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Paranoia and Mali get the better of timid, tetchy Tunisia
Paranoia and Mali get the better of timid, tetchy Tunisia
* Mali 1 Tunisia 1 (aet; Mali win 3-2 on penalties) * North Africans fail to take the game to 10 men There is perhaps no nation on earth whose football is as paranoid as that of Tunisia, and with so little reason. They qualified for a third successive World Cup with ease and forced a draw in a friendly against Brazil in November, yet their football is infected with fear. To watch them play is to experience a dystopian world in which imagination has been outlawed. In the end, they went out of the Cup of Nations on Saturday because their self-doubt proved an even stronger than Malian self-destructiveness. The Mali goalkeeper Djigui Diarra took the plaudits but this was a game Tunisia should never have lost. For over an hour and half they played against 10. They took the lead in the 89th minute. Twice they led in the shootout. And somehow they still lost, undermined by their own unwillingness to take the game on. If they had only played, they would surely have won but as so often before, Tunisia did not just play. They squabbled and spoiled, feigned injury and moaned, and every so often forgot themselves, played a handful of passes and looked the decent side that they really should be. Continue reading...
dlvr.it
January 3, 2026 at 10:48 PM
Premier League’s warped economics make £65m fee for Semenyo a snip | Jonathan Wilson
Premier League’s warped economics make £65m fee for Semenyo a snip | Jonathan Wilson
Price tag for winger’s move to Manchester City would make headlines in any other country but not in England Antoine Semenyo, it seems likely, will soon join Manchester City from Bournemouth for a fee of £65m. Given how well Rayan Cherki and Phil Foden have played from the right this season, it is not immediately obvious why City need him, but the modern game is the modern game, the rammed calendar makes large and flexible squads essential and Pep Guardiola may have some esoteric plan for the Ghanaian anyway. But perhaps what is most striking about the deal is the fee – or, more precisely, how little attention it has drawn. English football has become inured to big transfers. The fee feels about right. Semenyo is 25. He has four and a half years left on his contract. He is quick, skilful, intelligent and works hard. He is disciplined, but has the capacity to do the unexpected. Of course a player of his ability costs that much. Yet £65m would make him the third-most expensive player in Bundesliga history. He would be the seventh-most expensive in Serie A history, the 14th-most expensive in La Liga history. Only nine non-English clubs have paid a fee higher than that. Even in Premier League terms, Semenyo sneaks into the top 25. Continue reading...
dlvr.it
January 3, 2026 at 8:23 PM
I’m the ‘miracle’ woken from a coma by Kenny Dalglish after Hillsborough. And now I’ve met him again
I’m the ‘miracle’ woken from a coma by Kenny Dalglish after Hillsborough. And now I’ve met him again
It’s said that you should never meet your heroes, but 36 years after the Liverpool manager sat by my hospital bed, I got to thank our greatest ally Born to a son of Anfield in a Warwickshire village, I grew up geographically remote from my spiritual football home. Emotionally, though, the pull of the boys in red was ever-present: from my first game at Anfield in 1974 to FA Cup final defeat at Wembley in ’77, to witnessing the first of Liverpool’s six European Cups, in Rome, when my first hero, Kevin Keegan, ran Berti Vogts ragged. I cried when Keegan left, but soon a new king was born in my imagination: Kenny Dalglish, that wily, tough, insanely skilful Scot. I travelled the country to follow my team through the peaks and troughs that culminated in the lowest possible low, on 15 April 1989, the day of the FA Cup semi-final between Liverpool and Nottingham Forest. There are many things I remember about Hillsborough, some of which returned to me years, even decades, later. My dad saying: “If it’s a nice day tomorrow, we’ll go.” Ian St John on the end of my hospital bed. My best mate laughing as I struggled to eat a yoghurt. The endless bright white lights of the Royal Hallamshire. The surreal trip to my local hospital in an ancient, drafty ambulance. One thing I don’t remember, though, is meeting my hero. And for good reason. For I’m the “miracle” boy woken by the sound of Kenny’s voice when he spoke at my bedside. Continue reading...
dlvr.it
January 3, 2026 at 4:16 PM