Henry labelled football's disingenuous genius
Posted to the Web: Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Thierry Henry has it all. He is charming, urbane, intelligent, good-looking and obscenely talented. To many, he is the nicest man in football. So why has his behaviour become so infantile? Henry is football’s disingenuous genius. His conduct yesMonday, when he goaded Chris Kirkland after Arsenal’s equaliser against Wigan, a reaction to Kirkland’s timewasting, was reprehensible in the extreme. As well as being embarrassingly undignified— this was Wigan at home, not the Champions League final, for heaven’s sake- it was also the second time Henry has pulled this stunt in recent weeks, having done something similar to Manchester United’s Gary Neville. There are some things you just do not do on a football field, things that shatter the sense of fellowship, however slender, that should always permeate a sporting contest: spitting, going over the top -and goading someone who has just conceded a goal. It is one of football’s unspoken laws: schadenfreude is not for sharing.
Goalscorers often say that, in the 10-second window after scoring, they do not know where they are; that they lose it completely. The same applies to those who concede. If scoring a goal is comparable to sex, then how can we qualify conceding a goal? Like coitus interruptus? Like seeing your loved one in an intimate pose with another? What is irrefutable is that, with the exception of serious injury, it is the worst, most numbing sensation that can be experienced on a football field and as such the sufferers should be afforded some respect. That 10-second window is a no-go zone, a line you do not cross. Henry’s antics were the football equivalent of trying to start a fight at a funeral.
The unacceptable nature of Henry’s behaviour is confirmed by the paucity of precedents. John Aldridge scrubbed Brian Laws’s hair after the latter had scored an own goal in the replayed FA Cup semi-final between Liverpool and Nottingham Forest in 1989; a year earlier Nigel Winterburn screamed deliriously in the face of Brian McClair after McClair lashed a last-minute penalty over the bar at Highbury. That was the catalyst for an antipathy between Arsenal and Manchester United that peaked at Old Trafford 15 years later when Martin Keown decided to inform Ruud van Nistelrooy that he had just missed a last-minute penalty, just in case he hadn’t realised.
It is frequently said that, because Henry is one of the world’s best players, he does not need to resort to such juvenile behaviour. That is irrelevant: it would be equally repugnant coming from Robbie Savage or Joey Barton. But everybody seems surprised by Henry’s no-more-Mr-Nice-Guy attitude. In reality, these antics are nothing new; Henry has always been a politician off the field and a law unto himself on it. In 2001 he had to be physically restrained from having a pop at the referee Graham Poll after a defeat to Newcastle.
Last May he made a complete fool of himself during and after the Champions League final, missing the sort of one-on-one he usually puts away in his sleep and then blaming the referee for Arsenal’s defeat during a farcically irrational rant. And he is prone to rail against diving one minute and feel his legs turn to jelly the next.
Even allowing for that, the incidents are becoming alarmingly commonplace. This season he has been an intoxicating concoction of brilliance and petulance. After the World Cup, one French team-mate referred witheringly to Henry’s “enormous melon”. He then went out of his way to try to undermine Arsène Wenger after being left out of the match against Spurs in December, before appearing on the touchline to celebrate Emmanuel Adebayor’s opening goal in a gesture so excruciatingly self-serving, so transparently phony, that even a teenager would have baulked at it.
Since then we have had the incidents with Neville and Kirkland. As the likes of Roger Federer, Andrew Flintoff and Tiger Woods have shown, greatness in sport is defined by so much more than performance.
Perhaps all this is a manifestation of Henry’s frustration at his decision to reject Barcelona in May, the angst of a man who erroneously chose to stay in an increasingly loveless marriage and now has no way out. Perhaps he is the rich man’s Matt Le Tissier, a big fish who does not have the bottle or inclination to jump into a bigger pond, and resents his weakness. Perhaps he is just getting old and grumpy.
Perhaps it’s just the way he has to be. The cliché goes that, if you took the fire from Steven Gerrard or Wayne Rooney’s belly, they would not be the same player. The same arguably applies to Henry’s arrogance. But that does not mean we should excuse it. Henry has spent years trying to change the perception that he is a big_game bottler. Yesterday, he nailed the one about him being the nicest guy in football once and for all.
http://www.vanguardngr.com/articles/2002/sports/february07/14022007/sp514022007.html
Finally someone realises how class-less Henry is.. wahaah.. nice read for both Arsenal fans and Arsenal haters