es, it is, in part, all about the money.
Professional soccer is a game of massive class disparities. Unburdened by salary caps, by any notion that there needs to be a level playing field or competitive balance, the rich stay rich, everybody else spends his time looking up.
Thanks to the system of cup competitions and promotion and relegation, there are all kinds of smaller victories that can be won – like Burnley taking a playoff this week to secure a (probably short) visit to the English Premier League – but at the very top, the teams that can afford to compete for the major championships dominate, and the faces are invariably familiar.
Most familiar of all is the ruddy Glaswegian mug of Sir Alex Ferguson, manager these past 23 years of the wealthiest sports franchise on the planet.
Today at Rome’s Stadio Olimpico, he leads Manchester United once more into a European Champions League final – this time against Barcelona – poised to win his third Cup. Last year, United beat Chelsea on penalties, thanks to John Terry’s unfortunate slip, and if it wins today, it will be the first club since AC Milan in 1990 to win back-to-back titles.
Barca, a super franchise in its own right and this year’s Spanish champions, obviously represents a formidable challenge. They employ the game’s brightest young talent, Argentine Lionel Messi, and for those who admire the club’s long-time progressive political leanings (instead of a paying corporate sponsor, for instance, they wear the logo of Unicef on their jerseys), there’s a natural rooting interest as it takes on Man U Inc.
But with Thierry Henry, Andres Iniesta and Rafael Marquez all injured to one degree or another, with Eric Abidal and Daniel Alves suspended for the match (that means three of the four first-choice defenders won’t be playing), they will be hard pressed against a United side that for one of the rare times during its marathon season, is almost entirely healthy. Rio Ferdinand pronounced himself match fit yesterday, and even the most casual fans understand what it means to have Wayne Rooney and Cristiano Ronaldo leading the attack – not to mention Carlos Tevez and Dimitar Berbatov in reserve.
An embarrassment of riches, the best soccer team that money can buy, a happy byproduct of being owned by the reclusive Glazer family, who are more than willing to spend (or borrow) to keep their club on top, and to keep the revenues flowing.
But none of that should take away from Ferguson’s accomplishments during his long tenure with the club, and especially during this marathon season, which, if he wins today, will arguably be the finest of his career.
Man U played a ridiculous schedule that began with preseason matches in mid-July, and included what must have been an exhausting detour to Japan during the Christmas break for the FIFA Club World Cup.
Ferguson’s team then won the English league (beating back a spirited challenge from Liverpool, and taking advantage of the failed Luis Felipe Scolari experiment at Chelsea), and may win the Champions League, though several times the side looked beaten up, ragged and nearly spent.
The talent is there, as it always has been during his tenure, but few coaches or managers in any sport have done a better job of managing egos, of facing down prima donna superstars. Ferguson has locked eyes with Roy Keane, tossed a shoe at David Beckham, kept a steady hand during the whole exasperating will-he-or-won’t-he of Ronaldo’s flirtation with Real Madrid, without ever once having his authority seriously questioned.
This year, every time it looked like United was finally played out, that Ferguson has finally hit a wall, the club and the manager showed the resilience of a vampire dodging a stake through the heart.
Sir Alex certainly isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. He is imperious in a way that would make any North American coach seem a modest, self-effacing shrinking violet by comparison. When he deigns to hold press conferences, they are more like papal audiences. He is not one to suffer fools or to suffer much of anyone else.
But he is awfully good at what he does. In the modern game, no one has done it better.
