Footballers and Role Models: A Fine Line, or an Absurdity?

Around the time that the wheels began to spectacularly come off former West Coast Eagles footballer Ben Cousins' career my father sat me down for a chat amidst a backdrop of wall to wall moral outrage from the media. I was 17 at the time and had long since worked out my own role models and idols, so it was more out of curiosity than concern. He asked me what I thought of Ben Cousins, and I replied that he was a fantastic footballer, but as far as being a role model that any parents that encouraged their kids to live the same life as their favourite footballer needed their head examined. The subject wasn't revisited after that, and Cousins continued to be a professional on the pitch and court controversy off it until his retirement last month.

More recently, Chelsea Football Club captain John Terry was found to have cheated on his wife with the girlfriend of his best friend and former team mate Wayne Bridge. The same discussion about role models arose. Last week Manchester United's Wayne Rooney was the centre of a similar scandal. He had been seeing a prostitute while his wife was pregnant with their child, and again the reaction was largely that he had failed as a role model. Despite having no love for Chelsea Football Club or John Terry my reaction was the same in both instances: I maintained that they were good footballers, and that a parent that let their child adopt John Terry or Wayne Rooney as a role model for every sphere of their life was remiss to the point of negligence.

As I thought this over I began to feel slightly hypocritical, thanks entirely to Eric Cantona. Eric Daniel Pierre Cantona is my favourite footballer of all time. The French forward joined Manchester United in 1992 and after 26 seasons without a league title he led the club to league success in four of the next five seasons, as well as delivering two FA Cups to Old Trafford in that time. His effect on the club went beyond success on the hallowed turf at Old Trafford. His dedication in training was a lift to the rest of the squad, and he was pivotal in helping provide a stable atmosphere for the generation of highly talented youth players that graduated to the first team in the early 1990s. Cantona is someone who I have boundless admiration for. I wear a shirt with his name and number when I play football, I wear t shirts with him on them to uni, I've read his biography more than once and I consider Looking for Eric one of the best movies of 2009.

Purely as a footballer, Eric is not someone I can seek to emulate. On the pitch he was skilled without peer, able to take entire defences out of the game with a deft touch or turn. Youtube that shit if you have any doubt. Whereas I on the pitch am mostly a clodder, lumbering about the place desperately trying not to accidentally injure myself (fortunately this isn't on Youtube). However, he had passion and dedication to his work, he had boundless self confidence, and an almost reckless record of speaking his mind. These are all characteristics that I try to espouse in my everyday life, and while I'm mostly unsuccessful at this it's the thought that counts. Cantona was no stranger to controversy during his career. Apart from being a fantastic footballer, he is most known for his karate kick of a Crystal Palace fan at Selhurst Park in January 1995 after being on the end of a racist tirade from the yob, for which he was banned from football for 8 months and almost retired. While playing in France he almost habitually fell out with his managers. How can I reconcile my views on footballers are role models with my admiration of Eric Cantona?

It dawns on me that what those morally outraged by these things need to realise is that there's a difference between admiring someone and holding them as a role model. I know I've said it about eight times in this piece already, but I'll say it again: I absolutely love Eric Cantona. He was outrageously talented, he left his mark on Manchester United. I admire and respect him in the same way that you admire and respect anyone that is the best at what they do. Here's the kicker though - as many times as I've read his biography and tributes to him by journos, I don't know the man. I've never been in the same room as him, let alone city or even continent. Therein lies the difference - our admiration will always extend to people that we don't know personally. It's human nature to see someone that has done well, and try and recreate the means to their success - for example John Terry, Wayne Rooney, Ben Cousins and Eric Cantona were all noted as being hard and dedicated workers on the training ground. It's natural that anyone that wants to be as successful as they have and have an admiration for them may take the same approach, despite not knowing any of these people personally.

This is distinct from considering someone a role model, someone you model your life on. To identify so strongly with a stranger that you consider them a role model is to miss the point entirely of having someone as a role model. If you identify so strongly with a person notable only because they are a talented sportsman that you seek to emulate their behaviour in every way that's closer to a mental complex than healthy behaviour for my money.

Mirror's Edge

Remember the first five minutes from The Matrix, where Carrie Anne Moss runs away from the police and Hugo Weaving across rooftops, leaping from building to building until she reaches a safe point? Well if you can imagine an entire game based on that premise, you'd have Mirror's Edge in a nutshell.

You play as Faith, an inhabitant of a bog standard dystopian future society that you've seen done a lot better dozens of times previously. Faith is a runner, essentially a high stakes courier of messages between the anti establishment groups that don't want to use government monitored digital communication. Her sister is a cop who is framed for the murder of a mayoral candidate, and Faith has to try and find out who is behind it all. To be honest the exposition isn't brilliant, and while I'm sure that the game's main message is meant to be one of free thinking individualism all to often the runners come across like those people that insist in skateboarding in the doorways of shopping centres - edgy for the sake of being edgy.

As Faith you're a skilled exponent of parkour, which is all the rage with those kids that self identify as cool these days.  While the view point is first person, there isn't much shooter to be seen here. There are guns in the game, but you have to liberate them from government soldiers, and while wielding them you can't run or reload - they are very much a temporary fix to a tight situation. While this has annoyed some other reviewers I feel they've missed the point. Faith isn't a soldier but an acrobat highly skilled at parkour, and it's possible to finish the game without firing a single shot.

Essentially the name of the game is moving from A to B as fast and effectively as possible across the rooftops and through the buildings of the city. Jumping fences and railings, bounding between buildings, running along walls and making the occasional leap of faith. It's similar to games that came before, Assassins Creed and the Prince of Persia series especially, although the draw card is that it's all done from a first person point of view. It works quite well and is reasonably immersive - the camera sways, bobs, and shakes as you'd expect a human head to, and being able to see Faith's body as you're running, or if you look down, really places you in the environment, and what an environment it is.

The graphics are simply gorgeous. I really dig the supersaturated look. All of the environments, indoor and outdoor, are coloured sterile white with a single vibrant colour accompanying. There is a lovely wash out effect that emulates the response that a human eye would have to such a bright environment in real life. However there are a few issues. As much as it looks amazing, there isn't really a lot of visual variety between the levels apart from the time of day, and while the art direction is beautiful the character models aren't the greatest you'll ever see.

Being a runner is reasonably easy to pick up (helped by 'runner vision', which tells you where to go by colouring parts of the environment bright red), but unfortunately doesn't realise it's full potential for more than a few fleeting moments. Possibly the best sequence of the game sees you pursued by government forces with similar parkour training to you.  This sequence sees you progress from fleeing through a building, leaping into an adjacent building through a window, onto rooftops in the downtown section of the city, knowing that there are too many government ninjas on your heels to turn and fight them, until finally you lose them by leaping from a building onto a moving train. It's moments like these where the game is the best - while mucking about on rooftops is fun for a time, it doesn't compare to the segments where you're chased across rooftops and through buildings, and survive by the skin of your teeth.

The pacing of the game is problematic too. While there are some expansive indoor settings, a lot of the indoor sections involve slow paced jumping puzzles, and as if that wasn't bad enough also too frequent elevator rides and vent crawling. At least twice a level you're asked to crawl painfully slowly through a ventilation shaft, or spent half a minute standing still in a lift. For a game that the developers acknowledged was all about building momentum it seems an odd gameplay choice. It's akin to demanding that Need for Speed players stop at stop signs, and slow down for pedestrian crossings - it needlessly destroys the entire point of the game. To round out my criticism with some minor niggles, there are segments where the game forces the player into combat, which again messes with the pacing, and the game is also on the short side.

I feel like I may have come across as too critical. Mirror's Edge is a good game. It looks good, it plays well on the whole. It's worth a play at least for the novel concept and art style. Pacing issues aside my real problems with the game are that it doesn't realise its true potential. While it's a good game it falls short of lasting brilliance, instead only sharing a few flirtacious moments and then disappearing back into the crowd of titles that were fun but could have been amazing.