New Year in English

A football match at maximum speeds and the limit is a great gift to the whole world. But in a large gift box there is a small one, and the very miracle is hidden in it

On January 1, when we are all still recovering from the nightly New Year's libations, Barnes from Bernley and Listun from Liverpool go to the struggle one head, the other with a ball. Their elbows are also in business.

They fall, clinging to the struggle, and immediately jump up together, having fresh bruises, but having no complaints about each other. Are you alive, friend? Are you safe, brother? Then great!

They run on. This is not some polite continental Socker, this is the island British Football in all its harsh New Year's beauty.

The German Bundesliga has a vacation until January 13. Russian football players are resting on the beaches of Miami and Dubai - they have a pause in the championship until March. But the English pros has no rest. When all normal people sit down to the table, laid down by New Year's salads, they lace boots. When everyone joyfully pour champagne into glasses, they with gloomy combat fire in their eyes go to the place of their life, that is, to the football field.

There is an inexplicable charm in New Year's football. In the middle of the snowy, soft, flashing lights, sounding the Christmas songs of the world, a bright green rectangle, consecrated by spotlights, is suddenly discovered, and it is not at all soft and not at all peaceful athletes, passionately rushing forward and stiffly destroying each other. Everything here merges together, in this New Year's British game - a round ball and dark ale, a cheerful jingle bells and choral singing of fans, the joy of the New Year and the joy of seeing a strong, strong sight.

The fireworks, bells, confetti, Bengal lights are unforgettable, but unforgettable and moments of New Year's football performed by players who seem to be specially delaying their best blows and finites in reserve in order to give us to the New Year's time. Sadio Manet is beautiful. He corrects the ball with one touch, with the other - deflecting the body, throwing the left heel almost to the back - he fits with the heart from the rise, so the second turns out to be a neck is stuffed with quick, clear movements: pass, ricot, reception, blow, goal! The goal is juicy, like a beefsteke with blood, a strong year, like a compressed fist, a goal is an arrogant, like a bent hand bent at the elbow. He runs to the center, losing his mouth in a cry. This is his gift to the club, friends, country, family, the whole world. Happy New Year!

The time has long passed when football was a summer sport. Now football is an all -weather year -round sport of a global scale, reaching the apogee and ecstasy in the New Year's British battle. In England, they actually play steeply, rush like steam locomotives and beat like hammers, but in New Year's football all this is compacted, intensified, swells with rage, pace, passion and aggression. It seems that you hear how traffic jams flying out of bottles are clapping in old English houses and how the hearts of defenders rushing around the edge rumble. You see the unwinding eyes of the central havas, who is infinitely alien to a relaxed festive mood. You hear a curse that flies out of the vast breast of the coach of Sam Ellardiza.

It’s not good to swear for the New Year, Sam! But he himself knows. But what can you do? The coaches moan from the loads that their players receive in late December and early January. Games go in two days to the third. Pep Guardiola, Manchester City coach, almost crying, looking at bruises, hematomas, the wounds of his exhausted guys. His striker onzus cries with real large tears, leaving the field of the hit. They don't joke here. Here the bone goes into the bone. Surrounded by a festive atmosphere, hearing on all sides the wishes of happiness, health and love, seeing burning candles in each window, the defenders are fierce and the attackers become ruthless punitive furies.

They say that boxing is a cruel sport, and therefore intelligent people do not look at him. Yes, boxing is just a sample of mercy compared to what is happening on December 31 at 92 minutes of the Manchester City match against Crystal Palace,

When Kevin de Bruyne is subjected to murder ... Sorry, the tackle at the moment when, raising his head, at speed leaves the defense to the attack. Intelligent people, turn away! De Bruyne does not see the defender and does not wait for the impact on the side, and all the worse this brutal tackle with two legs forward, as a result of which the torpedoed Belgian flies onto the lawn, like a knocked down Kela. Doctors and stretchers appear. Ba, but what do we see on the other side of the field? There, too, face a lifeless body face in the grass and there are also a stretcher. Two murders in one minute - an English football detective? No, Christmas thriller!

December 26 in England Boxing Day, Box Day. This is the day when everyone gives each other boxes with gifts. A football match at maximum speeds and the limit is an excellent British gift to the whole world. But in a large gift box there is a small one, and in it the very miracle is hidden. A miracle must happen at the end of the story - this is how it is intended according to the law of the genre, according to the rules of Christmas, according to the traditions of the New Year. Therefore, when at the 85th minute “Liverpool” clogs Bernley, do not turn away from the TV to the table with snacks and bottles, thinking that you have already watched football. No, at 85 minutes English football is just beginning.

"Bernley", skipping, goes forward. Players rush with harsh faces. Looking at their faces, you understand why Richard the Lion's heart never tired of waving a huge two -handed sword and why Wellington resisted Waterloo. Bernley arranges a typical-English attack, that is, one gives from the edge, and the other jumps out with a candle and throws the ball into an empty zone, where the Icelander Gudmundsson rushes with giant steps, but there are not enough steps, and therefore he tilts his wet blond head and flies parallel to the lawn to send the ball to the mesh. Having done this, he runs back with a jaw proudly advanced forward and looks like a warrior who had just cut off the dragon with his sword. End? Draw?

Whatever the case, not for that, fighting British guys go out on the field on the field to play a draw. To respond with a blow to a blow, they always have three minutes of time added. Only now, in five seconds to the whistle, lowering his blond head along the bull, with a heart -rending cry along with the ball, Estonian with the knightly name Ragnar Klavan, the central defender of Liverpool, flies into the goal of Bernley.