Diving
in [World Football]
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From: DavidW on 15 Oct 2009 23:48 Good article by an Australian sports writer (whose background is not in soccer). All teams could take note, not just Australia. http://www.theage.com.au/news/sport/soccer/time-to-vote-with-the-feet--and-keep-them/2009/10/15/1255195876697.html?autostart=1 Time to vote with the feet - and keep them Greg Baum 16 October 2009 ONE DAY at the MCG, many years ago, the great West Indian Viv Richards hooked at a bouncer from Australia's Rodney Hogg, missed and was struck a fearful-looking blow to the head. It was unprotected, except for a cloth cap. The crowd gasped. Richards did not flinch, did not reach for the traumatised spot, did not even shake his head, but took block again. The next ball, another bouncer, he clouted for six. That was chalk. Cheese was Wednesday night's soccer international at Etihad Stadium, in which - all too familiarly - a physically affronted player would spin, crumple and then lie prone, as if picked off from the grassy mound, bringing play to a screeching halt. Mostly, long before the ambulance and the police escort could be arranged, he would make a Lazarus-like recovery. The Omanis were more prone, so to speak, provoking an apparently intemperate outburst from Australian team manager Garry Moretti to Oman coach Claude Le Roy at half-time. The trouble for Moretti was that Australia was standing not so much on high moral ground as thin ice. When necessary, Australians can roll, twist and writhe as well as any other. At one point, Josh Kennedy needed only a cross to turn Etihad Stadium into Calvary at sunset. Australians admired Richards, and were inspired by him, too. In most sporting endeavours, it is something of a proud Australian tradition not to betray even acute pain. A batsman, when struck, will not rub the sore spot. A heavily tackled footballer will gasp for a moment, then stoically carry on. A tennis player will not call for the trainer until his leg begins to detach. The thinking is not necessarily profound. It's about machismo, about the mental battle, about projecting a sense of indestructibility, about not admitting to your opponent that he has had even a moral victory. It is probably more reckless than it is wise. But it is us. And it is why many Australians who have warmed to soccer in this, its first golden age in this country, still are bemused by - even contemptuous of - the apparent frailty of so many soccer players, including Socceroos. They see it as antithetical to their idea of sport. They cannot dispel the suspicion that some of these apparent axe murders are no more than elaborate but tired tactical ploys, meant either to slow down the game or draw a sanction for an opponent. And they cannot help but think that all these boys crying wolf cruel it for the player who is genuinely injured. Here, the Socceroos have the chance to make a virtue of a vice. They could establish themselves as the team that plays the game, but not games. They could as a matter of policy make light of glancing slights and blows. They could, uniquely among soccer-playing nations, resolve to get on with the game. It would not be easy. No one doubts that an ankle clipped at pace hurts as if stabbed. No one doubts that sliding studs can inflict eye-watering pain. No one doubts a rough body check can have the effect of a rugby tackle. What they do doubt is that minutes later, the pain is still so unrelievedly excruciating that the victim is lying inert on the turf, hair arranged just so, or else clutching for several body parts at once, as if unable to remember which was supposed nearly to have been severed, meantime wincing dramatically, but with a half-open eye cocked towards the referee to make sure that he is watching. What they do doubt is that some of these clashes hurt any more than, for instance, the ball does when a defender blocks a thumping shot at close range, or heads it out of the skies. On Wednesday night, Omani goalkeeper Ali Al Habsi made a save when the ball struck him in the head. Though he must have seen stars, he did not even wince, let alone collapse for the camera; there was still a goal to be saved. Critics doubtlessly will say that I do not understand the game. They ought to consider this: much as the Socceroos are striving to impress the world, they are still tasked with trying to impress Australia. Much ground has been gained, but much has still to be made; the barely passable crowd on Wednesday night says as much. Australia is an earnest and honest team, but despite the yellow shirts, it is not like watching Brazil, not yet. It is not enough to say Australia must accustom itself to the world game; the world game must also adapt to Australia. It must be a game with which all Australian can identify. It has shown a willingness already, for instance, in the format of the A-League, which meshes league and knock-out competitions in a way would be a curio elsewhere in the world, but makes sense here. Mostly, Australians prefer their sporting representatives to be hard, robust, impervious to pain. The Socceroos have a chance to take a stance. Upright.
From: Abubakr on 16 Oct 2009 00:09 On 16 Oct, 14:48, "DavidW" <n...(a)email.provided> wrote: > Good article by an Australian sports writer (whose background is not in soccer). > All teams could take note, not just Australia. > > http://www.theage.com.au/news/sport/soccer/time-to-vote-with-the-feet... > > Time to vote with the feet - and keep them > Greg Baum > 16 October 2009 > > ONE DAY at the MCG, many years ago, the great West Indian Viv Richards hooked at > a bouncer from Australia's Rodney Hogg, missed and was struck a fearful-looking > blow to the head. It was unprotected, except for a cloth cap. The crowd gasped. > Richards did not flinch, did not reach for the traumatised spot, did not even > shake his head, but took block again. The next ball, another bouncer, he clouted > for six. > > That was chalk. Cheese was Wednesday night's soccer international at Etihad > Stadium, in which - all too familiarly - a physically affronted player would > spin, crumple and then lie prone, as if picked off from the grassy mound, > bringing play to a screeching halt. Mostly, long before the ambulance and the > police escort could be arranged, he would make a Lazarus-like recovery. > > The Omanis were more prone, so to speak, provoking an apparently intemperate > outburst from Australian team manager Garry Moretti to Oman coach Claude Le Roy > at half-time. The trouble for Moretti was that Australia was standing not so > much on high moral ground as thin ice. When necessary, Australians can roll, > twist and writhe as well as any other. At one point, Josh Kennedy needed only a > cross to turn Etihad Stadium into Calvary at sunset. > > Australians admired Richards, and were inspired by him, too. In most sporting > endeavours, it is something of a proud Australian tradition not to betray even > acute pain. A batsman, when struck, will not rub the sore spot. A heavily > tackled footballer will gasp for a moment, then stoically carry on. A tennis > player will not call for the trainer until his leg begins to detach. > > The thinking is not necessarily profound. It's about machismo, about the mental > battle, about projecting a sense of indestructibility, about not admitting to > your opponent that he has had even a moral victory. It is probably more reckless > than it is wise. But it is us. > > And it is why many Australians who have warmed to soccer in this, its first > golden age in this country, still are bemused by - even contemptuous of - the > apparent frailty of so many soccer players, including Socceroos. They see it as > antithetical to their idea of sport. > > They cannot dispel the suspicion that some of these apparent axe murders are no > more than elaborate but tired tactical ploys, meant either to slow down the game > or draw a sanction for an opponent. And they cannot help but think that all > these boys crying wolf cruel it for the player who is genuinely injured. > > Here, the Socceroos have the chance to make a virtue of a vice. They could > establish themselves as the team that plays the game, but not games. They could > as a matter of policy make light of glancing slights and blows. They could, > uniquely among soccer-playing nations, resolve to get on with the game. > > It would not be easy. No one doubts that an ankle clipped at pace hurts as if > stabbed. No one doubts that sliding studs can inflict eye-watering pain. No one > doubts a rough body check can have the effect of a rugby tackle. > > What they do doubt is that minutes later, the pain is still so unrelievedly > excruciating that the victim is lying inert on the turf, hair arranged just so, > or else clutching for several body parts at once, as if unable to remember which > was supposed nearly to have been severed, meantime wincing dramatically, but > with a half-open eye cocked towards the referee to make sure that he is > watching. > > What they do doubt is that some of these clashes hurt any more than, for > instance, the ball does when a defender blocks a thumping shot at close range, > or heads it out of the skies. On Wednesday night, Omani goalkeeper Ali Al Habsi > made a save when the ball struck him in the head. Though he must have seen > stars, he did not even wince, let alone collapse for the camera; there was still > a goal to be saved. > > Critics doubtlessly will say that I do not understand the game. They ought to > consider this: much as the Socceroos are striving to impress the world, they are > still tasked with trying to impress Australia. Much ground has been gained, but > much has still to be made; the barely passable crowd on Wednesday night says as > much. Australia is an earnest and honest team, but despite the yellow shirts, it > is not like watching Brazil, not yet. > > It is not enough to say Australia must accustom itself to the world game; the > world game must also adapt to Australia. It must be a game with which all > Australian can identify. It has shown a willingness already, for instance, in > the format of the A-League, which meshes league and knock-out competitions in a > way would be a curio elsewhere in the world, but makes sense here. > > Mostly, Australians prefer their sporting representatives to be hard, robust, > impervious to pain. The Socceroos have a chance to take a stance. Upright. A typical myopic view from a writer from the egg-ball brigade. First understand the game then you'll be in position to complain about players' behavior. Until then, pieces like this are nothing but the work of a lowlife propagandist. Football fans downunder are NOT interested.
From: DavidW on 16 Oct 2009 00:18 Abubakr wrote: > On 16 Oct, 14:48, "DavidW" <n...(a)email.provided> wrote: > > A typical myopic view from a writer from the egg-ball brigade. First > understand the game then you'll be in position to complain about > players' behavior. Until then, pieces like this are nothing but the > work of a lowlife propagandist. Football fans downunder are NOT > interested. So you approve of diving, or are you actually claiming that all those histrionics we see are genuine pain?
From: Abubakr on 16 Oct 2009 02:40 Funny he should mention cricket in this context, a sport replete with gamesmanship, and Australians, in particular, are masters of such arts. Play-acting in football is akin to sledging, appealing like your life depended on it even when you know the man's not out, not walking when you've nicked it, or underarming with one ball to go. If anything, the Socceroos are simply carrying on the great Aussie traditions of gamesmanship in their own sport. So so I approve of gamesmanship? No. But I understand why players do it. And I also understand that it's something Australian sportsmen in all sports take to with relish.
From: DavidW on 16 Oct 2009 06:59
Abubakr wrote: > Funny he should mention cricket in this context, a sport replete with > gamesmanship, and Australians, in particular, are masters of such > arts. Play-acting in football is akin to sledging, appealing like your > life depended on it even when you know the man's not out, not walking > when you've nicked it, or underarming with one ball to go. None of these examples is analogous to reacting like a wimp. He's not claiming that our cricketers are saints. In fact, he chose a West Indian as his prime example. > If > anything, the Socceroos are simply carrying on the great Aussie > traditions of gamesmanship in their own sport. It's more than just gamesmanship. It's whiny and pathetic. The game is damaged when players behave like sooks. > So so I approve of gamesmanship? No. But I understand why players do > it. And I also understand that it's something Australian sportsmen in > all sports take to with relish. And he'd be one of the first to acknowledge that. He doesn't hold back criticizing Australians for anything when he thinks they deserve it. But his article is not about gamesmanship in general, but a particular kind. |