maandag 20 juli 2015

Van Persie heeft een psycholoog nodig


(c)EPA

Een interviewtje in The Sunday Times kan, voor wie dat wil, uitmonden in een prachtig staaltje psychologie van een zelfverklaarde topvoetballer. Robin van Persie doet huilie huilie over mijn vriend Louis. Hij heeft geen eerlijke kans gekregen, Louis was gemeen en Robin was gewoon een beetje moe. 

Hij moest zelfs met pijnstillers spelen tijdens de kerstdagen, omdat hij na het WK een week te kort vakantie kreeg. Oh ja, hij wilde helemaal niet weg uit Manchester. Ik heb medelijden met deze wereldvreemde semi-grijsaard, die spontaan lijkt te vergeten hoe het in Engeland werkt. Niet vreemd na 11 seizoenen, dat zijn er ook niet zoveel. 

Wat Robin vergeet te zeggen is dat zijn prijzenkast zo leeg is dat het een prijzenlast is. Wat hij eveneens vergeet is dat zijn ego zo groot is, dat de pers vaak niet in dezelfde ruimte past als RvP. hij past zich eenvoudig aan, want het EK van 2012 was niet het enige moment dat hij weigerde om met het journaille te communiceren. 

Ik zou het zelf bijna vergeten, maar in zijn eerste jaar bij Manchester U scoorde hij 26 keer. Het jaar daarop, pre-WK, dus zonder vermoeidheid en al die lasten, was hij 12 keer trefzeker, en kwakkelde hij met blessures. Kortom, enige zelfkennis kan hem niet worden ontzegd, het is beter als hij zijn snater houdt.

Ook het feit dat hij niet naar een topclub uit een van de andere grote competities gaat zou Robin, theoretisch, kunnen doen beseffen dat hij weliswaar goed kan ballen, maar geen wereldster is. Anders had hij Oranje wel in 2010 wereldkampioen gemaakt, zoals Arjen, wel wereldtop, vorig jaar bijna deed.
Al zijn hele leven leidt Robin aan het syndroom van Genee, dat zijn mensen die denken dat ze iets kunnen, terwijl dat stiekem niet het geval blijkt te zijn. Omdat ze niet kunnen incasseren, worden ze een tikkeltje vals als je hen op hun rudimentaire gebreken aanspreekt. Daarom heeft Robin nooit te horen gekregen hoe het echt met hem zit. 

Wat Robin evenmin zal begrijpen is dat ook de doorsnee voetbalfan wel een beetje klaar is met hem. Robin speelde elf jaar in Engeland, bij Arssenal an Man United. Dennis Bergkamp speelde ook 11 jaar in Engeland, bij Arsenal. Hij won 3 titels, 4 FA Cups. Robin won in 8 jaar Arsenal 1 FA Cup. met United werd hij kampioen. 

Omdat Bergkamp altijd zijn voeten liet spreken, maar zelden tot nooit de pers ontweek, staat een standbeeld van hem bij de ingang van het Emirates stadion. Als Robin ooit weer eens terugkomt zal hij er andermaal hoofdschuddend naar kijken. Een standbeeld voor een mannetje met vliegangst, hoe verzin je het. Ik ben veel beter.

vrijdag 17 juli 2015

Mario Cipollini, the controversial champ


The Tour de France is well underway in the mountains. According to many fans, it’s when the race starts to get interesting, as there are no boring stages on rugged terrain. It’s the territory of the thin thighed men, who are more capable of crossing the steep slopes than the sprinters, whose thick upper legs bare enormous explosive powers. They are simply not built to climb.
It was for that reason that one of the world’s greatest riders always squeezed his brakes to return home to Italy, where he could be seen sunbathing in Viareggio, surrounded by some beautiful women. Mario Cipollini was much more than just a fast rider, he is considered to be one of the greatest sprinters of all time, if not the very best.  However, Il Re Leone was also known for his colorful appearances and his fierce temper. It was never a boring moment with Super Mario, and he was fined many a time as well as excluded from the Tour de France by its harsh and illogical board of directors.  After all, during his career, doping had never been an issue, but his conduct, well, that was another story.

“If you brake, you don’t win”

Like any great athlete, young Mario stuck out during his youth cycling career. In his first season in 1974, he was seven; he competed in 19 races, winning 17. On one occasion, he was stripped of his title, as he broke the rules on the gear ratio. He lost only one race that year. However, Mario was somewhat different. one year earlier, he had taken his mother’s car keys, to ride around in the streets of his birthplace Lucca, in Tuscany. 4 years later, a representative of a pro team came to the Cipollini residence to negotiate a contract with his older brother Cesare. The man told the famous story that young Mario was so hyperactive, that he had to be tied up against an olive tree.
It was that same brother, however, who warned the peloton. He advised everybody to rake in as many wins as possible, because once his baby brother dearest would enter the pro ranks, their party would be over. Needless to say that very few took him seriously, as Mario’s erratic behavior was well known. They were about to regret that indifference.

“If I weren’t a professional rider, I’d be a porn star”


After a stunning 125 wins as a youth rider and an amateur, Mario turned pro in 1989. Immediately after his arrivals in the big league he started to fulfill his brother’s promise.  The 6.3” feet tall man with his long, curly hair and his incredible speed  wasn’t easy to be overlooked. He is one of the very few riders who has won at least once in every season he competed, (’89-‘05)
As an Italian should, he participated in the Giro every year. And much to his dismay, he had to ride until the final stage in Milan, as quitting on home soil was unacceptable. However, his hate of the mountains wasn’t just about his incapability to climb. Known to very few who don’t follow cycling, as a race the Giro is tougher than the Tour, because the mountains are steeper and longer. But where the Tour de France always had strived since the early days, to get the best riders at the start, the Giro board kept its focus on Italy, and even today an Italian victory is still very important. That’s why many top riders skip Italy, to be fully prepared for France, as it is too hard to compete in both, if you are interested in the classification, that is.

In 1993, Mario rode his first Tour de France. Being used to the Giro, he was confident that he could compete for the green jersey, that of the best sprinter. But even the hyperactive, big hearted Lion King found out the hard way that there is no such thing during the season as those three weeks in July. The pace is much faster, the press is present in massive forms, and only very few riders enjoy some privileges. He won his first of 12 tour stages that year, but was clearly intimidated by the magnitude of the race.

Two years later, as the peloton was closing in on the Alps, he was sure about one thing. Whatever the cost, he would not be climbing those damn mountains, packed with tens of thousands of crazy fans. As he was quite desperate, he amped up his air-conditioning, reducing the temperature in his room to Antarctic proportions, in the hope of harvesting a nasty fever. Obviously he didn’t, but his roommate was not so fortunate. When he had to give up the next day, Cipollini decided that his only way out was a proof of true friendship, a sacrifice. He declared his solidarity with his roommate, and joined him in the broom car.
   A few days later, pictures of a sunbathing Super Mario, in the company of some women who weren’t his wife reached the suffering peloton. It would be the turning point in many ways. When he was criticized for these pictures, he shrugged his shoulders.  When asked by a reporter about his role as sex symbol, an irritated Cipollini claimed, with much disdain for what he considered to be an inferior specimen, “If I weren’t a professional rider, I’d be a porn star.”

“An orgasm only lasts a few seconds, but a victory is forever”

 Yet his sportily claim to fame came in that same era, when he either invented or perfected the so called sprint train. Great sprinters before him always had had a few helpers in the final of the stage, who would increase the speed, in an effort to tire the competition. It was never a neatly organized thing. Cipollini had studied the work of his predecessors, and came to the conclusion that there was much to gain, once a team would literally line up their fastest riders. The train was born. The tactics are simple, you line up four to five teammates, while you as a sprinter are at the end of the row. Somewhere around the final 2 kilometers, they set the pace at a gruesome speed. They go full fledge, until they are unable to keep up the speed. That is the moment when the teammate behind you takes the lead, and continues the race to the finish line. This train allowed Cipollini to follow his teammates and save energy, as setting the pace is much harder than following. The result was that he could finish the hard work of his team.

In 1997 he won, among others, 5 stages in the Giro, thanks to his formidable train. But by then, his dark side was a visible as his athletic prowess. Cipollini simply said, and says, what he thinks. Cipollini was bored by the press, who always asked the same questions, and in his mind, didn’t appreciate him for his profession. While his lifestyle was considered to be flamboyant, only few reporters realized that he didn’t act. What you see is what you get with the man, and he has two faces.
Bernard Hinault, Laurent Fignon, Lance Armstrong, every now and then the peloton has a patron, a boss, who determines what happens. However, Cipo turned out to be one of those, especially in the Giro, as he was obligated to finish that course. However, in a Tour of Spain, he delivered a black eye to a guy who had insulted him in an interview. In one of the Giro’s, he went after an escapee, as he was tired and didn’t want a fast paced day. He put his giant hand on the man's helmet and turned his head, while on the bike. He stared at the man, and simply said “no”. The peloton applauded him, as actually everybody wanted to slow day.

Cipo couldn’t always straddle the Alpha male and bully worlds, and was straight out feared by several riders and reporters alike. Sometimes he would jest, like the day when a Spanish reporter asked him about his status as a women’s idol, he said, “well, don’t exaggerate, an orgasm only lasts a few seconds, but a victory is forever.”

After Milan San Remo in 2003, he almost attacked Berhnard Eisel, as according to Super Mario, the Austrian had cut him off in the final 300 meters.
However, he could be vicious, claiming on one occasion that Alberto Contador and Andy Schleck were a gay couple, as they congratulated each other after a gruesome climbing day, ending on the Tourmalet.

“You can all suck my balls”

As the years went by, Cipo collected a staggering number of Giro stages. With each victory, a magical record was about to come in sight. Alfredo Binda, an Italian crack of the ‘20’s and ‘30’s was the first to win 5 Giro’s, in which he had amassed 41 stage victories. He was also a threefold World Champion. He is in the Cycling Hall of Fame, and one of the sport’s great champs.

In 1999 Cipollini made headlines when he won 4 consecutive stages in the Tour de France. The next day, a resting day, his team was dressed in Roman togas, and paraded on the streets. 
His dominance was unprecedented, even though the last of the quartet was to be determined by a jury. Nevertheless, once the mountains came in sight, he squeezed the brakes, and took off to the sunny beaches of Viareggio. His final words to an angry French reporter were, “you can suck my balls”

He was fined for wearing all kinds of suits, including his appearance in an all yellow outfit, which included his bike. Nowadays it’s common practice. The Tour board got fed up with the defiant Lion King, and decided not to invite him for the 2000 Tour. That suspension lasted three years, upsetting the peloton, as he had already won 12 stages by that time, and was considered the best sprinter, hence the one to beat. It’s like a soccer World Cup without let’s say Germany or Brazil.
In 2002 he won Milan San Remo, a classic 303 km long race in March, and totaled 40 stages in the Giro. That year he also won the World Championship in Belgium, raising his status even further. Yet, the Tour Board still didn’t want him for the 2003 edition, exasperating the peloton and the followers alike.

Hence, the 35-year old had just one goal. Beat Alfredo Binda’s record, exactly 70 years later. On May 18, he tied with Binda, and one day later, he won the stage to Montecatini Terme. When asked if he, the reigning world champion considered himself to be a true champ, his reply was remarkable. “I am not worthy of tying Binda’s shoelaces. Besides, I am just a sprint champ, unlike Binda, Hinault, Merckx and Armstrong.” Even Big Mouthed Mario knew his place in cycling history. After the tragic death of fellow countryman Marco Pantani in 2004, he was genuinely devastated, and had trouble accepting the passing of his close friend.

In 2005 he ended his career with a stunning 189 victories. A short comeback, three years later, failed, but nobody cared. He still was Super Mario for the audience. The inevitable doping allegations in 2013, he was never caught in his career, were answered by his attorney, Giuseppe Napoleone (sic!), and dismissed as slander. Cipo never cared to comment. He remains highly popular to this date, even though he accused Alberto Contador in March 2015 of riding with a small engine in his bike (yes, the technology exists, and rumors about the usage in the peloton are widespread.), but then again, to Cipollini, the modern day rider has become a softy whose respect for his competition has become more important than the sheer will to win.


maandag 6 juli 2015

Venus Williams, the sturdy slugger with a beautiful mind

(C) Getty Images


Today is the 26th episode of Sister Act in Wimbledon’s 4th round. Venus will try to close the gap on her kid sister Serena, who leads 14-11. Strangely enough, not many people seem to care, while their contemporary Federer is hailed. That seems somewhat unwarranted, to use a British understatement.


Serena has won this year’s Aussie and French open and is just two Grand Slams shy of Steffi Graf’s impressive record of 22 victories. Venus, also a fivefold Wimbledon singles champion has even made a bigger contribution to the sport than her already legendary sister. In other words, these two great athletes deserve far more merit than they are given.

The girl from da hood

(c)smh.com.au

September 6, 1997, Flushing Meadow, New York City. 16 year old Martina Hingis, then already twofold Grand Slam winner, faces a newcomer in the finals. A 6.1 ft. 17 year old, every now and then somewhat unpoised girl was the first debutant in 19 years to reach the finals. Where women were known for their technical skills and serve volley gameplay, this teenager added an unprecedented ingredient; mental and physical power. She was the first of the female sluggers. Ah yes, she also was an African American from the hood, Compton to be precise, and her beaded hair was one of her trademarks.
It was the era of movies like Boyz in the Hood, and Menace II Society, as well as many a rap song, describing the harsh circumstances in the Ghetto’s, or Projects. People from those neighborhoods were stereotyped as foul mouthing, gun wielding, uneducated specimen, who’d be easily provoked, and were incapable of expressing civilized behavior.

Although Althea Gibson was the first African American woman to win Grand Slams, French Open in 1956 and Wimbledon and the US Open one year later, the establishment was not very happy with the rise of this new starlet. Venus Williams was different in every aspect. The introvert girl didn’t play tennis to blend in. She was who she was, and felt no need for humbleness as she had nothing to be ashamed of.
She played because she wanted to win Grand Slams, and one in particular; Wimbledon. Unlike her predecessors, she stood up for herself when necessary, but not in the way one would expect from a Compton girl. In the semifinals, Irina Spirlea willingly bumped into her during a changeover, later unjustly blaming Williams. Where Spirlea said after the match:
Q. Can you tell us about the collision at the changeover chair at 4-3 in the second set? What was that all about?
IRINA SPIRLEA: I'm not going to move. I mean, she's never trying to turn or whatever. She thinks she's the fucking Venus Williams. She not going to turn. She just went like this. I was like, "I want to see if she's turning." She didn't, so.

Venus replied:
 "I thought we both weren't looking. I'm sorry she feels that way. It's not a big thing to me. No one said 'Excuse me'

This reply would be the first of many examples, where she would demonstrate not only great restrain, dignity and intelligence, but she’d also clarified that people couldn’t be generalized, nor stereotyped.

Australian Open 1999

(c) theroot.com
It wouldn’t be the last debatable incident. Two years later, during the Australian Open quarter finals, a strand of beads fell out of her hair, bouncing off behind her baseline. She was penalized for hindrance. Nobody suffered from the incident, especially not Lindsay Davenport, although she claimed otherwise after the game, actually ridiculing Williams’ hairstyle, and hence sending a message: you don’t belong here. Because by then, it already had become clear that this teenager formed a threat not only for the players, but for the elite game of tennis as a whole. Venus fought against her tears, the dubious call, the umpire, Davenport and her own emotions. With admirable restraint, she kept herself together, managing the raging storm in her body.
After losing the set, and the game, she once again received confirmation that for her, still being referred to as ‘the Girl from the Hood’, the only way to overcome questionable behavior by others, was to win. Venus, according to Billy Jean King, is a thinker, a somewhat introvert person who likes to contemplate before making a decision, or a move. When Davenport grinningly mentioned that she was distracted and Venus should stick to the rules, the oldest William’s replied gracefully, and confirmed Davenport’s words. In fact Davenport unwillingly gave Venus the final push. 

Game of Thrones

(c) bbc.com
One year later, a stunning looking, beadless Venus appeared on the Tour. Having improved her game, she firmly kicked in the established door of tennis, by winning both Wimbledon, and the US Open.  It not only made her an on court power house, but off court, she signed a 5 year endorsement with Reebok, earning her US$ 40,000,000. Overnight, at the age of twenty, she became the richest female athlete in the world.

Being catapulted into stardom, she trained less, as she believed her talent and power were unmatched. However, she was also in the transition from girl to woman. She won Wimbledon that year, and dominated the circuit with her younger sister Serena, who would beat her in the 2002 and 2003 Wimbledon finals. On February 25, 2002, she ranked as the world’s #1.
Although Venus deliberates about many things before she acts, she didn’t pay enough attention to the signals sent from her less trained and therefore overburdened body. A series of injuries were weighed down by the violent death of her sister Yetunde in 2003, and she was written off after a two year draught.

But Venus’s father Richard, unlike other sports parents, had always intended to maintain the balance between becoming a professional athlete, and living a normal life. He had prepared his kids for the unreasonable challenges they would have to face, because plain and simple, they were black. Martina Hingis once mentioned that the Williams sisters used that to their advantage, although she didn’t’ care to explain how they were doing that.

A new challenge 
(c) tennisforum.com
While getting back on her top game, Venus had changed in other ways. The once shy girl had become a solid soul, and interacted with other players on the Tour. She also decided to pick up where longtime friend Billy Jean King had stopped; the fight for equal prize money.

Women were paid less than men during Grand Slams, except for the US Open, a feat that bothered many. After all tennis is one of the rare occasions where men and women compete on the same stage and draw equal crowds, especially after Venus’ entrance on the Tour had radically changed the women’s game. More and more women had added the power strokes to their repertoire, making women games equally interesting to watch. Yet many men still didn’t take them seriously, for several reasons. Some feared for their masculinity, others lacked intelligence, while others preferred to keep up their macho image. Whatever the reasons may have been, women were met with some disdain.

In 2005 Venus once again had experienced how she was seen, by playing her Wimbledon matches on the country courts on the complex. Mentally tougher than ever, she fought her way to what would become a legendary final against fierce rival Davenport, with whom she didn’t get along at all.  However, on Friday July 1, 2005, the evening prior to her final, she had another engagement.
She was invited to come to a Wimbledon board meeting. Given the fact that the timing was at best unfavorable, everybody was surprised when she not only showed up, but gave an inspiring speech. She asked all present to close their eyes, and imagine a little girl, making the same sacrifices as the boys, working equally hard to achieve what the boys achieve, only to find out that her efforts are not equally valued, because of her gender.
The next day, she was part of the longest women’s final in Wimbledon history, beating Davenport, and reclaiming the throne.

Yet, Wimbledon denied her call for equal prize money, as they wouldn’t have enough dough to buy petunia’s, as one Wimbledon official said, without blinking his eyes.

Wimbledon has justified treating women as second class because we do more for the tournament. The argument goes that the top women – who are more likely also to play doubles matches than their male peers – earn more than the top men if you count singles, doubles and mixed doubles prize money. So the more we support the tournament, the more unequally we should be treated! But doubles and mixed doubles are separate events from the singles competition. Is Wimbledon suggesting that, if the top women withdrew from the doubles events, that then we would deserve equal prize money in singles? And how then does the All England Club explain why the pot of women's doubles prize money is nearly £130,000 smaller than the men's doubles prize money?

However, the institution overplayed their hand the following year, by paying Amelie Mauresmo only 30.000 GBP less than Roger Federer. That was the final nail in Wimbledon's sexist coffin. The matter reached British parliament, and Prime Minister Tony Blair agreed with the critics. One year later, Wimbledon, after being harshly criticized by the British public, gave in. 
Venus Williams would win Wimbledon in 2007, being the first to enjoy the equal pay, and in 2008. One year later she lost her last grand slam final to her sister Serena.

New struggles, but still going strong



(c( New Yotk Times
July 2015, 35 year old Venus is still going strong, after being diagnosed with an incurable auto immune disease Sjörgen’s syndrome in 2011, a disease that attacks moisture producing glands, and a nasty back injury two years later. She played 14 grand slam finals, on all four tournaments, winning 7, Wimbledon (5), and  the US Open twice

Where great players like Steffi Graf, Martina Hingis, Lindsay Davenport and Maria Sharapova never spoke about equal pay, Venus did. And even though women in tennis owe her the fact that she achieved gender equality, it is not widely known, nor is she appreciated. She not only paved the way for her successful sister. She not only paved the way for other African American tennis players. She gave what women in general deserve; gender equality.

After all, Wimbledon, stronghold of conservative values was brought down to its knees by a girl from the hood. She didn’t use violence, nor did she threaten, or insult anybody. Venus Williams used her status as a top player, an unswerving character and a beautiful mind that had withstood many dubious moments with a seldom seen dignity.

As far as I am concerned, Venus and Serena should be cherished for their achievements, both on- and off court. After all, they embody the ‘what you see is what you get’ spirit; a rare quality in people. Although both Venus, and her sister prefer to be ‘a continuum in moving forward’, we, sports fans, are allowed to look back at their impressive careers, as well as enjoy todays clash, and what comes after that. 



Amira, Leo en Lucia


 (c)UEFA.com
(C) UEFA.com

Na de uitzending van de Tour-proloog zond Eurosport de finale uit van het EK voetbal -17. Voor meisjes. Ik wil goed voetbal wil zien, en dat kan in mijn beleving ook door vrouwen worden gespeeld. Met aangename verbazing heb ik onverwacht de hele wedstrijd uitgekeken.

In de eerste helft werd Zwitserland afgetroefd door een Spaanse ploeg die alle facetten beheerste. Prachtige passes, dito aannames en combinaties, en af en toe de beuk erin. Uitblinkster Lucia Garcia is waanzinnig compleet. Of ze peert de bal er zelf in, of ze maakt ruimte voor een ploeggenoot, zoals bij de 4-1 van Lorena Navarro.

In de tweede helft lieten de Zwitsersen zien waarom zij in de finale stonden. Met Amira Arfaoui, die om dubieuze redenen niet in de basis was gestart, bleek de ploeg bijna gelijkwaardig aan Spanje. Zij zorgde voor diepgang, was constant dreigend en is net als haar Spaanse collega een potentiële topspeelster. Op de uiteindelijke 5-2 overwinning voor de Paellakauwsters viel helemaal niets af te dingen, De Raclettebrigade kwam net tekort.
De commentatoren waren lyrisch over de ploeg van coach Pedro Lopez, die een schitterende machine heeft gecreëerd. Lucia en Arminia zijn voor hun club, Oviedo Moderno (Garcia) en Young Boys, (Arfaoui) al even bepalend als in hun nationale ploeg.

En dat brengt mij bij de dwerg van Barça.

Samen met een Argentijnse vriend zag ik de adembenemende finale van de Copa America. Een ouderwets potje Zuid-Amerikaans voetbal, met intimidaties waar criminelen van kunnen leren, high kicks op alle lichaamsdelen onder het mom, ik speelde de bal, matennaaierij waarvan Neymar nog wat van kan opsteken, en uiteindelijk een winnaar, Chili, dat voor het eerst een hoofdprijs won. 

Ik legde mijn vriend uit dat ik het WK van 1986 heb gezien (hij was toen 4), waar Maradona in zijn eentje, Argentinië wereldkampioen maakte. zoals hij ook uitblonk bij zijn clubs. Ik heb Zidane zien schitteren in clubshirts en de Franse ploeg, waarmee hij Wereld-en Europees kampioen werd. Inderdaad, ook Diego en Pelé wonnen nog nooit de Copa America, maar verzamelden wel wereldtitels.

Messi's statistieken in de nationale ploeg zijn opvallend, omdat ongeveer de helft van zijn goals in vriendschappelijke potjes zijn gescoord. 'Deskundigen' kunnen mij niet uitleggen waarom hij in Europa 5 man kan passeren maar op een eindtoernooi niet eens de ballenjongen kan uitkappen. Bayern München of Real Madrid zijn beter dan Bolivia, of Iran (WK 2014). Voor een persoonlijke actie waaruit een doelpunt vloeit heb je echt geen toppers in je ploeg nodig, dat ben je namelijk lekker zelf.

Ofwel, Messi is simpelweg niet zo goed als iedereen zegt, een lichtelijk gewaagde stelling zelfs voor een columnist die naar vrouwenvoetbal kijkt, of hij zet zichzelf enorm onder druk, omdat hij zich meer dan wat dan ook Argentijn voelt, daar kan Maxima dan weer een voorbeeld aan nemen.

Het valt niet uit te sluiten dat één van de genoemde meisjes ooit hun land aan een Wereld- of Europese titel helpt. Het valt wel uit te sluiten dat Messi tot hetzelfde in staat is. Het albiceleste lijkt hem langzaam te verwurgen, waardoor hij geleidelijk wordt gereduceerd tot wat hij statistisch gezien al is. Een geniale clubvoetballer. 

Maar meer ook niet.

woensdag 1 juli 2015

Op zoek naar de pijngrens



 
                    NIEUW:SPORTEN MET SPENCER OP TWITTER

Hoewel ik aanvankelijk dacht er met een tweetje vanaf te komen, blijft het aan me knagen als een puppy die nog veel moet leren, en daarom geen idee heeft wat hij aan het doen is.

Hij heeft het echt gezegd, Frank de Boer: we moeten in Oostenrijk de pijngrens opzoeken. Ik zal u de mêlee van persoonlijke ongemakken, en de daarmee gepaard gaande pijn ditmaal besparen, al kan ik verklappen dat je met vingerprothesen best snel kan typen.

Bij Ajax, en eigenlijk in de hele Eredivisie, pretendeert men aan topsport te doen. Dat vind ik prima, iedereen mag zijn mening hebben, we leven tenslotte in een vrij land, nietwaar. Maar, op zijn Louis':  wat is de definitie van topsport? Nou...nou...heel goed! Het beste uit jezelluf halen! Goed zo. En! Hoe doen wij dat? Jaaaaaaaaaaa, door heel hard te trainen! En wat gebeurt er als je hard traint? 
En daar gaat het fout, want het antwoord dat je krijgt is een Romariootje. Je wordt er een beetje moe van. 

Om het beste uit jezelf te halen, moet je progressie boeken. En de enige manier om dat voor elkaar te krijgen is om door de pijngrens te gaan. Niet een keer, maar elke keer. Daarom hebben veel voetbalclubs tegenwoordig een laboratorium op het trainingscomplex staan, om de inspanningen te meten, en te zien wat iemand aankan, en nodig heeft om legaal te herstellen.

Het is een van de redenen dat de Maldini's en Totti's van deze wereld op hoge leeftijd nog meekunnen. Niet alleen verg(d)en zij het uiterste van zichzelf, zij hielden en houden zich tevens afzijdig van randverschijnselen die niet in het belang van hun carrière zijn.

Bij Ajax doen ze dat anders. Daar gaan ze met hun tijd mee, en snappen dat voetballers eigenlijk beroepsgangsta's zijn die om af en toe buiten het nachtleven te komen wat frisse lucht happen op een al dan niet naturel grasveldje. Zo blijven ze in conditie om hun core business beter te kunnen uitoefenen. En passant kunnen die Scandinavische bleekgezichten nog een beetje kleur op hun wangen krijgen, zodat ze minder op The Walking Dead lijken. Maar Ajax is in Revolutie, dus ze gaan verder.

Het clubbeleid is om voetbal als primair beroep uit te oefenen, en vanwege de Revolutie komen ze met visionaire ideeën. Om de mentale weerbaarheid van de spelersgroep te verhogen hebben ze structurele problemen in de directie gecreëerd. Zo leren de tieners omgaan met krachtenvelden bij hun toekomstige werkgevers, en ze vooral te negeren.

Ook nieuw dit jaar, de pijngrens opzoeken. Dat is een soort verstoppertje spelen, maar dan met jezelf. Een of andere speciaal voor dit doel ingevlogen goeroe, Zonnekoning John Troost, legt uit dat als jij jezelf in verbinding stelt met de zon, en je dat lang genoeg volhoudt, een mentale inspanning, de pijngrens zich vanzelf openbaart, wat een fysieke belasting is. Zo train jij jezelf volledig, zonder dat jij je overmatig hoeft in te spannen.  Het is een nieuwe variant op wie geschoren wordt, moet stilzitten, maar dan vertaald naar de skillboxes van de 21e eeuw.

De Boer wil dat Ajax de pijngrens in Oostenrijk zoekt. Ik wil dat clubs als Ajax zich realiseren dat het NL clubvoetbal een broodnodige sportieve impuls nodig heef;  niet in oefenpotjes, maar in de Europacups. 

Als ze in Amsterdam echt de pijngrens willen opzoeken, dan adviseer ik een Rotterdamse SM kelder.
Met Gerard Cox als Dominator.