Manchester United vs Arsenal

A potential classic...

But then, that is what I said about the Barcelona vs Chelsea game yesterday and I more or less dozed for most of the game. 

Arsenal's defence has never been that good this season and last, and Man U have one of the most potent set of forwards in Europe. Arsenal will probably edge it possession wise, but the question on most Arsenal fans' minds is whether that possession, this time, will translate into goals. 

Quite a number of contrasts: Man U have been there, and done that, (2 UCL cups, many more league titles) while Arsenal have never won that UCL and have had to endure 4 seasons without any silverware.

Man U's defence of late has not been as air tight as when they went 10 games without conceding a goal (though against arguably 'average' opposition). 

Man U will probably win the English Premiership this time round ahead of bitter rivals Liverpool.

Previously, in the days of Keane vs Viera, before the age of the Oligarch, games between the two tended to be rather heated affairs (anyone recall Pizzagate? Cesc maybe?). However, currently, both Wenger and Fergerson enjoy a considerable level of mutual respect - maybe age has something to do with it? There's also a level of mutual respect among the two teams with Cesc saying that they are the best team in the world currently (that coming from a Catalan is something), and Vidic saying that he'll need to be at his best to cope with the threat that Adebayor poses.

Should be an interesting watch... so whatever side you are of the 'divide', have fun ... and don't go overboard.

AN ‘ALBUM’ WAS A MUST HAVE

Its said that a pictures is worth a thousand words. How apt. While flipping through my photo album the other day, a collection of about half a dozen snaps got me thinking of those prized items every boy of a certain age-group longed to possess during my primary school days. An ‘album’ was that highly prized and much coveted paraphernalia which we boys went to all lengths to painstakingly build from old newspaper photo cuttings from the sports pages, stuck together with bubble gum on some tattered scrap books (old exercise books). Needless to say, the content of any ‘album’ would exclusively be snap shots from both local and international football action.

The bigger the variety of photos in your ‘album’, the greater the self-esteem you would command within the young fanatically fan base clique. A couple of coloured photos in your album made for an expert collector [back then, a colour photo on the newspapers was a rarity]. Predictability, albums were banned accessories in school but more often than not, a few daring souls would sneak their crude contrabands into class to gleefully display to their smitten classmates in between lessons. It can only be left to the imagination the kind of punishment our overly strict educators of the day meted out on any cheeky fellow (and his accomplices) found in possession of these illicit paraphernalia. Shamefully, a chronic deficiency of old newspapers in our household meant that I never I got to own an album; something I rue to this day.

At the risk of being branded old-fashioned, I dare say that, to me, that was the height of ingenuity. Long gone are the ‘albums’ - the passion and grief they elicited not withstanding. Instead of the daily kick-about we indulged in on dusty play grounds, the modern kid now has the Play Station. And for our obscure ‘albums’, he has an autograph booklet. Whatever became of innovation?

But I digress. I was talking about my photo album – the real one. In the midst of these nostalgic memories, my attention is sharply drawn by this small collection of photos that I once took from the stands of some little known football ground in Naivasha. Honestly, there is nothing really impressive about the quality of these photos, having been taken by the amateur photographer that I am. Worse still, is the fact that the camera in use was a cheap manual Kodak model that I got a few years ago as part of the promotion package when I bought my now faded and malfunctioning Motorola 110 cellphone. Ironically, these priceless photos truly occupy the centerpiece of my album – of course for obvious reasons which have everything to do with football. And the story around these photos is a rather interesting one.

Sometime back in 2005, towards the end of the 2006 FIFA World Cup qualifiers, a star-studded Ghanaian national team quietly checked into the country and found their way to Naivasha town where they pitched camp at the luxurious lakeside Simba Lodge. The high flying Black Stars were making a training camp stopover en-route to Cape Town for their penultimate tie against the Bafana Bafana. For some reason our befuddled football administration seemed reluctant to accept the West African’s request for a much-needed International friendly match. For Harambe Stars, who themselves had an upcoming encounter against Morocco, this was a God-send opportunity for an invaluable build-up match against one of the stronger African sides. Regrettably, the opportunity came and sadly passed us by, all thanks to KFF!

Deprived of a meaningful match-up with their host, the West African football giants were thus left to do with routine mid-morning training sessions at the nondescript Oserian Stadium – formerly the home of two time Kenya Premier League champions, Oserian Fastac. A day before their departure down south, the Ghanaian officials hastily arranged for an ‘international friendly’ against the fledgling Oserian FC – a revived version of the defunct Oserian Fastac.

Time and chance conveniently placed me, then, at the flower farm through professional vocation for a once in a lifetime opportunity to meet and rub shoulders with renowned football celebrities. The Ghanaian contingent boasted big names. In the house was captain Stephen Appiah, goalkeepers Richard Kingstone and Sammy Adjei and of course the biggest attraction was none other than Chelsea midfield dynamo Michael Essien. This was a match I wasn’t gonna miss for anything in the world!

But then, being a weekday (Wednesday) the problem of poor timing of the match (3pm) was always going to pause a small challenge. After some long and serious consideration, I firmly resolved to cut my working hours by a good two hours. Amid all the anxiety to sneak out of the office unnoticed, I completely forgot to carry along my autograph book! But thank God for my cheap Kodak camera… I ended up with half a dozen snap shots of Africa’s finest.

Just for the records, the ‘Black Stars’ hardly broke any sweat in walloping Oserian FC 4-0 during that match. A few days later in Cape Town, the Stephen Appiah led team upset Bafana Bafana 2-0. Meanwhile our own Harambe Stars could only muster a 1-1 draw at home to Morocco in a match blotted by the death of a teenage fan following a stampede. The Ghanaians eventually won their group to book a flight to Germany for a first ever World Cup finals appearance as Kenya were trounced 2-0 by the Carthage Eagles of Tunisia before an empty gallery at Kasarani to crash out.

Brazil to train in Nairobi

Very interesting by the East African Standard... keeping in mind that it's April 1st.. 

MAKING HEY WHILE THE STARS DIM

Kenya’s 3-match winning run a home in the 2010 World Cup qualifiers came to a grinding halt at the hands of Tunisia’s ‘Carthage Eagles’ last Saturday. Shabik’s De’ Stefano was on location to deliver a blow by blow account of the sequence of events.

1) The Preparation

2:05 pm - Am still at home, less than 2 hours to kickoff, but I need a fast shower!
2:15 pm - I grab a quick bite.
2:25pm - Am literally dashing out of the hao. I hear its raining those sides of tao I hate bebaing a brollie… I don’t have to.
2:35pm - I hop into the first mat that pulls up at my stage. Traffic aint mbaya, should be there within the next 35-40 minutes.
3:00pm - a potentially terrible traffic is beginning to build at the Langata Road-
Mbagathi Way-Mai Mahiu Road roundabout with absolutely no traffic cop in sight.
3:10pm - The Brrrrr Stadium. Wow! Unbelievable, the crowd that is here. A huge crowd is milling around the gate on the Nairobi West side, where the flow of traffic has been greatly hampered.
3:12pm - I try circumventing the long queues here and checkout the other entry
points on the eastern side. Hard luck. The queues are longer and the crowd more chaotic.
3:25pm - The heavens sudden open; its pouring like nobody’s business and part of
the crowd is scampering for shelter on the fringes of the parameter wall.
-Police on horsebacks are not helping either as they attempt to ward off the surging crowd.
-The the existing queues don’t same to be moving either. Damn it! Will I really make it in at this rate?
3:30pm - Still yet to find a queue that looks relatively short.
3:45pm - Back on the western wing. I find a queue which has snaked its way to the
parking lot in front of the main entrance. This one seems shorter and less chaotic, so I join in. It’s moving…
4:06pm - Am through the turnstile! Oh my God! The Coca Cola stadium is
literally bursting on its seams… Incredible! Why on earth did I loan out my digital camera?
- No time to waste, up the terraces I scale.

2) The Action

4:07pm - Kickoff. I’ve taken my seat.
4:13pm - A lucky strike on the murky surface gifts the Tunisians goal number one.
4:17pm - Stars are chasing the game. Towering Tunisian captain Radhi Jaidi nearly
concedes an own goal under great pressure from Denis Oliech.
4:22pm - Oliech heads agonizingly close from a looped pass by Robert Mambo.
4:44pm - The sun finally breaks through the clouds on the western side of the stadium.
4:55pm - Halftime.
Tunisia 1: Kenya 0

[Such a wonderful atmosphere inside the stadium. Flags, blurring horns and from a distant, the faint sound of the ‘Isikuti’ all add up to the pomp and fanfare. One in every five people is clad in the Star’s white replica jersey; many faces are painted black, red and green. Lots of beautiful women are also in the house, mostly in the company of jamaas]
*** *** ***
5:11pm - Kipindi cha lala salama.
5:26pm - As the Stars are pressing for an equalizer, a ‘Mexican Wave’ flows 4 times around the stadium.
- The Tunisians seem content in letting the Stars string their passes around.
5:35pm - Yeeeeesss!! Denis Oliech does it again and the roof comes down!!
5:38pm - Heartbreak… Goal number two for Tunisia.
5:42pm - Robert Mambo strike the crossbar with a powerful header.
5:50pm - Fans begin streaming out. Technically we are a beaten side now. All that huffing and puffing comes to naught.
6:01pm - Final whistle.
Tunisia 2: Kenya 1

[Time to take a brief moment of reflection on the terraces as the multitude of fans makes it way out. Am disappointed we’ve lost a game we should have won; but am proud of our boys who’ve gone down fighting.]

The Aftermath

Sunday, Maputo – Hosts Mozambique contrive an unlikely scoreless draw against a coy Nigeria even after having 2 ‘goals’ disallowed. As it stands now in Group 2:

Team P W D L GF GA PTS
1. Tunisia 1 1 0 0 2 1 3
2. Mozambique 1 0 1 0 0 0 1
3. Nigeria 1 0 1 0 0 0 1
4. Kenya 1 0 0 1 1 2 0


So there you have it folks, things look abit thick at the moment. It’s bad enough that we lost our first game at home and even worse that our next stop will be in Lagos on 7th June against group favourites, the Super Eagles.

Its gonna be a tough match for us because Nigeria will not be willing to drop any more points so as to stay in touch with Tunisia who at worst can only draw at home to Mozambique over the same weekend. Furthermore Mozambique’s stellar performance against Nigeria should serve as a warning to us that perhaps they are not the pushovers we all thought they are.

That leaves us in a very precarious position. Its really grim but considering the poor travelers that we are (we’ve never beaten Nigeria home, away or ‘anywhere’, for that matter), I see us still rooted at the bottom of the group after the second round of matches.

Lessons Learnt
• Lesson No. 1: Always take the words of a been-there-done-it sage seriously. Former Harambee Stars coach, Mohammed Kheri, sounded an early warning before the match that the Tunisians have a knack for scoring early goals. We conceded a 6th minute goal…
• Lesson No. 2: It’s true that you are most vulnerable within the first two minutes of scoring a goal. That’s when you momentarily let down your guard and whack! The sucker punch. The Tunisians went ahead again only 3 minutes after we equalized.
• Lesson No. 3: It’s also true that Oliech is the fulcrum the entire team revolves around and that we tend to over relay on him. The AJ Auxerre hitman accounts for 5 of the 9 goals we’ve scored so far.
• Lesson No. 4: And finally, on match day, ensure you are at the venue 3 or 4 hours before kickoff; Kenyans are well known for the last minute rush…

THE STADIUM – EVERY FAN’S ABODE

“Football is a game of the gentlemen watched by thugs… Rugby is a game of thugs watched by gentlemen and Golf is a game of the gentlemen watched by gentlemen…” these are the famous words of Prime Minister Raila Odinga as once quoted during a rare day out at the golf course together with his nemesis-turned-partner President Mwai Kibaki.

In as much as the man must have made his rib tickling off-the-cuff remark purely to lighten up the otherwise informal occasion, it was a statement that anyone whose ever set foot on a football or rugby pitch must have concurred with – only that the modern day rugby player is becoming an increasing suave athlete.

But all that is beside the point. Any serious sports fan, will agree that nothing beats the experience of catching the action ‘real time’ on location as the drama unfolds. Forget about all those beer guzzling armchair/barstool fans that are perversely taking over sport. The stadium -football, rugby or otherwise- is a special place to be in if you want a piece of the real ‘action’. The stadium is the real deal - a shrine, a sacred place, some sort of a sports’ follower’s ‘Mecca’ - a place where every serious fan should occasionally take pilgrimage purely to unwind if not to fellowship with other devotees.

Personally, some of my most memorable excursions happen to have been at the rugby grounds. Having transferred to Nakuru midway through high school after my family moved from Nairobi, I took up rugby as a sport. Coincidentally, our new neighbourhood happened to have been just a stone throw away from the Nakuru Athletic Club, literally. Infact, from the balcony I could comfortably follow proceedings on any match day undeterred. But then, just to get up and close to the action, attending the Great Rift 10 Aside tourney became a ritual that I religiously observed year in year out, just before schools opened for the 2nd term.

The atmosphere was always sizzling - for two straight days! And the crowd? There is one particular guy by the name Arigi who was something of a permanent phenomenon during theses events. Although many rugby followers will recall that Arigi owed his allegiance totally to University of Nairobi’s Mean Machine, over the years he gained notoriety (or perhaps popularity) as the official cheerleader of the students’ team who would seized every opportunity available to relentlessly engage the opposing fans in a lighthearted banter. Regardless though, his touchline antics, with a barrage of brickbats to boot, were always worth all the while.

If the rugby grounds were a standup comedian’s launch pad- ala Arigi, then the football stadium must have been a hooligan’s paradise. During my primary school days, this is the one place that I vividly recall my old man admonishing us from exploring. His concern was obviously borne out of fear that such ventures would inevitably expose us to the hoodlums who were a commonplace at the football arenas. But being the brats that we were, the temptation to sneak out every Saturday afternoon was often overwhelming.

Ironically, most of the times - being kids - the much prized match tickets were way too prohibitive. For all our troubles, we often found ourselves cooling our heels at the gates for a good part of the match, only to be let in through the benevolence of the gatekeepers barely ten minutes to the end of the game. ‘Ten Percent’ was the common parlance for this little misadventure back then.

Thankfully, all that is a thing of the past. Nowadays I can afford the occasional match ticket. The only worrying trend is the shrinking crowds, which have dampened the once memorable stadium experience. Gone are the days of the bitter rivalry pitting Gor Mahia and AFC Leopards that would practically bring all business in town to a standstill on the day of the big derby. The intensity and hype of the pre-match buildup and thereafter the celebration parties that would often degenerate into running battles between the two group of fans by far makes the so called Man U-Arsenal charades in Nairobi’s drinking holes a mere child’s play.

But its not all gloom to those who, like me, still hold the beautiful game close to heart. For me, the football stadium remains the choice destination on any Saturday afternoon. Yes, the matches are rather drab but all the sideshows by devout and passionate fans on the terraces makes up for all the bad football.

Kenya - Tunisia

I am wondering how this game will go. Kimanzi was doing a good job, had (in my opinion) an appreciation for varying tactics depending on the game, and had potential to be Kenya's best homegrown coach ever. That is until 'other' interests took over.

Not sure about Hey. It is too early to judge his ability, but many guys are resigned to losing to Tunisia. Check out this discussion thread on stockskenya.com

Of course I hope Kenya beat Tunisia soundly, but I'm not holding my breath.

A HATE MAIL TO ENGLISH FOOTBALL FANS

Am one disgruntled football fan spoiling for a bare-knuckled fight! The so called ‘withdrawal symptoms’ have set in way too early for me. And that, for a very good reason. I woke up last Wednesday to the shocking and devastating news of the humiliating spanking that my beloved Real Madrid suffered at Liverpool the previous night (the scoreline is a bit embarrassing, I prefer not to state it for now).

Prior to the match, one like-minded yet immensely candid fan put it plainly to me that considering the beaten road that the los Merengues have taken in recent years in the competition, they stood not even half a chance at Anfield. In retrospect, I now realize I shouldn’t have bothered to ask for a second opinion in the first place.

But then of course every football fan worth his salt sets ‘SMART’ objectives for his team at the beginning of every season. Regrettably, with that drabbing at the hands of Liverpool, one of my own ‘SMART’ objectives for the 2008-2009 season just went up in smoke.

In football, back-to-back defeats to any one opponent – and while at it, shipping a bucketful of goals without scoring – is bad enough. But losing home and away to a struggling and colourless English team of Liverpool’s ilk is something that closely borders a disaster, a tragedy – nay, a scandal!

Maybe I should come out more clearly and boldly state that I’ve never had any love for English teams. All football fans have their idiosyncratic prejudices. Perhaps that’s just one of my own. It’s allowed in this game. For that very reason, I recently gave up watching the much-hyped English Premiership at my local pub every Saturday afternoon. This is a decision I reached upon stumbling on a very important awakening. Its all about the element of chauvinism, the cockiness exhibited in the English game. From those loud-mouthed managers, controversy-plagued players to downright ignorant fans (some in as far-flung places as downtown Nairobi) English football is the epitome of an over-rated, over-priced and over-publicized show.

How sickening it is listening to that tired age-long argument about Man U and Arsenal on those slow Sunday afternoons when all you want is to enjoy the game over a pint or two. Oh, and the degree of ignorance? Massive, for lack of a better word. Picture this; last Saturday at one of my family member’s house-warming bash am accosted by this gorgeous lady – an acquaintance from a previous social gathering. During our brief conversion, Cindy (for that’s her name) volunteers information to the effect that she is a diehard Man U fan, never mind the fact that she doesn’t understand the simplest of the game’s rules like an off-side. Now, fancy that for your average English football fan! Her display of bewilderment when I nonchalantly stutter that I feel nothing for her team or any other English team, for that matter, was all too obvious.

Suffice to say, we didn’t strike it off well with Cindy and I left it at that. My wildest guess is that my convoluted perspective of the game did very little to endear me this drop-dead beauty. And I bet it won’t endear me, either, to the many lovers of the English game – not by one long shot. What am sure of though, is that by bravely sticking out my neck, I’ve practically turned into a laughing stock. For now, you guyz can ha ha ha all you wanna, but rest assured Real Madrid will live to fight another day.