Movers and Sheikhers

It's deadline day for transfers on both sides of the Channel. At PSG, Quatari billions are singeing the immaculately tailored pockets of Carlo Ancelotti and Sporting Director, Leonardo. A commitment to signing football's most celebrated mercenaries - beginning with Beckham and Tévez - has been thwarted. Who knew it would be so difficult to dispose of all that cash?

For inspiration, the Ligue 1 leaders could turn to Kenny Dalglish. Twelve months ago, Dalglish ruthlessly maximized the fee Liverpool paid Newcastle for Andy Carroll, thus trumpetting Liverpool's return to the highest echelon of European clubs. As news broke of Carroll's £35 million price-tag, pundits everywhere exclaimed in disbelief, 'Christ! Imagine what they'd fork out for a striker who actually scores goals.'

PSG are desperate to make a similar impact and Newcastle may be set to profit again. Ancelotti and Leonardo need to spend the kind of sum that makes headlines; they need to identify a player who plainly doesn't justify that sum; they need to make the offer to a money-mad owner who will immediately accept.

You read it here first: Shola Ameobi to PSG for €50 million.

Football in France is... Better!

Like Thierry Henry - wheezing, limping, in need of a shave - Football in France is Rubbish is back.

Last summer I left France and abandoned my interest in French football. Sod's law dictated that the 2011-2012 Championnat would be the most exciting since Chris Waddle's bleached blond mullet illuminated stadia in the early nineties.

I've tried to ignore Ligue 1. That was fairly straightforward before the British press took notice of PSG's billions, before Joe Cole moved to Lille on loan, before Beckham was linked with LVMH - sorry, I mean PSG.

So now football in France is better - better players, more drama - and I'm going to start writing about it again. Fickle? This is football, the simplest game on earth; requiring nothing more than a ball, jumpers for goalposts and fickle fans.

Not My Favourite Player

Claude Makelele, my favourite player? No chance. My favourite players are flawed fantasists, like Jari Litmanen or late Youri Djorkaeff (at Bolton, when he was half-lame). But, of course, fantasists always function best with the support of a "water-carrier". Without one such teammate, flawed fantasists are simply flawed. Zinedine Zidane was a fantasist whose grip on the reality of the game was cast iron - he relied on nobody, but he certainly benefited from the work of the "water-carriers" at Juventus and Madrid, and for France. At Juve, Deschamps, the player to whom the term was first assigned by a dismissive Eric Cantona; at Madrid, Makelele; one, then the other for France. Zidane knew better than Cantona. Zidane tried to reflect his glory back towards... towards the diminutive figure in the centre-circle.

In truth, Makelele was more than Deschamps. Deschamps introduced les Bleus to a culture of winning, which he had acquired in Turin. But he did not have Makelele's ubiquity, Makelele's apparent ability to draw the ball - as if magnetically - away from opponents. If Deschamps is to regarded as a "water-carrier", then Makelele at his best was a downpour, covering every inch of turf; nourishing every one of his teammates, making good teammates look great. Frank Lampard and John Terry became great players under José Mourinho - they owe almost as much to Makelele.

And now Makelele reaches the end of his career. Fans will miss him, though less than they would a flawed fantasist. PSG, however, will miss him terribly, just as Chelsea and Real Madrid continue to miss him. Makelele has indeed been a rare player. He has bent the sport to his will, or rather to suit his gifts and limitations. He has fulfilled his role with such expertise that he now defines it; Makelele has convinced the world that every team needs not a "water-carrier", but a "Makelele".

Makelele has always been an obvious, yet remarkable player. Obviously, yet remarkably, he remains by far the best "Makelele" we have seen.

Latest: DSK - Blanc

Fabien Barthez has rushed to defend his former France teammate Laurent Blanc:

'Laurent Blanc is not a racist. He does, however, enjoy dressing up as a chamber maid.'

Emmanuel Petit also backs Blanc:

'If - and I mean if - Laurent was in DSK's bedroom... I'm sure his intentions were innocent.'

News Flash

The DSK saga took a highly unexpected turn last night when it was alleged that the Guinean hotel maid who fell prey to Dirty Dom's advances was, in fact, a blacked-up Laurent Blanc. A New York-based sports news website claims to have received details of Blanc's involvement from an anonymous source, known only as Long Throw-in. The website, bigappleballs.com, published secretly captured footage of Blanc modelling a series of different pinafores as French football's top brass - including Fernand Duchaussoy and François Blaquart - looks on.

According to Long Throw-in, Blanc and his co-conspirators hatched their plan in a bid to manufacture a story big enough to eclipse the recent scandal regarding racial quotas for academy players in France. Calls for Blanc's resignation will be amplified if it can be proven that he channelled a comic tradition which even Ron Atkinson might deem "a bit much".

Hit refresh for minute by minute updates on this story.

Waiting for Gourcuff

An empty stadium. A football.

Evening.

Puel, sitting in the centre-circle, is trying to remove his football boot.

Enter Aulas.

Puel: Nothing to be won.

Aulas: You may have a point.

Puel: Not lately.

Aulas: Might I inquire how His Gaffership spent the last ninety minutes?

Puel: On a bench.

Aulas: Did they beat you?

Puel: Certainly they beat us. Four-nil.

Aulas: The same mediocre lot as usual?

Puel: Auxerre.

Aulas: When I think of all those seasons in the Champions League. We were respectable then.

Puel resumes battle with his football boot. Seeing this, Aulas removes his own boot and gives it to Puel.

Puel: It was only a matter of time.

For Further Consideration

Morgan Amalfitano

Kevin Gameiro is the razor sharp point of Lorient's attack, but it's Amalfitano who provides the thrust. The 26-year old frequently reigns over Ligue 1 matches from first minute to last. Premier League opponents would be rather less (sym)pathetic. Still, a player guaranteed to draw appreciative applause for his touch, vision and passing.

Gervinho

Moussa Sow is Ligue 1's top-scorer; Eden Hazard its brightest prospect. Arguably, however, the third member of Lille's fearsome attacking trio, Gervinho, has been the league leader's MVP this season. He's scored 14 goals and directly created nine. Quick and tricky, he can play as a right winger or up front. Lille paid just 6.5 million euros for Gervinho in 2009 - they'll expect double that should he be sold this summer.

The Case of the Missing Maestro

The toe of Puel's left shoe beat the floor. His hands were clasped together - each policing the other. Marlowe watched and waited for him to uncoil.

'He was a real good boy, real talented. Came to work for me six months ago. Soon as he arrived, I knew something was up - say, you got a drink?' Marlowe had anticipated the question. Five seconds later, Puel was necking Bourbon like it was going out of fashion. But when would Bourbon go out of fashion? Same day as gambling, whoring and a guy tearing hell out of his buddy over a broad.

'This kid had it all. The hacks called him the new Zidane for Christ's sake. Aulas - that's the boss - laid out twenty-five million for him. Gave him the fattest contract I ever saw - I mean crazy money.'

'So what happened?'

'What happened? Nothing happened. The boss wanted fireworks and he got a fifty cent lighter. The kid's lost it, his confidence, everything - and Aulas blames me.' The kilowatts of nervous energy had travelled from Puel's feet to his hands, which clung desperately to his skull. Marlowe wondered when Puel's hair had begun to fall out. Six months previous, he figured.

'What exactly do you want me to do, Mr Puel?'

Puel bit down on his bottom lip and slowly shook his head. Marlowe counted as the second hand of his watch marched past five, ten, fifteen... He had met a thousand guys like Puel. Pawns in someone else's chess game: Puel could go forward or back or maybe diagonally if he got lucky - at the expense of another lousy pawn.

'I want you to find out what's eating the kid. I want Aulas off my back.' Now desperate didn't come close.

'I'll help you, Mr Puel. I'll need all the information you have on the kid. First, his name.'

'Yoann Gourcuff.'

As a race row engulfs French football...

this advert appears in L'Equipe:

For Your Consideration

For summer bargains, Premiership clubs need look no further than Ligue 1.

Mamadou Sakho

Gargantuan PSG centre back who's tough, quick and has excellent positional sense. Brings an assurance to Kombouaré's team which belies his youth: Sakho may be a little raw but at just 21 he has time - as well as the ability - to develop into one of Europe's best defenders.

Kevin Gameiro

Thanks to a first-rate scouting network and an astute coach (Christian Gourcuff), Lorient have been able to dig-up, polish, then flog a series of rough diamonds. Most recently, Laurent Koscielny joined the Merlus from Ligue 2 side Tours before switching to Arsenal. Next in line is striker Kevin Gameiro who's bagged 18 goals in 30 league starts this season - having scored 17 last term. Gameiro is slight but fast and tricky, and - for my money - represents a better bet than his principal rival for the golden boot Moussa Sow.

Eden Hazard

Vast reserves of primary resources have been sacrificed in a bid to describe Hazard, in print and online. The hype will have driven up his price tag but - in the grotesque world of football - there are worse ways to blow £20 million.

Yann M'Vila

Hasn't had a spectacular season but one suspects that's how he likes it. The Rennes midfielder has put his elephantine lungs to consistent good use for club and country, displaying remarkable maturity given that his (holding) role is typically reserved for players ten years his senior.

Q: What do Lille and Kylie Minogue have in common?

• Lille have lead Ligue 1 since January, but doubts persist about their championship credentials.
• Lille are still top, but Marseille have just two points fewer and a game in hand.
• Lille remain the most fluent team in Ligue 1, but have won none of their last three league matches.
• Lille can call on the league's most talented attacking player, Eden Hazard, but he's only scored six goals all season.
• Lille also boast France's best defender, Adil Rami, but his form has been patchy since he injured his shoulder on international duty against Croatia.
• Lille's Mickael Landreau and Florent Balmont have both won Ligue 1 (with Nantes and Lyon respectively), but the club itself hasn't won a French title since 1954.
• Lille's remaining fixture list is fairly sympathetic, but does include home and away matches against fourth-placed PSG.
• Lille expect to build on this season whatever its outcome, but will have to do so without Rami who has already signed for Valencia.
• Lille may hold on to their other star performers (Hazard, Moussa Sow and Gervinho), but are equally likely to lose one or two of that trio this summer.

A: Enduring but(t)s.

French Football Lookalikes

World Cup winner Emmanuel Petit = Olympic gold medallist Sally Gunnell

Lille and Ivory Coast forward Gervinho = Super Freak Rick James

Darren Tulett, Canal Plus' resident Brit = Comedian Paul O'Grady

Raymond Domenech in his prime = Singer-songwriter Jim Croce

Domenech as France boss = Bert from Sesame Street

Marseille and France star Mathieu Valbuena = Ernie from Sesame Street

Arsenal's Samir Nasri = The Eternally Glorious Kim Jong-il

French Class

In England, the nineties gave voice to beta fan: a breed of middle class, university-educated, emotionally developed, family orientated men and women who quite like football but recognise - for the sake of good taste - that it's only a game. Beta fan has always existed, but couldn't previously be heard over the din created by alpha fan.

The Emirates Stadium is beta fan's Mecca. A Gunner, Nick Hornby, was the first to map beta fan's genetic code. If beta fan were to share a half-bottle of Waitrose GOC with any contemporary manager, it would be Arsène Wenger (make that Riesling). Beta fan's favourite player? The supremely urbane Thierry Henry.

The rise of beta fan is associated not only with Arsenal, but with the French. Wenger, Henry, Vieira, Petit, Ginola and Cantona have been totemic figures in an evolutionary period punctuated by the dual triumphs of les Bleus. Indeed, the France sides that won World Cup '98 and Euro 2000 might have been expressly selected to appeal to beta fan. Recall how mature and cerebral the likes of Lizarazu, Dugarry and Thuram appeared in comparison with, say, Gary Neville.

Whatever the gentrifying influence of French managers and players on the sport in England, football in France is - to this day - the domain of alpha fan. Why? The primary reason is financial. Ticket prices are kept in check by the mediocrity of Ligue 1. Central Paris is relentlessly bourgeois and ludicrously expensive, yet entry to the Parc des Princes costs as little as 12 Euros. Well-to-do Parisians steer clear, often professing vague allegiance to a glamorous foreign club (Barçelona or Arsenal) rather than PSG, which is left to the banlieusards, the city's underclass.

As an unashamed beta fan, I'm comfortable with my demographic's increased prominence in England, which extends from top-flight stadiums to the sports pages of every broadsheet newspaper. That said, 105 minutes spent in the Paris or Auteuil stand of the Parc is a refreshingly unreconstructed experience. There, alpha fan is alive and well. Pity about the catering.

The Lingo (Part 3)

Hygiène de vie douteuse

Not specifically a football expression but one often associated with footballers. The translation "suspect life hygiene" isn't particularly elegant but you get the idea. Boozing, womanising, gambling and brawling are - in France as they are elsewhere - the classic threats to a player's hygiène de vie.

The Differences Between Blanc and Capello or: Why France Could Win Euro 2012

The suits at Lancaster Gate must be envious of their French counterparts. Since his tenure with les Bleus began, Laurent Blanc has conducted himself in precisely the manner it was hoped Fabio Capello would as manager of England. It mustn't be forgotten, however, that Blanc has held the role for a mere seven months; after which period Capello had enjoyed comparable success and was justifiably revered as the England team's latest great hope. Indeed, there are similarities in the way both men sought to quickly impose a fresh sense of discipline on their respective squads, and strong parallels can be drawn regarding the quality of the players at their disposal. Given a botched Euro 2012, Blanc would doubtless become as unpopular as Capello now appears to be.

For all the common ground mentioned above, there is at least as much that separates the two managers. It can be argued quite legitimately that Capello has nothing to lose at this stage of his career: his success in Milan and Madrid has long since assured a golden legacy. Sections of the British press would interpret his failure as confirmation that managing England is the "Impossible Job", and that English footballers are simply too ignorant to comprehend the demands of a sophisticated foreign coach. By contrast, Blanc is new to management. He overachieved in each of his three seasons at Bordeaux and drew admiring glances from a number of more prestigious European clubs. The fickleness of football - or of the people who run it - means that his hard-earned reputation won't remain in stasis. It's a truism that managers are often helpless participants in a game of snakes and ladders: a snake would lead Blanc to a long-term let in purgatory (with Raymond Domenech next door), while a ladder could lead to Old Trafford or the Bernabéu.

The fact that France have won trophies in recent memory heaps even greater pressure on Blanc. Although Domenech contrived to dramatically lower expectations, the French still expect more than we England fans who - let's face it - would be delighted with progression to the semi-final of a major tournament. For better or worse, Blanc will forever be emblematic of France's triumphs in 1998 and 2000. Anything less than a place in the last four of next summer's European Championship and Blanc will sense his medals turning into a noose. Of course, Blanc will find that being a national hero has its advantages. He is adored by the public and unanimously respected by a group of players who can vividly recall images of le Président in action on the pitch; who could forget the tender moments he shared with Fabien Barthez? Blanc has experienced first hand the life of a modern footballer: like Capello, he is a disciplinarian, but his image is that of a cool older brother as opposed to Grumpy Grandpa Fabio (or Weird Uncle Raymond).

The rapport Blanc enjoys with his squad should prove key to France's future performance. In his inaugural season at Lyon, Yoann Gourcuff has been a shadow of the player he was under Blanc at Bordeaux. If Gourcuff looks forward to international duty as a respite from his travails in Ligue 1, he's not alone. Whereas representing England is plainly an unwelcome distraction for many of Capello's charges; the likes of Gourcuff, Benzema and Ribéry are less satisfied with - and less engrossed in - life at their clubs and are therefore more likely to prioritise their sojourns with the national team.

The negativity and feuding that characterised Domenech's reign has been expunged. Blanc has enlisted a dynamic and sympathetic staff, including fellow World Cup winner Alain Boghossian as his number two (it was he who travelled to Manchester to patch things up with Patrice Evra) and Barthez in the unofficial capacity of training ground jester/assistant goalkeeping coach. Communication is among the new watchwords of the French setup. On that note, Capello would concede that Blanc was astute to generate a minumum of fuss over his choice of captain; uncontroversially, he plumped for monolithic midfielder Alou Diarra. Although Diarra's starting berth is no longer assured, Blanc's discretion and his warm relationship with the player in question (another Bordeaux man) should guard against disharmony if the armband is reassigned.

Add to all that the fact that Blanc is French and is paid a fraction of Capello's salary (approximately £1 million per year to Capello's £6 million), and two corrosive aspects of the Capello conundrum are instantly negated. Nonetheless, if France do ultimately surpass England, it would be wrong to blame Capello; and equally misguided to criticise the FA for employing him. It's lunacy to suggest that Capello is an inferior coach to Blanc. That said, while Capello remains the best of an adequate bunch of candidates, Blanc is exactly the right manager at exactly the right time for France.

Ribéry's Return

France Football reports that Laurent Blanc travelled to Munich last week to clear the air with Franck Ribéry ahead of his recall to the France squad.

FiFiR can reveal that the seeds of this controversial rapprochement were, in fact, sown several months ago when Ribéry wrote to Blanc and Fernand Duchaussoy (the president of the FFF) in the hope of expiditing his return to international football.

Below is a full, translated transcript of Ribéry's letter.

Esteemed Sirs,

In circumstances such as these, one reflects with fresh insight on Alexander Pope's celebrated line, 'To err is human, to forgive divine.' During recent, sleepless nights, I have been moved to revisit Pope's Essay on Criticism in its entirety, and have found therein some small justification for my actions in Knysna. I humbly submit to you my thoughts on a series of relevant extracts from that magnificent, enduring work.

But of the two, less dang'rous is th'Offence,

To tire our Patience, than mis-lead our Sense

In South Africa, an ancient land of boundless variegation and energy, a malign force did indeed tire our patience; and also sought to mislead our collective sense. Was I to stand by, silent as the hopes of my nation were extinguished by the incompetence of a single man? Preposterous! I do concede, however, that the method of my protest was misjudged. Again, I defer to Pope:

A Fool might once himself alone expose,

Now One in Verse makes many more in Prose.

I do not doubt that, given time, Domenech would have been exposed by his own gargantuan idiocy, but I must insist on the urgency of our plight. My comrades and I could ill afford to temporise. Witlessly, we adopted a course of action instinctive to all Frenchmen: the strike. Pope was right to urge caution against cliché:

And ten words oft creep in one dull line:

While they ring round the same unvaried chimes,

Refusing to train was our gravest error; we ought first to have exercised our bodies, then our minds and perhaps - in the spirit of the Scriblerus Club - penned a satirical essay as an antidote to Domenech's pedantry. Alas, our powers of reason were temporarily tainted.

Today, hindsight casts an unsparing light on the sorry debacle which I have addressed. I pray that you find within yourselves the wisdom to comprehend my folly, which was provoked by haste and an undying conviction that ignorance shall not prevail.

Most respectfully yours,

F. Ribéry

Big, Big Week

Disappointed Didier.

The past week has been the most significant of the season for French clubs. Last Friday, Marseille beat Rennes with an ominously confident and coherent performance. On Saturday, Lyon were equally impressive away to Sochaux. Messrs. Deschamps and Puel had cause to be optimistic as their teams rose to within a point of Lille. The following day, les Dogues and fellow title hopefuls PSG faced stern tests of nerve against, respectively, Valenciennes and Montpellier. Lille won and now have 52 points; three more than Rennes, four more than Marseille and Lyon. PSG drew having relinquished a two goal lead; on 45 points, their hope is fading.

Midweek, if Dechamps' optimism was dented at the hands of Man United, Puel's must have been obliterated by Real Madrid. Lyon were simply shredded in the second half. The headline of L'Equipe on Thursday morning was unequivocal: Fin!

France did, however, still have a representative in the Europa League. Not any more. PSG managed an admirable 1-1 draw away against Benfica but that wasn't enough to counterbalance a 1-2 defeat in the first leg.

This period of intense interest continues into the coming weekend. Lille travel to Brest; third placed Lyon face second placed Rennes; and Marseille slug it out with PSG in round two of le Clasico. Europe may be finished: Ligue 1 is just getting started.

Christian and Adriana Karembeu Split

They never saw eye to eye.

It's official: Adriana Karembeu - Wonderbra model, former medical student and an improbably awful dancer - has put her 1.26 metre legs to decisive use by walking out on husband Christian. Adriana told Paris Match, "I could no longer bear the existence we lead... We no longer had the life of a couple."

Christian Karambeu is a man apart. In a prior interview with France Football, he spoke about the humanitarian work that requires him to be in almost constant transit: "I'll stop when I'm in a coffin!" It seems Christian's desire to make a positive difference in his native New Caledonia (and beyond) has wrought a negative impact on his domestic life.

Adriana and Christian married in 1998, the year in which Christian was a member of France's World Cup winning squad. As the couple's stardom grew, both embraced a number of political and charitable causes. Adriana continues to act as an ambassador for the Red Cross, while Christian principally lends his support to issues regarding ecology and poverty in the South Pacific.

Simultaneous to their incessant do-gooding, Christian won the Champions League twice (at Real Madrid in 1998 and 2000) as well as Euro 2000 and the World Cup; in 2006, Adriana was elected world's sexiest woman by the esteemed readers of FHM France and recently competed in Danse avec les stars.

FiFiR is sad to learn of the Karembeus' separation and will gladly buy Christian a consolatory pint or provide Adriana with a refreshingly egoistic shoulder to cry on should she need one.

The Lingo (Part 2)

Du Caviar

In Britain, we talk occasionally of "champagne football". Champagne is regarded by many in France as a staple, which doesn't do justice to the magnificence of a team like Barcelona. In response to a sublime passage of play, the French swoon instead, 'Oh-la-la! C'est du caviar!' Similarly, champagne socialists - of which there are huge numbers here - are known as la gauche caviar.

Chilienne

Another nod to the brilliant legacy of Latin American players, specifically Ramón Unzaga Azla (who was born in Spain but made his name Chile). In 1914, Unzaga Azla executed the first recorded bicycle kick in a competitive match. Une Chilienne might also be called, simply, une bicyclette.

The Lingo (Part 1)

Coup du chapeau

19th century sportsmen celebrated their exploits with restraint, by doffing their hats to the crowd. In Britain, this "hat trick" typically involved a flat cap; in France, a beret.

Mercato

Twice a year, the strongest members of the flock migrate north in search of a more fertile environment. Le Mercato is the French term for the transfer window.

Coup du sombrero

An obvious homage to the countless Latin Americans who have illuminated French football, this term denotes the act of flicking the ball over an opponent's head and retaining control. We should be sad that no concise English translation exists.

Petit Pont

Literally a 'little bridge', but in this context a nutmeg. For the record, nutmeg - the stuff that goes in an apple crumble - is muscade in French.