There was something of a relief in not being in the UK during the build up to the World Cup. Every four years since 1966 I have been part of a ritual that involves unreasonable hope followed by crushing disappointment. At least I started this tournament with bragging rights for my country having qualified which is more than the US team managed.
Having the opportunity to watch three games a day before the pace slows for the round of sixteen is one of the great binge-watching experiences. The fashion for a high press, excellent coaching and high levels of fitness have already made it an enthralling competition. Sadly, the commentators are not performing to the same levels and their plodding search for new similes, metaphors and descriptive words is plumbing unparalleled depths.
I am not averse to new words entering the sport’s vocabulary but it always seems better if it has the flourish of another language. We have learnt the ‘gegenpress’ in recent years, just as we learnt ‘catenaccio’ and ‘libero’ in years gone by. And if English is involved it needs to be associated with era-defining players – the Maradona-spin, the Cruyff-turn, Rivelino’s ‘flip-flap’ – who invented new ways of thrilling us.
But far too much from the commentators is average, unhelpful and annoyingly nonsensical. My first warning came with the phrase ‘double combination’ which I am still scratching my head about. It was used three times in different circumstances but appeared to mean two consecutive passes between team-mates.
The problem with the phrase is that it opens up the possibility of ‘triple combination’ and ‘quadruple combination’. With possession football the norm I wonder if we end up with ‘combination to the power twelve.’ ‘Double combination’ probably has a place in commentating on competitive drinking – a sport I think deserves a place in the Olympics – but it is not needed in football.
More ubiquitous and even more annoying is talking about play at the ‘top of the box’. It’s totally unacceptable after I spent decades organising defensive lines on the ‘edge of the box’ and reason is on my side. There’s a line that defines the penalty area – the ‘box’ in question – and it does not have a top or bottom.
I would accept the notion of an incident at ‘the top of the D’ although its curvature makes its ‘top’ a problematic concept. Trivia point, for those who have ever wondered, is that the arc of the D adjoining the penalty box ensures no player encroaches closer than ten yards at a penalty kick. I am reasonably sure Euclid was a Sunday league referee in ancient Greece who was inspired to write his mathematical treatise ‘Elements’ to show how ‘a closed segment of a differentiable curve’ could support the laws of the game.
Next point of contention was an analyst banging on about passing to players ‘in the seam’. Tailoring metaphors have their place in the game and we can all accept the long history of a ‘pin-point’ pass or ‘threading the ball through’. But the demise of hand-stitched clothing and the common acceptance of ‘in the channel’ means that a further clothes-making reference is superfluous to requirements.
We have to call a halt because there is something very wrong about a ragged defensive line being called a ‘dropped hem’. A skilful but less than whole hearted player who is more ornament than use to the team should not be known as ‘gimp’ – a narrow ornamental trim used in sewing or embroidery. And the mind would truly boggle if a substitution to strengthen the defence became known as ‘introducing a gusset’
My annoyance at the butchering of the language came to boiling point in the game where, in quick succession, the goal was called ‘the frame’, the crossbar was on defined as ‘the upper post’ and the shorter of the four lines enclosing the pitch was called the ‘end line’. No, no and thrice no. I quote from the 17 Laws of Soccer recognised by the International Football Association ‘At each end of the field is an eight-yard-wide goal centred along the goal line’.
A ‘frame’ is, generally speaking, what you use to enhance a favoured picture and does not do justify to the 192 sq ft ‘goal’ of every attacking move. A ball crossed to the near post or far post is common but ‘Upper Post’ is a lake in Wisconsin and even if the striker leaps like a salmon the term will never replace the staunchly prosaic ‘crossbar’. And while the ‘end line’ exists in American Football, it is at the end of the ‘end zone’ which should be an end to its use.
I have read that Fox, who hold comprehensive screening rights in the US, chose not to invest in the very best commentators when it became clear that the US team would not feature. One consequence is having Warren Barton, a journeyman midfielder/defender in his day, suggesting how Uruguay’s world-class strikers Cavani and Suarez can improve their attacking prowess. Such a shame because the rich vernacular of the game has developed over many years and the finest exponents of commentating bring real texture and insight to a match.
Exclude from all the above is the wonderful Jorge Perez-Navarro whose breathless enthusiasm defies all cynicism and, on some occasions, all understanding. He never uses one word when three will do – a recent game was ‘nil-nil, zero-zero, scoreless’ – and his magnificent prelude to a free-kick attempt on goal – ‘ready, aim, fire’ – is the work of a real fan. But it is his lung-bursting exclamation of any ‘Goooooooaaaaaalllll’ that captures the sheer happiness and exuberance of being a fan as well as a commentator.
FURTHER NOTES (AND TRIVIA)
I am reminded that the D on the edge of the penalty box is an arc of a full circle of 10 yards diameter centred on the penalty spot. In that sense the D is a segment of the circle. A full circle of ten yards diameter is also centred on the centre spot to ensure players are 10 yards distant when a kick-off is taken. A football pitch is a thing of symettrical beauty which plays host to all the tensions and truths of both mathematics and human nature. I am grateful to the Rhind Mathematical Papyrus (1700BCE), Plato’s Seventh Letter (353BCE) and Book 3 of Euclid’s Elements (300BCE) for their seminal work on circles. Also, thanks to Carl Louis Ferdinand von Lindemann for his proof that π (pi) is a transcendental number.