Culture
The impact of being only player from your country to play in the Premier League
Gunnar Nielsen’s Premier League career was brief.
Extremely brief, in fact: it lasted 17 minutes. The goalkeeper was introduced as a late substitute for Manchester City against Arsenal in 2010 after Shay Given had aggravated a shoulder injury he picked up a week earlier when diving in vain for Paul Scholes’s late winner in the Manchester derby.
But it was a big deal back home. Those 17 minutes represented the first — and only — time a player from the Faroe Islands had played in the Premier League. It was such a big deal that a local radio station couldn’t even wait until the game had finished to call his brother for some reaction. Happily, Nielsen kept a clean sheet, avoiding the decidedly awkward prospect of his brother having to offer some live, on-air comment on an embarrassing blunder.
“He was so nervous he couldn’t say a word,” Nielsen says now. “He just gave the phone to my sister-in-law.”
Nielsen is part of an unusual little club of players, a group that was joined recently by new City signing Abdukodir Khusanov, the defender from Uzbekistan: they are two of 18 men to be the only players from their respective countries to make an appearance in the Premier League.
Neilsen made his only Premier League appearance in April 2010 (Neil Tingle – PA Images via Getty Images)
So as you can imagine, it was pretty big news in the Faroes when Nielsen made his appearance. TV and radio coverage was a given, but his almost literal 15 minutes of fame was the talk of the town. “I spoke to a bouncer at a nightclub who I knew,” Nielsen says. “He said the only thing everybody spoke about on that Saturday evening was how I made my appearance in the Premier League.
“It was such a big thing when it happened. I remember people were sending me pictures and texting me and calling me — to this day I meet people who still say they remember where they were at that exact time when I came on.”
Khusanov is the second player to join the club this season, after Ipswich Town striker Ali Al-Hamadi became the first Iraqi to grace the division when he came on in the opening game of the season against Liverpool.
For the sake of completeness, the others are: Victor Wanyama (Kenya), Henrikh Mkhitaryan (Armenia), Onel Hernandez (Cuba), Junior Firpo (Dominican Republic), Nathaniel Mendez-Laing (Guatemala), Danny Higginbotham (Gibraltar), Ryan Donk (Suriname), Ali Al-Habsi (Oman), Jordi Amat (Indonesia), Hamza Choudhury (Bangladesh), Dylan Kerr (Malta), Mbwana Samatta (Tanzania), Frederic Nimani (Central African Republic), Neil Etheridge (Philippines) and Zesh Rehman (Pakistan).
By definition, the nations on that list are not traditional football powerhouses. Some of the players had a slight leg-up, given that they were born and raised in bigger or more recognisable football environments, but played for another country due to a familial connection. Amat, Choudhury, Rehman, Etheridge, Hernandez, Firpo, Mendez-Laing, Higginbotham and Donk fall into that category.
But some of the others grew up in surroundings where there simply weren’t any role models to show them the path to one of Europe’s big leagues. They are trailblazers.
“You need to see someone that’s done it before,” Nielsen tells The Athletic. “We’re closely connected to Denmark, so you’re looking up to players from there, but (not having a Faroese example) did not make it easier. There hadn’t been anyone in the Premier League from the Faroe Islands, and even though there were some young players who had been on youth contracts at some Premier League clubs, there wasn’t anyone to look up to in that sense.”
Wanyama didn’t have a compatriot to show him the path to the Premier League either but he was lucky in that he, at least, did have some more immediate role models, such as his brother, McDonald Mariga, who joined Parma in Serie A when Wanyama was 16. Before that, Wanyama followed Mariga to Helsingborgs in Sweden, briefly returning home when the elder brother went to Italy, before properly starting his European journey with Beerschot, in Belgium. It also didn’t hurt that his father, Noah, played for and coached Nairobi-based side AFC Leopards.
Wanyama playing for Tottenham in 2019 (Shaun Botterill/Getty Images)
“I grew up in a football family,” Wanyama tells The Athletic. “I used to watch the Premier League — I grew up watching those games. When I was 11, I was already dreaming about being there one day. I loved Roy Keane and Paul Scholes.
“My father was a coach, my brother played: it was something very deep. It was in our blood. I wanted to play on the biggest stage. I was aware the Premier League was the toughest league in the world. I knew it would be tough to get into, which motivated me.”
Etheridge’s situation was slightly different. Born and raised in England, the goalkeeper qualified to play for the Philippines through his mother. He would travel to the Philippines fairly regularly growing up but, for various reasons, didn’t go back for years. Then, at 18, his former team-mates in the Chelsea youth team and Filipino internationals James and Phil Younghusband suggested him for a place in the squad too. He made his debut in 2008, has clocked up more than 80 caps and was named national team captain in 2022.
Neil Etheridge in action for Cardiff against Manchester City in 2019 (Oli Scarff / AFP)
“I just felt a connection with the country and the people,” Etheridge says from Thailand, where he is now playing. “The Philippines is an extremely proud country. The culture and blood runs through you. I was only 18, but I saw a chance to make a change in a country that is not necessarily football-orientated. Basketball is the No 1 sport. Back then, football wasn’t really a sport that was recognised.”
He’s not kidding. They had sunk to 195th in the world around the time Etheridge was first called up, and had little to no record in international competition. Their highest ranking in the intervening years of 111 might not seem great, but they qualified for the Asian Cup for the first time in 2019 and made it to the second round of qualifying for the 2014 World Cup, again the first time the team had gone that far.
Etheridge achieved most of this before playing in the Premier League for the first time, eventually doing so in 2017 after winning promotion with Cardiff. “It was a massive deal,” he says. “Although it wasn’t as big as if a Filipino played in the NBA, and Manny Pacquiao is the No 1 sportsperson in the country by a country mile. I was probably more recognised as the first South East Asian player to play in the Premier League, rather than the first Filipino.
“I’ve been able to do a lot of first. In 2010, we reached the semi-finals of the South East Asian Cup (AFF Cup) for the first time and that was when football blew up in the Philippines. Even now, 15 years later, it’s still in infant stages, but it’s something I’m proud to be a part of, to put football on the map in the country.”
National identity can be a slightly complicated, non-binary and sometimes fluid thing, so it’s worth offering some parameters: the players are defined as being ‘from’ their particular country either if they were born there and haven’t represented another country, or if they have represented that country at full international level.
There are some curiosities on the list. The Premier League has seen several players who were born in Suriname and went on to represent the Netherlands (Regi Blinker, Edgar Davids, Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink), but Donk, the only player to represent Suriname, was born in the Netherlands.
A few on the list weren’t classed as being from their respective nations while playing in the Premier League. Higginbotham played a few games for Gibraltar, but those were a long time after his Southampton/Sunderland/Stoke City pomp. Mendez-Laing’s debut for Guatemala came when he was in League One with Derby, a few years after his top-flight days with Cardiff.
Danny Higginbotham back in his playing days for Stoke City in 2010 (Mike Egerton/PA Images via Getty Images)
Then there are the grey areas, such as former Brighton & Hove Albion midfielder Mahmoud Dahoud, who is counted on some lists as Syria’s sole representative. He was born in Syria and raised in Germany, for whom he played two friendlies in 2020 so was thus regarded as German while in England. However, in 2024, he switched allegiance to the nation of his birth and was called up to Syria’s squad… only to pull out before actually playing. He may still represent them in the future, but we’re not counting him for now.
Then there’s Equatorial Guinea. Emilio Nsue, who was born and raised in Spain and made four appearances for Middlesbrough in the Premier League, played 45 times for Equatorial Guinea between 2013 and 2024 and won the Golden Boot at the 2023 Africa Cup of Nations. However, he might not count, as in 2024 FIFA ruled he had been ineligible the whole time.
Back in 2013, the Equatoguinean Football Federation applied to their Spanish counterparts for Nsue to switch nationalities (he had made several competitive appearances for various Spain youth teams), but to say the least there were some irregularities with the process. They defaulted two 2014 World Cup qualifying games due to Nsue’s ineligibility, but they kept picking him anyway, and did so at various intervals over the following decade. It genuinely seems that FIFA only noticed due to his heroics at AFCON, at which point they declared his whole international career null and void.
So…does he count? Are we getting into a weird, metaphysical area by acting as if Nsue’s international appearances literally never happened, rather than administratively never happened? If so Pedro Obiang, the only other Equatorial Guinea international, becomes the 19th individual on this list. But for now, we’ll go with tangible reality and credit Equatorial Guinea with two Premier League players.
Of course, the Premier League is not the pinnacle for everyone. It’s not necessarily the case that every player slept on Barclays bed sheets and their only desire as a kid was to play in England.
Take Wanyama, for example. “It was a bigger deal to play for Celtic,” he says, “because it was the team I grew up supporting. Particularly in the Glasgow derby.”
For most of these players, playing in the Premier League was a source of personal pride, but the hope is they can be the inspiration and role model that they didn’t have when they were younger.
“Without wanting to blow my own trumpet,” says Etheridge, “if it wasn’t for me and the success I’ve had, there would be a lot of football players who wouldn’t have had a career in the game. A lot of people wouldn’t even have known that the Philippines had a team, if it wasn’t for the likes of myself, and the success I had later in my career, playing in the Premier League, being able to really enhance our national team. There are a lot of people around the world who have decided to play for the Philippines because they now know what the Philippines national team is.”
Wanyama adds: “I’m proud if I have made young players dream, to believe in themselves that they could play in the Premier League one day. Now everyone wants to be there, and they know the door is open to them. They believe they can do it too.”
(Top photos: Getty Images)
Culture
I Think This Poem Is Kind of Into You
A famous poet once observed that it is difficult to get the news from poems. The weather is a different story. April showers, summer sunshine and — maybe especially — the chill of winter provide an endless supply of moods and metaphors. Poets like to practice a double meteorology, looking out at the water and up at the sky for evidence of interior conditions of feeling.
The inner and outer forecasts don’t always match up. This short poem by Louise Glück starts out cold and stays that way for most of its 11 lines.
And then it bursts into flame.
“Early December in Croton-on-Hudson” comes from Glück’s debut collection, “Firstborn,” which was published in 1968. She wrote the poems in it between the ages of 18 and 23, but they bear many of the hallmarks of her mature style, including an approach to personal matters — sex, love, illness, family life — that is at once uncompromising and elusive. She doesn’t flinch. She also doesn’t explain.
Here, for example, Glück assembles fragments of experience that imply — but also obscure — a larger narrative. It’s almost as if a short story, or even a novel, had been smashed like a glass Christmas ornament, leaving the reader to infer the sphere from the shards.
We know there was a couple with a flat tire, and that a year later at least one of them still has feelings for the other. It’s hard not to wonder if they’re still together, or where they were going with those Christmas presents.
To some extent, those questions can be addressed with the help of biographical clues. The version of “Early December in Croton-on-Hudson” that appeared in The Atlantic in 1967 was dedicated to Charles Hertz, a Columbia University graduate student who was Glück’s first husband. They divorced a few years later. Glück, who died in 2023, was never shy about putting her life into her work.
But the poem we are reading now is not just the record of a passion that has long since cooled. More than 50 years after “Firstborn,” on the occasion of receiving the Nobel Prize for literature, Glück celebrated the “intimate, seductive, often furtive or clandestine” relations between poets and their readers. Recalling her childhood discovery of William Blake and Emily Dickinson, she declared her lifelong ardor for “poems to which the listener or reader makes an essential contribution, as recipient of a confidence or an outcry, sometimes as co-conspirator.”
That’s the kind of poem she wrote.
“Confidence” can have two meanings, both of which apply to “Early December in Croton-on-Hudson.” Reading it, you are privy to a secret, something meant for your ears only. You are also in the presence of an assertive, self-possessed voice.
Where there is power, there’s also risk. To give voice to desire — to whisper or cry “I want you” — is to issue a challenge and admit vulnerability. It’s a declaration of conquest and a promise of surrender.
What happens next? That’s up to you.
Culture
Can You Identify Where the Winter Scenes in These Novels Took Place?
Cold weather can serve as a plot point or emphasize the mood of a scene, and this week’s literary geography quiz highlights the locations of recent novels that work winter conditions right into the story. Even if you aren’t familiar with the book, the questions offer an additional hint about the setting. To play, just make your selection in the multiple-choice list and the correct answer will be revealed. At the end of the quiz, you’ll find links to the books if you’d like to do further reading.
Culture
From NYT’s 10 Best Books of 2025: A.O. Scott on Kiran Desai’s New Novel
When a writer is praised for having a sense of place, it usually means one specific place — a postage stamp of familiar ground rendered in loving, knowing detail. But Kiran Desai, in her latest novel, “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny,” has a sense of places.
This 670-page book, about the star-crossed lovers of the title and several dozen of their friends, relatives, exes and servants (there’s a chart in the front to help you keep track), does anything but stay put. If “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny” were an old-fashioned steamer trunk, it would be papered with shipping labels: from Allahabad (now known as Prayagraj), Goa and Delhi; from Queens, Kansas and Vermont; from Mexico City and, perhaps most delightfully, from Venice.
There, in Marco Polo’s hometown, the titular travelers alight for two chapters, enduring one of several crises in their passionate, complicated, on-again, off-again relationship. One of Venice’s nicknames is La Serenissima — “the most serene” — but in Desai’s hands it’s the opposite: a gloriously hectic backdrop for Sonia and Sunny’s romantic confusion.
Their first impressions fill a nearly page-long paragraph. Here’s how it begins.
Sonia is a (struggling) fiction writer. Sunny is a (struggling) journalist. It’s notable that, of the two of them, it is she who is better able to perceive the immediate reality of things, while he tends to read facts through screens of theory and ideology, finding sociological meaning in everyday occurrences. He isn’t exactly wrong, and Desai is hardly oblivious to the larger narratives that shape the fates of Sunny, Sonia and their families — including the economic and political changes affecting young Indians of their generation.
But “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny” is about more than that. It’s a defense of the very idea of more, and thus a rebuke to the austerity that defines so much recent literary fiction. Many of Desai’s peers favor careful, restricted third-person narration, or else a measured, low-affect “I.” The bookstores are full of skinny novels about the emotional and psychological thinness of contemporary life. This book is an antidote: thick, sloppy, fleshy, all over the place.
It also takes exception to the postmodern dogma that we only know reality through representations of it, through pre-existing concepts of the kind to which intellectuals like Sunny are attached. The point of fiction is to assert that the world is true, and to remind us that it is vast, strange and astonishing.
See the full list of the 10 Best Books of 2025 here.
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