Rooney, 3D and a four-year-old

Andy Mitten — Tue, 19 Oct 2010 11:17:00 GMT

Saturday was a troubling day. I watched United throw away a two-goal lead to West Brom. I don’t like watching football in a pub at the best of times, but I was in Barcelona and Old Trafford isn’t.

The last I saw a game in a pub was on 3D in September. I was pleasantly surprised. The pub had six screens, one of which boasted 3D. A dozen people sat in front wearing plastic glasses that were handed out at the bar.

Two fans joined just before kick-off. They weren’t wearing glasses. They complained that the picture wasn’t clear and didn’t appear to notice that they were the only people not wearing glasses, nor that the screen had ‘3D’ on it. It was painful watching them squint, so I said "Excuse me – it’s in 3D mate. You get the glasses behind the bar."

The lad’s brain took a bit of time to process the information, but after two or three minutes he went to the bar and came back. He put the glasses on and squealed like a man who’d just been offered a night with Adriana Lima. His mate was having none of it. He had his own pair of normal glasses and didn’t see why he needed fancy 3D ones. So he watched the whole game squinting – when there was a perfectly normal screen behind him.

Adrian Lima (r): You'd clear your diary

I received a phone call after United’s draw with West Brom. "Ferguson wants Rooney out," said the caller, an A1 contact. A similar contact had told me in March of Rooney’s indiscretions. We printed a veiled version of it in United We Stand, as we didn’t have the resources to prove it. But we knew all wasn’t well. I walked to Camp Nou ahead of Barca’s match with Valencia with the Rooney news buzzing around my head.

Saturday was the first day in my life that I could ring my three brothers and ask them how their games had gone. The 33-year-old is coming to the end of his career, but still playing semi-pro.

The 16-year-old was promoted to Stockport County’s youth team a year ahead of schedule, but it was the four-year-old – our dad’s not dissimilar to Michael Douglas and Rod Stewart – to whom I was most looking forward to speaking. Turning four last week meant that he could join an under-fives team.

I called. Dad told me that the young 'un was playing with a tractor and that he’d try and get his attention. In the meantime, he told me how it had gone.

Upon being introduced to his young charge, the coach offered his hand. The four-year-old had never been offered a hand to shake before. So he did what any aspiring young footballer would do when his new boss offers his hand. He smelt it. Then he tried to touch his cap.

When the game started, he had no concept of the pitch markings and was also far more interested in his own shadow than the ball. "There wasn’t one kid there who'll make it," fumed my dad.

"But dad, he only turned four last week. It was only two weeks ago that he was taught to stop using his hands to stop the ball."

He was having none of it. The breathless four-year-old came on the phone and proudly stated that he’d played "like Rooney," so that tallied with my dad’s version. I didn’t press him further and let him return to his tractor.

But he’d put Rooney back in my mind, until a brilliant game between Barca and Valencia in front of 96,000 submerged it in my thoughts. Despite losing their best players, Valencia have been superb this season – mainly because of their manic coach who parades around his box, smudging the white lines like a madman. No wonder Unai Emery’s family call him "Anxious *rse".

He stated that his team were coming to the Camp Nou to win and they took the lead, before Barca narrowly triumphed 2-1. It was a fascinating encounter, top, top level and great to watch as a neutral. There were a few Scottish journalists over to watch Valencia ahead of the Rangers game, plus others with links to Manchester United. The conversation switched back to Rooney... unfortunately for my peace of mind.

Messi and Villa already on good terms - unlike Levante and Valencia

Andy Mitten — Wed, 19 May 2010 11:20:00 GMT

The offer to be an embedded journalist with adidas for the day at the launch of their new F50 boot sounded interesting.

I’d be shadowing two footballers - Lionel Messi and David Villa - around the Formula One track near Barcelona. They wouldn’t be racing, but two F1 cars decked out in adidas colours would deliver the new boots that both will wear in South Africa – the theme being ‘fast’ because they’re so light.

I’d have to speak to pit girls and take pictures of the day’s events. They didn’t have to twist my arm. For once, I was going to do what cockneys term ‘large it’.

Two days after the Spanish grand prix had witnessed a crowd of 100,000, I was on the train to the near empty circuit with a €3.20 return ticket. The world’s media were invited, but I was on the other side of the fence.

A lost looking Chinese journalist from Beijing was waiting at the station near the track. He was going to the launch too.

“Where are you from?” he asked.
“Manchester.”
“Ah, industrial,” he said.
“Not at all mate. Manchester’s got the best beaches in Western Europe after Stoke.”

How the other half live indeed...

We shared a taxi to the circuit two miles away. I was allowed in, he wasn’t. How the other half live, eh? I stuck by comrade journalist and got him in. The National Union of Journalists would have been proud, not that they have such unions in China.

“You’ve done well,” said Graham Hunter, who was there for Sky, dryly. Other journalists asked me if I could get them more time with Villa and Messi. I explained that I was supposed to be a fly on the wall and that stuff was nothing to do with me.

As the hack pack waited by the finish line on the racetrack, I was ushered into the garages by the pit lane to meet Messi and Villa. I tried to look as if I wasn’t enjoying it.

“Ah, FourFourTwo,” said one of Messi’s agents.
“Not today,” I replied.
“What about tomorrow?” he asked.
“Actually, I’m not really a journalist,” I lied, “I’m just doing this to raise money. I’ve been offered a trial for a team in Argentina called Newell’s Old Boys. They want an ageing Englishman with a big nose to inject a bit of fight into their club. So I’ll use the money to buy a flight.”

“Seriously?” said Messi, suddenly interested. I had his attention and he was on good form answering questions.

Villa was next. The two get on, which is good news as they’ve since been confirmed as teammates for next season, although at the time any questions from journalists about his future were deadpanned out of respect to his contract with Valencia.

He had a copy of FourFourTwo and was trying to name all the players on the cover. He got them all. I had a list of questions for him, but changed one word in one question to confuse him.

“Why is Cantabria renown as being the best region in the world?” I asked. Villa is proud to be from Asturias. Neighbouring Cantabria is definitely not Asturias in the same way that Manchester isn’t Liverpool.

He looked at my like I was mad before realising. If you’re a defender working out how to mark him and put him off his game, now you know a way into his mind.

I ask the pair to pose for a photo together. Pleasant, normal lads who just happen to be very, very good at association football. Then I told them what I’d do with it.

“I’m going to sell that picture to the Manchester newspaper with the headline, ‘United’s New Signings Spurn The Chance To Be City Mercenaries.”

“I dare you,” laughed one.

David and Lionel are already BFFs

Villa can’t speak English – and nor can Messi for that matter – but he had an English girl, Natalie, on hand, if he wanted to be converse in The Queen’s.

I’d not seen Natalie for five years. She used to work at Levante in Valencia and fixed me an interview with Levante legend Antonio Calpe when FourFourTwo did the More Than A Game derby feature on Valencia v Levante.

Calpe remains one of the best people I’ve ever interviewed. He was a big star at Levante in the 60s and played at Real Madrid for six years. He remained popular in Levante circles – probably their best ever player - but had never been interviewed by a foreign journalist when I asked him.

So he put a suit on and his wife baked some cakes to give to me. He was lovely man. I could have listened to him all day, though I’m sure Natalie had better things to do. His love of Levante was brilliant, and the way he slated Valencia, hilarious.

“Listen, Englishman,” he said with a cheeky smirk. “Valencia are thieves. They should not exist. You shouldn’t even be speaking to people from there for your article. You don’t know what you’ll catch. Levante is the team of Valencia, the pride of the city. Forza Levante!”

Villa might have similar thoughts about Cantabria, but it’ll be another 25 years before he can tell me, and not on adidas’s time.

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Confessions of a Correspondent : Barcelona, Valencia

Rooney, 3D and a four-year-old

Messi and Villa already on good terms - unlike Levante and Valencia