Sassy, God, Human and Finite: The Multiple Iterations of Gareth Bale

Megan Feringa

When it comes to Gareth Bale, there are multiple iterations.

There is jokester Bale, the one aiming water sprinklers at unsuspecting teammates, making incomprehensible noises with his best friend Wayne Hennessey in the team hotel hallways and finding the most jubilant of merriment in tapping the gaffer on his left shoulder and sprinting away to his right.

There is sassy Bale, always on hand to wind up the media with some characteristic bullish quip: No, he doesn’t have any World Cup memories as a kid because Wales weren’t in any. And no, now that you ask, not a single England player could possibly make Chris Coleman’s squad. And yes, he has “loads” of offers on the table at the moment.

Loads.

There is angry Bale, tugging at the Wales badge on his shirt and sending a bellicose howl into a shaking camera lens, evincing that, once again, no one in this world should believe they have the faintest right to speak for him.

There is, obviously, Bale that is god. Where to begin here? How about the most recent episode, when he forged a free-kick that football immortals had long deemed, or so they believed, impossible, a microcosm of the innumerable moments this man, who so oft-drifts into deity territory with just a flick of his foot, has carried an entire nation on his shoulders.

And there is Bale who is, inevitably and inescapably, human, who does not always do the things that fans — Real Madrid, Wales or any for that matter — believe he should, such as hoisting a flag with his priorities ostensibly in order, or accepting a particular award from a particular monarch.

When it comes to Bale diatribe, the temptation is to speak to one aspect of him. Not purposefully, of course, but because attempting to describe and catalogue the multiple shades of Bale, a repository of hope for an entire nation but also a bona fide footballing legend, is difficult, if not entirely impossible, particularly in the medium of a 1,500-or-so word article.

But today, on 4 June 2022, there is this Bale, the one sat in front of a suite full of baying, prying media on a gigantic Zoom call on the eve of what is – not hyperbole to consider – the biggest moment of his career.

This Bale is, technically, an hour and thirty-nine minutes late, having decided that his routine physio session would not be moved for the sake of a scheduled media session. Meaning the baying, prying media had become baying, prying and slightly impatient.

When Bale finally does arrive (via gigantic television screen), he opts, as is his prerogative, for cheerfully nonplussed and sassy. He apologises for the change in plans but “unfortunately game comes first” and enters into his usual press conference rigmarole:

When asked whether his CV is bare without a World Cup stamp: “It is.”
Whether his future hinges on this match: “No, not necessarily.”
Whether this is the biggest game in Wales’ history: “We’ve had a lot of big games.”

Bale’s cheeky ambiguity is by no means unusual. For a player who has so routinely transcended superstardom, Bale has come to mine a joy in taking the media for a spin. And the day before Wales’ World Cup play-off final against Ukraine, the man is in fine form.

Yet, underneath Bale’s usual quips and giggles, the talk of wonder goals and mooted finales, is the concurrent sense of a Bale that has not been here before, one that is – even through a Zoom screen – very nearly finite.

“Like I said, it’s still missing,” Bale reiterates when asked about his CV. “We have a game tomorrow to put that to bed and qualify. Everyone wants to play at a World Cup. It's no different for me. No different for every member of the squad, coach, staff members.

"I can play terribly tomorrow, but if Wales win tomorrow, I don't care."

And it is there that this other iteration of Bale subtly seeps into the room via the Zoom feed. A Bale that has, despite the accompanying chuckle, reached a desperate understanding that a World Cup with him in it is, officially, a now or never affair.

Because despite his five Champions League medals, his two European Championships, his Footballer of the Years, Club World Cups, Super Cups, Spanish Super Cups, Spanish Cups, La Liga titles, English League Cups and cache of silly, silly goals, Bale still thinks of a World Cup, still dreams of one. And the once quiet sense of hopeful inevitability that surrounded the image of Gareth Bale at a World Cup has finally reached its crescendo.

Bale does not allow this iteration to stick around for long. Almost instinctively, sassy Bale returns, rounding off the press conference with a sharply caustic “Yeah, loads” in response to a query on the number of offers he must be swatting away at the present moment after entering free agency.

Yet, as the room laughs, an awkwardness enters. Despite Bale’s insistence that tomorrow’s result does not determine his future (“I’m not concentrating on what lies ahead. We have a massive game tomorrow that I am focused on.”), there is the sense that Bale might have offered up his final press conference riposte. And despite the question hanging there for all to snatch at, Bale does not furnish an answer.

Because in less than 24 hours, Bale will be on the pitch, 90 minutes away from, potentially, reaching a pinnacle of success that, for so long, felt impossible for his nation, even with the possibility of incomprehensible miracles. And even he, this often-god amongst men, does not know what will occur tomorrow. To indulge in a gratuitous metaphor, it feels as if the entire footballing world has taken a sharp inhale of breath and only after tomorrow’s clash will it allow to release.

What iteration of Bale will take to tomorrow's pitch remains to be seen. If history can be counted upon for evidence, Bale the god will be chomping at the bit for his chance. Despite the scare that shook the media room as word spread that Bale would not be joining manager Rob Page for the customary Uefa presser earlier in the day -- is Bale hurt? is he un-fit? surely he can't miss tomorrow? -- Bale insisted he was utterly and completely fine.

It is his last chance. He has no other choice.