Game of Thrones: Luis Suarez is our very own Tyrion Lannister

IT has become fashionable to condemn Luis Suarez, in the same way that it’s fashionable to have a favourite Game of Thrones character.

In case you’re wondering, mine is Tyrion Lannister.

This isn’t because Peter Dinklage is an amazing actor, but because his is probably the single-most misunderstood character in the series.

Tyrion isn’t physically incapable, as his harem will attest to, but his height (or lack thereof) makes him look so. His father calls him a ‘curse’, an incapable military strategist, when he is clearly not. His sister chides him for his apparent lack of political nous, when the audience clearly knows how well he has managed the manipulation of his family’s current state.

Luis is not misunderstood to those same levels. Up and down the country they all want to have Luis in their teams. He is a troublemaker, sure, but he doesn’t cause trouble within the team, not with his colleagues. He doesn’t do training ground bust-ups, he doesn’t slander his clubs to the media. He doesn’t complain of exhaustion.

He doesn’t get himself into assault and affray charges.

I explore this misunderstanding of Suarez below, using three angles that I have seen been used in his case.

And you will see why I think they are wrong. And by the way, what are your opinions?

The ‘Holier Than Thou’ Club:

In the aftermath of the bite, club legend Graeme Souness suggested to Sky Sports that Luis’ bite was “…an incredible act of brutality”. I’m sorry Graeme, I know you don’t know me nor care, but using those words is an incredible act of exaggeration.

Brutality would have been if Luis, in celebrating his last minute equaliser, had ripped a seat out of the Kop stand and smashed it over the head of Ivanovic and his colleagues. Acts of political violence are incredibly brutal, as are glassing in pub-fights and slave labour in the Russian Gulags.

Speaking of which, this was the same man who (as Manager no less!) sprinted to the centre-circle to plant a Galatasaray flag after a two-legged derby victory at Fenerbahçe’s ?ükrü Saraco?lu Stadium in 1996. In a combustible football culture like Turkey, suffice it to say it set off ‘a little rioting’.

Such instances of literal flag-waving jingoism might look a lot sexier than biting an unsuspecting player’s arm, but it puts a lot more people in danger. Can I call it ‘incredible irresponsibility’ Graeme? A ‘catalyst to crowd brutality’ maybe?

Former pros like Graeme Souness, who obviously possess a multi-layered perspective of what happens on the pitch should perhaps try and exercise the same subtleties off it.

The ‘He Needs Our Help’ Club:

Perhaps equally misguided in his analysis was Guillem Balague, the excellent Spanish football pundit and erstwhile ‘slim Rafa Benitez’ lookalike.

He reckons Luis acted based on a “…deeply ingrained cultural behaviour that is difficult to get rid of when you are full of adrenaline.”

If I didn’t know Mr. Balague to be a more intelligent man, I could accuse him, and let me phrase it kindly, of ‘cultural insensitivity’…
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Are we talking about the ingrained street-fighter culture of the dusty Montevideo streets, not always kitted out in football boots? Or are we referring to his once-upon-a-time poverty, and as one of seven children brought up by a single mum?

Has anyone commended him for not diving anymore? And while we’re at it, how many condemnations of Gareth Bale and his addiction to turf do we see?

This is not a cultural thing. Not all South Americans emerging from its favelas and barrios need to be tarred with this brush. It is subconsciously racist, and misguidedly ignorant.

The ‘If I Had Done That’ Club:

So far we’ve seen the grammar school Principal approach that Souness seems to have adopted and the new age cultural navel-gazing of Balague. There is a third, more apparently ‘medical’ approach to this of course, and that is that Luis is ‘ill’.

Its proponents back it up with that old chestnut: “If I did that out on the street I’d be stuck in jail, or the loony bin”.

That’s a faulty argument for one big reason: environment.

If Suarez was not on a pitch, and had a ‘blowout’, say because the man in front of him at his local Tesco’s brought 20 items to the 5-or-less aisle, or his nanny was late by a whole hour, suffice it to say he wouldn’t bite their arms.

Not even if he had the exact same chemical reactions going off in his brain like the ones at Anfield.

No. He would probably scream or loudly swear in Spanish. Or stomp off.

The point is this: his aggression and excitement only manifested itself as a bite because it was the football field, not in spite of it.

There are hyper-performing bosses whom we admire and fear at the same time. They might belittle or cut loose on colleagues whom we respect and admire, when they have fired someone for instance, or how they have rudely dismissed their employees’ work at meetings.

What is to say these alpha-bosses would not head-butt or bite or two-footed tackle on a football field?

Specific environments, after all, cause specific behaviour.

You see Luis, we want you at LFC. Not because of the goals. Sporting performance alone does not trump Liverpool’s heavy respect for the game.

Luis, we want you because you love us, because you are creating a new sporting identity. You are young, you are fiery, and you are hungry. Not for opponents’ limbs, but for the 50-50s, the headers, the front-third pressure.

The great qualities you offer far outstrip these moments when the light goes out.

So, take time to process all this.

We know what you are, we know what you are,

Luis Suarez, we know what you are…

A bloody superstar.

(Next week I will furnish you with why I think Luis is the way he is. I warn you, the answer might be surprisingly human…)
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