Monday, May 7, 2007

Carlos Tevez

There's only one Carlos Tevez. This was the phrase echoing through out Upton Park last Saturday 05/05/2007. Carlitos Tevez was recently awarded the Hammer of Year award with a whopping 84.5% of the votes. Tevez in his short span at West Ham has become a folk hero. He has single handedly propelled West Ham's resurgence.

To anyone who has watched Tevez play - it becomes clear from minute one that he is an absolute pitbull. His tenacity and never say die attitude along with his mesmeric ball control have made him a hero in under 3 months at Upton Park in London.

His trickery earned him a free kick, by the Bolton D. He stood over the ball and curled the free kick above the wall into the top corner of the net. He celebrated wildly by running to the substitutes bench. His second goal was simple tap in, courtesy of Lois Boa Morte, simple - but deadly and accurate. He then created a chance, by crossing the ball for Noble to volley it into the back of the net. One thing about Carlitos is his gigantic heart. He gives it all. He was voted South American player of the year 3 times in a row - and now England knows exactly why. His speed, vision and finishing combined with his free-kicks is potent. During his time @ Boca, he won it all. He then transferred to Corinthians - in Brazil. The first time an Argentine had ever played in Brazil. That year Corinthians won their first Championship with Tevez spearheading the attack. He carved a story like never before. For the first-time ever, the best player in Brazil was an Argentine. Joga Bonito indeed but by an Argentine.

He now has the same effect at his third club. But now he's leading the way for survival. It took Tevez a little over 5 months to adjust to the pace and style of the English Premiership, not to forget language and cultural differences. But now under Alan Curbishley, he has been played in his right role. He has the freedom to roam - and even when he doesn't score, its hard not to notice him as he's creating the chances. A player that has an influence on a team across 2 different continents is something special. A player absolutely adored by his fans when in Brazil and now in London. Messi might be the next Maradona, but as Maradona once said "Tevez is Argentinian prophet for the 21st century".

This kid has the world at his feet. He has great finishing ability. His pace is fantastic only second to that of Messi. He dead ball skills are dangerous as he showcased with a sublime free kick. Copa America 2007 - Carlitos Tevez will be a revelation once again.

Thursday, May 3, 2007

Riquelme

What compels a player to scorn at his manager? What drives him to rebel? What makes him a legend in the eyes of everyone who follow football? What makes him an idol in the eyes of everyone at the El Madrigal? Is it his vision? Is it his sublime passing skills? Is it a fleeting thought that slices a defense open? Is it a dead ball that makes it to the back of the net - or a dead ball thats almost impossible to defend against? Who is this lazy magician?

An introvert, slow in the eyes of English critics, glorious in the eyes of some, master tactician in the eyes of others. His pace maybe slow compared to other midfielders. He recently claimed he doesn't care about Villarreal anymore, and is happy to be back home @ Boca Juniors - adorning the infamous but legendary #10 jersey.

"Riquelme if he played in Brazil or was more open to marketing - would have been called Riquelminho, and would've been #1" - Jose Pekerman.

History will be written, yet again. Wait and see. -- February 23, 2007

And now history is close to being re-written. Allegedly Alfio 'Coco' Basile the coach of the Argentine National Team has been in touch with Riquelme, who not too surprisingly wants to come back to the national team for the Copa America. He has been in scintillating form this season for Boca Juniors. A few goals of his are reminiscent of his original playing days at Boca followed by his celebration - hands to his ears running on the side of the pitch.

Many don't understand Riquelme or his game. He is equally hated and loved. The number 10 shirt is a huge responsibility and I believe after Maradona, Riquelme is the only one who has upheld the shirt - to an extent. Where Ortega failed, Riquelme shone. Where Aimar failed Riquelme outclassed. Where D'Allesandro failed, Riquelme accomplished. Yet he doesn't have the pace of the mentioned attacking midfielders. What he does do is majestically dictate play. He is Zinedine Zidane. When players don't know what to do with the ball - they simple give the ball to Riquelme, and the lazy magician conjures something up. He is the fulcrum, the axis to a team and cannot play any supporting roles.

His comeback if it does happen - Riquelme might be the only other #10 from Boca to win a major title with Argentina - The Copa America 2007.

Tuesday, May 1, 2007

Yesterdays - Edit

This is an old one I wrote when I was 16 1/2 years old. God, I had talent back then. Whatever happened to me now?

Look at thyself
And ask,
'Is it worthwhile though'
To Imbibe
Thyself in Melancholy?
If thy's faithful COMPANION -
Is solitude
Grief like the rest of thy's -
Emotions needs -
Sometimes a rest;
'Cause life's description is -
Of fraility
So, bid farewell to YESTERDAYS.

My First

Growing up in B'lore, I discovered the sport of football. Everyone in India always played the pseudo national sport - cricket. So when I first got a taste of the 'beautiful game' I was overwhelmed. I was 7, it was 1986 Fifa World Cup - Mexico. My parents had one television - color. The games were shown live in India, a little after midnight due to the time difference. I knew one player, one star, one genius whose talent still remains unmatched today - Diego Armando Maradona. Him dribbling past the entire English defense, and mimicking the same against Belgium left me speechless. I was fascinated. Fast forward to the end of the cup, Maradona proudly raising the World Cup - no one ever in history had so much influence on a single World Cup. One might say - Diego single handedly won the World Cup by himself.

Playing football on the streets bare feet, is how I learned. The sweat, dirt, tar pebbles of the road embedded into my sole didn't hinder me. Calouses, sore heels didn't weigh me down. I was still in search of the elusive - first goal. I was 7, and I played with kids of varied ages from 7 - 12. This made the competition a little harsh. It was never too easy going up against a 12 year old. I lacked the speed, the endurance and the strength. I was easily thrown off the ball, lost possession far too easily and panicked in front of goal - which was 2 flower pots 10 feet apart. As I kept playing all I could dream about was this magnificent sport. I envisioned scoring my first goal, celebrating. It was not to be for a short time. I kept playing, kept getting better. Back at home everyday after school I kicked the ball onto a wall and practiced control.

2 months in - we organized a game a fine Saturday evening. By this time I had pleaded for my parents to buy me cleats (studs) - shoes that soccer players wear. Proudly I graced the field that evening. Summers in India were brutal. The sun hadn’t completely set and the dust laden air kicked up by kids who had already played made it only worse. The smell of kerosene run by auto rickshaws faintly filled the air. In a distance on the field, a herder with his only cow looked on. People on the street walked in a hurry midst the traffic. Some kids still not quite as lucky as me, came up to me to check out my shoes, commented on how good it was, wished that they had the same shoes. Still something inside me - made me feel a little undeserved. There were kids still playing without shoes, who were better than me, faster than me and generally more skilled. The game started and I always played midfield. I was better, more confident on the ball. Even though I wasn't fast enough I played, I fought for the ball, my 'never say die' attitude didn't go unnoticed. I was a passer of the ball. I didn't hog the spotlight, didn't try to take on defenders one on one. All this maturity at my age then, now that I reminisce is astounding to me.

Soon there was break, I passed the ball to a guy upfront, who crossed the ball across the face of goal. I somehow managed to get there at the right moment. Rest is history. The ball cleared the goal line. I was ecstatic. Sure it wasn't the prettiest goal, but I was there to chest the ball barely over the goal line. A classic poacher never complains about the lack of beauty of the goal, but I wasn't a poacher, I was a midfielder who started and ended the play.

That’s that.

Monday, April 30, 2007

Yes really ...

Fueled by fleeting thoughts of motivation,
Nurtured by the warm rush of comfort,
I tread on -
Drifting between thoughts of reality and has beens,
Silently comtemplating the what ifs
I tread on -
Effortlessly surveying my surroundings,
Casually observing my abundant thoughts
I tread on -
Quicky brushing aside drowsiness,
Immersing myself into splitting sunlight
I tread on -
Longing for that one truth
Patiently reviving oneself
Renewing the fire within
I strive -
I tread on.