Though he once had a strong and guiding hand in both my country's failure to qualify for Euro 2004, and my club's exit from the Champion's League, I've never had anything but the warmest of affection for Switzerland's Hakan Yakin (and his enjoyable name). Not only has he always struck me as a player of guile and intelligence (though one cursed with apparent inconsistency), his demeanour (or as much of it as I've observed) also suggests a decent and likeable chap.
It's no doubt fairly absurd for us armchair fans to make snap judgments about a particular player's personality based on little other than "body language", but we do it constantly nevertheless. We don't know these characters, and we (almost certainly) never will. All we can do is sift through the accumulated visual and auditory clues before making a call - nice quiet guy; self-important tosser; player of integrity; rich & spoiled moron etc, etc.
Based on this most imprecise of sciences, my "reading" of Yakin has always led to him being awarded "two thumbs up" in the "seems like a nice fella" stakes.1 Some extra credence was (last night) lent to this judgement by his commendably understated and dignified "celebration" after scoring Switzerland's opener.
Not only did he "do a Podolski" and choose not to be too fulsome in his joy (playing, as he was, against the country of his parents' birth), but his "calm down" hand gesture also helped defuse a potentially volatile situation (the last time these two nations met the game ended in violence and chaos). A touching moment.
Proving, however, that the gods have an odd way of rewarding virtuous behaviour, Yakin's next big moment was the stuff of tragic farce. In a virtual retread of he goal, though with radically less successful results, Valon Behrami smashed the sodden ball across the 6-yard box where Yakin, from point-blank range, managed (inexplicably) to side-foot it wide. Drenched and distraught, he cut a sorry figure.
In the Swiss dugout poor Jack Lemmon, I mean Kobi Kuhn, looked as if all the blood had drained from a face not too flushed with health and vigour to begin with. His transformation into The Simpson's Gil Gunderson was complete. Yakin, meanwhile, was left to reflect on happier (and drier) Ireland-smashing, Liverpool-destroying days.
- Though his Wikipedia entry seems to suggest otherwise - "He is considered by many fans to be a provocative player, known to have actively provoked opposition fans". [back]
1. He really is wonderfully named, isn’t he? Some commentators try to take all the fun out of it, by calling him Ha-kan Yak-een, despite the availability of the more enjoyable alternative, but the only way to go is “Hackin’ Yakkin’” (my ideal name for a chatshow about golf). The prudish insistence on “David Sea-man” is the, er, seminal example of such pronunciation no-funnery.
2. So that’s ol’ Gil’s surname!
June 12th, 2008 at 9:59 pmMuch as I despise golf, I might even find myself tuning in with interest to a thusly (or “thatly”?) named show. George Hamilton remains the standard bearer in terms of “exotic” name accuracy. He doesn’t do it because it’s fun, of course, but because he’s a strange little obsessive (and we love him for it).
Apparently. Kobi Kuhn seems to have studied even the most minor details of the Shelly Levine/Lemmon/Gill character in a bid to perfect the role. The loosened (post-work, drinking in a bar) tie, the hunched (beaten down) shoulders, the kindly face that shows the strain of tragically forced optimism etc.
June 12th, 2008 at 11:33 pmThe optimism, that’s what breaks your heart. Look at the expectant smile on his face in that pic. So sad, so very very sad.
June 13th, 2008 at 12:40 amWill catch up on events of the last 30 hours tomorrow morn. Pulsating stuff.
June 13th, 2008 at 11:31 pmIs it a bit previous to mention the Dutch?
Obviously, they’ll do their best to win their remaining match in the pool stage, even though they’re already through.
Furthermore, they’ll completely blank from their minds the fact that Italy and France are both eliminated if they lose to Romania.
June 14th, 2008 at 1:30 amDo I sense a slight dripping of sarcasm? If so, head over to today’s post, where I mention the various permutations, and flesh said sarcasm out. Italy is one of the spiritual homes of conspiracism, so expect plenty of paranoid weeping ‘n’ gnashing if the “unthinkable” happens.
June 14th, 2008 at 1:35 pm