29 April 2010

Something like love

By Dr3


Talking about Jose Mourinho is like talking about love. Everybody thinks they have a grasp of it, everyone can articulate its essence, everyone can postulate as to why it does or doesn’t exist, and everyone knows what the ‘real’ version is. Like love though, Jose can be the source of great adoration, and simultaneously the source of unwavering disgust. Unsurprisingly then, the love that people have for Mourinho and their struggles with coping with the undulating landscape of that relationship (first we bash him, then we canonize him), repeats its redundant self from achievement to achievement in a career that continues to grow.

When Inter were outfoxed by AS Bari (by drawing), Ventura was hailed as the ‘real’ Special One. When Inter were held by Napoli, Mazzarri was re-anointed as the ‘real’ “Special One”. We fast-forward the clock and Inter defeat Chelsea, and suddenly he is no longer the inept novice that we were growing tired of reading about. No longer is he just a good “communicator” (Moggi’s heavenly perspective), nor was he just a coach fortunate at having huge financial backing. Suddenly the lovers reconcile, and the once seemingly haphazard dimwit, is a footballing genius, and the masterful lover we never had.

It will always amaze me how much I’m forced to use the word fickle when listening to and/or reading the latest ramblings of supposed ‘expert’ analysts. How can a man you believe to be very calculated in creating a siege mentality for ALL of his teams, be the same man that you believe to be some tyrannical madman infuriating opponents and babbling incoherently in attempt to simply inflate his ego?

In the latest twist of the Jose romance, he again proved that his stroke was in fact the Casanova stroke. From the triumph at San Siro against the “orgasmic”, “never seen before”, “invincible” Barcelona, to the defensive displays at the “Catalunian War” (04/2010 - 04/2010), there was a distinct mundane feeling of the said redundancy. Jose having recently been told by one of his lovers that his teams display against Roma was proof positive that he/they, would be totally outclassed by the arriving Catalan diving team football club, was victorious and the hymns re-emerged; it felt like the very first time.

Grande Inter: - Nobody is bigger than the club; sorry Jose



Beyond the tactician though, a lot of praise must be given to the Inter players. Despite being reduced to ten men for the lion share of the match against the expansive world champions, Inter were able to restrict and contain them with sometimes consummate ease. The verve, courage and impact of the new additions to the Mancini-era Nerazzurri was self evident, and the players themselves represent footballing enigmas. On the one hand they were not good enough and were all unceremoniously (except Milito/Motta) shown the exit from their respective clubs, yet they represent for this team the very essence of the cliché ‘playing with your heart on your sleeve’. Just how Bayern could allow Lucio to leave, or why anyone would sell Sneijder should be Monk’s next investigation. Unlike most hymnists I won’t pretend to be versed in every tactical nuance (insert ZonalMarking, I’m absolutely certain that there is not a single coaching badge in his repertoire, belief is NOT knowledge), and every minute detail, I will simply say well done to Inter for a victory for the Serie A, for the “other way of playing football”, and a victory for respecting your opponents.

Classless Catalans/fans:



Now even though I will be gracious enough in "defeat" not to ‘gloat’, I definitely will share a thought for the classless ‘champions’ and their followers. Not to be too sardonic but after galvanizing a victim complex from their followers due to Milito’s goal that was 95,000 yards offside, as well as Sneijder’s Van Damme impression on Dani Alves (which left him cripple and toothless for life by the way), there was a muted environment regarding their very own offside goal, as well as Messi’s second attempt at Maicon’s life, not to mention Sergi “peek-a- boo” Busquets. I will stop myself getting carried away with the supposed divine integrity an organization and its players should have, but don’t go crying travesty if you’re not even willing to admit when the breeze blew your way (hair fluttering and all, something that Inter are accused of; wrongfully in my opinion, doing in the Serie A). Did I mention, Victor Valdez trying to manhandle Jose Mourinho for going to celebrate with Inter fans?Or the sprinklers being turned on ONLY on the half that Inter were celebrating on? Or the failure of the police in removing fans and their scare tactics (firecrackers until 3:30a.m)? Let’s leave the classlessness to those of a winning culture based on something that isn’t football at all; please?




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