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Here are some of my interviews of
various footballing personalities. I'll be adding to these soon, so check
back again.
Choi Yong-soo: The 'Eagle' on Anyang's success. There is an air of quiet confidence about the Anyang Cheetahs these days. As soon as one walks into the team's training camp at Kuri, on the outskirts of Seoul, the atmosphere is almost lighthearted, the improvement in results having lifted the team's spirits like the cool breeze blowing in off the Han River. The ruthless efficiency with which they have dispatched all-comers has installed one of last year's whipping boys as favourites for the K-League title. Gone is the leaky defence that last season sabotaged so many fine attacking displays, while the arrival of Brazilian Andre Santos and Olympic team star Lee Young-pyo have added control and stability to a midfield that finally appears able to dictate the tempo of games. Up front, however, Cho Kwang-rae's side sports a familiar look, which is no surprise, since scoring goals has rarely been a problem. Talented 24-year-old Jung Kwang-min has been delivering on the promise he showed last season, and is among the K-League's leading scorers. And then there is Choi Yong-soo. Idolised by the Cheetahs' fans, the tall number 10 is one of a breed of player whose very presence on the pitch is enough to inspire team-mates and worry opponents. Anyang fans will tell you that ''when Choi Yong-soo plays well, Anyang play well,'' and in the early part of the 2000 K-League season, both appear to be doing very nicely thank you. Sitting in the only patch of shade in the training ground the Cheetahs share with the LG Twins baseball team, Choi radiates a calmness that is disarming coming from probably the league's most aggressive striker. As well as the prospect of steering the ambitious but underachieving club toward their first title in 10 years, 'The Eagle' is motivated by the knowledge that he is hitting top form at just the right time to catch the eye of national team coach Huh Jung-moo as he prepares for the Asian Cup in October. Choi doesn't seem particularly surprised at how things have been going. He believes the talent was there all along, and is quick to credit his head coach with giving the team the organization it needed to complement this. "I think the reason we're doing so much better this season is because the team is more settled," he points out. "Last year, head coach Cho was new to the team, so it took time for everyone to get used to a new system and a new style of play. Now coach Cho has got us playing the way he wants, and we're doing much better." Anyang's leading scorer last season, Choi has been playing wider and deeper this year, taking on the role of provider for Jung Kwang-min as often as going for glory himself. It is not an assignment that would sit well with every one of the league's big names, but he shrugs it off as part of the job. "It's a bit different, but the team and the results are the most important," he insists. "If it helps us to win, I can play this way. I'm getting used to it, and I'm enjoying it." With national coach Huh Jung-moo concentrating almost exclusively on the U-23 side, not many of Korea's more experienced hands have had a chance to shine, and Choi in particular has had very little playing time. There have been claims that Huh is not a fan of the Anyang star's style of play, and that things would be different under another coach, but Choi is having none of it. "I don't care who the coach is," he says. "It doesn't make any difference. I'll always do my best to play hard for whoever coaches the team." To those who know Choi, that he will do his best is taken for granted. As well as having dynamite in both boots and being strong in the air, one of his strengths is an intensely competitive nature, which is loved by the Cheetahs' followers, but has not endeared him to the K-League's defenders. "I don't think I'm consciously aggressive, but I've been told some defenders are scared of me," he says, allowing himself a slight grin. "Once I get into the game, I'm so focussed, everything is blocked out. I don't think about whether I'm being overly aggressive, and I don't think about getting injured either. I just put everything into it and play hard - that's the way I am." This quality is what makes many believe Choi is an indispensable part of the national squad going into the Asian Cup, a competition in which many of Korea's stars have failed to live up to their reputations in the 40 years of failure since the trophy last came to rest in Seoul. Choi thinks Korea have never lacked the ability to perform, but that their attitude has let them down in Asian Competition. This is something he has already experienced this season, as Anyang meekly surrendered to Steve Perryman's Shimizu S-Pulse in the Asian Cup Winners' Cup. "The professional clubs in Korea tend to concentrate more on the domestic league, and the Korean people concentrate very much on the World Cup," he points out. "Players go out and get good results for the national team, but don't seem to attach as much importance to the international club competitions. "The situation is different from other countries, such as Japan, who treat these competitions with the same importance as their domestic league. In the same way, many players seem to think that once we do okay in the World Cup qualifiers, the other competitions don't matter so much." This complacency is something that may change this time around, with Korea determined to prove it is a worthy co-host for Asia's first World Cup. On top of this is the singular failure of the traditional powerhouse to make any impression on the competition since winning the first two tournaments in 1956 and 1960. There is also a small matter of wounded pride to attend to. "This year's Asian Cup is followed by the World Cup," says Choi, "so it takes on great importance for Korea. "Four years ago, we lost by a large margin to Iran," he recalls, visibly wincing at the memory of being destroyed 6-2 by Ali Daei and company in the quarterfinal in Dubai. "We would really like to avenge that. This time, we're really out to win the tournament. "I'm aware that Korea hasn't done well in the Asian Cup for a long time, so it would also be good to put that right." The Cheetahs' current spell of results should also give Choi the chance to play a part in sorting all these matters out, and he is keenly aware that the national team's coaching staff are regularly attending K-League ties to keep an eye on the talent at their disposal. To the Anyang star, a run of consistent form at club level is the key to a return to international duty, and, he insists, last year's early-season slump was what counted against him, rather than the whims of coaches. "I'll do my best to play well in the league and let things take care of themselves," he says. "If I play well enough and stay in good shape, then I know I'll be picked for the national team. Last year, I wasn't completely healthy and I had some poor performances." Should Choi travel and produce the goods in Lebanon, it will stand him in good stead for what has to be every Korean footballer's dream, leading the frontline in front of tens of thousands of his countrymen as the world's finest come to Korea in 2002. He will be 28 by that time, and should, in theory, be at the peak of his abilities. With the physical nature and poor playing surfaces of the K-League, however, he is not about to tempt fate by looking that far ahead. "I can't guarantee I'm going to stay at this level," he cautions, "but I'm going to try to stay consistent and take care of my health. The World Cup obviously means a lot to me." Like most of the continent's players, Choi's other major ambition is to get to Europe. This dream came tantalisingly close to being realised in 1999, as he got so far as to earn a trial with West Ham United, but failed to impress sufficiently to earn a move to the London club. "Things didn't work out the way I wanted them to," he concedes," but it was a good experience to go and mix with some top European players. If the opportunity comes around again, I'd love to go and play alongside the best in Europe." Fiercely patriotic, like all Koreans, Choi is also looking forward to lining up alongside his cousins from north of the peninsula's curiously named Demilitarised Zone, in reality probably the most heavily fortified piece of real-estate on the planet. The recent thaw in inter-Korean relations has brought the possibility of a unified team playing in Lebanon. "Because of the (North-South Korean) summit, it's going to be historic for the two Korean teams to play together," Choi says. "It'll be a big issue worldwide, and will bring international recognition to the Korean peninsula." Some are worried, nevertheless, that political expediencies may lead to the inclusion of a certain number of token North Koreans, who, in football terms, have slipped well behind the South. "I can't see that being a problem," counters Choi. "Personally, I think the two teams can complement each other and make up for each other's deficiencies. "Anyway, a unified team is something the Korean people really want. To
me, it's about football, not political issues. It's just a case of the two
Koreas, who are one people, getting together to play football." The Lion King: Lee Dong-gook There is a new breed of player in Korean football. In a nation where individualism is generally seen as a vice, an increasing number of talented youngsters are daring to be different.Going against the grain of a Confucian culture where seniority and education are regarded as paramount, players like Ko Jong-soo and Choi Tai-uk have foregone the traditional route to a professional career, skipping university and signing for K-League teams straight out of high school. Seol Ki-hyun and Park Ji-sung have shocked their elders by quitting college to go in search of their dreams, Seol with Manchester United feeder club Royal Antwerp and Park with the J. League's Kyoto Purple Sanga. There are also signs that this generation is determined to assert itself more. National team striker Lee Dong-gook is a prime example. A series of impressive performances this season have made Lee Korean football's hottest property, attracting the attention of scouts worldwide.For now though, the 21-year-old's top priority is recovery from the knee injury that has dogged him for most of the year. His status as National Treasure means exceptions have been made in order for him to avail of the state-of-the-art facilities of the Samsung Sports Centre near Seoul. "This center is usually only used by members of Samsung-owned sports teams," explains Dr. Ahn Byung-choul, "but Dong-gook is very important to Korean football." Intelligent, articulate and outspoken, the Pohang Steelers' star is a million miles from the Korean stereotype of athletes as morons who are at their best when following instructions. Lee has his own ideas, and is not shy about expressing them. Responding to the suggestion that the Korean football system may be too severe on players, Lee is unequivocal. "I think exactly the same," he says. "My team wants to force me to play in the FA Cup. I've told them I'm exhausted and injured. I want to rest and prepare for next season, so I want to stay here and recover for two or three weeks." Not for Lee, then, the party line of sacrificing all for the team? I don't want to overdo it," he says. "If I'm not in good condition, I don't want to play." A change of coach at Pohang may, however, be part of the modernisation of Korean football. Under Choi Soon-ho, the Steelers look set to abandon the rigid, physical style of Park Sung-hwa. "Coach Park emphasised teamwork, organisation and defensive play," Lee points out, "whereas coach Choi puts more stress on individual skill, short passing and attacking football." One obvious beneficiary of this is Abbas Obeid Jassim. Despite making the Asian Cup Best Eleven, the Iraqi struggled to hold down a place at Pohang this season. Lee is in no doubt where the problem lay.
"I didn't feel pressured to score lots of goals," he insists. "Korea started badly, and my only goal was to help the team recover. I also got good support from my team-mates, so it was easier to score." Like any celebrity in his homeland, Lee attracts relentless media attention, and is less than pleased about the constant rumours that have him on the verge of signing for clubs all over the world. "I get very upset," he says. "According to the Korean media, over the past few years, I could have played for hundreds of teams. I've said to Korean reporters, 'Why do you do this? Leave me alone. If I'm going overseas, I'll tell you before I go, so please don't write your reports by guessing.' "They admit they do this, and say they're under pressure to get the story first, but this is why false articles are everywhere. The reports aren't based on talking to me. They just hear a scout is in Korea, and they write 'Lee Dong-gook wants to play for this team,' just as if I had said it in an interview, so readers may believe I've said it. I often see reports and wonder 'When did I say that?'" A good example was when negotiations for a transfer to Perugia broke down earlier this year. The youngster's reaction to the setback proves to have been considerably more mature that of some who reported it. "I thought it was a perfectly natural decision by Perugia," he concedes. "The main reason the contract broke down was because I refused to take the test they asked for. I was having treatment in Germany. I didn't know how my knee was, and neither did Perugia, so of course they wanted to test me. No team would want to buy a player with bad knees without a test - It's natural." "But the papers said 'Lee Dong-gook is in a deep depression.' I wondered why I had to be depressed." Far from being discouraged, Lee is ready to try again at any time. The difficulties currently being experienced by his countryman Ahn Jung-hwan in Italy have prompted much negative comment at home, but he insists this will not affect any decision he has to make. "I'm not afraid of going abroad," he declares. "I really hope Jung-hwan succeeds, but I don't think it has any bearing on me. Some people say because of him, Korean football looks bad, but this kind of thing comes from people who know nothing about football. "Anyway, if I were old, and I failed overseas, I'd have nowhere left to go. But I'm young enough, so if I try and fail, I can come back to Korea and prepare to try again. For every Korean footballer, the current focus has to be on the next World Cup. Many are expecting the player they call 'The Lion King' to be the pride of his nation in 2002, and he is as excited about it as anyone. "I think I'm very lucky," he says, his eyes lighting up. "I never expected football could be this popular in Korea. I hope this boom can raise the standard of Korean football. Of course, first I have to make sure of my place in the national team. But I hope we can make the last 16." Koreans will demand no less, but Lee believes the pressure will be offset by playing at home. "When you play overseas, sometimes you don't play well because you're nervous," he admits. "There's a little pressure in being the host nation, but because we're at home, we'll be more comfortable." Recent results have prompted much soul-searching within Korean
football, with many saying it is time to discard old ways for the sake of
the game here. Lee Dong-gook and others like him may be the vanguard of
the sweeping changes Koreans now realize they need. They could do a lot
worse. A K-League Legend: Age no barrier to Anyang 'keeper Shin Ui-son At the end of the 1991 season, Torpedo Moscow's Valeri Sarytchev was named the Soviet Union's Goalkeeper of the Year. No small honor in a country that had in the past produced such legendary figures as Lev Yashin and Rinat Dasaev. For some, it seemed Sarytchev's talent had taken him to his limit, and it was time to bow out gracefully. The big 'keeper smiles at the memory. ''My coach told me, 'You're 32. You're an old man. Maybe you should go to some other country, make a little money for the last few years before you retire.''' It is December 2000. Valeri Sarytchev, now known as Shin Ui-son, is sitting in the Ritz-Carlton Hotel, having just picked up the K-League's Defensive Player of the Year award for a record fourth time. It is unlikely any foreign player will ever again have the same impact on Korean football as the gentle giant from Tajikistan. With the amount of trophies in his collection, one would imagine Shin, at 40 years of age, would be satisfied. If he is, though, he shows no sign of it. ''I won three league championships, the Asian Club Championship, the Asian Super Cup and the Intercontinental Cup,'' he recalls. ''Now this year (with Anyang), we won the league again. I've got six trophies, but maybe I'd like to win some more.'' It may not be easy however. Shin points to a heavy brace on his knee, in place since a cruciate ligament operation at the end of November. ''Only this is the problem,'' he insists. ''My body is no problem. You know, for two years, I played no football. It was very interesting for me, to come back at 40 years old, and see if I could play. I tried, and it was okay. No, it was good.'' To Shin, meeting this challenge has been a source of immense satisfaction. ''I don't really care about others' opinions,'' he insists. ''I only care about my future. You ask me about the past, about best moments, but now is the best. Now is really interesting for me. It's like a second life.'' Adjusting to life in Korea was not easy. Shin grimaces as he thinks back to when he arrived. ''It was so difficult,'' he recalls. ''Life was strange. Even football was strange. I just had to play, play, play, play, and there was too much training. ''I had so much stress. Within weeks, I was losing my hair,'' he laughs, running a hand over his now famous dome. A controversial ruling by the K-League authorities almost brought Shin's career to what would have surely been a premature end. His success had prompted many other teams to go in search of goalkeepers overseas. Worried that Korea would stop producing its own altogether, the league authorities placed a limit on how many games a foreign goalkeeper could play in a season. ''I thought I was finished,'' he says. ''When they said in 1996 I couldn't play in 30 percent of the games, it was okay, but the next year, 50 percent, that was a problem. ''If you want to play well as a goalkeeper, you must play lots of games. Training is not enough. So when they brought it down to 10 games, I just had to give up.'' That was not the end, however. Anyang head coach Cho Kwang-rae suggested to Shin, who was by now the Cheetahs goalkeeping coach, that he take Korean citizenship. ''I thought about it,'' he remembers, ''and decided I would do anything to play again. My father was a little against it, but my mother said 'You're a man. You know what you should do.'' There was, of course, the small matter of passing the citizenship examination. ''Before I took it, I was worried,'' he reveals. ''Someone told me it was really difficult, and I had only 20 days to prepare. But it was actually very easy.'' Having passed the test, Valeri Sarytchev became the first foreign footballer to be granted Korean citizenship. For his Korean name, he took the advice of his coach, who suggested he take the name by which most Koreans had already known him for many years, Shin Ui-son, meaning ''Hands of God.'' A shaky start was followed by the Cheetahs storming to their first K- League title in 10 years, with Shin and a powerful backline combining for the league's best defensive record. Plaudits and awards followed. Chances are Shin will finally be brought to his knees by his cruciate ligament injury, but it would be unwise to bet against him making yet another comeback. ''Leaving Russia was like the end,'' he says, ''but I had a second life
in Korea. Then this year, I started again, so maybe a fourth life is not
impossible'' Im Eun-ju: A woman for all seasons Korea. Land of mist and mountains. Land of fiery cuisine and high-octane liquor. But land of pioneers in the advancement of the status of women - surely some mistake? Apparently not. In this Confucian bastion of male supremacy, one confident and tenacious young woman is preparing for an assault on territory as yet unconquered by her gender. "Maybe I can referee in the 2002 World Cup," says Im Eun-ju, the first woman in Korea to wield a whistle in the professional league. "I know FIFA intend to give a woman a chance to do games then. I'm the first female FIFA referee in Korea. Maybe I can be the first woman to referee in the men's World Cup." If this seems a trifle ambitious, think again. Anyone doubting Im's ability to stick with the pace of men's football obviously hasn't seen the ex-international player doing her stuff in the K-League. Far from being daunted, she clearly enjoys the challenge. "Actually, I prefer doing men's games rather than women's," she says, "because it's fast and tough. "In Korea, I never referee women's games, but sometimes the Asian Football Confederation appoints me to them," she adds, with a slight hint of annoyance in her voice, perhaps at the AFC's tendency to see her as just a 'woman referee.' "Sometimes women's games are more difficult," Im goes on. "It's harder to judge what is an intentional foul, what is unintentional? In the men's game, it's very clear. So if I prepare, physically and mentally, men's games are easier." Im's career has already gone beyond what she expected when she first became involved, wanting to stay in football after she finished her playing days. "At first, it was a hobby. I could make many friends," she says. "But now I'm a professional referee." At the 1999 women's World Cup finals in the USA, Im took charge of the third-place playoff, but was disappointed not be involved in the decider. "At first, they had appointed me for the final," she revealed, "but the Chinese team got to the final, so I couldn't do it because I'm Asian." Korean society has long frowned upon women who dare to enter 'men's professions.' So how do the K-League's best and brightest react to being ordered around by a woman, who, under the traditional scheme of things, would be at home washing socks and raising the children? "I have given many cautions and sent off some players, but I've never had to give a caution for protesting," she says. "Nobody protests to me. Sometimes my colleagues say to me, 'we don't understand. Why is it no player complains to you?' But I went to America for the World Cup. I have a lot of experience of big games, so I'm well-known in Korea. So maybe players trust me." Im's confidence in her ability is matched by a willingness to stand up for herself when the occasion demands. When the Pusan Royals protested to the league authorities over her sending off of their star player Ahn Jung-hwan, she was quick to counter, saying Korean football was in big trouble if teams were to start challenging decisions on sexist grounds. As her career progresses, Im finds the weight of expectation becoming heavier, with those around her egging her on to bigger and better things. "I want to study sports marketing, so I wanted to retire after the Olympics," she says. "But I can't control my life, because everybody, even (KFA) President Chung Mong-joon, tells me I should continue until the 2002 World Cup." If World Cup 2002 sees Im Eun-ju striding out to make history in front
of tens of thousands of her compatriots, one would imagine she will find
it in her heart to forgive those who have been pushing her to aim for the
top. Bobby Charlton: Reflections on a life in football At a time when the hype surrounding football is greater than ever before, and superlatives are part of the game's everyday vocabulary, any reference to a 'legend' is likely to be met with cynicism in certain quarters. Few, however, would quibble with the right to such status of Sir Bobby Charlton. Winner of a World Cup with England and a European Champions' Cup with Manchester United, Charlton was also European Footballer of the Year, and in 1994, received a knighthood for his services to the game. During his career Charlton's fame reached such heights it was said that "All over the world there were children who could speak only two words of English. One was 'Bobby,' the other was 'Charlton.' Having reached the pinnacle of his profession with both club and country, Charlton has memories that most players envy. Asked about the greatest of these, he says simply, "Winning." It is something to which he is no stranger. "The World Cup was good," he says, "but it was only a three-week tournament, and we didn't qualify, because it was in England. But the quality of play in the World Cup is really something. If you're a footballer and you can win a World Cup winners' medal, that's some satisfaction." "The Champions' Cup takes two years," he points out. "You have to win your own domestic championship, which is hard, and then you go and you beat everybody else. The European Cup was very personal for Man. United. We were the first ones to go into Europe, against the wishes of everyone else. We said 'that's where the future is, we'll go in that,' and in a way, that's what we're doing now," he says, referring to Manchester United's decision to take part in the World Club Championship, which meant pulling out of this year's F.A. Cup. "We're European champions, so we were invited to play against the champions of all the other confederations, and we're pleased to do it. We might never get an opportunity again. Unfortunately, it means we can't play in the F.A. Cup, but that's only for this year. Next year it'll be back to normal. I think it's a competition that has merit. I think it'll be a big thing in the future. Maybe the Toyota Cup, which we have at the moment for the champions of Europe and South America, is out of date." Charlton's achievements as a player are put into perspective by the era in which he played. Listening to him talk about his most respected opponents is like hearing a roll-call of the greatest exponents the game has seen. "We always found it difficult against Brazil," he recalls. "We hardly ever beat them. We played them more over in Brazil than at home, to be honest. The great Real Madrid side, with DiStefano, Gento and Puskas - they were a wonderful team. People like (Johann) Cruyff, (Franz) Beckenbauer, superb players really, who would play in any era. I was pleased to be around at that time." As for the difference between Charlton's heyday and the modern game, he says "it's a different game altogether. We played on muddy pitches, we played with a heavy ball. We didn't have the same preparation as they do these days. It's very scientific. Everything's done - nutrition, fitness, the medical side is much more high profile. But I would say that the players we had in the past would play today without any question, and vice versa. Players don't change much, it's just the environment really. "It's great to be in England at the moment. The Premierships successful. More people are watching it on television than any other sport. It's just marvelous, so we've got to try and keep it going. We should never be complacent and sit back and say how good we are." At international level, English football has never since reached the heights it scaled in the summer of 1966. Charlton is looking forward to next year's European Championships, "but not with great enthusiasm. I don't think we can expect to do really well, but we hit our lowest point in the match against Scotland. We're not going to play any worse than that, and yet we've qualified. We might have got through with a good deal of good fortune, so it may well be that we could capitalise on that. I think we might do okay." Given the success he enjoyed as a player, many people were surprised that Charlton dabbled only briefly in management. He has no regrets however. "I made the right decision. I can concentrate my efforts now in a different way. I can help through coaching, through the Football Association, through FIFA. It's just a different direction." As a director of his beloved Manchester United, and in his capacity as
ambassador for England's bid to stage the 2006 World Cup finals, Sir Bobby
is still very active in football. Whatever direction it takes, his
continued involvement can only be good for United, for England and for the
game worldwide. Geoff Hurst: Trying to win another World Cup for England. They thought it was all over. England, the country that gave football to the world, was hosting the World Cup for the first time. With seconds remaining, and the trophy seemingly in the bag, Germany had snatched an equaliser, forcing the final into extra-time. Now, with the July sun beating down and a crowd of almost 100,000 buzzing in anticipation, England manager Sir Alf Ramsey was moving among his players sprawled on the Wembley turf, willing them to summon up the energy for a last desperate push. What followed is well known by anyone with even a remote interest in football. Early in extra-time, Geoff Hurst, scorer of England's first goal after Germany had taken an early lead, got the ball with his back to goal, spun and crashed a shot off the underside of the crossbar. After consulting his linesman, the referee awarded the goal. With the celebrations already under way, Hurst thumped home England's fourth, becoming the first, and still the only, player to score a hat-trick in a World Cup final. English successes against Germany have proved elusive since the heyday of Hurst, Bobby Moore and Bobby Charlton. Defending their title in 1970, England surrendered a two-goal lead and wilted under the Mexican sun, allowing their great rivals to send them home early. More recently, English hearts have been broken by penalty shootout losses to German teams on their way to winning the World Cup and European Championship. It seems appropriate then, that with another World Cup at stake, the Football Association has turned back the clock and asked Sir Geoff Hurst to lace up his boots for one more contest. This time, however, the prize is not the trophy itself, but the hosting of the entire tournament in 2006. ''I remember it now as clearly as the day it was played,'' Hurst says of the 1966 World Cup final. ''I think I didn't fully appreciate it at the time. I was just 24, and it seemed perfectly natural to be there. It was only years later, looking back, that I got a full sense of what we'd accomplished.'' The World Cup triumph was the climax of a rise that can only be described as dizzying. Not long before, England could have lost their future hero to his other love. ''I did briefly think of sticking to cricket,'' he admits. ''For a time, when the rest were gone to Chile (for the 1962 World Cup), I was playing more cricket than football.'' The next few years, however, were to change all that, with Hurst emerging as one of England's most feared strikers. In 1964, his club, West Ham United, won the F.A. Cup at Wembley Stadium. The following year, he was in the West Ham side that defeated Munich 1860 to take the European Cup Winners' Cup at the same venue. ''When you think about it, in 1962, (Hurst's West Ham teammate) Bobby Moore was at the World Cup in Chile and I was playing cricket, and just four years later, there we were, winning the World Cup together,'' he says. Hurst was a loyal servant to West Ham, making almost 500 games for the club, which as he points out, is proud of its contribution to England's only major success to date. ''People sometimes forget that West Ham supplied the captain, Bobby Moore, and both of the goalscorers in the final, myself and Martin Peters.'' At West Ham's home ground, Upton Park, there is a stand named after the late Sir Bobby Moore, as well as a hospitality suite, appropriately named the '66 club, which Hurst regularly hosts on matchdays. Hurst clearly revels in his current task, whether it involves rubbing shoulders with FIFA bigwigs to persuade them of the worth of England's bid, or attending press conferences where he fields the same questions he has answered countless times. One local journalist here who asked about the controversial goal in the 1966 final was perplexed when Hurst shot back ''Are you a Scotsman?'' Eloquent, charismatic and highly respected, he seems well suited to his role as ambassador for England's bid to host the 2006 World Cup. Diplomatic to a fault, the big Lancastrian is quick to point out to those inclined to talk of the contest in terms of a battle between England, Germany and South Africa that Brazil and Morocco are also in the running. He also refuses to comment on the other countries involved, preferring to concentrate on the merits of the English bid. All the same, the mention of the leading part being played in the German bid by his old rival Franz Beckenbauer brings a mischievous twinkle to his eye, and it appears that beneath the admiration he holds for the man known as 'der Kaiser' lies a determination to come out of this contest on top. ''Beckenbauer was a great player, one of the best the world has ever seen,'' Hurst acknowledges. ''But Sir Bobby and I enjoyed beating him all those years ago, and we'll be doing our best to beat him off the pitch this time around.'' If England once again loses out to Germany, it could be a long time before the home of football gets the chance to host the world's greatest sporting event. Sir Geoff Hurst will be aware of this, and as he goes about trying to bring the World Cup back to Wembley, he no doubt occasionally recalls the famous words of Alf Ramsey as he tried to rally his exhausted charges for extra-time: ''You've won it once. Now you must win it again.'' | |
"Coach
Park didn't support Jassim," he says, so he couldn't play well." "Coach
Choi doesn't put pressure on him, so Jassim says he feels more confident
and comfortable." Like Jassim, Lee was also picked as one of the Asian
Cup's top players, but he plays down the significance of standing out
among such luminaries as Ali Daei and Jassem al Houwaidi.