Last night I watched the lamest horror movie. I won’t tell you the title because you will watch it and hate me and remove your BFB bookmark. It was about a radio wave that turned people into homicidal maniacs. The not-maniacs turned homicidal to protect themselves from the real maniacs, and everyone kept asking each other if they were maniacs. The code word was “crazy”: “Do you have the crazy? How do I know you’re not a crazy?” We think the script probably spelled it “crazie”.
Now, rewind your noggin-bobbin to the Audi Cup. Ho hum, although I do love a Chivas tailgate. Anyhoo, at one point the Hunky Soccer Husband muttered, “I don’t know if Affellay’s good enough.” “My god, man,” I cried. “Are you out of your mind?” Then Thiago made some insane curlie-cue. “Wow, that’s crazy,” we said. But it was more than crazy. It was crazie. And maybe that’s how good you have to be.
Not everyone is crazy, let alone crazie. Some people are crazy without being crazie, and some are crazie even though there’s nothing particularly crazy about them. Let’s review, and then I’ll leave it up to you maniacs to decide.
Take Mourinho. He’s mentally unstable. He calls himself these crazy names, and makes these crazy accusations, and goes on these crazy shopping sprees, and then indulges this crazy power trip, and he’s still got just one (busted) Copa del Rey in the cabinet. So he’s crazy, all right, but he’s not crazie.
You can have crazy attributes and not be crazie. You can have crazy tattoos, like Guti. You can have crazy eyes, like Oezil (“Like” them on Facebook!) You can have crazy parents, like the Dos Santos brothers. You can have crazy height, like Zigic. All are really good players. They have some crazy *&%$#. But none of them are crazie.
On the other hand, you can have crazy attributes and be crazie. You can have crazy hair stacked atop a mountain of unstoppable sinew. You can have crazy legs that dig in and kick out and make lesser men go splat. You can have a crazy girlfriend (I know, you can do that too) and make dashing upfield runs (no, you can’t). You can wear crazy stuff, like fuzzy wristbands circa 1973 Wimbledon, and then kick out some stamina. You can have a crazy complexion, like that nutjob with the bodega.
You can have crazy, be crazy and have the crazie. Cristiano Ronaldo, I am convinced, is just as personality-disordered as his diagnosable míster. He drives the Paris Hilton set crazy because he makes Michelangelo’s David look like Davey Jones. But his pace, his stride, his sheer fluidity on the ball, that’s just *&%$#@ crazie. (That’s for you, Bassam!)
But my favorite crazie is stealth. You wouldn’t know him if he walked past you on a B-movie set waving a chainsaw. It’s a guy who wears stonewash denim, out, and then makes a crazie percentage of perfect, invisible, almost impossible passes. It’s the lanky fellow who endures diagnosis, illness, recovery and training, only to dominate the backfield as if he’s endured nothing more than a facial. It’s the stumpy dude who commands the ball into an astronomically-small orbit around his crazie ankles.
So back to Affellay. He’s crazy young. And he’s got a crazy run.
But is he crazie?
Fabregas. Coaches are crazy about him. He’s crazed with desire to moc moc with FCB.
But is he crazie enough to convince BFB?
Thiago. He’s young too. He’s got some crazy FCB blood.
And I think he just might be crazie.