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Liga MX Round-Up: Relegation befalls Atlante

Only a week after Cruz Azul became the first Liga MX team to clinch a spot in the liguilla, the mystery of which team would go the opposite direction and end up relegated has been virtually settled. Atlante fought hard to avoid the drop, and the result was a roller-coaster match versus Santos Laguna that produced seven goals. Sadly for Potros fans, three goals left them on the losing end. With zero points earned right when every point possible was needed, Atlante´s last gasp of hope has expired. Darwin Quintero doomed Atlante almost all on his own, scoring three goals against the Cancun side. The Laguneros move into third place in the table and are well-poised for the playoffs.

For most of the other teams in Liga MX, though, the truth of how badly teams want to fight for a post-season spot is here to be tested. Tigres, up by a goal and with a man advantage versus Tijuana, might have relaxed too early in the match. A Richard Ruiz goal in the 85th minute off a corner grabbed a draw and a point for the Xolos that puts the team, for now, in liguilla position. Carlos Salcido went from being the scoring hero for Tigres to being the player who conceded that fateful corner. Now in 12th place, Tigres may have to win out and hope for other results to go their way just to make the playoffs. It´s ironic, partly because the team has just claimed the year´s first Liga MX trophy -- the Copa MX. Now, the champions of that tournament may not even make the league finals.

Despite having clinched a liguilla spot, Cruz Azul has another tournament to worry about as well, namely the CONCACAF Champions final versus Toluca on Tuesday. It´s only fitting that the clubs that have been first and second almost the entire season battle it out for regional supremacy. In anticipation of the game, La Maquina allowed some younger and untested players to earn playing time this weekend while resting their top stars. Two goals by Pachuca´s Enner Valencia looked like a winning margin, but Los Cementeros made a comeback. Veteran Christian Gimenez and newbie Michael Farfan scored in the final 10 minutes of the match to salvage a point for Cruz Azul. Pachuca currently sit in sixth place in the table.

Despite winning the Copa MX last year, Cruz Azul are still somewhat trophy-starved, not to mention feeling slightly cursed in championship finals, so their title game versus Toluca will be very crucial to the squad. Toluca, as well, though, can afford to focus on the match as well, which could perhaps provide a preview of the eventual Liga MX final.

For Leon, Copa Libertadores glory and the prestige of defeating Flamengo in Brazil is tempered by the hard truth that the defending champions of Liga MX are on the verge of losing out on the liguilla entirely. Toluca scored twice to come back from a goal down, leaving Leon languishing in 13th position in the table.

Club America fans are breathing easier, however. A single goal versus Puebla, scored in the second minute of the match by Miguel Layun, was enough to secure fourth place for Las Aguilas, making their playoff road much easier. Puebla´s one consolation in a horrid season is that at least relegation looks fated for Atlante, leaving Puebla safe on that count.

For Chivas, though, the Ricardo La Volpe era still has to prove itself. Though Guadalajara didn´t lose versus Morelia, the 1-1 draw left the club clinging desperately to the final liguilla spot. So many other squads within striking distance would love to claim that place. The new coach’s first order of business -- to make the playoffs -- may be harder to handle than first imagined. Three places behind Chivas, Morelia is one of the teams gunning to move up.

Pumas could have done more against Veracruz to earn full points, but the draw result of 1-1 keeps UNAM in playoff position. Pumas is the only club which has 22 points, just one point ahead of a chasing trio of clubs, but the advantage could be the crucial difference. Therefore, the equalizing strike by Jose Carlos Galland was truly precious.

Queretaro still has financial problems to work out, but one move that may be working out just fine now is the poaching of Camillo Sanvezzo from Major League Soccer. The wily goal scorer put Queretaro up versus Atlas in the 70th minute, and that was enough for the win. The three points still didn´t put Queretaro in the liguilla, but the team is lurking just outside the playoff ranks. Meanwhile, Atlas is only two points behind.

Wins are desperately needed for both Monterrey or Chiapas, who tied each other instead and thus split points and remain tied in the table with 17 points.

With so much parity in Liga MX, the liguilla squads will likely be settled by minor differences such as goal differential. The idea that one goal changes everything is an old cliche, but that doesn´t stop it from being true.

Matosas´ farewell -- threat or reality?

LOS ANGELES -- Gustavo Matosas must have left Leon gobsmacked, and Coapa and El Barrial jumping for joy. The Argentine-born coach, educated in Mexico, and Uruguayan by choice, has announced that his time at Leon is coming to an end.

He claims he is missing something; his team´s performance on the pitch no longer satisfies him. He wants to improve the team. He believes, "I am not doing my job."

There are many speculations as to why he feels this way about his squad, though Matosas leaves each to draw their own conclusions:

1. Perhaps it´s just a warning, for everyone. For the small group of fans, who have started to show their disgust at the fact Leon could be left without any honors, eliminated from both the Copa Libertadores and the Liga MX playoffs.

2. And for some players who have lost their spark (Mauro Boselli, Matias Britos, Sebastian Maz). Likewise, for others it may be that they have lost their implacable ability to play good football -- perhaps exhausted by their added inclusion in the Mexican national squad.

3. For the coaches. The big dogs of the soccer world require a bit more effort, in addition to more motivation. This is particularly true when trying to avoid the epidemic of player overexertion, which only Hugo Sanchez was able to avoid with his Pumas squad, despite several players having been run into the ground.

4. Finally, and least likely, though not impossible, is the possibility that, as rumors have it, the seductive power and the millions of America and Monterrey could have weakened the Leon coach´s commitment to his team. This is despite having said "I want to retire here" only a few months ago.

For the same reasons that Matosas´ competitiveness is praised when decisive, he should also be praised for what he has done this past season for Leon.

Is it Leon´s loss? Without a doubt. In fact, should he aspire to work abroad it would be a loss for Mexican soccer.

Matosas should be thanked, not only for his work at Leon, but for what he has done to Mexican soccer as a whole. Obviously no one is perfect and Matosas is no exception. No doubt he also makes errors in judgment as does every human being:

1. His proposal. To play to win, a commendable feat, but then to go beyond that and attempt to thrash every opponent demonstrates a fascinating sense of recklessness, which meets with the greatest of all soccer rituals, that of the spectacle.

2. His ability to recruit. He set up his current Leon squad with the scraps from Pachuca. He rummaged around in places where Pachuca had failed to look. Just take a look at the likes of: Carlos "Gullit" Pena, Jose Juan Vazquez, Luis Montes and Elias Hernandez. He was even instrumental in Rafa Marquez´s comeback.

3. Despite knowing the economic power that Leon holds, with Carlos Slim as their owner, Matosas has never taken advantage of this. He has not bought outlandishly expensive players, nor has he threatened to leave unless he gets a new contract, even though his current one is still in force.

It would be a shame for Leon to beat Flamengo in the deciding game of the Copa Libertadores, moving forward only to have their coach throw a serious spanner in the works by jumping ship. Especially after Matosas himself was the one that lead them to dream of the possibilities available in the South American tournament.

Nevertheless, I still believe this is just an outburst, an escape for the frustration that he must have felt having lost vital points during the game against Queretaro. A game that, despite the fact Leon were all over Queretaro, ended in a disappointing 1-1 draw.

If so, then perhaps this will go down as just a temperamental outburst without any major consequences. Yet, clearly there is no smoke without fire. Behind these words lies a true sense of frustration with the current mess.

Tim Vickery Column: The politics behind Brazil’s 1970 World Cup triumph and how it shaped Brazilian sports journalism

Thirty four years ago, as those stunning images were coming in from the Mexico World Cup, some on the political left in Brazil were anxiously hoping their team would lose.

Pele and his marvellous supporting cast were bewitching the entire planet with the quality of their play, but these artists and intellectuals could hardy bear to watch. Their problem – that Brazil’s military dictatorship was making political capital out of the team.

It was exactly fifty years ago that the military seized power. Until recently even some official documents referred to the events of March 31st and April 1st 1964 as a ‘revolution’ – an absurdly grandiose term for a squalid, grubby little soldiers’ coup; more proof, as if any were needed, that in societies containing huge wealth differentials the military exist as much to repress their own people as to defend the country’s borders.

As tinpot, goonish military plotters go, the first lot in 1964 were relatively mild. But history teaches time and time again; once you start down the road of authoritarian solutions, the inevitable tendency is for an increase in authoritarianism.

The more liberal of the tinpot, goonish plotters were too stupid to see it coming, but it should be no surprise that there was a ‘coup within a coup.’ By 1968 the hardline had seized power and suspended all political rights. Repression may not have reached the scale later hideously practiced in Chile, Argentina and Uruguay; but these self-proclaimed saviours of Western Christian values used torture and murder to achieve their aims.

A grotesque slogan sums up the era – ‘Brazil, love it or leave it.’ No questioning, no curiosity, no argument, and if you don’t like it, get out. The generals saw the national football team as fine ambassadors, happy, smiling and successful representatives of a country, according to the official propaganda, which was moving forward together.

In response, as we have seen, many on the left could not bear the thought of Brazil winning the 1970 World Cup. One young journalist took a different position.

Juca Kfouri was on the left, and he was also a football fan, a devoted supporter of Corinthians. His logic was simple and inescapable; the military dictatorship have taken so many things away from us, he thought, that I am not going to let them appropriate football. The game, and Brazil’s prowess in it, belongs to the people, and not to these latter day lords of misrule. There was no inherent contradiction in cheering on the team and hoping for the end of the military government.

Kfouri’s capacity to grasp this elementary truth launched a powerful journalistic career, one in which football is both celebrated as a cultural phenomenon in its own right, and also used didactically to examine defects in Brazilian society.

A common theme in his thinking is the ‘despite’ clause; that Brazil have won World Cups because of the talent of the players and the application of the coaches, but despite the deficiencies of those who organise the game.

It is a line of argument that has ‘won’ him some powerful enemies, but which has also given him considerable moral authority. And perhaps most importantly, his example has ensured that this critical, socially minded approach is a part of Brazilian sports journalism. And that, 50 years after the triumph of the tinpot, goonish plotters, is something to be celebrated.

Tim Vickery Column: On the trail of Brazil’s 1982 team

This is a big week coming up; for the Brazilian teams in the Libertadores, for example. Gremio have already, and very impressively too, made sure of their slot in the knock out phase, and so have Atletico Mineiro – now re-enforced by Nicolas Anelka (more on that next week). Cruzeiro look to have saved themselves with last week’s win away to Universidad de Chile, but Atletico Paranaense, Flamengo and Botafogo are caught in a dogfight.

It is also a big week for a TV project I am involved in; a documentary on Brazil’s much loved 1982 World Cup team. The completed programme should hit your screens a couple of weeks before the World Cup – it is being made for FIFA, and will be offered to all broadcasters who are owners of the 2014 transmission rights.

Our completion deadline is fast approaching. These are the final few days in which we can do interviews. So far we have swept up most of the players – and have plenty of archive footage of Socrates, who is sadly is no longer with us.

It looks as if time has run out on chasing right back Leandro, and also centre forward Serginho. But there is one sector of the team that has not yet been covered, and needs urgent attention over the next few days – the central midfielders.

Cerezo is in Japan; we have sent over questions to be put to him there and have set up the interview. But I will be unable to conduct the process as I would like if we were face to face – which makes this week’s trip down to Porto Alegre especially important. We are going to meet Falcao, the ‘king of Rome,’ the elegant midfield presence who so typified that 1982 team.

One of the great ironies of the process is that Falcao had not played for Brazil for some time before joining up with the squad on the eve of the tournament. The fact that he was playing for Roma meant that he was not available for the qualifiers – and so one of the players who is seen as a symbol of 1982 had to be re-integrated into the team at the last minute.

This is an interesting line of questioning – how was he accepted by the group? Did his international experience proffer on him a role of leadership in the dressing room? Did he warn his team-mates about the threat offered by Italy before that fateful 3-2 defeat?

But even more interesting from my point of view are his thoughts about the consequences of Brazil’s early elimination, especially in terms of his central midfield position.

The striking thing about the performances of the 1982 team is the circulation of the ball. There was very little dribbling – only in the last few metres of the field. Player after player has stressed that coach Tele Santana was firmly opposed to dribbling in the middle of the field, which he saw as an invitation to the opponent’s counter-attack. Instead, the ball moves, hypnotically and beautifully, from sector to sector. And always at the heart of it are the two central midfielders, Falcao and Cerezo, who stamp their authority on the game with the range of their passing and the audacity of their movement.

This was always a vital part of the Brazilian game. Think, for example, of how defensive midfielder Zito scores the decisive goal in the 1962 World Cup final against Czechoslovakia with a move that takes him from one penalty box to the other. Or his successor Clodoaldo, pushing forward to hit home the vital equaliser against Uruguay in the 1970 semi final, and then waltzing his way through the Italy midfield at the start of the move that leads to that famous Carlos Alberto goal in the final.

But Zito and Clodoaldo were also holders – far more so than either Falcao or Cerezo. In 1982 Brazil’s specialist defensive midfielder was Batista, and he was not even on the bench for that game against Italy.

The conclusion, even reached by Tele Santana in the 1986 World Cup, was that Brazil would have to tighten up in the middle of the pitch – and so began the process whereby they started selecting centre backs to offer cover in front of the centre backs, protecting the forward bursts of the full backs, but renouncing the opportunity to elaborate from centrefield as the 1982 team did so wonderfully.

Dorival Junior, who as a coach made his name with the Neymar-Paulo Henrique Ganso Santos side of 2010, argues that in the obsession to spring the full backs, Brazilian football has forgotten how to pass the ball through the middle of the field.

The great Tostao blames Brazil’s recent conception of midfield play for the fact that Ganso has so far come nowhere near fulfilling the expectations that were constructed around him; “He should have been prepared, all the way through the youth ranks, to play from one penalty box to the other, marking and attacking as do the great talents in this position, such as Schweinsteiger, Kroos, Xavi, Iniesta, Thiago Alcantara, Yaya Toure, Modric, Pirlo and others. But the midfield in Brazil has been divided into those who mark and those who attack, and players such as Ganso have been squeezed out.”

Tostao accepts that a change is on the way, with the likes of Paulinho, Hernanes and Ramires capable of both marking and attacking, but he still feels that Brazil is lagging behind in this area. And surely he has a point. 1982 should have inspired subsequent generations of Falcaos and Cerezos. Instead, it is hard to find them here in Brazil. I can hardly wait to delve into such issues with Paulo Roberto Falcao.

Uruguay Football Association board resigns amid fears crisis could cost team place at World Cup

Uruguay´s Football Association (AUF) board resigned on Tuesday (AEDT) amid a crisis which media reports said could rob the national team of a place at the World Cup.

The reason behind the move appears to be the Uruguayan government´s decision to withdraw police protection at matches involving the country´s big clubs Penarol and Nacional because of violence by their "barras bravas" hardcore fans.

"The well publicised acts that have occurred in recent times show the need for (the AUF board to take) a step to one side and allow other political views to govern our football," AUF president Sebastian Bauza´s resignation letter said.

Leading newspapers El Pais and El Observador said on their websites that FIFA might interpret Uruguayan President Jose Mujica´s decision as interference in football affairs and suspend the AUF and the Uruguay team from competition.

But Eugenio Figueredo, the president of South American football´s governing body CONMEBOL, said that he knew of no FIFA investigation into the AUF.

Figueredo, a Uruguayan, said he did not believe there was any risk of 2010 semi-finalists Uruguay not playing at the World Cup in neighbouring Brazil that kicks off on June 12.

"I´m totally unaware (of this FIFA story). The truth is I have no news from CONMEBOL or FIFA," Figueredo said in a telephone interview from Chile where he was on a visit. "You can´t draw conclusions from a rumour.

"When governments intervene, a national association is provisionally suspended (by FIFA)... But I have no proof the government played a part in Bauza´s exit," added Figueredo, who heads the Paraguay-based CONMEBOL.

"The World Cup is already on top of us. Can you imagine a national association being suspended (now) for an internal or sports politics matter? FIFA is a bit more serious.

"I don´t think Uruguay´s place at the World Cup is at risk."

Mujica withdrew police protection after the latest violent incident when Nacional fans fought with police at the end of their team´s 4-2 home defeat by Argentina´s Newell´s Old Boys in a Libertadores Cup match in Montevideo last Thursday (AEDT).

There were 40 arrests and several police officers and supporters were injured.

Bauza had differences with several club presidents over issues including television revenue from World Cup qualifiers and the AUF´s reaction to Mujica´s decision.

The government ruling led to the suspension of Penarol´s first division match at Miramar Misiones at the weekend.

The Uruguayan team, which boasts the likes of Liverpool´s Luis Suarez and Paris St Germain forward Edinson Cavani, is scheduled to play in Group D in Brazil alongside Italy, England and Costa Rica.

Here we go again!

Wait a minute, wait a minute… didn’t we already go through this in 2009? Apparently the lesson didn’t take. Sebastian Bauza, AUF president and the entire executive council resigned in a shock move that follows some horrible decision-making from all parties involved including José Mujica, the Uruguayan President and Nobel Peace Prize candidate.

What Happened?

“Mujica abruptly withdrew police protection from the home stadiums of Penarol and Nacional, the country’s most popular teams, on Thursday after Nacional’s fans injured 40 police officers in post-game violence the night before.” so says an AP report but according to Reuters, this is what occurred, “Mujica withdrew police protection after the latest violent incident when Nacional fans fought with police at the end of their team’s 4-2 home defeat by Argentina’s Newell’s Old Boys in a Libertadores Cup match in Montevideo last Wednesday.”

Which led to this…

“The federation and its clubs decided to play Saturday’s games anyway, but the players pulled out on Sunday, saying they won’t be safe without police.” said an AP report, because police protection for the players could no longer be guaranteed, The players union, aka la Mutual Uruguaya de Futbolistas Profesionales, ordered a work stoppage – probably the smartest thing ever done by a players union in light of the horrible decisions taken by Bauzá, Nacional President Eduardo Ache, Peñarol President Juan Pedro Damiani and the President of the Republic José Mujica.

What Bauzá claims…

In a four point letter, the Executive Council outlined the vague reasons why they are resigning but largely put the blame on the “Political-Institutional” conditions that are preventing Uruguay’s football from moving forward. Strange letter, made even stranger by the fact that since the Summer Clasico, which resulted in the suspension of 9 players from both Nacional and Peñarol, Uruguay’s AUF has allowed the Government to mete out suspensions – which culminated in this bizarre intervention by Mujica’s government to NOT police Uruguay’s domestic league matches involving Peñarol and Nacional. Can you imagine if Sunday’s derby between Boca Juniors & River Plate did not have a police presence?

Biggest Losers:

Sebastian Bauzá – an ineffective President despite what the National Team has achieved in the last 4 years, stood behind as Uruguay’s domestic league came undone – finally allowed Uruguay’s government to get involved in football affairs… a big no-no in the land of FIFA.

José Mujica – His move to remove the police from Primera matches is irresponsible to say the least.

Will Uruguay be suspended from the World Cup?

This rumor is spreading like wildfire in Uruguay but according to a Reuters report: “Eugenio Figueredo, the president of South American football’s governing body CONMEBOL, told Reuters that he knew of no FIFA investigation into the AUF… I’m totally unaware (of this FIFA story). The truth is I have no news from CONMEBOL or FIFA,” Figueredo said in a telephone interview from Chile where he was on a visit. “You can’t draw conclusions from a rumour.”

What’s next?

Since this Blog has been around, AUF presidents being fired, quitting or “replaced” is nothing new – in fact in 2009, Uruguay’s AUF went through three presidents in 3 months. What FIFA might do is kindly warn Mujica’s government not to get involved in football affairs via the old “if you keep this up, we’ll suspend you” warning letter – suspension is possible despite what Figueredo claimed but Mujica knows the value of football despite claiming he doesn’t really care for it much, if Uruguay is suspended from the World Cup, there’s no doubt his government would suffer greatly.

Welcome to the mother of all crises

One of the great certainties about life in Uruguay is that, well, there are no certainties. Instead, everywhere you look, there are ambiguities, complexities, idiosyncracies and shades of grey. Only in Uruguay could the Estadio Charrua, which supposedly pays homage to the country’s indigenous peoples, be situated in, of all places, the Parque Rivera: named after the man more responsible than anyone else for their extermination.

And maybe only in Uruguay could a crisis this complex, this convoluted, involving this many different actors, have developed: to the point whereby it’s now threatening to engulf the sport. As they say in Uruguay, es una rosca. As they say in England, it is one great big unholy mess.

A mess centred upon big TV money and violence in football; on power plays and populism; on the endemic links in this country between its national sport (sorry, its national religion) and its political leaders; and which, in an election year, has taken down the best, cleanest, least corrupt leader of the AUF in generations. Sadly, Sebastian Bauza and his Executive Council are likely to be only the initial fall guys of this crisis. The game has barely even kicked off yet.

Hooliganism has plagued Uruguayan club football for many years now. Once upon a time, families could watch Peñarol and Nacional in safety and confidence; but those days have long since passed. Instead, the club game has mutated ever more towards its Argentinian counterpart: increasingly lawless, dangerous to watch or at times even to participate in, ineptly policed, and controlled by ruthless, wealthy club Presidents and media moguls on the one hand; the Barras Bravas on the other.

Hooliganism and Uruguayan football have gone hand in hand for a long time now
Caught in the middle has been a very well-meaning but hopelessly weak, impoverished association: which to its immense credit, has endeavoured to wrest power away from the country’s biggest, most self-interested clubs; establish continuity, stability and a conveyor belt for the national team at all levels; sort out the grassroots structure of the game here; and perhaps above all, even to isolate the always lurking, ever insidious presence of one Francisco ‘Paco’ Casal. Given the odds it faced, the failure of Bauza’s Executive Committee was surely always inevitable; but the fall-out from its departure will be grim indeed.

It’s easy to assume that the origins of this crisis lay in the veritable (though largely unreported) party which awaited scores of Nacional fans at the hands of local hooligans after their side’s 4-0 defeat away to Newell’s Old Boys in February; following which, they vowed revenge. Certainly, this was a key factor which caused the return match to be moved to the Estadio Centenario; as the authorities sought in vain to maintain some degree of control.

Yet in truth, it’s much more complex and goes back far, far further than that. Because as readers of these pages will know, it’s not only Nacional supporters who’ve disgraced themselves in recent times. So have Peñarol’s; so have Danubio’s; so even have many players for the Manyas and Bolsos: including, most recently, during a friendly for heavens sake.

And so, for that matter, have those in charge of the Big Two as well. You’d think, wouldn’t you, that as historic standard bearers of the Uruguayan game, Peñarol and Nacional would display at least a modicum of responsibility for the hooligans amongst their support; demonstrate at least a degree of regard for the overall health of the sport here; have a long term strategy for the future too? But neither do.

Instead, both are consumed by petty politics and chronic short-termism: kowtowing to the thugs amongst their followers, and pursuing greedy power-grabs for themselves, regardless of the consequences. In short, their behaviour is that of two bald men fighting over a comb.

So it was that, as El Tanque Sisley’s match with Peñarol was moved to the Centenario on grounds of security, the response of Nacional President,
Eduardo Ache, wasn’t to acknowledge the peculiar circumstances and deepening crisis of violence facing the authorities. Oh no. Instead, it was to complain bitterly of unfair treatment. Why should we have to visit Wanderers, pondered Ache, while the Manyas are granted an extra home game? Why, he might’ve added, have their hooligans been rewarded – but not ours?

As a minimum, Ache’s comments – in which he piled opprobrium onto the AUF and especially the police – upped the ante at the most sensitive of moments. It’s not difficult to conclude that, ahead of the grudge return match with Newell’s, many Nacional fans will have thought to themselves: “Hey – here’s a perfect way of guaranteeing our team constant home games for the rest of the year too!” The rest was disgrace.

Yet the real reason for Ache’s wrath had considerably less to do with football than we might assume. This, of course, is an election year; and he is on the right wing of the Partido Colorado. For many years now, the clarion call of opposition politicians has been “insecurity, insecurity!”: wailing how things have never been worse, lambasting a desperately poorly trained, inadequately resourced police force.

Here, then, was an opportunity to undermine an association which had dared to maintain a semblance of equal power amongst all top division clubs and was threatening to do Nacional out of the TV riches it craved; curry favour amongst the followers, both violent and non-violent, of his club; and gain votes by drawing attention to the failings of the police. As any good populist would, he seized it.

Not, mind you, that the behaviour of Nacional’s bitter rivals has been any better. During the ill fated Copa Antel match I mentioned above, many Manya players seemed intent on apeing the thugs watching them on the terraces: no football please, we’re Peñarol. And of course, the club itself has been involved in a protracted battle over recent months with CONMEBOL, regarding its handling of continental television rights. Peñarol v CONMEBOL; Juan Pedro Damiani v Eugenio Figueredo; Tenfield and Gol TV v Fox Sports.

In presenting a petition of criminal complaint against CONMEBOL, signed by 7 fellow Uruguayan clubs (though significantly, not Nacional), Peñarol began to incur the decided displeasure of FIFA; and further destabilised the precarious situation facing Bauza back home.

For Bauza has made every attempt to distance his association and the Uruguayan game as a whole from Casal’s nefarious, threatening, tyrannical grip. Unable to find other viable options, the AUF has not been able to remove Tenfield’s influence completely – Realpolitik has generally prevailed instead – but during this four year glory run of La Celeste, the formerly ubiquitous Paco has been nowhere to be seen. Until, that is, now.

Because Casal has at least had the sense to remain close to President Jose Mujica, a man so in thrall to rags to riches stories that one sometimes wonders whether he’d have viewed Pablo Escobar as a sweet, innocent, poor boy made good; and late this year, with the economy here beginning to hit trouble and the peso falling at an increasing rate, the Frente Amplio have an election to win.

Thus was the Minister of Tourism and Sport, Hector Lescano, a key ally of Bauza in his battle with Casal, and proponent of transparency in television rights, suddenly ejected from his post by Mujica in May 2012 with little credible explanation.

Lescano had sought to stop third party ownership of players, a monumental blight on the game here; and prevent intermediaries from simultaneously pursuing sports broadcasting for profit. It was pretty obvious who this brave, commendable man had in his sights in all this.

And thus was Casal reportedly behind the group of eight or nine clubs who threatened a vote of no confidence against Bauza’s increasingly embattled administration in February. Why? Because of Bauza’s desire to remove the clause allowing Tenfield to match the best bid for the 2018 World Cup; and indeed, for the AUF to wrench control over Uruguayan football and image rights back from Casal.

The last time the association had clashed with Tenfield over TV rights, Casal had threatened Bauza. Already out in the cold in CONMEBOL, he was not about to be lose his domestic power base as well. With the Executive Committee under attack from all sides, the walls were now closing in.

What, though, of Mujica? What of the accusations of government interference over recent days, which sent everyone into such a panic following Bauza’s fall on Monday? To understand the relationship between politics and football here, you have to understand Uruguayan society itself. Football and society are inextricably linked in a manner maybe unparalleled anywhere else in the world.

Every man and his dog has an opinion on La Celeste; the entire country comes to a complete halt whenever the team plays a match; and with the political parties only a representation of the society which they are drawn from, inevitably, many politicians are heavily involved in the sport: some for good; others, not so good.

Mujica, of course, has often expressed studied disinterest in this mere game; but like any politician, he’s always known which side his bread’s buttered on. As long as Paco is around, Pepe and his party will always play ball. Thus came the fateful decision to withdraw the police from the Centenario and Gran Parque Central last weekend: made, I think, for two reasons.

The first was to effectively remove any remaining ground from underneath Bauza: but not, contrary to the rumours which spread like wildfire following the latter’s departure, in a way so overt that it would incur FIFA’s divine disdain. The second, though, was even more cynical: and a horrendous reflection of the ideas of those in prominent positions in his government.

Around the world, it’s naturally been assumed that the police were withdrawn in order to protect them: that this represented the final measure of a government exhausted by the violence endemic in the country’s footballing scene, and seeking to safeguard its forces in any way it could. Yet I rather suspect the opposite to be the case. For in the aftermath of the dreadful scenes at the Centenario exactly a week ago, the media’s attention was as much on alleged police over-reaction and apparent brutality as the behaviour of the home supporters.

To place this in context: last year, video footage of a shoot-out in Pocitos, in which Carlos Rodriguez, a policeman, was shot dead in cold blood, was televised on news programmes. It revealed the police to be hopelessly ill trained and ill equipped; yet the response of Eduardo Bonomi, this country’s ludicrous apology for an Interior Minister, was to declare that they had in fact been “adequately armed”, and to complain once more of media sensationalism.

Sadly, this was only in keeping with a government which routinely fails to arm or pay its police force remotely properly – to the extent that police officers invariably end up living alongside criminals, who threaten them and their families if they try to do their jobs – refuses on point of principle to imprison or properly punish any murderer under the age of 18; and has even been known to blame murders and violent crime on the ‘consumer society’: because ‘the poor want things too’.

So absurd is this mentality, held by old men like Bonomi (a former academic), or Mujica (who has never held a non-political job, never had children, and appears not to harbour the remotest conception of the actual impact of many of his government’s policies on the people), that the administration here often seems awfully close to siding with criminals; or at least, with the poor. Because the latter represents its core constituency; and from the latter, most of the hooligans plaguing Uruguayan football are derived too.


Thus by withdrawing the police last weekend, Mujica could also appear in some strange way to be sympathising with the ‘victims’ of apparent ‘police brutality’. It even goes a long way towards explaining why the government has essentially done nothing about hooliganism for so long. Politics here really are that strange.

All of which brings us back to the complaints of Ache: who has played and is playing politics every bit as much as his sworn enemy, Mujica. And it also brings us to the future. Post-Bauza, what now?

Well, there is one piece of good news. The idea that, two months out from a World Cup in which Uruguay hope to recapture the glories of 1950, FIFA will now kick out one of the tournament’s biggest drawcards is patently absurd.

First, there is no direct evidence that government interference brought Bauza down: instead, as I’ve explained, it’s only indirect, largely circumstantial, and more a consequence of how enmeshed this sorry saga is than anything else. And second, Bauza’s administration did things so differently, so much more transparently, than most other associations in this continent that FIFA will probably be pleased that he’s gone.

But the prognosis beyond that could scarcely be more bleak. Whether overtly or covertly, Ache will now either take control of the AUF or enjoy far greater influence within it than hitherto: as, in all likelihood, will his club, which may join the so-called ‘Group of 7′ smaller clubs who endeavoured to bring Bauza’s Committee down in February. If it does, the power which these clubs will wield within the newly formed executive will be considerable, with many changes in the structure of the game here – most of them based on self-interest – likely to follow.

Casal will remain isolated in CONMEBOL, but be hugely boosted in Uruguay: and his influence will grow exponentially as a result. Those of us who recall the appalling cliques and divided, horribly under-achieving Celeste squads when he last enjoyed such eminence can only fear the worst.

Any prospect for a more holistic, bottom-up approach to the sport here has now gone; nothing will be done about hooliganism either. And above all, the calm, restraining influence of a moderate, enlightened administration charged with keeping the peace in one of the most internecine footballing environments anywhere in the world – an environment which, as I hope this article has demonstrated, amounts to a spider’s web of competing interests in all areas of Uruguayan society – has disappeared for good.
A good man is gone from Uruguayan football. Exit Bauza: no doubt muttering to himself, “Après moi, le déluge”.

No, Paco: The Mother Of All Crises, Part 2

For almost 30 years, Francisco ‘Paco’ Casal has been the Great Survivor of Uruguayan football. First as an agent, then as a super-agent, then through his network of television companies, his presence has dominated the sport: controversial, shadowy, divisive; but always impossible to ignore. Unable to live either with or without him, football in this country has been beholden to his largesse for many years; but not, perhaps, for much longer.

Until very recently, this entirely self-made entrepreneur and one-man revolution had always chosen his battles – and his enemies – extremely wisely: rising to the top of the sport almost unnoticed off the back of the success of the national team and the two giants of the Uruguayan club game during the 1980s; consolidating his power in the 1990s, as the game here deteriorated in tandem with the economy and broader society, and the mass export of players overseas was effectively institutionalised under his watch; and critically, together with Enzo Francescoli and Nelson Gutierrez, successfully capturing the exclusive television and image rights for both the Uruguayan league and national team for their newly formed company, Tenfield, in 1998.

That highly controversial deal – in which Tenfield were outbid by rivals Bersabel by fully $32m, yet still won the rights because of supposed “added value” – represented the final piece in the jigsaw for the man born in Sao Paulo. Casal already controlled most top Uruguayan footballers; now, he effectively had the association and the clubs under his increasingly monied thumb too.

Ever since, he’s been one part saviour, two parts jailer; with an increasingly troubled, impoverished domestic game ever more dependent upon him; the national team, during the period prior to its dramatic resurgence over the last four years, suffering heavily under his many demands; and even the AUF finding itself threatened when, under Sebastian Bauza’s guidance, it endeavoured to finally begin loosening his ironclad grip.

Yet now the man whom, since he first emerged onto the scene, has outlasted six Uruguayan Presidents, 11 AUF Presidents, 14 Celeste coaches, and even survived an abortive, hugely drawn out investigation into his tax affairs, may finally have bitten off more than he can chew. It’s one thing being lord of the manor of a small country like Uruguay; quite another trying to take on an entire continental confederation, CONMEBOL, under the unforgiving, watchful eyes of Eugenio Figueredo and above all, Julio Grondona. Suddenly, the hunter has become the hunted.

Figueredo, of course, was AUF President when Tenfield won the television rights – but by the time he succeeded Nicolas Leoz as President of CONMEBOL last year, he and Casal appear to have become ex-friends. The latter had been attempting to expand his power base, and gain a foothold in televising CONMEBOL’s events for a number of years previously, but to no avail. Perhaps he believed that Figueredo’s accession would help clear his path; perhaps not.

Regardless, when CONMEBOL rejected an enormous bid by Casal’s Global Sports (incorporating GolTV) for the rights to its flagship Copa Libertadores and Sudamericana tournaments, massively in excess of that offered by its incumbent TV partner, the Argentinian company, T&T – doing to Casal precisely what he and the AUF had done to Bersabel 15 years earlier – open warfare was now declared.

The key to understanding Casal’s rise lies in his growing power – even, in terms of Uruguay, omnipresence – having helped enrich scores and scores of top footballers. Thus Francescoli, Gutierrez and Daniel Fonseca became natural allies of his; so did many other successful Uruguayan internationals. What was rather less expected, though, was that in the common cause of attacking CONMEBOL’s habitual neglect of the sport across South America, Casal would also be able to call upon figures such as Diego Maradona, Romario, or Jose Luis Chilavert. Given such an array of dazzling players in his camp, it was plain that Paco meant business; indeed, he even seemed to mean revolution.

So it was that last December, only weeks after Casal had celebrated his most important victory ever in seeing off the Uruguayan tax authorities (a decision which must, surely, have left him feeling indestructible), he fatally overreached himself: blundering into the most disastrous miscalculation of his long career, and setting off a domino of events which are still ongoing.

Eight Uruguayan clubs – El Tanque Sisley, Cerro Largo, Cerro, Rentistas, Miramar Misiones, Racing, Juventud, but far and away most eye-catchingly of all, Peñarol – signed a petition of criminal complaint against CONMEBOL, alleging serious misappropriation of funds. 15 years after his dad, Jose Pedro, had decisively swung the contest for Uruguayan TV rights in favour of Casal, Juan Pedro Damiani now did his bit to achieve the same across South America. Like father, like son? This, as Juan Pedro very quickly discovered, was un harina de otra costal entirely.

To take on CONMEBOL would imperil the future participation of his club in the Libertadores; and especially, incur the distinct displeasure of Grondona: a man whose tyrannical control of Argentinian football over the past three and a half decades makes Casal look like a pygmy; and whose association’s world record breaking, seemingly never-ending TV contract with TyC (part of T&T, who also act as FOX Sports’ representatives in South America) makes Tenfield’s deal with the AUF appear a veritable picnic.

As this excellent piece explains, Don Julio’s elephantine tentacles are everywhere to be found throughout Argentinian football: in its television coverage, in the printed press, perhaps even among referees. To denounce him or anything related to him, as Daniel Lalin, former President of Racing Club did, is to risk excommunication and banishment; and just as it is with the AFA, so it is with both CONMEBOL and even FIFA itself. The real power behind Leoz’ enfeebled leadership was always Grondona; much the same applies with Figueredo; it may even be true of Sepp Blatter as well.

To provide a brief anecdote of what Uruguayans believe about the extent of Grondona’s influence: in the weeks leading up to the World Cup draw, I lost count of how many people I spoke to who were utterly convinced that, thanks to him, Argentina would get everything they wanted. The easiest group, the kindest conditions, a cakewalk of a projected path through the knock-out stages.

And so it proved, to an extent which seems barely credible: so much so that Uruguayans – always conspiratorial, but often not without good reason to be so – are now inevitably on the look-out for favours being granted to the Albiceleste during the tournament as well.

For Casal to have picked a fight with such a man without even a sliver of the power base which Don Julio enjoys represented the most gargantuan misjudgement: akin to a mosquito trying to take down an elephant. In the famous words of Mick ‘Crocodile’ Dundee, “that’s not a knife. THAT’S a knife”.

None of this, incidentally, is to negate the very real grievances felt by the clubs; nor the chronic mismanagement and neglect of CONMEBOL. The links I’ve provided in this article set that out clearly and undeniably.

But for Casal, of all people, to now be found demanding transparency, justice and fair play suggested not merely sour grapes on his part; but that he now clearly fancied himself as a stand-up comedian. Despite his experience of swimming in shark-infested waters for so long, he had now made serious enemies of the wrong individuals; the repercussions of which are continuing apace.

At this point, perhaps it’s worth reminding ourselves of the extent to which a man who used to enjoy the respect, if never the love, of the Uruguayan footballing public has fallen out of favour here over the last decade and more. Already in evidence on the Uruguayan bench at the 1990 World Cup, and blamed by some for the tepid performances of the team, things would get worse, far worse, when La Celeste next qualified for the game’s greatest showpiece, in 2002.

There, Victor Pua’s squad was riven between Casal players and non-Casal players; with the sense of disunity and discord perfectly embodied by the strange case of Daniel Fonseca. Aged 32, the injury-prone Fonseca had not played for Uruguay since 1997; and since being jettisoned by Juventus in 2000, had made just five appearances in club football in two years. Yet to the absolute astonishment of the public and commentators alike, Pua recalled him: including him in his provisional squad.

As a result, the Uruguayan public spent the twelve days between this announcement and that of the final squad not debating La Celeste’s chances at the finals, nor excitedly discussing the prospects of this player or that player; but loudly fulminating against Pua – and even more against Casal.

Because Fonseca was a close personal friend of Casal’s, and went on to follow in his footsteps as an agent. Surely this could be the only reason behind his inclusion?

Eventually, Realpolitik prevailed, and Fonseca, then scorer of Uruguay’s last World Cup Finals goal 12 years earlier, was left out of the final squad. But any authority which Pua might’ve had over his team, or any credibility he enjoyed with the media or public, was gone for good.

A risible press conference, where Pua was forced to defend his handling of the situation, hardly helped matters. The public had suddenly woken up to the puppeteer pulling the strings; a man so obsessed with the bottom line that he even seemed prepared to undermine the prospects of their beloved national team.

No-one else could understand what was going on up there either, Victor.
All of this was occurring against the backdrop of a rapidly mounting economic and political crisis in Uruguay. The great financial crash – which even today, remains by far the most pivotal, watershed event in this country’s post-dictatorship history – was only weeks away. The one and only thing most Uruguayans had to look forward to was the World Cup; yet now, Paco was prepared to imperil that too?

The subsequent two and a half performances, in which Uruguay were by turns tactically naive, cravenly cowardly, then comprehensively outplayed, only added further fuel to the fire; but then, something remarkable happened. In the second half against Senegal, La Celeste at last remembered what La Garra Charrua actually meant; a breathtaking fightback resembling a force of nature taking them desperately close to a miraculous place in the second round.

That day, something truly fundamental changed. The world shifted on its axis. Uruguay didn’t merely restore their pride, and give their people something to cling onto amid increasingly hellish times; they also showed what might’ve been possible if only they hadn’t been so riven by introspection and division to begin with. This shift in the team would then be dramatically mirrored by Uruguayan society in the years following the crash, as politics here changed irrevocably, and a focus on the common good at last began to return. But this was bad news – very bad news – for Paco Casal.

Here, the seeds were being sown not merely of Uruguayan football’s sudden re-emergence eight years later; nor of an association which, also some years afterwards, would belatedly begin to rediscover values of common sense, stability and long term thinking. Remarkably enough, at this exact time – June 2002 – the Direccion General Impositiva, perhaps fortified by the collapse in Casal’s public position after Fonseca-gate, began to investigate his tax affairs; and the government elected by popular acclaim two years later was prepared to go further: initially, at least.

Thus, as these pages noted last week, the new Minister for Tourism and Sport, Hector Lescano, sought transparency in TV rights, an end to third party control of footballers, and plainly had Casal firmly within his sights. Then the DGI opened a new, higher stakes case against him in 2008; then the Ministry of Economy and Finance began investigating the nature of Tenfield’s contract with AUF; and in September 2011, effectively found it to be illegal.
By this stage, of course, the national team was riding high on a wave of greater public popularity and international acclaim than at any point since the 1950s; and the AUF was under the calm stewardship of Bauza’s Executive Council. As ever, Casal would ultimately survive – and even regain surprising amounts of ground, as Lescano was abruptly removed, and President Mujica shocked most observers by closing the tax investigation into Tenfield; but the key point here lies in just how many enemies he clearly made throughout this period. Enemies who were merely biding their time and waiting for the right moment to strike.

And now, it would present itself. For Casal’s moment of madness in challenging Grondona and CONMEBOL suddenly exposed him on both flanks: domestically and internationally.

Over the last few months, Bauza – whose failure to support the rebel clubs in their dispute with CONMEBOL was a considerable factor in their attempt to remove him in February – sought to negotiate the rights for the 2018 World Cup not after Brazil, as Casal very much desired, but now.

Correctly, Bauza appreciated the very strong chance of their value falling if Uruguay do not at least match the remarkable achievements of 2010; and also endeavoured to at last wrest control over image rights back for his association.

This, of course, would be a disaster for Tenfield: hence Casal’s apparent support of the attempted no confidence vote; hence too, perhaps, the explosive sightings of Gutierrez entering the Presidential Tower on the day of Bauza’s resignation, March 31.

The meeting between Gutierrez and Mujica’s chief economic advisor would, rather laughably, be defended on the grounds of it having been pre-arranged long before (in which case, given the circumstances, why was it not postponed?); but in practice, amounted to a power play on the part of Casal. In February, 17 clubs had presented a letter to the Executive Committee withdrawing their confidence; and their failure to support Bauza’s efforts to negotiate the new TV deal before this summer’s World Cup rather suggested they were in Tenfield’s pockets instead. The sightings of Gutierrez only reinforced this – but also enraged a long time enemy of Casal’s: someone whose intervention would now prove decisive.

Danilo Astori, Vice-President of the Republic, had been exasperated by Mujica’s decision to close the case against Casal. So it was that on April 2, he broke ranks: denouncing Tenfield’s apparent interference in the governance of Uruguayan football, and bitterly lamenting its loss of sovereignty.

From Paraguay, CONMEBOL’s leaders looked on; and midway through that night’s meeting which would elect Bauza’s successor, struck a devastating blow: implementing punitive sanctions against the AUF. Astori’s comments had given them all the ammunition they needed: the confederation refused to fully recognise the new Executive Committee, citing the interference of a ‘contractor’. In other words, of Casal.

Entirely predictably, FIFA have now weighed in too: considering that CONMEBOL’s statutes have been violated by the AUF, making no mention of the interim Committee at all, and pointedly calling for the new Council, to be elected in July, to immediately resume adherence with these statutes.

Failure to do so would, it would appear, run the risk of many Uruguayan clubs being denied a FIFA licence. In effect, the governing body regard what has happened in rather the same way as Vladimir Putin viewed recent goings-on in Kiev. Namely: as an unconstitutional coup with no legitimacy, achieved thanks to the interference of other actors.

The AUF had until yesterday to appeal against its suspension; but from this juncture, it is almost impossible to see how it can do so successfully. While absolute, cast iron, smoking gun evidence of Tenfield’s interference may not exist, the decision of the clubs in December to challenge CONMEBOL has effectively lost them any benefit of the doubt which might otherwise have applied. This will not be a question of Figueredo and Grondona looking for any possible reason to remove the sanctions; but rather, thanks largely to Casal’s behaviour, the opposite.

Also during the AUF meeting on April 2, Astori spoke with Danubio President, Oscar Curutchet, the man everyone assumed would succeed Bauza; and advised him not to take up the position. At the time, this seemed curious, almost inexplicable; but the interpretation must now be that the Vice-President recognised that nothing worthwhile could be achieved by any new Committee over the next few months – indeed, that things for the AUF may well get much, much worse over the short term – so wanted to protect Curutchet, a potential reformer in Bauza’s image, for his own sake.

Oscar Curutchet, President of Apertura Champions, Danubio
Instead, the largely unknown Wilmer Valdez of Rentistas became the interim President: but his club had been among those which raised the criminal complaint against CONMEBOL; and had even been part of a FIFA investigation into the behaviour of Brazilian-based agent, Juan Figer.

More than that: as confirmed by Alejandro Balbi, Nacional Director and the AUF’s new General Secretary, when asked about the possibility of negotiating the new TV contract now, while the value is still high, Valdez’ risibly Panglossian response was: “If we become World Champions, they’ll pay us more”. Exactly the stance which, by some unfathomable coincidence, Casal and Tenfield would want the AUF to take.

Where, then, does this leave Casal; and for that matter, the whole of Uruguayan football? This column remains of the view that, as it concluded in the immediate aftermath of Bauza’s resignation, the ongoing crisis will not impact upon La Celeste’s chances in Brazil. Indeed, if AUF delegates have been able to agree one thing worthwhile, it’s on the need to protect the national team’s immediate prospects at all costs.

But beyond that: such has been the extent of Casal’s miscalculations and overstretch of recent times, there is a very serious danger of this turning into the greatest upheaval experienced by Uruguayan football in at least a generation. Thanks to incurring the wrath of both CONMEBOL and FIFA, Casal – and, for that matter, the largest clubs here – now find Grondona’s tanks parked all over their front lawn.

There must now be a strong likelihood of FOX expanding into Uruguay, dismantling Paco’s dominion in the process (but perhaps also removing any remaining vestiges of sovereignty which football here still holds); and of FIFA taking punitive sanctions against any club which does not immediately fall back into line following the AUF elections in July.

Those elections will be of paramount importance; for if someone of Bauza’s ilk is not chosen, things could become far, far messier than they already are. Last week, former President, Jorge Batlle, airily referred to recent events with the pithy “short war, one dead”; but the Mother Of All Crises – a televisual and political war being fought out on Uruguayan soil, but with international pipelines – has far, far further to travel yet. Bauza was its first victim; Casal, who in my judgement, now faces the most difficult battle for survival of his career, may well prove the ultimate one.

And if he does, nothing in Uruguayan football would ever be the same again.

Paraguay - Primera División - Apertura

Libertad x Nacional Asuncion 1-0

Tim Vickery Column: Could Nicolas Anelka be a success at Atletico Mineiro?

Where on earth is Nicolas Anelka? A week ago Atletico Mineiro president Alexandre Kalil announced on twitter than the veteran French striker was joining the club. But he has not turned up.

At the time of writing (Monday night) it would appear that he is in Kuwait, attending a religious event. Time is tight. The Brazilian championship kicks off this weekend. The following Wednesday Atletico are putting their Copa Libertadores title on the line, travelling to Medellin to face the dangerous Atletico Nacional of Colombia in the second round of this year’s tournament.

After Kalil’s assertion, Atletico might look a bit foolish if the move fails to go through. But might they also end up looking silly if he does end up coming to Belo Horizonte?

For a start there is the question of his ban, imposed by the English FA after the controversial quenelle gesture made in celebrating a goal scored for West Bromwich Albion. Does the ban still apply in a different country? And might Atletico regret associating themselves with a player who has behaved in this way? And putting aside for a minute these considerations, how might he be accommodated in the team?

This would clearly be a challenge for coach Paulo Autori. Atletico have had their success with a 4-2-3-1 formation, and it is not easy to see how to fit Anelka into this model of play.

Jo has done extremely well at centre forward – he was the top scorer of last year’s Libertadores and he won himself a (successful) recall to the national team. His place is surely guaranteed.

And at the veteran stage, even a player as physically gifted as Anelka might struggle to fit into the line of three behind the lone striker. For a start, Ronaldinho is already there, and he can hardly be expected to run around carrying out marking duties. If the team is to retain its balance then the other members of the line of three have to be prepared to drop deep and mark, and this would not appear to be the way to get the best out of Anelka.

Perhaps, then, the solution would lie in a switch to a 4-4-2, with space for both Jo and Anelka up front, and Ronaldinho behind them, perhaps at the head of a midfield diamond. Or maybe an old style Brazilian 4-2-2-2, with both Ronaldinho and Diego Tardelli featuring as attacking midfielders – though this could put a huge strain on the more defensive pair of midfielders.

Whatever the chosen system, it would need work on the training ground – and so every day that Anelka does not turn up is a day less for Autori to find a blend.

The instant reaction is that the incorporation of Anelka would be unlikely to work. But, in refutation, Atletico can point to recent history. We all said that it could not possibly work when they signed Ronaldinho, who had just been shown the door by Flamengo. He was a has-been – and it was a complete recipe for disaster when Ronaldinho was teamed up with Jo, a once promising player who had degenerated into a party animal.

The outcome? The two of them played vital roles as Atletico won the Libertadores, the most important title in the club’s history. The lesson? Never be too hasty to write off talent.

And Anelka, whatever one might think of him, is certainly a talent. There are plenty of giant clubs on his curriculum. It is easy to forget that he was at Chelsea as recently as two years ago. What he is not, however, is Clarence Seedorf.

Anelka could bring all of his skills and all of his big time experience to Belo Horizonte, and it would not transform him into a man as collectively minded as the current coach of Milan. In his time with Botafogo, Seedorf poked his nose into everything in his quest to improve the team; from training methods, to logistics to even a desire to change the words of the club anthem, Seedorf involved himself in all aspects of Botafogo. It is hard to imagine Anelka behaving in the same way, or having the same effect on his team-mates.

A week after declaring that Anelka was theirs, Atletico are currently refusing to answer questions about him. The big question mark, then, is whether or not he is still coming. The bigger – and probably more fascinating – one is whether the tropics might work their magic and bring a smile to the face of ‘le sulk.’