The Five Best Ever Imaginary Footballers
The world of imaginary football is a complex and ancient one, almost as complex and ancient as the sport from which it takes inspiration. Back in 1912, Stiffy the Goalkeeper (real name Harry Weldon) entertained stage audiences, while in 1930, cinemagoers watched young aspirant Dicky Brown’s struggles with Manningford FC in The Great Game. Following in this proud tradition have come comic book heroes and television stars, comedies and tragedies, parodies and satires, as football has expanded to fill every corner of the imagination. Here are five of our favourite made up footballers. In some cases, they’ve even managed to surpass the real thing in their ridiculousness.
1. Masal Bugduv
For a few months in 2009, out there on the fringes of football knowledge, among those people who pride themselves on knowing who the next big thing is before the next big thing may even know themselves, Masal Bugduv was big news. The hype spread through online forums, on to websites of varying reputations, and reached a crescendo when the 16 year old was named at No. 30 in The Times’ “Football’s Top 50 Rising Stars”. “Moldova’s finest,” apparently. “Strongly linked” with Arsenal, it says here.
Arsenal have had a few players go missing in their time, but have never yet managed to sign somebody who straightforwardly didn’t exist. Thanks to detective work from various corners of the internet, including blogger Fredorraci on Soccerlens and Brian Phillips on Slate, it emerged that Masal Bugduv was an elaborate hoax perpetrated by an Irish newspaperman, who had seeded forums and comments section with false news stories and comments. One cited Moldovan newspaper was named Diario Mo Thon, Irish for “Diary, My Arse”. And the lad’s name? A soundalike for m’asal beag dubh, Irish for “my little black donkey,” which Phillips notes just so happens to be the title of an Irish short story about a man who is tricked by gossip into overpaying for a lazy donkey.
A gorgeous, glorious, generous hoax, littered with clues and jokes, that made it all the way the to the pages of England’s paper of record and, in the process, exposed the inner workings of football coverage and the modern transfers market. Today Bugduv lives on as a punchline and a weapon for sceptical readers, and a terrible warning for writers. He even made it into academia; a paper in New Media & Society suggests that he presents “a unique lens through which the reformulation of journalistic authority in blogs can be viewed and evaluated”. Once the authors had stopped giggling, presumably.
2. Roy of the Rovers
Ten league titles, eleven FA Cups, three European Cups, and 481 career goals. Not bad going. But Roy Race, Melchester Rovers’ finest ever player, was a comic-strip character, and so in addition to his footballing exploits he was kidnapped five times, survived a mid-match earthquake, and saw his 38-year playing career—from his first appearance in 1954, through to the last weekly episode in 1993—come to an end when his left foot was amputated following a helicopter crash. More details are available in his autobiography, which a cynic might suggest was only slightly more ghosted than the average footballer’s life.
There have been plenty of great comic-strip footballers—your correspondent’s personal favourite would probably be Hot-Shot Hamish—but few have been quite as resonant as Roy. You can learn a lot about a country through the stories it tells about itself, and Roy of the Rovers, despite being entirely fictional and occasionally ludicrous, somehow manages to do as good a job of explaining English football as anything more serious or factual has ever managed. That’s because Roy is the English footballer as the English imagination insists that he should be.
He’s a working class boy who grew up playing football on the streets, unthinkingly honest and reflexively sporting, married and always loyal to his first sweetheart. Never played for any team other than his hometown club. Naturally suspicious of both foreigners and tactics. And brilliant; scorer of more late, crucial, spectacular goals that Manchester United and Steven Gerrard combined. All actual English footballers, even the sainted Bobby Moore, are imperfect reflections of his Platonic majesty.
Which isn’t necessarily a good thing. Writing in The Blizzard, Scott Murray has suggested that Racey’s comic book knack for saving the day at the last minute might have had a chilling effect on his readers. “English football spent their formative years being taught a very strange lesson: it doesn’t really matter what you do for 89 minutes, because a superhero will turn up eventually, welt the ball into the net, and you can all go home with your cups and medals.” Just as the people of Superman’s New York have no reason to look both ways when crossing the street, so Roy Race’s Englishmen have no need to think about the game. Victory’s just the stroke of a pen and the swipe of a left foot away.