Two. Now better than one.Claude Makelele is furious. ‘Zut alors!’, he bellows, as he thunders round the bowels of Clairefontaine crunching into tackles with janitors, tea ladies, hat stands and telephone tables. ‘Mark van Bommel AND Nigel de Jong?’, he growls at a postcard from Thierry Henry. ‘Schweinsteiger AND Khedira?’, he snarls at Raymond Domenech’s copy of Russell Grant’s latest book. ‘Melo AND Silva? Xabi Alonso AND Sergio Biscuits?’, he rages, kicking three of the French national squad’s under-16 players down some stairs and over a fence.
But why is the greatest holding midfielder of his generation so apoplectic?
