Story Isle

There were about twenty minutes left. We were up one. A lot of teams would revert to cautionary tactics at this point. Juventus was simply a team far too dangerous in the attack to keep playing free flowing football with. But we were not other teams, neither were we scared of them. We prided ourselves on playing entertaining football, winning whilst having fun at it. To retreat and simply wait on our opponents barrage otherwise known as ‘parking the bus’ in defense would be viewed as cowardly by our fans. So we continued, dashing forward when the need presented itself and trying our best to keep Juventus from venturing into our goal area.

Sometimes despite one’s very best effort, it just isn’t good enough. We kept Milan at bay, but only for so long. They pressed and pressed, and kept throwing all they had at us. I give my teammates a lot of credit for they defended valiantly that day. Unfortunately it wasn’t enough. Kanewa was the recipient of a through ball, beating two defenders to calmly place the ball in the net with 15 minutes to go. Their fans erupted in a deafening roar. Ours could only stare on in shock, their silence just as profound as the reaction of their counterparts. We felt like we had just watched our magnificently built sand castle just get washed away by a surging wave.

Our mojo as some would call it, immediately went out the door. It’s hard to get your spirits up after you’ve played so hard, only to concede a goal by a momentary lapse of judgement. But yet, our woes were about to be compounded. Approximately 5 minutes after their equalizer, we were called for a hand ball foul in our penalty area and Juventus was awarded a penalty. Despite our furious protests, the referee refused to budge. The decision had been made and the penalty was to be taken. I couldn’t even look at Kanewa as he walked up to the spot. From the crowd’s reaction, I knew he had scored.

Words cannot begin to describe the emotions that were spreading through my body, and from the looks on my teammates faces, it wasn’t alien to just me. We had been up for most of the match, only to see our fortunes change hands in the span of five minutes. With such short time left, it would be a Herculean task scoring again or at least ending this game on a respectable note. Despite the obvious lack of enthusiasm, we were professionals and we knew what was at stake. In football one never gives up until the final minute and the ref blows his whistle for stoppage. I have seen some miraculous last gasp efforts that would put even the staunchest of pessimists to shame. Miracles occur often in this wonderful game that I call a job, and maybe Milan was due for one I thought to myself.

And so we set upon the task to score on Juventus whilst doing our best to keep them at bay. Not an enviable position to be, because they happen to be one of the toughest teams to beat. They had really good defenders but that wasn’t what made them so tough to score on. It was the fact that they were simply too good at holding on to the ball, passing and spreading it amongst themselves, dominating possession and preventing the other team from getting chances. They were so methodical in the way they played, quick precise passes, moving together in one hypnotic rhythm, like a wave slowly but surely advancing on all fronts till it reached the shore.

These guys could pass the ball for hours with the other team barely getting a chance. I had never seen anything like it in all my years of playing and I must admit, whilst mesmerizing from afar, up close it was nauseating. To run around chasing the ball, unsure of getting it, but nonetheless committing yourself to retrieving it because its all you can do to launch one last salvo. Things didn’t work out the way we were hoping, but the results were still beneficial to us. I have stated in the past that football can be quite unpredictable; you can never truly plan the outcome of a game. Such an occurrence was about to gift us with an outcome that many on Juventus’ side would be bitter about till today.

Juventus had the ball, with about a minute to go. They decided they would go on one last offensive, why they thought this was a good is beyond me. I suppose when you are quite confident in your offensive prowess you don’t need to worry about being cautious. They were on the edge of our box when Kanewa was brought down by my teammate.
I thought it was a fair tackle, he did go after the ball, but because of the position and how Kagewa fell, it looked like it should have been a foul. His teammates were temporarily stunned, hoping the referee would call it in their favor but instead play was allowed to continue. Whilst they were trying to argue what had just happened, we launched a quick counter attack. I raced down the field as another teammate of mine sped down the flanks with the ball. I knew he was going to cross it to the middle, I just didn’t want to mis-time it. There were only a few seconds left and we would never get a chance like this again. Most of Milan’s players were still behind by now realizing they weren’t getting the call, sprinting back to try and prevent our attack. There was only one guy trying to cover me, my eyes lit up seeing my advantage.

It was too little to late for Juventus, my teammate swiftly launched the ball with a perfect cross, guiding it onto my head which in turn directed it onto the net.

GOAL!

Mayday! Mayday! Yelled a desperate sailor into the mic, hoping that someone would hear their desperate cries for help. Alas it was too little too late for the remaining crew of the SS Barcelona, a once fabled battleship, now making what would undoubtedly be its final voyage, uncertainty on the horizon as its hull below was flooding with water. 

Its skilled captain and highly regarded leader had already jumped ship, leaving behind a few good men who refused to abandon their prized possession, the vehicle that had brought many a good fortune to them.

Their current dilemma had been brought about by an enemy from beneath the waves. A machine of Germany mastery and creativity, the Bayern Munichen, otherwise known as the terror of the seas, the once upstart now looking like the usurper to Barcelona’s throne.

For years, Barcelona had terrorized the European seas. Destroying any and all competition, laying down its own version of the law. One in which no one saw fit to challenge them. Try some did, from near and far. Everyone from their fellow Spaniards in Madrid, all the way to England, where interestingly enough, a surprising entity from the city of London was able to damage the SS Barcelona but not sink it. Perhaps this was the omen for what was to come, but many ignored this, in awe of how ‘Barca’ has it is fondly called, retooled and prepped for yet another tour of the seas.

If only the warning signs had been heeded. If only those in charge of running Barca had seen that their competition were just as motivated as they were to be crowned the best in Europe, then perhaps the arrogance of simply churning out the same battleship that dominated the landscape for a few years would simply not be good enough in this day and time.

Bayern sensing their strategy had not worked the past few years decided to change their approach. Opting for efficiency and stealth, carefully putting together a machine that would negate all of their opponents strengths. It paid off, as evidenced by the inevitable sinking of the SS Barcelona. Spear headed by the sage like Jupp Heynckes, Bayern is now on course to face their fellow rivals the BVB Dortmund, ironically another machine that has opted for efficiency rather than flair. Whilst one can only prognosticate how things may go, judging by the clinical method the Bayern destroyed the SS Barcelona, one would not be faulted to think they are the favorites in their matchup against the Dortmund side. It was quick and precise, the hits coming from all flanks. Destabilizing Barca’s defenses before they could thoroughly assess their attackers. Barca’s valiant hero ‘Lionel Messi’ was reduced to role of spectator. Eventually being one of the first to jettison ship in hopes of salvaging something to build on for the future. It’s too early to call what will happen from here on, but I suspect there will be a lot of introspection involved. The Catalan side is simply too proud and too talented to take this lying down. They will be back, but in what capacity?

As with all things in life, these reigns are quite temporal. The SS Barcelona being the testament to this. They dominated the landscape for a while, only for other challengers to come and put a dent in their plans. European rivalries force participants to continually bolster their sides. The ever changing landscape guarantees complacency will be punished. As I write this, on the back of the Munichen’s historic deposing of the SS Barcelona, sides are preparing for war. Armaments are being assembled, and war cries can be heard all over.

Welcome to the new world order.

Our respective clubs were considered the top two teams in world soccer. Our players dominated football awards and rankings. Our coaches were viewed as the top two in the game. Our rivalry became so intense, media networks and the Italian football association started scheduling our games on days more likely to get the highest viewership…and they did!

Match days between both sides literally shut the country down and maybe some parts of the world. To miss a Juventus - Milan match was similar to missing a life altering event, or so I was told. In Italy, very few things can replace the passion for sports and we just happened to be on top of the sports pecking order back then.

I was going into the season angry. I was frustrated with all the attention my counter part was garnering. I thought I had been snubbed when I had not won a single individual award the previous year, despite having pretty good individual stats. Granted he led me in pretty much every category, but still the fact that he was not European born made me more likely to win the European player of the year. Sadly, disappointment was to be my portion that year, as they gave the award to a teammate’s of Kanewa.

I remember standing on that podium, thinking of grabbing the trophy from said teammate and walking off the stage with what was rightfully mine. Reality dictated otherwise, as I had to stand there and force a fake smile, pretending to me a good sportsman when in fact I wanted to knock out all the people on stage.

I went home that day realizing the odds had been stacked against me. I am a competitor above all things and I wanted to win. I didn’t play the game to be second best, not when I knew I was capable of being the best. I knew I had an attitude problem that was working against me. It’s funny how some think just because you have good looks, fame and all the things that come with it (mostly beautiful women) that you are automatically some arrogant prick. I have my flaws no doubt, but being arrogant isn’t one of them. Yes I admit I love women and have been linked with quite a few gorgeous ones, but still it doesn’t give anyone the right to lump me into some category I am not deserving of. I felt that a portion of the media used this against me and whilst they didn’t come out saying this, it was always implied when Kanewa’s simplicity and humility was constantly stressed to counter my supposed Casanova nature.

I had to change the way I was being viewed. Maybe I was putting too much stock into winning over some new converts but I was so sick of losing out to Kanewa, that I had to try all options available. This included toning down my social activities and focusing on more beneficial ones. Charities, getting involved on social media, being more accessible to the fans were all now in play. Operation rejuvenate my image was now in motion.

It is very hard for people who have tasted success at the highest level to relinquish it. Which is why so many stars struggle to keep up with reality once they are out of the spotlight. From being on top of your respective line of work, to barely being acknowledged. Fame, wealth and all its by products are addictions. The lifestyle that comes with it draws you in and before long you forget who you are, succumbing to the allure of success.

Whilst my circumstances were not that dire, I could sense things were changing. The bright lights that used to be solely focused on me were growing dimmer, whilst my Juventus counter part’ was growing brighter.

I had tasted success, liked it and thought that it would be that way for a long time. Foolishly I forgot how fleeting these things are. Kanewa had changed all that and now I was finding it difficult to adjust to being second best. Before I knew what was happening, he had won two straight Ballon D’Ors over me including all competitions that our respective teams vied for during that period. It was surreal the way things had changed and so quickly, really all I could do was struggle to keep up.

By now the media was firmly on his side. Fans had also taken sides. I had my loyal fan base, he had his. Arguments were intense between both sides as to who was the better player, sometimes getting quite ugly. The media and our respective shoe companies pounced on this and turned our rivalry into a global thing. It was me on one side, the former two time Ballon D’Or winner against the new blood from Japan who currently held all significant trophies and awards in the game.

I was only 26, Kanewa 3 years younger yet they played it up like I was some old athlete trying to find a grip on the ever changing landscape of football. I won’t lie it infuriated me to see how things were going. Mad that people thought I was done. In private, I disliked Kanewa but I tried to play it cool whenever we met in public. I suspect he felt the same way about me, as we never said but a few words to each other, despite meeting on numerous occasions.

My dislike for him wasn’t born out of jealousy, I will be one of the first to tell you he is incredibly talented. Its rare to see someone who possesses such a gift with the ball, even rarer to see someone at that height dominate the ball so easily. Color me impressed, he is definitely someone who has my respect on the field of play. Yet I can’t shake this feeling of annoyance whenever his name is brought up. It was almost like I disliked Kanewa the media creation more than Shinji Kanewa the actual man.

Demoted to the back seat in a car I had driven for the past few years. I felt like an outcast in the game I loved. But here’s one thing about me that some might not take seriously. I am not a quitter and I hate losing. For some, challenges pop up and cripple their aspirations, for others challenges bolster their resolve and motivate them to do better. If it meant spending more time in the gym, developing my body to get better, then so be it. If it meant sitting my ass in the video room for hours, studying opponents and the greats of the game, then so be it. If it meant distancing myself from the outside world to get better, then so be it. I was sick and tired of being the second best. I had my sights on Kanewa, with the intent of taking back all that had been lost in the past two years.

I had been in his shadows for too long now, watching him dominate the scene, questioning my skills, doubting my abilities. It was time to set things right and take back what’s mine.

In as less as a blink of an eye, all you have worked hard for can come crashing down around you. I have learned life is so temporal, and so many can go from front page news to being buried in tiny italics in the least read section of the paper.

Kanewa won the next Ballon D’Or…actually he won the next two to be exact but I will get to that in due time. Like I said, it doesn’t take long for life to come in and usurp you from your comfortable throne. Complacency is an athlete’s greatest foe, that and time ironically. I had underestimated my competition and was paying badly for it. Not that it was entirely my fault, sometimes these things are really out of one’s hand.

The media that had once adored me and proclaimed me the next best thing in the world of sports was quick to turn on me in favor of the new prodigy. All of a sudden I was the arrogant playboy who spent more time chasing starlets than on the field of play. The criticisms stung, but the only way I could fight back was win on the field. Even that was tough because as many times as we won, Juventus was doing even better. The tides of change had rolled in and it was firmly on their side from my point of view.

Every other article talked up their style of play, Kanewa’s rise to greatness and how our team was embroiled in chaos. It felt like the castle I had worked so hard to build was being razed. Vandals had made it into my fort and were hell bent on torching everything. My mind state was troubled, some might even say chaotic. I felt like I was being attacked and the only way to defend myself was to go on the offensive.

Winning heals all wounds but the same is just as true for the opposite. The more you lose, the more rifts begin to open up in the squad. Phantom arguments pop up, ‘unnamed sources’ start running to the media, tattling about all that’s wrong with the team, confidence begins to dip and chaos gains a bigger foothold. Not that we were falling to pieces, but merely being second best to Juventus was not good enough especially with the way we had dominated Europe in previous years. The wolves had been let loose, and the scent of blood had them on our trail