The Italian Odd Couple


Selection permitting, come this evening we may have witnessed the sublime brilliance or infuriating petulance of one of the game's most peculiar strike partnerships; Mario Balotelli and Antonio Cassano. Very much cut from the same cloth the partners upon which Italian hopes are likely to rest are mavericks, playboys, eccentrics, the list of terms is endless. Given the temperament and tendencies of Balotelli one would be forgiven for expecting Cesare Prandelli to partner him with a level headed role model from which he could learn to curb his eccentricities. Instead the coach seems to embrace what makes the young City striker what he is and revel in the possibilities of his strike force. There really is a growing sense of master and student between the two. Upon arrival in Poland, Prandelli did, however, note one restraint he'd placed on the pair, "Mario actually wanted to share a room with Antonio but we didn't want to overdo it." A wise move one suspects!

Their 'rap-list' takes some reading. Ballotelli's training ground darts throwing 'pranks', experimenting with fireworks, confrontations with team mates, appearing unannounced at press conferences- of different teams, wearing an AC Milan jersey on national TV while playing for great rivals Inter, its all there. Not to be outdone the jovial Cassano can lay claim to "sleeping with 600- 700 women", being sent off and subsequently abusing the referee in the Italian Cup Final of 2003, imitating Fabio Capello, falling out with Sampdoria president Riccardo Garrone and generally being one to overeat and under train. As he puts it " I was born tired", tired in this sense we can take to mean lazy. Throughout much of his stint in Madrid he was ridiculed and lampooned as a clown of ever increasing weight and lessening value. Claims such as those made in his autobiography, 'Telling Everything' that he had a friend in Madrid whose job it was to "bring me three or four pastries after I had sex" probably didn't help his cause. Not that he cared what the media had to say about him one suspects. Cassano, like Balotelli, is a free spirirt. Just this week Balotelli's agent compared him to Peter Pan. In a curt reply to questions on the matter the young striker asserted that he is "more of a man than Peter Pan" although he did accept "I could be Peter Pan because I do things my own way, I'm a bit free". On the eve of a quarter final of the European Championships it was all a little surreal. Saving his best for last Balotelli out did himself in response to James Milner's claim that there are two Ballotellis- the one who can the win the game and the one who can get sent off at any minute- by simply saying; "he's fortunate that he knows two of me!"

For all their misdemeanors however they remain incredibly talented footballers, capable of putting England to the sword tonight should they be on their game. Cassano, at the age of 29, has collected two Italian Super Cups, one Serie A title and one La Liga. Ballotelli's haul at the age of 21 is truly remarkable; 1 Italian Super Cup, 1 Coppa Italia, 1 FA Cup, a Premier League Title, 3 Serie A titles and a Champions League. Their combined medal collection is one to marvel at and, given their idiosyncrasies, a huge testament to their incredible talent. José Mourinho once called Ballotelli "unmanageable". Roberto Mancini though perhaps gave the best insight into managing and tolerating such a talent in equal measures;

"I told him, if you played with me 10 years ago I would give you every day maybe one punch in your head..I don't speak to him everyday, otherwise I would need a psychologist, but I speak with him because I don't want him to lose his quality." Mario can be one of the top players in Europe. I don't want him to lose his talent."

Infuriating and inspirational in equal measure; the Odd Couple will tonight be given the grand stage upon which to silence their doubters and fire Italy to a semi-final date with Germany. Balotelli once wondered aloud after scoring against Manchester United; Why Always Me? Now that he has a partner in crime in the world of footballing mavericks, concerns of being singled out should no longer trouble him.

Book Review: A Life Too Short
The Tragedy of Robert Enke
by Ronald Reng


On 10 November 2009 Robert Enke ended his life. It was a tragic end to a harrowing battle with depression that had consumed from the inside out and transformed him both as a footballer and as a person. Enke and the author of the book, Ronald Reng, had intended on penning his life story together. Instead Reng was forced to do so alone.

The marks of Reng's close friendship with Enke are all over this biography. It is written very much from a friend's perspective; careful, sensitive and above all incredibly detailed. As such Reng's story flows effortlessly from the pages with a feel of authenticity. The detail in which the story is told is remarkable. From Enke's childhood in former East Germany to the highs of being Germany's national goalkeeper and every aspect of his personal life in between Reng   regales tales of his gentle, assured, simple demeanor. We get a picture of a man unimpressed by the trappings of wealth and flashiness that accompanies his chosen profession, happier instead with his wife Theresa, their countless dogs and later their children. Professionally Enke's career took him from Bundesliga protégé, to Benfica starlet, Barcelona reject and eventually, via loan spells at Fenerbache and Tenerife in the Spanish Segunda División, full circle with redemption in his home country at Hannover 96. He was courted too by the likes of Manchester United,  Manchester City and Schalke. Rumours late in his career even abounded that Bayern Munich were interested. It was a career that promised to reach the very heights of the professional game yet somehow seemed to be dragged back at every turn. Just as his stellar performances with Hannover had earned him a place in the national squad, and subsequently as first choice keeper- the pinnacle of his career- the scourge of depression that had first afflicted him in Barcelona returned. This time it would prove too much to overcome.


Perhaps most remarkable about 'A Life Too Short' is its ability to transcend the ever lurking finale of Enke's death for much of the book, making it read and feel like any other sport's biography. Until the culminating chapters the book retains its balance between the two main narratives of football and depression, it is the Enke the Goalkeeper and Enke the Husband we are most familiar with throughout. Enke the Depressive only appears intermittently. 


Early in his career Enke found himself uncomfortably in the middle ground of the goalkeeping fraternity; not so cautious and spectacular of those who remained rooted to the goal line like German hero Oliver Kahn, yet no so advanced as the '11th Outfielder' in the ilk of Edwin Van der Sar and the 'radicals'. Eventually though he carved his own niche; assured, decisive, unspectacular but ultimately comfortable in his own skin. The same too may be said of 'A Life Too Short'. There is nothing of the 'typical footballer' in the story, but more of the 'professional' seen in the likes of Eamon Dunphy's 'It's Only A Game'. In his epilogue Reng writes "his style of play went unacknowledged because he wasn't a fierce goalkeeper who trod a solitary and reckless path. Robert was something better...a goalkeeper...who didn't make a spectacle of his virtues and who firmly believed that ambition could be realised politely and respectfully." If Enke didn't enjoy the acknowledgment he felt he deserved at least the same will not be said of his story. The book will remain a fitting testament to a fine goalkeeper and a beloved friend. It's finest achievement may be in further eroding the stigma of mental illness that is attached to professional athletes, and pave the way for greater understanding and acceptance. Perhaps the greatest compliment I can pay Reng's work is my unusual dependency on the Backspace key in writing this review; 'Enke' not 'Robert' I had to remind myself. Somehow I too felt as if I'd known the man. 


Buy, Borrow or Burn?


Beautifully simplistic in its delivery, devastatingly sad in its message, 'A Life Too Short' has wrestled itself into the top drawer....


Buy!

In the Midst of Realisation

For days hope and optimism took hold on the seemingly arid landscape of the Croatian aftermath. Cause to believe seemed scant initially, yet as the movement grew more and more followers were converted. Eventually the perennial dictator was overthrown and the pretenders ruled. Their time was short lived, however. On Thursday reality came out swinging and wasted little time in reestablishing the natural order. Within three minutes our siesta was over. As is the disposition of autocrats, retribution was swift, prolonged and harsh.

Spain were simply sublime. They passed and moved with their customary aplomb, tiki-taka flowed as beautiful as ever. The travesty of the night was not the defeat, rather its origin and manner. The Spanish were more than capable of overcoming this Irish side on the merit of their own ability. The helping hand we extended was an unexpected and unwarranted contribution. Having seemingly sought to aid in our own demise, the Spanish wasted little time in granting our wish.

Giovanni Trapattoni is a fine coach with a distinguished past. He has steered the nation to its first European Championships in 24 years. On Thursday, however, it was his performance that was most glaringly inept. Robbie Keane alone up front, was an incredible decision. Simon Cox in midfield equally so. Trapattoni, in yesterday's press conference explained his decision to deploy Cox in the unfamiliar role, pointing towards his capacity to occupy Xabi Alonso and diminish his influence on proceedings. Sound in principle, not so in execution. Cox was never the man for the job. The chance of the Irish turning the Spanish over were slight from the outset. Accordingly one would imagine the Irish management would be economical with such glimmers of hope, seek to encourage and develop them in training and ultimately plot a course to unlikely success. In the end they were being rapidly dwindled away through inexcusably poor decisions.

Like most things in life, however, this loss cannot be attributed to one single individual. The broad brush strokes of the rights and wrongs of Trapattoni's decisions do not account for the many shades of grey that afflicted this Irish team. Some of the Republic's greatest servants have faltered at these Championships. Shay Given, seemingly not fully fit, simply does not make the sort of mistakes that led to Spain's second goal. Once David Silva had dispatched the ball to the net Ireland's dream was irrefutably unattainable, our championships over. Robbie Keane was never given the opportunity to prove his worth to those that now doubt him and cut a forlorn and frustrated figure. Richard Dunne too struggled at times. His stumble in the opening minutes, after a fine tackle, gave Torres the opportunity to pounce for the opener. Although Stephen Ward was ultimately responsible, the man that has so often been Ireland's most impenetrable line of defence; Dunne, was on this occasion found wanting. His knee jerking and buckling under the burden of his weight a microcosm of the team; burdened, buckling, and ultimately beaten. Our best may not have been enough at these championships, and given the evidence of the past week one would suspect as much. Frustratingly, however, we will never know.

The reality of our ineptitude was crushing, yet looking around the stadium you'd never have guessed. Of course there exists a correlation between expectation and reaction, and in that context greater lee-way is afforded to the Irish players. Were Spain to be knocked out after two games, conceding seven goals and scoring one, nobody would expect their fans to be as understanding as Ireland's were last night, such would be the disparity between expectation and performance. Regardless, the actions of the Irish supporters were truly magnificent. Thousands of miles away, a silence descended in homes and bars as people became aware of the growing symphony of Irish voices lamenting the travails of times gone by. As the din grew greater, so too did its influence. The singing spread, and before long enveloped the homes and establishments that had fallen silent. One final stand against the reality of the situation. As the chorus of voices sang the Fields of Athenry, you could see a people yet again pick themselves up off the canvas and dust themselves down. Exhibiting the best of what this country has to offer in terms of resilience, character and loyalty, their actions unfortunately spoke louder than those of our heroes on the pitch. This was the fan's turn to inspire the players, to express our appreciation for their efforts no matter how futile they ultimately had proven, and to remind them of the esteem in which they are held for their service to the jersey. It is not enough for the players to content themselves with gallant defeat, it is not enough for them to comfort themselves with the strength of their support nor to disguise their failings. But that is not what the final few minutes of Thursday night were about either. In their darkest hour the players deserved our support. The extended, ever-looping rendition an indication of the willingness of the fans to oblige and of the shared catharsis that had enveloped the stadium.

The biting reality of our greatest fears hurt. The embarrassment as bad was as we could have envisaged. Yet unity, loyalty and a steadfast refusal to be bowed exhibited the best of our country. The team must improve, of that there is no doubt. Now, more than ever before, they owe it to their fans.

Standing on the Precipice

Challenges invigorate the mind,  the body and the soul. They keep old men young, give impetus to one's existence and purpose one's profession. Some are small, but important nonetheless. Others are mammoth. 

In the world of professional sport this narrative can sometimes seem crude and misplaced in the context of the realities of 'real- life' problems. Even so, it is often the challenges our sporting figures encounter that inspire us to face the more mundane difficulties of everyday life. Today, in Ireland we as a nation are hurting. We are tired and confused, misled and misinformed. Many people find themselves subjected to crippling financial burdens while simultaneously striving to keep family units intact. Challenges have rarely been greater. It is in this context that we look, more than ever, to the heroes of the sporting sphere. Last weekend promised much but delivered scant reward with the All Blacks crushing the 'Potato Paddies' as the afterthought they view us as, and the damn Croats having enlisted some sort of divine script-writing intervention ensuring an opening day defeat at Euro 2012. Hope, however, springs eternal and so tomorrow we will willingly undertake our usual pre-match routine; self-deprecating jokes prepared, apologetic pardons assigned, acknowledgement that really we don't have a hope registered and suppressed, and finally vocal chords prepped for another night of "You'll neeever beat the Irish....". Only the Irish would sing a song whose premise is so wholly refutable. Tongue firmly in cheek then! Tomorrow the Rep. of Ireland face reigning World and European champions Spain, standing on the precipice of elimination. So too, in a sporting context, will the challenge that awaits be so daunting and seemingly insurmountable.

The premonitions and proposals as to which team represents Ireland best hope of survival is largely futile. Only Trappatoni will decide, and he is likely to make only minor changes. That however, makes it no less interesting to contribute to the generally obsolete debate!

It seems likely that Robbie Keane will retain his place in the side, and that he may be joined by Johnathon Walters in place of Kevin Doyle. Noises from the Ireland camp at today's press conference seemed to indicate a five man midfield with Walters as the extra body and Keane playing the role of lone striker. This to my mind represents nothing in the way of progressive and constructive influence on the team and their subsequent chances of causing an upset. Walters, presuming he plays the deeper role (presuming he plays that is!), offers endeavour, strength to hold the ball and set up attacks and a reasonable ability to cross the ball. Unfortunately the situation calls for more. For my money, Shane Long is our best striker at these championships and should be given his chance to prove as much. He is the only of our strikers that can legitimately claim to carry any sort of form into the summer, and may prove ideal for the task at hand.

Playing Long up front, with Keane in behind offers us a genuine attempt at disrupting the Spaniards. In all honesty neither Long, Walters nor anyone else is likely to strike fear into the hearts' of the defending champions, nor is it likely to prevent the Spanish Armada of little'uns laying siege to Shay Given's goal from every conceivable angle. Remember though, there's always hope, the crutch of every unwavering, loyal but equally illogical supporter! Spain, like Barcelona like to play the ball out from the back by pushing the full-backs on and splitting Ramos and Piqué to receive possession. Long is quick and crucially young and willing. The sight of him hurtling at the centre-backs might not win possession but it may very well unsettle what can be a flaky center-back partnership. Those two guys fancy themselves as footballers with the ball on the deck, justifiably so at times, what they fail to acknowledge is that they are liable to a rush of blood to the head. 'Put 'em pressure Jack' might just be called for again! Playing Keane in a withdrawn role, acting as a fifth midfielder when in defence is perhaps the most contentious issue with this particular blueprint for success. He is, however, more than capable of performing it successfully. Playing Keane in this role allows him to occupy Xabi Alonso and Sergio Busquets, who otherwise a flat midfield four will find hard to engage allowing them the freedom of the park. Keane's efforts may indeed prove strenuous on his ageing legs, and ultimately fruitless in regaining possession directly but it will serve to hurry the likes of Alonso instead of giving him all day to pick his passes and unlock our defence. That leaves our wingers to pick up their full-backs, and Whelan and Andrews free to sit a little deeper. Along with our back four, playing a slightly higher line, this leaves a 'back six' to pick up Spain's front four whatever shape that might take. Even if one of Busquets or Alonso feels the need to join in it still conceivably allows us an extra man in defence to deal with Spain's attacks and the higher line leaves less space to pass through us.

In attack the system too allows us some scope for optimism. If we're going to win this game, or take a point, we're going to do so through either playing counter-attacking football or through set plays. Possession football and intricate passing moves are not our forte as countless column inches and even more video evidence will testify. Long, in my opinion, offers most of what Walters does and quite a bit more besides. Having him on the pitch offers us three 'get-outs' to turn defence into attack and relieve the onslaught. Firstly, is playing the ball directly up to Long. His strength defies his size and more often than not it will stick. His distribution skills are also better than Walters. From there he can lay it off to Keane, Duff or any other of the supporting cast. Alternatively Long offers an option in behind which as a lone striker neither Walters, nor Keane nor Doyle do. The Tipp man is extremely quick and makes intelligent runs behind the defence. Perhaps most importantly, should he manage to spring the offside trap and evade his markers, I'd fancy him sticking it away unlike the other options at our disposal, bar Keane. Thirdly, our wingers breaking quickly can act as an outlet for balls out from the back. McGeady especially should have the pace to trouble his marker. Finally, another benefit of adopting this system is that is gets Robbie Keane involved in setting up attacks as well as trying to finish them off. Playing as a lone striker as he may well do tomorrow is a pointless exercise. He simply doesn't have the ability to play that game anymore, if indeed he ever did. Playing him behind Long gives him the opportunity to get on the ball and instigate attacks. We sorely lack creativity in possession but Keane remains the greatest proponent of creativity in our ranks. He still has that ability to thread careful passes in the final third that can give us a little more guile to break the Spanish resistance and also aid in retaining the football.

Regardless of the system, it will require unwavering commitment, clinical execution and a slice of luck for Ireland to succeed tomorrow. It is the biggest task of the players careers, to a man. It is perhaps one of the manager's greatest tasks too. We have long been prepared to play the role of jovial revelers off the pitch and plucky underdogs on it and tomorrow, in the end, may prove no different. If so we will slip comfortably back into our rightful position in the pecking order, gain acclaim from all involved for our spirit and the support of our fans in Poland and comfort ourselves with the undeniable truth that this team is a bunch of lads that always give their utmost effort in the name of our country. What we must not do is acquiesce to such a fate without the application of the group's collective wisdom to the job at hand. The burden in this regard falls largely with the manager. One defeat does not mean that the playbook need be ripped up, but alternatives must be at least given real consideration. If ultimately this too proves unsuccessful, there will be no shame in having tried. As Lou Brock once said;

"Show me a guy who's afraid to look bad, and I'll show you a guy you can beat every time." 

A challenge awaits this team. They should not be afraid to attempt to change the destiny others have prescribed for them in the fear of humiliation at the hands of the Spaniards. Regardless the team will return home with the best wishes of the nation, and so too the manager for all he has achieved in guiding us to this moment. And rightfully so. If however, he feels that his players cannot adapt to subtle changes perhaps he should reconsider the professions of faith in their ability to which he is prone, as his words then are no more than empty rhetoric. There is no shame in losing tomorrow, the only shame, Mr. Trapattoni, will be in failing to give the players their due chance to compete.

Boston Bows Out
Changing of the Celtics Old Guard?


Saturday night the scoreboard above the American Airlines Arena court read;

 Boston Celtics 88- 101 Miami Heat

With that Boston's great stalwarts trudged to the depths of the arena, exalted and exhausted in equal measure, perhaps for the last time. The 'Big Three' of Ray Allen, Kevin Garnett and Paul Pierce may never be seen together again in the Celtics uniform to which they've given their all.

This group has achieved this season, what many predicted was impossible. Claims that the Celtics were over the hill and washed up were beginning to look justifiable. The franchise was nowhere before the All-Star break and even those within the locker room may have started to feel as if they were eventually losing the struggle to keep ahead in their race with time. Not that they said so publicly. Throughout all their early season struggles the message remained the same; keep telling us we're finished, we're gonna prove you wrong. And they did. A magnificent end to the regular season presented these Celtics with another shot at the playoffs. The Atlanta Hawks provided the first test and were eventually dispatched in six games. Next came the rejuvenated Philadelphia 76ers, playing they're first post season since Allen Iverson called the shots all the way back in 2003. The eighth seeds, who had already dispatched the of Chicago Bulls proved to be dogged advisories. It took seven, gruelling games for Boston's ageing superstars to see off Iguodala and Co. The reward? A re-match with old foes the Miami Heat.

The Heat do not enjoy playing this Celtics group. Plain and simple. Boston are not bowed by the presence of Miami's stellar line-up like others are. These guys have been around the block too many times to succumb to such weakness. Just like that, however, the Celtics charge to the NBA Finals was derailed, losing game seven in South Beach. The Heat may not like the Celtics, but that game seven defeat means they've now accounted for the Celtics post-season two years running. So the question that lingers over the group remains; have they perhaps been around the block one too many times? Has the time come to dismantle the most beloved Celtics team of recent times, and build for the future? Or will Danny Ainge give this group one last shot, and hold off until the 2013 off-season for rebuilding work to begin?


General consensus would dictate that the time for change has come, a transfusion of new blood be sought , and a time to begin anew embraced. The case is certainly not without merit;


1975 gave the league its now all time leading three point shooter Ray Allen;
1976 bestowed upon us one of the league's most ferocious competitors Kevin Garnett; and
1977 gifted us with 'the Truth'. LA kid turned Celtics captain, and 2008 Finals MVP Paul Pierce.


A long road has been travelled by all three. They won't admit it but perhaps in 2012 their time has finally come, as a Celtic at least.


The greatest uncertainty surrounds Garnett and Allen; both free agents. Neither, it seems, want to leave. KG has made no secret of his desire to remain involved in Boston. He didn't want to leave Minnesota in 2007 either, once he puts down roots he likes to stay and develop where he is. Considering the commitment to the organisation he gives every time he steps onto the court that's not hard to understand. Perhaps then Allen is most likely to seek pastures new, or be forced to seek such an adventure. After all he has been the least influential of the 'Big Three' this post-season during which he's been burdened with an ankle injury. He, though, has his sights firmly set on retaining his No. 20 Celtics uniform too and has let the world know he's still capable of playing for some time yet;

"I don't know what Kevin's situation is. There's a lot of basketball left in my legs, I know that for sure. So it's hard to say what can happen, what may happen."

It's a fine line Ainge and Doc Rivers must now thread. On the one hand, should they stick with the 'Old Guard' they might just find themselves not too far from a disastrous season delivered by players once great but now waning under the pressure of yet another season's toil on their limbs and joints. On the other, perhaps this group represents the best chance of success again next season. Especially given the relatively threadbare stockpile of free agency talent, it might just be that entrusting the 'Big Three' with delivering success again next season is the most prudent option. Try and surround these guys with a stronger bench and greater depth to give them more rest and things start to look altogether rosier for the current stars. Pierce's influence may be waning slightly but he remains a fine player, Garnett it seems would play until he were eighty if only the body would allow it, such is his spirit,  and who would bet against Allen being only an operation away from returning to his majestic best?



The biggest piece of the puzzle that has yet to be discussed is Rajon Rondo, Boston's exquisite mix of unpredictability, determination and execution that has steered this Boston ship to within a game of disposing of LeBron James and Co. Keeping Rondo in Boston, first and foremost, is crucial. This is his team now, and any future success will be built largely on his shoulders. Should the Celts decide its time for fresh faces they must ensure they attain the services of players that can march to the peculiar beat of Rondo's rhythm.

Simply put; Boston's most influential players off the off-season have been Rondo and Garnett. With Bass and Pierce likely to be in tow anyway next season, and the potential for Allen to recapture what is a most devastatingly beautiful jump-shot, is the prospect of re-signing both Garnett and Allen for another assault on the league really that outrageous? I certainly hope not. Whatever becomes of this team, Boston's 'Big Three' will be fondly remembered for their heart and their hunger, their desire and determination, as well as their talent. But ultimately, they will be remembered for their banner- even if it is to be, just one.

Book Review: The Big Short
by Michael Lewis


In June 2007 the American financial services sector, Wall Street in particular, was about to be jolted from its self-supposed omnipotent perch. The long and fruitful hibernation of its top-brass was ending as the greatest credit black hole ever created collapsed in upon itself. As Wall Street insulated itself from reality with ever increasingly profit margins , a seemingly trivial band of "misfits, renegades and visionaries" toiled countless hours to disprove the fallacy upon which the credit bubble had been built, and which would eventually prove to be its demise. The Big Short is their story. The story of their wisdom and foresight, their worries and doubts, and ultimately their conviction to bet against a system rotten to its core.

The protagonists of the story form three major groups, the fate of each unwittingly and solely joined by their perception of the U.S. Financial System and their incredible bets against it. In Cupertino, California a "one-eyed Aspergers sufferer" Michael Burry ploughs a lone furrow for what he hopes will be the makings of a great fortune, but of even greater importance; recognition of his existence by a society from which he has long been ostracised. Meanwhile, Charles Ledley and James Mai create Cornwall Capital from their garage in Berkley, California and quickly make a small fortune before inviting Ben Hockett to join their venture as they make an assault on the big-time and uproot to Wall Street. And finally, New York native Steve Eisman and his assistant Vincent Daniel from Queens set about righting a wrong; namely the injustice of the entire sub prime mortgage sector, and making a fortune in doing so.


As Lewis acknowledges in the book's Afterword, this is a narrative he is not used to telling. Whereas, he concludes, the stories he is accustomed to writing are essentially comic in nature, the story of the U.S. Financial System's collapse and the millions of lives it would devastatingly affect; was undeniably a tragedy. To his extensive credit he has managed to redeploy the literary Midas touch with which he is blessed, with the aplomb we have become accustomed to in previous works. The book, while littered with an unavoidable number of financial terms; instruments; abbreviations and concepts, attempts to remain true to its origin as a story and not a financial guidebook. At times navigation of the technical undergrowth that seeks to devour the story can be arduous, and for a graduate of an economics and finance degree, tinged with a little guilt! It is Lewis' greatest achievement, however, that, for the most part, what should feel like trudging through quicksand feels predominantly like the skimming of a stone on water. Only fleetingly and out of necessity is the reader submerged in the intricacies of the financial system . The author and the story carries the reader over the treacherous obstacles which might otherwise serve to make the book monotonous, perplexing and ultimately unappealing. By telling a tale of such financial woe & deception from the perspective of the protagonists the story retains a human feel, which provides a striking contrast to the moral vacuum described in the corridors of Wall Streets finest institutions. It is this that compels the reader to root for the likes of Eisman in a manner we would not usually do so. The protagonists are no longer financial analysts and bond traders to the reader, but crusaders against the will of a crooked system. While the author may contend that his book tells "a real life story so good that only its author could screw it up", I would offer the opinion that only a writer as talented as he could make the murky, arcane waters of high finance sufficiently clear as to be enjoyable for those of us not accustomed with the discourse of Wall Street.


Buy, Borrow or Burn?


If you have an interest the reality of a world you've lived in since mid 2007, and what went before to bring it to pass, its...


Buy!

English Mentality Set To Fail


The dial of the English sporting pysche has long been preset at 'delusions of grandeur'. As a sporting nation England has much to pride itself on. It is steeped in the history of many of our favourite sporting games and indeed can boast the founding fathers of more than a few too. Unfortunately this is part of the problem for many an English supporter nowadays. Rather than give rise to the gentle awakening of a nations hopes and dreams, the past glories of the English signal the onslaught of more the raucous emotions of expectation and self-entitlement. One need not delve too deep into the annals of time to find a litany of examples. David Haye and Andy Murray, as well as the national teams in football, rugby and cricket provide ample evidence of premature proclamations of greatness. Successive English competitors display great promise, not great achievement. Those of a more forgiving nature may point to Ashes victories, near-perfect qualifying campaigns and RWC performances as a specious counterbalance to the presented argument, but ultimately these are borne out of nothing more than delusion. Nine years ago a proud and fine English team did indeed reign supreme in Australia, but this alone stands as justification of what has otherwise been a bombardment of bluster  from supporter and media alike.

England- RWC 2003

The fortunes of the English football team and mood of the nation are permanent bed-mates, such is the importance of the former to the latter. In no other sphere of the sporting world has the cerebral distortion outlined above been more prevalent. As major competitions have come and gone so too have average teams, poor performances and of course the now customary solution; the great and omnipotent inquest. Only during these months of fastidious research does the hiatus of the general public come about, and the brief respite for those of us looking in from afar present itself. Of late ,though, one feels the mood has changed a little and the thirst for unlikely glory been quelled somewhat. Repetitive evidence to the contrary of one's held beliefs is always likely to induce a period off re-appraisal. Coupled with Fabio Capello's untimely resignation in February and the internal strife which forced him to take such a course of action, the pysche of the English is markedly altered from even two years previous at the World Cup in South Africa. If there were a tagline for preparations in the English camp thus far it would be 'no expectations'. It has nearly become the mantra of the players and has been adopted by the media with equal readiness. A welcome change, say the playing staff led by captain Steven Gerard. And not before time, the writer would venture to add. The current culture of, at best, reserved optimism has somewhat of an eerie feel about it however. A mere temporary abatement, the eye of the storm if you will. Should qualification from one of kinder groups at these championships be secured, prepare yourself. The welcome lack of expectation may transform from a simple by-product of the preparation process to the altogether more daunting catalyst for another array of prophecies as to the chances of success.


Regardless, the English have good players. They always have good players. At these championships they do pose a threat, and are capable of going far should they succeed in forming a coherent team unit which for once is greater or at least equal to the sum of its parts. The air of calm surrounding the team must be a welcome addition to preparation and as such it is reasonable to expect this is a happier camp than on previous occasions. All bodes well for a good run to the knockout stages, and in reality this is somewhat of a 'free-hit' for Roy Hodgson. He has as close to nothing to lose as makes no difference. Little is expected and so should his team board an early flight home, the backlash will be far weaker than before and he will be given time to build his own team regardless. Should, however, an unlikely victory be achieved Hodgson and his charges will return national heroes.

Roy Hodgson

It is for this reason I find Hodgson's apparent outlook baffling. He is presented with the greatest opportunity of his career at these championships; to make a team currently viewed as a group of underachieving misfits into champions of Europe. The recent withdrawal of Gary Cahill raises some serious questions as to how ruthless Hodgson is prepared to be in achieving this goal. Martin Kelly has been drafted into the squad as Cahill's replacement.

Gary Cahill was ruled out following a clash in warm up game vs. Belgium

On the surface Hodgson's choice may be justified. After all the English public have oft willed management to disregard the older members of this squad in recent years, and instead give youth a chance. Hodgson has now done so. The problem however, is that nobody in their right mind can claim that Kelly has earned his call up over Rio Ferdinand for "football reasons"as Hodgson has claimed. Through whichever rose tinted spectacles you care to peer, Ferdinand is simply not an inferior player to Kelly. The United man has been in exceptional form since half way through the season and played the last 16 games of the Premier League. Omitting him on form or indeed fitness simply does not add up. Building for the future is all well and good but the immediate future is Euro 2012. You are at a major tournament, you simply have to give yourself the best chance you can to win. You do this by picking the best players available, and Hodgson has not done so. His hands may be tied by the presence of Terry in the squad, but this simply exposes the foolhardiness of picking the Chelsea captain in the first place. Ferdinand, for my money has been in  better form than Terry, certainly seems less disruptive and was never going to pose such problems as having to call up a right back with two minutes international experience to cover a central defensive injury.
While Ferdinand and his representatives have been accused of sour grapes over the issue, the veteran defender is more than entitled to feel aggrieved.

A partnership we will not see at Euro 2012.

What has struck me most about the issue is not particularly Ferdinand's omission but the wider context in which the decision has been made. The English, long accused of over confidence have apparently come full circle. Before they expected to conquer all before them and obnoxiously told the world as such, and while the bubuzelas of South Africa might not have drowned out such cocksure claims, the performance of superior teams eventually reduced them to a whimper. Approaching Euro 2012 expectations have been reset and the shouting of the rooftops approach conspicuous only in its absence. Unfortunately, no honourable alternative has arisen. Instead their new manager has the contempt to treat the European Championships as an exercise in evasion. The consequences of his decision may seem minimal, but the idea it represents is much larger. His actions have reduced the promise of a new beginning and accompanying hunger of his players to what is now fast becoming a training exercise for players less deserving than others.