I've never hidden the fact that I think David Beckham is a bit of a fud.
Admittedly, he's a very well-paid fud who has made the most of his limited footballing abilities, honing them so that, at his peak, he was the best right-footed dead ball specialist in the world.
On his day, such as when Beckham booked England's place at the 2002 World Cup with a last minute free kick - to draw with footballing leviathans Greece - he was immense, covering every inch of the pitch and pressing his team mates forwards.
But he's never going to feature in anyone's All-Time World XI.
If the truth be told, I don't actually mind the on-pitch Beckham too much. Despite an irrational hatred of Manchester United (Cristiano Ronaldo and Darren Fletcher excepted) and the deep joy I take from each defeat bestowed upon England's national side, I don't feel the same loathing for Beckham that I do for some other professional footballers (the names Lennon, Bellamy, Thompson and Sutton spring to mind).
It's Beckham's off-field activities that irritate me. For years, he and his real-life, 3D Photoshopped wife have uttered vacuous desires "to break America". Why? Why must they inflict themselves on another country - in fact, another continent? Would it not make more sense for them to continue working in the UK after Golden Balls hangs up his boots, but to live in comparative anonymity in Hollywood?
The simple answer (can there be any other type when it comes to the gruesome twosome?) is no - they cannot rest until everyone on the planet owns a product touched by the hand of one of the Beckhams. Whether a Spice Girls concert ticket, an LA Galaxy shirt or a pair of Police sunglasses, everyone must buy into Brand Beckham.
But before this rant descends any further, the purpose of this post was actually to show some sympathy to David Beckham.
Much has been made of his new trans-Atlantic lifestyle now that he is plying his domestic trade in the United States whilst attempting to recreate his international glories on the battlefields of Europe.
Boo-hoo. Beckham knew what he was doing when he signed his 250 million dollar Galaxy contract.
But when you see the extent of his travelling laid out in front of you, it is pretty formidable. Between September 8 and October 18, Beckham's schedule (presuming he were fit enough to play in all matches, and selected for the relevant squads) is as follows:
Saturday September 8: London
Wednesday September 12: London
Thursday September 13: Los Angeles
Sunday September 16: Los Angeles
Wednesday September 19: Utah
Sunday September 23: Los Angeles
Thursday September 27: Kansas
Sunday September 30: Ohio
Wednesday October 3: Vancouver
Sunday October 7: Houston
Wednesday October 10: Minnesota
Saturday October 13: London
Wednesday October 17: Moscow
Thirteen matches in 40 days, in four countries. For a fully fit professional athlete at the top of his game and his physical peak, that would be a punishing schedule. For a 32-year-old who, after finishing a punishing season in Spain's top flight, travelled straight to America to play for LA Galaxy, whilst also resurrecting his international career, it's impossible. And that's without mentioning the fact that Beckham isn't even really fit enough to finish ONE match, let alone 13. Or the fact that he'd also have training between those matches - ideally at least, although travelling across America, over the Atlantic and around Europe will have a huge impact on that. And on top of all that, he's probably also signed up for countless days of promotional work and advertising campaigns.
For once, I feel sorry for David Beckham.
1 comment:
And that's without even touching on the punishing social schedule that his wife has got planned. And of course there's the whole thing about the Americans not giving two hoots about football, so his ego is going to take a bit of a battering too.
But oh well, he married her. Better get on with it.
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