Quotes of the Day

Here's the question of the week: what do the indian general election and the battle over a stake in Liverpool Football Club have in common? The answer: globalization is not an irresistible force. In India, the prosperity that has accrued to those who are part of the global economy was not enough to secure a victory for the political party that had boasted of India's shining high-technology sector. In Liverpool, an attempt by Thailand's Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra to purchase 30% of the club was—according to a poll in a local newspaper—opposed by 87% of the Reds' fans, who instead wanted the club's board to accept a rival offer from Steve Morgan, a local boy made good. (As TIME went to press, the bidding war's outcome remained unclear.)

In the grand scheme of things, of course, the Indian election is the bigger story, but the struggle for control of Liverpool is just as colorful and illuminating. (I had better declare an interest. Both my parents were born within a stone's throw of Liverpool's stadium, and I have been a rabid fan since I could walk.)

Because sporting events are now beamed all over the world—I can watch Liverpool play live on TV in my Hong Kong apartment—it's natural to assume that sports has become a symbol of the ways in which people in places far apart share the same tastes and passions. But this is an illusion. Few sports and fewer sporting events have a truly global reach. In the U.S., most people, if asked, would tell you that Porto is a drink and Formula 1 a hair-care product. Bill Belichick may have revolutionized American football, but he could walk through the streets of Seoul or São Paulo unrecognized. Baseball's appeal is limited to North America, some (but not all) of the Caribbean islands, the northern littoral of South America, Japan, South Korea and Taiwan. Cricket is played in the countries that were once part of the British Empire and has a few odd devotees in the Netherlands. Even the Olympic Games are not a truly global event, because my Olympics are not your Olympics. If you're a Western European, the Games is a track-and-field championship, while for American TV viewers it's a reason to go all gooey-eyed over winsome teenage gymnasts, and for Turks it's a celebration of weight lifting. True, a few stars transcend their sports and a regional base. Babe Ruth, Pelé and Michael Jordan did so, and today I'd put David Beckham, Lance Armstrong and Tiger Woods in the same category—but very few others manage that trick.

Outside soccer's World Cup—and even that isn't yet big news in North America or the Indian subcontinent—there are only two exceptions to the rule that sport isn't global. They are the National Basketball Association of the U.S. and the English Premier League. Both organizations recruit worldwide—the NBA now has players from 33 different nations on its roster, while on any given Saturday a 16-man Liverpool squad can include footballers of 10 nationalities. Both leagues provide exciting, all-action games of the kind that offend purists. And both have targeted Asia for growth. Last year the NBA sent stars and cheerleaders to China in the off-season, while Premier League clubs have got into the habit of raking in big bucks from preseason tours of Asia. Indeed, one reason that Real Madrid was prepared to pay Manchester United $41 million last year for Beckham—a god in Asia—was so that the Spanish club could market itself more aggressively in the Far East.

Until recently, the conventional wisdom on all this was that fans didn't care where their players came from so long as their team won. The delirious supporters of the Sacramento Kings don't distinguish between Vlade Divac and Peja Stojakovic—both Serbs—and other team stars. Even a club's ownership seems to be immaterial to its support.

I don't remember many Chelsea fans complaining when Russian billionaire Roman Abramovich bought their London football club last year; what counted was the size of his pocketbook and the amount that he was prepared to spend on talent. (Of course, Chelsea's supporters have always been a mercenary lot.)

But the popular opposition in Liverpool to the attempt by Thaksin to buy part of the club suggests this tolerance of globalization has its limits. I very much doubt that those who don't want Thaksin's money care two hoots about his political record or the fact that he seems willing to invest Thai public funds in the club. What counts is that there is a local alternative on the table, from a lifelong fan who worked his way up from bricklayer to construction magnate. When they have a choice, it turns out, people will sometimes reject those associated with the glitzy world of global capitalism in favor of the familiar. That, you could argue, is what happened when Indians turned back to the Congress Party and the Gandhi dynasty.

Me, I don't care who owns Liverpool. But ye gods, we need another creative midfielder, quick.

• Michael Elliott
• Liverpool's English fans don't fancy the idea of Thai Prime Minister Thaksin buying a stake in their football club. So much for the irresistible forces of globalization