Merseyside Seagull
New member
Like two great heavyweights, Cristiano Ronaldo and Didier Drogba have been going at it toe-to-toe for a what seems like an age, but their titanic battle to be crowned the Premier League's most amusing hate figure shows no sign of a let-up. Last week, Ronaldo got in a tremendous body shot with his brilliant 'Baby Bird: Enraged' performance against Arsenal and many seasoned observers were declaring that, surely, English football has never seen such a total wazzock.
But Didier is a hell of a competitor, and he has come right back at the popular Portuguese with a superb combo of repeated diving, feigning injury to confuse his own manager and then shouting "f***ing disgrace" at the TV viewers during last night's almost indecently enjoyable defeat to Barcelona.
Michael Ballack, an absolute weapon in his own right but nevertheless outclassed by the Big Two, attempted to steal the show with his impressive 'running along trying to stroke the referee on the face' manoeuvre after Chelsea were denied their 83rd penalty claim of the match, but the night belonged to Didier.
The combination of hulking physicality and tottering, toddler-like vulnerability that has become his trademark was displayed to full effect. Men half his size were either barged out of the way like rival women at the Christmas sales or allowed to throw Didier flat on his back like a common-or-garden wannabe WAG. An especially brilliant moment came when he had his shirt tugged by Eric Abidal while through, and went to the mat when a lesser entertainer would have tried to stay on his feet and score.
As team-mates tracked back in a brave bid to stifle Barcelona's superior passers, Didier limped about aloof. When Nicolas Anelka is teaching you a thing or two about team-work and collective effort, that's really something. The fact that Didier spurned a brilliant chance to put the game beyond doubt, and beyond the meddling of the most unwavering Norwegian since Mags from A-ha was in his motionless keyboard pomp, was immaterial to him. When he picked up one of his many deeply serious, but only for a moment, injuries he hobbled to the touchline. Was he fit to carry on, Hiddink wondered? But Didier was keeping his cards close: he eventually decided he was fit enough to be on the pitch, but not really well enough to run around too much. It must make management very difficult.
The brilliant performance after the final whistle, charging around shouting, waving his hands, berating the referee, was a classic of its kind. Didier, who has the legend 'magnanimous in victory, gracious in defeat' tattooed on his bicep and buttocks (but in French) then chose to address his public directly, looming into extreme close up for the coup de grace. It was absolutely brilliant television, and amusingly offset by Andy Gray intoning "Apologies to anyone who can lip-read" - as Didier shouted "F***ING DISGRACE" at ear-splitting volume.
There is no doubt that Didier is a complete twit, but he certainly is an entertaining one. I personally hope that the FA/FIFA/UEFA/RADA/whoever it is that he answers to will show some leniency, because there are very few finer sight in football than Didier in full flow, either with the ball or with the titty-fits. We should all celebrate this rare talent while we still can and remember that football is, after all, a branch of the entertainment business. Nobody, bar one man, can match Didier. Mr Ronaldo is already workshopping his next routine.
But Didier is a hell of a competitor, and he has come right back at the popular Portuguese with a superb combo of repeated diving, feigning injury to confuse his own manager and then shouting "f***ing disgrace" at the TV viewers during last night's almost indecently enjoyable defeat to Barcelona.
Michael Ballack, an absolute weapon in his own right but nevertheless outclassed by the Big Two, attempted to steal the show with his impressive 'running along trying to stroke the referee on the face' manoeuvre after Chelsea were denied their 83rd penalty claim of the match, but the night belonged to Didier.
The combination of hulking physicality and tottering, toddler-like vulnerability that has become his trademark was displayed to full effect. Men half his size were either barged out of the way like rival women at the Christmas sales or allowed to throw Didier flat on his back like a common-or-garden wannabe WAG. An especially brilliant moment came when he had his shirt tugged by Eric Abidal while through, and went to the mat when a lesser entertainer would have tried to stay on his feet and score.
As team-mates tracked back in a brave bid to stifle Barcelona's superior passers, Didier limped about aloof. When Nicolas Anelka is teaching you a thing or two about team-work and collective effort, that's really something. The fact that Didier spurned a brilliant chance to put the game beyond doubt, and beyond the meddling of the most unwavering Norwegian since Mags from A-ha was in his motionless keyboard pomp, was immaterial to him. When he picked up one of his many deeply serious, but only for a moment, injuries he hobbled to the touchline. Was he fit to carry on, Hiddink wondered? But Didier was keeping his cards close: he eventually decided he was fit enough to be on the pitch, but not really well enough to run around too much. It must make management very difficult.
The brilliant performance after the final whistle, charging around shouting, waving his hands, berating the referee, was a classic of its kind. Didier, who has the legend 'magnanimous in victory, gracious in defeat' tattooed on his bicep and buttocks (but in French) then chose to address his public directly, looming into extreme close up for the coup de grace. It was absolutely brilliant television, and amusingly offset by Andy Gray intoning "Apologies to anyone who can lip-read" - as Didier shouted "F***ING DISGRACE" at ear-splitting volume.
There is no doubt that Didier is a complete twit, but he certainly is an entertaining one. I personally hope that the FA/FIFA/UEFA/RADA/whoever it is that he answers to will show some leniency, because there are very few finer sight in football than Didier in full flow, either with the ball or with the titty-fits. We should all celebrate this rare talent while we still can and remember that football is, after all, a branch of the entertainment business. Nobody, bar one man, can match Didier. Mr Ronaldo is already workshopping his next routine.
