The protagonist glares at himself in a hand-held mirror, snarling then poignantly asking: “who am I?” He then shatters the mirror against the wall and stomps off. The camera fades to black. What is Edgar Davids? A great player – I would argue so. Even if his exact position on the field defies the principles of scientific certainty, the holding/attacking midfielder provided his fair share of probing passes and pulsating tackles. And he also won a few titles.
We begin with your puzzled, fundamental question: after Best, Pele, Maradonna, why Davids? I have two questions for you, dear reader. Would you ask a chameleon his true color? Is a Zebra black with white stripes, or vice versa? Edgar Davids’ career captivated me for one simple reason – I could never pin him as a ballwinner with the occasional nice pass, nor the attacking midfielder who tracked back consistently. Rather, Edgar’s identity shifted course like an underwater river in the face of subtly moving tectonic plates – he was what his team needed him to be, when they needed him to be it. Often, his identity depended on the match.
With the flowing dreadlocks and protective goggles due to glaucoma, Edgar Davids may be the most recognizable footballer of the nineties this side of Alexi Lalas. Edgar began his career at Ajax, where, nicknamed “the Pitbull” by Louis Van Gaal, he won three Dutch domestic titles.
Davids also had success on the European stage. 
Ajax won the UEFA Cup in 1992, and went to back-to-back Champions league finals in 1995 and 1996. In 1995, they took home the trophy, but 1996 was unquestionably a lowpoint for the high flying Dutchman. Entrusted to take the opening penalty kick, Davids failed to convert his effort.
Scratch that – he failed in absolutely miserable fashion. His stutter steps failed to unbalance the keeper, his eyes broadcasted his shot, his effort lacked pace, and, to top it off, was struck right at the goalie. See for yourself…
His miss was the first domino in a wave of nerves as Ajax folded and Juventus claimed the crown. Davids would soon move to Italy and sign for AC Milan. However, due to limited playing time, in the winter of 1997, he would transfer to the Old Lady.
Lippi would call Davids his “one man engine room,” and Juventus would win the Serie A titles in 1998, 2002, and 2003. Still, it was not all roses. Davids tested positive for a performance enhancing drug in 2001 and served a suspension. In 2003, his Juventus would face AC Milan in the final of the Champions League. The game would go 120 minutes without a goal, but the Rossoneri would prevail in spotkicks. Once again for Edgar, it was a sad case of seeing the summit on a clear day, but only arriving just out of reach.
Edgar was loaned to Barcelona for the 2004 season, and encountered a team that was a pale shadow of its former self. Still, the Pitbull, Ronaldinho, and Javier Saviola, under the tutelage of Frank Rijkaard, finished second in La Liga that season and ushered in a renaissance.
But Edgar would play no part in the coming trophy triumphs. Instead, after his one year loan ended, Juventus shipped him to purgatory – Inter Milan. He failed to stake out a starting place, and soon was transferred to a league ideally suited to his physical style of play: the Premiership. There was just one problem: the Pit Bull was no longer a pup.
He played a strong supporting role in the Spurs consecutive 5th season places, but failed to dazzle and currently finds himself in the malebolgic realm of Qattar and MLS offers. A man of fierce tackling but quiet dignity, he has elected to remain club less.
But the story of Edgar cannot and should not end with only his playing exploits. As the sentinel face of Nike’s entry into footballing territory, Davids graced our TV screens in various forms, some good, some…not so good. While I am not categorically opposed to basketball-soccer crossovers, Good Heavens this ad turned out poor…
Does anybody else think Edgar Davids could find stiffer athletic competition than a bunch of part time-And 1-dreamers? And they probably had little-to-no soccer experience. Still, the Dutchman had silky footskills and his dreads and tackles paved the path for a certain blossoming Brazilinho.