'Loyalty in Football? You're having a laugh' ('Sporting Chic' in the Sunday Guardian, October 24 2010)

While Wayne Rooney’s wife may forgive him for straying from his commitments, Manchester United fans may never. Rooney’s ‘I want to leave United’ press statements stirred a media frenzy that ended on Friday, cutting short, what could’ve possibly been the most entertaining few months in transfer season history.

The contract re-signing surprised everyone, coming hot on the heels of his very public disenchament with Ferguson and the club. In a move that shocked us all, this Friday, United announced that Wayne Rooney had renegotiated a five-year contract worth sixty million pounds with the club. In a week where managers across Europe were already relishing the prospect of acquiring Rooney on the cheap and bookies were already taking bets on which team was going to buy the player, not even the most optimistic of United fans or football pundits would have predicted or expected such an outcome to the Rooney – Sir Alex soap opera.

As speculation is laid to rest, we now wonder, whether it was all just an exercise in public relations genius? Or an attempt to overshadow all the bad press that has dogged Rooney since his predilection for 4 am public urination and escorts hit the headlines? An opportunity for United to cement their contract and investment in Rooney, so that, if and when the time for his departure does arise (again), United can expect his transfer to break all records in football history?

Despite initial rejoicing that their star striker was not leaving the club, the United fan jury verdict is still out. In the twenty-four hours since the club announced Rooney’s renewed contract, United and football fans alike have displayed outrage at his questionable loyalty to the side. While some fans are ecstatic that Rooney may potentially play out his days at Old Trafford like United legends Ryan Giggs and Paul Scholes, other fans believe if he felt as strongly as the criticisms he leveled against the club and it’s management, perhaps he should be leaving in January after all.

The truth is – when an integral part of any team moves on, there is collateral damage, be it their fans, old teammates, managers or the to-be-replaced starting XI player at the receiving end of a messy transfer. It’s a no-brainer, that no one player alone can carry an entire football team. However, the reality when it comes to the Thierry Henrys, Steven Gerrards, Andrei Shevchenkos or the Kakas of the world; is that it is much harder to see players go that consistently form the back-bone of your team.

When you’re a die-hard fan with an extreme obsession for your team and all things related, expected or unexpected news of an impending transfer of the biggest name or your favorite player is tough to stomach. Fans display a huge range of emotions – from disbelief, shock to disappointment and anger. I remember a teary-eyed day in 2006, when Robert Pirès played his last game at Arsenal, an equally emotional moment in the summer of 2007 when Thierry Henry was transferred to Barcelona (and I expect more water works when Cesc Fabregas leaves the Gunners next season).  Occasionally, there’s nothing like getting your own back, rewind to Arsenal ex-captain Patrick Vieira’s return to Highbury turf, playing for the opponent side in a Juventus shirt. In spectacular and fitting style, Pirès tackled a nervous Vieira and dispossessed him, eventually leading to Arsenal’s first goal against Juventus. Did I forget to mention the vindictiveness of fans with abandonment issues?

Perhaps that’s why the love for international football - once players are capped, they are barred from playing for any other national side, so you know they aren’t going anywhere. It’s a much safer bet for fans, one that virtually guarantees zero disappointment and no heartbreak. When it comes to domestic teams, the reality is player transfers are part and parcel of football. C’est la vie.

Transfer sagas, do however, play a significant role in identifying two significant trends amongst football fans: one, fans always stick behind their managers (at least when it’s a winning side, poor Roy Hodgson and floundering Liverpool aside) and second, that no one player is bigger then any team. Not even current Arsenal golden-boy Cesc Fabregas. One can only hope that when the inevitable happens, and he exchanges his Arsenal jersey for a Barcelona one, heart-broken Arsenal fans across the world will accept his departure with civility and a touch of class.

Off the pitch and in the public eye: Footballers sex lives make for brilliant reading ('Sporting Chic' for The Sunday Guardian, October 10 2010)

It’s inevitable. You hit the big time, these days before you’re even old enough to vote, you’re a football hero. Your name is on the back of every jersey sold and your face endorses every product or brand conceivable. So much money you don’t know what to do with it. Besides buy a ridiculous house, fill it with the craziest gadgets and make an appearance on MTV Cribs. And then you’re caught with your pants down. Literally.

Because what they didn’t tell you was – that with all the fame, sporting glory and money – also came the constant invasion, paparazzi and tabloids stalking your every move. Anything you touch is golden, which means; anything you do wrong is platinum.  One misstep, mistakes ordinary men and women make each day, and it’s a headline in every daily rag and legitimate newspaper across the world. Think Tiger Woods and a list of women far too long to mention, Rebecca Loos and David Beckham, Ashley Cole and his hairdresser or Peter Crouch and his escort.  Men cheat. Women cheat. It happens. Except when you’re playing in the number 10 shirt for your country, your business is everybody’s business. Without judging and I mean, morals aside – who are we to comment on what footballers do after hours? You’re not my elected representative to Parliament; you’re not even a new-age Yoga guru I look up to. But when your dalliances post-game time start affecting game time, goal scoring and my team… Then, suddenly it’s fair game.

Why does this seem to happen so often with English footballers, more certainly then with any other country? Part of the reason is that England is obsessed with gossip and scandal. It’s got to be one of the reasons why the most widely read papers throughout the United Kingdom are tabloids like the Sun and the Daily Mirror? This obsession with celebrity and their failings, ensures that the eagle-eye lens of every paparazzi photographer and every tabloid editor are looking for that incriminating picture of a drunk footballer tumbling out of a night club at 4 am with a not-his-WAG hanging off his arm.

In the last year alone, almost half of the English football teams starting XI have had a press story threaten their family and football lives. Ashley Cole. John Terry. Peter Crouch. Steven Gerrard. . Wayne Rooney. Explains their so-called World Cup campaign? Fabio Capello dropped John Terry from England captaincy when the story of his dalliance with teammate Wayne Bridge’s ex-wife broke. Wayne Bridge, of course, was the first to say, he would never play with John Terry ever again.

Under English law, a person who suspects that he is about to be defamed can obtain a super-injunction to block such stories coming out. Currently, three English footballers have been successfully granted super-injunctions, much to the chagrin of tabloids that were hoping to break stories, ruin families and weaken football teams. Wayne Rooney is a classic example. Coupled with stories of his preference for aging prostitutes (she was a grandmother) when he was sixteen, the newest rumors didn’t surprise anybody – least of all his wife. However, it’s the public spectacles that these affairs become that have the worst effect on families and team management alike. Since the story broke, Rooney’s form has been terrible. He was dropped for the biggest fixture in his football calendar – an away game against Everton (the team he has supported since he was a tot). Since then, his form hasn’t recovered and Manchester United hasn’t had a great game in a few weeks. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining – Rooney’s lack of form only means United’s lack of form. The Arsenal fan in me is pleased. Clearly, we’re not really fussed with what footballers get up to off the pitch. Let’s leave that to their WAGS. But when they can’t keep personal life drama separate from a game-winning performance, that’s when it becomes our problem too.            

The Tumultuous Life of a Football Fan ('Sporting Chic' in The Sunday Guardian, October 3 2010)

The tumultuous life of a football fan is just that. Tumultuous. Our lives are timed calendar-style precision – we’re happiest when the summer hiatus from the English Premier League, Spanish La Liga or Italian Serie A ends. And in August and September, when football leagues world over reconvene and bring back the frenzy.

Don’t get me wrong, June and July aren’t attempts to wean us away from our television sets and football teams. Every 2 years we’re blessed with football during those months (thank you World Cup and the European Championship). 

But when we’re not, all that gets fanatics through the trying period of zero goals and no gloating rights are the transfer window months of July and August. A bizarre, interim time that brings an air of expectation and excitement. 

Once a league kicks off for the year, most die-hard fans say goodbye to their weekends. We’re dismal in May when season title winners are crowned, losers are mocked and then, with fair warning, football goes away!

The start of a new season with newly traded players is a long awaited, much anticipated and traffic stopping event (ever tried to grab a cab after an Arsenal game at the Emirates Stadium? The traffic would put the CWG to shame).

It’s not just our weekends that disappear into a haze of cheering, jeering and gloating. Courtesy of the UEFA Champions League and time difference hell (European Standard Time), we’re stuck with sleepless nights midweek every fortnight. That guy in the next cubicle, passed out on his keyboard? Chances are he was up till the wee hours watching the game.

It’s debatable whether a fan’s excitement is over the return of football or the rivalries being revived. New season is a time for supporters of winning clubs to gloat; fans of a runners up club to hope and pray that their teams are fortified with new, stronger buys; and fans of newly promoted clubs to hope their team can last a season without being bumped back down to lower division leagues.

Nothing defines a football fan like team loyalty. Personally, I channel William Wallace’s Braveheart speech before every big Arsenal game. Think Cesc Fabregas and the Arsenal team in highland kit (and kilts?) charging forward at the Chelsea defense this Sunday at Stamford Bridge.

A quick introduction to the life of an Arsenal fan - we’re one of the most successful clubs in the world. We’re all - and only - about the beautiful style of football Arsenal plays. We’re purists. We’re not about the money, we’re not about the big stars – we believe in identifying and breeding talent and teamwork. We respect and worship our manager, Arsene Wenger. But we would prefer that you call him ‘the Professor.’ And I would prefer that you called the Gunners (as Arsenal is called) – the Invincible Gunners. 

In 2004, Arsenal pulled off a record breaking undefeated run to win the English Premier League. It’s a record that remains unmatched by any team and will likely go done in the history books: 49 games. Un-beaten. Despite a trophy drought since that exceptional run, Arsenal can pride themselves on revamping the team and selecting a dynamic group of young players, who work hard and gel well. There’s a reason why most neutral fans or fans of ‘the sport’ prefer to watch Arsenal play. It’s just the way we play.

Just like the rest of the rest of the world, India is a vast sea of customary United fans. Everywhere you look it’s a ManU supporter or a United bar. Manchester United is by far the world’s best-marketed sports property. Unfortunately, this explains why I can count Delhi’s Arsenal fans on my fingers and toes. Kudos to the growing band of Spurs fan – I know it’s blasphemy to celebrate growing support for our bitter North London rivals; but it’s a sign that things are finally changing.

Now, if I could just get Scotty to beam us down some Gunners and a long deserved, world class, quality goalkeeper...

Transfer Window Drama: Delight, despair and disappointment. (Unpublished)

My absolute favorite time of the year has got to be July and August, right before football leagues all over Europe and the rest of the world kick off for a new season. Two words: Transfer Window. It’s the time of the year where football clubs open up their coffers, astronomical budgets are revealed and players – young and old, talented or average, are stalked, cajoled, bartered and auctioned.



If you’re a football fan or unfortunate enough to be related to or dating one, then you would know that transfer season brings with it an air of excitement. Pre-season banter is pure speculation, constant rumour-mongering and rampant gossip. It's almost surprising that transfer window drama doesn't have its own version of trashy TV’s favourite reality show: The Real Housewives of the Premier League? Cash rich cougar-esque clubs skulking around for the newest and freshest faces or just one that will make them look good (or sell some football shirts). 



From bizarre UFO like sightings at airports (Maradona was spotted at Manchester airport and yes, he will be United’s new coach), to murmurings of unhappy families of expatriate football players (Mascherano’s surprise at learning Liverpool was particularly English, cold and constantly grey. What a shocker!), to emotional blackmail and particularly public displays to swing a transfer a certain way ala the Fabregas saga this summer (yes Puyol, I mean you and your conniving ‘Let’s pull a Barca shirt over his head’ tactics)
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It’s exactly like Diwali. Or Christmas. Or that birthday when you wanted a dog. You always know what you want but are almost afraid to hope for that young striker, fast midfielder or genius playmaker. And just like Christmas or even worse, our long awaited birthdays, the morning of it all brings – eternal disappointment and more often than not, a ‘why didn’t we just get a gift card?’ sentiment. 



As a hugely vocal and oft frustrated Arsenal fan, all I asked for Santa and Coach Wenger for this festive season was a quality goal keeper and more importantly, a voodoo remedy to ward off all our consistent injuries. And as is now a customary feeling for a Gunner, I woke up with that necessary defender and a new centre-back, but no sign of that goalkeeper I asked for. And five weeks into potentially, the most competitive season of the English Premier League in the last half-decade, Arsenal are without their biggest stars, captain or a sign of a striker. Same story, every season?