Football Commentary - A Reflection on the Confederations Cup 2003

Sean O'Conor

I am still not decided which was more Mickey Mouse: The football tournament I attended or the trip I made to Paris Disneyland on the last day.

'Those whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad' goes the phrase. So by that logic Herr Blatter is on a non-stop ticket to destruction. However, madness never stopped his football father Joao Havelange hanging on miserably as FIFA President until 1998, way beyond his insane-by date.

The old Brazilian bastard, now well into his eighties, even appeared, phantom-like, on the Stade de France's big screen at one point during the Final. The crowd's reaction was pin-droppingly silent. When a real Brazilian football hero, Pelé, (whom we must not forget Heavylunge selfishly and unforgivably banned from all publicity for USA '94) then appeared, the 51,000 all joyfully sang his name. Unfortunately the madness has passed down a generation to Seppy and the Confederations Cup offered cast-iron proof this summer.

That the tournament is intrinsically ridiculous goes without saying. How many Europeans even knew it was on until Foé died? How many of us knew there had been three already (won by Brazil, Mexico and France by the way)? And what is it for? We already have the World Cup to pit nations from around the globe against each other. Brazil and Turkey, the two participants who had finished highest in last Summer's World Cup, didn't send their stars and even the USA rested Friedel, Reyna and O'Brien, thereby confirming the B-list status of the show. Brian McBride, correctly, decided that the birth of his child was more important than the tournament though you can't imagine him doing that last summer.

In its defence, as When Saturday Comes rightly pointed out, there have often been three or four-sided Summer tournaments like England's Umbro Cup or America's Nike Cup, or do you remember England's tour under Graham Taylor of the Far East and Australasia? And given the addictive habit of clubs, and indeed associations, to view every available slot in the football calendar as a potential money-spinner, games of questionable worth scheduled after the regular season has ended and all the players and fans are well and truly jaded are sadly here to stay.

No, what I objected to was the seriousness with which Blatter & co have taken this baby on. There was no need to confer such phony importance on it. By organizing an event under FIFA's auspices with all the confederation champions and getting the great and the good in their blazers to turn up they unavoidably demeaned the whole thing. All summer tournaments should be considered as friendlies so all the blazers, red carpets and the quasi-religious symbolism accorded the publicity ('The sacred tournament' cried the posters bizarrely with an iconic image of a knight bowing down before a queen in medieval garb having apparently brought back the Holy Grail) in France should have been banned. But given the FIFA set-up and the invited guests that was going to be impossible.

Thankfully the half-empty stadia confirmed the hollowness of Blatter's dream. What was he thinking of when he conceived it short of Mitterand-esque megalomania? Surely he must have known it would be more derided than lauded. Then there was poor Marc-Vivien Foé, whose shocking death categorically removed any respect the tournament had won though of course we cannot blame Blatter at all for what will always be a most unexpected and tragic accident.

Ironically then the world took notice of Blatter's baby and the sense of fraternal unity that infused the final's atmosphere brought some worth to the whole thing being there. Nevertheless, when Sepp's appearance at the awarding ceremony, elicited a universal booing from the audience present, you felt he somehow deserved it, though his aggrandized introduction from a stupid PA announcer had set the trap quite sweetly.

The bloated whale's waddle to the teams, head bowed in respect for Foé but looked like shame, was redolent of a salesman who had sold everyone tickets to a party that had turned out to be the dampest of squibs and then suffered a stroke of the cruelest luck to cap the farce. As if we hadn't had enough of The Madness of King Seppy, it was announced late in the tournament that FIFA had u-turned on the expansion of 36 for the World Cup Finals (fair enough) and on giving Oceania an automatic place therein. Oceania, exasperated by Blatter's pendular pronouncements is now asking to be disbanded! This man's madness can be destructive.

I don't want to sound completely negative about the whole thing as I enjoyed my holiday immensely and got to speak to the US players. I could have been much more scathing: World Soccer editor Keir Radnedge called it “tawdry and unnecessary…tarnished almost beyond recognition…an unethical cheapening and demeaning of the beautiful game…football prostitution”.

I said to myself I would forget how pointless the whole thing was and just enjoy it, and I did. Though I must say reading the conflicting reports of why the final was played (did the Cameroon players opt to play independently or was Blatter insisting they had to?) has been unnerving.

So having been to eight matches at the tournament I freely accept any accusations of hypocrisy. But I went because the USA is rarely in Europe and once there I thought why not see countries I had never seen play before, especially as the tickets were about a third of the price of Premiership ones. But that's just it.

Real fans go for love of their teams however exploited they are and however Mickey-mouse the competition is. Whether this tournament happens again I don't care but there will be no surprises if from now on, the phrase 'Confederations Cup' is never seen without the prefix 'ill-conceived' before it. Love is still blind, especially in football.

Sean O'Conor

You've read the piece; now have your say contact the editor.

"The Onside In-Site" Copyright © From 2000. All rights reserved. Soccerphile Ltd.