The Champions League final was over before it began. Going into the game Manchester United were, for better or for worse, red-hot favourites, with critics pointing to the semi-final dismantling of an Arsenal team who, like Barce, know only one way to play. To make matters worse for the Catalans, they were missing three out of their four first-choice defenders and as such, were forced into incorporating midfielder Yaya Toure and the aging Carlos Puyol in unfamiliar defensive roles. Targeting this perceived weakness, Ferguson deployed a hardworking and determined midfield four of Giggs, Carrick, Anderson, and Park Ji-Sung to close down the deadly Barce midfield, and then pick a pass to get Rooney and Ronaldo running at the make-shift backline. It was a grave mistake.
The first ten minutes were an unfortunate microcosm of Ronaldo’s out of control ego. Following a confidence-inspiring freekick on target, his quick and predictably direct, runs followed by a fleeting long-range shots, simply frustrated the United players around him. Following this early pressure, United allowed Barce to start playing that dangerous brand of football they’ve showcased all season, exemplified by perhaps the most impressive goal-scoring ratio of the modern era. The creativity that fostered such an unprecedented dominance in the Spanish domestic league slowly started to dominate the English Champions.Ultimately, the first half was epitomised by a Barcelona side enjoying their predisposition to possession, a characteristic United seemed to indulge by not getting tight to their men or attacking the loose ball with the conviction expected. The Manchester midfield was slow, both mentally and physically, when Barce were in possession or chasing the ball. Ronaldo continued to run head-down and aimlessly for ten minutes before Barce opened the scoring, a mistake from which no lessons were learned. The precise, metronomic passing of the Barce midfield disoriented United, before Eto’o floored Vidic with a simple dummy and toe-poked an early shot past Van der Sar. From then on Barce were quite simply on another plain, strolling every inch of the Stadio Olimpico with the pomp expected from a team of this composite talent. Every Barce pass was quick and sharp, every United pass was under-hit and panicked. In short, Barce were everything United were not: driven, calm, accurate and, more importantly, onside. The first half was played out with increasingly predictable regularity as Barce mesmeric superstars flexed their muscles, buoyed on by the biggest stage imaginable.While in many ways United limped over the line to a third consecutive Premier League title, Barce romped to La Liga glory with a 6 – 2 demolition of rivals Real Madrid. The second half of the Final simply consolidated and realised this difference in group ability and determination. United continued frustrating each other with misplaced passes and unexpected errors, while Barcelona were relaxed in possession, commanding the respect often forgotten by pampered Premier League footballers, used to an easy win. Tevez was brought on for the ineffective and blundersome Anderson before Berbatov replaced Giggs to give United a 4-2-4 formation. Yet, with Ronaldo neutralised by the excellent Puyol, in new territory at right back, and Rooney increasingly hugging the touchline, United failed to produce any inspiration. By definition inspiration cannot be produced, simply witnessed, and United’s second half was another example of failed attempts, off-side runs and vacant defending. From an innocuous string of passes down the right side Xavi whipped in an inch-perfect cross that Messi was able to meet with what can only be described as grace. It was one of those moments where time seemed to stand still, and from the moment the ball left Xavi’s foot, the die was cast. The remainder of the match was simply a formality.While the result might not have surprised too many people, the manner of Barce’s victory certainly might have done. Barcelona’s domination of the Spanish League was dismissed by the arrogance of the English, because after all, we’re told week-after-week that La Liga and Serie A are nothing compared to the full-blooded, break-neck Premier League. Pre-match, the Spanish were as self-assured as the English, yet ultimately the truth shone through. Barcelona made Manchester United look like a pub team. Outshone in every position on the park, United deferred to hard tackles and long balls within twenty minutes, and it was this lack of imagination and submission to superior ability that destroyed United in the end.It seems a little self-defeating to highlight particular players for praise, but even amongst the other stars on display, three men in blue and red stood out. They are Xavi Hernandez, Andres Iniesta and of course Lionel Messi. Ferguson spoke before the game of Xavi and Iniesta’s ability to put opponents on a “carousel” with their passing, and if anything, they actually superseded the Scotsman’s hyperbole. The ‘pass, move, offer’ school of football was on display for all to see last night, and any doubts that the two Spaniards are currently the world’s two best midfielders evaporated before half-time. And little Lio Messi? Unplayable from start to finish, bouncing off tackles, running at defenders, and constantly on the lookout for that moment of innovation to unlock the Premier League’s meanest defense.Put short, the self-congratulatory and onanistic undertones of English football were ultimately undone this year, and every minor or major battle was won by the Spanish champions. The evening was billed as Manchester United vs Barcelona, Ronaldo vs Messi, Ferguson vs Guardiola. The representatives of the English League were undermined in every respect by their own arrogance, laziness and lack of imagination. A club owned by a supporters collective and sponsored by UNICEF destroyed the ultimate symbol of global footballing business. It was the final the world had been waiting for.Last year, a moment of individual brilliance from Paul Scholes put United above Barca in a second. A year on, 93 minutes of footballing perfection undid everything. The gulf, if you’re a United fan, was terrifying.
Here at STT we often get painted with the same brush as Nuts and Zoo just because of the occasional display of pleasingly-shaped lady-lumps. So this week we’re attempting to buck this supposedly sexist trend by throwing the ladies (and of course the gays) a metaphorical bone. So yesterday we showed you some confusing snaps of David Beckham wearing some weird old clothes in a boxing ring, but today we have the real treat for you lucky people: three Argentinian guys with long hair that definitely wouldn’t make convincing rapists.
Kickette were the eagle-eyed photographers in this case, snapping Lionel Messi, Fernando Gago and Ever Banega as they prepare for the forth-coming Olympic football championships. Half of me thinks they look cool, and kind of remind of a Pink Floyd tribute band, but the other half can’t shake the realisation that they could just be those weird people who live in the tents opposite Parliament screaming about imperial oppression. GET A JOB.
I was starting to get a bit worried about Lionel Messi. He’s young, ridiculously talented and living in Barcelona, but doesn’t seem to have got the memo about the importance of having a piece of busty arm candy. Things appear to be on the up for him though as he is now reportedly dating fellow Argentine, Luciana Salazar, who was his country’s alleged mascot at the 2006 World Cup. Quite what this role exactly entailed is up for speculation, but if she wore the above jeweled-optical-illusion of a bikini then I’m sure no-one really thought to ask. He’s not really a looker, but since when has that been important to potential WAGs? The feeling that comes from seeing the likes of Ribery and Tevez with any women other than burn victims is a depression that will never end. Cast aside homoerotic thought of Freddie Ljundberg and David Beckham though, because apparently, being ‘not really a looker’ is enough for Argentine model agencies, as The Spoiler have helpfully provided us with some snaps from Messi’s forthcoming underwear posters for Lody pants. Presumably Lody are targeting the blind.
Six years his senior, Little Lio will undoubtedly learn a few things from Ms Salazar, not least the meaning of the phrase “you don’t have to look at the mantle-piece while you’re stoking the fire.” No, that’s harsh actually, do a slightly more expansive internet search and you’ll definitely find evidence that she’s actually quite hot. Unfortunately most of those pictures are now blocked by the office SafeSearch.
It was expected to be a week of heroes, but bizarrely it will more likely be remembered for two men characterized as villains: John Arne Riise for tragically netting an own goal deep into injury time at Anfield, and Cristiano Ronaldo for missing a penalty after less than three minutes at the Nou Camp.
Starting then at Anfield with what many neutrals were actually dreading a little after a collection of tepid-to-say-the-least encounters between the two sides in recent memory. If anything the game was less cagey than last night’s supposedly free-flowing affair in Spain, and Chelsea genuinely demonstrated some attacking intent throughout the first-half despite struggling to carve out any clear-cut chances. Joe Cole wasted Chelsea's best opportunity of the match when he was found delightfully in the area by Lampard around the half-hour mark, but he failed to realise the amount of time and space he had, and the chance was snuffed out. Steven Gerrard signalled the Reds’ attacking intent after just seven minutes, but his ultimately tame shot was straight at Cech, before Kuyt's control let him down just after, having been put clear by Xabi Alonso. The Spanaird, alongside the fantastic Javier Mascherano dictated the midfield all game, with Lampard doing his usual invisible man impersonation (admittedly though, probably his mind was elsewhere with his sick mother, R.I.P.), and Ballack clearly lacking match-fitness. As the half reached its climax, Torres was put through with a class through-ball from Gerrard, but unusually El Nino failed to find the net, taking perhaps a touch too many to allow Cech to brilliantly smother the danger. The humanoid brick-wall was powerless to stop Liverpool taking the lead three mintues before the interval however, as Chelsea were caught out by Alonso's quick free-kick. Lampard failed spectacularly to clear on the edge of his own box, and Kuyt stole inbetween Makalele and Cole to latch on to Mascherano's sliced pass to coolly steer through Cech’s legs.
The goal understandably gave Liverpool a further injection of confidence, and they dominated most of the second half, with the impressive Ryan Babel fizzing a 25-yard shot just wide just before the hour mark. Chelsea grew into the game again during the second half though, with Malouda and Kalou almost contributing for the first time this year with probing runs at the Liverpool full-backs. Still though they failed to create much, with Drogba more concerned with pouting and shrugging his shoulders rather than making any decent runs. With less than ten minutes left on the clock, Liverpool were resurgent again, and Cech needed to produce two world-class saves, firstly to turn Gerrard's vicious volley over the bar, and then to block an injury-time strike from Torres after the Blues failed to clear a corner. In the 95th minute, the unthinkable happened though and Chelsea got that vital away-goal. Kalou's whipped cross from the left sparked uncertainty in the Scouse defense and Riise, under pressure with Anelka behind him, sent a spectacular diving header into the top corner in front of the Kop. Critics might suggest that a confident two-footed player might have dealt with it with his weaker right foot, but I guess that’s irrelevant now. Bentiez refused to blame Riise afterwards, only directing this at the match officials: “You can’t blame the referee for the own-goal. But the time? One minute in the first half, four in the second. It’s difficult to explain.”
Across to Spain and one of the world’s greatest stadiums then, itself the stage of Manchester United’s glorious victory over Bayern Munich in the 1999 Champions Legaue final. We billed it yesterday as the meeting of the world’s two best players, and in some ways it failed to really excite in any way at all. Before we talk about Messi and Ronaldo though, the story of the game is that Barcelona enjoyed more than 70% possession, yet still struggled to really create many prime chances. Manchester United were gifted the perfect start with Gabriel Melito handled Ronaldo’s goal-bound header, but the Portuguese star proved he is human by slotting the spot-kick high and wide of Victor Valdes’ goal. This spurred Barce on, and as the game progressed they became more and more camped in United’s half, dominating our Champions in a way that they certainly are not used to in the Premier League. Yaya Toure and the excellent Xavi bossed the midfield with ease, leaving the likes of Park Ji-Sung, Michael Carrick and Paul Scholes barely even passengers as the match unfolded. The choice openings fell predominantly to Eto’o, and the best chance saw him firing just wide after a stunning interchange between the Cameroon international, Deco and Messi put him through on goal. Kudos must go to the Catalans’ forward for staying on his feet in the second half when Rio Ferdinand recklessly crunched him from behind though, but in keeping his stride and not going for the penalty, the chance was essentially lost. Henry too looked bright when introduced, drifting in from the left to find the target in trademark style, and hitting a free-kick that was ultimately bread and butter to van der Sar.
So to the big face-off, and like we said yesterday, a chance for Ronaldo and Messi to prove if they can really do it on the grandest stage of them all. Big things are rightly expected of big players, and as has often been the criticism in the past, Ronaldo lacked anything approaching the penetration expected of him. He has to learn to do the simple things well, and realise that there is a time for back heels, and a time for straight-forward passes to feet. Looking at the truly great players of the past, Zidane for example never felt the need to do the spectacular in every match, but you could bet your mother’s life on him slotting away from the penalty spot yesterday, rather than trying to find the top corner for the cameras. Messi on the other hand was breath-taking, and despite not playing for several months, was instrumental in every attacking move Barce put together. His movement, footwork and passing were sublime, and it took a top-class performance from Patrice Evra to keep him even remotely shackled. Without Vidic, the United defence looked suspect centrally, and it was this space between midfield and back-four that Messi thrived in, zipping the ball about with so much time and space. Put simply, United must employ Hargreaves in this gap at Old Trafford to snuff out any danger of an away goal, and in Anderson they have a gifted ball carrier who will also provide the necessary steel to upset the Barce play-makers.
Ultimately, it is United and Chelsea who will be happiest going into the return legs next week, with homefield advantage, and without any deficit to surmount. However, Liverpool and Barcelona undoubtedly have the European pedigree, and will not be phased in their playing style of the prospect of an away fixture. It might not have been the most exciting brace of games but everything is very nicely poised for next week’s return deciding legs…
Last season a mouth-watering prospect lined itself up for football fans around the world; the chance to see Cristiano Ronaldo and Kaka’ lined against one another in a Champions League semi-final. The pre-game buzz was that Ronaldo had surpassed the mercurial Brazilian as the best player in the world, and the stage was set for him to finally prove that he could do it at truly the highest level and not just against, say, Charlton. However, over the two legs the Portuguese winger went missing, United lost, and a month later AC Milan celebrated their seventh European Cup.
Tonight though, another such contest in on the cards as our league’s leading goal-scorer faces off against La Liga’s most prestigious talent since Big Ronaldo slipped on the famous Barcelona shirt ten years ago. Lionel Messi is, well, almost impossible to give an epithet to. At just 20 years old he is the spirit of Maradona reincarnated; the most incredible balance and turn of pace, topped off with quite simply breath-taking footwork, styled in a way that only the very best South Americans can possess. It’s basically self defeating to choose a favourite, but if tonight and next Tuesday offer nothing else, we should finally be able to gauge just what kind of place in history both men are destined for.
It is rare for two players of such talent to have careers that coincide almost exactly. Going back through the annuals, the truly great players of all-time have stood out like beacons among their peers; think Zidane, Maradona, Cruyff, Di Stephano, Puskas, Pele. Even in more recent memory, it is often easy to choose a World Player of the Year, but even though he has been injured for much of 2008 to date, Lionel Messi will still surely finish in the top 2 in this season’s poll. On paper Ronaldo is impossible to ignore, but one wonders what might have been had Messi stayed fit…
Statistically, Cristiano Ronaldo is perfect. He’s tall, muscular, ridiculously fast, can head a ball like Alan Shearer, shoot off either foot harder than George Weah, and hit a free-kick better than literally anyone else in history. His goal-scoring record levels out as a goal every game across all competitions in 2008, he is the Champions League’s leading scorer this season, and together with Wayne Rooney and Carlos Tevez, forms the most fearsome forward triumverate since the Galacticos-era at Real Madrid. If Messi is Maradona channelled in the 21st century, then Ronaldo is George Best given a trendy hair-cut and a bronzing. It’s impressive to read of his work ethic too, consistently eager to keep moving upwards, and staying later than expected at training every day while a spin in his Ferrari and an impromptu orgy must be tempting.
But, scratch the surface and he isn’t fit to stand alongside the aforementioned all-time greats just yet. It is only recently that Ronaldo has been truly effective in Europe and in the Premier League’s major confrontations, but last month’s performances against Roma and Arsenal prove that he has perhaps one hand on greatness now. United’s crucial 3 games this week, twice against Barce and the title decider against Chelsea, will be the making of the man, not to mention this summer’s European Championships where he will be aiming to carry Portugal to their first major international title. His arrogance and showboating are part of the mystique, and as long as that swagger exists, tackles will continue to be rashly thrown at him to step around. The diving too seems to have dried up thankfully, and most compellingly, the sheer fact that England has all but forgotten about his histrionics at the 2006 World Cup shows that he’s pretty special. His hat-trick earlier this year against Newcastle sums up everything that’s great about him; pace, power and two sublime feet:
However, while Ronaldo is an in-your-face behemoth, the equivalent of a neon sledgehammer to use an analogy, Messi is the sharpest and most subtle blade. The Telegraph put the physical disparity nicely today: “Ronaldo is strong as a bull with shoulders like a scaffolder; Messi is a delicate flower who plays football on his tip toes.” But little Lio’s running and balance are as mesmerising as Ronaldo’s step-overs, seemingly super-human the manner in which he can manufacture space to beat a man. Due to growth hormone defect however, Messi is still waiting for his full muscular development, so there’s no way you’ll see him towering over Vidic and Ferdinand to rocket a header past van der Sar, but that just isn’t his game. In tight spaces, Messi’s control and footwork matches anyone in history; he can suck in two, three or even four players and somehow ease past them. In terms of passing and vision too, Messi surpasses Ronaldo, and such is the way Barcelona have dominated Spanish football over the last five years or so before Real’s true resurgence this year.
Ronaldo’s assists have dried up as his goal-scoring has increased, perhaps understandably, but Messi is a true team player, able to easily interchange with the likes of Henry, Eto’o and Iniesta. On paper, you still feel Barcelona have the attacking edge even if they haven’t even remotely played to their full potential this season, but it’s perhaps no coincidence that the slump has been aligned with Messi’s stay on the treatment table. Messi has replaced Ronaldinho as the Catalans’ talisman, a spine-tingling prodigy who is still unassuming and understated. As with Ronaldo though, the criticisms of true European and international success can be levelled, as Messi was just one for the future when Barce won the Champions League two years ago. In terms of attitude and personality, Messi has both the temperance and humility to accept rough treatment and decisions going against him better than Ronaldo, as well as appealing more to the neutral, but that’s a small part of the picture. To sum up Messi in a goal is easy; surely everyone has seen this by now, but put simply, this is the best goal of the last decade:
So, can we come to any conclusions? What is clear is that each have adapted their natural talents to their adopted leagues over the last two years; Messi is graceful, floating through defences and capable of the deftest touch, while Ronaldo has built himself into a blistering physical specimen, yet still maintained the lightning step-overs that attracted Ferguson to him in the first place. It’s perhaps a moot point, but could Messi play in the Premier League? Probably not; he simply couldn’t compete physically, for better or for wrose. Could Ronaldo play in La Liga? Undoubtedly yes; and I’m sure before his career ends he will see him either a Real or Barce shirt. Tonight then is the closest we will come to comparing the two on a level playing field, as Manchester United’s free-flowing attacking style owes more to the fluidity of great Spanish sides of the past than the stringance of the Arsenals and Liverpools of the past. Put simply, just sit back and enjoy.
Another day, another amazing goal from Lionel Messi. In a week where Kaka has told the press that he’d vote for Christiano Ronaldo as the European Footballer of the Year, Little Lio has once again proved that even at just19 years of age, that he’d ready to hang with the big boys. STT are most definitely still in the breath-taking Brazilian’s corner on this one, but it won’t be long until even he is de-throned as the best player in the world, almost certainly by this mini magician.
You know you’ve got something about a bit special about you when people flock from all around the world to watch YOU, in teams full of the likes of Ronaldinho, Deco and Henry at Barcelona, and Tevez, Crespo and Riquelme at International level. Also, being seriously compared to Diego Maradona from the age of 16 ain’t bad going either. The hype however is more than justified in this case, as anyone who’s spent any amount of time watching Barce over the last couple of seasons will confirm. More than shooting ability or quick feet though, the key to Messi’s genius is balance; being able to change direction seamlessly at full pace, or just dropping a shoulder and hitting the gas. Considering the amount he has improved over the last two years, it’s actually a bit frightening how good he could actually become.
So here it is. Maybe not the piece of history that his Maradona-aping masterpiece against Getafe last season was, but still, just sublime:
The Champions League final was over before it began. Going into the game Manchester United were, for better or for worse, red-hot favourites, with critics pointing to the semi-final dismantling of an Arsenal team who, like Barce, know only one way to play. To make matters worse for the Catalans, they were missing three out of their four first-choice defenders and as such, were forced into incorporating midfielder Yaya Toure and the aging Carlos Puyol in unfamiliar defensive roles. Targeting this perceived weakness, Ferguson deployed a hardworking and determined midfield four of Giggs, Carrick, Anderson, and Park Ji-Sung to close down the deadly Barce midfield, and then pick a pass to get Rooney and Ronaldo running at the make-shift backline. It was a grave mistake. 
