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Kung Fu And Collars: Why Eric Cantona Is The F*cking King

Kung Fu And Collars: Why Eric Cantona Is The F*cking King

The Philosophical French genius turns 50 today

Joe Baiamonte

Joe Baiamonte

"My best moment? I have a lot of good moments but the one I prefer is when I kicked the hooligan."

- Eric Cantona

A mercurial, Gallic genius with an unapologetic lust for serving vengeance, whether it be by silencing opposition fans with an impudent finish or by plunging a Kung Fu kick into their chest, Eric Cantona was as synonymous with skill and style as he was with violence. And it's that combustible combination that made him the King of English football in the '90s.

Cantona
Cantona

'King Eric', as Manchester United fans dubbed him almost instantaneously, such was the immediacy of the Frenchman's impact at Old Trafford, was the lightning rod Sir Alex Ferguson needed to attach to a United squad brimming with talent, but not quite enough talent to relieve 26 years of hurt without a league title. Everything went through Cantona who, now unshackled from the 'kick and rush' of Howard Wilkinson, could provide a focal point for Ryan Giggs, Andrei Kanchelskis, Paul Ince, Lee Sharpe, Mark Hughes and Brian McClair. The man from Marseille tied everyone together, laying on goals and scoring them with equal aplomb.

Speaking to FourFourTwo, Cantona said of his time at Leeds, "I had a bad relationship with the manager, Wilkinson. We didn't have the same views on football. I am more like a Manchester footballer. At Leeds, football was played the old way - I think you say kick and then rush." As a 'Manchester footballer', Cantona would add another four league titles to the one he won at Elland Road, as well as a couple of FA Cups for good measure. Yet it would be almost insulting to measure the Frenchman's talent in merely trophies alone.

Eric Cantona
Eric Cantona

Cantona's aura was always one of supreme confidence soaked with passion. His bombastic nature should come as no surprise, given that he hails from Marseille - a city immersed in culture, art and crime, a regular haunt of Cezanne and Renoir and the heroin capital of the world in the 1960's thanks to criminal enterprise 'La French'. It's perhaps fitting that the great man shares his birthday with Bob Dylan as rebellion was in Cantona's soul. His maternal Grandparents Pere and Paquita were Catalan separatists who eventually settled in France's second largest city after Pere suffered an injury to his liver while battling General Franco's army during the Spanish Civil War. Cantona would channel this Catalan spirit by moving to Barcelona for three years after he announced his retirement from football, in 1997.


English football was not a sophisticated game in the early '90s. Downtrodden by the ban from European competition following the Heysel disaster in 1985, English clubs were years behind their continental counterparts before Sky brought about the advent of the Premier League and changed the game forever. Arriving at Leeds from Nimes in 1991, Cantona arrived just in time to spearhead the influx of foreign talent that ignited a stale league. His knack for artistry paved the way for Dennis Bergkamp, Gianfranco Zola, David Ginola and Juninho to make their mark on the Premier League in the years following his arrival - a feat of trend setting English fans have been grateful for ever since. Had the former Auxerre man not made such an immediate impression, would other managers have gambled on foreign flair?

Cantona stole the attention and appreciation of United fans, despite being adorned in a shirt so despised inside Old Trafford, when he turned up for a First Division clash with Leeds United. It was six months before he signed for the Red Devils and, although the match would end 0-0, it was punctuated by a moment of brilliance, when Cantona produced an overhead kick so audacious, the United fans housed in the K Stand at Old Trafford stood up and applauded the effort. Half a year later and they'd be applauding 'King Eric's' efforts on a much more regular basis.

Cantona
Cantona

It seems unfathomable to think that Leeds, then champions of England, allowed Cantona to join their nearest rivals for less than a million pounds, in November 1992. The contrast in fortunes between the two clubs in the following six months was jaw dropping, with Alex Ferguson's men lifting the inaugural Premier League trophy and Leeds, the defending English champions, slumped in 17th place.

If his arrival had been seismic, Cantona's second season was off the scale, as the Frenchman helped himself to 25 goals, two of which, identical penalties, came in the 4-0 FA Cup final demolition of Chelsea at Wembley, putting the gloss on United's first ever domestic double. In January of the following year, when the Frenchman saw red with a petulant kick at Crystal Palace's Richard Shaw at Selhurst Park and followed it up with an encore performance so shocking it earned him an eight month ban from football, Cantona didn't grovel, he didn't seem remotely interested in forgiveness, in fact. He was pleased he'd exacted revenge on a 'hooligan' and his only regret was that "I should have punched him harder."

Cantona
Cantona

Cantona's act of defiance was, in typical fashion, followed by spellbinding philosophy that only he could have the balls to say to a packed room of journalists who were desperate for a soundbite from the star they were so desperate to shame.

"When the seagulls follow the trawler, it's because they think sardines will be thrown into the sea. Thank you very much."

In other words, the Premier League's finest player had just delivered a rather beautiful way of saying "Fuck you!" to the English media.

Cantona
Cantona

Again, a team losing Cantona's services suffered, as United surrendered their Premier League title to Blackburn Rovers and lost the FA Cup final to Everton. His presence was sorely missed, none more so than on the final game of the season at Upton Park, where Ferguson's men faltered to a 1-1 draw with West Ham and then at Wembley, where a Paul Rideout effort sent the Red Devils home from Wembley empty handed.

Talking about the aforementioned giant bollocks Cantona possessed (and likely still does), the penalty he casually placed into the corner of David James' goal in front of the Stretford End upon his return to first team duties on 1st October, 1995 exemplifies what is so magnificent about the man. Having spent eight months away from football only to return in the biggest match in English football and being tasked with rescuing your team at 2-1 down, there is no one else a star studded Manchester United team could have turned to. Not Ryan Giggs, not Paul Scholes, not Roy Keane or Andy Cole. It had to be Cantona. Seven months later, against the same opposition, a late Cantona strike would mean so much more.


Some strikers are great scorers of goals, others are scorers of great goals. Cantona was both. His 82 United goals all seemed to mean something, whether it was winning a game, proving a point to the opposition or merely typifying his genius. Against Wimbledon during the 1993/94 season, Vinnie Jones attempted to send a message to his French foe by thundering into oblivion at the first available opportunity. Whereas most players would have checked to see if both their legs were still attached below the knees, Cantona rose to his feet as if he'd just tripped over his own bootlaces, dusted himself off and promptly twatted a 25 yard volley into the top corner.

During his final return to Elland Road, a 4-0 victory over Leeds in 1996, Cantona bundled a penalty wide, much to the delight of the home fans. The collar still remained up, the chest puffed out. You'd think he'd just scored and not embarrassingly scuffed his effort off target. Later on, the Gallic genius put the icing on the cake by tapping in the fourth of United's goals and celebrated by basking in the bile and hatred being spewed in his direction from the terraces. Once more, an emphatic "fuck you!" had been delivered.


I could dedicate another thousand words to THAT Sunderland goal alone, but the footage speaks for itself.

Typically, with a few good years apparently ahead of him still, Cantona called quits on his career in 1997, aged just 31. Once more, his absence was followed by a barren period at Old Trafford, as Arsenal swept the Premier League and FA Cup in 1997/98. Did the 'King' transition into coaching or punditry? Did he shite. Naturally, a career in beach football, the most luxurious and lackadaisical of all sports followed.

Cantona
Cantona

After that came the growth of a fair amount of facial hair and an introduction to the world of independent and art house cinema, most notably with Ken Loach's 'Looking For Eric':

In a world where the nearest a Manchester United player comes to acting is Wayne Rooney looking puzzled and asking "Apocawho!?" in an advert for the newest X-Men film, Cantona is akin to a footballing Marlon Brando who, as he turns 50 today, could be set to enter the next act of his Hollywood worthy life story.

WORDS BY @JoeBaia

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Topics: Football, Manchester United, Eric Cantona