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.

Can we blame Becks?

(I know I said that I had this 18-page paper due this week, and yeah, I'm definitely not finished, but I feel compelled to get this thought off my chest. )

I suppose we asked too much for a world-class footballer like David Beckham to play in a country that calls his trade "soccer" for five whole years.

After all, no matter how much money you throw at an athlete, footballer or otherwise, whether it be the league minimum or mega millions, the the deciding factor in a player's loyalty toward his employer almost always boils down to a single concept: happiness.

And it was clear that after a year-and-a-half of MLS, Becks wasn't happy. He was chained to a horrible club that missed the playoffs during both of his years. He chased down much too heavy crosses before waning crowds on plastic pitches. To him, this wasn't the kind of football he had in mind two summers ago. Which is exactly why he embraced an offseason loan to AC Milan.

No doubt, he surely enjoyed the challenge of proseltyzing the beautiful game here in America. Here was this handsome lad, with a world-class pedigree coming to the States to grab MLS and push it into the same limelight cast onto baseball, football and basketball. It was a noble - not to mention profitable - cause, not unlike the one Pele took up thirty or so years before Becks' arrival.

For the first few months, the spotlights shined brightly. The stadiums were packed. Talk shows were abuzz with - gasp! - MLS. The nightly news had features on the league's crown jewel. It was an exciting time for American soccer fans. This was going to be grand.

But then, reality bit. Hard. Becks' wasn't always fit. His club badly underachieved. So another superstar was brought in to manage. And Ruud Gullitt was equally horrible.

Before long, the feverish crowds, like the ones seen in 2007 when New York hosted Los Angeles before a sea of 65,000 fans became nothing more than recent memories. The American media's flirtation with soccer cooled. And Becks was still stuck on a poor team in a nascent league that was far removed from the blinding lights of European football.

And just like that, Beckhamania had folded up its tent. Gone were the hordes or media types at each match. Only slight bulges of interest remained.

That's not to say that Americans didn't like Beckham. I think most people generally had an appreciation for him, whether they liked soccer or were simply smitten over him. But I think that all the hype surrounding his arrival was just that: hype.

One man alone cannot alter the way Americans watch their sports. It was foolish to think this. It was preposterous to think that within five years, MLS could alter the landscape where the Big Four of American sports could add a fifth member. It was a noble attempt, sure, but one of pure fantasy.

And on the personal level, this whole grand experiment of increasing soccer's popularity all fell on the shoulders of David Beckham. I can only imagine that after eighteen months of injuries, lengthy transcontinental flights, and the stratospheric expectations, Becks, always the competitor, missed what it felt like to play big-time football.

Today, he plays with some of world's best players. The masses in Milan adore both he and his sport. His coach and new teammates love having him around. The owner is itching to write a check for a transfer. And David Beckham is finally happy.

And quite frankly, who could blame him?

OMG! No wai!

Becks wants to stay with Milan.

Wow, didn't see that one coming...

Bend it (the truth) like Beckham

First of all, let me just state for the record that I have no personal ill will toward David Beckham. I enjoy watching him play. He is one of the classiest big-name athletes I've ever covered.

But my job here is to be as fair* as possible, and not to put kiddie gloves on any story, even the ones involving people I actually like.

(*"Fair" as in "fair", not "fair" as in "infallible.")

That said, you probably read where former Galaxy GM Alexi Lalas believes that David Beckham's stay in Milan may extend beyond the winter.

We all know Alexi's a pretty candid guy. He's never been shy to say what's on his mind, whether he's right or wrong.

In this instance, I happen to agree with Alexi on his assessment that Beckham's lead spokesperson, Simon Oliveira, is telling a fib when he says Becks will be back Stateside on March 9th, which, according to the current Gregorian calendar, is exactly 59 days from today.

Two months in Milan? I don't think so. Only Hollywood stars, I mean, actors, go to Italy for two-month excursions. So let's measure common sense vs. the infallible words of a sports agent. Because we all know that whatever agents say is always written on stone tablets.

"Whilst we respect Alexi's right to an opinion, he has not been party to any contractual discussions on the loan agreement to Milan."

It is so ORDERED.

As much I, like many of us, wish soccer, like any sport, was a simply game in which honor, goodness, and one's word should always prevail like it does fables and fairytales, I am aware of the cold reality. Soccer can be a soulless business. One where handshake deals are made, and written contracts are forgotten faster than a New Year's resolution.

Plus, prima facie, it makes little business sense to go play for one of the world's biggest clubs for only a handful of matches. I could be very wrong, but I just don't see it.

I have the distinct feeling there is, as the the Transformers theme song once told my generation, more than meets the eye.

Stay tuned.