Robert Pires World's Best Midfielder
The Laughing Cavalier

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by Paul Kimmage

It's Friday evening in central London and for 45 minutes now I have been studying Robert Pires.
He steers his grey Mercedes SL500 with its V8 engine and plush leather seats down Beak Street and into Kingley Court and
abandons it in a space you wouldn’t dare leave a Fiesta.

Now why doesn't that surprise me?

He steps from the car into the arms of his footwear sponsor, Jean-Franois Jeanne of Puma, wearing a brown leather coat,
designer jeans and a strut made for the catwalk.

What a prima donna!

He is escorted like royalty to a small office across the street and is handed a list of engagements. Photo shoot for
Puma. Photo shoot for Match. Photo shoot for The Sunday Times. Interview with Match. Interview with The Sunday Times.
Interview with Sky television.

He can't possibly have anything interesting to say.

The studio is a room downstairs adorned with the latest models from the Puma leisure range. He plucks a brown shoe from
a shelf and is drawn to a pair in blue. Oh! Jean-Francais! You've been hiding things from me,he says. I'm not talking to
you any more.

What is it with these guys? Seventy-grand car. Apartment in Regent's Park. And still excited by a free pair of shoes.
The omens for the interview are not good.




TWENTY minutes later, when I finally manage to prise him from the shoes and lock him into a room, attack seems the only
option.

You're in real trouble now,I inform him in French, closing the door.

Je suis foutu lu?he replies. Pourquoi?Because I'm a dirtdigger. I'm only interested in scandal.

Oh, c'est PEE-PULL lu!he cries. Hey, Jean-Francois! Au secours! (Help!) C'est People lu! C'est Voici! (French gossip
magazines)He pulls up a chair and places his mobile phone on the table. Vous parlez francais,he smiles.

You don't speak English?I reply.

No, not very well.

How can you live in London for two years and not speak English?I know, it's not good, is it? I'm living in England, I'm
playing in England, I should be speaking English. But I find myself at a club called Arsenal, and at this club there are
one, two, three, four, five French players and a French manager. I go to a restaurant and I'm with the French. I go for
a drink and I'm with the French. Maybe if I had signed for I don't know, Liverpool I'd be with English-speaking players
and there wouldn't be a problem. But at Arsenal...

What about before a game?I ask. Does the manager speak in English or French?In English, and that's fine. I can
understand but when it comes to expressing myself. The other side to it is the press. If I give an interview in English
and make a mistake with a word or phrase or don't express myself well it could cause a scandal. Imagine, for example, I
said, Oh yes, he's a good player and it came out as He's not a good player? You can imagine the headlines next day.
So it's safer for me to speak in French.

Okay,I nod, I understand.Maybe I've read him wrong.

Three weeks ago Erik Bielderman, a journalist at L'Equipe, travelled to the Arsenal training ground at London Colney in
search of Robert Pires. The real Robert Pires.

Armed with a tape recorder, a notebook and a photograph taken eight months before Pires joined Arsenal, Bielderman was
fascinated by the contrast between the fresh-faced, clean-shaven altar boy in the photo and the suave, swashbuckling,
musketeer he had become.

The newPires had taken others by surprise. Didier Deschamps, the former France captain, had shared a dressing room with
Pires since his national team debut in 1996. For a long time, Robert was almost too nice,Deschamps told Bielderman. You
had to shake him sometimes a lot of the time, even. He lacked character. But he has matured since.

Who was responsible for this remarkable transformation? What had Arsne Wenger done to Monsieur Propre? On arriving at
London Colney, Patrick Vieira was the reporter's first port of call.

The great thing about Pires is that everybody loves him,Vieira explained. Robert has an opinion on everything. He is
very open-minded and you can discuss anything with him. The quicker he returns to the French team, the better. We missed
him a lot at the World Cup and not just for his ability. He brings so much warmth and enthusiasm to the group. He is
such a positive fellow.

Bielderman handed Vieira a copy of the photograph. Can I borrow this?Vieira smiled. I want to show it to Bergkamp.

The captain excused himself and slipped next door to the gym. Hey Dennis, have you seen this?The hall erupted with
laughter.

Who's the little boy?Bergkamp asked.

The little boywas 27 years old, a world champion and captain of Olympique Marseilles when the photograph was taken in
November of 1999. But to answer Bergkamp's question we must travel further north to the city of Reims, where Pires was
born.

Antonio, his father, was from Braga in northern Portugal. Mabel, his mother, was from northern Spain. Robert, the eldest
of two boys, spent most of his childhood dressed in two football shirts that reflected his divided loyalty. One was the
Portuguese national team jersey. The other was Real Madrid's.

Languages have always haunted him. School was a problem. My French wasn't good. My parents spoke Portuguese and Spanish
at home. And then I'd go to see my grandparents and they'd speak Spanish as well and for a while it was very unsettling.
I wasn't a good student. I was interested in history and geography but what I liked most was sport.

His passion for football was inherited from Antonio. My father played with "Les Corpo", a local team, and every Saturday
night, home and away, I would take the bus with him to watch him play. He was a forward, quick, scored a lot of goals.
I'd watch him and think "Wow! He's good." Okay, he was my father, but I still think he was good. Financially, his
parents couldn't do anything for him, otherwise I think he would have made it.

At the age of 15, Pires left school and began his dream of a career in football with a two-year sports degree course in
Reims. There were three teams at Stade de Reims A, B and C. For two months I was on the C team and thought about giving
up. One day I came home and told my mother I'd had enough. She wasn't happy with me."You don't know what you want" she
said. "There are times in life when you have to hang on". Pires hung on and within four years had made his first
appearance for France and his debut as a professional for Metz where he met his wife, Nathalie, and spent the next six
seasons. Tony Cascarino, the former Republic of Ireland international who was playing at the time for Nancy, was an
early admirer.

Pires was probably the best player at Metz for 15 years,he recalls. Technically, he was brilliant. He had two great
feet, a great football brain and was taller and stronger than he appeared. The time they played Newcastle in the Uefa
Cup (December, 1996) really stands out. Pires was the best player on the park by a mile. But the real question was could
he do it at a bigger club?In July of 1998, a week after playing a supporting role in the defeat of Brazil in the World
Cup final, Pires signed a five-year deal at Marseilles, the biggest club in France. His first season on the Riviera went
well (they finished second in the league and runners-up in the Uefa Cup) but the second started disastrously and by
November of 1999 the club was in turmoil. The manager, Rolland Courbis, was sacked. The talent Laurent Blanc, Fabrizio
Ravanelli and Christophe Dugarry was sold. The fresh-faced boy with the five-year deal was being hammered by the fans
and had had enough. A meeting was arranged with the Marseilles president, Robert Louis-Dreyfus, and it was agreed that
Pires would leave in June.

The European Championship finals were staged in Belgium and Holland that summer. Pires linked up with his fellow world
champions but made the starting line-up just once in France's march to the title. Two days after the defeat of Portugal
in the semi-final, Pires was in his bathroom and about to shave one morning when Nicolas Anelka walked in.

We need to do something different for the final,Anelka announced. Pires stood back and began thinking of Italy and
tactics France might employ. But and not for the first time perhaps Anelka's mind wasn't on the game. I've got it,he
said. Just leave a narrow strip grow from your lip to your chin and I'll do the same.

Pires picked the razor up and went to work. He would allow his hair to grow longer. The D'Artagnanlook was born.

A week later, he signed a four-year deal at Arsenal. The choice was Arsenal or Real Madrid,he says. Nicolas had played
for both and advised me to come here. So did Emmanuel Petit. I liked Arsne Wenger and how he worked and after the
season I'd had at Marseilles he guaranteed me it was exactly what I needed.

The strip on Pires's chin was coming along nicely when Arsenal travelled north to Sunderland for the first game of the
2000-01 season at the Stadium of Light. Four players were booked. Vieira was sent off. Pires watched from the bench with
a lump in his throat until the 66th minute when the order came to get stripped. I'll always remember that first game at
Sunderland, it still makes me laugh,he says. Arsne came to see me before the game and said, "Okay Robert, I'm starting
you on the bench today so you can get a feel for the game and what it's like here".  I said, "Okay, no problem coach".  So
we go out and I sit down and the thing that strikes me most is how physical it is. And the commitment. The commitment
was unbelievable. Twenty minutes ... 25 minutes ... 30 minutes it was still the same. I thought, "Oh Robert. What are
you doing here? This is not for you".

In the five months that followed, Pires knuckled down to this much harder version of the beautiful game. Liam Brady was
one of many Arsenal fans who followed his progress with interest. I think it was obvious to everyone that the lad had a
culture shock when he arrived,says Brady, now director of the club's youth
academy. He struggled with the physical side
of it, how quick the game was and how little time he had on the ball. Every player, no matter which country he goes to,
needs time to settle in. But with Pires you wondered, "Does he fancy this kind of game?"The critics didn't take long to
make up their minds. One described him as a coward, another as a nancy boy. Pires continued to let his hair grow and
soon it would require a headband. But the change wasn't just physical; mentally, he was hardening as well.

I arrived here with a game that wasn't really suited to English football,he says. And I was probably a little tired
after a difficult season at Marseilles. It was hard, but after five or six months I started to adapt and it has gone
better and better since.

His second season at the club was outstanding. The statisticians at Opta rated him the most creative player in the
Premiership. His goal against Aston Villa in March was the stuff of genius. He made English football look easy in the
end, once he had come to terms with what it was about,Brady says. He was reading when they were going to challenge him,
reading when they were going to dive in and he demonstrated to everyone that he's a world-class player.



IT IS hard not to warm to Robert Pires. He apologises early in the interview for interrupting an inquiry about his
childhood and you wonder if you've ever heard such manners from a professional footballer before. You remind him he was
voted the Player of the Year by some of the football writers who had savaged him the season before and he just smiles:
Merci les journalistes.

You ask him about the things he misses most about France? Red wine? Good croissants? L'Equipe? Johnny Halliday? Designer
clothes from Jean-Claude Gitrois? A good meal at Le Petit Nice in Marseilles? The blue films on the first Saturday of
each month on Canal Plus? No, it's his family in Reims. You ask him where homeis and in a tone-perfect, John Travolta,
Roy-al-with-cheeseaccent (see Pulp Fiction) he replies: Ray-gent's Park.

Once, in Marseilles, when offered three things to take to a desert island, he chose (in order) his wife, his toothbrush
and a DVD player. A clause in his contract with Puma forbids him to shave the strip on his chin. Another deal with a
French shampoo firm, Petrole Hahn, forbids him to cut his hair.

Should they decide to dump Audrey Tautou for the follow-up to the film Amelie, Pires will get the call. They call him Le
Bob. He's cool.

We have turned back the clock to the knee injury in March that has kept him out of the game until the Champions League
defeat to Auxerre last Tuesday. What do you remember about March 23?I ask.

That was a day that started very well but finished very badly,he smiles.

No, be serious. How did it feel to miss the World Cup?But he is slow to warm to the theme. How can he explain it? The FA
Cup quarter-final replay against Newcastle at Highbury was his 49th game of the season. The ground was packed, like most
of the others. They started well, like most of the others. The tackle arrived as most of the others had. He skipped
aside, as he usually did. Twenty-five minutes gone, 2-0 up, one step closer to the Double don't ask him to explain why
his season ended on landing.

Not that he was aware of the gravity of his injury at the time. He met Thierry Henry at their favourite restaurant in
Hampstead that evening.

How is it?Henry inquired.

Not too bad,Pires replied. I should be back in about three or four weeks.

Two days later, a specialist in Strasbourg informed him his season was over. He had severed the cruciate ligament in his
right knee. There would be no World Cup.

On May 2, a week after being operated on in Marseilles, Pires travelled to St Raphael. For the next four months, a small
hotel close to the Centre Europen de Reeducation du Sportif (a specialist rehabilitation centre) would be his home.
Wenger had sent him a specialist, Tibource Daru, to supervise the training. Each day began with a 40-kilometre bike ride
and a session in the gym before lunch: There were times when it was really hard. Football is a team game, there are
always people around you but suddenly I was on my own.

I tried not to complain. It wasn't a serious injury, not in the context of life. Some people at the centre had been
badly injured in road accidents and were facing a year of rehabilitation. I'd snapped a ligament playing football. I
reminded myself of that every day.

Wenger phoned three times a week from the World Cup in Japan, sometimes at two in the morning.

Robert? Did I wake you up?And from time to time he would phone Sylvain Wiltord for the latest from the French camp. Most
of it was bad: June was a bad month. France played in three games without winning one. I never imagined we would be
eliminated in the first round. I don't think anyone did. It was hard for them. You had people saying, "They're overpaid.
They think they're superstars. They just want to go on holiday". It was irritating listening to that every day.

The team was tired. That's my opinion. That's the only explanation I can give. I saw it (before the tournament) in the
game against Belgium when we lost at Stade de France and when we struggled to beat Korea. We were coming off the back of
a very tiring season. And it doesn't matter if you're France or who you are. If you're tired you cannot win.

His rehabilitation complete, Pires returned to London on September 7. After five weeks of solid work on the training
ground, Wenger decided to test him with a specially-arranged friendly behind closed doors with Queens Park Rangers.
Pires hadn't worn an Arsenal shirt for seven months. It was good to be back. He scored.

Last Tuesday, he had to remind himself to calm down after running on for the final 20 minutes against Auxerre. I thought
my heart was going to cave in,he said. I wanted to run all over the place.On Wednesday, he shipped two heavy tackles in
a 70-minute workout against the Ipswich reserves. The good thing about the season is that I have so many objectives. To
find my game. To find my technique. To win my place back on the team. To win my place back on the French team. To win
the Champions League. I'm not going to rush into anything. There is another seven months to run in the championship.

I'm not worried. I know eventually it will come back but it's not going to happen all at once. First you've got to lose
the worry, the fear of it happening again. Then you've got to deal with the physical contact, the tackles. The final
step is to forget you ever had the operation. That will be the hardest.

The interview has ended. He picks his mobile phone from the table and you notice long, bony fingers and a silver wedding
ring. Things haven't changed on his desert island. He is still brushing his teeth and watching DVDs.

What about the ring?I inquire. Does it ever come off?Never,he replies.

Nathalie?Yes, Nathalie.

Still in love?Still in love.

Lucky guy.