I have a football confession to make. I have never loved Brazil. Like Champagne, skiing or The Godfather Trilogy, people telling me how marvellous they are only strengthens my views. Maybe it’s the fact Mexico 86 and Italia 90 were my formative World Cups. In 1986 Maradona’s greatness inspired an ordinary team to the final and victory. In 1990 Maradona’s strength of character dragged an Argentina side, which Cannigia aside couldn’t even be called ordinary, to the final and infamy. Since then I’ve always preferred Argentina’s Stones to Brazil’s Beatles.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
In honor of the next round of the Champion's League, which is to start here in about 30 minutes, here's one of the more interesting things I've read about soccer in the past week: