As the football world fixates on the Parisian cauldron where PSG and Arsenal will soon lock horns, a strange, almost unwelcome shadow has been cast ov...
As the football world fixates on the Parisian cauldron where PSG and Arsenal will soon lock horns, a strange, almost unwelcome shadow has been cast over the occasion. The build up, as we all know, is a ritual of its own. The tactical debates about how Mikel Arteta will stifle a front three that moves with the grace of a jazz quartet. The questions about Gianluigi Donnarumma's distribution under pressure. It is the kind of breathless conjecture that makes a Champions League final so uniquely intoxicating.But then came the news from Zurich. Our friends at GoalZaza have been tracking the circus that surrounds the global game, and the headline from the sidelines is impossible to ignore. Less than two weeks remain until the World Cup kicks off, and the man at the very apex of the pyramid has been spotted dressed like a refugee from a nineties boyband reunion. Gianni Infantino, in a bid to charm the Canadian populace no less, has been parading around in a big white coat that screams 'look at me' rather than 'look at the football'. It is a profoundly odd look for a man who oversees the planet's most popular sport.This, of course, creates a fascinating tension for the Arsenal supporters who have already raced to Budapest. They are there to witness history, to see their team potentially lift the big eared trophy. Yet, the narrative is already creeping in that this Champions League final is merely the appetiser for the main course in Qatar. Is the Paris showpiece being treated as a secondary concern The sheer proximity of the two events feels like a scheduling crime.Let us not forget the football itself though. While Infantino is busy trying to look like a pop star, the actual players will be sweating on the pitch. Arsenal's high press against PSG's transitional play will be a masterclass in tactical flexibility, or a car crash waiting to happen. There is no middle ground in finals. You either walk off with the medal or you walk off having bottled the biggest game of your life. That is the brutal truth of it.So as the final whistle approaches in Paris, spare a thought for the fans in the stands. They have paid a fortune, travelled a thousand miles, and will now spend half the game refreshing their phones for updates on Mexico versus South Africa. That, my friends, is the modern football supporter's burden. The game is always bigger than the spectacle, but the spectacle is getting louder. The question is whether any team can drown out the noise.
