Slipperduke
The Camden Cad
It still remember it vividly. I was at a friend's house on a Saturday night in 2005 and we were having a glass of wine before hitting the town. Being of Spanish descent, she had the Real Madrid - Barcelona game on the television. We had no plans to watch the whole match, we were supposed to leave before half-time, but it just didn't turn out like that. Our plans were ruined by Ronaldinho. With our jaws hanging agape, we couldn't leave the house until it was finished and neither of us ever wanted it to end.
His single-handed demolition of Real Madrid in their own stadium remains one of the most incredible individual performances I've ever seen. No ballerina has ever looked more graceful. When he pointed at the sky in acknowledgement of the source of his powers, you believed that this was a young man who lived for the game and you wondered if there had ever been a better player. The Real Madrid fans, who revile the Catalan club and everything connected with it, could only stand and applaud their enemy. His genius transcended their hatred.
If you had said then that, in just three years time, there would be a question mark over his ability to perform in the EPL, no-one would have believed you. But today, as Chelsea and Manchester City jostle over his signature, it is difficult to see him as anything other than a bad piece of business.
To put it frankly, Ronaldinho doesn't care anymore. You can tell from the way that he vanished off the scene at the Camp Nou, despite the club's protestations that there was little wrong with him. You can tell from the way that you are more likely to see him on the set of a fizzy drink commerical than you are on a football pitch and you can tell from the size of his waistband that Ronaldinho is fat, frazzled and possibly finished. Looking at those pictures of him practically tripping over his chins in a friendly match was like seeing graffiti over the Mona Lisa.
The rot set in for him at the World Cup of 2006, despite the fact that a woefully out-of-shape Ronaldo was there to serve as his ghost of Christmas future. Ronaldinho ignored the warning. Brazil were almost as much of a letdown as England in Germany, turfed out at the quarter-final stage when Roberto Carlos decide that he couldn't be bothered to mark at set-pieces. Ronaldinho showed glimpses of his magic, but nothing more and the first fears that he had lost his focus were voiced. Then, on his return to La Liga, he made the mistake of peeling off his shirt to reveal a stomach that was less of a washboard and more of a washload. He laughed off reports that he was unfit, but there's no laughing now.
The EPL is one of the fastest, most physical leagues in the world. It's also the richest, which is the only reason why Ronaldinho's ludicrous wage demands are being considered. I would be overjoyed if he arrived in the UK, buckled down to work, shed two stone in flab and then returned to the glorious zenith of that night in the Bernabeu. Never mind Eric Cantona, Gianfranco Zola or Dennis Bergkamp, Ronaldinho would be the greatest player ever to perform on these shores. But if he doesn't shape up, no amount of t-shirt sales and merchandise will make up for the sight of a fat bloke lumbering uselessly around the pitch. If I was Mark Hughes or Luiz Felipe Scolari, I'd look elsewhere. They need footballers who are hungry for success in 2009, not ones who are still living off the glory of 2005.
His single-handed demolition of Real Madrid in their own stadium remains one of the most incredible individual performances I've ever seen. No ballerina has ever looked more graceful. When he pointed at the sky in acknowledgement of the source of his powers, you believed that this was a young man who lived for the game and you wondered if there had ever been a better player. The Real Madrid fans, who revile the Catalan club and everything connected with it, could only stand and applaud their enemy. His genius transcended their hatred.
If you had said then that, in just three years time, there would be a question mark over his ability to perform in the EPL, no-one would have believed you. But today, as Chelsea and Manchester City jostle over his signature, it is difficult to see him as anything other than a bad piece of business.
To put it frankly, Ronaldinho doesn't care anymore. You can tell from the way that he vanished off the scene at the Camp Nou, despite the club's protestations that there was little wrong with him. You can tell from the way that you are more likely to see him on the set of a fizzy drink commerical than you are on a football pitch and you can tell from the size of his waistband that Ronaldinho is fat, frazzled and possibly finished. Looking at those pictures of him practically tripping over his chins in a friendly match was like seeing graffiti over the Mona Lisa.
The rot set in for him at the World Cup of 2006, despite the fact that a woefully out-of-shape Ronaldo was there to serve as his ghost of Christmas future. Ronaldinho ignored the warning. Brazil were almost as much of a letdown as England in Germany, turfed out at the quarter-final stage when Roberto Carlos decide that he couldn't be bothered to mark at set-pieces. Ronaldinho showed glimpses of his magic, but nothing more and the first fears that he had lost his focus were voiced. Then, on his return to La Liga, he made the mistake of peeling off his shirt to reveal a stomach that was less of a washboard and more of a washload. He laughed off reports that he was unfit, but there's no laughing now.
The EPL is one of the fastest, most physical leagues in the world. It's also the richest, which is the only reason why Ronaldinho's ludicrous wage demands are being considered. I would be overjoyed if he arrived in the UK, buckled down to work, shed two stone in flab and then returned to the glorious zenith of that night in the Bernabeu. Never mind Eric Cantona, Gianfranco Zola or Dennis Bergkamp, Ronaldinho would be the greatest player ever to perform on these shores. But if he doesn't shape up, no amount of t-shirt sales and merchandise will make up for the sight of a fat bloke lumbering uselessly around the pitch. If I was Mark Hughes or Luiz Felipe Scolari, I'd look elsewhere. They need footballers who are hungry for success in 2009, not ones who are still living off the glory of 2005.
