Eternal

Viva Espana, again!

Forgive me, for I am about to gush. I guess it must be my destiny not to watch major football tournaments in HD. The last World Cup I watched on my half-dead CRT TV, this year thanks to my move I have been resigned to watching repeats on state TV and streaming the final on my laptop. Regardless, I loved every moment of it and am truly grateful that, somehow, in between the packing and quite a few hotels (I even switched hotels at one point after discovering that a certain 5-star resort in Miri wasn't showing the games), managed to catch (almost) everything. And all the hassle was worth it.

Because Espana took it home. Again.

Man, what a final! IMHO The Spanish team embodies what every other hyped-up team lacks (England, France, Holland) - a total lack of showboating, a kind of team spirit and togetherness that makes you think believe that these guys are not just teammates, they're a single, lethal unit built on a foundation of true friendship. The team above all else. While the attacking midfielders defended, the defense uncompromising, the goalkeeper unwavering, it was how they gelled together that really captivated.

To quote the game commentator,it really seemed that LaRoja had more than 11 players on the pitch during the final game. Everytime the much-touted Mario Balotelli or Andrea Pirlo had the ball a swarm of red shirts converged upon them, applying pressure and forcing retreat. When Iniesta or Xavi had the ball another flurry of reds run forward in anticipation. And the passing, oh, the passing, have you ever seen anything that majestic?

Now I am just repeating what every columnist/reporter says. But most reports gloss over the fact despite such success, despite the praise, the expectations, that this team has managed to avoid the egoism, selfishness and one-upmanship that we see too often these days (Wayne Rooney cutting a sulky figure during the match with Italy, Arjen Robben's petulant reaction of jumping over the adboards and not even acknowledging his replacement when he was subbed, even Mario Balotelli's "I'm hunky" reaction (which, BTW, is getting lots of hilarious photoshop touchups - can't resist putting one here) when he scored against Germany. And let't not forget Samir Nasri's off-field antics and tirades against the press.

Contrast all that with Cesc Fabregas applauding Fernando Torres, who cost him his place in the starting line-up, when the latter was subbed out after 2 goals against the Republic of Ireland, and vice versa when Torres replaced Cesc in the final. Look at how they celebrate their goals - Xabi Alonso pointing to Jordi Alba when he scored from Alba's cross in the match agains France,and a truly hearwarming moment when Fernando Torres flicked the ball to Juan Mata for a goal, eventhough he had a clear shot and would have been guaranteed the Golden Boot should he had scored himself. It was just a wonderful, unselfish moment of team play -one friend helping another. And, Mata's appreciative reaction and Torres's grin after the goal - truly heartwarming and a really rare moment in today's cynical world of professional football. And to cap it off, what did Torres credit for the win? "Togetherness." Ditto Cesc Fabregas.

And what about this amazing story - while Italy was down to 10 men and Spain was practically toying with them - their Captain, the one they call San Iker (Saint Iker) in Spain, asks the assistant referee to stop the game early, out of "Respect for Italia." What sportsmanship. Pure class.

These are the moments (and these adorable post-match ceremony photos of the Spanish team's children invading the pitch) that I will remember for years to come, and I will measure all the future matches I watch, whether club or nation, against. To quote Pep Guardiola before Barcelona's Club World Championship final began, "Gentlemen, if you lose today you will continue to be the best in the world – but if you win today you will be eternal." In my mind, they are.
 

Ode to The Beautiful Game

I love football.

Love the passion of the fans, love how the modern game has become something so much more than a mere sport, that it has come to become somewhat of a replacement or perhaps, more fittingly, a symbol of centuries-old serfdom rivalries, taking the place of skirmishes of old.

How the Barcelona club de futbol symbolises the still-simmering defiance, and very much the independence, of the proud Catalans and their disdain for Madrid. And their city rivals Espanyol have come to represent its authority. And all those cracking derbies, be it they at Merseyside (Liverpool and Everton), North London (Arsenal and Tottenham) and of course, the two giants of Manchester, one a half-century old legacy still going on, with a venue sometimes dubbed the Theatre of Dreams, against perhaps the ultimate poster child of the capitalism of the modern game, the new money of City in pale blue. And speaking of venues, how can one not be drawn by names like the Stadium of Light, by the Camp Nou, the Vincente Calderon, and the Santiago Bernebeu? (Of course it helps that I am now ploughing through the Dance of Dragons by George R.R. Martin, and the wars of medieval kingdoms, their seats of rule - Winterfell, Dragonstone, Riverrun and Storm's End, Volantis, Valyria, Meereen, anyone??)

The unpredicability of the game, the fact that one can never know what is going to happen, cannot be denied either. I mean, who would expect that after the first few rounds at the Champions League, the underdog Turkish club Trabzonspor to top a group that includes Inter Milan, the mighty Inter that won the treble just over a year ago, and the champions of France, Lille? Especially since Trabzonspor was not supposed to even be in the CL in the first place, just pulled up to replace the Turkish league toppers, suspended over match-fixing investigations. Or that the powerful Manchester United, who recently steamrolled Arsenal 8-2 and Chelsea 3-1 over the past weeks, would be held back by Swiss club Basel? And of course by next week it could all switch up again.

There are many reasons why football is so loved by all. The mystery of 22 men chasing one ball. You never know what will happen. This is a game where the small, physically unimposing can impose upon giants. Witness Spain and Holland in the 2010 World Cup Final? Or Barcelona FC and AC Milan? Where a little Argentinian who was rejected by initial scouts in his own country for being too small, who suffered from a growth hormone deficiency and had to inject himself with hormones to ensure he continued to grow as a child, has become the world's best player? Try that with basketball, or rugby will you? :) It is, as it is called, the beautiful game.

Arsenal 2 Barcelona 1

Magnifique. Arsene Wenger's vision, which he persevered with despite years of criticism, his steadfast belief in his cut price purchases and mere boys, has come into fruition.

His team refused to be intimidated or submit to the at-first imperious Blaugrana, and what a match it was. I already watched it twice :) The second goal was just breathtaking and really just Wenger's vision in the flesh - Wilshere tapped to Fabregas, who somehow curled a long pass in which the ball landed neatly at Nasri's twinkling feet. Nasri then steadied himself and saw Arshavin running into the box unmarked - Andrei Arshavin, who in the words of the commentator, "has been the the butt of some criticism for some time" (I wouldn't have played him in this game to be honest, even he admitted to a lack of confidence in the last couple of weeks - another testament to Wenger's undying, stubborn belief in his boys) -who volleyed the ball into the corner of the net. Magnifique, I could only breathe when I watched the repeat of the whole chain of passes.

Here's hoping that Arsenal, now brimming with confidence, win the Carling Cup next Sunday, that darned Man United drop a couple more points, and most of all, that they take the beautiful game to the Nou Camp and beat Barca. Exciting days to come and Go Go Go Gunners!

Oh, and I can't help it, this is just too cute. He's all man on the pitch, but at the end of the day, Jack Wishere is still too shy to ask Leo Messi for his shirt, and had to get his Captain, Cesc Fabregas, at the ripe old age of 23, to ask for Messi's shirt for him. Which led to Cesc to tweet,"Jack Wilshere, can't believe I had to go get Messi's shirt for U. U were so scared. You were MOTM so next time please ask urself!"

Arsenal Rocks

Thank goodness Van Persie is fit again. And of course, El Capitan Fabregas classy and visionary as always. How does he always know where his teammates are when he picks up the ball??

I am going to miss watching and re-watching him play beautiful football when he leaves for Barca..

Meanwhile, MU has just beaten idiots Birmingham 5-0, which is terribly annoying to say the least. Although I have to say, Arsene Wenger could do with someone like Nemanja Vidic in defense...Laurent Kolscieny is OK but not the rock that is Vidic. Hope Wenger spalshes out on one this transfer window, or else I can't see how they are going to get past Barcelona after CNY.

Anyway, calling it a night. Sweet Dreams and Go Gunners!

Scary People On da Pitch - last fugly footballer post!

Half-watching Barcelona's 0-2 loss to Hercules in full HD.

Javier Mascherano scares me more than the villains on Criminal Minds.

He's the Captain of the Argentinian national team, and just recently boycotted his way out of Liverpool to Barcelona.

I did not really try to look for any photos of his playing in the recent Barca-Hercules game, so here he is in Liverpool colours.

He looks evil.

And here is his profile in the Pro Evolution Soccern computer game. I think he suits his defensive midfield tole - one look at his snarling face and strikers would go scurrying back to their own half.

And here is Mascherano's fellow Argentinian national team-mate, Carlos "The Beast" Tevez. Tevez plays on the opposite side of Mascherano - he's a striker.

If Arsenal needs a hairstylist, Spain NT needs a fashion stylist, then the Argentina NT needs an orthodontist.

Lo siento mucho, guys. All in good fun.

What Arsenal REALLY Needs

.....................is a HAIRstylist.


Seriously, with the exception of Theo Walcott and Cesc, the team is a big mess (and not a hot one, mind you).

Allow me to illustrate:

Bleach Blondes - some of the Gunners seem to have a real affinity with platinum peroxide bleach. Maybe the boys decided to share the bottle of bleach. You know, a guy thing - in the showers - Hey Manuel, watcha doin' there? Wow, your hair is like, gold now. Ooooh, lemme have some!

Seriously Manuel Almunia, you're a disgrace to Spain and all their (naturally) pretty boys!

And Bacary Sagna here decided that cornrows would be a cute way to show off his platinum locks.


Alex Song decided to channel an electrocuted sheep.

As you can see, Mr. Song is not afraid to experiment with his looks. Here is another one of his wildlife-inspired looks. Think he was going for a centre parting here. I think he meant to scare his opponents - you know, make him look bigger.

Very much like a frill-necked lizard, which also tries to use its looks to scare off potential attackers.

And some for goodness's sake, Arsene Wenger, please invest in some hairgel for...

Andrei Arshavin.


And ol' Shaggy here. Oops, he's not Arsenal but I can't help it. In addition to hairgel, we ought to throw in a tanning booth, maybe a trip to Ibiza? This guy looks like he is in serious need of some Vitamin D and sunshine.

And doesn't the club, sixth richest in Europe or something, pay Tomas Rosicky enough to get a half-decent haircut?

On the other hand, maybe just keep the gel away from this young wannabe right here. Marouane Chamakh obviously spends a lot of time perfecting this unicorn hairstyle. Maybe it's an aerodynamic thing, the taper at the back enables him to run faster, or somehow directs the air to flow around it and concentrate the air pressure on the ball he heads....oh, I can't do this. He looks like a damned llama or something.

LOL.

Break Update

So it's Saturday already, the second last day of the four-day holiday. I've been cooking and eating much more variety than my past spells of instant noodles, curried eggs with chapatthi and sambal tumis. My latest addiction - home baked fries. Peel and cut a potato into sixteen wedges, toss in a couple of drizzles of oil, add barbecue seasoning and sea salt. Bake at 240 degrees C for twenty minutes, or until the edges start turning brown - almost black. Eat immediately. And who else do I have to thank for this effortless recipe? The Domestic Goddess herself - who else, really?

I've also managed to catch the last half hour of the 2010/2011 Everton-Manchester United match - the best part where Man U strikers squandered their lead by being selfish and not passing when they could to their teammates in front of open goals - Berbetov and Nani - and giving up the chance to go 5-1 up (they were 3-1). Instead Everton scored two goals in the injury time and pulled a draw against the Red Devils. Superb (sorry, Pa).

I'm in the midst of Arsenal vs. Bolton now (Final result of the match, 4-1, it could have been 6-1 if damned Arshavin and Chamakh converted their chances after being put through by "Fabulous Fabregas"). I can see why Arsenal held on to Cesc Fabregas like a crazed lover - they would be nothing without the guy. A visonary passer, he really is the hinge between Arsenal's defense and attack. His passes cut through the opposing teams and find his targets (who often let him down - yes I'm talking about you Arshavin). He hardly puts a foot wrong. It's a case where the hype has been, well, true about someone, and who exudes elegance on the pitch and, unfortunately, is truly a class above his teammates (I mean, Chamakh, Almunia aren't exactly what you call reliable - why, you can almost see the uncertainty on their faces when they play) Pity about the 4-1 drubbing by Argentina of the La Furia Roja at which he was at the helm of - but he is well and truly the (bright) future of Spain and their footballing reign. And of course, it does help that he looks damn good doing all of it. Love his Maori tattoo.

Relax, this ain't Cesc.

Introducing............Bolton's new (3rd choice I think) Hungarian goalkeeper, Adam Bogdan. Guess what his teammates call him?

Uncanny, isn't it? :P

Back to cooking. I want to make Ouefs en Cocotte with Pecorino, cheddar and fresh basil, and grill burgers when AK gets back.

Okie enough rambling for now. Just had to spill out the nonsense in my head.

What were they thinking LOL

Champions League 2010/2011 1st Leg Playoffs - Much-touted Tottenham lost to Swiss side Young Boys 3-2 in the opening leg. Everyone is playing up the Young Boys, mostly because of their hilarious club name. I suppose Ryan Giggs wouldn't be allowed in this club. I like this article :)

"...........Is there a team name in world football funnier than that of Switzerland's finest? Yes, says Mirror Football's Akhil Vyas . Here's his top 10...

10) Young Boys Berne: The Swiss Axpo Super League side, in Champions League play-off action against Spurs after knocking out Fenberbahce, have won 11 titles and six Cups. Have significantly reduced their comedy potential since knocking down the Wankdorf Stadium - leading to the classic headline 'Young Boys plan new Wankdorf erection - and replacing it with the less gigglesome Stade De Suisse.

9) Wankie FC: Zimbabwean Premier League side who brought rare moments of comedy to Robert Mugabe's fiefdom before "pulling a Wankdorf" and changing their name to Hwange Colliery FC.

8) Botswana Meat Commission: The country's Coca Cola Cup winners in 2007, they currently play Mascom Premier League.

7) Naughty Boys: Recently relegated to the Botswanana First Division South - meaning they do not have to play First Division North side Miscellaneous.

6) KFC Winterslag: Dutch side who merged with K. Waterschei S.V. Thor Genk in 1988 to become Racing Genk. Have won the Belgian league twice since.

5) SC Feucht: Bavarian side whose name mirrors their attendances - they averaged 154 spectators per game in 2007/08.

4) Frigg Oslo: Norwegian side who are named after the Norse goddess who was Odin's wife - but who can't help reminding you of Paul Gascoigne's famous message for the people of Norway.

3) Deportivo Moron: Alma mater of Sevilla's Diego Perotti, the Buenos Aires side currently play in Argentina's Second Division - one level below Atletico Colon.

2) Deportivo Wanka: Peruvian team named after an ethnic group, the Wankas, based in the Andes who speak the language Wanka Quechua. Haven't played in a league since 2004, when they pulled out after protesting their relegation. Still play in the Copa Peru.

1) Semen Padang: Indonesian Premier Division champions, named after the local Semen cement firm. The hardness of their product is not in doubt. "

Meanwhile it's funny how things pan out - Werder Bremen, much criticised as whores for selling their so-called playmaker Mesut Oezil to Real Madrid less than a day before the match, won their match against Sampdoria 3-1, while Sevilla, who retained their key players after the World Cup, lost 1-0 to Braga (from Portugal).

Well, it's only the first leg I suppose. Much more excitement to come!

What I Miss the Most

..............watching the reruns of the World Cup.

.......is my dad in his favourite armchair, laughing at the silly and not so silly antics on and off the field. The crazy fans with tears falling down their cheeks, the English fans dressed like medieval pikemen...those silly Brazillians arguing with the referee.

Miss you papa, wish we lived nearer.

My Take on the 2010 World Cup

Oh to have been in South Africa!

...there's a first time for everything. First time Africa hosts it, first time Spain wins it. And who would have predicted North Korea putting a goal past Brazil, or New Zealand being the only unbeaten team of the match with nary a pro player? Or Italy losing out to New Zealand in the Group Rankings?

...........that you need a TEAM to win. Goalkeepers like the Vincent Enyeama of Nigeria and New Zealand's Mark Paston could only do so much to keep the goals out. They made save after save, some the best I have ever seen. But at the end of the day something's gotta give when your teammates keep letting you down. It is eleven vs eleven, and you're only as good as your last man. I mean, that's how Germany demolished the so-called threats of England and Argentina. Come to think of it, the La Furia Roja could take a page or two out of the Germans' book in terms of team cohesion and unselfishness - if Sergio Ramos had passed to one of the four waiting in the penalty box instead of going for goal in the 1-0 loss to Switzerland, and if Pedro had passed to Torres in the match against Germany, scorelines would have been different.

........that some people have gotten too big for their Nike spurs. Case in point Christiano Ronaldo, who spat into media cameras after his team bowed out to Spain in the quarter finals, which is a rather fitting cap to a lackluster, diva-like performance in the tournament. I was truly disgusted by the multiple dives he made, the constant arm-flapping and whining every time a defender so much as touched him. Class-less, this one. What a disgrace to his country and the Captain's Armband.

..........that sometimes you have to trust yourself above all others. Everyone was expecting Vincente del Bosque to field the obviously unfit Fernando Torres during the final game at some point, but he obviously knew what he was doing and chose to send out Jesus Navas and Cesc Fabregas first. And both contributed to the uprising of the Spanish team late in the game. Maradona did nothing except put his head in his hands and finger his rosary beads, and Fabio Cappelo (of England) also did nothing (eventhough their teams were only one or two goals down with plenty of time to play still) while both their teams succumbed to the German blitzkrieg.

........that leaders emerge from the fray. I speak of Xavi who got Sergio Ramos away from the fray when the latter looked like he was going to get himself a piece of John Heitinga, who had fouled little Iniesta for the umpteenth time. And of course, of Diego Forlan who inspired his underrated Uruguayan team all the way into the semi finals.

........that if you care to look you can see grace and sportsmanship all around. Carlos Puyol making his rounds insisting on shaking hands with the dejected German team after Spain beat them (with Puyol's sole header goal). Wesley Sneidjer picking Iniesta up after a fair tackle on him during the finals, and before that, trying to console Filipe Melo (who frankly I would have kicked) who was rightfully shown the red card after stomping on Arjen Robben during the Netherlands-Brazil quarterfinal. Thomas Mueller, who could have scored when he got away from the Argentinian defence but put his head up, saw his teammate Lukas Podolski unmarked and passed the ball to him, who then scored. It was most fitting that Mueller won the Golden Boot award, with 5 goals and the most assists.

.......that movie-like beginnings can exist - the first goal from South Africa, scored by Siphiwe Tshabalala, was a scorcher that must have had all of Africa on its feet. What a moment of pride and joy for the continent - the first goal of the tournament and what a goal it was! Magnificient. And of course, the hardest-working, most nimble, most tireless on the field, most humble off the field, Andres Iniesta scoring the final goal of the tournament. And he chose to honour someone else, his fallen teammate Dani Jarque, with his goal. A moment destined to be immortalized.

........that a young team with little expected of them but so much HEART can take you far, beyond the giants England and Argentina. Selfless players giving each other wide berths to score - Mueller to Podolski, Schweinsteiger to Klose and so on and so forth - no wonder that they not only won games, they tore these so-called giants apart. Kudos Joachim Lowe and team!

.........that sport is once again ahead of politics and real world - it's a smack on the face of racism. Look at the German side - Klose and Podolski are of Polish ancestry, Oezil of Turkish parentage, Khadeira of Tunisian....a total of 11 of the players in the final 23-man World Cup Finals roster were actually eligible to play for other countries but were chosen to follow in the footsteps of Franz Beckenbauer and Jürgen Klinsmann to play for this proud footballing nation. When will Malaysia learn????

......that brains and talent triumph over brute strength. Or tiki-taka over anti-football. I'm sure I wasn't the only one who kept groaning at how tiny and skinny the Spaniards looked next to the Butch Dutch. I mean at one point all I could see was Iniesta grappling with a Dutch thigh during the game, and he looked almost invisible from ground level darting in and out of those brutes the penalty area. One commentator described Jesus Navas as "dainty" and he did look as if he could snap into two if John Heitinga or Van Bommel cared to give it a try. But he so dizzily outpaced and outwitted his marker Van Bronckhorst that the Dutch Captain, in his last international match, had to be substituted for someone a bit quicker on his feet. Navas, who surprised some when del Bosque put him in to replace Pedro after 60 minutes, was labelled a "nervous player" by the commentator, who later turned a 180 - "...has really lifted this game", and "...is the coolest player on the field". Such were the words. Carlos Puyol, "absolutely determined", rose above the heads of other people a good foot taller than him to head in the winning goal against Germany. So the La Furia Roja's speed, and seeemingly unreal ability to tap, poke, bounce and dance with the Jabulani won. Skill vs. Strength, Brain vs. Brawn they say in the headlines. I'll add to these - Butterflies Vs. Buffaloes, Grace Vs. Goliaths.

And of course, Jesus Navas's story, of a young Romani overcoming his debilitating mental illness to play on the biggest stage on earth, given his chance by a wise coach who risked bringing him in at such a crucial moment.

Hopefully the best is yet to come from La Roja and my latest crush. IMHO if only they (the team I mean) could shake that flashes of selfishness in some of their players, then they'd really be formidable.

More from La Liga Weekly which I think sums it up:

"Jesus Navas, 24 year old winger from Sevilla, Andalusia, has finally made the call for Spain. La Furia Roja has been on his radar for years now, since becoming a first-choice selection for Joaquin Caparros, Juande Ramos and now Manolo Jimenez.

Through it all the proud Andalusian played his way through a debilitating illness. Homesickness. You laugh, I know, I was there too, but it's more than just a general yearning for home for Navas. These are severe, lengthy panic attacks that hit when he least expects it, causing depression and even seizures, whenever he leaves Seville. He couldn't join La Furia Roja on a tour of the United States because he couldn't even leave the city for a friendly match in a nearby town even.

Therapy has helped. An understanding with Vicente del Bosque and Luis Aragones before him has helped as well, but more than anything the kid is finally at a place that he can play for his country.

We jump at the chance to celebrate players when they do something important on the pitch, let's celebrate when a kid does something important for himself for once."

Photos from Someone's Journal. I feel you, girl!

The 2010 World Cup has left me with...

Warning: Photo purge ahead :)

An inspiration (Ok, ok, a crush). But it's still some story.

Those are some startlingly beautiful, almost unearthly eyes. Somehow they instantly remind me of what the Targaryen family's eyes would look like. You know - the mythical dynasty from Old Valyria. Just check out The Song of Ice and Fire by George R. R. Martin - only the most heart wrenching, magnificient fantasy series I've come across - as one reviewer put it, the characters in these books would put the Borgias to shame.
Anyway, I digress. :)

Extract from A Different League

La Liga Player Profile- Jesus Navas, Sevilla FC.

The stand-out result from this week’s international friendlies was undoubtedly Spain’s convincing defeat of the French in Paris. First half goals from David Villa and Sergio ramos gave the European champions a comfortable victory, and further underlined their ominous World Cup credentials.

A quick glance at their squad for the game shows an almost unfair number of high class midfield players at their disposal. It could be said that La Roja have more than enough of their fair share of quality in the middle of the park with Xavi, Iniesta, Fabregas, Marcos Senna, Alonso, Silva and Mata, and now, joining this elite cast, is Jesus Navas. The Sevilla winger came on for the second half and was particularly impressive, giving Patrice Evra a torrid time, and looking every part the international class winger he had been earmarked to be many years ago. Despite having clocked up over 200 appearances for the Andalucian club, winning a Copa del Rey and two UEFA Cups, Navas has taken the scenic route towards representing his country. Unfortunately though, it’s a rare aversion to changes of scenery which has stalled the progress of his career up until this point. It is well-known that Navas has suffered from chronic homesickness and nervous anxiety about straying too far away from his beloved home province of Seville. It is a condition which has seen him pull out of various international and club tours and training camps, which seriously hindered his progression as one of Europe’s most promising talents.



Indeed it was a matter which got so bad that Navas announced his retirement from the Spanish set-up before he’d even gained a cap. Despite producing a series of lightning displays for Los Nervionenses, his fragile emotional state out of his comfort zone rendered him untenable for national service, and reportedly cost him a transfer to the Premier League with Chelsea in 2006. At the start of this season Navas indicated a willingness to conquer his fears in aid of resurrecting his International career. Now aged 24, he appears to have matured as a player and a person, and overcome his personal demons which have plagued him ever since he burst through Sevilla’s youth ranks as a nervous child. On the field he has already doubled his previous best goals return by striking ten times so far this term, form which has led to the invite from Vicente Del Bosque to be part of the Spain set-up working towards the World Cup. In truth, had it not been for his homesickness, this call-up could have come any time in the past five years. Sevilla have been a prominent side domestically and abroad, and Navas has been integral to their success. The club, first under Juande Ramos and since under Manolo Jimenez, have taken on a vibrant, attacking theme, with plenty of pace and width and a nose for goals. It is the ideal surroundings for a winger to flourish.

Operating as a genuine right-winger he is a throw-back to the old school, operating with chalk on his boots, he pins his ears back and commits full-backs. There are no airs and graces, nothing overly complicated and flamboyant about Navas’s modus operandi. Countless step-overs, and triple salchows are not part of his repertoire, instead preferring to simply drop the shoulder and dart at his target with pace, conviction and a desire to skin. Up until this season his goals tally was modest – he still averages only one goal in ten – but he makes up for this by supplying a stream of quality crosses for his strikers to feast upon. Year on year Navas is around the top of La Liga’s ‘assist’ charts, and it is no coincidence that Freddi Kanoute and Luis Fabiano have plundered almost 200 goals between them since 2005.

Sevilla and Navas started the 2009/10 season well, winning seven of their first eight games. After this fine start, Navas received the call to join his compatriots for the friendly double-header with Argentina and Austria in November. It was a call Navas now felt comfortable to take, and made his debut with a ten minute cameo against Diego Maradona’s Albiceleste in Madrid, before an impressive second 45 minutes in the 5-1 rout of Austria in Vienna. Small, but positive steps as he looks to secure a place in the final 23 for South Africa. Such is the form of Navas, he is now being linked with moves to Barcelona and Real Madrid. Indeed just this week Sergio Ramos has told the Spanish press that he would prefer to see his Spain team-mate at the Bernabeu, rather than long time Los Meringues target Franck Ribery. That talent has never been in question, the application has.

It is a strange concept to understand that in such a profession, one is limited by such a phobia. Yet it is a testament to Navas’s desire to succeed that he has managed to battle against these fears to, not only continue his career, but to progress to the point he may well be taking part in a huge global tournament, under intense scrutiny, many miles away from the little town of Los Palacios.

Name Jesus Navas
Age 24 (21 November, 1985)
Position Winger
Club level honours UEFA Cup 2006 & 2007, UEFA Super Cup 2006, Copa Del Rey 2006/7, Spanish Supercup 2007
Nationality Spanish
Caps/goals 2/0

...........and he did.

And I can't resist copying another article, purely for my reading pleasure:

"Sevilla winger Jesus Navas has beaten a crippling anxiety issue to book his place in Spain’s World Cup squad. He deserves it.

."

Photos are from his Facebook fanpage and Someone's Journal, and this site, which has some really funny captions...like the one with Vincente del Bosque "probably instructing him on how to blind the opponent with his beauty". I know I'd be keeling over this one on the field. It's also a good respite from the all serious skills commentary and focuses on what's really important :)

Update: Apparently people are surprised that postcards of him are selling just as well as those of Fernando Torres, Xavi Hernandez and Cesc Fabregas.

Well duh.

Jesus Navas is quite the curious case. A talented, fleet-footed winger who could cause practically any defender in the world problems, but has remained on the fringes of international recognition due to acute anxiety problems caused by homesickness.

Navas has issues just leaving Seville, let alone travelling abroad. His homesickness has caused successions of anxiety attacks upon leaving the city, forcing him to abandon training camps, refuse to be part of pre-season tours and at one point, quit international football altogether.
Cricket fans will be aware of this condition already, as Somerset and England player Marcus Trescothick has been the victim of such a curse. Again, all the ability is there with Navas, but he has been unable for a long time to manage his demons upon leaving his home.

It’s far too easy to write this off as him being a Romany Gypsy. Like Jose Antonio Reyes before him, Sevilla plucked him from the rural areas surrounding Sevilla and brought him into their youth academy. Whilst it’s well known that the gypsy folk are bad travellers, Navas condition goes far beyond simply not wanting to move.
Navas is a graduate of the famed Sevilla academy, which has brought through the likes of Reyes, Diego Capel and the late Antonio Puerta. Having made his debut back in 2004 at the age of 18, he has risen up to become one of the key members of the squad and has attracted a keen following from the big clubs that like to feed off of the Andalusian outfit.

He played a big part in Sevilla’s UEFA Cup triumph in 2005/06, playing in every game and helping to create Enzo Maresca’s first goal of the evening. This form saw him alerted to the attentions of Europe’s elite, with Sevilla actually agreeing a deal to send the winger to Chelsea at the beginning of the following season.

However, Navas’ fears over homesickness saw the move cancelled and he remained at the Ramon Sanchez Pizjuan. For the next two seasons, Navas maintained a consistent threat, with the knowledge that his career could never progress - despite his abilities - hanging over him like the Sword of Damocles.

The 2009/10 season saw things start in familiar fashion. Sevilla prepared for a pre-season tour to the United States, with Navas declaring his intention to remain at home. However, in a dramatic twist, Navas produced a u-turn on his decision and travelled in a bid to overcome his homesickness. For too long had it held him back in his career and this marked a change in mentality from the Spaniard.

From then on, his season has gone from strength to strength. He has enjoyed his most productive campaign to date for Sevilla, bagging 12 goals in total (including the match-clinching goal against Atletico Madrid in the Copa Del Rey final), whilst his nine assists in La Liga were only bettered by Barca trio, Xavi, Dani Alves and Lionel Messi.
He has also forced his way back into the Spanish set-up, with Vicente Del Bosque calling Navas into his squad for two friendly matches in November, the first in Madrid and the second all the way into Vienna. Navas stood up to his involvement in these matches and has been named as a member of the final 23 players heading to South Africa this summer. In return, he bagged his first ever international goal to clinch a 1-0 win over South Korea.

Now the big question returns. It is not a case of whether Navas deserves a place in the squad, because that goes without question for a player of his ability. But can he handle being out of Spain for a whole month? Can he adjust to his surroundings in South Africa without suffering anxiety-induced seizures? Will he be able to reproduce the form that got him there under these pressures?

Talk has surfaced of a move to Real Madrid over the summer, with officials from the capital club having already put the feelers out to Sevilla. The sky is the limit for Navas; it just depends on whether he allows himself to take flight

Photo above from MSN Sports, which incidentally is the source of this little bit (more) trivia as well

Viva España

"Today beautiful football has won."

As much as I try to remain cool about it, I am (was) emotionally vested in Spain. Seeing these tiny players fouled again and again by the butch Dutch giants was difficult to watch.

Vicente del Bosque's decisions to put in Jesus "sexyeyes" Navaz (mesmerizing - and not just his eyes, mind you) and Cesc Fabregas totally paid off, despite everyone (including the commentator) going "What??"

In fact, after watching the final for the 3rd time, I wonder why Vicente del Bosque didn't place Navas in the starting lineup for this final, and wonder why Iniesta and Xavi kept on trying to drill the ball down the centre line when they could have exploited Van Bronkhorst's lack of pace in the right wing. Jesus Navas ran the Dutch captain ragged down the line and forced the Dutch coach Watshisname to replace him. I think I just found my new schoolgirl crush.

But I can't deny that it was poetic justice that the Man of the Tournament, the low-profile, clean-playing, hardworking Andres Iniesta was the one who scored the winning goal for Espanyol, not any flamboyant David Villa or the selfish Pedro. And he chose to honour one of his fallen teammates when celebrating the goal. It was a joy to watch Spain persisting to play their intricate, attacking style and refusing to bow to the thuggishness of the Dutch, who seemed to think that they could foul and rough their way to the Cup.

Beautiful.

And I can't help it - Thomas Mueller scoring two against the Prima-Maradona's side after being snubbed by the fat idiot during a press conference not so long ago. Now THAT's rubbing it in your face! Germany did light the World Cup on fire with their young, vibrant team that was just a joy to watch (almost) all the time. Kudos.