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Showing posts with the label Hernández (Xavi)

R.I.P. Dick, pt. 2; body-text fonts, pt. 16: Calisto; a Father’s Day joke

The Cornell Chronicle has published the best overview so far of Dick’s life and career. I especially like what it says about Dick’s contribution to the philosophy of science, and I like the reminiscences of Cornell PhDs Koltonski and Jezzi.

I also like the word “reminiscences.”

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The screenshot of this month’s body-text font has been chosen with Dick in mind. The passage is not a quotation from one of Dick’s books or articles. Rather, it showcases his patience. It’s the most self-indulgent footnote in the dissertation I wrote for him, which I set in Calisto.


Dick’s comment: What is tackling?

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Happy Father’s Day.

R.I.P. Diego Maradona

… arguably the greatest soccer player. A “great man,” I heard one commentator say. I wouldn’t go that far, but, clearly, very few players have been as naturally gifted as Maradona.

In terms of natural talent, who else is in his class? Puskás? Pelé? Probably. But I know them mostly by reputation. Maradona himself admired Mágico González.

Among those I’ve watched in real time, the two players who stand with Maradona are Ronaldo Nazário de Lima and Lionel Messi. Zinedine Zidane and Ronaldinho Gaúcho, I relegate to the next tier – far, far beneath the others.

It’s also worth mentioning that Romário and N’Golo Kanté have displayed genius in their circumscribed roles. (Kanté works hard, yes, but with an instinctive clarity.)

What, then of such a determinant player as Xavi Hernández – or Johan Cruyff, perhaps the greatest soccer figure of all time (for what he did in management as well as on the field)? They were obsessives, constantly working, constantly scheming to improve. Were they naturally gifted? Surely. But their place on the podium of naturalness is hard to ascertain. The natural ability of Andrés Iniesta is more apparent than that of Xavi. (Iniesta is less conspicuous than Ronaldinho or Zidane, but he might be in their class.)

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Maradona’s other distinction, besides the naturalness of his talent, is the role he played as the “conduit” of his teams’ successes. His teammates floundered badly when he was absent. This was true at the club level and at the 1994 World Cup. The same has happened again and again with Messi. (Cruyff and Xavi also were “conduits” through which play flowed, but, when they left, their teammates were not without recourse.)

Unlike the other forementioned players, Maradona and Messi have inspired cult-like devotion among their teams’ supporters – and in an entire nation. Maradona encouraged this sacrilege; Messi, as far as I can tell, has been indifferent to adulation (though, in other respects, he’s hardly been faultless). In such cases as theirs, talent rather than personality is what has inspired devotion. Fans and teammates will tether themselves even to such a wastrel as Neymar, who is gifted but ultimately rudderless.

One achievement of Maradona’s was that, for nearly two decades, he overcame the idolatry and dependency of his worshipers forcefully enough to deliver the goods.

Trash-talking

The Champions League final will be played in two days.

Vicente del Bosque, who has won the Champions League as the coach of Real Madrid, as well as the World Cup and the Euros as the coach of Spain, believes that Real Madrid will handily defeat Liverpool. He doesn’t think there’s “even one Liverpool player who would improve Madrid, not even [Mohamed] Salah” (the quotation is from this article).

Actually, right now, Salah is better than any of Madrid’s forwards, but del Bosque has an excellent point. Player for player, Real Madrid is overwhelmingly the better team.

Then again, that is why Liverpool employs the “storming” tactic (see two entries ago). It allows a team to have a good chance, head-to-head, against an opponent whose players are more skillful. Already this year, it has allowed Liverpool to thrash Manchester City.

In other news, the legendary Xavi, formerly of Barcelona, offers this amusing analysis of Real Madrid’s defensive midfielder, Casemiro:

“Madrid break apart, seven players attack and Casemiro stays back on his own to cover the centre.”

Pretty impressive, right? Covering the center all alone? Not impressive enough for Xavi:

“He does not dominate space-time.”

Whoa. That’s a tall order. I’m not even sure if I dominate space-time.

I predict that the score will be Real Madrid 3, Liverpool 1. But I want Liverpool to win, and I think that that could very well happen.

On how I begin to write in the morning

My dissertation has taken a tedious turn. I’ve been trawling for mentions of the term ‘reasonable’ among the obscure speeches and declarations of King James II, as well as in the debate on religious toleration between John Locke and Jonas Proast. And not only in those sources: also in legal dictionaries, and in Merriam-Webster.

Soon – I dread this – I really ought to check the OED.

I wonder if it was a good idea to try to detail the pre-Rawlsian history of this moral concept. Then I remember my supervisor’s advice. “Pages,” he would say. “You need a certain quantity of pages.”

Consequently, a long footnote about Xabi Alonso, Xavi Hernández, N’Golo Kanté, and Claude Makélélé has remained in the dissertation for several months. I can’t bring myself to take it out.

The other day, I ate lunch with my old pastor, and he expressed confidence that, whatever I turn in, it’ll be of superb quality. I didn’t tell him about that footnote.

What helps me to start writing every day is this. Online, I’ve found the dissertations of many of my acquaintances. I pull them out and read a few lines. Then I read a passage of my own dissertation. My own writing unfailingly is less erroneous, less trivial, less clunky, and funnier. I decide it’s quite good, relatively speaking. And so I write all day long, except when tutees interrupt me.

News

Snowed In until this afternoon all day. I write blog posts on days we’re Snowed In because, other days, I’m too tired.

New gf: Karin, my church friend. Monday was our one-week anniversary. I spent Valentine’s at her mother’s house so that I could be interrogated.

This is my first gf since 2008, when Xavi was in his prime.