, who moments before had had the countenance of a man being told his sister had been abducted by a band of Ratko Mládic’s irregulars erupted, jumping, bellowing and eyes bulging. “It’s ON!”

While the Colombians crowded the the referee on the penalty spot, Martin Palermo looked the coolest customer in town as he placed the ball on the mark, oblivious to their half-hearted protestations. The melee cleared, and just as before but from the opposite end he began his run-up from twelve yards, utterly unfazed.

Fixing his socks in place, he set in motion. “Vamooooo Martín, vamooo Martín!” implored Araujo. Same boot, same situation. This time the ball flew into the stands without ever coming close to the touching the bar. Unbelievable! “Por dios…. Por favor…. cómo puede ser?” For the love of god, how can it be so?  intoned the comentarista as Palermo yanked up his nicks like a nappy, that cold exterior finally succumbing to anguish.

The players were losing the plot, just as Bielsa now was losing his. And the referee? He’d never had much of one to begin with. Bielsa was led away from the pitch by a pair of heavies with regulation 1970′s beige military dictator suits and glasses. And yet still, it was a one goal game. Not for long though. A corner on the right saw Palermo lose his man at the wrong end of the field, allowing Edwin Congo to ghost home a sublime finish from the centre that all but sealed the group for his side.

It was some minutes before play resumed. The Colombians, understandably, were every bit as ecstatic as the Porteños were shell-shocked. But the drama wasn’t finished. Bielsa teams know only one way to play, and that is to attack. It is what makes his sides so invigorating to watch, regardless of the outcome. Just as his Chile side did against Spain against all the odds in South Africa last summer, now the selección continued to go toe-to-toe a man short.

They were making good headway through the centre when that clown of an árbitro, Ubaldo Aquino- deciding to do what their opponents had given up on trying- broke up a fine passing move as Diego Simeone sought to feed the ball centrally. Their tails up, the Colombians took maximum advantage as Freddy Rincón fed the 16 year-old wonderkid Jhonnier Montaño who sliced through the off-guard albiceleste defence to plant a golazo worthy of winning any game having spotted Abbondanzieri fractionally off his line from some 30 yards out. 3-0. 3-0! Mad, bad, and insane in every membrane possible. This had been one hell of a game. But yet… but yet.

The crowd oléd every successful Colombia pass. Now the timid had turned tormenter, taunting their opponents as the Scots once did at Wembley safe in the knowledge that whatever happened, they would not suffer the hubristic comeuppance Cruyff’s Holland did when their cockiness kicked in too early in the 1974 World Cup Final. Ping-ping-ping. Now it was Argentina who were chasing shadows and looking a shambles. But there remained one defiant man with unfeasible testicular fortitude who was not willing to take this humiliation sat on his arse; even as yet another colleague ended up on his in the middle of yet another mocking Colombian rombo. Who else could it have been?

Pressing like a man possessed, fighting against a lost cause that would have left Saint Anthony himself aghast, Martín Palermo picked the pocket of melina (that wonderfully Italian protoype of tiki-taka where the defence circulate the ball against an already beaten opponent) to surge into the area.

Surge? Maybe that’s too powerful a word. He was spent. Upon being crowded out by two recovering defenders he simply collapsed to the ground, dead from his efforts. But it was by no means the most preposterous of fouls given by Aquino on the night, and in truth, who would have begrudged Argentina some consolation on a night of such utter insanity? Even the defence barely bothered to protest. But what was this?

Palermo was already on his feet, if not exactly marching, then at least purposefully making his way towards the mark. If any team-mate was so foolish as to insist on stopping this beast from having his shot at at partial redemption, they certainly lacked the pelotas to do so; certainly lacked the pelotas of Palermo himself.

That icy stare appeared again, but this time tinged with a hint of desperation. The Bull from La Plata was panting. It was the fifth penalty of the night. It had been emotional… and then some. But, after all that had transpired before, there was not a hope he would cede duties to any of his shattered team-mates.

Most coaches tell you you must know how to shoot with both feet, but then Martín Palermo has never been one who conforms to what most coaches demand. His run up lacked the pace of his previous two. Surely this was fatigue, so evident, but it also lacked the earlier certainty. He didn’t seek power and height this time. Instead, an equally jaded Calero was grateful to save his left-footed shot in that area keepers always most favour- just off centre to the opposite side off their opponent’s preferred foot. Colombia celebrated again.

Palermo trudged off, bowed but not beaten. Within hours, even CNN in the United States was treating its viewers to this most cruel of tragicomedies. It was the talk of schoolyards from Ireland to Iran, and Japan to Cape Town. For those of us outside of outside of South America, at the dawn of the internet age, it was our introduction to the man.

But even at this moment of failure, it encapsulates what all Argentines love about this guy. Even the River fans, even those who scorned his selections during Diego Maradona’s crazed reign. Here was a man with balls the size of Mexico. A man whose sheer bloody-mindedness and refusal to admit defeat we could all aspire to.

His subsequent career saw highs and lows. In the short-term, his standing in the eyes of European scouts barely diminished. His stellar performance against Real to claim the Intercontinental Cup Final in 2000 proved he still had the power, pace, and finishing ability to make it in Europe.

After some initial success following a move to a Villarreal side looking to cement their newly-found status in Spain’s top flight, he suffered some unfortunate injuries and was never quite the same beast. Following those, his technical shortcomings were exposed at the highest level in Europe. Uncowed, he returned home to become the greatest goalscorer in Boca’s modern history.

When he finally reappeared on the world stage to rescue Argentina’s 2010 World Cup qualification, even that was questioned in some corners by the highest journalistic authorities. He did just that, at the moment Argentina stared elimination from South Africa 2010 in the face even before the flights had been booked.

But no one well ever question the man, his goals, his balls. Or is heart. How fitting that on his fleeting recall he managed to net against Greece in South Africa, becoming the oldest Argentine after the great El Diego himself to hit the mark in a World Cup to do so. Not through ephedrine. Not through natural gifts. But by taking what limited gifts he possessed and making more of them than a lesser man could ever have dreamed of.

Highlights of all three penalty misses. 

Extended highlights of the game. 

Joseph is a freelance Spanish correspondent for Back Page Football and Scotzine. You can follow him on Twitter @josephsbcn. 

This article originally appeared in The Oval Log

Born winners, regular guys and great friends will come out on top in Champions League final

This was my Champions League final preview for STV's Sports Blog


Pic: ©Reuters


On Saturday night, we will witness two of Europe’s heavyweights go into battle on the hallowed turf of Wembley, the site of the pair’s maiden European coronations.

As preposterous as it may seem on the face of it, both sides could be also labelled as Europe’s great underachievers, alongside Juventus. Both sides bring to the table proud histories: histories of success, and of sparkling football; commitment to developing their own, and imposing their style.

Manchester United enter this final fresh from knocking Liverpool off their domestic perch; Barcelona having emerged the victor of a gruelling series against a Real Madrid side desperate to make amends for last November’s memorable 5-0 manita at the Camp Nou.

If the plaudits for Sir Alex Ferguson’s side have been reserved, qualified even, they are inverse to the unanimity of those bestowed upon the blaugrana. But where there is no divergence is in their eagerness to make up for lost time and write some new history, trailing as they do their principal domestic rivals’ illustrious tallies in the greatest club competition of them all. Bitter foes have been put in their place domestically and now both seek to reel them in here too.

2009’s final may have represented a slap in the face for United, being as it was their first ever defeat in a European final; but Barcelona are no strangers to the pain of defeat on the ultimate stage. It is scarcely believable now that they took the field here at the old Wembley 19 years ago against Sampdoria having never worn the continent’s crown.

The competition had served up a turd on a stick in the final the year before, as a gifted Red Star Belgrade cynically played for penalties en route to victory against Marseille; but as 1992’s final entered the final ten minutes of additional time goalless, nobody could complain of a lack of entertainment.

This was Johann Cruyff’s Dream Team of Hristo Stoichkov, José María Bakero et al with a young Josep Guardiola giving the prompts from midfield. Spoiling tactics simply weren’t part of their vocabulary. Their opponents, with Gianluca Vialli, Roberto Mancini and the flying Atillio Lombardo in their pomp correctly sensed this might be the only chance for Samp, and were keen to seize it.

Nonetheless, as the game edged towards penalties one could sense the Catalans’ growing angst. They had agonisingly lost the ’86 to final to Steaua Bucharest in Seville through that particular lottery, and now the nightmare scenario was looming again.

Those with longer memories cast their minds back the days of Helenio Herrera, and Barça’s great team of that era who had the historical misfortune to coexist with Real during their staggering five-cup European haul. Herrera got the boot for bowing out to the Madrid club at the semi final stage in Europe, and went on to dominate the competition with Inter.

Barcelona’s solitary final in 1961 saw them go trophyless after five goal thriller against Benfica. The hopes and dreams of a nation weighed heavily on the shoulders of the 11 men on the park in London.

With 111 minutes on the clock, they won a free-kick just outside the opposing D. The referee, Aron Schmidhuber, flashed a card as the Sampdoria defence tried to slow things down. The tension amongst both ranks was palpable. Schmidhuber drew on his whistle. Stoichkov and Bakero teed the ball up for Ronald Koeman to blast home. At long last, the wait was over.

It’s possible to speak of a Barcelona before 1992 and after, but one central stand binds both eras and it represented in two figures; Cruyff, the star of the 1970s whose intellectual blueprint imported from Ajax underpins the club’s philosophy to this day, and the man who carries that tradition as he returns to the site of that famous win this weekend, Pep Guardiola.

Through the good times and the bad, that philosophy has been imprinted on the very DNA of the club to the extent where then-president Joan Laporta baulked at the possibility of hiring José Mourinho three summers ago, preferring to promote the untested Guardiola from his post in charge of Barcelona’s B side.

On the field, the team were in turmoil and the last two years of the Frank Rijkaard era had left Real in the ascendent. Having finished third, and 18 points behind a Real team who had hammered them 4-1 before the season ended, the task to turn it around was enormous. Many people questioned whether Guardiola had the credentials to do so.

That seems a very long time ago now.

It is not just that Barcelona have been incredibly successful, though they have. It is not just that they have dished out humiliation upon humiliation on Real, although that helps too. It is not that they won all six available trophies in Guardiola’s first 18 months in charge, but this is a large part of it; victory on Saturday we see him become the clubs most successful coach in its starred history.

Winning is important, and here we have a team of born winners. But is the fact that they been so successful with this unique Barcelona style that brings the greatest satisfaction of all. The players belief in each other and the method is what marks this Barcelona side as being something different, something truly special indeed.

It’s not even about a desire to be remembered as being amongst the greatest of all time, as many outsiders are already keen to label them. All such debate and speculation remains the domain of the press, the blogosphere, and fans. As anyone with the benefit of meeting them will tell you, this is a humble group, with no room for egos. They love each other, and they love winning together. It is this work ethic, this willingness to die for each other, that the club’s sizable contingent brings to most successful national side in Spain’s history.

Born winners, sure; but just regular guys too, and above all great friends. Equally - as anyone in the know will tell you again - any talk of this game carrying extra pressure, as some have claimed, as they seek to cement their place in the pantheon of all-time great sides is wide of the mark. Nobody within the camp is interested in that nonsense. Winning remains the prime objective.

To what degree we can attribute all of this success to Guardiola is the subject of much debate. What should not be up for debate is that there is more to Guardiola than meets the public eye, particularly the Anglophone eye. Polite and erudite, he is also a man of strong will whose first move on taking the reins was to show Ronaldinho and midfield mainstay Deco the door.

Samuel Eto’o, a born winner but equally a prickly and at times difficult presence should have followed suit, but no club was willing to match Barcelona’s modest demands. He put up with Eto’o, who responded with one of his finest seasons there to date as the club swept all. He was still moved unceremoniously on as a makeweight that summer in Zlatan Ibrahimovic’s move from Inter.

It is often said that Barcelona lack a plan B, and it was with that in mind that the Swede was purchased, but that’s not exactly true either. If the incessant pressing game is the most noticeable imprint of Pep on an already gifted team, that does a disservice to his keen tactical mind and micro-managing skills. When needed, he has proven adept at tweaking matters to turn the tide in game, and has surprised us on occasion with his line-ups and starting positions. A motivator, intelligent, an idealist; but also a very pragmatic and shrewd observer.

It soon became clear that in coaching terms, Guardiola has the head of a man ten years senior on his shoulders. But then, even in his playing days, his colleagues likened him to a coach on the field. The burning question in every culé’s mind is just for how much longer he will stay, a question he has repeatedly refused to settle and on more than one occasion this season stoked.

To hear those within the club speak of their opponents shows their genuine respect. Xavi, on more than one occasion and all sincerity has spoken of being in awe at Paul Scholes. It’s unlikely now, as the body begins to fail, that Scholes will play any significant part in this final. But the praise and admiration for Ryan Giggs is only fractionally less effusive.

Lionel Messi singled out Wayne Rooney for praise this week saying "Rooney is a huge player, very skillful and very quick. He's a fully rounded player that can create danger at any time". When they speak of 2009, it is not to express sentiments of superiority to United but a gushing delight across the board of having played exceptionally well. At the same time, they also remember just how badly United rattled them before Eto’o struck against the run of play to put them in front.

Likewise, the players were keen to express their delight at facing another team who like to attack after qualifying from the semi-finals, and we shouldn’t see that as the veiled dig at their opponents in that round that some chose to read it as. When asked on Monday what scared him the most about United, Guardiola replied “Everything”. He wasn’t being flippant, either.

So, although the regard for Manchester United is genuine, there is also a sense that they may be a little off the mark, at least stylistically, in their conception. Specifically, it is as if the 2008 semi final between these teams - where Ferguson’s side set-out to strangle the life out of their opponents - never happened. Given the available personnel, such a catenaccio-style lockdown remains unlikely but what is also unlikely is that United will be quite so dazzled as they were in Rome.

Guardiola’s nascent employment of Messi in the false nine role caught them off guard and ensured it was a night to forget for Ferdinand, Carrick and Vidic who were at a loss as how to pick the double World Footballer of the Year up. Whatever they should expect, they should expect that a more defined stratagem will be in place tomorrow.

Many connected with Barcelona will be surprised to have seen Nani fall out of favour of late. From being their best player for vast swathes of the season, the feeling amongst people in Catalonia is that he should be complementing, not supplanted by, another player who they hold in high regard, the fit-again Antonio Valencia. United will not go out to spoil, that is for sure, but there is a disconnect in the minds of many aficionados here between their image of Manchester United and the sort of Manchester United we are likely to see in the final.

Much has been made of the disruption to Barcelona’s travel plans brought about by fears of a repeat of last season, when volcanic ash meant they had to make a grueling two day journey to Milan to take on Inter in a first leg that effectively sealed the tie. Not that anyone connected to the club ever sought to use that as an excuse. But this week, Xavi accepted that it had not been ideal and the club moved swiftly this time to avoid any complications.

There two ways of looking at this. Under Guardiola, Barcelona have made a point of traveling to away games at the latest possible time. Domestically, this means they fly off to away days the same day, which is not a problem given the amount of 8pm, 9pm and 10pm kick-offs in La Liga.

Sometimes, this caused problems of course; during the Spanish air-traffic controllers strike they arrived on the pitch at Osasuna a minute after the already delayed kick-off time. Guardiola has firm beliefs as to the benefits of this approach, however. He wants his players to be as comfortable as possible, and sees this as another tool towards maximising advantage. As meticulous as he is, the idea of an Italian style retiro, where the players are hauled off and holed up in a hotel two nights before games would be anathema.

So will these extra days spent in London be an advantage of a disadvantage? One school of thought holds that this will, in fact, have upset their routine and may take the players from their familiar comfort zone. Another holds that moving so decisively and swiftly to defuse the chances of anything going wrong was the right move, and that at any rate finals must involve a degree of upheaval inconsistent with their league-style preparations.

This writer’s thoughts are firmly in line with the latter. Besides, anyone following the photographed Twitter antics of Carles Puyol and Gerard Piqué at the Emirates yesterday would struggle to argue that these guys aren’t having fun.

On the field, the forward and midfield lines pick themselves. Question marks remain over the defensive configuration. It is a joy to see Eric Abidal back in action so soon after what initially was feared to be a potentially career-ending tumour. During Puyol’s long absences and Piqué’s erratic mid-season form, the Frenchman was a colossus, enjoying comfortably his best season at the club since moving from Lyon.

But doubts remain as to whether he’ll start. The consensus is that Mascherano will partner Piqué in the centre, with Puyol playing left back as he did in Rome two years ago. Sergio Busquets of course is more than capable of playing in the backline, but his centrality to the team and superior use of the ball means he is needed to play the anchoring role.

The mood of relaxed confidence in the camp was epitomised by what club president Sandro Rosell said today “The future of this team doesn't depend on one game. Whatever happens on Saturday, the season is already excellent." They will play to win; but also without fear and without underestimating their opponents in slightest.

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La Liga, última jornada: The relegation showdown that never was…

Don’t believe the hype.

 

 In another Spanish season where the title march was a procession, where Real Madrid came second in a one-horse race, where the top two shellacked all in sight, dropping a ridiculous total of 40 points (out of a possible total of 228) between them, we wanted something to look forward to.

Villarreal and Valencia had occupied the remaining Champions League berths since the 18th of the December; matchday 16, and the last before the winter break. Almería had been doomed for weeks.

But the relegation battle had proved intriguing. Getafe, who had been close to the Europa League spots in March, had slipped close to the abyss, along with Real Sociedad who’s strong first half showing was too a distant memory. Mallorca, preposterously, had followed them. One place for the drop to the Liga Adelante remained. Six clubs were at risk. The amount of possible permutations, rendered even more confusing by primacy of head-to-head records was simply mind-boggling. We expected something to look forward to as the final day’s relegation battle got underway.

Unfortunately nobody told Valencia’s Aritz Aduriz. A mere four minutes were on the clock at the Riazor when the former Mallorca forward slotted the ball home to put visiting Valencia into the lead. The stadium descended into a deathly silence.

And well it might. Deportivo might just be the most boring team in La Liga these past two seasons, a sad state of affairs for a team once famed for their swashbuckling brand of attacking football. A team synonymous with names like Diego Tristán, Bebeto, Djalminha, Roy Makaay, Albert Luque (stop sniggering, Geordies. He was once rather good; honest!), and Juan Carlos Valeron at his peak is now the team of… Riki. Once Super Depor, they are now just a super bore. They don’t concede much, that it is true- 10 teams who finished above them (including all three of next season’s Europa League qualifiers) have a poorer record in this regard. But they also can’t score to save their lives; literally so, as it proved on the night. 31 goals in 38 matches left them tied with Leo Messi, and 9 behind this season’s pichichi Cristiano Ronaldo. And it’s not just this season either; last year saw a marginally better return of 35, whereas the previous season’s respectable 7th finish saw a moderate 47. Frankly, watching Depor has become something of a chore, and this is why they’ll be plying their trade in the Liga Adelante next term.

And of course, it had to be Valencia. Valencia who had broken their hearts on the final day of the 1993/94 season, denying them a first La Liga title courtesy of Miroslav Djukic’s last gasp spot kick miss. They huffed, they puffed. They threw men forward with an abandon not seen in these parts for many a year. And then in the depths of injury time, Roberto Soldado- a curious absentee from this week’s national squad list- stepped up to administer the coup de grace. Valeron, the one remaining link from a happier time when the Galician club were one of Europe’s most feared sides slumped to the turf as the whistle went. The dream was over. And it was extinguished without so much as a whimper.

It is hard to see where Depor can go from here. The squad is light and distinctly lacking in quality. The money which enabled them to punch above their weight for so long has long dried up. A provincial side, hailing from a city of some 250,000 people, their rise had been meteoric; their fall protracted and painful. Their Galician rivals, Celta de Vigo have languished in the lower tier for several years now and it will be of no consolation to anyone in A Coruña to see that rivalry renewed. They join Hércules and the comically poor Almería in making the drop, with Real Betis and Rayo Vallecano confirmed to go up. Agonisingly, they might not even have a derby to look forward to; for in the final standings, Celta squeezed ahead of Valladolid to make the final promotion play-off place.

As for other highlights, well, there was Kun Aguero’s fantastic hat-trick against Mallorca in what now appears to have been his final game for Atlético de Madrid. Speaking of hat-tricks, Manolito Adebayor signed off from his loan tenure at Real Madrid with one of his own in an 8-1 pummeling of Almería. But of course the real story there was Cristiano Ronaldo notching up goals 39 and 40 of a phenomenal season to finally smash the record held by Hugo Sanchez and Telmo Zarra to the satisfaction of all outside the Marca editorial team. This takes the Portuguese up to preposterous total of of 66 goals in 63 league games since joining the meringue, and a barely believable 86 from 89 in all competitive matches.

Since the final curtain fell on this season’s domestic campaign we’ve been treated to flurry of comings and goings, and signs of plenty more to come. Real Madrid, having already secured the services of Nuri Sahin and Hamit Altintop the previous week, are reported to have secured the services of Benfica flyer Fábio Coentrão, if reports from Portugal’s A Bola are anything to go by. Across town, the story has been even more dramatic. On Monday, talisman Sergio Aguero handed in a transfer request and at this early stage a crosstown switch to el Real looks distinctly likely. Meanwhile, much to everyone’s expectations, goalkeeper David De Gea’s transfer to Manchester United for some €20m was confirmed late on Tuesday. Manager Quique Sanchez Flores exited the club, with erstwhile nemesis and Atleti icon turned persona non grata, Diego Forlán, surely set to follow.

Wednesday’s big news saw Real’s sporting director Jorge Valdano fired, no doubt the great pleasure of José Mourinho. Valdano was at pains to state the move was not of his choosing, “I am not the one who turned Real Madrid into a battlefield. All my efforts this season were directed toward restraint,” he continued. “It has been a long time since I have spoken personally to Mourinho. We greet each other politely, but he sought to deal with people other than me. My responsibilities with the first team were reduced. I did not feel comfortable in that situation.”

Florentino Perez summed the move up as being inevitable given the naked contempt that has existed between the Argentine World Cup winner and the club’s superstar manager. “We have decided to end the contractual relationship with Jorge Valdano. The experience of this season has shown the need for a new organisational structure giving authority to the coach and avoiding dysfunctions” he said, his use of the word ‘dysfunction’ echoing the sentiment of Mourinho in a concurrence that will surely hurt his long time lieutenant as he departs. “I do not want to hide the pain I feel at the exit of Jorge Valdano, but my feelings cannot be a reason for not taking the necessary decisions. There were two people filling a sporting role between whom there was no understanding. Ignoring the evidence is not practical for anyone.”

Recognising such nuanced matters as practicalities? Surely this must be a first for the construction chief.

It’s not just Quique who’ll be looking for a new job before the coming season begins. Sevilla’s Gregorio Manzano- who presided over a fine second half of the campaign after initially struggling to steady the ship having being appointed following the club’s poor start- was stoical in his response to not being offered the extension his efforts had surely merited. “They gave me no reason, and i didn’t ask for any either”, he said. “I don’t feel abandoned. This is how football goes”. Up in the Basque County, Real Sociedad parted ways with Martín Lasarte. His side had endured a brutal finish to the campaign but in truth, hovering around the Europa League spots had represented a false position for a newly promoted side who has barely even bothered to reinforce their ranks in the close season. Staying up was a commendable achievement, but now they will look for a new man to help them push on. Roberto Olabe, Miroslav Djukic and Miguel Angel Lotina- técnicos at relegated Almería, Hércules, and Depor respectively- were the others to be turfed out.

Team of the Season (4-3-3)

Goalkeeper: Carlos Kameni (Espanyol) Consistently excellent over several seasons, the Cameroon international was in fine form again and let’s face it, based on the amount of work he had to endure during his side’s wretched 2011 run, must shade it from the impeccable Victor Valdes.

Full Back: Dani Alves (Barcelona), Marcelo (Real Madrid)

Daniel Alves’ inclusion in this team is the ultimate no-brainer. He may rile opposition fans with his niggle and occasional bouts of theatricality, but nobody can doubt the man’s energy, drive and commitment. In a season where he contributed bags of assists, the fact that he goes into this weekend’s Champions League final as the player with the fourth most touches in the opposition’s half in that competition tells you that even for a Brazilian, he is much more than just a full back. On the opposite flank his compatriot Marcelo, once derided, must surely be the league’s most improved player over the last 18 months. Dropped back from the attacking berth he generally occupied under Manuel Pellegrini, he has added defensive awareness to his game. But he still retains his attacking instincts, and his profitable partnership with Cristiano Ronaldo was devastating throughout the season.

Central Defence: Ricardo Carvalho (Real Madrid), Eric Abidal (Barcelona)

Until suffering from a liver tumour in March, the Frenchman enjoyed comfortably his best season in a Barcelona shirt. Previously preferred at full back, his move to the heart of the defence compensated for Carles Puyol’s injury absence and Gerard Piqué flaky mid-season form. Far from a sympathy vote, this is a fair reflection of a wonderful campaign for the former Lyon man who may yet play against Manchester United on Saturday having recently been eased back into first team duties. Alongside him, it’s hard to look beyond Ricardo Carvalho. I must confess to having a soft spot for the Portuguese. A colleague once described his wiliness, saying that “100% of the time he’s breaking the rules in one way or another; 99% of the time he gets away with it”. It’s true that Mourinho’s trusty compatriot is as clever as they come, but his goal threat, know-how and all round uber-cool composure show that he’s lost little from the time where he made John Terry look like the best defender in the world to British eyes. How Chelsea could have done with him during their winter woes.

Midfield: Xavi (Barcelona), Borja Valero (Villarreal), Ivan Rakitic (Sevilla)

Xabi Alonso, Mesut Ozil and Andrés Iniesta were a hair’s breadth short of making the first selection, but one must recongise the excellence of the three who made the cut. On Xavi, no elaboration is necessary. Borja Valero was the man who made Villarreal tick, combining good defensive positioning and displaying a clever and competent range of passing to bring out the best in the likes of Nilmar and Giuseppe Rossi up front. Ivan Rakitic, singularly uninterested at Schalke, arrived at Sevilla for a modest sum in January, and turned the stuttering Andalusian club’s season around with a string of superb performances. Graceful, direct, cunning with his passes and with an eye for goal to boot, he was a joy to watch for a team who been all too laboured in all they did before he rolled into town.

Forwards: Lionel Messi (Barcelona), Giuseppe Rossi (Villarreal), Cristiano Ronaldo (Real Madrid) Just imagine for a moment.

You’re a defender, and in front of you see the see the world’s two best attackers, nominally wide but cutting in from the ‘wrong’ flank onto their favoured shooting feet. You can hack, pull and kick all you want. Messi, with that incredible low centre of gravity and admirable refusal to hit the turf will dance around you. Nine times out of ten, you’ll already know what he’s about to do; shift the ball inside to strike it home. You know, and yet you find yourself powerless to effect any change on the outcome. On the other side, any such physical defiance will carry no truck with the Portuguese. Probably, you’re not big or strong enough to match the ex-Manchester United man’s physicality. Try and you’ll most likely bounce off him. Get lucky, and he’s liable to sky the resulting fee-kick into the top corner, or slot home the penalty kick. Sir Alex Ferguson once described the effect a young Ryan Giggs had on opposing defenders as being akin to ‘twisted blood’. Double that. And then double it again for good measure.

In the middle of the pair, this year saw Giuseppe Rossi finally announce his arrival as a truly world class talent. He settled at Villarreal from day dot, and has improved steadily each coming season. Whether leading the line, dropping deep, or working the channels, his intelligence and movement make him a constant distraction to opposing backlines. With the clinical finishing he’s added to his game, the New Jersey-born Italy striker is sure to be a menace to the league’s defences for many more years to come.

Angel Di Maria has also blossomed into a world class talent this term, and Kun Aguero’s continued brilliance is guaranteed to earn him a move to whichever of the continents elite clubs he chooses this summer. Juan Mata’s emergence showed Valencia supporters that there is life after the two Davids last summer, and as for the one who remained in Spain, trekking up the coast to Barcelona, he might have endured his worse goal return in 7 years, but his willingness to embrace the team ethic has shown that there is more to his game than just goals. He still managed 18 of those, incidentally. Lastly, mention must surely go to Fernando Llorente whose emergence will leave Fernando Torres sweating over the chances of holding down his starting berth ahead of the Euros next year. And let’s not forget Roberto Soldado either.

This article originally appeared in Back Page Football 

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Exclusive: Jose Mourinho’s translated interview

If he (the referee) says that he’s sorry to UEFA, I will end my career today. Why can he not, I ask. Why? How can we have Ovrebo, Bussaca, Stark? Why? Every semi-final, it’s the same thing. We are speaking about a FANTASTIC football team. So why is what Obrevo did at Stamford Bridge two years ago necessary? Why what happened against Inter last year? You need a miracle to beat them.



Why not let us try and finish the tie when it could have gone on for three hours and ended 0-0? With our strategy we were not going to lose. So why did we? Maybe it’s because advertising Unicef gets you sympathy, maybe having [Spanish Football Federation chief) Villar on UEFA gets you sympathy, or some form of congratulations for being a great football team? I don't know why. All I can do is leave this question and wait to see if there'll be any response.

I should not have to be here, and it should not have been a red card. Let's see if somebody will explain why because I don't understand. A foul, yes, a free to Barcelona and then? Miraculously, a red. So, next week we'll play in Barcelona in the second leg. If we were talking about something difficult in sporting terms, after what happened tonight it's simply impossible. They have to get to final... and they will get to final. Full stop. Why does such a great team need something every time, something so obvious for all to see? Obervo, Bussaca, and now Stark...

Football is a game that should be played with the rules applied equally to all. And at the end, it should be won by the better team, the team that deserves it most. It would have been better today if we'd drawn nil-all, and if in the second leg Barca had beaten us, we would accepted it is 'fair-play'.

Why in a game that was so finely balanced at 0-0, did he [Stark] have to do what he did? Only the referee can answer that one; but he won’t. Last year, at Inter we had a miracle to to progress with 10 men, but another miracle this year simply wasn’t possible.

Yes; Real Madrid is now eliminated from the Champions League. We will go with total pride and respect. At times it disgusts me to live in such a world, to earn my living in this world that is football. We will to to the Camp Nou proudly; without Pepe, who did nothing, with Sergio Ramos, who did nothing wrong, and without a coach… And if, somehow, we go there and score and perhaps open this tie just a little bit- they’ll kill us all over again. We have no chance no matter what we do. Is it because they are better? Is that why they will win? Or…? They should by football, and football alone. So why not? It must taste different to win, and to win fairly.

I know what people felt about that that Chelsea game, what happened to Inter last year, and now I feel it with Madrid this year. It’s not hypocrisy, I am trying to be honest. It’s not a drama to me, I feel too sad and frustrated by what has happened. Tomorrow is another day. All that matters to me now is to go back home, where my wonderful family awaits me.

I’m sure they’re not bad people, so they must have this feeling in them; to know that win in this way has a bitter taste. We beat them last week in the Copa del Rey final. We know what it feels like to win properly, to celebrate with peace of mind, and this is why Real Madrid is a great team. Yes, I commented on Josep Guardiola’s words afterward freely, but the atmosphere was charged. And Guardiola in turn replied to me freely, with a little bit of politics. I believe that politics should not come into football. But today’s referee was something else!

I’ve won two Champions Leagues; one with Porto, the other with Inter. Both were won ON the field. We won both through had work, struggle and sweat. Guardiola is an exceptional manager, but if I was to win the Champions League the way that he won his, I would be embarrassed. And now, if he wins it this year, the win will be tainted by the scandal of the Bernabéu. I hope that maybe one year he will win a Champions League that will have been totally deserved. I thought that I could address him as ‘tu’… Well, now I see that I’m not allowed to. Okay then. I will call him ‘Señor Josep’. Well Señor Josep, I hope that one day you too will win a clean Champions League, not yet another one sullied by scandals.

This article originally appeared in Back Page Football

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The word from Spain: Entre dos clásicos

Round one draws to an end. The Bernabéu faithful roared. José Mourinho, as is his wont, chides those journalists who walked on his assistant the day before the game. But now that the dust has settled, what have we learned? And what does all this mean as we approach the bells for the second round?

As ever, it’s all in the eye of the beholder. Real were on a high, and this was entirely understandable. They might have conceded the league, but few doubted they had any chance anyway. “It’s practically impossible now” said Alvaro Arbeloa after the game. As you were, then. “When will I get to take on this lot with eleven men” is the best summation of Mourinho’s sentiments.

But the gap had been bridged- 5 games, and three long years since they stuffed their Catalan rivals en route to a second successive title. A painful sequence of defeats; one by the odd goal, two by a brace, and two utter chasings, but almost all characterised by being out thought, out fought and outplayed all over the field. And to do it have played almost 40 minutes a man down, coming from behind made it taste all the sweeter. The possession statistics certainly told one story, but possession isn’t always everything; even, sometimes, for Barcelona.........................

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La Liga – todo mal vuelve

When José Mourinho decided to pick a fight with Manolo Preciado back in September, who would have predicted that the gruff Sporting técnico would have the last laugh in deciding the destination of this year’s championship, destroying the longest undefeated home league managerial record in history in the process? Not many, is the answer; Joseph Sexton is back to tell us why La Liga really is done and dusted this this time.
 

 It had to happen. Nothing lasts forever. But what a ride it was. No other coach in the history of the sport could boast of such an achievement as that of of José Felix Mourinho; and it’s unlikely anyone else will. 150 home games. 0 defeats. From a 3-2 reversal exactly one month into his tenure at FC Porto on 23 February 2002, until Sporting Gijón rolled into the Bernabéu the day after April fool’s in 2011. 9 years, 1 months, and 10 days it took. And it was fitting that it was Manolo Preciado, the rugged, no-nonsense Sporting coach, who was in the opposite banquillo when the unthinkable occurred.

Read the full article here on Back Page Football