Football’s Forbidden Fruit: Less Is More.
On August 25th, 2023, I published a piece called ‘Made In A Lab: The Social Experiment Of Flies In Football Fields’. It might not been my best-written piece, but it helped readers discover the relevant topic of over-scheduling and football injuries. After a year — full of events, both in football and my personal life — today, I write a follow-up, on the evolution of matters since.
Not only did football not see a decrease in matches/season, it has become worse. The SuperLeague project rings a bell to most fanatics — a failed attempt, orchestrated by many top clubs (Real Madrid, Barcelona, and Juventus, to name a few). Despite two announcements, the project never came to the day — it even gathered fans together to protest against this idea. This didn’t come out of the blue, as it was a clear warning to UEFA: if they weren’t to give in to the demands of the big clubs, they would be ready to break away from the traditional models and do their league. As much as UEFA claimed it was against all its principles, the 2024/2025 Champions League Season starts with an ‘update’ — format changes, which now look similar to the Superleague project.
If there is anything anyone should learn from it, is that UEFA didn’t protect the interest of the viewer by opposing the SuperLeague project. What mattered was that the Holy Grail Of Football could stay in the hands of the institution — that was the true dispute. Many voices in football, including myself, opposed the SuperLeague project because of the many games it adds to the traditional format. FIFPRO, the players’ Trade Union, warned against it for five years. Players like Bernardo Silva also talked to themedia about it. Managers agreed with that statement, having often lost their most important players to such injuries.
Have you ever heard the saying ‘Less Is More’?
Less Is More describes the idea of quality > quantity. Less content, less materials, but better memories, worthier times. This saying never felt truer in football. I’m undoubtedly biased, as we all are nostalgic оf our childhood, but football felt great. There are so many games nowadays, that I don’t know where to start.
The intoxication of information is a phenomenon that plagues our surroundings — virtual surroundings, I should say. It describes the idea that information might be good, but too much information isn’t. Just like anything — a toxic relationship with an excess of information leads to the worst of both worlds. There is so much football there isn’t any time left to digest.
We’re eating our lunch at 2 PM, and at 4 PM we start to eat dinner. Where’s the time to digest? We’re half-munching through the matches, many of us who have become obese (figuratively, and literally!), for what? Most of the readers started watching football because they enjoyed it. Nowadays, many of us watch out of guilt — as if group pressure forced us to do it, without ever existing. The addition of new competitions, such as the Conference League (which, by the way, has become an absolute success), won’t allow any of us to rest. The average fan might keep selecting matches to watch with the filter being his team, but for those who want to watch different teams — an overdose of football is the prescription.
— Isn’t that what you wanted?
— No, not really.
It seemed as if we wanted more football. It seemed perfect. Who doesn’t like pizza, some beer, and football? In the weekend setting, it seems perfect. But what happens when it becomes a daily thing? It becomes toxic. It’s too much. I can’t.
Even if I tried to enjoy it, I wouldn’t be able to. Footballers have become younger — for fuck’s sake, Lamine Yamal isn’t an adult yet and he’s a European Champions with over fifty games to his name. It seems great. The club takes the youngsters to new heights. At the same time, it’s f*cking appalling. I can’t enjoy two weeks of football without one of my favourite players being sent to toast in football’s butchers. I cannot enjoy their dribbles, knowing that they might never recover from it. This is the story of many Barcelona fans — but they aren’t alone. Across the continent, (younger) players are now more likely to be injured than ever. What’s done to protect them? Absolutely nothing, up they go to the tactical trenches of the game. Once they can stand on one leg again, they’re sent to the butchers again.
— Is this what football was supposed to be? Is that all there is to football?
— It was better. I know it was. But I also know it’s never coming back.
As much as I’ve complained, there’s worse news. It’s not coming back, and the faster you accept it, the faster you’ll heal. We live in a society that functions through consumption. Consume. Consume. Consume ‘till your grave. This newsletter might have a vanity/melancholic tone to it, and for good reason. This is the author’s soul crying out, with fingers full of blood. Not because I have blood on my hands, but because my soul has been thirsty — instead of water, I was given the blood of the injured players that played for my pleasure: a guilty pleasure, a true Renaissance of Rome’s Gladiators.
Less is More. Less Football was better, not because of the nostalgic tone to it, but because increased fixtures, independently of the quality of the football, decreased the felt enjoyment. As if I kept scrolling through programs: I can’t choose, because, through the illusions of choice, I’m lost in an ocean of questions and doubts. It seemed better when I knew what to be excited for — I’m lost in consumerism, I’m lost in an ocean of ideas, and fixtures, and I remain a lost individual reciting the schedule.
Yes, there’s more football. But at what price? How does one make sense of a world where my education told me to look for quality instead of quantity, but the Real Word showed me the opposite? Where Quantity reigns. As if it didn’t matter. I don’t know whether it does — but off I am to watch the next match.
