Real fans never got to hear the best from Bale
As Welshman has found, language barrier is biggest hurdle to being a success overseas, writes Jim White
When Jonny Wilkinson left Toulon, the entire crowd sang God Save the Queen
If you were looking for someone to conduct the eulogy at your funeral, steer clear of Zinedine Zidane. Especially after the Real Madrid manager delivered the last rites to Gareth Bale’s career at the Bernabeu.
“It is time he left,” was about the extent of his valedictory statement. If not quite the “disgrace” it was deemed by Bale’s agent, Jonathan Barnett, it certainly made a bold attempt to define the term lukewarm.
There was no praise for the Welshman’s achievements in helping to secure four Champions Leagues and a La Liga title in Madrid, no mention of the majestic overhead kick that won the European Cup for his club last year. Instead, Bale was dismissed as if
he were an irritant requiring urgent application of medicated talcum powder.
Almost at the same time as he was being sneered on his way from Madrid, Bale’s international colleague, Aaron Ramsey, was being introduced to his new public at Juventus. And immediately you suspected that when the time comes for Ramsey to leave Turin in a couple of years, the parting words from the club’s representatives will be somewhat warmer. For the simple reason that, admittedly faltering and stumbling, Ramsey conducted his first press conference in Italian. Watching the experience of his Wales team-mate from afar, Ramsey has clearly spotted that the quickest route into the affections of the fans is to speak their language.
When it comes to achievements on the pitch, Bale is Britain’s most successful footballing export. But during six years in Madrid, he never managed to progress beyond dos cervezas por favor. And in terms of local affection, he lags well behind players such as Gary Lineker, John Charles and Michael Robinson, who became loved for the simple reason that when they opened their mouths, they were understood.
It is not just in football where this is plain. While Bradley Wiggins was adored by the local Tour de France aficionados, Chris Froome has long been treated on the other side of the Channel with a scepticism bordering on disdain. Why? Because while Wiggins speaks dazzlingly good French, Froome is still marooned at GCSE base camp.
In press conferences Wiggins would josh with the Parisian press, sending them away weeping with laughter, their notebooks filled with positive anecdotes; Froome, on the other hand, just looks lost the moment the language switches to French.
Jonny Wilkinson in Toulon was very much in the Wiggins camp. There, the local rugby fans loved him as much for his lengthy, earnest, furrowed-brow press interactions – always conducted in impeccable French – as they did his ability to kick a ball through a set of posts. Here is how much he was adored in France: when he played his last game for the club in 2014, by way of a goodbye thank you, the entire crowd sang God Save the Queen.
In English.
Linguistically illiterate, however, Bale has not managed to develop anything approaching the same rapport with the denizens of the Bernabeu. Sure, they admire his skill, swoon at his pace, have been thrilled by his goals. But they never warmed to him as a person. Because they never knew him; there was always an interpreter standing between them.
So it is, while Ramsey polishes his Italian conjugations, Bale is set to leave Madrid with barely a pat on the back. And while Barnett’s disappointment at the lack of respect will doubtless be assuaged by the £1million-a-week contract he is rumoured to have been offered to head to China, the agent might be advised to suggest that his client spend some of that cash on language tuition.
Imagine the impact Bale would make were he to follow his Welsh team-mate’s lead and conduct his welcoming press conference at Beijing Guoan entirely in Mandarin. Never mind if he never scored a goal for their team, the locals would love him for ever.