Ciao Mister

A year and a half ago, Real Zaragoza had a foot and a half in the grave, definitely not better known as Primera División RFEF (despite the name, that’s the Spanish third tier of football). What was even worse was the fact that the team most often looked like a geriatric going up against Conor McGregor. Not an appealing prospect for any manager, really. So it should say something that JIM not only arrived, but that he came through. He inherited 13 points after 18 games, and nearly tripled that haul, adding another 37 points in the remaining 24 games, in the process not just securing Zaragoza’s season but also assuring the club’s continued survival.

While not exactly a glorious season ending, that type of action tends to be remembered. As it should. His first and last full season in charge was less of a rollercoaster and a trip down a hillside in a shopping cart, the dangers always present and terrifyingly real. After the world record-equalling nine games drawn in a row, we found out supreme stability can also be a safety hazard. Once again, he rode out the storm and got us back to shore, safely. And now, he is being let go, the reason (new owners) not as surprising as the timing (the first time a manager leaves between seasons since Natxo Gonzalez jumped ship six years ago).

All this is mostly to say, thanks, JIM. And yet:

Ciao, míster. You’re only here ’til the next one arrives.

Whelp, that was quick, if not entirely unexpected. No, I’m obviously not referring to this blog being revived after nearly exactly two years in the cold. No: Thanks to a 95th minute equaliser by Tenerife, Idiakez got the sack. And for once, the Real Zaragoza board seems to have acted quickly and decisively (if you aren’t in the camp that clamoured for his head weeks ago). If Idiakez’ reportedly passive behaviour on the bench tonight is anything to go by, even the win – owing to a penalty goal in the final minutes of the game – might not have sufficed to save his skin

Ever since the cup win against Deportivo, Real Zaragoza have not progressed much, and even then, couldn’t some of the credit of that victory be given to players wanting to show their ex-coach Natxo Gonzalez that he made a mistake?

Well, that same word could be used to describe Idiakez’ tenure. Now, I’m normally the type to preach patience when it comes to football, and would claim that long-term thinking trumps short-term. But in this case, I wasn’t even on the fence. Idiakez has to go. In my humble opinion. Baffling substitutions, or baffling unwillingness to use them have been the least of Real Zaragoza’s problems the last few months. And any positives (the Depor win, Alberto Soro’s emergemce) can hardly be attributed to Idiakez.

There are rumours there’s a replacement lined up. Fingers crossed it’s not the return of Leo Franco.

Ciao Mister. You’re only here ’til the next one arrives.

Not that it has much relevance to Real Zaragoza, but the main talking point of footballing Europe was Allardyce getting the sack (which is the topic from which this blog derives it name, remember). An enormous amount has been written about it, for example, the one from The Guardian, the pitying one, the funny one,  and the one that came closest to making me feel sorry for him (but only almost).

I haven’t really got anything to add, except my own insignificant thoughts. I barely knew Allardyce’s previous achievements when he was appointed England manager, and I knew nothing about his possible implication in shady transfer practices. Perhaps that is why, as soon as I read the Daily Telegraph’s article, I felt no sympathy for the man. Of course he had to go, that seemed to me the only option from the very first minute. Like someone said, why would he want £400,000 when he would reportedly earn 3 million pounds a year? If the England players were criticised for having “lost touch” with the average Joe for listening to music while getting of their transport, how does Big Sam’s actions look? In the words of Iain Mackintosh on ESPN, “If this had occurred several years into his reign, when complacency might have set in, it would be more understandable.” Now he just appears to be greedy. Again, the words of Mackintosh: “Allardyce wanted to be remembered as a football legend, the man who restored the Three Lions’ pride.” If anything, he continued the proud growing tradition of English footballing failure, but I guess the country won’t pride itself on an Brit doing a better job of that than any of the foreigners.

I haven’t even given a thought to who will succeed Allardyce. I feel like there’s just no point. My gut, which incidentally, knows nothing about football, tells me the FA has sacrificed the national team in focussing on promoting the Premier League. There doesn’t seem to be an actual plan in place, or at least one that isn’t simply full of platitudes. It just seems whatever happens, it just makes Sven’s reign look even better.

Ciao Sam.

​Is there a God? Is there a meaning to our insignificant time on this one planet in a universe of billions? Does other intelligent life exist, and is there a trick to finding the perfectly ripe avocado? All such questions pale in comparison to the one I’ve been secretly carrying inside for over a decade now, always wondering if it’s so obvious and everyone already knows, never asking for fear of embarrassment. Today, I dare to take that step.  Today is the day I finally ask: Why do male professional footballers celebrate goals by taking their shirts off? 

In school, I used to have this friend who would, at any and every given opportunity, take off his shirt. If the weather wasn’t hot enough to provide an excuse, he would plead in need of tanning, and if it was cloudy, or winter, then he would want to show off some bruise or mark on his back. Either way, it was never surprising to behold his naked torso, and I always held the suspicion that he, in a very naïve, young-teenager-kind of way, thought it somehow would impress the girls in the school (though, despite many ambitious claims on his part, I never truly could confirm that this plan ever worked). If he lacked technical, mental and physical ability to succeed as a footballer, at least he had that exhibitionist characteristic I decidedly lacked. 

Maybe that’s why I have trouble understanding goalscorers who rip their shirts off even before the ref has awarded the goal. Who are they trying to impress? What are they trying to accomplish? Don’t they understand that, in the age of personal brands, being unique is what’s lucrative and/or successful, and that Balotelli has held a trademark for the naked upper torso celebration ever since his Hulk pose? They’re not special, or even more (or less) muscular than any other footballer out there. And they haven’t got more chest hair than Giggs.  Doing it as a protest against an immoral shirt sponsor is a thought that I’ll bet hasn’t ever entered their minds (Frederick Kanouté is the exception to the rule, here). Though it certainly entered the sponsors’ minds, which I’m guessing is why it’s now a bookable offence (in addition to, or under the guise of the time-wasting aspect, pick according to conspiracy theory-proneness). Getting your sweat-drenched shirt off at full pace isn’t even a very simple thing to do, and definitely much too elaborate to be pure instinct. Here I’m judging by what an incompetent mess I become when simply trying to take off a sweater. 

So why, then, do they do it? Have these young, handsome fellows, or their brains, connected a feeling of ecstasy so closely to a state of undress? Have they simply mixed up the kinds of ‘scoring’ they want to do? Do they wish to ensure themselves and the spectators of their masculinity, before having at least a handful of fit, panting and screaming young men piled closely on top them? Or has it become a self-perpetuating cycle, where kids grow up seeing their idols do it, then replicate the behaviour only for new copycat kids to feel ‘inspired’? Are they trying to impress that girl from school they fancied years ago?

As I missed my opportunity at becoming an elite footballer at age 12, after, at the end of a joyous summer, deciding that also spending transfer money on indoor football shoes would remove important funds from my candy-and-video games budget, I may never know the reason for this phenomenon. But I secretly still have hope the one day, on a muddy football pitch somewhere, with aging people even less agile than me, I will score a screamer that will awaken the shirt-lifting reaction in me. And then, finally, I will know the answer to one of universe’s greatest mysteries. 

Tonight, Real Zaragoza enters the cup competition. And again, we’ll hear the old debate on whether or not it’s worth placing any focus on the domestic cup. Personally, I think there are a few reason why Luis Milla should try to go as far as he can in this competition.

1. Rotation. With 21 players in the first team, Real Zaragoza doesn’t have a large squad. Many will feature throughout the season, but with Zaragoza’s aims of finishing high up in the table, they all need to be match fit and aware of how Milla want them to play. The best way to gel  as a team is to play games, obviously, and with cup matches such as the one tonight, the rest of the squad can get some real match practice. In addition to that, if the back-up players perform well, the first eleven will have to step-up their game or risk losing their spot. Which benefits the whole team.
2. Harmony. Again, Zaragoza hasn’t got a large squad, but not everyone gets to play on the weekends. Which is what they all, deep down, really want. Apart from a handful of players in the world, not playing makes a player unhappy. Unhappiness is not good for a team. The cup, as mentioned above, is a stepping stone into the first team for the back-up players. Giving them some pitch time in the cup will make them and the team happy – especially with a win, confidence will be boosted.
3. Tradition. 1994. 2001. 2004. Do those numbers mean anything to you? If you’re a zaragocista, they should. Those are the years during the last two decades (plus some years) when Real Zaragoza have won the Copa del Rey. And then there are some years when the club lost the final, too. The thing is, Real Zaragoza is a cup-team. That’s what we do. That’s why we don’t go out of this quietly. So let’s go on and beat Valladolid, and then make some Primera-teams upset in the following rounds.

Luis Milla, Cani and Zapater got off to a flying start to the season yesterday evening. With the first game of the season to be played on a Monday, only 14.900 spectators showed up, a number that will hopefully increase with more traditional match times.

Ángel seemed to be suspiciously close to an offside position when the pass was played to his first goal, but since I mainly follow Zaragocistas, I didn’t hear any complaints. Let’s just remember though, things could well have been different. Instead, Zaragoza scored, and two thirds through the first half, just as I thought it’d be nice to score twice before halftime, they did just that. Once more, it was Ángel, with a rapid reflex bicycle kick from close range.

If surprise was my main reaction to the second goal, I’d feel incredulous when they scored the third. When did Zaragoza last go three up at half-time? And yet, it was true, Manu Lanzarote stumbled in a finish to a quick break, and UCAM’s Segunda debut was one to forget. Though, thanks to and Irureta foul, they did score a goal during additional time in the second half from a penalty, Jesús Imaz becoming a historic figure in UCAM.

Great mood in the Zaragoza camp currently, and right now I can’t wait for the next game. But to be fair, apart from efficiency, there’s still a lot to improve upon.

If you, like me, are a visual kind of person, here’s a nice video for you to gawk at.