As QPR bid farewell to Djibril Cisse, albeit only on loan, Roller assesses the French striker's transition from instant hero to one of this season's villains and, arguably, scapegoat.
Throughout the whole of our recent match against Fulham a fellow QPR supporter a few seats away from me was meting out horrific abuse towards Djibril Cissé. Nothing the Frenchman did was right. Leaving out some of the more colourful words he was apprently lazy, selfish, closing down the wrong man, not passing when he should, making the wrong pass when he did, not shooting when he should, shooting when he shouldn't, and "worse than Shaun Wright-Phillips".
Even his sumptuous curling shot that just went wide of the post and his stooping header that produced a magnificent save from Mark Schwarzer were rubbished. Thank God there was no way that Cissé could have heard him. However, I bet that just a few months ago that very same supporter was singing “Ole, ole, ole, ole, Cissé, Cissé” with the rest of us. Cissé’s transition from hero to villain has been breathtaking.
That gentleman will undoubtedly be pleased that Cissé has now left us to ply his trade in fresh pastures following a half-season loan deal with Qatari side Al-Gharafa, whereas I am very disappointed that Redknapp could not reinvigorate last season’s goal scoring hero. Djibril Cissé may be the most world renowned player ever to wear our blue and white hoops and whether the failure to build on last season’s blistering form is his fault or Mark Hughes’ fault we will never know, but I’m sure that the abuse he received from his own supporters will have hastened his demise. When the news of his departure was announced the internet forums went into overdrive, some lamenting what should have been, many just glad to bid Cissé good riddance. What a way to treat a former hero, but then heroes aren’t what they used to be.
The human race has always sought heroes: someone to admire, someone to strive to emulate. The heroes of the Greeks were noble characters, either of royal birth or half mortal-half god. They performed great deeds far beyond the capabilities on the average man and were generally mighty warriors who brought glory to the empire or performed unbelievable quests against insurmountable odds. As the centuries passed the criteria required to be heralded as a hero eased. In the middle ages the heroes were knights, their birthright unimportant, their perceived adherence to the rules of chivalry paramount. The Renaissance broadened the scope further, an understanding of human nature and beauty surpassed the necessity for physical prowess. The modern day age of celebrity has diluted the criteria to an all time low. Talentless wannabes who appear on “reality” television programmes, singers that clearly have no voice and brainless bimbos who are prepared to take off their cloths for public titillation are presented to us as icons. Unfortunately we get what we deserve. And then there are footballers.
With the bar at an all time low, even the most morally vacuous can qualify as heroes. Chelsea ’s “Captain, Leader, Legend” is an obvious case in point. John Terry’s wholehearted and determined displays have secured his place in his club’s folklore whereas the rest of the world can see him in a totally different light. Many supporters are willing to turn a blind eye to the past and present misdemeanours of players on the books of their own club. Players such as Luis Suarez, Marlon King, El Hadji Diouf and our own Joey Barton have all benefited from this suspension of principles and enjoyed the adulation of people who would be appalled by their actions if they were taken by men not involved with their football club.
At the other end of the spectrum is the historical counterpoint to the hero: the villain. This term has almost a comic book feel about it these days and seems more befitting fictional characters, whether they are historical such as Grendel’s Mother in Beowulf, Bill Sikes from Oliver Twist or Sherlock Holmes’ Professor Moriarty or modern day like Lord Voldemort from the Harry Potter stories. Today’s celebrity obsessed culture has also given birth to a number of its own “pantomime” villains such as Simon Cowell, whose only crime, as I see it, it to tell tone deaf wannabes that they can’t sing. He is a long way from Attila the Hun.
There are a couple of notable subsets within the villains category. Firstly there are our favourite villains: players we love to hate, players like Grant Holt and Frank Lampard. The continual abuse aimed at Holt hides a sneaky admiration for a man who has managed to fight his way to the top level of football in this country without ever looking like a footballer, although our fury at his ability to get our defenders sent off is genuine enough. As for Fat Frank, the acceptable face of Chelsea, if he played for anyone else he would get treated with the respect he deserves, but as he is synonymous with all of Chelsea’s recent success he has to suffer all that he Loftus Road faithful throw at him, although I suspect the he actually secretly enjoys it.
The second subset of villains is an area that we, as football supporters, really excel at; scapegoats. I sincerely doubt if QPR supporters are any worse than those at any other club, but we always have at least one player who can do no right. Without a scapegoat to blame for the teams’ deficiencies we would have to recognise the collective failures of our heroes, it is much safer to hold one unloved individual responsible. Currently Ji-Sung Park has seamlessly stepped into this role with his return to first team action coinciding with Jose Bosingwa's banishment following his refusal to take his place on the substitutes bench against Fulham. While many players have worn this uncomfortable crown over the years, few have had to endure the abuse that Paul Furlong suffered after he signed for QPR and even fewer have managed to emerge from the confidence sapping experience as a hero in the way that Furlong did.
Because the hero bar is now set so low the grey area between brilliant and appalling has narrowed to the smallest degree. One man’s hero is another man’s villain and no one current player polarises opinion in quite the way that Adel Taarabt does. Many love him for his creativity and the excitement that is part and parcel of his game, others focus on the wastefulness and historically poor temperament. In one move he can thrill and disappoint proving both heavily entrenched camps right. Just for the record, I’m a big Taarabt fan, as I walk down the Uxbridge Road it is him that I’m impatiently looking forward to seeing and him that I’m pining my hopes on.
A secondary effect of the hero bar being so low is the ease with which we re-categorise our heroes as villains; Djibril Cissé being a perfect example. How quickly so many forgot his goal scoring exploits at the end of last season that did so much to keep us in the Premier League. Another who received criticism towards the end of his time at QPR in certain quarters, and completely unwarranted in my opinion, was Lee Cook. His well documented battles with injury cost him so much of his latter day career at Loftus Road and some started to treat him with contempt, his magnanimous gesture in donating the signing on fee he was due from Fulham back to our club in our days of desperate need cast from their memories. Ryan Nelsen was also on the receiving end of the capricious nature of many supporters recently when he was announced as the new manager of Toronto FC. We were all disappointed but some of the vitriol aimed towards him online was incredible when the previous week he was a shoo-in for player of the year. The fickleness of some supporters is astounding.
We choose our life heroes based on our principles such as honesty, courage or integrity; generally qualities that we admire and would like to have others recognise in us. Our football heroes are definitely not selected by the same exacting criteria. We all know that the vast majority are not good role models and very few are worthy of our adoration but still we exalt some and castigate others. I believe that we need to see that they have skills that benefit our club, or an obvious determination to succeed or a perceived passion for our club. Three of the more popular players currently at our club illustrate these criteria perfectly, namely Adel Taarabt, Jamie Mackie and Clint Hill. Each of these players have very obvious faults, but all are generally forgiven as their redeeming features outweigh these.
Our desire to have champions and heroes is as alive as ever. We honour them in song just as our ancient ancestors retold stories of theirs before going into battle, we taunt our opponents just as our predecessors mocked theirs. Even turning on one of your own is not a modern day phenomenon, the Greeks used to cast out an unfortunate member of their community to try to appease the Gods after a natural disaster. Our needs have not changed in the last 2,000 years and neither has our blind following of our instincts.
Songs such as “Taarabt’s too good for you” and “Walking in a Mackie wonderland” are sung not only as a response to a piece of skill by the named player but as encouragement for them to do more. Akos Buzsaky said in an interview that he loved hearing his song and that it always gave him a lift, therefore constantly groaning when Shaun Wright-Phillips falls over or gives the ball away or when Ji-sung Park fails to make a tackle must surely have the opposite effect. If either of those players ever ventured onto our forums they would probably never leave their homes again. The club’s current predicament demands that we support every single one of our players, we need them all to perform every match. When the home fans finally began to support Paul Furlong his confidence grew and he started performing, maybe if we stopped berating certain players and encouraged them instead we would be rewarded with better performances. What have we got to lose?
I’ve done more than my share of moaning and groaning, I’m certainly not claiming any moral high ground here. Earlier this season I was very critical of the performances of Nedum Onuoha and developed a blind spot in regard to him. I was amazed to see him play superbly against Spurs last weekend and now have high hopes for him. In the weeks ahead, with our support, maybe other players will surprise us. Perhaps Ji-Sung Park will become the player that many hoped for when Hughes signed him. Perhaps Shaun Wright-Phillips will become our new hero. Just as it can be a useful exercise to remember who our heroes are and why we hold them in such high esteem, it can be equally useful to stop and think about why we are so unforgiving of other players.
I wrote at the beginning of January about my first football hero, Terry Venables. A man who not only got me hooked on QPR but created an atmosphere of excitement and fun in his time at Loftus Road . As I have got older and more cynical, few have filled Venables’ boots and as much as I try to avoid having heroes anymore, it is inevitable to like some players more than others. Maybe we should leave the heroes and villains to the storytellers, film makers and pages of comic books and accept people for what they are.
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Pictures – Action Images