if you know someone in mumbai

Who needs any kind of help in terms of food, place to stay, communication, anything - let me know.

what a beautiful day

A historic moment in world politics has arrived, and it has done so in my lifetime. Congratulations to the United States for making it possible.

And congratulations to Roma, who have kept their Olimpico '09 dream alive.

mcenroe award nominee

YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS.

meeting diego della valle

This Thursday Eva, my colleague at work, mentioned going to get an interview and photoshoot for the magazine with the owner of Tod's. After we put the glass back in the windowpanes whence they'd fallen upon hearing my unearthly screech, she decided to take me along, which is how I ended up in the Tata Suite of the Taj Mahal Hotel this Friday evening meeting with Diego della Valle. For those reading this a hundred years from now without the benefit of an encyclopaedia, the Taj Mahal Hotel is an architectural and cultural landmark of Bombay built over a century ago next to the Gateway of India; Jamsetji Tata was the founder of the Tata company and is widely considered the father of modern Indian industry; Tod's is a luxury brand whose signature driving shoes, or gommini, have been the cornerstone of its international designer leather label; Diego della Valle is the Italian businessman who owns Tod's and also the Italian football club Fiorentina, which he bought in 2002 along with his younger brother Andrea della Valle.

For my part I am glad to report that he seemed happy to observe an unlikely candidate for Fiorentina fandom interrupting his sojourn in Bombay. He is a man of charm and polish, as you might expect, and his English is excellent. He is candid about buying a football team to speak to young people, especially young men. "What did you see in that club you bought in 2002?" I asked; at the time, of course, Fiorentina was a club with everything to recommend it except actual functionality. He said to me, "Well, what do you see in them now?" I said I thought they played very good football. He talked then of how a football club reached out to young men, an explanation that combined the finer points of branding with a kindly and conservative didacticism. It is valid for the della Valles to talk about negotiating values and - well, even morals, really, with a crowd whose peaceful and romantic enthusiasm has been encouraged in part by the brothers' ultimatums that they will take their cash and leave at the first hint of bad behaviour. There is a demonstrable point here about the interaction of several institutions - the controlling interest of a business, the emotional and moral investment of a family, the power of a crowd, and, although it rarely comes up in conversations specific to Fiorentina now, the function of the state apparatus in the form of laws and law enforcement - in creating a good environment for the club. There is an immediate short-term benefit to corporate involvement in football, well-documented in the Premier League as well as in Italy - I'm thinking of accounts of the crackdown on racism and anti-Semitism in the San Siro in the late eighties after Berlusconi took over Milan - and talking to DDV has brought the point home again*.

I enthused further about the culture of the stadium, and how I gathered it was setting standards nationally. He said yes, UEFA were fans, as was Michel Platini. At this point I exhibited extreme callowness by laughing and saying I thought this was funny because Platini used to be a Juventus player. He also laughed and said it was cool [not his exact words] because the two clubs were friends now. I said OKAYYYY THEN, but softly, in my brain.

My favourite moment in the whole thing came at this point, when Eva interjected and asked him if he had any one dream buy for the team [we had just been talking about fancy shoes, the theme carried over]. He said 'no, I think we have what we need,' in a manner that left the imagination to supply the flourish of the cigar and the saucy smoke ring at the end of the sentence. That was cool.

Asking for an autograph would have been the wrong thing to do, since I was tagging along to a professional meeting, but I hope I shan't regret not taking one. Somewhere in the known universe a digital photograph of us exists; until it wings its way into my inbox, however, I can offer no tangible proof of our meeting. Eva's interview with him, very much a focus on his life's work with Tod's and a freewheeling conversation on style, luxury and economics, should probably be out in December - I'll post a link when it's done.

I wore my Viola jersey with a black pencil skirt and yellow ballet pumps. I am learning that one of the upsides of representing a fashion magazine is that you are forced to think about academic questions of costume and style at a level deeper than 'Can I go another week without washing these jeans?'

* Is there an applicable/sustainable 'Fiorentina model' here? I don't think so - the club, the city and the della Valles are in a fairly unique position. But I think it is a great example of how several cogs in the wheel have been pulled into working well together, and at least in the short term, the club has avoided the most visible problems that accompany a vibrant fan culture and sensible economics. Of course, none of this would have been possible without the success of the football team itself. Long may that continue.

More soon.

inzaghis to the left

Picture* courtesy the latest installment of my usually merch-pushing Milan newsletter, which today, instead of peddling 'Rossoneri Underwear' or 'Sleep with the devils' [bed linen, not the negotiable affection of Alessandro Nesta] announced a 'Goal By Goal' programme, whose substance is that Nutrilite will donate 10K dollars to the Milan Foundation every time Ronaldinho scores a goal. No pressure there from sick needy kids, Ronnie. And why yes, that IS once-crocked, now 100% scoring record-wallah Pippo Inzaghi, who scored (again) (this season) (that's two goals in two games) (OMG YAY!) last night against Heerenveen, who, surprisingly, turned out not to shock Milan.

No particular angst over the Beckham-to-Milan plans. This is the team of Ibrahim Ba, Digao and, what's his name, Silvio Berlusconi. More importantly, this is still the team that racks up bizarre losses every other weekend to small teams that fight hard. My mellow is not being harshed by the free transfer of a hard-working winger (neither of which attributes Milan is known for) who's not going to get much attention in Italy. Cease to persuade me, my loving Proteus - unless it is with points.

Okay. I may have some Fiorentina-related news. It involves yellow ballet pumps. Please stay tuned.

* - eta: Blogger cut my macro off. There is a very real small child at the end of it, please click and observe for yourselves.

serious question.

What are Roma's chances of playing a Champions' League final in their own stadium at the end of this season?

[My hopeful take: slim.]

i like to walk alone

Oops. Clearly my blog/life balance has gone out of whack, much like Andrea Pirlo's thigh muscle. I'm really happy about gainful employment, but it has taken the focus off custodiating the custodiators at The Guardian, among other things. I'll be back. In the meanwhile, have one of my favourite photos.



The collars, as you might have guessed, are what affect me most deeply.

I've been keeping reading records @ my microblog, but not much else lately. I hope everyone reading this is well, and that footie blogging will see a sharp spike the world over very shortly.

i say it for lionel messi

I say it for Andrea Pirlo. I say it for the Olympics. I say it for the Euros. I say it for the World Cup and the Copa America.

I say it for the fans. I say it for the stadiums. I say it for Tottenham Hotspur. I say it for Daniele de Rossi. I say it for America. I say it for the Asian market. I say it for first teams. I say it for trainers. I say it for superhero pictures. I say it for cricket.

Ban the pre-season friendly.

Ban it now.

there's too much panic in this town

+ Life, like football, has the tendency to amaze sometimes. I am no longer sick. I am apparently no longer unemployed. And I seem to have started to care about Ronaldinho. I mean, huh. Thanks here to Ursus, who offered to mail me 'dinho merchandise straight from the mothership, but I find I am in the happy position of being able to refuse for perfectly practical reasons. I do not buy original football merchandise from any of the European Club Association boys, and the 'dinho fakes are going to be flooding our streets like the late July rains in a matter of months, it is to be hoped. I will have my synthetic winter-wear Milan #80, should I so choose, with little to no trouble to me or to the very kind Ursus. Life in Bombay would be difficult indeed for one who wanted a Digao jersey, but luckily, I am not that one.

+ My greatest contact with football remains the Football Italia page, since I am incapable of swearing off all trashy football gossip. It's nice to see Jose Mourinho settling in, even if his storied recalcitrance seems to be rubbing off on the neighbours in strange, unexpected ways. I'm a little cheesed off at the lack of Beppe Baresi in the Inter training pictures, but I hope there will be some soon. The Baresi Brothers webcomic that Martha and I plan to produce might have to be post-art and blank panels if this continues.

+ Thank goodness I can't watch the cricket. ;__;

+ I have been studying old photos of Juventus lately, thanks to my friend Neko. They were a frighteningly attractive-looking bunch. I'm not sure if Antonio Cabrini does or does not remind me of Ashton Kutcher. I know the leavening in that loaf is that Cabrini was largely excellent at his job, while Kutcher is not [please don't argue, you speak to a woman who has seen Just Married twice]. Perhaps this time when I say I'll make that post on vintage kit, I will.

+ And sometime guest-blogger and cycling expert Sofie is now available full-time on her spanking new blog de foot, viz. football and the city.

+ No, seriously. I have a job and everything now. I know, I can't believe it either.

shaking off the chains

It is almost a month since my last appearance in this part of the Internet - disease and unemployment have kept my nose at other grindstones, alas, and I have been amusing myself with reading things other than the sports pages ever since Euro 2008 ended; I refuse to concern myself with transfers. I was struck down by a hideous monsoon virus just when Marcello Lippi took over Italy, which meant I had no chance to collect my thoughts and feelings of vague resentment about this development. I was unable to express my love for Iker Casillas on the night of Spain's victory in the Euros. I had no way to persuade you of how little the fate of Ronaldinho matters to me. I could still express my rage at the debate over 'modern slavery' raging about the frosted hair of Cristiano Ronaldo, but let's consider it said, since James Lawton has already taken the opportunity to be self-righteous about it somewhere in the pages of The Independent. But I hope to return presently, with musings on vintage Juventus kits, and the thrills of the UEFA Cup.

How about that Ajantha Mendis, anyway?