When we watch football, do we watch it to satisfy a certain emotion? Is the game played to an audience that expects anxiety and yet minutes later rapture? Is football a metaphor for something deeper or metaphysical? Is it a re-enactment of military battles or does it represent something more conceptual? Is football art? Are certain sportsman bringing a more rugged, yet enduring piece of art to a mass market?
Football fans can breed an aura of ignorance or certainly blitheness to the comings and goings of their football team; and many of them are pigeon-holed as yobs or certainly trouble makers. However; if you compare the cost of following your football team over a season to going to the ballet or opera, then you would probably find that watching football comes at a higher premium. Football fans can be harangued as stupid people; why would someone want to follow something that often brings misery to your Saturday and where you have no control over the outcome? Football does not have the crescendo of an orchestra or the soliloquy of a play; yet its arbitrary and refreshing notions take it beyond the realms of higher art; it is safe to say that some footballers are artists themselves.
Two greats of the game, who transformed the way the English game is played and followed, are now curators to the game in another form. Dennis Bergkamp, the former Arsenal and Holland striker is now assistant manager at his boyhood club Ajax. Eric Cantona, the unforgettable Gallic king of Manchester United is now director of soccer of the reformed New York Cosmos. Both men, not necessarily the best players the Premiership has seen, but both brought an artistic deference that can never be murmured.
Anyone that saw Bergkamp control the ball and thread a pass could not mistake it for a work of a genius. His ability to think and play; intelligence is not necessarily an attribute that footballers are compensated with, yet his calmness and display on the pitch was a joy to watch for Arsenal and Holland. There isn’t a football fan who didn’t acknowledge the effortless brilliance of his goal in the quarter finals against Argentina.
Cantona’s mystique was something different. The arrogance of the upturned collar, he was a rebel; but not the teddy boy or punk rocker. He was thoughtful and delicate. His English appeared patchy (he is synonymous with strange adages), yet he was able to express his thoughts on the football pitch. His love of art and poetry from an early age may appear absurd to contrast with away matches against Coventry or Middlesbrough on a Saturday afternoon, yet Eric loved it all. This was his arena. He was a bullfighter and this was his show.
Neither of the two men were blessed with looks, nor the personalities to adore themselves to a family audience. However; art is fundamentally about expression of oneself and the environment around us. Both men employed their talents to define games, seasons and tournaments. Football may not have the prestige of La Scala or the Bolshoi but both men found their way to proclaim themselves and their history is etched on the backs of football shirts and club legend.
Football fans can breed an aura of ignorance or certainly blitheness to the comings and goings of their football team; and many of them are pigeon-holed as yobs or certainly trouble makers. However; if you compare the cost of following your football team over a season to going to the ballet or opera, then you would probably find that watching football comes at a higher premium. Football fans can be harangued as stupid people; why would someone want to follow something that often brings misery to your Saturday and where you have no control over the outcome? Football does not have the crescendo of an orchestra or the soliloquy of a play; yet its arbitrary and refreshing notions take it beyond the realms of higher art; it is safe to say that some footballers are artists themselves.
Two greats of the game, who transformed the way the English game is played and followed, are now curators to the game in another form. Dennis Bergkamp, the former Arsenal and Holland striker is now assistant manager at his boyhood club Ajax. Eric Cantona, the unforgettable Gallic king of Manchester United is now director of soccer of the reformed New York Cosmos. Both men, not necessarily the best players the Premiership has seen, but both brought an artistic deference that can never be murmured.
Anyone that saw Bergkamp control the ball and thread a pass could not mistake it for a work of a genius. His ability to think and play; intelligence is not necessarily an attribute that footballers are compensated with, yet his calmness and display on the pitch was a joy to watch for Arsenal and Holland. There isn’t a football fan who didn’t acknowledge the effortless brilliance of his goal in the quarter finals against Argentina.
Cantona’s mystique was something different. The arrogance of the upturned collar, he was a rebel; but not the teddy boy or punk rocker. He was thoughtful and delicate. His English appeared patchy (he is synonymous with strange adages), yet he was able to express his thoughts on the football pitch. His love of art and poetry from an early age may appear absurd to contrast with away matches against Coventry or Middlesbrough on a Saturday afternoon, yet Eric loved it all. This was his arena. He was a bullfighter and this was his show.
Neither of the two men were blessed with looks, nor the personalities to adore themselves to a family audience. However; art is fundamentally about expression of oneself and the environment around us. Both men employed their talents to define games, seasons and tournaments. Football may not have the prestige of La Scala or the Bolshoi but both men found their way to proclaim themselves and their history is etched on the backs of football shirts and club legend.
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