In Defence Of Samir Nasri

Not all heroes wear capes...or something like that. We are told to honour, worship, adore (and of course, pay) the legends that take to the football field. The Premier League is adorned with superstars that are larger than life, personalities that mesmerise and powers that bely their human form. They also have the ability to win games which matters less but that's typical of the generation. Should these factors necessarily guarantee hero footballing knighthood among fans like you and I? Probably not. But does it? Absolutely!

 

Do we watch the Premier League in record numbers, from the comfort of our living rooms, thus further lining the already bulging pockets for the unparallelled passing ability of the players and for the fluid football? Of course not. We watch because of a very successful blend of concentrated and elongated marketing campaigns and tribalism. We all want to belong. We want to feel like Arsenal is our club, our proud amalagamation of ideas and philosophies. We want to feel that Sergio Aguero is a superhero that represents our interests. We want to feel as if a goal scored for ''our'' team by ''our'' player is as important as a bullet shot by ''our'' soldier for ''our'' country.

For reasons far beyond this meagre observer's understanding of psychology, we view those highly paid fellas as as important to our lives as our own parents. We listen with wonder and awe as these athletes are afforded the same adulation that we fail to give our elders at home. Ergo, we believe what they have to say. We buy the products Paul Pogba endorses; we wear the clothes, the aftershave and even the face cream that he wears. This is advertising 101; the real reason football has become so popular. It is a marketing tool to sell everything except football. The game itself has become a by-product over a live, interactive, ever-evolving brochure.

We can admire someone for their talent. We can admire the way they trap the ball, dribble and shoot. We can love the way they tackle, cross and feint. You get the picture. Admiration, adulation and even emulation are fine but there is no reason why we should expect the subject of our fanaticism to be a good person. Which brings us nicely to Samir Nasri.

Now I'm not for a moment suggesting that the French international isn't a great person and a walking, talking job well done for his parents but he sure does attract controversy. Be it from teammates or colleagues at club or international level, the Frenchman is no stranger from derision from all angles. My question is this: so what? Why does Nasri have to be anything other than a mercenary? The wages at the top level alone suggest that, logically, it is going to attract people who are in it for the cash. That is the nature of the beast.

Football is the most not-so-micro microcosm for the idea of capitalism and in that system he is paid the fair market rate, as agreed between his representatives and his clubs, to play football. Safe for a few contractually-dictated charitable appearances for his club, that's it, that's all he owes anyone. He can be the biggest asshole in the world if he wants to be and that's nobody's business but his own.

Should a footballer, adored by millions of children and adults alike be the perfect role-model for impressionable minds? Absolutely not. If you want the perfect role-model for you or your children whose occupation, political allegiency, Google history, diet, fetishes, hobbies, sexual preference and opinions are all perfect then I'm afraid you're only going to find them in one place; your imagination. These people do not exist and to expect perfection (and perfect is, of course, subjective) from someone you've never met because they are good at the sport you like or play for the team you like is ridiculous.

Samir Nasri, John Terry, Luis Suarez, Diego Costa, Cristiano Ronaldo, Pepe and Leo Messi have something in common; who they are is none of your business.