Nike ran the campaign during the Euro 2008 build up, the
same tournament where it all started for Andrey Arshavin. The irony was that
the advert had Arsene Wenger asking the question.
Having just guided Zenit St Petersburg to UEFA Cup glory, Arshavin
took Euro 2008 by storm, leading Russia to the semis. Ending the year sixth in
the Ballon d'Or poll, the world was at his feet. Courted by Barcelona, he
signed for Arsenal after a much protracted transfer saga.
At 28, he arrived at the peak of his powers. He took to
English football like a fish to water; the maiden goal against Blackburn from
an acute angle after a jinking run was followed by the infamous four goals at
Anfield. Arsenal had a new hero.
In four and a half seasons with Arsenal, he scored 31 goals.
But his career never took off. He did have his moments: the assist in the
Carling Cup final, the winner against Barcelona, the assist for the returning
Thierry Henry against Sunderland. But he never touched the heights Wenger had
predicted. The Frenchman had even likened him to Ronaldo and Messi.
There was nothing wrong with his technique. His dribbling
was flawless, his shots had virtually no backlift and his balance was
immaculate. The problem, however, lay in his attitude.
Arshavin never looked like he wanted to try. He wanted
to play football. But he did not want to try too hard. Training, tracking back,
defending… these things didn’t interest him really. He just wanted to turn up and
score. But football doesn’t work that way.
There is no denying the talent he possessed. He was one of
those few gifted players who had an uncanny knack of coming up with something out of
nothing. And for a while, he thrived on that. But even the best in the business
put in hours training and toiling to become the complete footballer. The
Russian simply didn’t want to try.
"My talent, my technique, is God-given and all I do is
keep it going. It is a natural talent. I knew I had it from the first day of
training at the age of seven, because I found football easy," he once said.
That suggests how he rated himself. In his head, he was a star, better than those around him. He expected to
just turn up and dazzle. It worked for a while and then it vanished.
What he lacked was not skill or application. He knew the
play, he performed it too. But his heart wasn’t in it. He lacked desire.
I am going to miss it all. His tiny frame scampering around
the Emirates turf, jinking and jostling, wrong footing opponents. The powerful
shot that fired off his boot, irrespective of which foot he kicked with. That
finger to the lips celebration as he scurried towards the corner flag every time
he scored. They were far and few, but he did have his moments.
And so he leaves Arsenal, nothing but yet another entry in
the list of what might have been. But unlike others who fell prey to injury,
bad luck or circumstance, his sorry plight is of his own making.
After all, for all the talent and all the opportunities, in
the end it boils down to this… How badly do you want to be a footballer?
