Being a rugby man, the whole experience is totally alien. I mean, the
idea of a player doing pre-season with his team, only to promptly
disappear to another once the season has started, seems like madness.
No, it is madness. But it’s great to watch.
On the inside, emotion plays a significant role in elite sport. After a while, however, it does slip behind ability, work ethic, culture and, put simply, results. That said, sports fans – matchday volume and atmosphere aside – can do little to really affect the performance of their team. So, in a sense, emotion is what they have to give – and the transfer windows seem to evoke so much passion and opinion from the ticket-buyers that they become a dramatic entity all of their own.
Rarely have I received so much in response to a tweet than to one I sent out referencing Luis Suárez wanting to leave Liverpool. My followers, as a rule, are not football people, but they all seemed ready to pile in with strong views on matters football. Sport has always been political, but football in this country arguably creates more conversation than even the Government itself.
I’ll be honest, I’m not massively bothered who goes where – but the episodes that have interested me are those revolving around Leighton Baines and Gareth Bale.
At the time of writing, neither has been given the green light to leave Everton and Tottenham respectively, but they are reportedly behaving in vastly different manners.
Baines has been committed, professional and has kept quiet; despite being on the verge of a monster move to the world’s biggest club, he has been grateful and modest.
Bale, according to his manager, has stopped speaking and has picked up a knock just serious enough to render him unavailable for the club at which he shot to global fame. He wants to go. As, I imagine, does Baines – but they seem to be operating on different behavioural planes.
I dislike the old ‘football v rugby’ argument because they are too different to compare, but these mini-soap operas at transfer time transcend sport. The huge profile of these footballers dictates that their behaviour is more visible than, say, a rugby player during a change of club. This means that, whether they like it or not, they have a responsibility to behave themselves.
Some see it and, naturally, some don’t. But that applies to all walks of life. We just know these guys better.
When a dog is naughty and tempestuous, we blame the owner. When a kid is involved, we blame the parents. To that end, I think the agents need to take more responsibility when it comes to their players’ reactions to interest from elsewhere – as, perhaps here more than anywhere, lustful self-interest and the evaporation of previously proclaimed loyalty reveal so much about a bloke, never mind what he’s like at knocking a cross in.
I love transfer time, but I’d love it even more if everyone acted like old Bainesy. Then again, what would that leave us to argue about?
No, it is madness. But it’s great to watch.
On the inside, emotion plays a significant role in elite sport. After a while, however, it does slip behind ability, work ethic, culture and, put simply, results. That said, sports fans – matchday volume and atmosphere aside – can do little to really affect the performance of their team. So, in a sense, emotion is what they have to give – and the transfer windows seem to evoke so much passion and opinion from the ticket-buyers that they become a dramatic entity all of their own.
Rarely have I received so much in response to a tweet than to one I sent out referencing Luis Suárez wanting to leave Liverpool. My followers, as a rule, are not football people, but they all seemed ready to pile in with strong views on matters football. Sport has always been political, but football in this country arguably creates more conversation than even the Government itself.
I’ll be honest, I’m not massively bothered who goes where – but the episodes that have interested me are those revolving around Leighton Baines and Gareth Bale.
At the time of writing, neither has been given the green light to leave Everton and Tottenham respectively, but they are reportedly behaving in vastly different manners.
Baines has been committed, professional and has kept quiet; despite being on the verge of a monster move to the world’s biggest club, he has been grateful and modest.
Bale, according to his manager, has stopped speaking and has picked up a knock just serious enough to render him unavailable for the club at which he shot to global fame. He wants to go. As, I imagine, does Baines – but they seem to be operating on different behavioural planes.
I dislike the old ‘football v rugby’ argument because they are too different to compare, but these mini-soap operas at transfer time transcend sport. The huge profile of these footballers dictates that their behaviour is more visible than, say, a rugby player during a change of club. This means that, whether they like it or not, they have a responsibility to behave themselves.
Some see it and, naturally, some don’t. But that applies to all walks of life. We just know these guys better.
When a dog is naughty and tempestuous, we blame the owner. When a kid is involved, we blame the parents. To that end, I think the agents need to take more responsibility when it comes to their players’ reactions to interest from elsewhere – as, perhaps here more than anywhere, lustful self-interest and the evaporation of previously proclaimed loyalty reveal so much about a bloke, never mind what he’s like at knocking a cross in.
I love transfer time, but I’d love it even more if everyone acted like old Bainesy. Then again, what would that leave us to argue about?
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