Common sense went missing in last year’s World Cup Football is a universal language that we speak with different accents – and the referee is the interpreter. Some years ago, as Leonardo Gaciba collected a prize for being chosen as Brazil’s best referee, he gave me an insight into his professional philosophy. The referee, he said, had to be something of a chameleon, adjusting his interpretation of the rules to suit the environment, giving the kind of decisions expected by players, fans and media. In Brazil, for example, everyone was forever looking for fouls. Elsewhere in South America, even after some physical contact, the dispute for the ball would continue. So for a domestic Brazilian game he would use his whistle more, while in a Copa Libertadores match he would be more inclined to let the game flow.
Clearly in the first case, that of a Brazilian game, there are more decisions to be taken – and more decisions to be argued about afterwards. It is, perhaps, no surprise then, that major Brazilian TV transmissions invariably have an ex-referee as part of the panel, analysing the key actions of the man in the middle. It is a timid newcomer in British television, but in Brazil the on-screen presence of former referees is almost as traditional as Carnaval. It has become common for high profile referees to go into media work once they have hung up their whistles – indeed, Leonardo Gaciba has done exactly that. And one thing that the ex-referee pundits are usually quick to condemn is former colleagues who are weak on discipline. Last month there was a high profile clash between two Brazilian players on the other side of the Atlantic. Arsenal’s Gabriel Paulista was sent off by Mike Dean after a spat with Chelsea’s Diego Costa.
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On the BBC, Garth Crooks was not impressed. “You need a referee that is sensible about it,” said Crooks, “and treats the players like men.
If no one had been sent off in that situation, no one would have screamed. We all want to see 11 against 11. Don’t look for excuses to send players off, that’s not your job, and try your very best to keep players on the pitch.” It is a fair summary of a mainstream British view, whereby the referee is expected to use the red card as a last resort. His first obligation is to show common sense. But – and it is here that Gaciba’s observation about the need to be a chameleon is so pertinent – what happens when common sense is no longer common? When all concerned do not share the same concepts of what is fair and just? One obvious example is the 2010 World Cup, when in his quest to keep everyone on the field, Howard Webb surely let the Dutch get away with too much rough stuff against the Spaniards.
And there were further examples in last year’s World Cup, especially in the knock out rounds. Referees seemed reluctant to reach for their cards. If the idea was to preserve the spectacle by trying to sure that players did not miss games through suspension, then it backfired in the most spectacular manner.
Some games can run smoothly with this ‘softly, softly’ approach. In others, especially all-South American encounters, it is asking for trouble. The risk exists of the match turning into a free-for-all. The warning signs were apparent in the second round tie between Brazil and Chile, which contained 51 fouls in 120 minutes. Brazil’s next game, against Colombia had 54 in 90 – and no one was booked within the first hour. The hosts took advantage of refereeing laxity to kick Colombia’s James Rodriguez off his stride with a succession of fouls – but it rebounded badly on them when Neymar picked up a back injury that ruled him out of the fateful semi final with Germany. On this occasion it seemed clear that the referee – Spain’s Carlos Velasco Carballo – was unable to establish a disciplinary framework that suited the teams involved and the needs of the spectacle.
He was not enough of a chameleon. His ‘common sense’ approach made no sense at all.
SPOKANE -- Opening tip is moments away and the energy in the Kennel is at full throttle. Students are bobbing, pointing and screaming. Four TV camera crews point lenses in every direction inside Gonzaga's roadhouse gym. In the midst of this delirium is a tall, gangly figure wearing a navy blue warm-up suit and several layers of emotion. He skips to the back of the Bulldogs' layup line with long, whimsical strides, at the same time pursing his lips like a fish and blowing out air, practically hyperventilating. On his next trip to the basket, he's suddenly beaming, soaking in the charged-up atmosphere. With the horn about to sound, his demeanor changes once more, and he starts clapping his hands as hard as he can and violently shaking his head, covered by braids.
Within seconds, he has gone from hurricane to sun break to rolling thunder. 'People want to know, and how can I tell them if even I don't know?' The thickly accented forward says with a sigh. 'I shop at the mall and people come up to me, and it's, 'What are you going to do?' 'Can't you say hi first?' Turiaf, whose first name is pronounced 'Row-KNEE,' is able to provide a greeting five ways. He's fluent in English, French and his native Creole, proficient yet rusty in Spanish, and he's taking Italian in school.
He's a new breed of elite basketball player, someone who's traveled the world at a tender age. Most of his American peers haven't ventured far from their comfortable neighborhoods. Turiaf leads the nation's seventh-ranked team in scoring (15.8), sternum-bruising chest bumps and windup high-fives.
Although some question whether he gets too wild and crazy on the court, those whose opinions count the most insist his extroverted style works for them. 'A lot of people look at him and say, 'Oh, he celebrates on every play,' ' says scout, a regular to Gonzaga games. 'Sometimes they mistake that for being a hot dog. I like his intensity level. This kid plays with a passion.'
Oui Gonzaga found Turiaf in France. So did Connecticut, Florida State, Georgia, North Carolina, Pepperdine and Saint Mary's. Sprouting to 6-6 by the time he was 14, Turiaf gave up soccer and tennis for basketball in his tiny French-controlled island country north of the Venezuela coastline. Within a year, he was pulled from a tryout and sent to Insep, the national athletic academy in Paris.
He lived in a dormitory setting, attending classes sandwiched around a daily noon-to-2 p.m. Basketball practice, boldly moving 4,200 miles from his family. Bulldogs assistant coach spotted Turiaf while looking over footage of a Junior World Championship game. Lloyd noted the athleticism and unmistakable exuberance.
He was entrusted with finding Gonzaga a big man to replace the graduating Casey Calvary and one-time prospect, a Croatian who had eligibility issues that never got untangled. [Note: Lloyd's last name was incorrect in the original version of this story.] Turiaf was their guy. Lloyd called Turiaf in October 2000, starting a 10-month recruitment.
Luckily, he didn't have to start at ground level. 'If you're in basketball, you know about colleges,' Turiaf said. 'I had heard about playing there, but I didn't know the team was so successful.' UConn and Georgia recruiters were dispatched to Paris to look at Turiaf and came away unimpressed., Gonzaga's top assistant, took the same trip and confirmed what Lloyd had seen on video. 'A lot of people were sniffing around him,' Grier said. 'I wouldn't describe his practice habits back then as him being an extremely hard worker. When UConn and those guys went over, they were probably looking for a finished product.'
Turiaf, though a good student, also needed more time to qualify academically, scaring off other schools. In July 2001, he was ready to visit the Gonzaga campus -- and meet Lloyd for the first time. 'When he got off the plane, he took me off to the side and said, 'Tommy, I think of you as a brother, can I trust you that everything is the truth?' ' Lloyd recalled. From the start, Turiaf was certain he could catch the recruiter on any missteps. 'I could see in his eyes, because Tommy, when he's not comfortable, he starts blushing,' he said laughing. Turiaf also took recruiting trips to Pepperdine and Saint Mary's, but Spokane in the summer looked appealing.
Besides, he got the hard sell from Calvary, who brazenly informed the recruit he could go to one of the other schools and sit on the beach and be the same player, or come to Gonzaga and flourish. Everything that was explained to him turned out to be gospel, except for one minor loophole.
'It was good weather when I went, it was 'Summertime in the 509,' as (teammate) always says,' said Turiaf, who last week wore a heavy, fur-lined coat as he walked through frequent snow flurries. 'They said the weather was kind of like Paris. That was a blunt, bold lie.' Made in the shade Martinique averages 79 degrees year-round, with two sets of trade winds in the Lesser Antilles, or 'Breezy Islands,' keeping things comfortable. The difference between summer and winter is never more than five degrees. Over the past six years, since becoming a serious basketball player, Turiaf's visits to the island and his inland hometown of Le Robert have totaled three and a half months. He's the oldest of three children of, a former team handball player, and, a former dancer, their combination of talents providing ample clues to Ronny's athletic prowess.
One of his sisters, Elodie, 15, lives in Paris with their mother; another, Florence, 8, resides in Martinique with their father. His parents have never married.
Download Coldplay A Sky Full Of Stars Mp3. On an island that measures 50 miles long by 22 miles wide and was discovered by Columbus, Turiaf was treated to the simple life as a child. There was a series of modest family homes. There were beach barbecues. Relatives would pool their food and water and take a monthlong holiday at the beach, leaving only when the tropical storm season threatened. 'We didn't have money to go on vacation, so you would go to the beach and live there if you wanted, because it was free,' Turiaf said. 'My parents did enough jobs to put food on the table, but I know how it is to live without money.' If there is a downside to this far-flung paradise, it is the limited career opportunities, which foster periodic outbreaks of violence among the 400,000-plus residents.
Turiaf had a set of grandparents and an uncle die within a year of each other, surrounded by mysterious circumstances, no answers provided. Turiaf often gets emotional when he's apart from his family, especially at Christmas, but he presses on. He has obligations to fulfill.
He has the welfare of others to think about. 'I've been making so much sacrifice, hopefully it'll pay off,' he said. 'I left to improve myself. I knew I could play first division (basketball) in France or Spain, and there was no doubt in my mind.
As soon as I left my mom's house, I've been dreaming of making a living. 'My mom needs to be taken care of. That's my job.' Life as a Zag On this particular night, Turiaf finds little opposition from Pepperdine inside the raucous Kennel.
During a 93-73 victory, he repeatedly works his way inside for lay-ins, short jumpers and a backdoor dunk. Seemingly unstoppable, he sinks 7 of 9 shots and all eight of his free throws to finish with a team-high 22 points. Could this type of performance encourage him to take the next step and leave the West Coast Athletic Conference for the pros after this season? Nearly everyone on the periphery is discouraging this idea, starting with Sellers, the persistent NBA scout. 'His skill level still needs to develop,' the Grizzlies talent-hunter said. 'We'd like to see him develop a nice corner jumper, not long, and a foul-line shot, and he'll be fine.
That's why he needs to stay in school.' When apprised of this critique, Turiaf snorts and only says, 'People don't see me shoot jump shots because that's not what Gonzaga basketball is all about. Gonzaga basketball is about posting up and going down low, and I feel comfortable down there. I also feel comfortable with my jump shot. 'Maybe I'm not going to be Larry Bird, but don't tell me I don't have a jump shot.' There are several reasons for him to stay put. Turiaf is doing well in school, posting a 3.45 grade-point average last quarter while pursuing a degree in sports management.
He could be an agent, coach or team executive. He has said he is determined to get a diploma. 'What he wants from his college experience is what you'd hope every player would want,' Bulldogs coach Mark Few said. 'I wish American kids would have the desire that he does.' Spokane is smitten with the big guy.
Local high schools ask him to speak to their French classes. Fans easily approach him, and always get a heartfelt response in return. 'Once I met him, I thought he'd be a perfect fit for us,' Few said.
'He could run for mayor. With (President) Bush, I'd put him on his ticket.' Turiaf is dating Tracy Thomas, a Tacoma woman taking classes at after attending Gonzaga. Their one-year relationship appears serious. 'This is nothing like I've experienced before,' he said. 'She would follow me wherever I go.' For now, Turiaf shares a three-room, second-floor campus apartment with former Washington player Erroll Knight.
Their cozy quarters lately have been cleaner than usual, mindful that ESPN-TV camera crews have been coming through and documenting players' outside lives, part of an ongoing series featuring the Bulldogs. These players have the bare essentials stacked in each room, TVs, VCRs and CD players. There's a blue blanket tacked over the main window facing the parking lot, providing makeshift privacy. For obvious inspiration, Knight has a Michael Jordan game jersey hanging on the wall over his bed. Turiaf's decor leans more to his musical and philosophical tastes: mixed with his collection of 36 hats and countless family photos filling his wall space are several posters of and Bob Marley. 'They're both dead and people are still talking about them,' Turiaf said.
'People still listen to their music, to the lyrics. That shows how important they were. Tupac said, 'Everything you do bad will come back to you.' That's what my life's all about now: I'm trying to do the right thing.' He wasn't talking about choosing between his senior year and the NBA, or was he? Gonzaga's coaches have quizzed him about this subject, but, after hearing his immediate response, have thought better of revisiting it.
No sense helping drive him away. 'I don't think about leaving early,' Turiaf insisted. 'I don't really think about it unless the coaches or people I see in the mall or newspaper guys bring it up.'