Every so often one feels the need to revitalize hope, imagination and inspiration. In my case it's more of a desperate cry to cleanse and purge myself from the soiling we were subjected to the other wednesday watching what transpired in Moscow. It's hardly necessary for me to recount my feelings on the issue, but La Libertadores does help to smooth the transition from that senseless, overrated, excrementitious spectacle Chelsea and Man Utd offered us to a more pure, authentic and generous kind of futbol. In this desperate search to initiate hope anew, Toulon has been a much gratifying surprise. I had sort of committed myself to follow this tournament carefully, seeking who knows what. Maybe some sort of semblance to something anyone unenthralled with the current flurry over mediocre, over-marketed unattractive futbol looks for. And, I found it. Of course, not everything was gravy. I mean, the Americans were in it. Watching them play in this tournament felt like real torment. You ponder that, for their sake, maybe they should spend their time doing something else. Playing basketball, or baseball, or baseketball, or maybe poker, but not this game. They were close to pathetic. And, there's the Italians. Efficent, tactically organized, and dull. But with immense capacity, as usual, to lift their game when it counts. I get the feeling that sometimes youth should be a justifier for many a unruly behaviour. Especially in futbol. The beauty of contemplating youth in action, in futbol, is that we are spared from the mentality of obedience. We are allowed to bask in the glow of not only potential greatness, but ungovernable too. Instinctively free, rightly or not, from the overbearing self-serving platitudes and self-importance we often see and hear from the top division managers. In this sense the Italians seem unforgiving. They are ruled by a dictatorship of cultural calcio. It's quite remarkable how one can watch an u-17, u-19, u-21, or senior Italian national team, and they all play the same. It might not be straight up catenaccio all the time, but it's always some sort of derivation. Still one must admire Italy's success at all levels when it comes to futbol. You just wish they would try to mirror the contributions their "paesani" have made to the world in any art, and translate it to futbol. Too much to ask? Perhaps. But I digress, and arrive at the real source of my optimism. There was some real eye candy for the truly admirer of unabated attacking futbol. The Turks, the French and the Chileans mostly caught my imagination. The first two remarkably didn't make it out of the first round, but they showed tremendously skilled players and an incredible ability to display a delightful irreverence gliding forward towards the opposition's goal. Then there's the awaited return of El Loco. Marcelo Bielsa will always live with a burden to bear as he's forever associated with one of Argentina's greatest debacles. However, his club successes and incredible futbol acumen were never belittled as time passed. So today he's in charge of all things futbol in Chile, within the rectangle of course. And he has imbued incredible skill and spirit in these young Chileans. Tactically and technically. It's too easy to see his hand in it. These kids fly on the pitch, and at times during matches in the tournament, when Chile was leading mind you, they played 3-3-4... yea, you read me right, 3-3-4. They don't call him loco for nothing, but this guy has more balls and a higher futbol intellect than "Sir" Alex, Jose, and Wenger put together. It'll be difficult to really make waves with Chile in the senior national team right away as their current players are not exactly amongst the best in the world right now. But he's leading the younger ones in the right direction and is making for a very interesting project. I personally wish him everything good. So that was Toulon. Not bad at all. Even the final being played in a much worse pitch than the one in Moscow-which noticeably affected Chile more that the Italians-managed to actually be a much more entertaining match than that offered by the two frightened English teams. There were many fantastic players in every position, and a few dreadful ones, like the Ivorian keeper. But let's hope that this is the real future of our game. And that at least some of them will resist the mediocrity of "modern" futbol and aspire to revitalize our hope in the game and touch our imaginations every so often.

So I brought myself to turn on the television and watch this Moscow final. I had the odd feeling that it would be an absolute waste of a good three hours, but still I convinced myself. In the end, what a piece of excrement. The pitch did not help, I'll admit that. But for the whole portion of the game-that I watched-the players were nervous bordering on scared. It was easily noticeable. Their managers' clumsy tactical choices did not help them either. I mean, if you know John Terry is in pain, you try him, you challenge him directly with diagonal and unexpected sprints by your attackers, like Klinsmann did to an injured Ruggeri at the 90' world cup final in Rome. But no, it seems that thought never entered Ferguson's overrated futbol mind. At least it did not seem so from watching Rooney's and Tevez's actions. Sometimes you wonder where the line stands between a manger's incompetence and the player's own tactical ignorance. It's difficult to criticize Cristiano Ronaldo-and believe me, I love to do so-in this instance because, number one:anyone can miss a penalty, anyone. And number two:he scored a lovely goal. But his utter inability to recognize Essien's struggle to hold his position while failing to gather any rhythm plowing forward and falling back frustrated me continually. Ronaldo should've capitalized on Essien's tactical confusedness more than a few times, he didn't. Messi does, Kaka does. He doesn't. But he did score a deciding goal. The real loser in this whole thing is Avam Grant. I did not think before today a manager could make so many mistakes in such an important day. First he should've detected Essien's ordeal, second, Chelsea's midfield was as disorganized as I've ever seen a team at such a crucial event. If you look at it on paper, Chelsea's midfielders should outclass United's anytime. I actually thought before the kickoff that Ballack would be man of the match (was I lost). And this lack of coordination led to Carvalho and Terry scurrying to the flanks early in the match when Makelele, Ballack or Lampard should've covered Essien's and Ashley Cole's behinds. But there was real disorganization out there in Chelsea's ranks, and that allowed United to impose it's rhythm early on. Third, Malouda was man of the match until, of course, he took him out. Fourth, I'd been expecting Shevchenko to come in since the first half half for Joe Cole and maybe escort Drogba up top or slide into the wing for greater dynamism. But of course, Sheva never made his appearance. But Anelka did! And where did Grant place him? At the midfield wing. Where Anelka is quite ineffective. Anelka is a centre forward, period. I was falling asleep by half-time, and almost going blind by the 60th minute from such an appalling display. So I left. I had some errands to run anyway. I went to the bank, returned some videos, and came home. "Nothing remotely interesting is gonna happen anyway" I thought, and, of course it didn't. Then extra time started as I came back and we all sloughed with it. Uninspiring, uneventful, and unending. This final will be remembered by no one directly unaffected through fan affiliation. If this is the best European futbol has to offer, I'll have to rethink my entertainment options. But I instantly reconsider, since a week ago, a real futbol display was offered by a more modest team. A team with a generous disposition to entertain and a harbinger of what futbol could be if you had a little balls. Last Wednesday's final was a real treat compared to this. It is quite dangerous that every time two big English teams meet we have to put up with these nauseating performances. Futbol is not "American Gladiators brought to you by Roman Abramovic and Malcolm Glazer". It is nobler than that by nature. So I'm off to watch Libertadores and catch a glimpse of real futbol. Meanwhile forever hoping that our game is safe from the clutches of relative successfulness, mediocre protagonists and empty satisfaction.

I remember finding myself in rumination after the 2002 world cup final, "what might've been". Michael Ballack wasn't allowed to play that match due to suspension, but had been Germany's engine all through that run. He was without a doubt in my mind, the most complete player of that world cup. Not the best, mind you, that honour belonged to Ronaldo. But the most versatile and indispensable to his team. In 2006, Ballack did not arrive to his country's world cup 100%, and underperformed. Especially against Italy. His world cup performance was just a shadow from four years earlier in Korea/Japan, but in his defence, he was coming off from an injury. In these last few years the length of the futbol calendar and the strain it causes on players has left us with underachieving stars when these big summer tournaments arrive. Whether it may be a world cup or in this case, the European Championships. These players arrive too tired, injured and futbol weary to the big date. So timing is everything. If you need to get injured, do so exactly when Ronaldo did six months before the 2002 world cup or just like Ballack this year, in the first semester. This allows the player to return fresh, rested and in time to get some sense of rhythm back through a few matches under his belt. Or in Ballack's case, get the whole second half of the year under his belt. He has been incrementally essential to Chelsea's ambitions, and has lived up to the expectations during the final stretch of the season. Allowing the Chelsea follower to be justifiedly optimistic about the showdown in Moscow, and raising the already high German hopes for this summer as he captains the national team. It seems to me, that lately, some of what Beckenbauer says needs to be taken with a grain of salt. I respect him and his legacy just as much, or more than anybody. But he's been accused of being out of touch with his players and in general with the actual futbol environment-something I don't completely agree with. But just a few days ago, he predicted that Ballack would be the deciding factor in Chelsea's victory in Moscow and as elemental in a memorable summer for Germany. Now I'm not in the predicting business and hate to be futuristic, especially when it comes to futbol. But I'm inclined to agree with Beckenbauer this time around. Ballack is hitting his stride, and that's just what Avam Grant, and Joachim Loew were longing for. Could this be, the summer of Michael Ballack?

It's always been interesting to me how geopolitics and futbol become helplessly intertwined. The fall of the Berlin wall and communism with it, brought along enormous changes in our world, and significant changes in our game as well. One can not help but surmise that, surprisingly, since this historic political event took place, the former members of the Yugoslavian federation-mainly Serbia, Slovenia and Croatia- have fared somewhat better internationally, in footballing terms, than their former Soviet counterparts. I say surprisingly, because it was the Soviet Union who won the first European Championships in 1960, and were always threatening to win something else of that magnitude in the 70's and 80's. They always seemed to have the team for it. But after the demise of communism, the clubs of these former Yugoslavian republics have not been able to mirror the successes of their national teams. It's been the Russians who've raised the flag for the former political eastern European bloc at this level. Anyone who follows this sport closely saw the wonderful victory of CSKA Moscow a few years ago in the Uefa Cup. The year after that, another Russian team under a little known Czechoslovakian manager-who should be getting a bit more credit for all this- reached the quarterfinals of that same competition. This year, that same club-under a more world renowned manager-has reached the final of the same competition. Not by beating, nor surpassing mind you, but by spanking really, opposition of a higher market and a superior world brand, such as Leverkusen and my dearly beloved Bayern Munchen. Now, I could've easily used this space to trash my beloved team and its ineffectual, clumsy at times central defence. But i would much rather write about the victor in this case. Zenit St. Petersburg takes me back. This club makes me feel nostalgic for those other eastern European teams of yore that achieved greatness in their own time by also slaying giants. Steua Bucharest in 1986, and the one I remember most, not only because I was older but because they too left me heartbroken in a Champions Cup semifinal and then went on to lift the European Champion's Cup in 1991, Red Star Belgrade. In this case perhaps, the odds aren't or theoretically shouldn't be so stacked against Zenit St. Petersburg. Zenit's success in Europe especially this year, is not really a story of David versus Goliath. More like little Goliath versus Goliath. For a couple of years now, Zenit St. Petersburg has been bankrolled by the third largest corporation in the world, Gazprom. They have brought in a very talented and experienced manager and solidified a mixed group of talent with hard working players. Players like Andrei Arshavin, who in spite of being unable to take part through suspension in the 4-0 humiliation of Bayern, has played a more than significant role for them in their European campaign and should be a player to keep an eye on during this summer's European Championships for Russia. Therefore, this eastern european club, unlike many others in that region, is not hurting for cash. They are being well taken care of. Still, Zenit St.Petersburg today, like Steua Bucharest and Red Star Belgrade then, isn't exactly memorable to me because of its flair or absolute dominance and commitent to attacking futbol. Steua and Red Star actually became European champions through penalty kicks in less than impressive matches. But they are reminders to me that a unified, hard working and inspired eastern european club under solid leadership can achieve history no matter how great the odds. And if you happen to have a gigantic company worth billions of euros, which is the biggest extractor of natural gas in the world injecting tens of millions into your club, all the better.

It is not often for one to wish its beloved futbol figures to eventually be completely wrong. Alas, they haven't. As Menotti notes time and time again, this business ridden futbol. Our futbol, finds itself (and I am paraphrasing here) strangled and bereft of the timing that enabled the means by which for a century fluid, imaginative and attacking minded world class elite teams were seen. Except for catenaccio of course. I hadn't thought of all this for a while really, until we saw Liverpool and Chelsea being paired up in the- now being called- "Champions League" semifinals, again. And so we were subjected, again to 180 minutes of predictable and forgettable futbol, plus a more desperate than glowing extra time period which provided three more goals mainly by product of the players' nervous energy than any inspiring action. Dramatic? Absolutely. Beautiful? Uh no. Manchester United did its part to barely eliminate an unhealthy Barcelona side. But still failing to touch any chord aligned with the impressive and sometimes memorable Manchester Utd performances at these stages of competitions. So what are we left with? An all english european final which adds gas to the fire of some of the "analysts" and bloggers who have been for some time now claiming certain english dominion in european futbol. Especially in the last two years when three of the four semifinalists were english. This is nothing new, mind you. Of the "three big" european futbol leagues, the EPL is the last to achieve this all-domestic final. Still, after learning about this superiority I naturally acted with haste to reach my nearest sportsbook and put all my money on England to win Euro2008. Until I found that, uh.... they hadn't qualified. Is it fair not to be enthused about this Moscow final? Is it fair to be a bit worried about the near future of futbol? I've watched futbol all my life, but I seem to be less interested in watching the big match like I was 20, 25 years or even 15 years ago. Especially when teams like today's Arsenal, Barcelona and the like, whose commitment to attacking the opposing net is higher than their commitment to guarding their own, are eliminated by teams with a simpler objective, a more robotic stance and a higher allegiance to their manager's ideas than to their own pure footballing instincts. Of course tactics are part of it, but not that important. Perhaps I'm being hysterically pessimistic about our game's future. I certainly hope so. But what about the 210 minute spectacle that Rangers and Fiorentina gave us? Real horror show, me droogies. Makes me wish I could somehow buy those five hours back. I would rather have spent them watching dogs f......., I mean, grass grow. But i digress. Maybe I'm all wrong about this. We still can certainly enjoy the flavor and pure spirit of a Zenit St. Petersburg team making a fabulous run. Perhaps I'm completely off base and Chelsea along with Man Utd will provide us with a glorious Moscow May evening, like that miraculous night in Istambul three years ago. Maybe these two teams can offer us something more than-enter my other beloved futbol figure-"shit hanging from a stick". Perhaps Avram Grant and Alex Ferguson will have the stones to allow their most skilled and talented players let their imaginations and instincts run free. Or maybe its too much to ask of this English Premier League elite. And maybe, I'll even turn on the telly that night and watch. But don't hold your breath. I'm still waiting for Menotti and Valdano to be wrong. Cheers, Daniel