The 1982 Brazil World Cup side in action against Argentina. Photo: Getty
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Why football loves beautiful losers

Sport’s love affair with the myth of thwarted victory.

One of the most remarkable stories in the history of football took place in the Gabonese capital Libreville in early 2012. Zambia lifted their first ever Africa Cup of Nations with a well-deserved penalty-shoot out win over Ivory Coast. The victory would have been remarkable enough without the back story – Zambia had seen a previous generation of great footballers wiped out in a plane crash just off the coast of the same city 19 years earlier. A team expected to qualify for USA 94 was decimated, leaving only one survivor – Kalusha Bwalya, who travelled to Senegal alone because he was playing in the Netherlands for PSV Eindhoven. The fact that in 2012 Bwalya, the country’s greatest-ever goalscorer, was the President of the Zambian Football Association only compounded the emotion. It was a Hollywood ending that commentators said was worthy of a film.

The film has yet to come but, to be totally honest, it probably wouldn’t make a very interesting one. Partly because the reality itself is already so powerful to make a fictional adaptation appear wan, and partly because it is the first half of the equation – the loss of a promising team – that really matters in a footballing narrative. It is loss, failure and the eternal wondering what might have been that nourishes legend in football (and other sports besides). Victories, be they frequent or rare, are celebrated, entered into the record books and memorialised and no fan, not even of the most successful club, will say they get sick of winning. But the folk memory of football views things a bit differently; it reveres the ones that got away – the brilliant failures.

I’m not talking about the sort of experimental failure that is valourised (and almost fetishised) in Silicon Valley these days. What I mean is the big immovable rock of unfulfillment that predominates in the history of certain teams, one the memory of which can never be wiped away, not by any number of successive victories. It is probably the tantalising sense that something has been left unfinished, that one has been reading a book you will never know the end of, that makes people cleave to the myth of the beautiful loser. It certainly helps to be beautiful – the Netherlands World Cup-losing sides of 1974 and 1978 are revered in the hearts of football fans and are almost a case study in falling short. Not so the Dutch side that lost to Spain in Johannesburg four years ago – for all their evident talent, the way they kicked lumps out of the Spaniards meant the world sighed collectively with relief when Andrés Iniesta finally dispatched them with an extra-time goal. Nobody will remember or mourn the Dutch of 2010 any more than they will the losing West Germans of 1982 and 1986.

The victorious Zambian team after winning the African Cup of Nations in 2012. Photo: Getty

The Zambian team after winning the African Cup of Nations in 2012.
Photo: Getty

The World Cup’s history is littered with teams whose brilliance is only magnified by the fact they didn’t win and later, more successful, sides, try as they might, can never eclipse them. Even the great Dutch side that lifted the European Championships in 1988 cannot compare in the memories of football fans with the losing team of the previous decade. The same goes for other nations – French fans may prefer the losers of 1982 to the winners of 98; the Danes of 1986 are more fondly remembered than their more agricultural European Champions of 1992. Hungarian football will probably never again experience a side that will even come close to winning the World Cup, as the Mighty Magyars of 1954 almost did. Brazil, five-times winner of the World Cup, has the distinction of having two losing sides that loom heavily in their history. One, the 1950 side that lost on home soil to Uruguay, had a traumatic effect that still undercuts Brazilian football; the other, the 1982 team, is probably the most loved beautiful loser of them all – a team of such awesome grace and force that their 3-2 defeat to a Paolo Rossi-inspired Italy to this day seems incredible. Brazil’s World Cup winners of 1994 and 2002 might have been ultimately better drilled than Telê Santana’s men who faltered in Spain but it is the 1982 that people love. Brazil is probably the only country though to have a beautiful winner to loom in stature as great as its unfortunate loser – the 1970 winner, the first world champion of the colour-TV era.

The fascination with failure is probably down to a collective sense of Aristotelian catharsis. It also casts into relief the great achievements of the sport – it is significant that David Peace, in his novel The Damned Utd, chose not the glory days of Nottingham Forest’s European Cup wins for his narrative of the great Brian Clough, but Clough’s greatest, earth-shattering failure – the 44 days he spent in charge of Leeds United in 1974, where he alienated almost everybody and his winning touch deserted him. Peace’s novel does not use this failure to tell an uplifting story of Clough’s later ability to “bounce back” and overcome it in triumph – it is rather a portrayal of the darker, more rebarbative qualities of Clough’s character, that both drove him on and made him a superb man-manager but also one whose alcoholism and personality clashes had a detrimental effect on his career. Peace’s latest novel Red or Dead also takes a legendary manager, Bill Shankly, as its subject. It is not content to dwell however on Shankly’s phenomenal success at Liverpool FC where he not only won domestic and European trophies but also laid the groundwork for the greatest English club side of the 70s and 80s. The novel does not end at Shankly’s retirement in 1974 (his last match in charge was against Leeds United, being managed for the first time by one Brian Clough). It continues for another two hundred pages and follows Shankly in the years before his sudden death in 1981. The great manager sees his former assistant Bob Paisley outdo his achievements and also feels the onset of mortality – both figurative and literal. He is sidelined and at times snubbed by his former club – a logical decision from a management point of view but one which cruelly wounds the old man’s pride (Peace subtitles this second part of the novel “Samson Agonistes”). The journey down from such great heights can often be a lonesome one.

One player who practically thrust himself off that great height was Zinedine Zidane, whose last act in a glorious career was to headbutt Marco Materazzi in a World Cup final and thus get sent off, probably depriving France of a second World Cup in the process. The incident gave rise to a furious public debate in France, which eclipsed the angst of losing the 2006 final to Italy. 61 per cent of French people were willing to forgive him. Opinion writers speculated on the “meaning” of the gesture. It was thought that Materazzi had insulted the honour of Zidane’s mother (Materazzi would later say it was Zidane’s sister he slurred) – a philosopher wrote in the pages of Libération of Zidane’s “suspension of justice” that it was an existential realisation, evoking the words of another Franco-Algerian, Albert Camus in his (in)famous defence of the pieds noirs: “If that is justice, then I prefer my mother.” There was never a more tumultuous end to a great playing career. The Belgian writer Jean-Philippe Toussaint, who attended the match in Berlin, later wrote an essay on the incident ascribed it to the “bitterness of a player competing in the last match of his career, a match he can’t make up his mind to finish.” Toussaint noted that Zidane had already retired once from international football and was suspended for France’s final group game in 2006, which had they lost, would have spelled the end for him prematurely:

It’s always been impossible for him to bring his career to a close, least of all to do so beautifully, for to end beautifully is nonetheless to end, to seal one’s legend, to raise the World Cup is to accept one’s death, whereas ruining one’s proper exit leaves prospects open, unknown, alive."

We’re back to that book you will never know the ending of.

Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait

The most remarkable thing of all is that Zidane’s dramatic end was foretold in a film released only weeks before the World Cup began. Directed by video artists Douglas Gordon and Philippe Parrano, Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait follows the player throughout the ninety minutes of a match for Real Madrid versus Villareal in April 2005. The sole focus of the film throughout is Zidane, with seventeen synchronised cameras almost libidinously trained on him. We see him stroll about, stub his foot in the turf of the Estádio Santiago Bernabéu, take delivery of the ball, pass it on and burst into an occasional run. It is a film of unremitting intensity that one will find either fascinating or mind-numbingly dull (over half the audience in the Paris cinema I saw it in walked out). Here is a footballer freed from the God-like gaze of the television camera and the “official discourse” – the sermon – of the commentator. He is humanised, stripped down to his physical form and we hear snatches of the vulgate of stadium matches, where he chats with Roberto Carlos during a break in play – the very same unpoliced discourse that resulted in him headbutting Marco Materazzi. (On a similar note, Toussaint ruminates that the headbutt in Berlin must never have happened because nobody in the stadium saw it.) The fortuitous narrative perfection of Zidane is such that its protagonist gets caught up in a brawl in the very last minute of the game, and the film. He is promptly sent off. It is as elegant a commentary on Zidane the player as one could expect as well as an eerie prophecy of the way in which he would end his career. Zidane was sent off a total of eleven times in his career, including once in France’s World Cup winning-campaign in 1998 (for retaliating to a slight on his mother’s honour). The explosive side to this quiet and unassuming man was the fatal flaw he will be remembered for more than the two goals he scored in the 1998 World Cup final.

Not every World Cup produces a beautiful loser – a team or an individual whose efforts and brilliance are cruelly rendered nought by fate, injustice or the tactical manoeuvres of cannier opposition. Much of the time there is a credible winner, unremarkable but deserving, and a cast of doughty also-rans who inevitably fall short. Every now and again though there comes a team who captures the imagination and the hearts of the world, for a brief moment looks invincible and then falters, vanquished as suddenly and traumatically as the hero of a Victorian novel. I wonder who is the most likely candidate for that role this year – France, Belgium, Japan, Argentina, or maybe, once again, Brazil?

Oliver Farry is blogging during the World Cup at Straight off the Beach

Oliver Farry is an Irish writer, journalist and translator living in Paris.

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North Yorkshire has approved the UK’s first fracking tests in five years. What does this mean?

Is fracking the answer to the UK's energy future? Or a serious risk to the environment?

Shale gas operation has been approved in North Yorkshire, the first since a ban introduced after two minor earthquakes in 2011 were shown to be caused by fracking in the area. On Tuesday night, after two days of heated debate, North Yorkshire councillors finally granted an application to frack in the North York Moors National Park.

The vote by the Tory-dominated council was passed by seven votes to four, and sets an important precedent for the scores of other applications still awaiting decision across the country. It also gives a much-needed boost to David Cameron’s 2014 promise to “go all out for shale”. But with regional authorities pitted against local communities, and national government in dispute with global NGOs, what is the wider verdict on the industry?

What is fracking?

Fracking, or “hydraulic fracturing”, is the extraction of shale gas from deep underground. A mixture of water, sand and chemicals is pumped into the earth at such high pressure that it literally fractures the rocks and releases the gas trapped inside.

Opponents claim that the side effects include earthquakes, polluted ground water, and noise and traffic pollution. The image the industry would least like you to associate with the process is this clip of a man setting fire to a running tap, from the 2010 US documentary Gasland

Advocates dispute the above criticisms, and instead argue that shale gas extraction will create jobs, help the UK transition to a carbon-neutral world, reduce reliance on imports and boost tax revenues.

So do these claims stands up? Let’s take each in turn...

Will it create jobs? Yes, but mostly in the short-term.

Industry experts imply that job creation in the UK could reflect that seen in the US, while the medium-sized production company Cuadrilla claims that shale gas production would create 1,700 jobs in Lancashire alone.

But claims about employment may be exaggerated. A US study overseen by Penn State University showed that only one in seven of the jobs projected in an industry forecast actually materialised. In the UK, a Friends of the Earth report contends that the majority of jobs to be created by fracking in Lancashire would only be short-term – with under 200 surviving the initial construction burst.

Environmentalists, in contrast, point to evidence that green energy creates more jobs than similar-sized fossil fuel investments.  And it’s not just climate campaigners who don’t buy the employment promise. Trade union members also have their doubts. Ian Gallagher, Secretary of Blackburn and District Trade Unions Council, told Friends of the Earth that: “Investment in the areas identified by the Million Climate Jobs Campaign [...] is a far more certain way of addressing both climate change and economic growth than drilling for shale gas.”

Will it deliver cleaner energy? Not as completely as renewables would.

America’s “shale revolution” has been credited with reversing the country’s reliance on dirty coal and helping them lead the world in carbon-emissions reduction. Thanks to the relatively low carbon dioxide content of natural gas (emitting half the amount of coal to generate the same amount of electricity), fracking helped the US reduce its annual emissions of carbon dioxide by 556 million metric tons between 2007 and 2014. Banning it, advocates argue, would “immediately increase the use of coal”.

Yet a new report from the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (previously known for its opposition to wind farm applications), has laid out a number of ways that the UK government can meet its target of 80 per cent emissions reduction by 2050 without necessarily introducing fracking and without harming the natural world. Renewable, home-produced, energy, they argue, could in theory cover the UK’s energy needs three times over. They’ve even included some handy maps:


Map of UK land available for renewable technologies. Source: RSPB’s 2050 Energy Vision.

Will it deliver secure energy? Yes, up to a point.

For energy to be “sustainable” it also has to be secure; it has to be available on demand and not threatened by international upheaval. Gas-fired “peaking” plants can be used to even-out input into the electricity grid when the sun doesn’t shine or the wind is not so blowy. The government thus claims that natural gas is an essential part of the UK’s future “energy mix”, which, if produced domestically through fracking, will also free us from reliance on imports tarnished by volatile Russian politics.

But, time is running out. Recent analysis by Carbon Brief suggests that we only have five years left of current CO2 emission levels before we blow the carbon budget and risk breaching the climate’s crucial 1.5°C tipping point. Whichever energy choices we make now need to starting brining down the carbon over-spend immediately.

Will it help stablise the wider economy? Yes, but not forever.

With so many “Yes, buts...” in the above list, you might wonder why the government is still pressing so hard for fracking’s expansion? Part of the answer may lie in their vested interest in supporting the wider industry.

Tax revenues from UK oil and gas generate a large portion of the government’s income. In 2013-14, the revenue from license fees, petroleum revenue tax, corporation tax and the supplementary charge accounted for nearly £5bn of UK exchequer receipts. The Treasury cannot afford to lose these, as evidenced in the last budget when George Osborne further subsidied North Sea oil operations through increased tax breaks.

The more that the Conservatives support the industry, the more they can tax it. In 2012 DECC said it wanted to “guarantee... every last economic drop of oil and gas is produced for the benefit of the UK”. This sentiment was repeated yesterday by energy minister Andrea Leadsom, when she welcomed the North Yorkshire decision and described fracking as a “fantastic opportunity”.

Dependence on finite domestic fuel reserves, however, is not a long-term economic solution. Not least because they will either run out or force us to exceed international emissions treaties: “Pensions already have enough stranded assets as they are,” says Danielle Pafford from 350.org.

Is it worth it? Most European countries have decided it’s not.

There is currently no commercial shale-gas drilling in Europe. Sustained protests against the industry in Romania, combined with poor exploration results, have already caused energy giant Chevron to pull out of the country. Total has also abandonned explorations in Denmark, Poland is being referred to the European Court of Justice for failing to adequately assess fracking’s impact, and, in Germany, brewers have launched special bottle-caps with the slogan “Nein! Zu Fracking” to warn against the threat to their water supply.

Back in the UK, the government's latest survey of public attitudes to fracking found that 44 per cent neither supported nor opposed the practice, but also that opinion is gradually shifting out of favour. If the government doesn't come up with arguments that hold water soon, it seems likely that the UK's fracking future could still be blasted apart.

India Bourke is the New Statesman's editorial assistant.