Mandžukić’s Chilena

Episode #5

Morning Journal,

I was thinking of my favorite football moment of 2017.

It wasn’t Monaco winning Ligue 1. An incredible achievement, but that was more of a story than a single moment.

Totti retiring, the actual day. His final goodbye at the Stadio Olimpico (which got killer reviews on Google by the way) came to mind. Tears and tears. A tearful Totti is a Totti worth remembering. But alas…

Then there’s the US men’s team not qualifying for the World Cup. A bit of shock and joy.  A hope that rot will stop, which may only happen if Eric Wynalda is elected as the USSF president. But that’s another journal entry for another day.

But the moment that rose to my hippocampus’s surface was Mario Mandžukić’s Champions League final chilena:

Mandžukić, Juventus’s alleyway brawler, displayed his technique and audacity to lift the hope of Juventus supporters around the world.

It wasn’t enough.

Mandžukić’s goal, his match tying goal. His momentum shifting goal. His glimmer of hope goal, will likely be forgotten. Real Madrid’s 3 second half goals turned brilliance into a consolation.

Football supporters just don’t sit around in pubs discussing all the amazing consolation goals they’ve witnessed.

But when it was executed, in that that moment, the Croatian’s chilena wasn’t a consolation goal. It was a celebration.

Here’s to more chilena’s in 2018.


Eric made me do it

Episode #4


Have you heard of marginalia? Sounds pretentious, but my made up definition is simple:

Writing notes in the margins of whichever book your reading.

It’s a note taking system practiced by some of history’s greatest minds. And a practice I resisted.

Ink up a book?

Soil the pages?

Question the author?

I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

But then, back in 05’, I bought a book I couldn’t put down. A book that opened the tent flaps on European football. The book was:


Beckham: Both Feet on the Ground: An Autobiography


In Beckham: Both Feet on the Ground, Becks shares a story of watching Eric Cantona train:



Evernote wasn’t around. Pocket didn’t exist. But I needed to remember. Needed to be reminded that even Eric Cantona, Old Trafford myth, made time to sharpen his Katana.

I’m doing it.

I stole a highlighter from my mother’s desk drawer and lit up the page.

Ok. It wasn’t marginalia full blast, but it was a start. To this day, when I see Beckham spine out on my shelf, those highlighted pages come back to me.

I’ll always remember, Eric made me do it.







Bald Hero

Episode #3


First French football hero? You guessed it. Fabien Barthez.

Goalkeeper was the first position I was attracted to. It’s natural when you grow up playing basketball and you can’t do five keepie-uppies.

Goalkeepers seemed so heroic, living knights of the round table. Diving hands first into danger to save the entire team. They even wore superhero costumes, kits unlike anyone else on the field. Draped in jerseys colored in Broccoli green, Sunflower yellow, even 80s pop star pink was an option.

Keepers though, were demi-gods. Peter Schmeichel, Ollie Kahn (did anyone call him Ollie to his face?), with their sculpted shoulders and grizzly bear paws were BC Olympians. Out of reach of us eighty-six-pound mortals.

Then there was Fabian Barthez.

He scraped in at six feet. And closer resembled a grocer, filling the bins with vine fresh tomatoes early Saturday morning, rather than a top-level goalkeeper.

But Barthez, with his Copa Mundials and number 16 shirt won the Champions League with Marseille. Lifted the World and European cup with France. He even won the league with Manchester United.

Zidane treasures him. When asked which player from the 98′ team he’d add to the current French side, he replied “Barthez”.

I don’t remember any spectacular saves Barthez made. I can’t recall a press conference where he charmed anyone. I’ve never saw him lift a trophy.

None of these things made Barthez my hero. He was my hero because I could see a little of myself in him.

I’m out,


Link Ups – December 2017

    1. La Masia and Clairefontaine have nothing on the streets of Naples. Chloe Beresford explains.
    2. Slow motion for me…slow motion. In the age of pace Cesc Fàbregas survives.
    3.  William Gallas grows a salt and pepper 5 o’ clock shadow. Chris Waddle rocks a mullet. Joey Barton wears a beanie.  See it all in: Marseille: A Football City from Dugout.

– Thanks to Get French Football News for sharing the Marseille documentary.


Bielsa Banished

Episode #2



Sniff…Whimper…Sniff…Bielsa’s out at Lille.

Bielsa, a man of impeccable personal integrity, flew to Chile to visit Luis Bonini a former assistant suffering with cancer. Strange, Lille’s official position was that Bielsa was  “suspended”. I haven’t heard that one before. Is that the football version of “creative differences”?

The break up was inevitable, but this time Bielsa seemed set for success.

He showed up.

He got his requested transfers.

And he received a blessing to coach Lille from a prominent Marseille ultra.

It wasn’t enough.

To further the Bielsa legend Julien Laurens tweeted a picture (via @MaryPatrux) a few days ago of Bielsa watching a Lille match on his laptop:



Are we sure it was the Lille match? Or was he logging into his Steam account?

I’ll take Julien’s word.

I’m out,


P.S. Where to next for Bielsa? My only Christmas wish, the US mens national team.




I’m Not A Player I Just Crush A lot

Episode #1

Dear Journal,

I’m trying to remember when I started crushing on French football.
Was it World Cup 98? Zidane’s double headers in Paris?

No, that was my first exposure to the French team, but I was supporting the Seleção. The Nike commercials, the Canary Yellow kits. El Phenomenon.

Zidane who?

I had no clue. I couldn’t comprehend Zidane’s composure on the ball. I didn’t appreciate the roulettes or dragbacks. All I saw was a balding forty-four-year-old midfielder head two bullets past a cardboard cut-out of Taffarel.

Yeah, those blue Adidas kits were dope as hell but our relationship was still years away.
Oh, I remember now. London. It all began in North London.

Monaco takes on Amiens tonight. Another Ligue 1 team I’ll have to google. Friday night football is like chicken fried steak, weekend comfort food.

I’m out,



P.S. I learned later that summer Zidane was only 26 years old. His early male pattern baldness brought me great comfort later in life.

Bielsa’s Next Stand


Marcelo Bielsa is the greatest loser in football history—if one defines winning only by trophy hauls. For a man who has inspired an entire generation of coaches, his 3 Argentinian titles and Olympic gold over a 25 year career make for a short resume. Despite his lonely trophy cabinet, Bielsa is still lauded by his peers and football romantics the globe over.

As both legend and myth, Bielsa has become the Henry Thoreau of football—out in his own tactical wilderness built from his fundamental ideals, refusing to compromise.

His teams, wooed by his philosophy, are a pleasure to behold. In sync, they’re intelligent football machines programmed with a combination of ruthless man-marking and cut-throat attacking patterns. They are easy to admire but taxing on the participants.

His disciples, affectionately named “Bielsaites,” have won more than he ever will. By taking Bielsa’s philosophy of high pressing and vertical attacks and tweaking the code, they edit the syntax with a hint of pragmatism. Pep’s Barcelona and Sampaoli’s Chile are the all conquering versions of tactical formulas Bielsa developed years ago.

However, one quickly learns with Bielsa. He never lets ‘em down gently. At the first sign of treason, he’s bashing skulls with management, walking out, and leaving withered teams in his wake.

It happened at Bilbao, it’s happened again at Marseille.

I’d become desperate for Bielsa to sculpt Marseille into champions. Would this Marseille team be Bielsa’s first European side not to sputter out?


After leading PSG most of the year, the season ended with a wretched 4th place finish. No Champions League. No runners up medal. Nada.

Bielsa’s inevitable resignation left me pondering – What if this was his last stand? What competitions missed out on a bespectacled football-obsessive trawling the sidelines? Which team could use a clear playing identity and knowledge that there’s 36 ways to communicate with a pass?

At first the list sprawled across my kitchen table: a mix between football manager, bucket list, plea for help, and Victorian love letter. In the end I whittled it down to three…three football institutions that could use a sprinkle of Bielsa after he abandons Lille.

The Champions League

World Cup be damned, the Champions League is now football’s most prestigious stage. Top coaches and players thrive in the competition. Crave it. The anthem, the flood lights, the chance to make history: it’s the country club for football’s elite.

A Bielsa team has yet to grace the tournament. And still, somehow this is where Bielsa belongs—amongst the greats.

Admittedly Bielsa’s brand of rapid vertical passing isn’t ideal for the measured approach most sides deploy, but that’s exactly why Bielsa needs to compete here: to challenge the assumed, to agitate the natural order.

Watching a Bielsa team at full gallop on a star-twinkled Tuesday night would be an experience to savor, to replay in your mind’s 8 millimeter reel. And if his team went beyond the group stages, well…

The F.A. Cup

Bielsa needs to win a trophy. Any trophy. Well, not any trophy. The Emirates Cup doesn’t count. Nor does anything that has “ToTo” in it. He needs a domestic cup. And what better cup to win than Britain’s premier knock-out tourney?

The team he leads there is irrelevant, but Leeds United or Nottingham Forest would be fine choices. Two fan bases lusting for past glories, each two legged affair en route to the final would be high-line opera.

The final itself—a celebration of English pomp—would have Bielsa looking like a nerd at lunch, frantically trying to spot a chair where he’d be left alone.

And if they won it? Scenes.

Winning the F.A. cup would challenge Bielsa’s allergic reaction to smiling. Can you imagine Bielsa, hair frazzled, champagne bubbles dripping off his chops, cheerleader-tossed in the air by his adoring players?

Yeah me neither.

The United States Men’s National Team

Too fantastic a notion? The stuff of screenplays? Sure. But when Bruce Arena’s time is up this is the hire you make – got it Sunil? Offers you can’t refuse slammed on the negotiating table.

A perfect match, the current US pool is brimming with fragmented potential: a motley crew of eager midfielders, naive defenders and sitter-missing strikers. They’re a collection of players willing to bust lungs for 90 minutes—the type of dedication Bielsa demands, but, are missing a collective aim.

Jurgen’s promises of a unified American playing identity never surfaced, while crafting a clear team structure is Bielsa’s purview. For all his neuroses, Bielsa took Chile, a team swollen with talent but haunted by ghosts of tournaments past, and drafted up a blueprint that each successor since has continued, improved upon and won trophies with.

U.S. Soccer and the powers that be, make it happen.

Where will Bielsa turn up after Lille? His journey has been as unpredictable as the man himself. He may in fact never coach in the Champions League, win the F.A. Cup or coach the United States Men’s National Team. But wherever he settles, you can be sure—regardless of destination or results—his legend will continue to grow.

Ligue 1 is Europe’s most exciting competition


Here’s Our 3 Wishes for 2017

Marseille’s renaissance continues

Bilesa’s return flamed out, but Marseille rebounded with Rudy Garcia. Garcia is no “El Loco” in style or manner, but he’s won Ligue 1 against all odds, with Lille. Garcia took over a side that was 12th in the table. Since then Marseille has lost only two, climbing to 6th. Gomis has ten goals in nine. And Saki, Rolando, Hubocan and Fanni have developed into a formidable back four.

Missing out on John Obi Mikel to China is a blow but, if Frank McCourt ponies up the Euros for a Dimitri Payet return some of the skepticism around his investment in the club may dim.

Could Marseille finish top four? Not this year. But a Europa league place would restore dignity to a wayward season and awaken hope in the Velodrome faithful.

Jean Michael Seri leads Nice to Glory

Dante’s gotten love. Balotelli the headlines. But it’s Seri, the Ivorian Ant-Man who’s Nice’s indispensable player. Leading Ligue 1 in assists the man’s range of passing and mobility are the keys that ignite Nice’s engine. If he stays healthy and Nice win it, he should be Ligue 1’s player of the season-and off to a bigger club. How Nice copes with Seri’s absence during the African Cup of Nations will determine if the Ligue 1 championship finds a home on the French coast.

Monaco stays offensive

Monaco. Home of world class Grand Prix, no income tax and attacking football. Attacking football? Yes. Attacking football. Sure, in the past Leonardo Jardim’s Monaco have been accused of parking buses and inducing yawns. However, this year’s edition has 49 goals scored. Top for all of Europe’s major leagues.

Falcao’s 11 goals have been a welcome resurgence and Guido Carrillo’s 7 has already surpassed his total from the previous season. Jardim’s new tactical approach has ensured Ligue 1 is well within reach. Manchester City await in the round of 16 and a semi-final place in the Coupe de la Ligue keeps the treble in play. Will Jardim alter Monaco’s approach to appease the trophy gods? Or will banging Gs’ remain?

Ligue 1 Quickie: PSG vs Nice

ligue1quickiePSG always makes the headlines, we’ll focus on Nice instead. Three observations:

First half efficiency.

Nice didn’t have much possession in the first half, but when they did, they played it forward with purpose. Two chances. Two goals. Wylan Cyprien’s inside of the foot free kick curler was sublime. And Clea’s team leading 10th goal of the season, splitting Brazilian bookends Silvia and Marquinhos sent Nice’s travelling support bonkers. The lead didn’t last, but two goals at the Parc des Princes could cement Nice’s belief that Ligue 1 is theirs.

A Goalkeeping Folktale.

I love short goalkeepers. They’re creatures of folklore who defy modern norms. Yoan Cardinale is Ligue 1’s short shot stopper supreme. His slick hair and modest height resembles an office intern or the produce lead at your local grocer, not Nice’s number 1 netminder. Yoan’s bobble on Kurzawa’s cross may have cost Nice three points, but his earlier double save on Kurzawa and Cavani may have preserved one. Cardinale isn’t the keeper to lead Nice to the title, but it’s hard to root against him.

Balotelli’s Cameo.

Favre brought Balotelli on in minute 75 searching for a late winner. Football’s main maverick has matured both on and off the pitch under Favre scoring goals and not playing game boy on the bench. But the performance was classic Balotelli. 20 minutes played, a few world class touches, a shot from 35 yards out and a yellow card.