SOCCER:IT'S NOT too often any of us have something in common with Jose Mourinho, but last night, it seems, we did: he was watching on telly too.
He’d been banned from the dugout after being naughty during the first leg, but now, it seemed, he wouldn’t even be sitting in the stands.
Divil a sign of him.
“He was advised by the police not to go to the game,” TV3’s Matt Cooper explained, concluding that Jose was now the most divisive figure in Spain since General Franco. That might have sounded harsh, but you’d half assume the fella would wear it as a badge of honour.
Over on Sky, despite reporting from under a sizeable umbrella, Geoff Shreeves had the look of a saturated rat as he tried to update us on the ‘Where is Jose?’ mystery while standing on the Nou Camp pitch.
A soggy pitch it was too, Geoff somewhat dolefully showing how his shiny new shoes had disappeared into the Barcelona quagmire.
The news from Geoff was that there was no news at all, really, Real Madrid were remaining tightlipped about Jose’s whereabouts, possibly not even knowing themselves where he’d got to. And with that a man walked behind Geoff encased in an anorak, the all-engulfing hood revealing only his eyes. No flies on Jose, you have to say.
Up in the Gods Jeff Stelling was hoping a game of football would “break out” after last week’s bout in the Bernabeu, a theme echoed by TV3 who opted to bill the second leg as ‘Punch and Judy Round Two’.
As it proved, though, the only fireworks were in the sky above the stadium, Trevor Welch seizing the opportunity to note that “Mourinho brings his thunder to games, Messi supplies the lightening”.
But is he Lie-o-nel or Lee-nel? Own up: how many of you have assailed folk who called him Lie-o-nel? You know: “D’you think he was named after Lionel Richie, ya eejit?”
Eidur Gudjohnsen?
“It’s Lie-o-nel – his father was a big Lionel Richie fan,” the former Barca man told Jeff.
“Hello?,” said Jeff, Graeme Souness and Jamie Redknapp’s collective faces.
“I mean, what can you say,” said Jamie to that nugget of info, and he was no less gobsmacked by the stats that appeared on the screen: in 51 games this season Lie-o-nel had scored 52 goals. A Richie vein of form, you might say.
“Just wait ‘til he grows up,” said Mark Lawrenson back on TV3 as he watched Lie-o-nel slaloming his way around half the Madrid midfield and most of its defence.
He remained stuck on 52 goals, though, by half-time, the 45 minutes largely made up of football and not too much aggro, a disappointment for those of us so scandalised by the carry-on last week that we kind of wanted more of the same last night.
“What have Madrid got to do in the second half,” asked Matt.
“Well, they’ve got to do something different,” said Tony Cascarino, “but I don’t know what.”
Martin Keown was at a loss too, although he suggested Madrid “go after Messi”.
He wasn’t, needless to say, advocating grievous bodily harm, but just, maybe, a little taste of what he used to dish out to tricky forwards in his time. You know: a bit of ‘crash, bang, wallop, sorry ref!’.
All that class of treatment might do is daze Lie-o-nel a bit, without actually hurting him. Mind you, he wouldn’t be left half as dazed as those who learnt that Martin was an Irish dancer in his youth. Honest.
Surreal.
Second half. Still no sign of Jose, although the man in the big anorak was floating around. Just saying.
Ah, goal.
If it was possible to hang a pass in an art gallery then Andres Iniesta’s through ball for Pedro would be exhibit A. People would travel from every corner of the globe to view it, have their photos taken in front of it, and buy re-prints of it to adorn the spot on the wall over their fireplaces. Okay, okay, it was just a pass, but it was a thing of complete loveliness.
But then Madrid equalised with a paint-by-numbers job, and it was game on. Ish.
Barcelona, though, held out. We thought we saw a man in an anorak stomp out of the ground in a bit of a huff, but it might just have been the rain that dampened his spirits. Who’s The Special One now?
That’d be the Wem-ber-lee-bound Lie-o-nel.
