Goal of the Week

Here's a new feature to lighten things up.
Each week I'll try to post one great goal (where would we be without Youtube?). Here's a peach from my all-time favorite player, Robert Prosinecki. Utter absurdity...

16 March 1990
Crvena Zvezda 2 : Partizan 0
Stadion JNA






Many thanks to CrniGuja

Thoughts from the road

Perhaps it’s the sterile calm, or the steady blather of central heating that does it. Regardless, I tend to lose my head in hotel rooms, especially when alone. That is precisely what happened a couple weeks back, when, thirsty for football, I scheduled my days around the last bit of the Champions League group stage. Usually I would know better but it took a series of dour, pointless matches for me to discover anew the greatest farce in the modern game. No sane observer could have expected much from a slate boasting no matches likely to affect the outcome of the tournament. But, with my judgment skewed, I lay on the bed and watched a distant, delinquent cousin of the game that shone in Austria and Switzerland last summer.

The predictability and money-over-football subtext of Champions League are too obvious to merit much elaboration. It’s sufficient to take Zenit St. Petersburg’s masterpiece of indifference against Real Madrid as the perfect embodiment for the spirit pervading the whole spectacle. Walking away from the TV, I mourned the demise of the Intertoto Cup.

The pauper of football competitions, it was easy to ignore while alive, and vanished quietly, with few eulogies, last July. Although late to discover the tournament, I quickly came to love its purity and spirit of inclusiveness. I also admit to a perverse joy in the sheer exoticism of it; the tinier the clubs, the shabbier the grounds, the more mysterious the sponsorships, the more magnetic its hold over me.

I first encountered the Intertoto while flipping through channels in 2006. Not expecting to find any football so soon after the World Cup, I thrilled to see Maribor, an old favorite, battle Villareal, Champions League semifinalists from the previous year. Following a 2-1 defeat in Spain, Villareal attacked with flair, controlling the match flow and mastering the midfield space at Ljudski Vrt. Unsurprisingly, though, there was little space to be found in Maribor’s defending third. The Slovenian side committed to defending, and showed excellent organization at the rear. A Nihat goal on 85 minutes equalized for Villareal, but Alessio Tacchinardi’s second booking sseemed to have settled the match in favor of Maribor after 80 minutes. In fact the game had grown negative well before the Italian’s dismissal, and continued down that track, with Rodriquez and Forlan sent off in the dying minutes.

Aside from spells of wondrous movement from Villareal, this would seem to be a forgettable match; a classic case of football’s guerrilla tactic as an overmatched side draws the opponent into a barricade of 9-10 men, attempting to attack only on the break. Villareal’s frustration and cynicism are equally typical of teams subjected to this approach. Any football fan has seen matches and whole tournaments destroyed by such defensive tactics (large portions of Euro 2004 come to mind). What, then, could possibly be worthy of remembrance here (aside from Milan Rakic’s stunning, one-bounce free-kick in the first leg)?

What mattered to me was the fixture itself – there is simply a dearth of interesting, unfamiliar matchups in modern football. Any Serie B or Championship side could have “parked the bus” and frustrated Villareal, but Maribor presented a unique challenge. While Balkan clubs in European competition are generally overmatched, they cannot be dismissed as simply negative sides. The baseline level of footballing talent in these nations is too high, even with 11 unfamiliar names on the pitch, to justify that. Of course these teams rely on technical football, but not only out of desperation. Rather, as great Balkan sides showed in the past, a mix of ability and craft can raise the notion of a technical system, producing sides that win and please the eye (See Red Star Belgrade, 1990-91). Decades of such football force modern opponents to expect unusually adept attacking from an otherwise lowly club such as Maribor. Thus, Villareal suffered 1:2 and 1:1 results, rather than,say, 0:0, 0:1.

I fear that the combinations of teams found in the Intertoto Cup will not be seen again. Granted, epics such as Dinamo Tirana v. Varteks may still be possible via the Champions League and Europa League qualifying rounds. And of course, the true fetishist need only follow a poorer domestic league to watch this type of football on a regular basis. What I rue is the loss of the Intertoto’s third round, typically pitting middling clubs (often fallen from grace) from elite leagues against smaller, mysterious teams which evade generalization. The sense of novelty in these matches is a major deficiency of Champions League (much less the case for the UEFA Cup/Europa League). When Europe’s elites do play a relative unknown, the drama of the match usually is diffused by a group stage format which spreads a wafer-thin layer of significance over each tie.

In addition to its knockout format, the Intertoto uniquely crowned 11 winners per year, with the official title going to the team advancing farthest in UEFA Cup play. To me this seems precisely the type of play needed today. While intra-city and national rivalries still exist, the old derby spirit of football has largely been lost. Intrinsic to that spirit is the understanding that my team may not become champion of all champions, but it can be great, so long as it wins the derby. That is, to most of Europe, circumstances preclude the local club from scaling football’s greatest heights. But the old rivalries and Intertoto Cup both presented realistic, affirming possibilities. Being one of 11 Intertoto winners, who were then tossed into a heap of teams in the UEFA Cup’s 2nd qualifying round, was not the ultimate reward in football. It was, rather a grounded one.

Recent history in Eastern Europe has molded cultures deeply rooted in reality. They are, in general, under no illusion of seriously challenging the Barcelonas or Manchesters of the world. Are these clubs and their fans then resigned to being European afterthoughts? That certainly seems to be the case every year at this time, as the Champions League’s usual suspects once again prepare to meet. It is not that I expect small clubs to invade that party each year. In fact, I acknowledge some wisdom in structuring the tournament in favor of stronger clubs. However, the skill of these clubs is of little worth unless it gets displayed (in games rather than adverts). Finding a solution to Champions League’s grinding, predictable play is not my intention here, though slick logos and pompous music have certainly failed on that front.

Here I remember a competition that offered equal tastes of glory and mediocrity; a mirror of life itself for fans in desolate, poor or simply unlucky areas. For indeed, successes are rarely as absolute as a Champions League title. The Intertoto Cup occupied a middle ground, with smaller heights to climb, especially for those beginning the climb from a ditch. Most importantly, it added more interesting football to our lives.

That is something I spend most of my time searching for. My love of this game will drive me to watch the upcoming UEFA Matches (though Fabregas’ and Totti’s injuries may hamper the most intriguing Champions League tie; The Uefa Cup looks enticing, however). I also accept the role that economics have played in forming modern football, though I believe this influence can be tempered. Regardless, the Intertoto Cup seemed a rare haven from such forces. With many winners of small prizes, it was more suited to the modern world of nuance than other, Olympian battles for supremacy in football. How fitting that such a humble, flawed event, borne of a desire to sustain gambling revenues, died for its very lack of revenue, and for its earthy imperfection.

Frankly, Mr. Shankly

"Some people think that football is a matter of life and death. I can assure them that it is much more important than that." Whatever we make of Bill Shankly's quote, it is clear that football holds an oddly prominent place in the lives of individuals and nations. The blurry border of football and politics was most porous in Communist Eastern Europe and Russia, and this period will provide much of the material for my blog.
The title, for instance, is taken from newspaper headlines after Yugoslavia defeated The USSR 3:1 at the 1952 Helsinki games. Such anecdotes abound, and Jonathan Wilson's excellent "Behind the Curtain: Travels in Eastern European Football" is an ideal primer on the subject. Like Wilson, I favor the cerebral side of the game, and hold an unusual affection for technical fluency over sheer athletic ability (playing one's strengths, I suppose). For that reason, I plan to post occasional tactical analyses, in addition to a litany of other items geared for football obsessives, preferably not fanboys. All are welcome, though. Do come again.