So I was at the – wait, guess – yep, I was at the boosktore this afternoon, where I found an interesting book called “Under the March Sun” by Charles Fountain. It's a well-written book about the history and traditions surrounding spring training baseball. Naturally, I had to check out the first couple of chapters because 1. I love baseball and, 2. To improve upon my MLS South idea.
It turns out that one of the godfathers of spring training was a guy named Al Lang, a Laundromat owner in Pittsburgh who had to move to the Sunshine State in order to improve his health in 1910. Something about the air in Steel City just wasn’t, um, clean. I know, hard to believe.
Now, it turned out that Lang, a lifelong fan of his native Pirates, wanted to bring baseball to his new home in St. Petersburg. Lang was an affable man who made many friends wherever he went. Some of those friends happened to be in the Pirates organization, the first club he tried to attract to sunny St. Pete for the spring. They declined. Something about there being distractions – like beaches and bars, I guess.
But eventually, Lang found himself as the town’s mayor for four years, and was able to land some pretty big fishes. First, the Boston Braves came down in the 1920s. Then, two of the biggest teams in baseball promised to make the newly-designated Sunshine City their spring home: the St. Louis Cardinals and Babe Ruth’s New York Yankees.
Lang loved his baseball. He tried everything he could to wean the ballclubs to make St. Pete their home away from home. He paid the travel expenses of the entire team AND the writers. In his mind, any dateline with “ST. PETERSBURGH, Fla.” was free publicity for his beloved town. Many other teams followed the Braves, Cards and Yanks to Florida. At one point, 14 of the 16 the league’s clubs camped in Florida. And Al Lang is perhaps the man most responsible for the success of springtime ball in on the peninsula.
Similarly, I believe the same endeavor taken by Lang nearly 100 years ago could be applied to MLS. Lang was a visionary who saw baseball as a means to attract tourists to St. Pete, and by extension, Florida. He paid for everything knowing that the rewards could be reaped. When people talked about the Yankees – Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Joe DiMaggio, and Mickey Mantle – during March, they also mentioned St. Pete. And the people came. People from all over the country came to St. Pete for one reason: baseball.
There’s no doubt in my mind this can be applied to MLS. In fact, the pitches already exist where a club could camp down there right now. U.S. Soccer has its IMG Training Academy in Bradenton – there’s one locale already. You probably fit two or three MLS clubs at the facility. There’s the Miami FC facilities. There’s also boatload of state universities where clubs could train on the school’s soccer pitches.
It just takes some initiative. It takes someone recognizing the potential rewards of hosting an MLS club during the spring. The pros interact with the college or youth teams at IMG. In turn, the pros are given soccer-spec facilities, a much smoother training and preseason schedule, and plenty of outdoor training.
So how long will it take for MLS to recognize the benefits of a common spring destination for its clubs?
*
Speaking of spring destinations, the Revolution kick off the first of three (...!) preseason matches tonight at Nelson Field in Austin, Texas. You may remember Austin as being the home city for one of the more interesting seasons of The Real World. I know this because I still have a crush on Johanna.
But anyway, tonight’s match will likely involve the obligatory mix of veterans and rookies for both halves. Perhaps some tactical tinkering. And probably alot of miscommunication, which is to be expected in any club's first match of the spring. Overall, you really can’t make much of a club’s performance in its first (or second) preseason match.
So what can we gain from tonight’s match? Unfortunately, the match won’t be broadcast via radio. Or the telly. Maybe military spy satellites. Instead, it will be “covered” exclusively vua the Official Revolution Blog, which is too often the only source of information during the club’s ongoing preseason adventures.
And I have no real problem with that. Some info is better than no info. It’s actually one of the very few outlets where I can stay up to date on the local XI. The only thing is, it’s written by the club’s communications department. So, of course, it’s accurate. But it’s also biased. We’ll know who did well. We’ll know who surprised (in a good way). We'll know who deserved a gold star on the soccer skills chart.
But what we won’t know is who looked out of shape, lethargic, or just plain pathetic. We won’t know who isn’t fitting in, or if the Aztex are having their way with a top-flight team. And its occasions like these where the independent media perspective would come in pretty darn handy.*
(*I’d like to think that my buddy Frank Dell’Apa is down there, but as far as I know, his primary responsibilities are keeping him in Beantown with the Celtics and their newest headache Stephon Marbury. That’s a darn shame – Frank’s The Don of soccer journalism here in New England.)
And I’ll tell you, as a journalist myself, if my ticket, accommodations and my wad of ones were taken care of, I’d give it to you straight up. I’d give you the clean and the dirty. Who looked good and who got pwned. But most importantly, I’d provide a completely unbiased perspective, which is exactly what’s been missing for much of the preseason.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Feilhaber....Feilhaber...
Late last night, after reading a few more chapters of "House on Mango Street" and before hitting the hay, I snuck in a few minutes to catch up with the Men's National Team on ussoccer.com. And while going through some of the World Cup Qualifying articles, it dawned upon me:
What the heck happened to Benny Feilhaber?
Seriously. The Yank from Brazil had his ticket virtually punched to South Africa after an impressive '07 Gold Cup showing. Many of us still have visions of that laser-guided missile that not only broke the Mexicans in the final, but nearly burst through the twine. I still marvel at that shot. Wow.
Soon afterward, Benny's name was on the tongue of all American soccer supporters. His time at Hamburg SV seemed to serve him well, and put him in a position to transfer Derby County, which was in the Premier League at the time. Everything was going this kid's way.
But then, the clock struck midnight. Derby couldn't stay afloat in the Premiership, and had to release the midfielder on a free transfer. He ended up with the Danish side Aarhus Gymnastikforening, but struggled to stay fit.
This in turn has led to diminishing returns with the National Team. He was named to the U.S. Olymic team roster last summer, but was limited to late-matchcameos in each of the Yanks three matches.
Meanwhile, Jose Francisco Torres, Ricardo Clark and Sacha Kljestan have all leapfrogged Feilhaber in Bob Bradley's midfield within the past year. In fact, all three have performed so well that Feilhaber's name seems to have become nothing more than afterthought when next year's World Cup squad is discussed.
It has become a sad realization of the old saying: out of sight, out of mind.
***
So, I say all that above to say this: forget Beckham for second. Forget the rumors of Ahn Jung-Hwan or Thierry Henry (in a few years) journeying to MLS. What MLS could use is an influx of the country's brightest players abroad.
Feilhaber would be a great candidate. Even if he isn't signed by MLS, I'm sure a loan could be worked out. Despite Benny's recent plague of injuries, he's only 24, and has a world of talent when healthy. Plus, it would be a win/win situation for nearly all involved. Feilhaber would be in a much better forum for National Team consideration, and the MLS club he's assigned to would surely benefit from having him in their midfield.
And you know who else would benefit from this kind of Stateside return?
Eddie Johnson, another guy who's just melted away from our soccer minds over the past year. E.J.'s shown us what he's got in MLS, but he's struggled to find playing time at Cardiff City. Because of that, he's watched Jozy Altidore and Kenny Cooper take his throne up top with the Yanks. Put E.J. on a team like the Galaxy, with Bruce Arena there? OMG. It'd be like reuniting Jennifer Love Hewitt and Lacey Chabert for a "Party of Five" reunion. Yum.
Although I can think of a few more former National Team guys who've fallen off the map recently, I'll name a dark horse. You know, for debate purposes. The comments section? Yeah, completely unmoderated. Shoot off at all.
Jeremiah White. Yep, I said it. The same Jeremiah White that blew off the Revolution after it drafted him back in 2004. He's been called up a couple of times, but has never seen actual pitch time. He's currently playing in Denmark for AGF Aarhus, which might as well be Supercalafrageslitcexpialidocious Aarhus, because a guy of his talent should have seen some action earlier this year in the Yanks' friendly vs. Sweden.
Now, I'm not saying that all three of these guys would welcome the idea of being plucked from their European flats and cast into MLS. I have no idea if these guys would light the league on fire. I'm not a clairvoyant. But I think some serious consideration should be given by the suits in MLS to start thinking about this cheaper alternative to big-name (costlier) signings.
What the heck happened to Benny Feilhaber?
Seriously. The Yank from Brazil had his ticket virtually punched to South Africa after an impressive '07 Gold Cup showing. Many of us still have visions of that laser-guided missile that not only broke the Mexicans in the final, but nearly burst through the twine. I still marvel at that shot. Wow.
Soon afterward, Benny's name was on the tongue of all American soccer supporters. His time at Hamburg SV seemed to serve him well, and put him in a position to transfer Derby County, which was in the Premier League at the time. Everything was going this kid's way.
But then, the clock struck midnight. Derby couldn't stay afloat in the Premiership, and had to release the midfielder on a free transfer. He ended up with the Danish side Aarhus Gymnastikforening, but struggled to stay fit.
This in turn has led to diminishing returns with the National Team. He was named to the U.S. Olymic team roster last summer, but was limited to late-matchcameos in each of the Yanks three matches.
Meanwhile, Jose Francisco Torres, Ricardo Clark and Sacha Kljestan have all leapfrogged Feilhaber in Bob Bradley's midfield within the past year. In fact, all three have performed so well that Feilhaber's name seems to have become nothing more than afterthought when next year's World Cup squad is discussed.
It has become a sad realization of the old saying: out of sight, out of mind.
***
So, I say all that above to say this: forget Beckham for second. Forget the rumors of Ahn Jung-Hwan or Thierry Henry (in a few years) journeying to MLS. What MLS could use is an influx of the country's brightest players abroad.
Feilhaber would be a great candidate. Even if he isn't signed by MLS, I'm sure a loan could be worked out. Despite Benny's recent plague of injuries, he's only 24, and has a world of talent when healthy. Plus, it would be a win/win situation for nearly all involved. Feilhaber would be in a much better forum for National Team consideration, and the MLS club he's assigned to would surely benefit from having him in their midfield.
And you know who else would benefit from this kind of Stateside return?
Eddie Johnson, another guy who's just melted away from our soccer minds over the past year. E.J.'s shown us what he's got in MLS, but he's struggled to find playing time at Cardiff City. Because of that, he's watched Jozy Altidore and Kenny Cooper take his throne up top with the Yanks. Put E.J. on a team like the Galaxy, with Bruce Arena there? OMG. It'd be like reuniting Jennifer Love Hewitt and Lacey Chabert for a "Party of Five" reunion. Yum.
Although I can think of a few more former National Team guys who've fallen off the map recently, I'll name a dark horse. You know, for debate purposes. The comments section? Yeah, completely unmoderated. Shoot off at all.
Jeremiah White. Yep, I said it. The same Jeremiah White that blew off the Revolution after it drafted him back in 2004. He's been called up a couple of times, but has never seen actual pitch time. He's currently playing in Denmark for AGF Aarhus, which might as well be Supercalafrageslitcexpialidocious Aarhus, because a guy of his talent should have seen some action earlier this year in the Yanks' friendly vs. Sweden.
Now, I'm not saying that all three of these guys would welcome the idea of being plucked from their European flats and cast into MLS. I have no idea if these guys would light the league on fire. I'm not a clairvoyant. But I think some serious consideration should be given by the suits in MLS to start thinking about this cheaper alternative to big-name (costlier) signings.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
My latest idea: MLS South
Yeah, so I was reading one of the latest media releases from the fine people at the New England Revolution about the club's preseason trip to Austin, Texas this week. I assume this location was selected because it has a much more conducive environment for playing outdoor soccer in February than Foxboro, MA. Call it a hunch.
Now, over the years, you've probably gathered that soccer is an outdoor sport.* As are other sports, like baseball and football. Accordingly, baseball teams do not preseason indoors. Nor do football teams. So why are colder-climate clubs like the New England Revolution (and, I'm sure, the Chicago Fire and New York Red Bulls) reduced to conducting much of their preseason under a roof?
(*Except when played indoors under different rules, tactics, and a bright orange ball.)
Fortunately, there's a really simple solution to this dilemma. In fact, I think this proposal is a groundbreaking idea on my part. *
(*And I won't even charge for it!)
Ready?
Here it is: MLS South.
The idea of what I like to call "MLS South" is nearly identical to set up of Major League Baseball's Grapefruit and Cactus Leagues. For the duration of the baseball preseason, clubs relocate to the warmer respite of Florida and Arizona. They've been doing this for, like, a hundred years or so. Those baseball people are pretty darn smart.
Under this idea, MLS adopts MLB's approach and onduct their preseason training in Florida from February until First Kick. This allows players to truly show their fitness and sharpness on full-length pitches, breathing clean, unfiltered air. In other words, rookies and newcomers actually get a fair shake to show the technical staff their skills and abilities throughout the entire preseason.
This is pretty critical, especially if you're playing on a tryout contract and time is of the essence. Even this week's Revolution media release acknowledged as much:
"(T)he week training on grass – which concludes with the Revolution’s first preseason match against Austin Aztex FC on Saturday, Feb. 28 – will provide the coaching staff with its first opportunity to truly evaluate the players, especially those fighting for roster spots … head coach Steve Nicol has stated publicly that he wants to wait until the club is training outdoors before judging the players’ abilities."
So basically, the previous 2-3 weeks of the indoor phase of the preseason were for...team bonding?*
(*Please, oh please, don't tell us that it takes weeks to regain fitness. This is freaking 2009. The days of showing up for the preseason out of shape went the way of pet rocks and 8-tracks a long time ago.)
Obviously, an outdoor environment gives more time for overall evaluation, both veterans and rookies alike. It also allows a better gauge of how players perform in real-life conditions, since there is no such thing as a five-a-side indoor MLS club.
Now, part two of idea has to do with the level of competition. In the past, MLS clubs have occasionally played each other. But for the most part, many preseason fixtures list are comprised of a patchwork list of extracirricular opponents from the Carribean, Mexico, Antarctica, and the USL.
While the matches against foreign clubs certainly give an interesting twist to the monotony of two-a-days, MLS clubs are far better off - get this - playing each other. You know, kind of like how MLB, the NFL and the NBA roll during its own preseasons. They actually play each other. I know - pretty mind-blowing stuff.
And what better way to kill both birds with a single stone than to have everybody camp up in a common warm weatherlocale? The model already exists in professional baseball. I think it's worked out pretty well for them. So why not apply the same method to MLS?
So, here's the idea fully explained. Each MLS club has a base of operations in Florida, where the days are so sunny that even a single cloud has the potential to ruin a perfectly good day.* There, all MLS clubs train in the same conditions. Since every club is within driving distance of each other, this also allows MLS clubs quare off against each other, rather than flying out and playing against unfamiliar and often less-than-formidable sides. Plus, this only requires one preseason plane trip for each MLS club, rather than the two or three flights that many clubs partake in to play distant clubs. It's economically-friendly on purpose.
After a couple of weeks of conditioning, a six match preseason schedule against other MLS clubs commences. Then, everyone goes back home, and the regular season starts.
(*Have you ever seen that Southwest Airlines commercial where that chick on the beach comments that, after a single wispy cloud blocks the sun for like five seconds, "hopefully the weather's better tomorrow?" Yeah, that fifteen-second clip is brimming with truth.)
(EDIT: Is my thinking too far outside of the box here? Really?)
Now, over the years, you've probably gathered that soccer is an outdoor sport.* As are other sports, like baseball and football. Accordingly, baseball teams do not preseason indoors. Nor do football teams. So why are colder-climate clubs like the New England Revolution (and, I'm sure, the Chicago Fire and New York Red Bulls) reduced to conducting much of their preseason under a roof?
(*Except when played indoors under different rules, tactics, and a bright orange ball.)
Fortunately, there's a really simple solution to this dilemma. In fact, I think this proposal is a groundbreaking idea on my part. *
(*And I won't even charge for it!)
Ready?
Here it is: MLS South.
The idea of what I like to call "MLS South" is nearly identical to set up of Major League Baseball's Grapefruit and Cactus Leagues. For the duration of the baseball preseason, clubs relocate to the warmer respite of Florida and Arizona. They've been doing this for, like, a hundred years or so. Those baseball people are pretty darn smart.
Under this idea, MLS adopts MLB's approach and onduct their preseason training in Florida from February until First Kick. This allows players to truly show their fitness and sharpness on full-length pitches, breathing clean, unfiltered air. In other words, rookies and newcomers actually get a fair shake to show the technical staff their skills and abilities throughout the entire preseason.
This is pretty critical, especially if you're playing on a tryout contract and time is of the essence. Even this week's Revolution media release acknowledged as much:
"(T)he week training on grass – which concludes with the Revolution’s first preseason match against Austin Aztex FC on Saturday, Feb. 28 – will provide the coaching staff with its first opportunity to truly evaluate the players, especially those fighting for roster spots … head coach Steve Nicol has stated publicly that he wants to wait until the club is training outdoors before judging the players’ abilities."
So basically, the previous 2-3 weeks of the indoor phase of the preseason were for...team bonding?*
(*Please, oh please, don't tell us that it takes weeks to regain fitness. This is freaking 2009. The days of showing up for the preseason out of shape went the way of pet rocks and 8-tracks a long time ago.)
Obviously, an outdoor environment gives more time for overall evaluation, both veterans and rookies alike. It also allows a better gauge of how players perform in real-life conditions, since there is no such thing as a five-a-side indoor MLS club.
Now, part two of idea has to do with the level of competition. In the past, MLS clubs have occasionally played each other. But for the most part, many preseason fixtures list are comprised of a patchwork list of extracirricular opponents from the Carribean, Mexico, Antarctica, and the USL.
While the matches against foreign clubs certainly give an interesting twist to the monotony of two-a-days, MLS clubs are far better off - get this - playing each other. You know, kind of like how MLB, the NFL and the NBA roll during its own preseasons. They actually play each other. I know - pretty mind-blowing stuff.
And what better way to kill both birds with a single stone than to have everybody camp up in a common warm weatherlocale? The model already exists in professional baseball. I think it's worked out pretty well for them. So why not apply the same method to MLS?
So, here's the idea fully explained. Each MLS club has a base of operations in Florida, where the days are so sunny that even a single cloud has the potential to ruin a perfectly good day.* There, all MLS clubs train in the same conditions. Since every club is within driving distance of each other, this also allows MLS clubs quare off against each other, rather than flying out and playing against unfamiliar and often less-than-formidable sides. Plus, this only requires one preseason plane trip for each MLS club, rather than the two or three flights that many clubs partake in to play distant clubs. It's economically-friendly on purpose.
After a couple of weeks of conditioning, a six match preseason schedule against other MLS clubs commences. Then, everyone goes back home, and the regular season starts.
(*Have you ever seen that Southwest Airlines commercial where that chick on the beach comments that, after a single wispy cloud blocks the sun for like five seconds, "hopefully the weather's better tomorrow?" Yeah, that fifteen-second clip is brimming with truth.)
(EDIT: Is my thinking too far outside of the box here? Really?)
More MLS player promotion, please
So, I was watching Vanilla Sky last night for that ominously-titled World Making class I’ve referenced a few times here. Man, that class just opens up your mind. I’ve been busy analyzing my own analysis of the world. If I ever get a foothold of the theory behind that class, I have a feeling this whole blog will self-implode and reform as a 27,000 page discourse on the plight of soccer here in the States.ANYWAY, for those of you who’ve seen the movie, you know it was a pyschological, 135-minute mind screw. It actually took me three sittings to finally figure it out. Seriously, I just got the entire jist of the plot last night, some seven years after I first watched it.
But that’s not the point of this post. You’re not here to read about my movie watching habits,* nor about my film reviews.** You’re here to read about soccer. And after the movie, I tuned into NESN, and wouldn’t you know it – I saw Taylor Twellman pitching a local Audi dealership.
(*I generally find myself watching flicks of the following classifications: sports, drama, and chick flicks. The occasional romantic comedy and sci-fi film never hurts, but I’m not at all a fan of horror.
I had a girlfriend who, whatever the opposite of the word “desensitized” is, did that word to me. I used to watch The Shield with her, and whenever a character on the show would get killed, tortured, maimed, beaten down, etc., she’d say something like “that poor guy – he’s got like parents. What will his parents do when they find out their son is dead or beaten to a pulp? What about his girlfriend?” I started thinking like that, too. Now, I can’t watch a fictional character get hurt or killed without thinking about their fictional loved ones’ reactions.)
(**See Frost/Nixon. DON’T see Taken.)
I won’t breakdown the commercial, other than to say that the ending oozed the cheese of 99% of local television spots. It ends with Taylor saying something to the effect of “I did” or something like that after the narrator spoke of taking advantage of the dealerships outstanding deals and customer service. I should’ve TiVo’d it.
The great thing about this commercial is that it’s the first I’ve seen in at least five years where a New England Revolution player is featured. Aside from that adidas spot where Michael Parkhurst makes a cameo, Revs players find the camera about as often as a local squash team. To me, that speaks volumes about how much more can be done to promote the league.
Yeah, those adidas ads with Jozy Altidore kicking holes though defenders, and Sacha Kljestan intermingling with a youth club are cool. I’ll take any of those over another commercial with Peyton Manning. Or, God help us, any of those stupid Coors light commercials with retired/recently fired NFL head coaches.
I’ve always thought that local advertising was a neat little way to embed professional soccer into the sports consumer’s consciousness. People remember commercials. I can recall just about every commercial featuring a local player. My favorite has to be the Matt Light Fagan Doors spot. Because, you know, 320-pound linemen just casually show up to a person’s garage after Fagan installs new garage doors.
If people didn’t know who Matt Light was before then, and before that crazy Life Water commercial where he dances and turns into a lizard, they definitely know him now. Not bad for a guy who doesn’t score touchdowns or have the looks of the guy he gets paid to protect. But most of us in New England sports nation know him, and we know him even better now because of those TV spots.
The same applies at all athletes, even soccer players. Even though I already knew who Taylor Twellman was, I’ll always associate him with Audis. I like Audis. In fact, I may just have to buy an M5* at that dealership because of Twellman’s endorsement.
(*And park it right next to Twellman’s in the Gillette Stadium player’s lot. Like I’m going to park that baby in the media lot. Yeah. Right.)
Sorry about that. I got sidetracked for a second there.
Now, I know the whole endorsement deal is a two way street. A club can’t simply say, “here’s a player, put him in your commercial, and we’ll give you season tickets.” I understand that the advertising firm has to actually want a pro athlete, and already has one in mind well before filming takes place. That’s how these guys roll.
There are MLS players who would be perfect for television. Twellman, for instance, has – how can I say this as a heterosexual male – a photogenic face. OK, OK, he’s a good-looking guy. And I know this because I’ve heard thousands of girls (and women) shriek his name at the Razor on a regular basis. They think he’s cute. They want to marry him. And it helps that he’s pretty darn good at soccer, too.
Maybe some of these guys’ agents need to work a bit harder. I can think of at least five other MLS players that would be perfect pitchmen. Jimmy Conrad. Matt Reis. Frankie Hedjuk. Dwayne DeRosario. Oh, and I almost forgot. Chris Klein.*
(*You probably wouldn’t think of Klein before Landon Donovan. But if Landy’s extremely passive appearance on “MTV Cribs” is any indication, a lot of us would fall asleep halfway through the commercial. Don’ t get me wrong – we all know he’s a heck of a player. But man, that dude’s off-field disposition is just way too nonchalant for me. Klein, on the other hand, has always been an entertaining personality, albeit in the brief interactions I’ve had with him. He’s got energic and colorful, and would be a way better pitchman than Braylon Edwards in those horrible 5 Hour Energy spots.)
And there’s always the original MLS crop of familiar faces. Alexi Lalas, Cobi Jones, and Eric Wynalda. Remember when Cobi used to host “Mega-Dose” on MTV back in late-90s? I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. That show proved you could successfully match the MLS player with the MTV demographic.
That’s just one real-life example. I believe a Revolution-kitted Alexi did a SportsCenter commercial just after the league launched. Someone thrashed his guitar. Chuckles abound.
Much, MUCH more work needs to be done to promote this league. Its primary focus should not be expansion. In fact, I am anti-expansion in the sense that so many other areas need to be addressed first, promotion and player salaries among others. While MLS is busy trying to figure out if Montreal, Miami, Portland or St. Louis are ripe for top-flight soccer, there are plenty people in Kansas City, Houston, and New England who have no idea that there’s an MLS team in their backyard. And if they do, they need a reason to check it out. Without local promotion, that reason will continue to escape them.
The Twellman commercial is an encouraging sign. My hope is that it’s the first of many. I want to see Shalrie Joseph hawking Dunkin Donuts. I want to see Steve Ralston pitching Bass Pro Shops. Matt Reis could sell ketchup on a Popsicle stick. Soccer players are marketable. Their names just need to be whispered in a few ears.
And maybe then – just maybe – this league of ours may wake up and see a beautiful vanilla sky.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
NOT FOR NOTHING, BUT...(a new regular feature)
(I've been reading the Providence Journal sports page since the days of finger paints and my first phonics book. Over the years, Bill Reynolds became the first columnist I purposely read on a regular basis. The guy was like my journalistic version of Roger Clemens, pre-steroids. Anyway, every Saturday, Bill has a column titled "FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH," which is essentially a collection of thoughts about the sports world. They say that imitation is the highest form of flattery, so this feature is a journalistic shout out to one of my favorite columnists. Enjoy!)
NOT FOR NOTHING, BUT…*
(*Didn't take long for that asterisk. The phrase "Not for nothing, but..." is a regularly-used preface among Rhode Islanders before stating one's opinion. Example: "Not for nothing, but those jeans make her look fat." Of course, you could just as easily say "those jeans make her look fat." You don't need the preamble. Not for nothing, but it's a completely useless phrase.)
*The David Beckham Saga continues to drag along, and with the days dwindling until his loan to AC Milan expires on March 9th, it will only get hairier.
One day, it’s Silvio Berlusconi announcing that he will do whatever it takes to keep his rented celebrity midfielder in Milan. The next day, it’s Tim Leiweke saying he won’t let the midfielder go without just compensation (see: $16 million). The day after that, Becks tells the press that he is awaiting “good news” on the “switch.”
Meanwhile, Beckham’s actual club – the Galaxy – continues to train without the very same superstar that has supposedly pledged his allegiance to MLS, the Galaxy, and American soccer.
But let’s be clear: David Beckam is no longer a footballer who happens to be a celebrity. Rather, he is a celebrity that happens to be a footballer, and this AC Milan transfer saga is just another example to support this.
*By the way, you have to be beyond naïve to actually believe that Becks was going to quietly return the Gals on March 9th.
*Sigi Schmid is going to make Seattle a darn good club within two years.
*Conversely, Columbus – Schmid’s former employer and current defending MLS champs – will have their fans wondering why they didn’t make a better effort to keep their two-time MLS Cup winning manager.
*Line of the Week comes from Galaxy president Tim Leiweke: “We look forward to seeing David back in camp.” In the same vein, I look forward to dating Megan Fox.
*The only thing that could make the Beckham Saga even more convoluted is adding super agent Scott Boras to the mix.
*Which, by the way, would also make it that much more interesting, and give MLS some much needed ink in the national papers.
*Don Garber’s Beckham Saga deadline last Friday was a joke, and an unfunny one at that.
*Quiz of the Week: In American soccer lore, two different goals have been coined with the “the shot heard ‘round the world” tag. Name goal scorers, and the matches in which they were scored.
*The same Dane Richards that was left unprotected in the 2007 expansion draft just signed a multi-year deal with the Red Bulls.
*The New England Revolution is one of three MLS clubs currently without a shirt sponsor. Colorado and Kansas City are the others.
*From the Captain Obvious Files: Jimmy Conrad needs to write a book.
*Amid a horrid global economy, MLS had better cool its heels on expansion before the league’s finances resembles those of the post-Pele NASL.
*Not to mention its talent pool.
*The MLS preseason sure lacks the majesty and magic of baseball’s spring training, now doesn't it?
*Jeff Bradley has an excellent feature on Hull City in this week’s edition of ESPN the Magazine.
*Should Becks actually get his wish and stay in Milan beyond March, does ESPN Soccernet’s “Beckham Watch” become obsolete?
*Toronto FC did better than Bernie Madoff this winter, essentially stealing Dwayne DeRosario from Houston.
*But then again, do balanced trades actually exist in MLS? Or are they just figments of our imaginations?
*Quiz answer: Joe Gaetjens goal against England in the 1950 World Cup, and Paul Caligiuri’s goal against Trinidad and Tobago in the1989 World Cup Qualifier that sent the U.S. to the World Cup for the first time in 40 years.
*The L.A. Galaxy managerial position is about as enviable as the managing position for the New York Yankees.
*The Earthquakes will surprise a lot of people this year.
*Don’t look now, but First Kick 2009 is only 24 days away.
*And no, ESPN, or its ABC family of networks, hasn’t begun promoting it.
*Speaking of promotion, no one at MLS or the networks seems to have a single clue about promoting the sport.
*The American Hockey League team here in Providence promotes itself better than a lot of MLS clubs.
*The Revolution held its very first tryouts for their new Revs Girls cheerleading squad, which sounds a lot like the Revolution Song Girls idea I pitched back in 2007.
*No, David Beckham is NOT up for Best Actor at tonight’s Academy Awards.
*If the soccer gods have a sense of humor, Mickey Rourke will play David Beckham in the film adaptation of Becks’ autobiography, “Beckham: Both Feet on the Ground.”
*Did I mention it’s less than a month ‘til First Kick? Bring it on!
NOT FOR NOTHING, BUT…*
(*Didn't take long for that asterisk. The phrase "Not for nothing, but..." is a regularly-used preface among Rhode Islanders before stating one's opinion. Example: "Not for nothing, but those jeans make her look fat." Of course, you could just as easily say "those jeans make her look fat." You don't need the preamble. Not for nothing, but it's a completely useless phrase.)
*The David Beckham Saga continues to drag along, and with the days dwindling until his loan to AC Milan expires on March 9th, it will only get hairier.
One day, it’s Silvio Berlusconi announcing that he will do whatever it takes to keep his rented celebrity midfielder in Milan. The next day, it’s Tim Leiweke saying he won’t let the midfielder go without just compensation (see: $16 million). The day after that, Becks tells the press that he is awaiting “good news” on the “switch.”
Meanwhile, Beckham’s actual club – the Galaxy – continues to train without the very same superstar that has supposedly pledged his allegiance to MLS, the Galaxy, and American soccer.
But let’s be clear: David Beckam is no longer a footballer who happens to be a celebrity. Rather, he is a celebrity that happens to be a footballer, and this AC Milan transfer saga is just another example to support this.
*By the way, you have to be beyond naïve to actually believe that Becks was going to quietly return the Gals on March 9th.
*Sigi Schmid is going to make Seattle a darn good club within two years.
*Conversely, Columbus – Schmid’s former employer and current defending MLS champs – will have their fans wondering why they didn’t make a better effort to keep their two-time MLS Cup winning manager.
*Line of the Week comes from Galaxy president Tim Leiweke: “We look forward to seeing David back in camp.” In the same vein, I look forward to dating Megan Fox.
*The only thing that could make the Beckham Saga even more convoluted is adding super agent Scott Boras to the mix.
*Which, by the way, would also make it that much more interesting, and give MLS some much needed ink in the national papers.
*Don Garber’s Beckham Saga deadline last Friday was a joke, and an unfunny one at that.
*Quiz of the Week: In American soccer lore, two different goals have been coined with the “the shot heard ‘round the world” tag. Name goal scorers, and the matches in which they were scored.
*The same Dane Richards that was left unprotected in the 2007 expansion draft just signed a multi-year deal with the Red Bulls.
*The New England Revolution is one of three MLS clubs currently without a shirt sponsor. Colorado and Kansas City are the others.
*From the Captain Obvious Files: Jimmy Conrad needs to write a book.
*Amid a horrid global economy, MLS had better cool its heels on expansion before the league’s finances resembles those of the post-Pele NASL.
*Not to mention its talent pool.
*The MLS preseason sure lacks the majesty and magic of baseball’s spring training, now doesn't it?
*Jeff Bradley has an excellent feature on Hull City in this week’s edition of ESPN the Magazine.
*Should Becks actually get his wish and stay in Milan beyond March, does ESPN Soccernet’s “Beckham Watch” become obsolete?
*Toronto FC did better than Bernie Madoff this winter, essentially stealing Dwayne DeRosario from Houston.
*But then again, do balanced trades actually exist in MLS? Or are they just figments of our imaginations?
*Quiz answer: Joe Gaetjens goal against England in the 1950 World Cup, and Paul Caligiuri’s goal against Trinidad and Tobago in the1989 World Cup Qualifier that sent the U.S. to the World Cup for the first time in 40 years.
*The L.A. Galaxy managerial position is about as enviable as the managing position for the New York Yankees.
*The Earthquakes will surprise a lot of people this year.
*Don’t look now, but First Kick 2009 is only 24 days away.
*And no, ESPN, or its ABC family of networks, hasn’t begun promoting it.
*Speaking of promotion, no one at MLS or the networks seems to have a single clue about promoting the sport.
*The American Hockey League team here in Providence promotes itself better than a lot of MLS clubs.
*The Revolution held its very first tryouts for their new Revs Girls cheerleading squad, which sounds a lot like the Revolution Song Girls idea I pitched back in 2007.
*No, David Beckham is NOT up for Best Actor at tonight’s Academy Awards.
*If the soccer gods have a sense of humor, Mickey Rourke will play David Beckham in the film adaptation of Becks’ autobiography, “Beckham: Both Feet on the Ground.”
*Did I mention it’s less than a month ‘til First Kick? Bring it on!
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Don't hold your breath waiting for Becks to come back
(*I know this thought far, FAR from original. In fact, it's been regurgitated more than a few times. But that's how I'm rolling today, with non-stop work and school keeping my hands busy from 8am-7pm. Enjoy at your own risk.)
David Beckham is not coming back to MLS.
He is not coming back because one of the most powerful clubs on the planet will do whatever it takes to keep him. And he, and his well-paid lawyers will do whatever it takes to aid those efforts.
Loan? Yeah. Right. Did any of us really believe it when the Los Angeles Galaxy loaned Beckham to AC Milan that it was a temporary arrangement? It's the equivalent of allowing an alcoholic to shack up in a brewery for a couple of months.
Beckham's recent motives have never been obscured. He's publicly stated, on numerous occasions, his desire to stay fit in order to accumulate caps for Mother England, play in the 2010 World Cup, and eventually surpass Bobby Moore's English mark of 115 caps. What better way to accomplish both than joining a high profile club like Milan?
The day that Beckham and his firm of lawyers signed the loan deal, his committment to the Galaxy, and by extension, MLS, was effectively shattered. The ring was slipped off the finger, placed in the pocket, and purposely forgotten.
For a lad that claimed to be a team player, a professional, the move to Milan seemed to counteract that image. Here was the self-serving Beckham. The Becks that bit off more than he could chew. The Becks that was desperate to back out of a mega-rich deal that would likely doom the final days of his footballing career far removed from the footballing cathedrals across the pond.
Moreso, Beckham is not coming back out pure pride. Can we picture the fiasco that would ensue if Becks, surely embarrassed by his less than complimentary comments of MLS, were to face the American media with his tail between his legs? He won't allow it. He's just too prideful for an exercise like that.
The Milan faithful have embraced him. He is loved. He loves them back. He loves his club. They love him back. He loves himself. There is too much love in Italy to return to a place where the love for soccer is similar to that shown to a mistress.
And that's what MLS was to Becks, in hindsight. His previous flames - Manchester United and Real Madrid - had stopped loving him. He was eager to find another woman who loved him, despite his faults. A woman that would give a sufficiently large ego boost. And MLS, a league in a land with plenty of riches, glamour and glitz did just that. They catered to every need. They placed him on a club right next door to Hollywood. They named ticket packages after him. He became their oyster.
But after awhile, it became empty. Becks missed the high stakes of European football. And now that a more enticing prospect - one which shot the pure adrenaline into Beckham's heart that MLS could never deliver - has arrived, he's dropped MLS for the prettier, more lavish woman.
So no, there is no way in Hell that David Beckham returns to MLS, his old mistress. He's already moved in with his latest conquest. And that chick ain't letting go of him.
David Beckham is not coming back to MLS.
He is not coming back because one of the most powerful clubs on the planet will do whatever it takes to keep him. And he, and his well-paid lawyers will do whatever it takes to aid those efforts.
Loan? Yeah. Right. Did any of us really believe it when the Los Angeles Galaxy loaned Beckham to AC Milan that it was a temporary arrangement? It's the equivalent of allowing an alcoholic to shack up in a brewery for a couple of months.
Beckham's recent motives have never been obscured. He's publicly stated, on numerous occasions, his desire to stay fit in order to accumulate caps for Mother England, play in the 2010 World Cup, and eventually surpass Bobby Moore's English mark of 115 caps. What better way to accomplish both than joining a high profile club like Milan?
The day that Beckham and his firm of lawyers signed the loan deal, his committment to the Galaxy, and by extension, MLS, was effectively shattered. The ring was slipped off the finger, placed in the pocket, and purposely forgotten.
For a lad that claimed to be a team player, a professional, the move to Milan seemed to counteract that image. Here was the self-serving Beckham. The Becks that bit off more than he could chew. The Becks that was desperate to back out of a mega-rich deal that would likely doom the final days of his footballing career far removed from the footballing cathedrals across the pond.
Moreso, Beckham is not coming back out pure pride. Can we picture the fiasco that would ensue if Becks, surely embarrassed by his less than complimentary comments of MLS, were to face the American media with his tail between his legs? He won't allow it. He's just too prideful for an exercise like that.
The Milan faithful have embraced him. He is loved. He loves them back. He loves his club. They love him back. He loves himself. There is too much love in Italy to return to a place where the love for soccer is similar to that shown to a mistress.
And that's what MLS was to Becks, in hindsight. His previous flames - Manchester United and Real Madrid - had stopped loving him. He was eager to find another woman who loved him, despite his faults. A woman that would give a sufficiently large ego boost. And MLS, a league in a land with plenty of riches, glamour and glitz did just that. They catered to every need. They placed him on a club right next door to Hollywood. They named ticket packages after him. He became their oyster.
But after awhile, it became empty. Becks missed the high stakes of European football. And now that a more enticing prospect - one which shot the pure adrenaline into Beckham's heart that MLS could never deliver - has arrived, he's dropped MLS for the prettier, more lavish woman.
So no, there is no way in Hell that David Beckham returns to MLS, his old mistress. He's already moved in with his latest conquest. And that chick ain't letting go of him.
Subscription separation
(*Jeez, has it really been nearly a week since I’ve posted? I thought I’d catch some time over the extended weekend to post about the laughable “deadline” set forth by MLS Commissioner Don Garber for the David Beckham crisis to resolve itself. Unfortunately, I lost my train of thought while reading about world making, fields of consciousness, and metafiction. If my brain were yellow, it would look like scrambled eggs. As a result, this is all I could come up with. My apologies.)
Anyone who knows me is certain of three things pertaining to me:
1. I laugh at everything*
(*And this apparently unnerves people who think that every time I laugh or chuckle - which I admittedly do alot - I’m somehow belittling them/their viewpoints. By no means at all. I’m just a very happy go lucky kind of guy. Check the quote from my high school yearbook: “Life is too serious to be taken to seriously.” )
2. I dream that the large construction development behind my house will eventually morph into a soccer stadium.
3. On Saturday afternoon, I can be found at any given bookstore
Since 1 and 2 have nothing to do with this post, I'll strike them from the record. For now.
Yeah, I'm a sucker for a good bookstore like an athlete who can't stay away from a "classy" strip club. What can I say? Depending upon your reading habits, bookstores are usually alot less sleazier, and much more friendly on the wallet (hey, what happened to all my ones?). Accordingly, book stores have served as a weekend refuge after a week full of school, work, and other responsibilities. Ti – I mean strip clubs – only serve to depress me. I think it has to do with the lighting. And the crappy food.
Anyway, I was at the book store some three odd months ago - mind you, this wasn't the last time I was there - when I picked up a copy of Soccer America and the subscription card fell out. It happens all the time.
But when I picked it off the floor, I noticed that an intriguing offer awaited me. A three-issue trial. So I did what any frugal shopper did - tucked the card into my wallet, filled out the pertinent information in the car, ran to the nearest mailboxand and said, YES, send me three free issues of Soccer America. On the double.
As promised, I received three free issues, as well as daily e-mails on soccer stateside and abroad. I have to say, I was pretty happy. Those guys at Soccer America know how to cater to the American soccer fan. It's like they read my mind, and never felt violated about it. That's rare.
However, as the trial neared its conclusion, overtures were made to transform my mini-subscription a full-blown, no holds barred, all you can eat subscription. I guess that's how drug users get hooked. Dude, try this. Guaranteed to get you happy/wild/messed up.
And I was hooked. I loved the info, the glossy magazine itself, and coverage, etc. But the price - well, that was the deal breaker. I mean, I could do it - I'm not insanely poor, but I'm not particularly rich enough to commit to another subscription* while I'm still paying for student and car loans, car insurance, lavish dates, rent, etc. So that's my situation.
(* I currently have subscriptions to Sports Illustrated, GQ, ESPN the Magazine, Car and Driver, and Entertainment Weekly. The sad thing is I hardly find the time to read more than an article or two from each. When they accumulate on the coffee table, it makes me appear well-informed, or so I'm told.)
Now I'll continue to pick up Soccer America every month or so at the bookstore because, heck, it just seems like a smaller dent each month than one big dent right now. I know it's cheaper in the long run to subscribe. To me, it's the equivalent of paying Subway $79 for a month's worth of subs. I know I'll eat them. But I'm just as happy paying five and change three times a week rather than forking over $79 bucks. I don't want to throw down $79 right now. I know it’s less than a 25 cents a day* for a year's worth of soccer information. But that money could go to a night of shopping and Dave & Buster's with my friend Jenn. Or to a couple of spiffy knockoff soccer jerseys on eBay. I have priorities, you know.
(*This is what the Soccer America marketing department has explained in its subscription e-mails. For less than a quarter a day, you can stay abreast of the latest in American and international soccer. Yeah, that’s a way of looking at it. But it also makes me feel guilty because I could save a child from poverty for less than a quarter a day as well. Thanks for the conscience check, Soccer America.)
Anyone who knows me is certain of three things pertaining to me:
1. I laugh at everything*
(*And this apparently unnerves people who think that every time I laugh or chuckle - which I admittedly do alot - I’m somehow belittling them/their viewpoints. By no means at all. I’m just a very happy go lucky kind of guy. Check the quote from my high school yearbook: “Life is too serious to be taken to seriously.” )
2. I dream that the large construction development behind my house will eventually morph into a soccer stadium.
3. On Saturday afternoon, I can be found at any given bookstore
Since 1 and 2 have nothing to do with this post, I'll strike them from the record. For now.
Yeah, I'm a sucker for a good bookstore like an athlete who can't stay away from a "classy" strip club. What can I say? Depending upon your reading habits, bookstores are usually alot less sleazier, and much more friendly on the wallet (hey, what happened to all my ones?). Accordingly, book stores have served as a weekend refuge after a week full of school, work, and other responsibilities. Ti – I mean strip clubs – only serve to depress me. I think it has to do with the lighting. And the crappy food.
Anyway, I was at the book store some three odd months ago - mind you, this wasn't the last time I was there - when I picked up a copy of Soccer America and the subscription card fell out. It happens all the time.
But when I picked it off the floor, I noticed that an intriguing offer awaited me. A three-issue trial. So I did what any frugal shopper did - tucked the card into my wallet, filled out the pertinent information in the car, ran to the nearest mailboxand and said, YES, send me three free issues of Soccer America. On the double.
As promised, I received three free issues, as well as daily e-mails on soccer stateside and abroad. I have to say, I was pretty happy. Those guys at Soccer America know how to cater to the American soccer fan. It's like they read my mind, and never felt violated about it. That's rare.
However, as the trial neared its conclusion, overtures were made to transform my mini-subscription a full-blown, no holds barred, all you can eat subscription. I guess that's how drug users get hooked. Dude, try this. Guaranteed to get you happy/wild/messed up.
And I was hooked. I loved the info, the glossy magazine itself, and coverage, etc. But the price - well, that was the deal breaker. I mean, I could do it - I'm not insanely poor, but I'm not particularly rich enough to commit to another subscription* while I'm still paying for student and car loans, car insurance, lavish dates, rent, etc. So that's my situation.
(* I currently have subscriptions to Sports Illustrated, GQ, ESPN the Magazine, Car and Driver, and Entertainment Weekly. The sad thing is I hardly find the time to read more than an article or two from each. When they accumulate on the coffee table, it makes me appear well-informed, or so I'm told.)
Now I'll continue to pick up Soccer America every month or so at the bookstore because, heck, it just seems like a smaller dent each month than one big dent right now. I know it's cheaper in the long run to subscribe. To me, it's the equivalent of paying Subway $79 for a month's worth of subs. I know I'll eat them. But I'm just as happy paying five and change three times a week rather than forking over $79 bucks. I don't want to throw down $79 right now. I know it’s less than a 25 cents a day* for a year's worth of soccer information. But that money could go to a night of shopping and Dave & Buster's with my friend Jenn. Or to a couple of spiffy knockoff soccer jerseys on eBay. I have priorities, you know.
(*This is what the Soccer America marketing department has explained in its subscription e-mails. For less than a quarter a day, you can stay abreast of the latest in American and international soccer. Yeah, that’s a way of looking at it. But it also makes me feel guilty because I could save a child from poverty for less than a quarter a day as well. Thanks for the conscience check, Soccer America.)
Thursday, February 12, 2009
The Morning After Dos a Cero
Okay, so some thoughts on last night:
- Great atmosphere. I love how a city like Columbus, which is by no means a major metropolitan area or even a Houston or Phoenix (sites of the previous two USA-Mexico matches), can really throw down and make it an event. My dad walked in just after kickoff, and upon hearing the crowd, asked, "I thought we were watching soccer?" We are. "Wow. It sounds like a Duke-North Carolina game."
- I'm starting to feel a man-crush coming on for Giovani Dos Santos, the 19-year-old wunderkid who nearly made it cero a uno in the first ten minutes. It's rare to see a player so comfortable with the ball, even while plowing through defenders. Even though his early shot on Tim Howard yearned for a better finish, you can't help but wonder how much better this kid's going to get once he's old enough to date.
- Where the heck was Sacha Kljestan? I was expecting a solid performance after he wowed us with his hat trick last month. You tease us, Sacha. Or Gordon. Whoever you really you were last night. I couldn't tell, especially with that new close-cropped haircut.
- Speaking of fine performances, yes, I heart Michael Bradley. What a performance, on both ends. His goals speak for themselves - especially that fearless rocket from outside the 18 during injury time. Do I want to name him to the World Cup roster right now? You bet I do.
- I have to shout out Heath Pearce, whom I did not know until last night, had actually played the most minutes (945) for the MNT in 2008. He's quietly put together an impressive resume over the past two years.
- I don't think Rafa Marquez's collision with Tim Howard in the waning minutes was as malicious as it appeared to be. If you watch the replay closely, he actually leads into Howard with his shoulder, bracing for impact. The reason his studs show up appears to be a reflex of not wanting to fall awkwardly rather than causing injury. I know any player, even one of Marquez's world-class pedigree can lose his cool, but I think a red card, in that circumstance, was unjustified.
- The idea that the U.S. is closing the gap on Mexico in relation to claiming the title of top country in CONCACAF won't be validated until the Yanks win at Azteca. It's easier to beat Mexico on home soil, even if the Mexican contingency outnumbers the Americans more often than not. If the Yanks find themselves on the winning end of USA-Mexico in Mexico, THEN we can start talking about USA being the better team.*
(*Among other factors. Mexico is still superior technically. They're much more confident with the ball. Once they get a decent manager, look out.)
- Mexico had no business pressing the issue between the 78th and 88th minutes. The U.S. needs to learn how to start closing out matches if they hope to make any kind of impact in South Africa next summer. It was anyone's match until Bradley's second goal.
- The camera work and production of the broadcast still leaves alot to be desired. There were at least three occasions where a live ball was out of picture. This almost never happens during other ESPN international broadcasts, like Champions League. And don't get me wrong, I think Pedro Gomez is an excellent reporter, but less is more when it comes to sideline reports.
- Lastly, I love Alexi Lalas doing studio work. His enthusiasm for the game is contagious. His personality is perfect for the public eye rather than behind the scenes. I hope he sticks with TV for awhile.*
(*How cool would a weekly half-hour MLS show featuring Lalas and Eric Wynalda be? Two of American soccer's most opinionated and colorful voices together in the same studio? C'mon, who WOULDN'T want to see that?)
- Great atmosphere. I love how a city like Columbus, which is by no means a major metropolitan area or even a Houston or Phoenix (sites of the previous two USA-Mexico matches), can really throw down and make it an event. My dad walked in just after kickoff, and upon hearing the crowd, asked, "I thought we were watching soccer?" We are. "Wow. It sounds like a Duke-North Carolina game."
- I'm starting to feel a man-crush coming on for Giovani Dos Santos, the 19-year-old wunderkid who nearly made it cero a uno in the first ten minutes. It's rare to see a player so comfortable with the ball, even while plowing through defenders. Even though his early shot on Tim Howard yearned for a better finish, you can't help but wonder how much better this kid's going to get once he's old enough to date.
- Where the heck was Sacha Kljestan? I was expecting a solid performance after he wowed us with his hat trick last month. You tease us, Sacha. Or Gordon. Whoever you really you were last night. I couldn't tell, especially with that new close-cropped haircut.
- Speaking of fine performances, yes, I heart Michael Bradley. What a performance, on both ends. His goals speak for themselves - especially that fearless rocket from outside the 18 during injury time. Do I want to name him to the World Cup roster right now? You bet I do.
- I have to shout out Heath Pearce, whom I did not know until last night, had actually played the most minutes (945) for the MNT in 2008. He's quietly put together an impressive resume over the past two years.
- I don't think Rafa Marquez's collision with Tim Howard in the waning minutes was as malicious as it appeared to be. If you watch the replay closely, he actually leads into Howard with his shoulder, bracing for impact. The reason his studs show up appears to be a reflex of not wanting to fall awkwardly rather than causing injury. I know any player, even one of Marquez's world-class pedigree can lose his cool, but I think a red card, in that circumstance, was unjustified.
- The idea that the U.S. is closing the gap on Mexico in relation to claiming the title of top country in CONCACAF won't be validated until the Yanks win at Azteca. It's easier to beat Mexico on home soil, even if the Mexican contingency outnumbers the Americans more often than not. If the Yanks find themselves on the winning end of USA-Mexico in Mexico, THEN we can start talking about USA being the better team.*
(*Among other factors. Mexico is still superior technically. They're much more confident with the ball. Once they get a decent manager, look out.)
- Mexico had no business pressing the issue between the 78th and 88th minutes. The U.S. needs to learn how to start closing out matches if they hope to make any kind of impact in South Africa next summer. It was anyone's match until Bradley's second goal.
- The camera work and production of the broadcast still leaves alot to be desired. There were at least three occasions where a live ball was out of picture. This almost never happens during other ESPN international broadcasts, like Champions League. And don't get me wrong, I think Pedro Gomez is an excellent reporter, but less is more when it comes to sideline reports.
- Lastly, I love Alexi Lalas doing studio work. His enthusiasm for the game is contagious. His personality is perfect for the public eye rather than behind the scenes. I hope he sticks with TV for awhile.*
(*How cool would a weekly half-hour MLS show featuring Lalas and Eric Wynalda be? Two of American soccer's most opinionated and colorful voices together in the same studio? C'mon, who WOULDN'T want to see that?)
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Isn't there a soccer game on tonight?
As of 12:23pm today, here are the top headlines on espn.com.
Gone for good? Favre tells Jets he's retiring
Tejada pleads guilty to lying to Congress
J.J. won't wear finger brace in Daytona qualifier *
Sharks close gap on NHL-best B's LeBrun
Margarito, his trainer have licenses revoked
Jeter will wait to talk A-Rod No interest in D.C.
Thumb surgery knocks Vonn out of giant slalom **
Miller rips steroid 'witch hunt' More leaks?
Williams replaces Bosh as All-Star Cavs fall
Rumors: Haynesworth to Tampa Bay?
(*Is this a joke? Is this supposed to be funny? I think I have a decent sense of humor. But really? Does the status of a NASCAR driver's finger seriously outweigh the newsworthiness of a celebrated soccer rivalry that will commence in less than 12 hours? Holy. Crap.)
(**Two - TWO - finger injuries are apparently more significant than USA-Mexico. I think I may just boycott espn.com for the next 48 hours.)
What. Gives.
Gone for good? Favre tells Jets he's retiring
Tejada pleads guilty to lying to Congress
J.J. won't wear finger brace in Daytona qualifier *
Sharks close gap on NHL-best B's LeBrun
Margarito, his trainer have licenses revoked
Jeter will wait to talk A-Rod No interest in D.C.
Thumb surgery knocks Vonn out of giant slalom **
Miller rips steroid 'witch hunt' More leaks?
Williams replaces Bosh as All-Star Cavs fall
Rumors: Haynesworth to Tampa Bay?
(*Is this a joke? Is this supposed to be funny? I think I have a decent sense of humor. But really? Does the status of a NASCAR driver's finger seriously outweigh the newsworthiness of a celebrated soccer rivalry that will commence in less than 12 hours? Holy. Crap.)
(**Two - TWO - finger injuries are apparently more significant than USA-Mexico. I think I may just boycott espn.com for the next 48 hours.)
What. Gives.
The morning of USA-Mexico
Here we are.After weeks of media coverage that only a recluse could appreciate, the American soccer's annual showcase event has arrived. USA-Mexico.
Never-ending series' of press conferences? None here. Drawn out ten hour pre-game shows? No, because God is a soccer fan, and He'd never abandon us like that. A four hour barrage of multi-million dollar commercials? No, thankfully, because commercials are only shown at halftime.*
(*I've already come to the point where any commercial break during a college or pro football game - especially right after a kick or punt return - will cause me to chuck my foam stress ball at the screen. What can I say? I've been spoiled by soccer.)
USA-Mexico is missing all that because, quite frankly (and almost refreshingly), this really just about the game. This is about true, unbridled passion for the world's game. It doesn't need any artifical sweeteners.
This is a game that involves a pair of national teams that don't play especially well with each other. This is a raw, bitter rivalry that calls into question the sanity of its supporters. This is Red Sox-Yankees, Dodgers-Giants, and Michigan-Ohio State all rolled up into one. On acid.* This is dos a cero. This is something that the actual Super Bowl itself could only wish it was.
(*Have you ever seen flying bags of blood and/or urine, razors or nails at Celtics-Lakers game? Or banners featuring the el Diablo dressed in the opponent's attire at a Michigan-Ohio State game? Did you ever see Derek Jeter hawk a loogie on Dustin Pedroia after a take out slide? Didn't think so.)
Because this is our Super Bowl, and because the mainstream media has largely ignored it, I'm making it a point to showcase USA-Mexico the best way I can. This includes:
1. Wearing my white U.S. jersey to work. I've been too lazy to get it numbered - which is perfect, because my employer won't bitch about it.
2. Going to the drive-thru at Taco Bell, ordering a 10-taco plus Mexican pizza feast, parking my car in the lot, then proceeding to wildly stomp on it like it was on fire or something. I know what you're thinking: I just blew $13 on that little exercise. To that I say: it's still cheaper than therapy.
3. Wearing my Don't Tread on Me jersey during the match. I'm also ordering pizza, wings, cheesy breadsticks, and those really tasty Cinnastix. I'll be consulting my cardiologist the following morning.
4. In true big event tradition, I have placed a wager on this with a friend...of a friend - I won't name him here (it's Joe!) - who's rooting for El Tri. In the same vein as past Super Bowl bets, the loser has to wear the jersey of the winner's team in public. In this instance, this public display of loserdom will be the first match of Providence's Mexican Soccer League season in May. Here's hoping that Joe - who, you may have guessed, has Mexican blood - will be mocked by his peers while sporting my Brian McBride jersey along the East Side when the weather finally turns warm.
5. I have a prediction. Before said I announce said predication, I've consulted with my mother, who's despised Mexico since the Brazil-Mexico match we caught at Gillette Stadium a couple of years ago.*
(*Have you ever seen flying bags of blood and/or urine, razors or nails at Celtics-Lakers game? Or banners featuring the el Diablo dressed in the opponent's attire at a Michigan-Ohio State game? Did you ever see Derek Jeter hawk a loogie on Dustin Pedroia after a take out slide? Didn't think so.)
Because this is our Super Bowl, and because the mainstream media has largely ignored it, I'm making it a point to showcase USA-Mexico the best way I can. This includes:
1. Wearing my white U.S. jersey to work. I've been too lazy to get it numbered - which is perfect, because my employer won't bitch about it.
2. Going to the drive-thru at Taco Bell, ordering a 10-taco plus Mexican pizza feast, parking my car in the lot, then proceeding to wildly stomp on it like it was on fire or something. I know what you're thinking: I just blew $13 on that little exercise. To that I say: it's still cheaper than therapy.
3. Wearing my Don't Tread on Me jersey during the match. I'm also ordering pizza, wings, cheesy breadsticks, and those really tasty Cinnastix. I'll be consulting my cardiologist the following morning.
4. In true big event tradition, I have placed a wager on this with a friend...of a friend - I won't name him here (it's Joe!) - who's rooting for El Tri. In the same vein as past Super Bowl bets, the loser has to wear the jersey of the winner's team in public. In this instance, this public display of loserdom will be the first match of Providence's Mexican Soccer League season in May. Here's hoping that Joe - who, you may have guessed, has Mexican blood - will be mocked by his peers while sporting my Brian McBride jersey along the East Side when the weather finally turns warm.
5. I have a prediction. Before said I announce said predication, I've consulted with my mother, who's despised Mexico since the Brazil-Mexico match we caught at Gillette Stadium a couple of years ago.*
(*It stems from a sequence in which we were stuck in traffic along Route 1 on our way to the match. We're chatting about the Brazilians, and how cool it'll be to see Ronaldinho, Kaka and Robinho and h - - BEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!!!!
That was the sound of a 150-decibel truck horn blared by an F-350 draped in Mexican flags. My mom, ever the cool customer, proceeded to hurl a few choice words at the driver, who looked like Deebo from Friday. I was scurred. She was not. The guy thankfully ignored her. Ever since then, my mom cannot hear mention of the El Tri without scowling something along the lines of "those jerks.")
So yeah, I asked her for a prediction. Six to zero, USA. Seis a cero. That's extreme. So I'll half it, and give Mexico a goal. An own goal.
Therefore, my prediction: tres a uno. USA, of course.
That was the sound of a 150-decibel truck horn blared by an F-350 draped in Mexican flags. My mom, ever the cool customer, proceeded to hurl a few choice words at the driver, who looked like Deebo from Friday. I was scurred. She was not. The guy thankfully ignored her. Ever since then, my mom cannot hear mention of the El Tri without scowling something along the lines of "those jerks.")
So yeah, I asked her for a prediction. Six to zero, USA. Seis a cero. That's extreme. So I'll half it, and give Mexico a goal. An own goal.
Therefore, my prediction: tres a uno. USA, of course.
(EDIT: Ooops, I actually meant to give some sort of pre-match analysis. It's clear I got sidetracked. If I have any time in between work and class - which ends ten minutes before the 7:00pm start time* - I'll see if I can horde together a few intelligible thoughts and spill them here.)
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Awesomeness: WPS releases its 2009 schedule
It may be hard to believe amid all the steroid talk and the ubiquitous post-Super Bowl hangover*, but there actually exists some positive developments in the world of sports. No joke.
(*It's been - what - eight days since Super Bowl XLIII and we're talking about the condition of Ben Roethlisberger's ribs. Obsessed much, America?)
Yes, Women's Professional Soccer has released its 2009 season schedule, and with it, the hope and promise of even more pro soccer for us to savor.
In a way, I'm actually looking forward to the WPS season than the MLS season. Call me crazy. But there's something about the first season of WPS that appeals to my journalistic antennae. It could be the whole idea that each of these players carries a common goal: to help the league succeed. And there's something admirable in that, not unlike the mission set forth by the first MLS players 13 years ago.
Okay, I won't lie. It's also because I want to be part of this first season in some shape or form. To tell my grandkids that Vovô was there when it all began. Call me a media gadfly. I won't apologize for that. Besides, I missed the first seasons of MLS because my journalistic sense was, shall we say, pretty awful.* Hey, I was still bumming rides to school and eating cafeteria ravioli back then.
(*Yep, I failed tenth grade English. Real journalists just don't fail English. Ever. That's like an actuary failing math. Or a soccer player failing free period.)
So to me, there's something remarkable about watching this first season of WPS. For many of these players, this is their first taste of pro sports. Alot of them probably won't be good with cliches.* In addition to training and travelling, they also have the task of trying to covert the women's soccer Gentiles. It isn't just an ordinary season - it's a crucial five-month stretch that will likely determine whether this league will succeed in years to come or fall flat on its face.
(*Thank God. During the course of my very first MLS player interview, the player - who will remain anonymous - unleashed the cliche hounds on me. It wasn't one after another. It was like six dozen followed by six dozen more. At the time, I was too nervous to even notice. But a few years later, in hindsight, I noticed that he couldn't provide me a single original thought. Thanks alot. Flake.)
On a personal note, I cannot help but root for these women. I'm sure the vast majority of them would likely earn far more utilizing their college degrees. However, they're playing doing this for something greater. Something far more rewarding than a 9-5 office job. Perhaps they're doing this in the spirit of a concept that has been lost - even tarnished - by many of today's professional athletes. For love of the game.
It's funny, because upon reflection, WPS is already an escape for me. A great way to duck all of the persistent evils in modern sports. Drugs. Cheating. Gambling. Arrests. It's a list that never seems to end. And luckily, WPS will serve as more than just a soccer league. It'll serve as a safe haven for those of us who've lost our faith in today's professional athlete.
For I highly doubt you'll find any steroid scandals, criminal endeavors, or public mudslinging in WPS. For the most part, it will just be about the game. It'll be about discovering some of the world's best female soccer players - which, in case you haven't noticed, are pretty darn good. It'll be about the return of an innocence that so many professional (even college) sports have lost during the course of my lifetime. WPS, to me, is a league with a host of players that I can believe in, much like MLS.
Belief. Remember when it was easy to believe that an athlete valued this wonderful concept called honor? That it went without saying. The honor of playing with integrity. Honesty. Fairness. Let me tell you, that belief hasn't died. I'm optimistic that such a belief will not only live, but thrive in WPS.
And because of that, I couldn't be more thrilled about this league.
(*It's been - what - eight days since Super Bowl XLIII and we're talking about the condition of Ben Roethlisberger's ribs. Obsessed much, America?)
Yes, Women's Professional Soccer has released its 2009 season schedule, and with it, the hope and promise of even more pro soccer for us to savor.
In a way, I'm actually looking forward to the WPS season than the MLS season. Call me crazy. But there's something about the first season of WPS that appeals to my journalistic antennae. It could be the whole idea that each of these players carries a common goal: to help the league succeed. And there's something admirable in that, not unlike the mission set forth by the first MLS players 13 years ago.
Okay, I won't lie. It's also because I want to be part of this first season in some shape or form. To tell my grandkids that Vovô was there when it all began. Call me a media gadfly. I won't apologize for that. Besides, I missed the first seasons of MLS because my journalistic sense was, shall we say, pretty awful.* Hey, I was still bumming rides to school and eating cafeteria ravioli back then.
(*Yep, I failed tenth grade English. Real journalists just don't fail English. Ever. That's like an actuary failing math. Or a soccer player failing free period.)
So to me, there's something remarkable about watching this first season of WPS. For many of these players, this is their first taste of pro sports. Alot of them probably won't be good with cliches.* In addition to training and travelling, they also have the task of trying to covert the women's soccer Gentiles. It isn't just an ordinary season - it's a crucial five-month stretch that will likely determine whether this league will succeed in years to come or fall flat on its face.
(*Thank God. During the course of my very first MLS player interview, the player - who will remain anonymous - unleashed the cliche hounds on me. It wasn't one after another. It was like six dozen followed by six dozen more. At the time, I was too nervous to even notice. But a few years later, in hindsight, I noticed that he couldn't provide me a single original thought. Thanks alot. Flake.)
On a personal note, I cannot help but root for these women. I'm sure the vast majority of them would likely earn far more utilizing their college degrees. However, they're playing doing this for something greater. Something far more rewarding than a 9-5 office job. Perhaps they're doing this in the spirit of a concept that has been lost - even tarnished - by many of today's professional athletes. For love of the game.
It's funny, because upon reflection, WPS is already an escape for me. A great way to duck all of the persistent evils in modern sports. Drugs. Cheating. Gambling. Arrests. It's a list that never seems to end. And luckily, WPS will serve as more than just a soccer league. It'll serve as a safe haven for those of us who've lost our faith in today's professional athlete.
For I highly doubt you'll find any steroid scandals, criminal endeavors, or public mudslinging in WPS. For the most part, it will just be about the game. It'll be about discovering some of the world's best female soccer players - which, in case you haven't noticed, are pretty darn good. It'll be about the return of an innocence that so many professional (even college) sports have lost during the course of my lifetime. WPS, to me, is a league with a host of players that I can believe in, much like MLS.
Belief. Remember when it was easy to believe that an athlete valued this wonderful concept called honor? That it went without saying. The honor of playing with integrity. Honesty. Fairness. Let me tell you, that belief hasn't died. I'm optimistic that such a belief will not only live, but thrive in WPS.
And because of that, I couldn't be more thrilled about this league.
Monday, February 09, 2009
Where's the HYPE? Part 1 of an ongoing series
I just checked my alarm clock. Yep, we’re less than 24 hours from USA-Mexico, and the only mainstream promotion I’ve seen for this match so far is a slick, 15-second spot in between SportsCenters while jogging at the gym Saturday morning.Really?
I thought this was a serious rivalry. Wait, it is. Especially this time around, because it’s a World Cup Qualifier and not just an obligatory friendly.
Apparently, no one at U.S. Soccer or ESPN got the memo. Either that, or they misplaced it.* I work in an office. It happens.
(* Just like I misplaced the "not" before "just" in the fourth paragraph. I've since edited it. To anyone who caught it the first time around: leave a comment, and I'll give you big ups in a future post. Honest.)
But this is a big memo. If there’s a bone I’ll pick all the way to the grave, it’s that the people in charge of American soccer – from the head honchos at U.S. Soccer all the way down – have total ineptitude when it comes to promoting the beautiful game. It’s soccer, guys (and gals), not soapbox derbies or ostrich racing. Sheesh.
And I could’ve sworn myself wrong when I received a tidy little Myspace message encouraging supporters to wear red at the match. What’s this? Maybe the Yanks would break out those awesome “Don’t Tread on Me” jerseys they found themselves kitted out in – of all matches – a friendly against Latvia* prior to the 2006 World Cup.
(*I actually went to this match – my very first US MNT match – and my mom purchased the limited edition red jersey for my birthday. God, I love that jersey. If it were possible to have a crush on a piece of sports apparel, I’d ask that thing out on a date for Saturday night. Gorgeous. The kind of beauty you'd show off in front of friends and jealous enemies alike.)
But, there appears to be little evidence to support the use of the red DTOM jersey, which is another clear indication that suits at U.S. Soccer don’t get it.
For American soccer fans, there are three certainties in life. Death. Taxes. USA-Mexico. God bless the Spanish-American War, NAFTA, and that Taco Bell chihuahua. So why doesn’t the federation go out of its way to promote the heck out of it?
Here’s some free advice: keep that glossy 15-second commercial. I like that. But make more of them. My pulse raced and adrenaline spiked every time I saw it while running on the treadmill.*
(*I’ve discovered through three years of treadmill hopping and the seven occasions in which I’ve watched the US Men’s National Team while on said machine that the two go together like Doritos and soda. Starburst and Sprite. Popcorn and chili powder.)
However, let’s take it a step further. Actually, few steps further.
The idea of the red Don't Tread on Me jersey for USA-Mexico matches would be a great way to ante up the rivalry, no? Why the heck not? It’s an event - an event that we American soccer fans are rarely afforded in a culture dominated by American football, the NFL, and American football. So, please, to the powers that be, USA-Mexico would be the perfect opportunity to break out the “Don’t Tread On Me” jerseys. Reinforce the idea that this is a big deal. It sends a clear message to the Mexicans that you don’t know who you’re messing with. Attitude. I like it. Now run with it.
Another idea: I say the Sam’s Army section at every USA-Mexico match has discounted admission. Like, a paper Lincoln per seat. I want to see hordes of American soccer get buck in there. I want bedlam. I want to see a tidal wave of red in that section. I want chicks in red bras to…oh wait, sorry.
Speaking of bras – I want Brandi Chastain there. She’s a great sideline reporter. I love her insights. Okay, I admit, this is probably due to the fact that my mom loves her. But almost every American knows/remembers who she is. A little star power wouldn’t hurt.
Lastly – although I’ve got many more suggestions – shouldn’t we get some live reports from each camp in the 72 hours leading up to this? Isn’t that what major events like the U.S. Open, major BCS bowls, and rivalry matches across the spectrum receive?
I know that’s the media’s job. But really, if ESPN is so intent on increasing its coverage of soccer – see the Spanish, English and Mexican league scores now featured on the ESPN Bottom Line – why doesn’t U.S. Soccer push for live updates to be featured on the 6pm SportsCenters? It would be foolish to say that there isn’t an audience for this – a 90-minute sellout seems to support the idea that a lot of people are a lot more interested in this than say, I don’t know, the endless blabber that gets broadcast on the station between 4:30 and 6:00pm. Somebody give me a Vicodin.
Okay, it’s obvious I’m getting emotional here. But I can’t help it. I’ve had the date circled on my 2009 MLS calendar since January 1. My red “Don’t Tread On Me” jersey awaits on my door knob, ready for action come Wednesday.
USA-Mexico. This is a big deal. So why won’t U.S. Soccer treat it that way?
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Soccer and steroids
Yesterday morning, a Sports Illustrated report fingered Alex Rodriguez - the best player in baseball - as a steroid user. A cheater.
Rodriguez, whom many believed to be "clean" from illegal performance enhancers, reportedly tested positive for steroids in 2003. Today, his name, as well as his sport, are getting dragged through the mud as a result.
The A-Rod controversy is particularly saddening for me. I love baseball. I don't want to believe it. To a fan like myself, his reported abuse forces me to cast suspicion upon every baseball superstar, not to mention the veracity of every impressive statistic.
Luckily, I also love soccer, a game where there the steroid culture doesn't exist. Or does it?
We know that Jon Conway and Jeff Parke were suspended for taking illegal performance enhancers. But can we honestly believe, with all certainty, that they are the only players abusing them?
I don't know the answer to that. I want to believe that Conway and Parke are simply two bad apples. They claim that they weren't taken intentionally, unaware that an over the counter ehnancer contained the illicit drug. Unfortunately, I don't buy that for one-tenth of a second.
Professional athletes aren't dumb when it comes to nutrition. In my experience with talking to pro athletes - whether it be soccer, baseball or football players, friends or the athletes I cover- the vast majority of them know what exactly is going onto their bodies. They have to. Their careers depends upon it.
Having said that, is it difficult to imagine a soccer player taking performance enhancers? In terms of other sports like baseball or football - yes. The abuse of PEs in both sports have been well documented, and addressed with aggressive anti-doping standards in each sport, particularly baseball.
I know what you might be thinking: baseball and football players need steroids to bulk up. Why would soccer players need it?
Let me answer that question with a question: why do track stars and sprinters take steroids? To gain speed. To get faster. Sounds like an attribute one might need in soccer, no?
It's obvious that baseball and football have battled to fight the performance enhancement issue. Both sports have enforced stricter testing methods in effort to catch any perpetrators. All the while, soccer has, thankfully, remained well outside of the media storm.
But that isn't to say that soccer, including MLS, is completely clean. Shortly after the Conway and Park incident, a colleague of mine requested to speak with an MLS manager about the problem. He was told - and I quote - "no questions about steroids" by the club public relations director. Yikes.
Does a comment like this hint at a possible a steroid problem within MLS? I hope not. I want to believe that all of the statistics, the records, the achievements - EVERYTHING - in MLS is legit, unlike the way it is in Major League Baseball. I want to believe that MLS players have finer-tuned moral compasses than their tarnished sporting counterparts. I want to believe that MLS is a clean league with clean players.
But after A-Rod, who was supposedly deemed clean by many, was implicated as a steroid abuser, I can't shake my suspicions. Not even when it comes to soccer.
The steroid issue has robbed me of the faith I once had in baseball. There was a time when you could believe in sports. You could believe that an element of fairness could be found. It was supposed to be inherent.
And this is just one of the many reasons why I have faith in American soccer. To me, it is one of the final bastions where fairness prevails on the majority. A sport that - at least Stateside -remains pure.
I hope my faith in MLS is well-placed. But I can't help but wonder sometimes...
Rodriguez, whom many believed to be "clean" from illegal performance enhancers, reportedly tested positive for steroids in 2003. Today, his name, as well as his sport, are getting dragged through the mud as a result.
The A-Rod controversy is particularly saddening for me. I love baseball. I don't want to believe it. To a fan like myself, his reported abuse forces me to cast suspicion upon every baseball superstar, not to mention the veracity of every impressive statistic.
Luckily, I also love soccer, a game where there the steroid culture doesn't exist. Or does it?
We know that Jon Conway and Jeff Parke were suspended for taking illegal performance enhancers. But can we honestly believe, with all certainty, that they are the only players abusing them?
I don't know the answer to that. I want to believe that Conway and Parke are simply two bad apples. They claim that they weren't taken intentionally, unaware that an over the counter ehnancer contained the illicit drug. Unfortunately, I don't buy that for one-tenth of a second.
Professional athletes aren't dumb when it comes to nutrition. In my experience with talking to pro athletes - whether it be soccer, baseball or football players, friends or the athletes I cover- the vast majority of them know what exactly is going onto their bodies. They have to. Their careers depends upon it.
Having said that, is it difficult to imagine a soccer player taking performance enhancers? In terms of other sports like baseball or football - yes. The abuse of PEs in both sports have been well documented, and addressed with aggressive anti-doping standards in each sport, particularly baseball.
I know what you might be thinking: baseball and football players need steroids to bulk up. Why would soccer players need it?
Let me answer that question with a question: why do track stars and sprinters take steroids? To gain speed. To get faster. Sounds like an attribute one might need in soccer, no?
It's obvious that baseball and football have battled to fight the performance enhancement issue. Both sports have enforced stricter testing methods in effort to catch any perpetrators. All the while, soccer has, thankfully, remained well outside of the media storm.
But that isn't to say that soccer, including MLS, is completely clean. Shortly after the Conway and Park incident, a colleague of mine requested to speak with an MLS manager about the problem. He was told - and I quote - "no questions about steroids" by the club public relations director. Yikes.
Does a comment like this hint at a possible a steroid problem within MLS? I hope not. I want to believe that all of the statistics, the records, the achievements - EVERYTHING - in MLS is legit, unlike the way it is in Major League Baseball. I want to believe that MLS players have finer-tuned moral compasses than their tarnished sporting counterparts. I want to believe that MLS is a clean league with clean players.
But after A-Rod, who was supposedly deemed clean by many, was implicated as a steroid abuser, I can't shake my suspicions. Not even when it comes to soccer.
The steroid issue has robbed me of the faith I once had in baseball. There was a time when you could believe in sports. You could believe that an element of fairness could be found. It was supposed to be inherent.
And this is just one of the many reasons why I have faith in American soccer. To me, it is one of the final bastions where fairness prevails on the majority. A sport that - at least Stateside -remains pure.
I hope my faith in MLS is well-placed. But I can't help but wonder sometimes...
Throwback match: New York Cosmos vs. New England Tea Men
(I recently purchased a DVD of a New York Cosmos-New England Tea Men match from 1979. For reasons unknown, I decided to whip out the laptop and compose a little match report. Below, is said match report. Thirty years late. What can I say? I wasn't born in time to crank one out then. Jeez, like it was my fault or something. Anyway...I know what you're asking: why am I posting it? Pfft. Because I can, that's why.)
June 24, 1979
EAST RUTHERFORD, N.J. -On a Sunday afternoon, the New England Tea Men confidently marched onto the turf at Giants Stadium after triumphing over the defending NASL champions the previous Fourth of July. The 1-0 overtime stunner was easily the club's biggest victory during its first season in the NASL.
Carrying those memories under a hot, summer sun, the Tea Men evaporated amid the conditions and dropped a 0-1 result to the defending NASL champions.
Shortly after the opening whistle, the Tea Men steered an attack on the Cosmos end when Keita took a ball from Ringo Cantillo and raced down the left flank. The Ghanian dusted a defender and cut toward the edge of box, primed for a good look at goal. With the seduction of an early goal before him, he uncorked a shot that sailed wide of the far post.
However, it would be the first of only very few chances for Noel Cantwell's lads. The Cosmos, under the direction of newly-appointed technical director - i.e. coach - Professor Julio Mezzei, grabbed the Tea Men by their orange collars and shook them for the remainder of the afternoon.
First, it was Bogie Bogivic, who's shot screamed over the bar early in the first half. Minutes later, Marinho, from his right back spot, pushed all the way to the doorstep of the box and fired a low shot that forced Kevin "The Cat" Keelin to the ground.
Though the scoreboard remained unblemished at the half, it was only a matter of time before the law of averages prevailed. The Cosmos were attacking at will, while the Tea Men escaped danger time after time thanks to Keelin and some impressive marking of Giorgio Chinaglia by Peter Carr.
During the second frame, the Cosmos opened with an aggresive attack and kept their foot on the accelerator at length thereafter. The Cat was tested often. A close-range shot from Bogie Bogicevic eyed the goal before Keelin's right foot pushed it away at the last possible second.
But Keelin could only do so much with a porous defense in front. On a well-assembled attack, the Cosmos put together a meticulous string of passes in New England territory. Bogicevic fed a pass to an onrushing Ricky Davis, who stepped up and launched a bending 23-yard shot that screamed past the dive of The Cat and buried itself into the orange twine.
From there, it was elementary. The Cosmos kept pressing. The Tea Men kept defending. And clock kept ticking.
From there, it was elementary. The Cosmos kept pressing. The Tea Men kept defending. And clock kept ticking.
Around 2:00pm eastern, the Cosmos got their revenge from the Tea Men, with an impressive 1-0 victory before 46,000+ witnesses.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Dream: to become the next Bob Costas
Yep, it's time again. Time for yet another personal post. By now, you probably don't need me tell you to skip over to another blog or site. My ego* won't take any offense.(And, just to warn you further, my ego is going to be the star of this post. So, if you like me right now, this may post leave you with a liquid Tylenol-like bad taste in your mouth. And if you really don't like me, you'll probably start making voodoo dolls with my likeness.)
So anyways, I was at my godparents house last Sunday watching the Super Bowl. Since the game was broadcast by NBC, Bob Costas led the pre- and post-game studio discussions. Naturally, this sparked a conversation with my godfather.
"Hey, Brian," said my godfather, cuing over to the TV. "That could be you in ten or twenty years?"
I LOL'd. A soccer journalist becoming the next American spokesman for all things sports? What's next? A game show host sitting on the board of a first division soccer club?*
(*Oh, snap...you mean Drew Carey REALLY is on the board for the Seattle Sounders? I mean, I know he loves soccer, and he's probably got alot more money than I'll ever see, but...R U SERIOUS? What service will he perform, other than playing FIFA '09 when Taylor Twellman and the Revs visit and making passing Sounders references on "The Price is Right"?)
Now, my godfather, who also happens to be my uncle and a second father to me, really has little interest in soccer.* His team is Benfica by virtue of my late-grandfather. It's a family thing. Like eating rabbit at Easter. Aside from that trailing interest in the sport, my uncle knows little more about the beautiful game.
(*And that's OK. I don't expect to brainwash the entire world to love soccer just yet. Besides, I'm still working on ideas to coerce Nicole Scherzinger into marrying me.)
So it's funny to me that he sincerely believes that his godson, a soccer journalist who has earned the equivalent of car payment during his burgeoning writing career, has the potential to someday sit at the roundtable with guys like Boomer Esiason, Jerome Bettis, or even that blowhard from MSNBC.
Of course, my godfather is biased. We're of the same blood. But, he sees my passion for sports. He's called me completely out of the blue to ask me the most random of sports questions.* He understands that while I may have ceded my dream to play professional sports, I have acquired another through the realm of sports journalism.
(*One particular call came less than five minutes after an English final. After about two hours and half hours of non-stop writing on literary discourse, my brain - or what was left of it - was essentially charcoaled toast. The fact that I could find my car afterward was a feat in itself.
So anyway, my right pocket begins to buzz just as I'm opening the door to my car, and it's my uncle. "Brian, I just have a quick question for ya. Why are the Minnesota Twins called 'the Twins?' " I forget exactly what I said, so to avoid of misquoting myself here, I think I said something along the lines of St. Paul and Minneapolis are the Twin Cities, and thus, the baseball team is called the Twins. I even said something to the effect that their logo has/once had a picture of supposed twins shaking hands. Did I mention my brain was toast at this point?)
But my uncle brought up an interesting idea. It dawned upon me, as a journalist, that Bob Costas is the embodiment of American sports journalism. Almost anyone who holds an iota of sports knowledge knows who he is. You know an event is big when Bob Costas is either there, or speaking on it.
In essence, becoming the next Bob Costas is dream much like the dream of playing professional sports for both aspiring and successful sports journalists. It's like putting on the pinstripes, sporting the star, or wearing the white.
And who knows? Fantasy allows us to dream. Maybe in 2029, when MLS Cup, or whatever it's called then, will become a premier television event, much like the Super Bowl. A pre-game, halftime, and post-game studio show will be required. Somebody's gotta lead the discussion. Why not me?
Alas, reality will likely step in and grant the title of "the next Bob Costas" to someone who is much better versed, more knowledgeable, and well-connected. That is fine. But I guarantee you that he not be better looking than me. Nor will he have the acute insight to proffer that Dave van den Bergh is the soccer equivalent of Sean Morey. So long as those variables remain in place, I can accept the next Bob Costas' existance, whoever he is/will be, as legitimate.
Meanwhile, I am what I am. Journalism is not my full-time gig. I simply write here whenever I feel like it. I've been afforded enough respect among my peers to write semi-regularly for an online soccer publication and appear on a weekly radio program. I've met and interviewed some really cool people. And you know what? In my own little world - my world within the world - I am the next Bob Costas.
And that's absolutely fine by me.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Thoughts on the USSF's bid for the '18 and '22 World Cups
As I'm sure you've heard by now,* the United States Soccer Federation officially announced its bids for the 2018 and 2022 World Cup Monday afternoon.
(*I apologize for waiting two days to write this. Yeah, I definitely finished my 18-page paper, but no sooner did I complete it that seven short stories, and a paper on those selections awaited. Homework. It never ends.)
Although it's just the first of many steps required to actually clinch the bid, it's worth noting that Monday's announcement marks third time in the past 25 years that the U.S. has officially bid on a World Cup.
On a personal and completely un-newsworthy level, that is three times during my 27 years on this planet that my home nation's soccer federation has bid on the its premier showcase. Think about that. The USA - a country which, historically, has struggled to field a world-class national team - has manned-up three times to ask for the World Cup to be played right here on its own shores. Pretty awesome, isn't it?
With each bid, the USSF had something more to offer. In 1984, when Colombia dropped out of its 1986 World Cup obligations at the last minute, FIFA scurried to find a replacement. The U.S. and Mexico were considered. The USSF posited that a recently-successful Summer Olympics in Los Angeles proved that it could host the quintessential large scale international convalcade. It had the stadiums. It had the money. It had Henry Kissinger, Steve Ross, and Pele' pushing for its bid. But its first division league - the NASL - was on life support. FIFA awarded the Cup to Mexico instead.
Undeterred, the U.S. renewed its bid in 1986 for the 1994 tournament. Many of the same factors - large stadiums, money, television, HenryKissinger, and a wealth of American sponsors (Coca-Cola, Gillette, Marlboro, Budweiser) - helped boost the bid in FIFA's eyes. Two years later, the U.S. was awarded the Cup, even without a national first division league.*
(*As part of its conditions, FIFA required the USSF to install a first division league by the time the Cup was held. Hence, Major League Soccer. Its first season - originally scheduled to begin play in the spring of 1994 - was pushed back twice, until it finally kicked off in '96.)
Now, 23 years later, the U.S. has cast its third bid for the Cup. And it is stronger than any bid imaginable, in my humble opinion. The stadiums that the USSF bragged about a generation ago have been replaced by bigger and better structures. A successful league is now in place. Many key sponsors are still American corporations. Plus, the passion for soccer in this country is no longer speculative. It is real. This country loves its soccer more now than ever before. It has never been more ripe to host a World Cup.
With that being said, I will be severely disappointed - crushed - if both the U.S. bids are defeated. I will be utterly inconsolable. I will lock myself in my house and eat PB&Js for the rest of my life. E-mails to FIFA will be pounded out incessantly until the smoke from my keyboard chokes me.
Call me ignorant, sheltered, or Brian. It makes no difference. The '94 Cup is still the highest-attended tournament in World Cup history, even though it proceeded without the benefit of a first division league or an expanded qualifying field (it was 24 until 1998, when the field expanded to 32). This country is a sports nation. Our culture is bathed in sports.* A Stateside tournament, whether it occur nine years or thirteen years from now, would not only top the attendance records set fifteen years ago, but it would absolutely obliterate even the most optimistic attendance figures projected by other country's bids.
(*For reference, see last Sunday's Super Bowl, or any other Super Bowl since the Reagan years for that matter. We're a bit obsessed.)
On a personal level, many of the kids who didn't get to see USA '94 in person - i.e. me - will get the chance to witness a World Cup in our backyards. The idea of witnessing a World Cup here almost brings man tears to my eyes. Not just for my sake, but moreso the idea that I will be able to take my future kids to a World Cup match. It gives me the jibblies. Ohhh...the jibblies.
And who knows? Maybe - just maybe - the kids and I will get to see the Yanks claim a World Cup on home soil.
Did I mention I'm excited about this?
(*I apologize for waiting two days to write this. Yeah, I definitely finished my 18-page paper, but no sooner did I complete it that seven short stories, and a paper on those selections awaited. Homework. It never ends.)
Although it's just the first of many steps required to actually clinch the bid, it's worth noting that Monday's announcement marks third time in the past 25 years that the U.S. has officially bid on a World Cup.
On a personal and completely un-newsworthy level, that is three times during my 27 years on this planet that my home nation's soccer federation has bid on the its premier showcase. Think about that. The USA - a country which, historically, has struggled to field a world-class national team - has manned-up three times to ask for the World Cup to be played right here on its own shores. Pretty awesome, isn't it?
With each bid, the USSF had something more to offer. In 1984, when Colombia dropped out of its 1986 World Cup obligations at the last minute, FIFA scurried to find a replacement. The U.S. and Mexico were considered. The USSF posited that a recently-successful Summer Olympics in Los Angeles proved that it could host the quintessential large scale international convalcade. It had the stadiums. It had the money. It had Henry Kissinger, Steve Ross, and Pele' pushing for its bid. But its first division league - the NASL - was on life support. FIFA awarded the Cup to Mexico instead.
Undeterred, the U.S. renewed its bid in 1986 for the 1994 tournament. Many of the same factors - large stadiums, money, television, HenryKissinger, and a wealth of American sponsors (Coca-Cola, Gillette, Marlboro, Budweiser) - helped boost the bid in FIFA's eyes. Two years later, the U.S. was awarded the Cup, even without a national first division league.*
(*As part of its conditions, FIFA required the USSF to install a first division league by the time the Cup was held. Hence, Major League Soccer. Its first season - originally scheduled to begin play in the spring of 1994 - was pushed back twice, until it finally kicked off in '96.)
Now, 23 years later, the U.S. has cast its third bid for the Cup. And it is stronger than any bid imaginable, in my humble opinion. The stadiums that the USSF bragged about a generation ago have been replaced by bigger and better structures. A successful league is now in place. Many key sponsors are still American corporations. Plus, the passion for soccer in this country is no longer speculative. It is real. This country loves its soccer more now than ever before. It has never been more ripe to host a World Cup.
With that being said, I will be severely disappointed - crushed - if both the U.S. bids are defeated. I will be utterly inconsolable. I will lock myself in my house and eat PB&Js for the rest of my life. E-mails to FIFA will be pounded out incessantly until the smoke from my keyboard chokes me.
Call me ignorant, sheltered, or Brian. It makes no difference. The '94 Cup is still the highest-attended tournament in World Cup history, even though it proceeded without the benefit of a first division league or an expanded qualifying field (it was 24 until 1998, when the field expanded to 32). This country is a sports nation. Our culture is bathed in sports.* A Stateside tournament, whether it occur nine years or thirteen years from now, would not only top the attendance records set fifteen years ago, but it would absolutely obliterate even the most optimistic attendance figures projected by other country's bids.
(*For reference, see last Sunday's Super Bowl, or any other Super Bowl since the Reagan years for that matter. We're a bit obsessed.)
On a personal level, many of the kids who didn't get to see USA '94 in person - i.e. me - will get the chance to witness a World Cup in our backyards. The idea of witnessing a World Cup here almost brings man tears to my eyes. Not just for my sake, but moreso the idea that I will be able to take my future kids to a World Cup match. It gives me the jibblies. Ohhh...the jibblies.
And who knows? Maybe - just maybe - the kids and I will get to see the Yanks claim a World Cup on home soil.
Did I mention I'm excited about this?
Monday, February 02, 2009
Back to business
Within the confines of a rural indoor sports complex, a collection of twenty odd professional footballers convene on a large green carpet, stretch their muscles, and kick around dozens of soccer balls for the first time this year.
Yes, the New England Revolution, under the guidance of manager Steve Nicol and his assistant Paul Mairner, return to their pitch away from home this morning, the first of many winter training sessions that await in 2009.
Though many professional athletes grow accustomed to a lifestyle that offers the best of the best - facilities, equipment, amenities - there is something completely unglamorous about the scene. The turf feels like a thick-bristled welcoming mat. The locker rooms are a five minute drive away, up north at Gillette Stadium. Heck, there aren't even benches.
Giving further humility to all involved, an old, musty smell permeates the entire complex. The cold New England air pervades through walls and ceiling. Journalists and spectators grip their hot coffees close. It is dark due to the low-voltage lights that hang above, giving it the all the atmosphere of a Soviet missile silo.
As usual, there are the familiar faces. There always are when it comes to a club who's employee turnover is comparable to that of Google's. Shalrie Joseph, Steve Ralston and Taylor Twellman are back. So are Jay Heaps and Matt Reis. All have painfully fallen short of MLS Cup glory on multiple occasions. In the back of their minds, they must wonder: will this finally be our year?
Sprinkled among the veterans, you'll also find a fresh crop of players all readying to make their professional debuts. There's first-round pick Kevin Alston running laps with his new mates, along with Zack Simmons defending a backyard-sized goal and Ryan Maxwell limbering up. They'll soon realize - if they haven't already - that this isn't college anymore. No more four month seasons. Goodbye, cute co-eds and frat parties. It's ten months of straight soccer from here on out.
And sometimes, amid all the familiar faces, distinct voices, and practical jokes, you begin to notice those who's not here.
Michael Parkhurst's mop of dark hair is bouncing around a Danish training ground. Khano Smith's mischievous laugh cannot be heard from Seattle. The strong-legged Adam Cristman is busy battling defenders in Barbeque City. The jokes that the affable Doug Warren cracked are missing. The absence of these familiar personalities are sharp reminder that no team, not even the Revolution, can stay together forever.
But there's no sense on dwelling on it. There is work to do.
Mariner gathers a group of lads to one corner to work on abdominal exercises. There, they lie on the backs, point their toes toward the ceiling, reach for them, forcing them to flex their cores. Back down. Up again. Back down. Up again...
Nicol takes another group for passing drills. Five players form a crude, close-quartered pentagon. The ball is traded with alacrity between alternating players. One player - a rookie - stands in the middle, desperately trying to disrupt the flow of the game.
Goalkeeper coach Gwynne Williams tutors his charges. He peppers their large leather mitts with close-fire. They sprawl. They leap. They get whacked in the face.
Despite all of the action, it's still early for full scrimmages. So, after an hour and a half of stretching, drills, and running, the players retreat to the cramped sidlelines and down a variety of colored sports drinks. Minutes later, after the sweat evaporates, the cold hits them. They quickly don their long, oversized winter jackets. Some chat with reporters. Others escape quietly to the exit, where team caravans are idling outside in the parking lot.
And thus, the closing bell has rung for the first of many Revolution preseason training sessions. The players, coaches, staffers and journalists will be here back tomorrow, ready to do it all over again. And again in the days and weeks thereafter, until the first day of spring - March 21st -affords them the real thing.
Yes, the New England Revolution, under the guidance of manager Steve Nicol and his assistant Paul Mairner, return to their pitch away from home this morning, the first of many winter training sessions that await in 2009.
Though many professional athletes grow accustomed to a lifestyle that offers the best of the best - facilities, equipment, amenities - there is something completely unglamorous about the scene. The turf feels like a thick-bristled welcoming mat. The locker rooms are a five minute drive away, up north at Gillette Stadium. Heck, there aren't even benches.
Giving further humility to all involved, an old, musty smell permeates the entire complex. The cold New England air pervades through walls and ceiling. Journalists and spectators grip their hot coffees close. It is dark due to the low-voltage lights that hang above, giving it the all the atmosphere of a Soviet missile silo.
As usual, there are the familiar faces. There always are when it comes to a club who's employee turnover is comparable to that of Google's. Shalrie Joseph, Steve Ralston and Taylor Twellman are back. So are Jay Heaps and Matt Reis. All have painfully fallen short of MLS Cup glory on multiple occasions. In the back of their minds, they must wonder: will this finally be our year?
Sprinkled among the veterans, you'll also find a fresh crop of players all readying to make their professional debuts. There's first-round pick Kevin Alston running laps with his new mates, along with Zack Simmons defending a backyard-sized goal and Ryan Maxwell limbering up. They'll soon realize - if they haven't already - that this isn't college anymore. No more four month seasons. Goodbye, cute co-eds and frat parties. It's ten months of straight soccer from here on out.
And sometimes, amid all the familiar faces, distinct voices, and practical jokes, you begin to notice those who's not here.
Michael Parkhurst's mop of dark hair is bouncing around a Danish training ground. Khano Smith's mischievous laugh cannot be heard from Seattle. The strong-legged Adam Cristman is busy battling defenders in Barbeque City. The jokes that the affable Doug Warren cracked are missing. The absence of these familiar personalities are sharp reminder that no team, not even the Revolution, can stay together forever.
But there's no sense on dwelling on it. There is work to do.
Mariner gathers a group of lads to one corner to work on abdominal exercises. There, they lie on the backs, point their toes toward the ceiling, reach for them, forcing them to flex their cores. Back down. Up again. Back down. Up again...
Nicol takes another group for passing drills. Five players form a crude, close-quartered pentagon. The ball is traded with alacrity between alternating players. One player - a rookie - stands in the middle, desperately trying to disrupt the flow of the game.
Goalkeeper coach Gwynne Williams tutors his charges. He peppers their large leather mitts with close-fire. They sprawl. They leap. They get whacked in the face.
Despite all of the action, it's still early for full scrimmages. So, after an hour and a half of stretching, drills, and running, the players retreat to the cramped sidlelines and down a variety of colored sports drinks. Minutes later, after the sweat evaporates, the cold hits them. They quickly don their long, oversized winter jackets. Some chat with reporters. Others escape quietly to the exit, where team caravans are idling outside in the parking lot.
And thus, the closing bell has rung for the first of many Revolution preseason training sessions. The players, coaches, staffers and journalists will be here back tomorrow, ready to do it all over again. And again in the days and weeks thereafter, until the first day of spring - March 21st -affords them the real thing.
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