Monthly Archives: August 2009

The Weekend in Photos

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Arsenal and United butted heads while Chelsea and Liverpool feasted on lesser opposition. All the Premiership stars shone brightly, as Rooney, Arshavin, Gerrard, and Torres found the back of the net. But of course, a picture says so much more…

At Old Trafford…

In the first clash of heavyweights this season, United got the better of Arsenal by the narrowest of margins. While Andrei Arshavin scored on an indisputable bullet of a shot, the opener for United left room for debate.

BRITAIN SOCCER

Rooney, the allegedly felled party, also stepped forward to slot home the penalty kick and turn the tide of the game. He was defensive when asked about the decision. He also appeared angry about the summer happenings. When asked about the exodus of world class players from United, he channeled the spirit of Sean Connery in Dragonheart and belted “I am the last one.” We know Wayne. It’s okay to be frustrated. But stay on your feet.

Diaby

Meanwhile, the man responsible for United’s winner, Abou Diaby, made up all sorts of excuses for his mistake. “I thought it was United’s goal,” was definitely our favorite. However, a close second was “I want a new contract with improved wages per own-goal-not-scored.”

At the Bridge…

The Blues cruised to a 3-0 victory over Burnley, showing that diamonds are an Italian mistress’s best friend. Despite not scoring, Didier Drogba continued his fine form, setting the table on the first Chelsea goal and just generally making Burnley’s central defense wish they had stuck with highschool.

Drog

Despite not scoring a goal, Drogba was in a jovial mood. He noted that he stood second place in the EPL scoring charts and had three times as many goals at Nicolas Anelka. He then pulled out and waved a fistful of pounds, shouting “give me my money, give me my money.” Peter Kenyon was unavailable for comment.

At the Reebok…

Liverpool struggled to break down an organized Bolton side, but a man-advantage and late Gerrard bomb propelled the Reds to a 3-2 victory. When pointedly asked if Liverpool was a two-man side, Rafa Benitez smiled sheepishly.

Rafa

With a wink that was neither surreptitious nor convincing, Benitez explained that he “counted 11 Liverpool players on the field.” He also praised new signing Glen Johnson, who now has more goals than Dirk Kuyt and Ryan Babel combined. “Glen is a fantastic striker, however he could use some defending tips from Kuyt.”

MLS Manifesto – Rules of Engagement

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MLS

I have continued my barnstorming tour of MLS stadia this summer, this time visiting Community American Ballpark in Kansas City last night. While the Wizards struggled to break down an organized Real Salt Lake, and ended up losing 1-0, once again my thoughts drifted to certain basic principles for MLS. Several, in fact. And all of them have to deal with the stadium experience.

MLS Commandment #12 – Let Thy Freedom Ring…

I was disturbed at the hatred of freedom. Obligatory sitting? See it to believe it.

No Standing

I can understand the need for security and control – but as Thomas Jefferson once said, “freedom is also pretty cool, security problems aside.” Also, how can fans effectively express themselves? Plus, when sitting down, you cannot get the proper leverage to shimmy a rival fan with a carefully concealed butterfly knife. You won’t even break skin!

Luckily, other sections of the stadium had more lenient rules:

No Stand

While the standing is categorically prohibited, in this case due to “viewing concerns,” there are rightful exceptions for the scoring of a goal and the “shirt-shot.” For those UK fans unaccustomed to such in-game promotions, the shirt-shot is when a hitman uses the team jerseys as a silencer when killing an unlucky, randomly-selected rival fan. He then uses that jersey to clean up the blood.

Violating the Spirit of Rules #3 & #5 – Defy thy Colonial Master

Confusion has reigned when interpreting MLS Manifesto commandments #3 and #5, concerning the scarf and English. Basically, we must battle the insidious colonial masters at every turn. Sadly, at Community America Ballpark, the despondent tyrants have established a culinary foothold.

You K

Fish do not go with chips. In fact, fish should only be eaten by coastal-dwellers unable to obtain the necessary beef for a Big Mac. And chips? These were not chips. The gastronomical monstrosity more closely resembled the freedom (not french) fry.

Luckily, though, I saw signs of resistance.

Wizards 014

A local band of wheat beer -brewing guerilla mercenaries had established a fort nearby. We can only pray for a successful resistance, although no word yet on if they have been able to securing war financing from the French.

MLS Commanment #13 – Baseball is Not Football is Not Soccer

I understand that Community American ballpark is a stopgap measure – a proper soccer stadium is in the works, and Community America is much better than the cavernous catacombs of Arrowhead. Of course, when choosing between a bank-corporate sponsor and a name offensive to Native Americans, one is in a lose-lose situation.

But some images shocked the conscience. Psst, the soccer jersey did not hid the pitcher’s mound. Not even a little bit.

Take Me Out...

Also, the Wizards lost 1-0, despite having a man advantage for the entire second half. The Wizards did create a handful of half-chances, but Claudio Lopez’s corner kicks lacked the bite and height to trouble Real Salt Lake.

The final? Well, I left after the seventh inning stretch, but at the time it was a close 1 run affair, with two outs and a full count.

inning

The Holiest of Divers…

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HolyDiver

Remember that time your parents left you alone in the kitchen, and you took a cookie out of the jar on top of the refrigerator? And how the guilt caused indigestion and you couldn’t sleep the whole night? Well, this is professional soccer, and if a professional referee makes the wrong call, you would be an idiot not to take advantage. And get a full night’s sleep.

Thus, I don’t even give Rooney a slap on the wrist. He may be a diver, but he is this week’s holiest of divers.

Links we Robbed for Your own Good

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Wallet

The theme for today’s linkfest is classic United-related Onion-bag posts. For those of you who have been living in a cave for the last five years, the Onion-bag is a satirical site which turns its gaze to soccer.

Do you remember that Drogba released a rap album? It was awful. But, surprisingly, his freestyles incurred Rio Ferdinand’s rage.

More recently, spectators were shocked when, during the last epic Community Shield battle, Chelsea scored rather than knocking the ball out after an Evra injury. Sir Alex rued the double-standard, pleading for a new double-mistake rule. For the sake of competitive equality, of course.

Long before Rafa-rage stole the Anfield MC mic at press conferences, Houllier stoked the flames of PETA by making kitten-abuse accusations. Okay so that has little to do with United, but is probably my favorite Onion-bag article of all time.

Way back in 2006, Rooney made a miraculous recovery to play for Eriksson’s eternally doomed England World Cup squad. How? Eileen Drewery.

And finally, Eric Cantona gave Beckham a few PR tips on fan-relations.

I did some guestpiecery again this week, with a conventional piece on the upside of Darren Fletcher (yes he has one) for redrants and a less conventional piece on the Ramos-Ronaldo rumor at fistedaway.

Spanglish 102: La Defensa

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Reading

Alright class, please pull our your Real Academia dictionaries and turn to page 345. Tear out this page and use it as a napkin to clean up all the salsa sauce you just got on your lips. Okay, now onto today’s lesson.

“La defensa” is the defense. And I regret to tell you – it is feminine. That is to say, each word in Spanish has a gender: it is either masculine or feminine. Defense is feminine, you ask? You point to John Terry. Yes. I say. John Tery is feminine. Sortof.

“La defensa” refers to the concept of a defense. When referring to a specific defender, you would call him a “defensor.” A popular expression is “defender con una y carne.” This is a direct translation of “defending with tooth and nail.” There is a less population expression of “defender con navaja escondida” which is what Jamie Carragher does.

Your in class assignment is to look up those last two words. I’m waiting. You found them? Yeah, I totally agree.

Okay, we will conclude with a point of contention between the Spanish of the Americas and the mother tongue as spoken by our cruel, despondent colonial masters. The word? The bench.

In Spain, the colonizers call it “el banquillo.” When a player is on the bench, he is “chupando banquillo.” Literally, he is sucking the little bench. Spaniards love to add “uillo”, the diminutive, to words. It makes them feel big and strong.

In Mexico and other places, we borrow from the American phrase of “warm the bench.” The phrase is “calentar la banca.’ Notice how there is no “uillo.” Jut a plain, simple “banca.” Isn’t it better that way?

No homework today, class. But try to get some taquitos for breakfast if possible.

Owning Up to Ownership

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One word strikes laughter into the heart of American Sports franchise owners everywhere: relegation. Why? Because the philosophical assumption behind the US sports-economic model, “the cash cow dividend,” is so firmly entrenched that relegation is a non-starter, a concept so foreign and remote it merits myrth, not serious discuss. And the fans suffer.

BeakerI have my own bias: I am from Kansas City, a Midwest town known to the coastal bullies as fly-over country. While US sports enthusiasts debate between salary caps and luxury taxes with the pretext of competitive equality, the reality is reduced labor costs and increased profits for owners. Ironically, the cost to us, the medium-sized city fan, is complacency.

Cloud

But why? Why do we coddle ownership groups with public-private parks, a draft that rewards inadequacy, and no punishment for ineptitude? If you were paid for incompetence, would you work hard to become competent? If a player performs poorly, there are repercussions. Coaches have it ten times worse. But owners? A closed-door verbal barrage may await at the annual ownership retreat in La Vegas, in-between moist spinach-leaf massages.

Bathroom

Derivative investing hedge funds with their dream-inducing dividends wreaked havoc on financial markets, but of course we the ignorant investor played a part as well. Did we think when we cashed our checks? Did we stop to ask where the profit came from? Or where we too busy counting zeroes and rushing to the nearest liquor store and racetrack? Should we expect more of sports franchise owners? Should we expect more of ourselves?

Ostrich

Oh, and there one other element: promotion. For every risk, there is reward. If you could buy a second-division side and get a slice of a TV deal in two years time, would you roll the dice? Would promotion help to generate interest in the second-division sides? in turn, could that provide more opportunities to up-and-coming talent? Perchance.

Library

Regardless of the effects, the practicalities, and the logistics, we have to ask ourselves just why we still allow Ronald Reagan to sleep in our bed. The salary cap and luxury taxes have had the perverse effect of creating profit by profligacy. And its getting tougher to stomach.

Why wes ANDERSON isn't funny…

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Baby

So, Anderson is upset that he did not play in the Community Shield. Well, what do I have to say about Anderson that hasn’t already been said by Roger Ebert about the Life Aquatic by Wes Anderson? In short, Anderson provides creative passing and the occasional darting run, but “my rational mind informs me that this [player] doesn’t work.”

Of course, I still recall him getting turned with ease by Iniesta. Have you seen a less inspired act of defending? And now he has gone Tevez on Sir Alex. I just hope the door does not hit him on the way out…

Brazil Breaks the Sound-Language Barrier

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Cafe

This is a brilliant idea. The Brazilian organizing committee is teaching the tourism service industry English in anticipation of World Cup 2010. My only concern is a communication breakdown based on the different English dialects.

In short, the English courses absolutely must include differences between American and British English. An unsuspecting American tourist may say “tram” when asking about public transportation, and the concierge may interpret it as “tran” or “tranny.” In short, this may happen.

Don’t believe me? Well, this is a prime example of how easily the English language can be confused, even among Americans.

I rest my case.

The Weekend in Photos

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This weekend was a buffet of goals, as United and Arsenal demolished the relegation-strugglers of tomorrow.  Even Chelsea managed a comprehensive victory over Fulham, with the 2-0 scoreline deceivingly paltry.  But enough text, because a picture says so much more. Roughly 1,000 times more, to be exact.

At the Emirates…

The Gunners continued their fine form with a 4-1 demolition of pitiful Pompey. Curiously, Arsene Wenger omitted Alexander Song from the side, replacing him with Abra Cadabra Diaby. However, the young Frenchman channeled the spirit of Henries past, scoring two early goals to blow the game open. Sacre Bleu!

Diaby

When asked to reveal the secret of his Midas’ touch, Wenger coyly smiled and spoke nonchalantly about his passion for le netflix and frying snail larvae. “Ze problem iz, you must first fast ze snail for a veek before it is succulent. That is vy I have ze netflix.”

Wenger1

When pressed to clarify, Wenger pulled out a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, sipped it softly, and proclaimed “Today ve feast, for tomorrow ve die. That is not true, iz it not?” He could not confirm if that was a thinly-veiled remark about the upcoming visit to Old Trafford.

At the JJK Stadium…

United huffed, puffed, and finally blew down Wigan’s house to the tune of a 5 goal, second half avalanche. Wayne Rooney took a break from his favorite past time, volleyball, to bag a brace.

Rooney

While the goals by Wayne surprised nobody, the strikes from Michael Owen and Berbatov surely raised the eyebrows. In particular, Berbatov’s goal left the mouths watering, as he flicked a delicate self-pass over the on-rushing keeper before wildly swinging and barely connecting on the last touch.

Berbatov

Despite scoring, Berbatov sat tensely through the post-game press conference. He repeatedly interrupted reporters and asked, “was it good for you?” while smoking Marlboro red after Marlboro red. “Cause it was good for me.”

At Craven Cottage…

Nicolas Anelka. Nicolas A-smell-ka. After years of childhood torment, the Frenchman put to rest his demons by topping the Premiership scoring charts last season. And he was in blistering form against Fulham, assisting on Drogba’s opening goal and then sealing the game with an ice cold finish in the second half.

Anelka

At the press conference, Anelka’s swagger over shadowed the journalistic inquiries. “I am not a mercurial, ego-driven talent…if anything, pluto is my favorite planet and Disney character. Compare me to him” It remains to be see if Ancellotti can keep Nicolas’s head on straight, but for now the planet Anelka is orbiting just fine.

At Anfield…

Our Scouser correspondent swore that Liverpool had a match this weekend and promised to cover it. There was just one problem: the game is actually Monday afternoon. When pressed on the issue, our correspondent merely called us “a jarg” and said he would “swerve on the match.” The confusion continues…

MLS Manifesto – Defammation of Deities

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MLS

So I was able to catch the Houston-Seattle game, a potential preview of the Western Conference final. The Dynamo owned the first half, but failed to capitalize on a significant possession advantage. They had a 1-0 lead at the half due to a Brad Davis goal, but deserved more. Seattle clawed back for a goal, but what bothered me happened in the stands.

And what I saw requires an addendum to the beloved MLS Manifesto Destino. If you are reading this blog with a young reader, please cover his or her eyes. Because while at Robertson stadium, I saw…

Dalglish1

Did you catch it? Okay, a somewhat closer look…

Dalglish2

Questions abound. Does this man know that Kenny Dalglish played for Celtic and Liverpool, but never for the Dynamo? Also, and more importantly, King Kenny wore Keegan’s beloved Seven with aplomb, not the number eight.

Thus, we have a new rule for ex-pats that follow MLS: thou shall not defame your beloved premiership deities on MLS jerseys. EVER.