When Football Was Magical
Take me back
There was a time when I could list the first eleven of various top teams in different football leagues.
I’m an Arsenal fan, down to the bone. Regardless, the reason I could list the first eleven of our rival teams like Manchester United and Chelsea was that every team had their magic. It was a collective effort of unique quality that every player brought to the team.
Football was so magical I would have stickers of individual players in a book, inside and on the cover of my Oxford Mathematical Set, and even on my skin. Today, I find the magic lacking.
Many World Cup songs have come and gone. Unlike all the past ones, there’s a magical element to Shakira’s version, Waka Waka. A qualitative difference. I have chills every time I watch the song’s video. You cannot quantify it, but you can feel it. From the beginning up to the point when the song climaxes.
That is the kind of magic players brought to the team.
My argument is the previous era of magical football led to the dominance of two greats — Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo. They were forged in this magical crucible. Since man is known to identify contrasts, their skill level contrasted with the current lackluster style of football.
First, to notice this difference, let us relive the magic.
The magical era
The individuality of the sport was seen through the unique skill set key players brought to the game.
It was not limited to a region or country but was global. The first cohort will definitely have to be Brazil. It’s saddening to imagine today’s kids will grow up without witnessing the mad skill set Brazil showed the world.
My mother loved Denilson’s wizardry. His lopsided stepovers were perfected enough to leave any defender staggering. The samba player enjoyed bewitching defenders. Today, even this skill is almost extinct on the pitch.
Denilson could just as easily be substituted without dumping the energy. At the front was another killer striker — Ronaldo. The original Ronaldo. There will never be another Ronaldo like Ronaldo. My brother used to call him ‘fat boy, but nothing about his movement on the pitch was fat. Ronaldo would terrorize defenses in the most peaceful way.
Next to him was another icon — Rivaldo, remembered for his height, silent leadership, and flawless bicycle kicks. Combine Ronaldo and Rivaldo, and you’ve got a defense team that would have to work overtime. But even if you substituted the two, there would still be other killer strikers. Before these two, there was Romario, the short and resolute genius. He started playing football with adults at a young age at the beach. His stamina and aggressiveness stood out when he grew older to become a powerful forward.
The younger versions were Adriano and Robinho. Adriano was a tall figure with speed. Robinho was like the serpent charmer — slow but confusing.
And when you move to the middle, you’d have the likes of Zico (White Pele) and Gilberto Silva. The left-wing will always have a permanent sport for Gaucho. The full name — Ronaldo Assis de Moriera, alias Ronaldinho. He will always be my favourite player. Always. His swinging locks as he moved with speed, precision and the passes he gave without looking are historic. Wikipedia further elaborates:
He is the only player ever to have won a World Cup, a Copa América, a Confederations Cup, a Champions League, a Copa Libertadores and a Ballon d’Or
I even remember when he won the Ballon d’Or. He was recorded juggling using his head and shoulders. And when the ball fell back to the ground, he would strike the upper bar of the goalpost. Intentionally. Severally. Tell me that is not wizardry. It’s no coincidence that he was given the nickname — O Bruxo (The Wizard).
At the back would be a steadfast defense. On the right was the captain of this legendary team, CAFU. I had to write his name in capital letters because you have to be of a different stripe to lead such a powerful team. Speaking of power, on the left was the stout Roberto Carlos. There will never be another defender with a shot as powerful as that of Roberto Carlos. Never!
I’ve waxed poetic about Brazil because they were not footballers. They were hypnotists with a license to demolish teams. Other players like Kaka were moulded by these legends. The same playing ground shaped players like Cristiano and Messi, but before that, onto other countries.
Next to Brazil was another country whose praises will never end because of Lionel Messi. Before Messi, however, was a crazy left-footed sorcerer.
Diego Maradona was exceptional. It’s no surprise why he was listed by an overwhelming majority as the FIFA player of the century along side the Brazilian striker, Pele.
In one game, he imprinted himself in history with the Hand of God, and in the same game, he dribbled past players from one defense to another ending in a goal.
Claims that one could have been using drugs are irrelevant because if you were to give today’s players the same drugs, none of them would elevate to such a level of honed skill. Maradona stood out, but there were others too. Gabriel Batistuta, Hernan Crespo, and Carlos Tevez. At the centre was a master controller of the game — Juan Román Riquelme. At the back was ‘the little witch’, Juan Sebastián Verón. But enough about South America. Let’s move to Europe.
France boasted a good number of players too. Perhaps one we will never forget is the slow but sure Zizou. Whenever I think of Zidane, I remember two particular moments — when he connected a never-descending ball from Roberto Carlos and volleyed it into a goal, what I liked to call — as it is. The ball came and he converted it as it came without it touching the ground. The other is when he lobbed the ball over Ronaldo, the original Ronaldo, in the 2006 World Cup quarter-finals.
Powerhouses such as Theirry Henry and Franck Ribery would leave defenders gasping for air. Henry, for instance, would then pass the ball to himself whenever he had the chance. He was that fast — fast enough to pass the ball to himself while the defenders struggled to catch up.
Zizou and Patrick Viera were pillars of strength in France, just as Fabien Barthez was a reliable goal keeper. Talking about goalkeepers, Bartez and Oliver Kahn are the kind of keepers who would shout, make noise, and be justified for it because they were exceptional. They would even take free kicks and score. Someone like Oliver Kahn, who played for Germany, would hold the ball with a single hand and throw it way past the center of the pitch. To date, he is the only goalkeeper in the history of the World Cup tournament to have won the Golden Ball award.
Germany too had its insane players. Michael Ballack, Jürgen Klinsmann, and Miroslav Klose (who holds the record for most goals scored in the World Cup) would only inject terror into a defense. Klose somewhat always reminded me of Andriy Mykolayovych Shevchenko, the veteran striker vetted as the only Ukranian to have won the Ballon d’Or. Today, I can’t name any Ukranian legend.
England had their stars too. Frank Lampard and the England captain, Steven Gerrard were the killer shooters. The shots had the power to knock out the breath from a keeper. Another player who had a killer shot was Paul Scholes. As for the strikers, you wouldn’t know who to pick: Wayne Rooney, the record goalscorer for Manchester United or Jermain Defoe. The team also had one Cole on the left defense, and another Cole on the right wing. Several times, David Beckham would have their opponents hold their breath whenever he sent a cross or took over a free kick. Players would then be secured knowing John Terry and Rio Ferdinand would take care of things at the back.
One Welsh player who dominated in England was Ryan Giggs. I cannot fail to mention him, since my siblings always remind me of the jersey I had when I was shedding my milk teeth.
Italy too could not be forgotten with players such as Filippo Inzaghi, Alessandro Del Piero, and Francesco Totti at the front. But these three were preceded by Roberto Baggio. At the centre were two players who were responsible for several knee injuries. Gianfranco Zola, with speed and power, Gennaro Gattuso with his aggression, and Andrea Pirlo with calm poise and killer passes. Gianluigi Buffon would then occupy the entire post with his large frame.
Spain too would boast a strong line-up. The team would have Iker Casillas at the post, confident in the defensive force led by Carles Puyol and on the extreme, a striker who ran to the very end, Raul Gonzalez. Portugal also had players, captained by Luis Figo. The Netherlands had a combination of power and speed in players like Edgar Davids, Ruud van Nistelrooy, Arjen Robben, Dennis Bergkamp, and Robin van Persie, with Sweden boasting of the later Calvin Klein model, Freddie Ljungberg.
One horse of a player deserves a mention, because after him, just like Shevchenko, I can’t name another. The name was Pavel Nedved from the Czech Republic and the only other player in his country to win the Ballon d’Or. Nicknamed the Czech Fury, Nedved had the stamina of eleven people. Speaking of stamina, my continent also had a lot to share with the world.
From South Africa, we had players like Quinton Fortune who got to play in the English Premier League. Most of the talent, however, came from central and west Africa. Nigeria had powerhouses like Jay-Jay Okocha, Rashidi Yekini, Obafemi Martins, and my mother will kill me if I forget to mention Nwankwo Kanu. while Cameroun had Patrick Mboma, Samuel Eto’o, Roger Milla, and Rigobert Song. Ivory Coast had brothers play for their teams — Yaya and Kolo Toure and the Chelsea forward, Didier Drogba.
Ghana had their equivalent of Pavel Nedved — Michael Essien. I like to joke that he was so fast and ran with his chest that his hair was never straight. Not forgetting George Weah Opong from Liberia as the only African to have won the Ballon d’Or and FIFA Player of the Year.
Senegal had a duo that will forever go down in history — El Hadji Diouf and Henri Camara. Powering Senegal up to the quarter-finals of the 2002 World Cup, they represented two pieces of the same person, complementary threats, like Steph Curry and Klay Thompson, or Lebron and Dwayne Wayde in basketball. Even Kenya had its unique players, with Francis Onyiso holding the fort at the goalpost, J.J. Masiga on the wing, Dennis Oliech the sprinter slash striker, and the legendary Joe Kadenge.
The era was one filled with magic, the kind of magic you never wanted to miss. Today, it is all but missing. An emphasis on team sport, although healthy, has taken away the personal touch.
I wax poetic about magic because it was just that. Consider the jersey number 10. It was held at such a high regard, that nobody would take it up unless you rose to such a level. Jay Jay Okocha, Pele, Patrick Mboma, Diego Maradona, Zinadine Zidane, Rivaldo.
Today, there’s a lot of acting. They are so obvious. It wasn’t the case back then. As Shakira sang:
If you get down, get up, oh-oh
When you get down, get up, eh-eh
There was no time to act. You had to rise and continue until the ref blew that whistle. It was hard to keep someone down. Plus, the VAR, as objective as it is, it too saps the mystery from the game. It’s become acceptable, but I doubt it would have allowed Maradona to go down in history with his Hand of God.
This was the magic that moulded Messi and Cristiano
Today, the name Ronaldo is only associated with the Portuguese legend.
He was given that name because of the star that came before him — the original Ronaldo. I must however confess that I have always been a Messi fan, but the Ronaldo I would just as easily have supported was the Ronaldo from Manchester United.
Back in England, the guy would cause havoc in their defense. And he was in the team that housed the greats like Ryan Giggs, Louis Saha, Wayne Rooney, Ruud van Nistelrooy, and Paul Scholes. He had an amazing team to learn from.
Same to Lionel Messi. At 16, he started learning from Samuel Eto’o, Ronaldinho and Iniesta. In the midfield was Deco. At the back, Puyol.
They must have had their unique talent for it to be shaped into greatness. The combination of talent and rich breeding grounds separated them from the pack. Today, that magic lies dormant. I barely see it.
What I’m trying to say is…
There was a magic.
Although it feels gone, the beautiful thing about magic is its unpredictability. You cannot know when it will strike or resurface.
What I feel is that football needs its magic back, a cohort to sprinkle the pixie dust back into the game.
How can we bring it back?
That is the question.
Some of the legends I have mentioned are captured in this song. For that reason, it will always have timeless value. This song inspired some of the lines used in this article. Source — YouTube