Argentina’s Biggest Export: The Footballer (And Money)-Making Machine
Dan Edwards · 4 November, 2013
Whether you are a football fan or not, although I am guessing you might have a passing interest if you have stumbled onto this portion of the site, I have a little exercise for you. Take a look at Europe’s three biggest leagues, in Italy, Spain and England. Once there, make a mental note of who has been making the headlines, and scoring the goals.
You will no doubt find that a decent percentage of football’s biggest stars the ‘other’ side of the Atlantic Ocean have one thing in common: an Argentine passport.
In a landmark moment, 2010 saw Argentina overtake Brazil in the number of players ‘exported’ to other nations. An incredible 1716 players left the land of Maradona for exotic new climes, according to a BBC study. To put it in other, slightly more unpleasant terms, the trade in human football ‘flesh’ for the first half of 2013 was worth US$228 million. That sum is equal to a quarter of the nation’s entire meat export industry, an important comparison in the land of beef and leather.
Many of these players are household names. Inter’s 3-0 win at the weekend over Udinese, for example, was inspired by goals from Rodrigo Palacio and Ricardo Álvarez, both prominent in the Argentina national set-up. Over in England, Maradona’s son-in-law (and, according to the great man himself, a cagón) Sergio Agüero got himself on the scoresheet during Manchester City’s 7-0 destruction of Norwich, making him the Premier League’s joint-top scorer.
The standard-bearer of course is Lionel Messi, and although the ‘Atomic Flea’ is in a rare form slump his quality (100 goals in a single year, anyone) marks him out as an ambassador for Argentina across the globe.
Then there is the other side of the story. Auckland City boast their own Argentine import, Emiliano Tade. The forward was not exactly head-hunted; while back-packing in New Zealand he stumbled upon a trial for the local giants, and decided to make his home on the other side of the globe. From China to Cyprus, and Uruguay to Ukraine, national globetrotters are making their mark on a worldwide scale.
The attraction for buyers is obvious. Players from the country invariably come with ample, albeit at times raw, talent. Local citizenship laws mean that turning up Italian or Spanish heritage and hence a coveted EU passport is rarely much of an obstacle.
Having performed in leagues with some of the most demanding, vociferous fans in the world, there is usually not too much added pressure when playing in front of the Inter, or Manchester City faithful; there, at least you can be fairly certain a group of armed maniacs will not be waiting for you at the end of training should the team’s form take a tumble.
Perhaps most crucially, Argentines are cheap. Many ‘intermediate’ European clubs such as Portuguese sides Benfica and Porto, or the likes of Catania (13 Argentines in the first-team squad) in Sicily sign up prospects from the country four or five at a time. A youngster who flops can be loaned out or sent back; a kid who clicks and starts shining can be sold for 10 or 20 times the original price paid. It is a financial, as well as sporting investment.
As any good student of economics (which I, sadly, am not) will tell you, trade runs on push and pull. And modern Argentine football is full of reasons too which almost literally push youngsters towards Europe or elsewhere. The basic wage for an academy graduate is $7900 a month (US$1335 at the official rate), a fantastic salary for a 19-year-old but pitiful in comparison to even the lowest-paying countries across the Atlantic.
Agents and representatives, too, work in the background seemingly a law unto themselves. Many Argentine footballers are owned at least partially by agents or investors, which makes it even harder for a club to hold onto their stars. This third-party ownership means players (or more likely agents) can negotiate directly with clubs, and it must be said that often the choices made appear largely motivated by a pair of golden dollar signs rather than the youngster’s best interests.
Add in chaotic management of clubs, massive debts which means it is in an institution’s best interests to sell the most talented stars, and the aforementioned ‘fans’ who are never too shy to physically threaten playing staff, and it is no surprise that footballers leave in their droves to where the grass is greener.
The system as it stands is dangerously open to exploitation and manipulation. The third-party ownership phenomenon, banned in many European countries, has been called an effective ‘slavery’ by some football unions, and leads to all sorts of transfer and tax anomalies which serve to weaken a player’s control over his own future.
You can read a little more on how the third-party system works here, but the same rules apply in general for Argentine players. The outlook is further complicated by the fact that agents and investors often own a significant percentage, or even the entirety of a player’s contract, meaning clubs essentially rent their staff’s services. A team will also often grant a young prospect 25 percent, say of their own playing rights, as an initially cheaper form of rewarding a new first-team player without a significant pay rise. It is beneficial in the short-term, but it invariably leads to instability and a revolving door of players passing through. Independiente president Javier Cantero in 2012 took the unprecedented step of publishing who exactly owns the Rojo playing staff, revealing an intricate mix of third-parties, clubs who never played a single game with the players in question, and only a handful of youngsters who were fully owned by the Avellaneda institution.
It also invites all sorts of unsavoury characters into the game. The fall of a multi-million dollar narcotics cartel in Tigre’s Nordelta gated neighbourhood has come with the revelation that cocaine and marijuana were not the group’s only source of income. The owners of ‘Los Magnificos’ carwash in the area used the front as a meeting point for all their business concerns; including, it is alleged, the buying and selling of players in Argentina’s Primera Division.
San Lorenzo wonderkid Ángel Correa, meanwhile, is suspected of having a full 35 percent of his playing rights in the hands of Los Monos. The Rosario-based narco syndicate, according to local paper La Capital, even went to a game to cheer on their ‘property’, who for now still plays in the Primera Division but who at 18 has already been linked with a move overseas.
To their credit, the country’s authorities are not standing still. Tax collectors AFIP (hold the groans, expats who work en blanco) have made it a top priority to smash the complex labyrinth of third-party contracts, money laundering and tax evasion that typifies many transfers both domestically and involving European clubs. At the start of the 2012 Inicial season, the body went as far as to blacklist 146 agents accused of shady dealings, while temporarily suspending several top players until their tax and economic situation was regularized.
Nobody is trying to argue that the football trade should be shut down, that is horrifically simplistic and impossible in this globalized world. Besides, top players such as Lionel Messi, Gonzalo Higuaín, Sergio Agüero to name just a few, may never have reached their potential without access to the top-class playing facilities and coaches that Europe offers. The economic benefit for clubs here, too, makes selling key to their business plans.
But it comes at a price. Domestic Argentine football has suffered immeasurably from the exodus. Not so much from the loss of its superstars, which has happened since the start of the 1980s. The real damage has been done in the middle; now decent footballers who in previous eras would have been fixtures in Boca, say, or River, ply their trade in Russia or Portugal. The Primera Division has been hollowed out, leaving a curious mix of could-be’s, has-beens and never-will-be’s filling its 20 teams.
From the player’s point of view, too, a sale is not always the best option. Far too many excellent young stars have been shipped out by unscrupulous agents to Russia, Ukraine or other far-flung outposts, only to find the change too much. Unable to speak the language and most likely left hanging by the representatives who were in constant contact when a fat commission was in play, there are countless examples of footballers leaving Argentina at 19 or 20 only to return three years later, their spirits broken and having to rebuild when they should be at their peak.
Observers and commentators point proudly to the thousands of hopefuls that leave from Ezeiza every year to make their destiny, attributing it to a proud football nation whose product is in demand throughout the world. But it is not so simple. Exporting players has become a millionaire’s business, with plenty willing to act less than ethically in order to make a quick buck. If we really want to be proud of Argentine football, let’s start taking better care of the players who make it so renowned in every corner of the globe, and treat youngsters with the respect they deserve.
Nobody wants to stop Argentina’s most famous export; but the least that can be done is install a transparent, open system that removes power from those shady figures in the background, and works in the best interests of both clubs and players.
Brasil: Flamengo, Vasco, Fluminense, Botafogo (100% Carioca) Rio > Säo Paulo
MENGÃO TRI DA AMÈRICA: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1RlVt8zJhXQ