Ohhhhhh Fffffffffffffffffffffffootball!

Yesterday I made a slightly rash comment to provide something a little lighter as my next blog post. Little was I to know that the bloody English national football team were going to disgrace themselves against the mighty Croatia at the home of football. So, politics this is not, it’s far more serious than that.

So, Euro 2008 will be played in my current place of residence without the country of my birth actually taking part. In fact you could even stretch it a little and suggest that come June next year I will be one of the top English footballers in Austria. Anyway, why oh why have we failed once more? The manager? Yes he has a poor record, no pedigree to speak of, a fairly tenuous grasp of any tactics that don’t require throwing on 3 strikers in the last 15 minutes when you are already 3 goals down, and he looks a little bit like the fella who plays Ken Barlow on Coronation Street. But is it all his fault? Of course not, these are professional footballers we are talking about, paid millions a year because they are the best we have to offer. I would like to think that my mum could be in charge for a game or two and drag a performance out of them. So we can blame the players then, certainly they are the ones who are out there for 90 minutes failing to beat the opposition. And supposedly this is the best crop of players we have had for ages (I assume that whoever said that assumes we can play all three of our goalkeepers at once). So let’s blame the players then, they lack passion, they lack pride, they lack direction, and with Michael Owen displaying the qualities of porcelain china recently, they lack a goal scorer. I disagree, no matter what the press say, no matter what me and my mates say, ask anyone to pick the best 11 England players and the team would not change by much. Admittedly in my team anyone named Neville, or friends with anyone named Neville, would not be picked, but football has nothing to do with that.

So, if it ain’t the manager, and it ain’t the players, who is to blame? Rupert Bloody Murdoch, that’s who.

Ten years ago the premier league’s 20 clubs had 87 foreign born players between them, I know, I counted at the time for an essay I wrote. Today the top four teams in England have 76 foreign born players between them. Notice something?

I don’t blame the players for one second, nor am I trying to suggest that they are directly affecting the current national team. The players playing in the English National Team are good players, many of them could play for other national teams based on merit. But here is the problem.

10 years ago, and in fact way before that, successful British players often opted for a spell in a foreign league, lured no doubt by the warmer climates, the god like status afforded to them, and to a lesser degree, the cash on offer for a short contract. Glenn Hoddle, Gazza, Kevin Keegan, Ian Rush, Mark Hughes, Chris Waddle, Luther Blissett and many more all tried their hand abroad. With the notable exceptions of the four English players who have played for Real Madrid in the last 5 years, it is becoming increasingly rare for our players to leave the island. The reason is simple, the money on offer, the money that brings all the foreigners to play over here, is far better than in any other league in the world. Yes the foreign players who come to play in the premier league are taking places that English players could otherwise take, I understand and appreciate that fact, but the English players who do make it and rise through the ranks are arguably better players for it. The key is the experience of playing solely in the premier league is only beneficial to the foreigners.

Think about it. The premier league is often billed as the best league in the world. It isn’t, but it is the most exciting to watch because the game is played in a traditional, British manner. High tempo, tough tackling, very direct and lots of goals. For Spaniards and Italians who are used to more technical football, with a slower build up and more emphasis on technique, it must be quite a shock. But, if you are already blessed with great technique and tactical awareness, and then you learn to play in the Premier League, then you instantly become a more versatile and ultimately successful player. If however, you learn your trade in the youth team of an English top flight club, and stay there your entire career, every now and then you are going to get caught out and embarrassed.

The money in the premier league is astronomical, not just the wages of the players but the TV revenue, the merchandising, the ticket sales everything. And it is all down to Murdoch and BSKYB. From a fan’s point of view it is brilliant obviously, 5 or 6 games a week to watch, some of the best players in the world, but it is a case of style over substance where the national team is concerned.

So the solution? Haven’t got a clue to be honest. You could start by reducing the number of teams in the league to 18 instead of 20, introduce a quota of home grown players in the squads (The EU would stop that of course), restrict the number of games shown on TV, try imposing a lay whereby reserves teams have to be entirely composed of home grown players, or even make the Carling Cup a British Only cup, with no prospect of European football for the winner, but the prospect of some British players getting valuable first team experience.

Of course, the next problem is finding a home grown manager to manage the team….there aren’t many in the Premier League to choose from for similar reasons.

Sicko vs Sarko

Well, what can I say, it has been a while! My defence? None really, laziness maybe, lack of internet access in my new flat, too many recent trips abroad? No, think I will stick with laziness, it has got me a long way so far in a little over 25 years!

Ok, weird title this time I suppose, unless you have already worked it out of course in which case it is probably already looking a little mundane and old fashioned.

So, let’s start with Sicko, the documentary film about the US health system. I saw it a couple of weeks ago here in snowy Vienna, and on the whole I enjoyed it thoroughly. There are, however, one or two minor points I would like to make. Firstly, about an hour into the film, after the footage of the man sewing his own knee back together, and the story of the fella who lost his fingers in an accident and could only afford to have one put back on, the film heads over the water to Europe to do a little bit of compare and contrast. Now, obviously Mr Moore is allowed a little bit of artistic licence to exaggerate slightly to prove a point, I don’t have a problem with that, but to suggest that the NHS is some kind of medical Utopia is going a little bit too far in my book. Yes it is free, yes doctors do earn a pretty decent salary and yes medicines are relatively cheap when prescribed by a doctor. However, there was no mention of the waiting lists, or the waiting rooms in casualty for that matter, or the shortage of beds, the shortage of staff, or the Superbugs that seemingly render most visits to a hospital more dangerous than an auditioning to be a blind knife throwers assistant. Of course, to mention such things would somewhat take the gloss off the rosy picture he is trying to paint. And we wouldn’t want that in a documentary would we?

Then there is France, a country with a equally wonderful health system, where the staff speak better English than the fat American asking the questions, and where the state provides child care, lengthy maternity leave and someone who can cook you carrot soup of an evening should you desire. Why you would want carrot soup I’m not quite sure. Again, having lived in France I know that it is not quite as rosy as he makes out, but why let the truth get in the way of a good documentary! (Notice I haven’t even mentioned his little trip to Cuba) The problem for me is that what is obviously a very noble aim, i.e. to highlight the current problems with the Healthcare system, the whole thing lacks credibility due to his methods, and his selective use of the facts. Add to that that he doesn’t even mention the taxation levels in the UK or France which pay for the system and I left the cinema feeling a little bit let down. There wasn’t even any sensible alternative suggested. That brings me nicely onto the second part of today’s post, namely Monsieur Nicolas Sarkozy, Président de la République!

Now, I had the good/bad fortune to be in Paris last week. Good, because I love Paris. Bad, because it felt like the whole bloody country was on strike. In reality it wasn’t, only the train companies were striking (well there were some others but they didn’t really affect me at the time). The reason they are on strike is to do with pensions, and how long they will have to contribute to the state run scheme before retiring. For most people it is 40 years, but for the so-called “Special Regimes” it is 37,5 years. Sarkozy wants to make it 40.

The first thing I should point out is that one of the things I like most about France, apart from the food, the women, beaches, the wine, the pastis and the lifestyle, is the level of political engagement present in the average French person. As such, there is a very strong and deep rooted social movement that regularly leads to demonstrations, marches, and frequently strikes. I think it is brilliant that the people have so much interest and power, so much so in fact that the government is scared of the people. In the UK if the government said “right, from now on you all have to work 4 years longer, pay double the taxes and take less holiday” sure we would complain, and grumble, and threaten all sorts of things, but ultimately we would just get on with it. Not so in France. This has been going on for hundreds of years in France, and part of me hopes it will continue. At the same time, I understand that if it does continue it spells bad new for the country as a whole.

Strikes are a regular occurrence, but this one is a little bit different. Sarkozy won the election with a very clear message – France has to change in order to survive. At the time I likened the situation in France to that in the UK in the late 70s – high unemployment, social unrest, strong unions and protectionist policies that were crippling competition. Sarko said that this would stop, and he would push through the necessary reforms. So, he told us what he was going to do, and the French people said a fairly resounding “Oui”. Then he started to do it, and there was much waving of hands, a sharp intake of breath, and a fairly clear “Non”. And now, not only are the trains on strike, but every bugger else too. Judges, teachers, baggage handlers, post men, you name it, they are currently sitting at home with their feet up.

The question is how long will Sarko hold out? In 1995 Chirac lasted three weeks before giving in, if Sarkozy is serious about changing the country it could take a lot longer than that. Personally, I think he will compromise sooner rather than later, and lose a lot of credibility along the way. In the meantime, good luck to all my French friends!

Something lighter next time, I promise.

Au Revoir!