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By JAMES CURTIS How happy Cesc Fabregas looked on Monday, juggling a football with his knees during a light warm-up session among his team-mates. It was all fun and games in the Spanish camp and the cameras caught it nicely: Cesc was cheerful. He had a tan. This is where he wanted to be. The Barcelona players were making it as overly pleasant as possible. And it wouldn’t have surprised me if Xavi was behind the camera choreographing the finicky picture. While Gerard Pique calls for “take two, people”, an unsuspecting Fabregas wanders into frame.
The whispers on Cesc’s left shoulder inform him about the greatness that awaits him at Barcelona, as the righteous French voice on his right shoulder struggles to be properly heard. Fabregas is hearing Arsene Wenger, but he isn’t listening. It’s beginning to look a lot like the film 300 when Ephialtes is lead astray by The Persians with promises of women and riches. If Fabregas makes the switch to Barcelona, something tells me he will have made a similar blunder.
As the saga continues I fear for Cesc. The words of his Barcelona friends are becoming increasingly see-through, those of people who don’t necessarily have his best interests in mind. They appear to care but they don’t, because if they did they might say things like: “Cesc is intelligent and only he knows what is best for him.” All the while, Xavi, Pique and Carles Puyol say they don’t want to speculate on his future and it wouldn’t be right to do so, yet in the same sentence persist on talking about how great it would be to have Fabregas back in Catalonia.
At Barcelona it’s election season, and in the hunt to succeed Joan Laporta as club president are Sandro Rosell and Alfons Godall. Barcelona fans boast, and are proud of their club for its democratic ways, but all the while they vote for people who would lie through their teeth to get elected. Laporta promised he would take David Beckham to the club upon arrival. Indeed he made post although Goldenballs joined rivals Real Madrid instead.
For their players then, pantomime comes as second nature. After filmmaking school, Barcelona’s footballing cast attend a media propaganda course, and top of the class this season was Xavi who made Cesc Fabregas his senior year project. Having once held a soft spot for Barcelona, they are now becoming increasingly domineering. When Thierry Henry won the Champions League there I was happy for him. Pep Guardiola is a likeable guy. Really though, Laporta and his confederacy sit at the other end pulling their puppet strings and making smiley faces.
We have reached the point where Cesc’s name has been dragged through the mud. Barcelona want him but won’t pay the right amount. Cesc only turned 23-years-old this month and carries with him plenty of real estate for the future, so why do Barcelona undervalue him so much given the ludicrous sums thrown at less gifted players? Because of this, I fear for Cesc that if he leaves for Barcelona this summer it might not turn out to be how he envisioned.
Before long though Cesc will have read the Basque admission manuscript and shall probably begin using the same sly tricks. Already I see it working its medicine after his latest meeting with Wenger. “It was probably the greatest conversation I have had with someone in my life,” he said. “I respect him so much. He told me to concentrate on my football and the World Cup and he will deal with whatever happens in my future.”
Are the fans supposed to feel sorry for him, because he is chained to a contract worth millions that seems to be making his life a burden? No, the only sad face should be on the millions of Arsenal fans who probably feel pressured into giving Cesc a gratified send-off for his remarkable efforts while wearing the shirt. So often the supporters wave goodbye, say thanks and good luck, before said superstar drives off into the sunset, leaving behind the pollution of London and the dry blood of English football’s battleground.
Ok, I suppose that cozen pushover will be me again, eating duck soup while our captain splashes around in Barcelona’s giant communal bath. This time however, the reason for my blessings will be that things turn out well for Cesc. My advice for him though? Just remember to pack a long scrubbing brush, because those who might be massaging his every need now might not be there to scratch his back in the future.
Camera rolling … Arsenal attempt to win some more silverware, take six!
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