Tommy Martin: Club World Cup? Even if the players didn't need a break, we certainly do

Irish Examiner

11 hours ago

Bloody hell, football, give us a break.
This is, after all, possibly one of the greatest weeks of sport-that-is-not-football in history. It is the week of a properly historic All-Ireland hurling final, the first ever between Cork and Tipperary. What a wonderful thing!
On Saturday it's the Lions first test against the Wallabies — THE LIONS! GRRR! TRADITION! PASSION! HEDGE FUNDS! Yes, it is a Leinster & District XV according to some, but still, come on — THE LIONS!
You have The Open back on Irish soil at Royal Portrush. Northern Ireland welcomes Rory, Shane, Scottie, Bryson and all the lads, though thankfully not with one of its famous bonfires.
There's Wimbledon to digest, and the All-Ireland football semi-finals and Katie Taylor winning her headline trilogy fight with Amanda Serrano at Madison Square Garden. An epic conclusion to the cricket test between England and India at Lord's.
An Irishman in the yellow jersey in the Tour de France for God's sake!
And still, football barges its way in. I mean, come on: Donald Trump doing a David May while Chelsea captain Reece James lifts the FIFA Club World Cup trophy — which looks like a cross between a precision astronomical instrument and Liberace's bedside lamp — and Cole Palmer staring balefully at the world's most powerful man as if he has skipped him in the queue for a sausage roll at the deli counter. Just out of shot, FIFA president Gianni Infantino is beckoning Trump to get off stage like a mithered teacher trying to direct a preschool Nativity play.
As tableaux go, it's a modern Caravaggio. It's as if someone asked ChatGPT to create an image that summed up our mad old world. Even in such a momentous week in sport-that-is-not-football, here comes football, pulling focus, like a spoiled child demanding parental attention by doing a poop in the middle of the kitchen floor.
Not that I actually saw it live, mind you. I managed to not watch pretty much the whole FIFA Club World Cup, due to a host of complex reasons, but mainly down to being too lazy to figure out how to put it on my TV.
I guess that DAZN, the streamer that broadcast the tournament, is in there somewhere. I'm pretty sure I watched a Katie Taylor fight on it one time. And all I would have to do is find the other remote and toggle on to the homescreen and then find the app and possibly remember a password to log in and away we'd go.
But sorry Gianni, I know the tournament was 'the most successful club competition in the world' and marked the beginning of 'the golden era of club football' — according to, well, you — but what can I say, I decided to sit this one out. And yet, here it is, barging its way front and centre in the midsummer sporting agenda, elbowing top golfers and beefy British and Irish Lions out of the way in all its silly, gaudy, attention-seeking glory.
Yes football, we see you, we hear you, but mummy is busy right now, ok darling?
Lamine Yamal. File picture: Emilio Morenatti/AP
Actually, hold that thought. For arresting football-related images — possibly quite literally — we switch to Lamine Yamal's 18th birthday party, which has gotten the Barcelona star in hot water over reports that he hired a troupe of people with dwarfism to provide the entertainment.
Spain's Ministry of Social Rights has asked the state prosecutor to investigate after the Spanish Association of People with Achondroplasia and Other Skeletal Dyplasias (ADEE) filed a complaint, describing the incident as 'unacceptable in the 21st century'.
To add to the whole Wolf of Wall Street vibe, it was reported that a Spanish model claimed she was approached to attend the party and recruit 12 other women to join her, as long as they had a specific breast size and blonde hair, with each woman allegedly to be paid €17,500 for their trouble.
Obviously, Yamal is an idiot, but then most kids his age are and especially if you hand them millions and millions to spend at their whim. In my experience, if you give a teenager any amount of money they will spend it unwisely. From cans of Monster and fruity vapes, it's a short hop to dancing dwarves and busty blondes.
To be honest, the whole thing is actually an advertisement for the FIFA Club World Cup, in a devil making work for idle hands kind of way. Had Barcelona been busy traipsing around the USA trying to play football in face-melting heat, then Yamal would never have had time to reach the dubious section of the party planner's catalogue.
As it is, he's gone from Ballon D'Or-chasing boy wonder to modern day Caligula just by being given some time off. Player burnout be damned, Gianni was right — keep flogging 'em, it's for their own good.
Of course, both stories kind of illustrate why we need a break from football. At this level, in its modern form, it really is too much. It's such a pungent stew of ego and money and geopolitics and celebrity and utter nonsense, all filtered through the brainrot freeway of the social media driven news cycle, that not to give your jaded cranium a little two-month summer rest can't be good for you.
You don't even have to take a full break from football. International tournaments like the women's Euros and League of Ireland are permitted in this metaphorical mind detox. They are hearty and full of fibre and crucially are not things that Fabrizio Romano is interested in telling you about.
In truth, this is probably why most of us decided not to figure out how to watch the FIFA Club World Cup (which, to be fair, aside from half-empty stadiums, terrifying prevailing weather conditions and that awful Robbie Williams song, most observers accept wasn't too bad, given how it threw up a few decent storylines and shared the love beyond club football's European power base a bit).
Yes, we echoed the concerns of bodies like FIFPRO about exploitation of players, acknowledged how the tournament was a conduit for Saudi Arabia to further spread its tentacles of influence, recognised Infantino for the nabob of narcissism that he is, and recoiled at the incessant sucking up to the White House.
But it wasn't our principles — mostly we just needed a break. For our own good. It's only four weeks till the Premier League and eight weeks till most of the same teams that were in the Club World Cup go again in the Champions League. We can do this. And in case you haven't heard, there's some decent sport-that-is-not-football on to see us through.