There are times when the modern global obsession with football can be exhausting. Why do so many people from so many places care so much? What drives the endless banter, Ronaldo fundamentalists, conspiracy theories about the predominance of rulers from the Northwest? Why is this the focus rather than the seemingly more pressing concerns of the escalating energy crisis, spiraling inflation and a worrisome new prime minister? Why do we bother more with Erik Ten Hag’s compromising on Ajax principles than with Ukrainian counter-attack tactics?
And then you get weeks like this when you realize that a file Premier League It is the greatest drama ever written. And like the best literature, it contains multitudes. On the one hand, there is a caveat. Poor Brighton. You are one of the very few clubs that are not owned by a hedge fund, public investment fund, sheikh, referee, or tax exile. You are owned by a local boy who has become a well-rounded, childhood fan. You feed for years. You put the plans in place. You created a smart recruitment department. Find an innovative and simple manager that fits your model. You impress but for one thing: don’t turn your chances.
Then suddenly you break it. You are Winning at Old Trafford For the first time in your history. You are compact and well organized. Put Five Hours Leicester. You are sitting fourth at the table. You are two points off the top. You know it probably won’t happen, but this is a weird season. The calendar is absurdly compressed. You do not participate in the European competition. It does not mean that many of your players will participate in the World Cup that will interrupt the season. Not likely but maybe… Maybe there’s a chance of getting into the European League, the Champions League, maybe even a little chance of a repeat The Glorious Freak of Leicester …
Come down the fleshy capital fist. Don’t bother dreaming. This wasn’t the 1960s, when Alf Ramsey could lead Ipswich to the title. It’s not the seventies, when Brian Clough managed to win the league with Derby and Nottingham Forest. It’s not until the ’80s, when Graham Taylor could lead Watford to second. It is modernity, when the super-rich must devour the slightest sign of promise.
You can’t blame Graham Potter for joining Chelsea, more than you can blame him Mark Cucurella to go In the summer, or Yves Bisoma Join Spurs. There is a clear ladder and if you want to win prizes you have to climb it; Just as Potter climbed the stairs when he left Swansea for Brighton. But frustratingly, the moral of the story is that no matter how smart you are, football is a world where money always trumps intelligence.
Brighton is an example of how to run a club successfully without regular bragging. Not only do they cope with the loss of Cocorella and Basuma, they are thriving. They almost certainly predicted the loss of Potter and would have an emergency ready. But even so, the momentum was curbed. A new manager, no matter how talented he is, will take time to get to know himself. What would have been the greatest season in the club’s history was verified after six games.
This warning comes up, which is what happens if you exceed your stop. But this is not a grim moral story. The multi-tiered Premier League. From Chelsea Angle, that sounds like some big comic opera. Would a college wrestler with his long hair and sunglasses, Poehle, get a little up on his nose for American capitalism? Maybe it is, but not everything has to be brilliantly accurate.
He certainly played the part with gusto, from the moment he showed up for the 2-2 draw against Wolves last season and looked completely bewildered by the VAR who scored an offside goal. Maybe it was sets himself In effect as sporting director this summer, the exit of Roman Abramovich’s staff stripped the club of sporting expertise, but his faltering attempts to navigate the market at times seemed like one of those body-swap comedies so popular in the ’80s.
Maybe that’s unfair on Boehly. Perhaps he will learn quickly. Maybe it will bring a new perspective. But the early signs weren’t good. Football, more than any other sport, is about unity and you change its components at your own risk. It’s not just about paying for the best players. Thomas Tuchel’s reluctance to let Boyle To sign Cristiano Ronaldo And Anthony Gordon was a key point in the friction suggesting this is incomprehensible – and that should worry Chelsea fans while offering everyone a potential source of great entertainment. If Manchester United really do get to work together under the fierce glare of Tin Hag, there is likely to be room in the drama for an owner-managed financial giant easily tempted by celebrities with little ability to long-term planning.
This is the Premier League as a satire of capitalism. There is a well-run club thriving on a tight budget, and there is another who just sacked a manager a week after closing a transfer window in which he was allowed to direct a quarter of a billion pounds in spending. However, it is the latter that can attract prize assets from the former; Who can shatter the dreams of a little man on a whim.
Welcome to modern football. Welcome to the modern world. Welcome to the circus.