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
Book Review: ‘The Fisherman’s Gift,’ by Julia R. Kelly

THE FISHERMAN’S GIFT, by Julia R. Kelly
“The Fisherman’s Gift” begins with a child washed up on a Scottish beach after a storm in 1900. A fisherman, Joseph, finds the boy, and carries him through the local village, Skerry Sands, past the shop where the novel’s Greek chorus of housewives gather, to the minister, who in time entrusts the boy to the schoolteacher Dorothy. Dorothy’s own son, Moses, disappeared in a similar storm several years earlier when he was just 6 years old. In an early sign of the novel’s difficulties, this stranger child is sometimes uncannily like and at other moments obviously different from Moses.
While the boy is with Dorothy, the story of Moses’ conception, birth and disappearance returns to the center of village life and conversation. Dorothy is not a Skerry native; she moved to the fishing village to teach, and her limited social skills and professional status meant that she has remained an outsider, especially after the breakdown of her marriage to a village man, and after she raised and lost her child in the community. She has remained aloof from the village women; in turn they regard her with suspicion and resentment, particularly for her ambiguous relationship with the otherwise eligible Joseph.
The novel’s plot is simple: A stranger comes to town, and then a stranger child comes to town. It’s a good engine for unraveling the stories buried in an isolated village, and in “The Fisherman’s Gift” there are many tales lurking underneath the animating mystery. They include the daughter of a violent marriage resisting her own violent husband; several women more and less maddened by grief for sons and brothers lost at sea; mothers with too many children and some with children lost; men struggling to fulfill their required roles on land and sea.
The village of Skerry is nicely realized, and Kelly describes the sea and weather vividly. The story is well paced and the dialogue strong, always a challenge with dialect speech from long ago.
But there are flaws in craft and focus. The omniscient narrator treads heavily, often in prominent sentence fragments pointing out the obvious. A chapter begins, “And there are other things she must face in this moment of truth in her life.” A paragraph between two reflections is, “How much has happened since.” These things shouldn’t, and in fact don’t, need flagging. And there are repetitions of images and phrases, to which we are all prone but they shouldn’t make it to publication. Three times someone’s instinct for mishap is compared to “the way you know when you knock at a door that no one’s home.” Small matters, maybe, but the cumulative effect is a distracting clumsiness.
Furthermore, there is fundamental indecision about what kind of book this is. The novel gestures toward fable and fantasy, first hinted at with an epigraph from Yeats’s “The Stolen Child.” Fine; there are some excellent recent novels that play with North Atlantic folklore to explore community, individualism and the powers of the natural world.
But “The Fisherman’s Gift” invokes the supernatural and then strives to provide realist explanations at every turn. The story depends heavily on coincidences, including a minor character apparently brought in solely to fall off a bicycle with an important telegram as Dorothy happens to be passing. A full investment in folklore would obviate the need for such far-fetched events. And still there are clunky omens (lucky wedding salt spilled as Dorothy’s ill-fated husband carries her over the threshold on her wedding day, dreams and sleepwalking that foreshadow disaster) and a central resolution in supernatural terms.
This feels, in the end, like a promising novel that needed more conviction. It is not without strengths — the characters and setting are memorable — but the magic and rationalism undermine each other, leaving the reader frustrated by both.
THE FISHERMAN’S GIFT | By Julia R. Kelly | Simon & Schuster | 355 pp. | $28.99
Culture
The funniest 2025 March Madness bracket names: Picking our favorites

There’s not too much shame in a botched March Madness bracket. The NCAA Tournament is compressed chaos in single elimination, upsets are part of the game, and only one entrant can actually win it all.
What we can’t forgive is a lazy, uninspired bracket name.
The men’s and women’s tournaments give us a wealth of punnable school, player and coach names to choose from — even an arena or two. Here are this correspondent’s favorite puns and frivolities for 2025 bracket names. Give us yours in the comments below.
Men’s
Ok, Broomer — For those who see Auburn as an inevitability, go with their star, Johni Broome. These are not your postwar Tigers.
Green Flaggs — A lot of folks will swipe right on the Blue Devils if their megastar Cooper Flagg is healthy.
Lipsey’s Hustle — The marathon continues for Tamin Lipsey, Iowa State and the Fightin’ Otzelbergers.
Knuck If You Buzz — Texas A&M head coach Buzz Williams has the sheer intensity and righteous passion of prime Lil Scrappy.
Let’s Get Oweh From It All — To Kentucky’s Otega Oweh: “Let’s take a boat to Bermuda, let’s take a plane to Lexington.”
Yes, UConn — For the Huskies believers.
No, UConn’t — For people who actually watched UConn this season.
Creighton for a Star to Fall — The name whispered on the wind was, in fact, “Ryan Kalkbrenner.”
Caleb Love and Basketball — For what? Our hearts, of course. And an Arizona run.
Caleb Grillz — Missouri bucket-getter Caleb Grill has his whole top diamond and the bottom row gold … we think.
Littlejohn and the Eastside Boyz — Chase Hunter and Clemson have forced their tourney seeding to Get Low. Looking to bring some hardware back to Littlejohn Coliseum.
Frankie Fidler on the Roof — To life, to life, to Sparty. Tevye would’ve trusted Michigan State’s Tom Izzo in March.
Love (Ma)shack — It’s a lil’ old place where we can get together … and make Alabama really upset. Tennessee’s Jahmai Mashack had one of the coolest moments of this college season.
LJ Cryer and the Infinite Sadness — A [Houston] Cougar with Butterfly Wings. Underestimate whatever that is at your own peril.
Queen’s Gambit — Maryland’s freshman center Derik Queen is the tallest, fleetest turtle we’ve ever seen.
Kameron Presents…the (Golden) Diplomats — Based on Marquette’s guard Kameron Jones. Does that make David Joplin Juelz Santana?
Silkk Da Shaka — Another great Marquette play.
Toppin My Collar — For those both appreciating Texas Tech’s resurgence (and star JT Toppin) and wishing it was 2005 again.
“What Are You Doing in My Swamp?!”— The Florida Gators would win and cover against Lord Farquaad.
Rick Pitino’s Bodega Corner — The Johnnies have taken New York by (red) storm.
Throw it Down, Big Man —For those wanting to honor the late Bill Walton.
One Shining Moment — For those wanting to honor the late Greg Gumbel.
Grant Nelson’s Mustache — In celebration of the sport’s modern canon.
The Parentheses Preferers — Who needs brackets? Proper punctuation prevents poor performance.
Tar Heels and Glass Slippers — Maybe, just maybe, there’s someone out there who has UNC making a Cinderella turn.
The Floor Slappers Federation — Yup, it’s about that time.
Women’s
Elementary, My Dear Watkins — For those who fashion JuJu Watkins and the Trojans as “A Study in Scarlet.”
JuJu Fruit — We’re sweet on JuJu and USC.
For Bueckers or Worse — Paige Bueckers is the superstar, but Sarah Strong and Azzi Fudd also balled out this year.
For Auriemma, Forever Ago — Do we think UConn’s iconic coach, Geno Auriemma, knows who or what Bon Iver is?
Place Your Betts — UCLA and Lauren Betts could certainly cash out after their inspired Big Ten tourney performance.
Dawn and On — South Carolina and Dawn Staley pursue their fourth national title of this era. We’ll take every opportunity to hear more Erykah Badu.
Boom Boom Paopao — The WNBA-bound Gamecock Te-Hina Paopao is so 3008.
The Van, The Lith, The Legend — TCU’s superstar Hailey Van Lith just put in work as the MVP of the Big 12 Tournament.
Hidalgo To Bed — Don’t sleep on Notre Dame (or Hannah Hidalgo) despite the late-season slump.
Came Out a Beast — Flau’jae Johnson is nice on the boards and in the booth.
Taylor Jones’ Block Party — Everyone’s invited. Texas is tough in the frontcourt.
Wes is Moore — A guiding mantra. NC State’s sideline strategist Wes Moore is the ACC’s Coach of the Year.
Lawson’s Creek — For those switching over to Duke (coached by Kara Lawson) after their conference tournament title. Casting recommendation: Michelle Williams as Toby Fournier.
O.K., Sooner — We brought it back one time for those rolling with Raegan Beers and Oklahoma.
(Illustration: Kelsea Petersen / The Athletic; Harry How / Getty Images, Grant Halverson / Getty Images, Kevin C. Cox / Getty Images)
Culture
Book Review: ‘The Buffalo Hunter Hunter,’ by Stephen Graham Jones

THE BUFFALO HUNTER HUNTER, by Stephen Graham Jones
Stephen Graham Jones’s new novel would give Gen. Philip Sheridan fits. The Civil War officer is often cited as the source of one of the most infamous sayings in American history, “The only good Indian is a dead Indian,” and there are dozens if not hundreds of dead Indians in “The Buffalo Hunter Hunter.” There’s also a very long-living or, more accurately, undead one who opines: “What I am is the Indian who can’t die. I’m the worst dream America ever had.” Take that, General!
Good Stab is an Indigenous man from the Blackfeet tribe living in Montana around the time of the 1870 Marias Massacre, when U.S. Army troops killed nearly 200 unarmed women, children and elderly members of the Blackfeet Nation, a tragedy that figures in a multitude of ways throughout this gruesome joyride of a novel.
One day, Good Stab is caught in a violent encounter with a wagon train of white settlers holding a supernatural being in a cage. The strange, humanish creature is bloodthirsty, death-defying, antagonistic, charismatic and chatty. He’s called the Cat Man, and he’s a centuries-old vampire. During an ensuing skirmish with the white settlers, the Cat Man is freed and his blood gets mixed into a wounded Good Stab, who then becomes a bloodsucker as well.
Now released, the Cat Man preys on Good Stab’s tribe, which enrages Good Stab, leading to decades of conflict between the two. All the while, each is on a near-perpetual quest for vengeance against white settlers and for survival in 19th-century Montana.
None of this will be any surprise to readers of Jones’s past fiction, which has confidently mashed up various horror genres with pointed explorations of Native American experience. But two features stand out with his latest: first, the particular terms of vampiric living.
Rather than cloaked, castled mystery and wealthy Eurotrash vibes (familiar features of the vampire story, from Bram Stoker’s “Dracula” in 1897 through to Robert Eggers’s remake of “Nosferatu” in 2024), the monsters in “The Buffalo Hunter Hunter” are High Plains eternal drifters who have to drain their victims completely to remain vital. Moreover, in a mordant deep joke on the saying that you are what you eat, Cat Man and Good Stab inevitably take on the attributes of their victims, whether humans or animals.
Dante would be pleased with the situation Jones has created, though social justice-oriented readers looking for an easy-to-cheer-for BIPOC vigilante be warned: Good Stab can only defend his people and carry out vengeance on behalf of the Blackfeet by, as the novel’s title suggests, killing and feeding on lots and lots of Native Americans himself.
And his Blackfeet victims aren’t just fellow warriors in the midst of battles, either. In one case, Good Stab gorges on a child after crawling into the lodge of a sleeping family. First he quietly bites into her throat. “I didn’t think she could scream anymore, but I didn’t want her mother to have to see this,” he observes. But his remorse means little compared with his sudden insight: The younger the person he blood-sucks dry, the stronger he becomes. Cat Man already knows this, which leads to a wrenching climactic encounter with Good Stab that recalls the awful dilemma at the center of Ursula K. Le Guin’s story “The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas.”
The consequences of this showdown stay with Good Stab forevermore. He unpacks his unquiet heart decades later, and his doing so plays out through the second distinctive feature of Jones’s novel: its story-within-story-within-story structure.
The novel opens with a discovery — in 2012, a book hidden in the wall of an old parsonage is found by an unnamed construction worker. It turns out to be a journal, written in 1912 and belonging to Arthur Beaucarne, the pastor of the local Lutheran congregation. Inside it contains the story of his strange encounters with Good Stab, who, after years of carnage, has seemingly come to him to confess.
In the novel’s 1912 sections, Jones adeptly plays into the expectations we have of horror tales. Good Stab appears and disappears in the church at will; people in town are being killed inexplicably; the sheriff doesn’t believe Beaucarne when he tries to tell him his suspicions about Good Stab; and Beaucarne himself has a secret past, which makes his vow to listen to Good Stab’s confession with “a good heart” increasingly suspect. Jones creates and builds a strong sense of suspense and mystery in the 1912 sections, whereas the Good Stab passages are comparatively loose and repetitively graphic, to the point of tedium.
This all comes to us through yet another frame narrative — at the beginning of the novel, Etsy Beaucarne, a flailing academic and descendant of Arthur, acquires the journal. Reading it, she’s curious about what she learns of her ancestor and his undead companion. As the novel unfolds, Jones moves back and forth between Beaucarne’s haunting in 1912 and Good Stab’s hunting in the years before, reserving Etsy’s discovery of her family connection to a strange and supernatural past for the opening and closing segments of the book.
What is Jones doing here, with this trifold narrative structure? He has created a novel that invites us to reflect on how the stories we tell about ourselves can be at once confessions and concealments. At the same time, he’s using this framework to set up some scary, big reveals. Do the vampire math, people: The story Etsy’s reading from a hundred years ago isn’t finished yet.
THE BUFFALO HUNTER HUNTER | By Stephen Graham Jones | Saga Press | 435 pp. | $29
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