Friday, Dec. 8
Male chauvinism lives
Blanketed in freezing fog, Charles De Gaulle Airport is a picture of calm and quiet efficiency. And the French are none too happy about it.
The smooth running of CDG has little to do with the looping, hi-tech passenger walkways, or the state-of-the-art baggage-handling systems. It’s simply one of the few public places still functioning.
France is in the midst of a national strike, and Parisian tourism has plummeted. Hotels are bleeding money in canceled bookings, and private business is steadily going to the wall in an already ailing economy.
The strike is now in its second week. Rail, bus and subway networks were the first to walk out in protest over Prime Minister Alain Juppe’s new austerity program, which aims to slash public spending and welfare programs. The workers see this as violation of their basic rights, the government views it as feather-bedding. Both are equally convinced of their own rectitude. Hence the impasse.
What this means to the capital’s public is a daily commute that often lasts as long as the working day. People sit in cars and fume in traffic snarls for hours on end. Or watch the meters whir around in taxis. Or they walk along clutching signs in the hope of hitching a ride, dodging the legions of skateboarders, roller-bladers and motorcyclists with whom they share the sidewalk.
The bicycle industry, though, is booming. Companies are boasting record sales and bike rental companies can’t get their hands on them quickly enough. But the most interesting statistic is that more than half of the users are married women. Most of them do so because their husbands take the car to work. The New Man has yet to arrive in Paris.
Saturday, Dec. 9
‘St. Denis can go to hell’
Somewhere amidst the gridlock and mass demonstrations, the qualifying draw for France ’98 is taking place. In 1991, the U.S. used the Paramount Theater. The Gallic equivalent is the Carrousel du Louvre, a sprawling subterranean shopping mall and conference center that runs underneath the world famous art museum.
A series of modest signs guide journalists past giant shops into the conference chamber, which contains artifacts from the traveling FIFA soccer history museum and a giant blue (cool, efficient) illuminated screen with a map of France indicating the 10 World Cup venues.
One of these venues is the yet-to-be constructed Stade de France in St. Denis, a suburb of Paris. Completion for the 80,000-seat stadium is slated for Jan. 31, 1998, and it will stage both the opening match and the final of the 1998 World Cup.
After that … Paris St. Germain’s new home, perhaps? According to a reader poll in France Football, Marseille may still be the team closest to French hearts, but PSG is the team of the future.
“Le Parc est
And they have a point. The Parc is no slum, but being the team of tomorrow may mean that PSG has to move with the times.
At the moment, PSG is in a uniquely healthy position in French soccer. Owned by the popular cable channel Canal+ and backed by a sponsorship deal from Opel, the club has money in the bank to buy new players. It even laid on a complimentary fleet of buses to enable season-ticket holders to defy the transport strike and attend tonight’s crunch clash with reigning champion Nantes.
PSG doesn’t disappoint. Nantes arrived veritably banged up after its final Champions’ League match with Panathinaikos, regarding this match as an exercise in damage control (“I don’t expect we’ll win, then again the league has never been our main goal,” sniffed injured captain Jean-Marc Ferri).
After the forlorn exploits of a lone Korean ball juggler (the Korea 2002 bid committee’s exercise in self-promotion) were overshadowed by the PSG Girls (a cheerleading team that boogied to a ghastly French hip-hop number), it was the turn of the PSG Boys to strut their stuff.
Panamanian Julio Cesar Dely Valdes — the summer replacement of George Weah and current terrace darling, gave PSG a fifth-minute lead — and Nantes obligingly laid down and died.
PSG won 5-0, confirming that it is France’s top club by the proverbial country mile and sending the 42,000 fans home happy.
Sunday, Dec. 10
No domed stadiums this time
Few of the 700-odd accredited media have arrived — blame the strike, the weather and weekend league matches, say the organizers — and the army of volunteer staff outnumbers them by a ratio of about 3-1.
The net result is that most of the fourth estate miss out on the 1998 World Cup organizing committee press conference, which is less notable for its outcome than the metamorphosis of FIFA president Joao Havelange.
Dropping his usual demeanor with the press that ranges from disdain to contempt, Havelange is a picture of politeness. He’s even — well, affable would be pushing it — but he’s vaguely reasonable nonetheless.
FIFA has stacked its hand in Havelange’s favor: No questions about anything other than the World Cup will be answered. His ill-timed Nigerian sortie, the ongoing feud with UEFA president Lennart Johansson, and the Vision documents are all taboo.
Havelange displays his hand early: He acceded to the qualifying schemata proposed by all the confederations. Political expediency or common sense? The European media suspect the former.
FIFA proposed seven groups of seven teams to determine the 14 European qualifying spots. UEFA came up with a baffling qualifying process similar to its European Championship format: five groups of six teams, and four groups of five. The top nine finishers and the best second-place team will qualify automatically, while the eight remaining runners-up will have two-leg playoffs to determine the final four berths. Once again, calculators will be hot items as everyone tries to figure out the second-place rankings.
“I must say I insisted the committee approve [the UEFA] proposal,” said Havelange, denying that UEFA had struck a victory. “Should there be any difficulties, then I’ll take full responsibility for them … I don’t see it in terms of winners and losers.”
As for France’s World Cup effort, FIFA had no complaints.
There are no serious obstacles — narrow fields, domed stadiums, artificial turf, TV deals and the $64,000 question (“will anyone show up?”) — to overcome this time around.
France ’98 will host 32 teams in eight groups of four, commencing at the Stade de France on June 10 and concluding with the final (the 64th match) at the same site July 7.
Teams will play their three first-round matches at three different sites, with no worries about trans-continental flights (the average flight time between sites is less than one hour).
The conference over, Havelange spent the afternoon at the Tuileries Gardens doing a photo op with embattled French President Jacques Chirac and some schoolkids having a kickabout. Two embattled presidents: one surveying kids, the other casting a watchful eye over demonstrating commuters. Wonder what they said to each other?
Monday, Dec. 11
Nigerians get their visas
Nothing like an old pro to remind you what a cruel business the aging process is.
A little less than nine years ago, Michel Platini announced his retirement from the game at 31. Most players would have squeezed a few more years out, but having won just about every piece of European silverware, Platini was shrewd enough (and rich enough) to go out at the top.
The only major trophy to elude him was the World Cup, the organization of which he presides alongside Fernand Sastre.
Nowadays, Platini has baggy eyelids to match his suits, an expanding waistline and an ever-present cigarette in hand. He resembles any other harried, forty-something, sedentary slob having a bad day at the office.
Platini’s appearance, however, belies how smoothly things are running at France ’98. The World Cup schedule is set, the foundations of the Stade de France are in place, renovations to the other nine stadiums are going ahead as planned, and five of the nine host sponsors — EDS, France Telcom, La Poste, Hewlett Packard and Sybase — have been signed up (at the same point in 1991, the U.S. had one).
But how can France ’98 be operating so smoothly given that the rest of the country has ground to a chaotic halt?
“Life goes on,” said Platini wearily. “One small difficulty would have been if the air traffic controllers walked out. But for the rest, everything’s all right.”
The same can’t be said for FIFA and Havelange. All those thorny issues just won’t go away, so Havelange takes the easy way out: He blows off his own press conference, stiffing the media on the pretext of securing the Nigerian delegation entry visas.
The good news for Nigerians is that they will attend the draw (the country has been the subject of European Union sanctions for human rights violations since Dec. 4).
The bad news is that they won’t get the Under-20 World Cup in 1997. Havelange —
honored as “the man who keeps his promises and delivers” for giving Nigeria the next U-20 championship during his ill-timed trip to Nigeria last month — is unable to convince Malaysia to back down.
Havelange rattled off a fax to the Malaysian federation, asking it to relinquish the bid FIFA had already approved.
“Malaysia stressed it had undertaken great investments,” said FIFA press officer Keith Cooper, a solitary figure on the dais. “And after a long discussion, the tournament will go ahead in Malaysia as planned.”
Cooper then dispatched the minutes of the meeting in record time. Vision I and II (another Havelange bugaboo) were not discussed.
Bolivia may have to look for a new national stadium. No one wants to play in La Paz, located 11,900 feet above sea level, and FIFA’s medical commission has recommended that 3,000 meters (approximately 10,000 feet) above sea level be the maximum altitude for qualifying matches.
Under the South American World Cup qualifying program, each of the nine nations meets each other home and way, which grants Bolivia eight home dates in the sky.
But for the United States there was good news. It now looks set to stage the 1999 Women’s World Cup as both Chile and Australia are on the brink of withdrawing their candidacies.
The meeting over, journalists hurried off into traffic jams, awaiting a national shutdown, another demonstration along the Champs-Elysees, and the World Cup draw. We’re assuming that Havelange will be at the Carrousel, but you never know —
tricky things, those visas.
Tuesday, Dec. 12
D-day, Draw day
Sepp Blatter, having done one dry-run yesterday, goes through another two phases — one at 10:45 a.m., another at 2:30 p.m. He’ll need the practice — there are 172 countries to group and 693 matches to schedule to provide the 30 qualifiers that will join host nation France and defending champion Brazil in 1998.
And there’s a notable absentee: President Chirac, opted to forego some playful pre-draw banter with Platini before Blatter arrives with his pots of balls. Evidently, the President had better things to do.
At 6:20, the lights dim and the giant screen shows a graphic of the Statue of Liberty. A soccer ball, positioned where the torch is, drops to Liberty’s feet and she hits a hellacious looping volley that sweeps around the Concorde, crosses the Atlantic and flies toward the Tour Eiffel, which heads the ball through the Arc de Triomphe onto the head of the Mona Lisa, who heads it into the arms of Platini in the studio. The long-ball game as jogo bonito? Hmm.
Blatter is in fine form. “Thank you Anne-Marie,” he says to co-host Estelle Halliday. “This is going to be a little boring because it’s so long and we’ve got exactly 90 minutes, so I’ll get started.”
There are other Blatterisms peppered throughout the 90-minute show: Singapore, he tells us, is “famous for different reasons.” Formula One driver Alain Prost is scolded for dithering over the balls. “Vite, please,” snaps Blatter. “It wasn’t me,” says Blatter after a stentorian eruption from backstage. And Norway’s World Cup-winning captain Hege Riise manages to keep a straight face at the incredulous inquiry, “You play in Japan? Professional? As a woman? Wow!”
Cambodia will gain a little notoriety as being the first name selected by Zico, but the draw, with all the variables and possible permutations governing the later stages of an unwieldy qualifying process (400-meter hurdler Marie-Jo Perec had to come on as a sub for Alain Roche halfway through the CONCACAF segment), lacks drama until we reach the Europeans.
The U.S. will play Costa Rica and the winners of Caribbean Group D and Central America Group E (Nicaragua or Guatemala). U.S. coach Steve Sampson has a good stab at talking about a group that lacks 50 percent of its composition: “Not knowing half of the group makes it tough but we’re confident with any kind of matchup in the region. … Costa Rica’s a very fine team but to speak of the others is just impossible.”
Scheduling what will hopefully be 16 U.S. matches — slated for fall ’96 and May-June ’97 — will begin immediately, but …
“We’re very concerned at the second part of the group, particularly the Caribbeans,” said U.S. Soccer’s Hank Steinbrecher. “We don’t want to waste a lot of time and energy scouting teams we won’t be playing.”
Lack of familiarity with your opponents certainly won’t be a problem in Europe Group 1, though. The loudest gasp of the evening came when three former Yugoslav republics — Bosnia-Herzegovina, Slovenia and Croatia — were all slotted together.
Elsewhere, England’s Terry Venables won’t be looking forward to facing either Italy or Poland in Group 2, while Group 6 offers the tightest race with Spain, the Czech Republic, Slovakia (another pair that know each other quite well) and Yugoslavia all competing for places.
So is the World Cup a fix or just plain fun?
Proponents of the former theory cite the fact that Yugoslavia succeeded in avoiding both Croatia and Bosnia. And U-17 Oman player Mohamed Al-Khateri correctly predicted that the word “Fiji” was contained in the ball he held. For the latter, ask Alexi Lalas, who joined tennis star Yannick Noah onstage for the African draw (“Great fashions and hairdos,” cooed Blatter).
“This is wild,” Lalas said before the draw. “Michel Platini came up and shook my hand today, I had coffee with Hristo Stoichkov last night and I’m doing my spot with Noah.”
Then he looked around, shook his head, smiled and said, “This is fluff. Fun, but fluff.”
Somewhere in there lies the answer.
by Soccer America senior editor Duncan Irving