Even in the era of super-clubs, football’s pleasure principle still holds

First impressions tend to linger. For example, I’ve always liked Paul Merson as a pundit despite the fact he might not be the most knowledgable or the most coherent and may sometimes appear not to have realised he’s on television at all, to have just found himself talking for a really long time with smartly dressed people about Arsène Wenger while, for reasons that escape him, sitting in a brightly lit room behind a cardboard desk.

The moment I first realised I was going along with pretty much whatever Merse said was the aftermath of Michael Owen’s goal against Argentina at France 98. Never mind the finish or the way the pre-injury Owen is able to move his feet at a strange, scurrying triple-speed, operating within his own distinct bubble of time and space.

The best bit of that goal is the way the TV feed cuts to the touchline just as Owen runs off to celebrate, capturing Merson out on the pitch jumping up and down, turning to the rest of the England bench with a huge gaping grin on his face yelling: “What a farkin’ goal!”

The other subs are all out there looking generically pleased. Further along Glenn Hoddle is already doing the classic temple-tapping think-about-it gesture. Only Merse looks completely lost in the moment, utterly consumed by the spectacle of a goal that arguably gave him greater joy than it did Owen himself.

Source: theguardian