sic transit gloria.
I don't read Sid Lowe's Guardian column as often as I should, but this one caught my eye: The end is nigh for a player unable to cross great divide.
It's about Roman, and it has sparked some intense debate in the comment section, which is worth a read-through. Lowe's account includes some fairly lurid details about his downfall at Villarreal, and compares him to Beckham, in that he's a world-famous midfielder who's gone to pieces in a seemingly rapid and inexplicable manner. And, in Riquelme's case, his retirement from international duty, his refusal to attend practice, the repeated shots of him on the sidelines in Villarreal's last two games, and all of the other tiny news stories about him, have seemed to signal some kind of personal crisis. His production on the field has been steadily declining since that first, miraculous year with Villarreal, and perhaps it's starting to take a toll in his private life.
That's what Lowe seems to suggest, and although I don't know how much of this account is sensationalized, it remains evident that he has fallen out of favor at Pelligrini, and, more problematic, that he has lost a considerable amount of passion for the game, outside circumstances notwithstanding. Even if you choose to disregard the more speculative aspects of the column, Lowe did write something that I think is striking no matter what you believe:
Riquelme is a difficult, introverted character, porcupine-prickly, a man who needs constant reassurance and has to live entirely on his own terms, who utterly lacks the normal trappings of vanity but is vain nonetheless.
Vain nonetheless. It's startling to realize, time and time again, that I can never know a man except by his public appearances, and when this kind of thing happens to a hero, it's somehow worse. The wan determination that I've seen countless times on his face, the powerful swing of his leg on a free kick or penalty, and the physicality that we as football fans feel should represent everything a man has to offer all goes out the window when we get a glimpse into the mean, hidden places inside.
It would be foolish to say that I would love for football to be about the sport only, since footballers' lives can never be partitioned into games and their outside lives. And while Roman's legacy clearly lies with his football on the pitch, the trajectory of his career is something his fans will never truly understand, something only he can decipher.
It's about Roman, and it has sparked some intense debate in the comment section, which is worth a read-through. Lowe's account includes some fairly lurid details about his downfall at Villarreal, and compares him to Beckham, in that he's a world-famous midfielder who's gone to pieces in a seemingly rapid and inexplicable manner. And, in Riquelme's case, his retirement from international duty, his refusal to attend practice, the repeated shots of him on the sidelines in Villarreal's last two games, and all of the other tiny news stories about him, have seemed to signal some kind of personal crisis. His production on the field has been steadily declining since that first, miraculous year with Villarreal, and perhaps it's starting to take a toll in his private life.
That's what Lowe seems to suggest, and although I don't know how much of this account is sensationalized, it remains evident that he has fallen out of favor at Pelligrini, and, more problematic, that he has lost a considerable amount of passion for the game, outside circumstances notwithstanding. Even if you choose to disregard the more speculative aspects of the column, Lowe did write something that I think is striking no matter what you believe:
Riquelme is a difficult, introverted character, porcupine-prickly, a man who needs constant reassurance and has to live entirely on his own terms, who utterly lacks the normal trappings of vanity but is vain nonetheless.
Vain nonetheless. It's startling to realize, time and time again, that I can never know a man except by his public appearances, and when this kind of thing happens to a hero, it's somehow worse. The wan determination that I've seen countless times on his face, the powerful swing of his leg on a free kick or penalty, and the physicality that we as football fans feel should represent everything a man has to offer all goes out the window when we get a glimpse into the mean, hidden places inside.
It would be foolish to say that I would love for football to be about the sport only, since footballers' lives can never be partitioned into games and their outside lives. And while Roman's legacy clearly lies with his football on the pitch, the trajectory of his career is something his fans will never truly understand, something only he can decipher.