The question and answer format is much resorted to in France. To one more versed in the “cut-to-the-chase” school of Anglo-American journalism, however, it can come across as woolly, evasive and self-indulgent.
By relating a conversation word for word as it happened, or purporting to, the convention both implies that every cough and splutter uttered by the protagonists is worthy of the reader’s attention and largely abdicates the editing function.
So it was with a certain amount of trepidation that I embarked on Parlons Football (Let’s Talk Football), the new book by UEFA President Michel Platini, whose format consists of a daunting 288 pages of Q and A. If Platini were not one of FIFA President Sepp Blatter’s most likely successors, I probably would not have bothered. And indeed I did find that the book was not without the longueurs that are an occupational hazard of the genre.
But I also have to say that, having reached the end of it, I felt I had attained a significantly deeper understanding of what makes one of football’s most powerful – and inventive – administrators tick than I possessed when I started. And that is probably the only justification that a book such as this needs.
There are also moments when the playfulness that the format can lend itself to, especially in the hands of an experienced and knowledgeable interviewer such as Gérard Ernault, who first met Platini as an 18-year-old in a Nancy café, where he played pinball and ordered a milk and grenadine syrup, comes vividly into its own.
I am thinking, for example, of when Ernault asks Platini how he finds FIFA today. “Blatterian.” Is that a criticism or a statement of fact? “Statement of fact.” You were Joseph Blatter’s ally for a long time. “But I am not his enemy…”
The UEFA President must have been feeling particularly playful that day. A page later, when Ernault remarks, “No, you don’t regret anything”, he accepts the implicit invitation to pick up Piaf’s lyric. “Non, rien de rien. Non, je ne regrette rien.”
As a footballer, he was of course one of the greats. One of the lessons I will take from the book is how profoundly his playing experience, at times vividly recalled, has shaped his thinking as one of the game’s most influential administrators. For example, he floats the idea of replacing FIFA’s representatives on the International Football Association Board (IFAB), which decides changes to the laws of the game, with an academy of former players. I think his preoccupation with keeping the game flowing is also largely a consequence of this.
He remembers the epic 1982 World Cup semi-final game between France and West Germany, lost on penalties after a breathtaking 3-3 draw as “THE moment of my life as a player…From hope to despair, the life of a man in a single match”.
He nevertheless recalls just as vividly a single volleyed cross-field pass executed by László Kubala of Barcelona in a friendly match in the town of Metz that he witnessed at the age of eight.
This was of course exactly the sort of beau geste with which Platini himself was later to become associated. So much so that it comes as something of a surprise when he attributes his relatively early retirement – at the age, as Ernault writes, of 31 years 10 months and 26 days – to his dwindling goal tally. “I was no longer scoring goals. I no longer had a goal.”
And then there is Heysel, when Platini scored the goal that won the European Cup for Juventus on one of the blackest days in European football history. The awful evening, when 38 people lost their lives, still haunts him – how could it not? But his comments also make plain that there is a direct link between that ghastly, soul-draining experience and his drive as UEFA President to forge a better relationship between European football and the European Union.
“Football’s responsibilities at Heysel are evident,” he says. “But how blind were the [public authorities] in the face of the increasing violence in European football in the 1970s and 1980s! Responsibilities were shared. European football had become too distant from Europe itself. I have done nothing since becoming President of UEFA but undertake a rapprochement with the European Commission.”
The book contains a certain amount of grist for those looking to second-guess possible future administrative decisions. He sees no point in having an age ceiling for referees, provided they remain good and fit enough. He wants to see players sin-binned for 10 minutes, signalled by a white card, if they dispute decisions with too much gusto. He would like UEFA to be granted a bigger role in the monitoring and settlement of player transfers, and for agents’ fees to be capped at 3%.
He also claims that in January 1998, Blatter suggested that he – Platini – run to succeed João Havelange for the FIFA Presidency, a position that Blatter himself of course ended up taking. “He got this idea from Havelange in person,” Platini maintains. “‘Platini President, you General Secretary, that would be very elegant.’ It would perhaps have been very elegant, but it wasn’t very realistic. In January 1998 I had my hands full with the World Cup, but more especially I didn’t feel at all ready to exercise such a responsibility.”
Many of Platini’s turns of phrase will also stick in the mind, whether or not one agrees with them. “Today…it’s easier for a referee to earn respect than a teacher or a parent”; “Doping falsifies sport, match-fixing kills it”; “The quality of a player resides firstly in his mastery of the ball, only then comes mastery of space.”
One thing I still cannot fathom, though, even after 288 pages of Q and A, is his opposition to goal-line technology – especially now both the Premier League and dear old FIFA have shown it can be deployed without interrupting the flow of the game.
David Owen worked for 20 years for the Financial Times in the United States, Canada, France and the UK. He ended his FT career as sports editor after the 2006 World Cup and is now freelancing, including covering the 2008 Beijing Olympics, the 2010 World Cup and London 2012. Owen’s Twitter feed can be accessed at www.twitter.com/dodo938.