Slipperduke
The Camden Cad
Carlos Tevez isn’t usually the kind of player to cause trouble for his manager, but he’s given Sir Alex Ferguson a real selection headache ahead of this weekend’s clash with Sunderland. Four goals against Blackburn in midweek have made him a very difficult player to drop.
The fiery Argentine striker has dropped out of favour this season in order to make way for Dimitar Berbatov, but how long will it be before the situation is reversed? In one League Cup quarter-final, Tevez scored twice as many goals as the Bulgarian hitman has managed in 11 Premier League starts.
Tevez is every fan’s dream player and it’s not for the simple reason that he’s really, really good at football. People love him becuase he cares as much as we do. He charges around the pitch like a hairy brick, always chasing back to pressurise the opposition, always looking to make something happen. Tevez has never stood forlornly on the touchline scratching his bottom, not while there’s a blade of grass that he hasn’t yet trampled into the mud. He plays as we all imagine that we would, if we were ever lucky enough to get a chance.
I first saw him at Upton Park almost two years ago. West Ham were looking dead and buried at the bottom of the Premier League and Middlesbrough were in town looking to pat the earth over their heads. There were only two players of genuine class out on the pitch, Tevez and Mark Viduka, the festively plump Australian. Now on his day, which is usually the day before contract renegotiations, Viduka is a world beating striker, with awesome close control and a vindictive desire to score with extreme prejudice. When it’s not his day, he is a fat oaf, incapable of breaking out of a gentle trot and apparently allergic to his own sweat. Tevez doesn’t work like that. Tevez has days when things go against him, as we all do, but he never has a day where he doesn’t chase success as if only the Gods can deny it to him. That’s why he has a cabinet full of medals and Viduka has a cupboard full of pies.
The contrast between Tevez and Berbatov is not quite as distinct, but there are similarities. The former Tottenham man never looks to have any more than a passing interest in the game, loping along in his little headband looking for a pass. In his case though, appearances are deceiving. Ferguson knows that Berbatov offers a different dimension to the attack, the ability to win balls in the air and a silky first touch. He’ll never be loved like Tevez though.
There are players, like Gary Neville and Frank Lampard, who lack that innate streak of genius, but who devote their lives to sporting perfection, working and practising to lift themselves as high as they can go. Then there are others, like Lee Sharpe and Viduka, who are born better than the rest of us and coast by on natural ability. Tevez is a rare breed. Gifted and drive. I like Berbatov, but I love Tevez and I, for one, hope that the little man gets the nod at the weekend.
The fiery Argentine striker has dropped out of favour this season in order to make way for Dimitar Berbatov, but how long will it be before the situation is reversed? In one League Cup quarter-final, Tevez scored twice as many goals as the Bulgarian hitman has managed in 11 Premier League starts.
Tevez is every fan’s dream player and it’s not for the simple reason that he’s really, really good at football. People love him becuase he cares as much as we do. He charges around the pitch like a hairy brick, always chasing back to pressurise the opposition, always looking to make something happen. Tevez has never stood forlornly on the touchline scratching his bottom, not while there’s a blade of grass that he hasn’t yet trampled into the mud. He plays as we all imagine that we would, if we were ever lucky enough to get a chance.
I first saw him at Upton Park almost two years ago. West Ham were looking dead and buried at the bottom of the Premier League and Middlesbrough were in town looking to pat the earth over their heads. There were only two players of genuine class out on the pitch, Tevez and Mark Viduka, the festively plump Australian. Now on his day, which is usually the day before contract renegotiations, Viduka is a world beating striker, with awesome close control and a vindictive desire to score with extreme prejudice. When it’s not his day, he is a fat oaf, incapable of breaking out of a gentle trot and apparently allergic to his own sweat. Tevez doesn’t work like that. Tevez has days when things go against him, as we all do, but he never has a day where he doesn’t chase success as if only the Gods can deny it to him. That’s why he has a cabinet full of medals and Viduka has a cupboard full of pies.
The contrast between Tevez and Berbatov is not quite as distinct, but there are similarities. The former Tottenham man never looks to have any more than a passing interest in the game, loping along in his little headband looking for a pass. In his case though, appearances are deceiving. Ferguson knows that Berbatov offers a different dimension to the attack, the ability to win balls in the air and a silky first touch. He’ll never be loved like Tevez though.
There are players, like Gary Neville and Frank Lampard, who lack that innate streak of genius, but who devote their lives to sporting perfection, working and practising to lift themselves as high as they can go. Then there are others, like Lee Sharpe and Viduka, who are born better than the rest of us and coast by on natural ability. Tevez is a rare breed. Gifted and drive. I like Berbatov, but I love Tevez and I, for one, hope that the little man gets the nod at the weekend.
