Xavi Is Golden

In late October, FIFA and France Football Magazine released their predictably Spaniard- and German-laden list of 23 finalists:

Xabi Alonso (ESP), Daniel Alves (BRA), Iker Casillas (ESP), Cristiano Ronaldo (POR), Didier Drogba (CIV), Samuel Eto’o (CMR), Cesc Fabregas (ESP), Diego Forlán (URU), Asamoah Gyan (GHA), Andrés Iniesta (ESP), Julio Cesar (BRA), Miroslav Klose (GER), Philipp Lahm (GER), Maicon (BRA), Lionel Messi (ARG), Thomas Mueller (GER), Mesut Oezil (GER), Carles Puyol (ESP), Arjen Robben (NED), Bastian Schweinsteiger (GER), Wesley Sneijder (NED), David Villa (ESP), and Xavi Hernandez (ESP).


And now three remain: Xavi Hernandez, Andrés Iniesta and Lionel Messi.

Those three will contest this year's FIFA and France Football Magazine Ballon d'Or in Zurich on January 10th.

Wesley Sneijder must feel a bit aggrieved not to have made the short list, which begs the question: In lieu of which of the finalists should Sneijder have made the list?

It would have to have been La Pulga. The Argentinean flea is undoubtedly prolific but it can't be denied that Sneijder had a more successful year than Messi, both domestically and internationally. That being said, nobody is going to argue with Messi's inclusion based purely on the merit of his technique and goals ratio. Add to that Messi's glittering form in the latter half of 2010, and the small matter of his being the reigning world player of the year, and the argument for poor Wesley fizzles.

This will be the first year that the Ballon d'Or and the FIFA awards have been merged (whether it's an austerity measure or FIFA wielding its power unethically once again is a topic for another debate), and with the world's football journalists, national team coaches and captains all voting we will have just one undisputed winner. That winner should be Xavi Hernandez. If Xavi does not win the award this year then he is destined never to win it given that he will turn 31 shortly after the FIFA gala.

Xavi has been on the 23-man shortlist for three years running. In 2008, despite his masterminding Spain's European Championship and being named tournament MVP, Cristiano Ronaldo carrying Manchester United to the EPL and Champions League trophies proved to be greater accomplishments in the eyes of the voters. In 2009 everyone decided Messi was the major reason Barcelona won the Treble and Xavi finished third in the voting (the closest he has ever gotten). This year those snubs, and the fact he has been the common-denominator in Barcelona's successes over the last decade, should work in his favor.

The man is a five-time Spanish league champion, two-time Champions League winner and reigning European and world champion. Hernandez finished the World Cup with an 89% completion rate of an incredibly high volume of passes that kept Spain's offense ticking. And did I mention that the guy can play defense? Despite this impressive resume, which includes a number of other team and individual honors, Xavi has yet to be named world player of the year.

The dilemma that most voters will face this year is that Andrés Iniesta has also been instrumental in Barcelona and Spain's recent successes.  Iniesta, like Xavi, exhibits intelligence, vision and poise to match his technique and raw ability that very few players in the history of the game can be said to possess or have possessed. The two players have an understanding on the pitch that borders on telepathy, and their sickening degree of humility on and off the field only serves to endear them to fans of the game even more.

People are going blue in the face arguing the tangibles and intangibles in support of who should win the Ballon d'Or. Sadly, the only certainty is that only one person can lift the award, and that someone should be Spanish. Xavi Hernandez holds the trump card as the heart and soul of two of the most dynamic teams world soccer has ever seen. But no matter who is given the golden ball in Zurich, the true winner has already been shown to be Barcelona's youth academy.

"Who is this 'we' Yank?"

At the risk of exposing my bias so early on in the game I'm going to go ahead and just say it (follow the insults as they may): I'm a Manchester United supporter. I'm talking four A.M. game days at the local Manc-owned pub, scouring the dodgiest neighborhoods in developing countries looking for places to watch the match, missing countless classes to catch noon-time Champions League fixtures and screaming like a raving lunatic and running around in circles after John Terry infamously placed his penalty kick wide right in the 2008 Champions League Final. A win on the day and you can't bring me back to earth; a loss and you'll have to hide the rope.

My girlfriend once said: "He won't get up at nine to go to class, but he'll wake up before the alarm at five in the morning to watch the f****** game!" A roommate in college pulled me aside earnestly a day or two after he heard my post-Champions League exaltation and said, "I'm really happy for you dude. I knew you liked soccer, but I didn't realize you liked it that much." If money was not an object I would be a season ticket holder at Old Trafford (Santa, are you reading?).

I could type until my fingers fall off trying to prove my devotion to a club that I have followed closely for six years, but it would be in vain. Why? Because I would assuredly be the laughing stock of not only greater Manchester but the U.K. in its entirety. I suppose that there is something about a guy from California taking in the game on a nice 70-degree day that just doesn't scream die-hard Red Devils supporter.

Being a soccer fan in Europe--in England above all other countries--is a tribal affair. The British concept of supporting your team transcends any that we Americans have of being a fan. Your team affiliation is part of your identity and is defined not only by where you live but your family history and socio-economic status. So where do we as American fans of the game fall into this? We don't and that is my burden.

In March of 2009, I was in China, on the first-leg of a six-month trip through Asia. United were chasing the Treble that year (as they tend to do), and I ended up in a smoky Beijing bar sitting next to a couple of boys from Northern England, one of whom happened to be a Manchester United fan. I asked the guy if we had a shot of winning all three trophies and he looked at me with a smirk as he asked, "We?"  

Getting quietly scoffed at by Manc expats who discount my opinions at the pub is par for the course and I'll suffer that quietly, but I will not stand for being told by bitter British fans of less successful clubs that Manchester United doesn't have any fans in Manchester, that they all live abroad. I have it on good authority that those people are lying--a nice fellow with a Manchester United crest tattoo on his calf told me so--and I further reject the implication that I'm a bandwagon fan; success breeds hate and green is an ugly color on you gentlemen.

Come this Sunday I'll be at The Press Room sans United crest tattoo--maybe one day, but I'm not ready for it yet--watching United put Chelsea to the sword, while my British counterparts sit in their over-priced seats at Stamford Bridge freezing their bollocks off. I'm in limbo, considered odd by Americans for liking soccer so much but unable to sit at the cool table with the chanting masses from Manchester. I'm alright with that I suppose. Maybe one day they'll let me slide my tray over and talk about who is going to replace Fergie when he finally retires.