N Someone loves Erling Haaland. Well, to be honest, a few of his peers – partners, parents, friends – will surely love him; otherwise he wouldn’t wear that shamelessly unpretentious, blunt, and unbiased smile that you nevertheless accept of him despite all his edge – or perhaps because of it. It is quite astonishing that a player who is indisputably the best in his position receives so little affection. Seven theses on the matter:
1. Haaland is the antipode to the Terminator: He is incredibly approachable, lovable, yet on the pitch he is exactly this human-machine who simply swallows tackles and kicks from defenders, not even touched by them. He is always faster, higher, farther, but without the fracture that such overperformers would typically have; in fact most people don’t believe his fairy-tale numbers. He is the opposite of a 90s hero and yet resembles Sylvester Stallone. The older generation distrusts him for that.
2. Erling Haaland is a workhorse. The indestructibility of his body and his sunlit disposition should perhaps lead to some sort of hardness that explains the reason for this over-ambitious effort: some kind of trauma, some kind of fracture. With Haaland there is nothing of that sort to be found. He plows the earth and delights in the potatoes he harvests. Haaland is a worker, whose fault is that he is paid far too well.
3. And by whom? By Manchester City. If he played for Liverpool or Bayern, there would surely be people who loved him unconditionally. But Haaland, in spite of his earthiness, is not a romantic; no one in these circles is. He feels valued at Man City, perhaps like a caregiver who is left-leaning, yet still signs on at a Catholic nursing home: If Haaland is a worker, then he is not a unionist, not a trade unionist.
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4. The decade before was shaped by players whose roles were more ambiguous than Haaland’s. Haaland is the executioner; Haaland is the keystroke that, in Mortal Kombat, completely pulverizes the injured opponent. Before that, for ten or fifteen years, there were players who decisively steered the game themselves, who read, interpreted, and controlled it. With the decline of auteur cinema, these very figures appeared in football, who understood football better than all those outside; when you see how Messi coaches his teammates to create space, and what a deep understanding he has of space and timing, Haaland certainly appears crude by comparison.
5. Haaland is a superstar by accident (still). In fact, he simply excels at what is asked of him: with a naivety that is often called a force of nature, to score goals. He doesn’t yet want to mean more. Yet his success condemns him to more: what he does must transcend him. His real secret, however, is that he does not overthink things: but the audience wants to devour him like Kronos almost devoured Zeus.
6. But what is true: Haaland is not made for defeats. Recently Norway lost 5-1 to Austria, and Haaland refrained from issuing any statements. Goals are his domain; conceded goals are nothing he can say much about. Haaland is only then the hero of football, only then the hero of the working class, when he is allowed to shine completely and is not questioned by the result.
7. And despite all the conflicts he refuses to shoulder, he remains shamelessly good and, above all, efficient. His unequivocal clarity means that he is not loved; I hope that matters to him as little as possible for as long as possible.
