[ad_1]
Let’s be honest. They are in love, right? This is a bromance made in the television studio. While some soccer media associations are dumber and dumber, here we have Don Quijote and Sancho Panza from the world of experts, Bill and Ted from soccer, or maybe even Tango and Cash. The great movie of friends of the game.
They are the only show in town these days, so famous and recognized that both participants need each one to go by only one name: Roy and Micah. One Roy and Micah, there is only one Roy and Micah.
It’s an extraordinary thing when a pair of experts manage to outshine the game itself, but Roy and Micah’s show is often more entertaining than the football they’ve been asked to comment on.
Cork’s signature high-pitched tone versus Leeds’s sonic deep bass is a compelling sight.
They say opposites attract, but for a while this was a one-sided relationship. New to the expert game, Micah arrived like a breath of fresh air, unafraid to laugh, unafraid to make his corner with good humor and no little passion.
At first Roy looked at him through the narrowed eyes of the cynical old scoundrel who had seen too many young men shoving back and forth. Who was this flaming-eyed madman, seeking to mix serious points with uproarious laughter? Was it for real?
Roy has based his career as an expert on being the man you can trust not to please the beloved designers who carry laundry, scented, and scented bags out there these days. He has perfected the art of frowning at any outpouring of emotion other than anger, as if it were an offense to his masculinity; almost embarrassed about it.
Roy is the role of a classic emotionally repressed tough man who looks at the modern world and is vaguely disgusted by it. Sometimes when he wears a full beard, he looks like an Old Testament prophet.
At other times, clean-shaven and in a suit, the cleric of the village of fire and brimstone who sees the sin all around him.
He has perfected his brow furrowing and teasing as if he caught the smell of blocked drain in any point of view that differs from his own. And that’s what we love about Roy. Yes, he could have the expression of a man forced to urinate with his own eyes, but that’s his USP.
There are times when he seems to be very angry or disgusted, with something or someone, probably David De Gea or Paul Pogba, in an almost cartoonish way. He will treat a late draw against Manchester United as if it were a crime against all that is decent.
In these moments, it is often difficult to know if Roy is simply playing Roy or if he really is Roy, or if he can tell the difference himself.
There is certainly something of a pantomime villain about him who manages to play. He seems to enjoy the bad boy role, but it’s a niche he finds easy to fill and he’s been very successful at it.
If you think about Roy right now, he’s frowning, isn’t he? He’s certainly not smiling, or God forbid, laughing. Roy doesn’t laugh, or didn’t laugh until he met Micah, and we had the impression that he found him vaguely offensive when someone else laughed.
My grandmother, a fearsome Yorkshire woman who was built entirely on nicotine and bitterness, seeing someone in the street laugh, saw in a thin-lipped hiss: “What do you have to laugh at?” For her, laughing was a weakness of character. He would have loved Roy.
In contrast, when we think of Micah, in our mind’s eye he is throwing his head back and laughing out loud, almost to the point of incontinence. Yours isn’t just a laugh, it’s a whole-body push as you indulge in your own inner joy generator. No one is that uninhibited in the soccer studio.
He brings real joy, even to Roy, and Roy’s joy is a really rare thing.
Initially, the man from Cork looked at the jubilant paroxysms of his fellow experts as if from a different planet, almost taken aback by the noise he was making. At first, like any man who is suspicious of emotions, his instinct was to resist this exuberant force of nature, in the same way that your dad resists being carried onto the dance floor to cut a carpet at a reception for a wedding, at least until the eighth. night drink.
This captivated us. What would be the result of this seemingly inappropriate soul interaction?
Would there be screaming? Would there be violence?
Possibly the last thing we expected was that they would really fall in love with each other. As time has passed, Roy has visibly relaxed and now seems at ease with the outbursts, even enjoying them, looking at Micah warmly. Each exchanges the distinctive character traits of the other.
Micah uploads video clips of pre-show pranks, of him stalking Roy, of them in the green room, laughing in that hysterical, breathless way.
It seems that Roy respects a man who just laughs in his face and takes the mickey away, possibly because in his entire life, or at least since he had Brian Clough as his boss, no one has dared to do this.
He also seems to enjoy the fact that Micah will push him, unafraid to confront him. When the others just shut up and let Roy have his way, Micah will explode at anything he thinks is wrong. Perhaps Roy likes a man who will go toe to toe with him and defend himself when others cringe.
Micah seemed to instinctively sense that everyone, for too long, had taken Roy too seriously, possibly including Roy himself, and set out to discredit his personality, but in a caring and respectful way. In fact, he has often said how in awe of Keane and the great person he works with; what a soccer legend he is.
It is a form of love bombing; even Roy is not immune to these good vibes.
In return, Roy has realized that this man is not a clown and he is not being disrespectful, he is only cheerful on a nuclear level. But surely the strangest thing is how Roy took the ball from Micah and ran with it, even playing with the former City defender.
She has always had a dry wit and a sharp, biting tongue when needed as a form of defense, but Micah’s presence seems to have brought her more warmth. We can see it in his body language, now much more open and relaxed when he sits next to the former City defender.
Micah’s great achievement in this unlikely relationship is that by joking about Roy’s passive-aggressive personality, he managed to make Keane seem like a more well-rounded personality. None of us would have thought that Roy would take a joke, but it turns out that not only can he, but he enjoys them.
Micah is larger than life, or at least larger than those too tight suits he wears alongside tan shoes that look more like ICBMs. His great flamboyant style perfectly reflects Roy’s somewhat repressed conservatism, one highlighting something in the other. They are sugar and spices, salt and vinegar, vindaloo and yogurt.
The biggest crime of football experts is being boring and God knows that many of us have been rigidly bored over the years, but not these two.
Forget about soccer, we just want to see the next episode of Roy and Micah’s show.
The talk shop: three other great expert associations
Derek Dougan and Malcolm Allison
Long ago, in a distant world, these two got together for the groundbreaking coverage of the 1970 ITV World Cup in a four-man panel, The Doog and Big Mal were yin and yang.
One a charming but fierce Irish striker from Norn, the other a cerebral football thinker who was in the process of creating a huge alter ego for himself that would surpass the footballer; a man who was absolutely full to the brim with champagne.
There were screams, there were finger pricks, there were lines. It was bustling, loud and smoky. The Doog sat on Mal’s right, wrapped in the smoke of the Cuban cigar from the Englishman trying to be the voice of reason while Big Mal threw insulting criticisms and volleys on everything and everyone. It was the most rock ‘n roll football experience we have ever seen and would surprise most modern viewers.
Later, Dougan said, “Malcolm was the only guy I’ve ever worked with who could drink too much champagne and not draw words.”
Gary Neville and Jamie Carragher
They come as a pair of exceptionally bolch union reps from the ’70s, fomenting the shop floor revolution among freehand tool grinders in some windswept factory in Ramsbottom.
One with the kind of Lancashire flat drone that seems designed to talk plain and talk about the price of gut in the pouring rain at the Bury market, the other with a Bootle is-drowning-with accent. -a-fish-bone could grate cheese.
They make an unlikely pair, especially given their pro one-club biases. And yet despite this, they dominate the world of soccer experts like Reyes through mastery of giant iPads, knowing self-loathing and by virtue of researching and preparing, rather than simply showing up and pretending that soccer it is an ancient and mysterious code. that only the ex-professional can decipher.
Saint and Greavsie
Ian St John and Jimmy Greaves, members of ITV from 1985 to 1992, were not so much a pair of former professional players and soccer experts, but rather a light-hearted comedy duo. It was a legendary partnership, almost larger than life.
It almost became difficult to tell the difference between his Spitting Image puppets and the real ones.
Saint played the straight man in pants and a sports jacket doing the introductions while trying to be a serious announcer, while Jim laughed and joked about things that would now be taken too seriously.
A referee headbutting a player? Funny. Is a referee being sent off the field of play? Ha ha, watch him go, Saint. Scotland was always called ‘chilly-jocko-land’ and Aston Villa president Doug Ellis was always ‘Deadly Doug’.
Jimmy generally acted like a mischievous soccer Bagpuss dressed in a Pringle sweater.
It was a lesson that to take football seriously you had to be prepared not to take it seriously. This was before big money turned soccer into serious business, also known as The Glory Days.
[ad_2]