The exact date escapes me, but I recall it being early 2012. Perhaps it was late 2011, I don’t know. Anyway, life as a Tottenham supporter was pretty sweet under Harry Redknapp. Despite the success of 2009/10, 2011/12 lives fonder in my memory. Bale, Modric, Van de Vaart, Adebayor, Parker; Redknapp’s Spurs at their apex.
This was also a time when transfer discourse appeared pre-historic compared to the current information overload. Jim White and his yellow tie was the Fabrizio Romano of that era. His word was gospel. However, that’s merely to contextualise the time. Twitter/X hadn’t yet emerged as a cesspit of transfer gossip, and Teletext may have still been in fashion – possibly.
So, when my dad uttered to me during an innocuous car journey that he’d heard “from a bloke down the pub” (probably) that both Gonzalo Higuain and Eden Hazard had signed pre-contracts for Harry’s showtime Lilywhites, I couldn’t help but manifest an ebullient exterior. This was massive. Hazard and Higuain in N17!
Oh, the naivety, but how utopian the Lilywhite half of north London could’ve become had the shady source from the Wheatsheaf been proven correct. Forget Higuain for a minute because even though we would’ve been spared Roberto Soldado, a certain Harry Kane may never have gotten his chance.
This is all about Hazard. The Belgian was a name I was familiar with, for sure, but the absence of Ligue 1 action on UK TV at the time meant my perhaps biased conception was based on YouTube compilations and supposed ‘scout reports’ that are accompanied by an EDM beat that always sounds the same.
It didn’t take the savviest folk to gauge the Belgian’s talent.
But instead of watching him eventually fill Gareth Bale’s void, I was subject to Hazard’s brilliance from west London. As it turns out, there may have been some truth to the pre-contract with Tottenham as he later revealed that he was tempted by Spurs, but Chelsea’s unfathomable Champions League triumph in Munich, which knocked the north Londoners out of the competition the following season, tilted the Hazard sweepstake heavily in the Blues’ favour.
I’ve grown accustomed to Chelsea poaching from us, and my distaste for the Blues grew fiercer throughout secondary school thanks to my best friend’s fandom.
This bitter rivalry, not Tom and I, but Tottenham and Chelsea, meant Hazard had become a player I wasn’t allowed to appreciate because of, well, tribalism init. However, the Belgian’s talent was so supreme that no tribalistic urges would’ve denied my admiration.
Elite-level football has long entered an era of systemisation. Coaches are superstars in their own right, and individuals are expected to coalesce for a collective utopia. It’s an ideological battle that has reared its head time and time again, particularly in the Netherlands between Johan Cruyff and Louis van Gaal.
Cruyff’s empowering of the individual completely contrasted Van Gaal’s emphasis on the collective. One facilitated ego, while the other preached its subduing. Neither outlook is right, nor wrong, but there’s no denying that Van Gaal’s school of thought currently reigns supreme.
Collective brilliance absolutely should be lauded, but the reduced focus on individualism, in my opinion, minimalises the poetic brilliance of a sport that’s long been described as ‘beautiful’. ‘The Beautiful Game’ was a phrase coined not because of the excellence of a team, but the magic of a superstar. Pele, Ronaldinho, Lionel Messi, and Neymar were/are all great proponents, as was Eden Hazard.
His low centre of gravity, wicked sharp feet, and compact frame, which included a steely backside, combined to create one of the great dribbles of the modern-day. Hazard’s inability to weave beyond opponents and bounce off challenges allowed him to embark on some unforgettable solo efforts.
The finish against Arsenal in 2017 when Francis Coquelin evolved into a Beyblade will always stand out, as does his strike against West Ham during his final season at Chelsea. These efforts came at a time when Hazard was arguably at his peak in blue.
The Belgian’s brilliance inspired Antonio Conte’s side during the Italian’s first season at the club as they lifted the title, while his 31-goal contributions in 2018/19 lifted an often insipid Maurizio Sarri-led outfit back into the Champions League.
Hazard just had a remarkable ability to turn it on, and there’s a sense of normality within him that meant he was somewhat relatable. He was never a great trainer, he despised gym work, and he supposedly loved a cheeseburger. For managers, Hazard represented both the problem and the solution.
Sure, he didn’t fancy tracking back, but you can bet your bottom dollar he’d save you at the other end. That was who the Belgian was, and no coach was ever able to change him. He won league titles under Jose Mourinho and Conte, revered for their out-of-possession ideals during their primes, but Hazard was a talent they simply had to make sacrifices for.
“People [who are] in love with football in this country – people must be in love with Eden Hazard,” Mourinho perfectly surmised in 2015 before their relationship soured. “Maybe one day we won’t have Eden Hazard,” he solemnly predicted in that same presser as he lamented a lack of referee protection. Eight years on, at the age of 32, Mourinho’s ominous projection has become reality.
A record-breaking move to Real Madrid was one Hazard deserved after establishing himself as a Premier League icon at Stamford Bridge. Sure, there were lulls, but the Belgian departed Chelsea having lifted two league titles and twice being named PFA Player of the Year. However, what should’ve been a magical time in the Spanish capital was instead compromised by an innocuous challenge from Thomas Meunier that his ankle never quite recovered from.
His disastrous stint at Madrid undoubtedly hindered his legacy, and naysayers like to bring up his Champions League record when playing down Hazard’s brilliance. 25 goal contributions, 22 of which came in the group stage, in 61 appearances isn’t the greatest of records, but how can you reduce such majesty to numbers?
Oh, and just in case you wanted numbers, here are a few for ya: Arsenal; ten goal contributions in 19 games, Man Utd; seven in 19, Man City; ten in 19, Liverpool; nine in 18, and Tottenham; nine in 17. He delivered when it mattered most, don’t you worry about that. If the numbers don’t appease sceptics, just talk them through Hazard’s World Cup campaign in Russia. An all-timer of a tournament that may well be lost in the annals because Belgium succumbed to France in the last four.
With Hazard retiring, not only are we solemnly recollecting the sad demise of a contemporary great, but football’s losing perhaps one of its last great champions of individual creative expression.
While the new breed of superstar can dazzle with their efficiency in myriad ways, the overwhelming majority at the highest level lack the balletic elegance of their majestic predecessors. The art of entertaining is becoming a lost one.
The 32-year-old’s retirement should not have hit quite as hard as it should’ve done. But, with the trauma fading from his postage-stamp effort that officially crushed Tottenham’s title dream in 2016, I can only look back at his career with fondness.
Eden Hazard was just a normal bloke who happened to be very good at the thing he loved the most: having fun.
