AFRICAN CUP OF NATIONS – The five Pkvpillars v Two jumpers and a goalpost

Woken this morning by the call of the muezzin, blaring out “Allahu akbar” on a microphone at 5.30a.m. This got me thinking further about the similarity Pkvbetween Islam and football. The muezzin will call people to prayers five times a day every day, at sunrise, noon, mid-afternoon, sunset and night. The timetable for these calls can be found in the daily papers. A more flexible timetable is adopted for football but details can also be found in the paper, for many everyday people participate in this form of religion through the television. Our TV listings page will show, Soccer AM, Football Focus, Match of the Day any live games and late night football from overseas. Other more devout followers, will also turn to the fixtures section and answer the call, sometimes by travelling vast distances.

Islam means ‘submission’ and the people are expected to observe the five pillars which form the basis of the religion. The first pillar is to publicly declare ‘there is no God but Allah and Mohammed is his Prophet’. matka final today In football we will tell anyone that our team is better than anyone else’s, no matter what our current league position is.

The second pillar, is to answer the call of the muezzin, and pray five times a day. (I answered this mornings call by asking him to be quiet). In football it is important to get your daily fix and an innovation of recent times has been the great ball in the sky – the satellite which provides non stop information.

The third pillar is to give alms for the propogation of Islam and to help the needy. In football this can be done by paying exorbitant amounts of money in the form of either match day admission fees or satellite subscription fees.

The fourth, states that Muslims must fast during daylight hours during the month of Ramadan. We must attempt, during the season which can run all year round, to watch every game we can live, if not then on TV and also read all about it in the various forms of media available. It is also important to ensure any conversation we have in the pub is based around our religion.

The fifth and final pillar is the haj, the pilgrimage to Mecca. In football we all, wherever we are have a dream that one day we will be able to stand on the terraces and see our team in the final of our country’s premier competition. With Islam there is a specific name given to those that have made such a journey, in football those people who attend such an event are known as ‘lucky’ by those who didn’t get a ticket.

On a recent free morning, (my first and only to date) I took a walk down to the Citadel, built by Saladin in the 12th century. There you can find the mosque of Muhammad Ali, (I was attracted by the name as I am sure I have heard it somewhere before). The police presence outside was strong and inside police with guns were highly visible. The mosque itself was rather bland from the outside but inside its domes are decorated like a faberge egg. Outside in the courtyard you can see ( when it is not covered in scaffolding an ornate clock which was given by King Louis-Phillipe of France in exchange for the obelisk that stands in the Place de la Concorde. The clock was damaged upon delivery and has yet to be repaired!

The mosque dominates Cairo’s skyline, but an even better view was had from the Muqattam hills which look back over the citadel. In the distance through the haze I had my first sight of two toblerones in the distance.

Germany Weeps After Italian Smash Sattamatka

So the German dream is over. A nation awash in a party mood for the past three weeks sits in stunned disbelief at the cruel way Italy snatched two goals at the death in Dortmund.

The schwarz-rot-gold clad millions had finally come to believe that the team of apparent no-hopers led by a novice coach living in California could actually lift the trophy. As Jurgen Klinsmann’s team advanced and Madhur matka especially after they overpowered Sweden and then won a penalty shoot-out with the powerful Argentinians, the public fervour became a tidal wave capable of carrying the team all the way to the cup.

Had the Nationalmannschaft managed to hold out only another ninety seconds they probably would have had at least a finger on the trophy, given Germany’s prowess at penalties and the ever increasing tsunami of home support.

But for all the pints of smudged face paint, the resonating chants of ‘Wir fahren nach Berlin’ (We’re going to Berlin) echoing through the nation’s undergrounds, the noisy carnivals in the street that went on long into the night, the bare breasts glistening with black, red and yellow poster paint (you should have been in Munich), the fluttering flags on speeding cars and the saturating 24/7 media hyping of the German team, in the end the Sattamatka hosts were fairly and squarely undone by a better football team.

No one could dislike Italian football’s cynical gamesmanship more than I, but gli azzurri deserved their semi-final victory. Marcello Lippi’s men played stoutly in defence like Italians always do, but also knew how to turn the screw when it mattered with sustained pressure from an impressive midfield.

Their explosion at the start of extra time when they hit the woodwork twice was proof of their potency and the two goal salvo at the death came courtesy of improvised moments of superior individual technique. In attack they looked the more honed and more incisive of the two teams, producing passing triangles with rapier thrusts on the edge of the German box and they understood how to manage the rhythms of the game better than the hosts, for all their passionate endeavour.

Italy dominated possession almost 60 – 40, no mean feat against the home nation playing a World Cup semi-final at such an intimidating venue as the Westfalen Stadion, where 65,000 are perched right on top of the field.

The Germans I know were utterly speechless after the final whistle. Football can be so cruel and so painful, but we will always come back for more. In the tearful, inconsolable aftermath of another host nation crashing out following a remarkable ride of euphoria, let us hope we can see more of Klinsmann’s heroic team, who had to endure universal scorn before the finals yet almost pulled off the greatest prize of all before their lack of class was finally exposed on a stifling night in Dortmund.

Let us hope too that we have not seen the last of Klinsmann as a coach following his remarkable playing career. Above all, let us wish the wonderful scenes of jubilation across Germany for the past three weeks give birth to a more positive view of that nation within and outside its borders, a reinvented land that is friendly and open to allcomers. Danke schon, Deutschland.

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