If you believe in good football, permit yourself a tear or two.
If you believe the meek will inherit the earth, permit yourself a tear or two.
If you believe this was a giant finger to financial doping and cynicism, permit yourself a tear or two.
If you believe the game is team spirit and collectivism, permit yourself a tear or two.
If you believe in hard work, talent, and creating your luck, permit yourself a tear or two.
If you believe in David slaying Goliath, permit yourself a tear or two.
If you believe there are hidden gems that can change destiny, permit yourself a tear or two
If you believe that football is tactics and strategy, permit yourself a tear or two
If you never stop believing in yourselves, permit yourself a tear or two.
What a story. In the annals of sporting history, Leicester’s victory will surely rank amongst the greatest of achievements. A 5000 to 1 underdog with a meager $84m in transfer outlay humbled some of the most storied, deepest pocketed, highest valued sides in the world, in the richest league, and came out on top, in retrospect, by a considerable margin. Claudio Ranieri, a journeyman drawing a blank in his career, won this, one of the toughest leagues in his first season. He did this by smashing a hegemony, a clutch of clubs, preordained favourites who between them had captured 22 out of the 24 titles. Ranieri’s pre season ambitions were decidedly more modest, to avoid relegation by getting to the magic mark of 40 points. And through the season, Leicester defying all odds, kept winning. The stumble never happened, as pundits and fans predicted the fall off the cliff, the tightening of nerves and sinew, only to be stymied as they kept unearthing new heroes. Their 132 year wait is over today.
No Jamie Vardy, no problems, there was Leonardo Ulloa, Shinji Okazaki, even Wes Morgan coming up with the critical winning goal. Need another tackle, another interception, to frustrate your opponents into submission, then your man was M’Golo Kante, all of 5′ 5″ motoring on kryptonite. A high jink, a feint, a stepover to freeze, Riyad Mahrez was a hard to stop bag of tricks with a left foot that was wave and particle at the same time. Heisenberg be damned! 17 goals and 11 assists. Danny Drinkwater held the line, seeking the diagonal, bringing the lumber, all the stuff you want a side born and bred for counterattacking. Wes Morgan, a John Terry without the character flaws and extra-curricular activities was this side’s consummate leader and organizational supremo. Robert Huth picked up from Stoke, provided the experience and a slice of nastiness, in the heart. And two extremely energetic and bombing half backs in Christian Fuchs and Danny Simpson, closing down the flanks while unleashing measured crosses into the box. Kasper Schmeichel, a chip of the old block, a beautifully balanced and assertive shot stopper keeping a series of winning clean sheets. And Jamie Vardy, looking all Woody Woodpecker but with road runner legs that pumped like pistons to accelerate past defenders, the perfect predator to feed.
Leicester won because it had few illusions. No self consciousness, no analysis paralysis. They kept it simple. They are a counterattacking side which makes that 30% possession count against you. Have your ball, we will organize and soak up and soak up. Because after all that rope and dope, in weariness, the door is left ajar. In the early part of the season, Leicester were guilty of some cheapness but by the second half, the stinginess had come in waves. You had to be extra-ordinarily on mark to puncture that defence. 25 goals conceded in the first half had dried to just ten scored by the opposition as Leicester saw off some its toughest matches stringing together six victories with a margin of just the one goal scored.
All held together with the gentle and yet, at the same time, vigilant Ranieri. He never let the side get ahead of themselves. In fact, it was a sort of standing joke they had just escaped relegation. Even entertaining playing Champions League was considered apostate well after the fact they would not fall out of the top four. This was such superb managing of expectations.
Above all, Leicester becoming champions should be looked upon not through the narrow prism of sporting achievements, but in a larger context of a countervail against the soul deadening cynicism and hopelessness that allows the dice to be loaded in perpetuity in favour of the few, the elite, the powerful, the corrupt, the rich, and yes, the ignorant. One shouldn’t be surprised if Leicester’s example is used far and beyond the King Power Stadium, as a rallying cry in distant courts, parliaments, elections, and wherever the unwashed masses comes once more to battle against their nepotistic overlords.