Butcherism (II)

And there was me only half-joking when I wrote of that tommy grit, john bullshit phenomenon christened by me as "Butcherism" when writing of why I picked John Terry as my World Cup Fantasy Football captain in my Seven Days and Counting . . . post the other day, and then I open up the New York Times Sports Magazine yesterday on the subway to read John Carlin's article on the brilliance of Brazil when I'm confronted by the following opening paragraph:

"You look at Ronaldinho, the world's most talented and lethal soccer player, and what you see is the smiling epitome of Brazil's culture of pleasure. You look at John Terry and you have a deeper understanding of how it was that a small island nation once conquered half the known world. Terry — the captain of the English Premier League champions, Chelsea, and pillar of his national team's defense — has the height, the bulk and the air of cold command of the red-coated British sergeant who in days of empire instilled terror in his troops and enemy forces alike. When the two went head-to-head in a game earlier this year, it was more than a clash between two different ways of playing soccer, of approaching life; it was the proverbial case, or so it seemed, of the unstoppable force meeting the immovable object."

I'm being playfully judgemental on Mr. Carlin as it is an interesting article, and he does have the good sense to shoot down the myth that Brazillian World Wars Cups are won on the beaches of Rio de Janeiro, by quoting both Tostao, former World Cup winning member of that Brazilliant side of 1970, turned respected sports journalist, and 'this year's Charlie Nicholas', Ronaldinho, on the matter:

" . . . (Ronaldinho is determined, however, as is Tostão, to dispel the myth that Brazilian players are so naturally gifted that victory comes easily to them, no sweat or discipline required. "It's an absolute myth," Tostão says. "We play a collective game, as disciplined as anybody else's." Ronaldinho says: "We prepare for a game a lot more than people imagine. People think that we run out on the pitch, all laughter and joy, and then it's goal, goal, goal. No.")"

I don't think it's too early to say that the easy to reach grab bag of hackneyed cliches, historical myths and national sterotyping that appear to be given out with press packs at these sort of sporting events appear to be properly in place for the start of the tournament. I only wish I had a copy of the World Cup When Saturday Comes Special within reach as my antidote.