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The Archive

Articles from When Saturday Comes. All 27 years of WSC are in the process of being added. This may take a while.

 

Power games

Steve Wilson reports on how the race to become West Asian representative on FIFA’s executive committee turned personal

Asian football may lag behind its European and South American counterparts, but a recent election to fill the position of West Asian representative to FIFA’s executive committee proved they are a match for anyone when it comes to political back biting and mudslinging. The acrimonious campaign plumbed such depths, with allegations of mental illness, vote buying and personal vendettas, that it became too unpalatable even for Sepp Blatter, who was forced to play the unlikely role of moral arbiter. 

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Official denouncement

Lars Sivertsen examines the aftermath of the night which saw Chelsea defeated in the Champions League and a Noweigian referee abused

Didier Drogba was far from the only person to lose his cool as Chelsea’s elimination from this season’s Champions League was confirmed. The press-pack overlooked details like Chelsea having just 36 per cent of possession at home, being unable to defend a lead against a team down to ten men and Didier Drogba missing a number of chances – it was time for some referee-bashing.

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Empty promise

Simon Cotterill examines the legacy of half-filled stadiums from the 2002 World Cup

There was dismay in Japan and South Korea when FIFA announced in 1996 that the 2002 World Cup would be shared between them. The countries’ relationship was frosty at best and the bidding war between them had been fierce, bitter and expensive. Although shocked at FIFA’s unprecedented decision, both were at least relieved that they hadn’t actually lost the vote, and so set about trying to out-do each other by pumping billions into football facilities.

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Survival Sunday

Cameron Carter on Sky's relentless plugging of "Survival Sunday" and Gabby Logan's knees

Victor Lewis-Smith’s assertion that “alliteration is the leper’s bell of the idiot” came to mind in the last week of May as the newspapers and television collaborated to promote “Survival Sunday” (to go with “Super Sunday”, “Straightforward Saturday” and “Misplaced Monday”). Sky were so keen they had a countdown on Sky Sports News the day before: “Survival Sunday… 1 day, 3 hours, 25 minutes…”, just to remind you what an important day it was and also to be sure to refer to it as “Survival Sunday” when with your friends.

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Letters, WSC 269

Dear WSC
Bruce Wilkinson (WSC 267) pointed out that ticket queues “seem a quaint ritual of a bygone age”. Waiting in a virtual internet queue bears no similarity to lining up outside the box office. I have my tickets for the FA Cup final, but I do not feel as if I earned them. Instead of getting up in the middle of the night, crossing London, losing half a day’s work, standing in the rain shuffling forward inch by inch while nervous that there are too many punters and too few tickets, I merely sat in my dressing-gown in front the PC. There is no one to talk to in the “virtual waiting room”. Your opportunity is allotted randomly. Suddenly it’s all over and you have what you came for. One should be happier as the process is simple and efficient and the desired result achieved, but somehow it feels like a hollow victory as it lacks the sense of accomplishment joy and triumph of the old-fashioned process. You can’t even wave the tickets in triumph above your head as they are sent by post.Obviously my complaining about the changes that actually improve my life marks me down as “old”. I am not asking to bring back rickets and polio and to repeal the Factory Acts but I do miss a modicum of discomfort and inconvenience. The old experience was akin to standing on the terraces or being subject to the over-zealous policing that used to mark us out as a tribe. Under the new regime the tickets are yours if your broadband speed is faster and your credit card more golden than the next, rather than if you have more commitment stamina and perseverance.Will the ultimate progress be when we treat football like theatre and opera by dressing-up smartly for the occasion and ordering our interval drinks? Or is that Club Wembley?
Patrick Sheehy, London

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