Ebooks do not magically appear. When I first started to write “An Illustrated Guide,” the novelty and fun of self-publishing filled me with energy. All the little setbacks were miniature hurdles for me to jump with ease. Then, last month, I filed my taxes. What did I find out? Well, after adding up a few too many 1099-miscs, it dawned on me: I am being way too straight with Uncle Sam. Also, publishing a soccer eBook takes some cash. Sadly, with a modest paying real life job and two kids, the upfront cash for this second eBook is not available. I was going to sell blood and potentially other, more lucrative, bodily fluids, but my better half put her foot down. Turner plasma shall stay within the Turner family. Needy blood transfusion patients be damned!

There is, however, still hope.

Here’s where you come in. I am Kickstartering for the $1,000 that an eBook needs to exist. Yes, I need your help to raise $1,000 by June 6. These funds will cover original artwork by Erik Ebeling, tech stuff (ePub/Mobi conversion), legal stuff (ISBN & Copyright), and other necessary & boring publishing crap that adds up. We’ve crafted some pretty cool rewards, including an Advanced Copy of the book for $15, a PDF-ePub-MOBI bundle of An Illustrated Guide for $10, a Real Madrid jersey SIGNED BY JUNITO for big spenders, and some signed original prints for ballers. Unfortunately, Dr. Dre was on tour with a hologram and unable to donate any custom Ferenc Puskas “Ghostface Playa” signature headphones. We are just as disappointed as you are.

For the curious at heart, the new book, titled “Real Madrid & Barcelona: the Making of a Rivalry,” will cover the history of Real Madrid & Barcelona from 1899 until 1999. It will go decade by decade and analyze important players, coaches, games, moments, and developments. It will also add political and economic background to illuminate the motives and actions of key individuals. Erik Ebeling has agreed to do the artwork, while (phonetically) Ell-e-o-t-t Turner, me, shall pen the words. No, I don’t actually use a pen. I type on an ergonomic keyboard. But you know what I mean. I’m a lifelong Real Madrid fan, but have loads of respect for Barcelona. I promise balance and honesty in addressing both teams. The Cules have a great history as both a sporting and political institution. I even waxed about recent board room brawls at the Run of Play.

Here’s the ubiquitous “get pumped about this project” video that I made for Kickstarter. I’m pretty confident that my use of a sample from Massive Attack qualifies as fair use under US law, but put the video on Youtube in case Kickstarter doesn’t share my expansive legal perspective:

So, check out the Kickstarter page here and, if you dare, pre-order a copy to support the cause, get your hands on a Real Madrid jersey signed by Junito, or splash the cash to get a full deck of playing cards of the forthcoming illustrations. And you thought your beta MTG Black Lotus was hot shit! Neerrrrrd alerrrrrrrt.

Once again, get more details and/or show your support here. Pretty please. You know it’s more productive than trolling Pottermore and tracking down Dark Knight Rises plot spoilers.

Images: Real Madrid, Barcelona

Song: Massive Attack, “Teardrop”

Hopefully.

Q: Habermaster, you’ve written extensively about the concept of “communicative rationalty.” Basically, you posit that human rationality is the fruit of successful communication. You take a microscope to the norms of argumentation and focus on the phenomena communicated between entities capable of speech and action. Thus, we have to ask – was Jose just being irrational when he stopped communicating with the press? What was up with that?

A: Perhaps the greatest challenge of any philosophy is escaping the pull of relativity on the one hand and indeterminate deconstruction on the other. My theory rests on the concept of reconstructive science – namely, that reason itself is malleable, and thus in constant flux. It is not relative, but rather evolving. Thus, Jose evolved from the big mouthed and arrogant “Special One” to the quiet yet successful La Liga champion. While his capacity for speech disappeared, his actions spoke as loud as words.

Q. Habity-hab-hab, if I may be so informal, you are well known as the last voice of the Enlightenment, the only philosopher left who is willing to spar with postmodern critics. Just as the PoMos love to poopoo John Dewey, it seems that everybody smokes effeminate cigarettes, wears tight jeans, and dumps on Real Madrid because they are successful, popular, and arguably profitable. At least according to Cristiano Ronaldo. Are they just a bunch of designer v neck sweater Foucault acolytes that are also sore losers?

A: Well, my first and foremost criticism of postmodernity is that their scholars’ works of literature and art are equivocal as to the seriousness of their enterprise – we must ask, do they take their philosophy serious, or is it simply a wink & nod attempt to deconstruct with no desire to reconstruct? While Barcelona has long espoused a theory of “possession soccer”, they recently have started to play a traditional run-and-cross winger in Cristian Tello. Also, two years ago, they signed Zlatan Ibrahimovic, a target forward. This year, they lost and many ascribe the failure to the lack of a “direct Plan B.” Thus, is their attempt to deconstruct the run-and-kick approach a genuine endeavor, or will they try to sign Fernando Llorente in the off-season?  I do not describe them as sore losers, but rather believe they are in the midst of an existential metaphysical identity crisis.

Q: Haber-master of the universe, one of your most famous historical debates revolved around revisionist German historians. To make a long story short, some academics tried to recast the Nazis as an isolated and elitist element, detached from the German public and thus, in your opinion, those historians tried to shift the moral blame from the public to an amorphous fringe. In terms of guilt-shifting and Madrid, should anybody be blamed for the loss to Bayern in the Champions League semi-finals? The defense? Mourinho? Pepe? Can Madrid even dream of winning that trophy if they can’t keep a clean sheet at home? In sum, would a Modernist moral scholar impose an imperative on Real Madrid to sign a real center back?

A: Society always seeks to narrow the scope and range of guilty individuals in past atrocities. The familiar “I was only following orders” helps the accomplices sleep at night. However, society must accept responsibility in various layers and at all layers. For example, Pepe stamped on Messi’s hand. However, Mourinho played Pepe. And Perez hired Mourinho. And Real Madrid’s socios voted to elect Perez. In that sense, every Madrid socio was guilty of stamping on Messi’s hand. They should all apologize. Immediately. And stop trying to just blame Pepe.

Q: Now Habercrombie & Fitch, you and Jacques Derrida engaged in a series of heated debates in which you questioned whether he had reduced philosophy to little more than literature and logic. You boldly asked whether Derrida’s thoughts could even provide a foundation for social critique, or if it was just a temporal philosophy of origins with the lasting power of a mayfly. In La Liga last season, Pep Guardiola called Jose Mourinho his puto amo (f’ing master). Jose Mourinho also wetwillied the assistant coach for Barcelona during a SuperCup brawl. What causes grown men, either philosophers or football managers, to act like petty children?

A: One of the most fundamental questions in our life is morality. We must always ask – is something immoral or moral? For me, the relativists such as Derrida manipulate reason to tear down societal structures, but leave us with no house, no roof, no basement, just a crater of uncertainty. Hence, for me, reason is both context-dependent and must be evaluated alongside history. Only by looking at the validity of everyday communication and presuppositions can we both analyze, criticize, and still have a framework from which to make moral conclusions. Jose and Pep had a serious breakdown in communication, and indirectly mocking one another via press conferences is probably not the healthiest way to form a bond.

Q: Habermastercard, you must either have a bulletproof vest or an iron cast of confidence. By that, I mean you take slug after slug after slug in the academic world. Foucault criticized your theory as utopian, Cohen criticized it as not including the lens of oppressed minorities, and Kompridis says its too procedural. Do you ever get tired of being attacked? Are you exhausted? Do you think Mou feels the same way with Marca and Jorge Valdano spitting bs his way once a day? If Foucault was still alive, would you feel the urge to wet-willy him out of anger? Should you?

A: It is standard for postmodernists to claim that any theory resting on the enlightenment is utopian – they’re a bunch of cynical downers, buzzkills, and rarely get invited to any of the good post-academic conference parties or happy hours. Cohen and Kompridis just don’t get my theory – minorities are definitely one of the specific contexts of reason. However, something universal can and does unite the oppression of say, females by males, and the oppression of say, blacks by white. The relativists, however, can’t even get close to this question because the very foundation of “oppression” is deconstructed. So yes, it gets tiring and I’m sure Mou is exhausted. However, if he reads Marca and actually cares then it’s his own fault. Most of their articles would not pass peer-review academic journal muster.

Q: We appreciate your time, and now we’ll cut to the chase: nobody likes Richard Rorty, he’s just this little wiener that runs around, starts debates, and then cites you when things heat up. What happens when you’re not around? Who will put him in timeout? On a related note, we’re also worried about succession at Madrid. If Mou goes, who could replace him? Is there another Special One somewhere? If not, then can we ethically clone Jose? What if we promise to really really carefully and morally handle the situation?

A: Postmodernists often attempt to paint technological change as novel and the impetus for a rejection of modernity and its notion of categorical morality. However, technology has always changed. Since Frankenstein and before, we have grappled with the notions of science, life, and values. I am flattered by Mr. Rorty’s citations to my works, even if he sometimes twists my theories in unexpected ways. I’d really advise against cloning Jose just for one simple reason: both the real life Jose and the clone would probably become restless and stop at nothing to try and kill one another. And this would distract them from coaching.

Q: Lastly, and perhaps a little off topic, if your last name was not Habermas, but rather Kopf, do you think children would have mocked you incessantly during middle school and well into high school for the name Jurgen Kopf? What if your name had been Jurgen Kopf N. Klosit?

A: …….

Song Credit: “The Conductor” by The Faint

Image Credit: IMGUR (via Reddit)

Last Saturday at the Nou Camp, Real Madrid were the sharks.

Before last season’s Champions League final, Brian Phillips predicted a coming cule decline. Why? Well, practically, several key players have approached the expiration date for maximum performances: Puyol and Xavi grow younger not. Both are world class, but tires lose tread. Lately, misfortune unrelated to sport has struck Eric Abidal (may he enjoy a speedy recovery). David Villa seriously injured himself, even though he wasn’t exactly lighting up the nets beforehand. In part, the injury trade winds stopped blowing in their favor.

And Cristian Tello and Thiago are Cristian Tello and Thiago. Good players, just not world beaters. The myth of the La Masia academy – that it consistently produces Hogwarts’ magicians – should finally be put to bed. For the last few years, Barcelona has rode almost the exact same starting eleven. Their bench rarely needed to provide a spark or insurance. Rather, Iniesta and Xavi would dart around the midfield while Messi provided the cutting edge. The back line of Alves, Pique, Puyol, and Abidal shielded Victor Valdes from actual work. The formula reached a monotonous consistency, depending on your affiliation. Yet reality has now undone the equation.

In terms of narrative, every team that succeeds over a spell of time goes through four phases: ascent as underdog; champion; champion with aura; champion without aura. Rijkaard and Ronaldinho lifted Barcelona from the ashes, while Messi and Pep solidified their view at the top. Still, the gap narrowed. For the last several months, Real Madrid has battled to kill Barcelona’s aura. The Supercopa, the Copa del Rey, last year’s Champions League – at a certain stage, Mou stopped game-planning for Barcelona and fielded his offensive 4-4-2 (with Ozil dropping back) in key games. The merengues huffed and puffed, but Barcelona managed to escape each time.

Until last Saturday. The aura is dead. Long live the aura. For their part, Real Madrid looked fit and organized over 90 minutes. Unlike the Chelsea game, Barcelona did not turn their possession into scoring chances. Madrid did not simply ride their luck – they snuffed out danger in the center of the park. Yes, Xavi could have scored an early equaliser, but Barcelona saw few clear cut chances after that. And this also was not a studs-up foul fest, apart from Dani Alves’ love affair with Cristiano Ronaldo’s calves. No Copa del Rey final redux. The most important aspect was the unseen. Leo Messi‘s false 9 role rendered him invisible – he might as well have been playing for the albiceleste.

Yet I still feel dirty and uneasy. I’m not incredulous, just uncomfortable. Real Madrid’s win, a Nou Campazo, was merited. We have killed the aura, even though the body remains. A Jason-esque short-term resurrection remains possible. Barca are favorites to beat Chelsea. I wouldn’t doubt a King’s Cup and Champions League double. We could even trip up in La Liga to make matters close. However, the next wave of clasicos will lose their luster. Neither team sits atop a throne.

Elliott’s soccer eBook, An Illustrated Guide to Soccer & Spanish, is available on Amazon for under $5. Check out a free preview here.

Brian Phillips has the scoop on all the leading Chelsea manager candidates and the betmakers’ odds for each one. NOT. Seriously, doesn’t everybody realize that the Blues manager is an on call/seasonal position, like farm work picking citrus in a field? Of course, if you pick enough oranges, you have a chance of being retained full time. Not so with Chelsea. And people are sick of the carousel. (Grantland)

Clint Dempsey has had a monster season for Fulham and Clint-sanity has replaced Lin-sanity this side of the pond. Luigi has penned an amazingly cool pic of Deuce that you must see. Seriously. (Squareroot of Cruyff)

In case you missed yesterday’s game, Cristiano Ronaldo bagged a hat trick and Real Madrid beat Atletico 4-1. The best goal of the bunch was his wicked free kick that managed to bend, dip, and then dip and bend. The shot flatflooted Atletico’s goalie, who could only hear the ting of his left hand post as the ball entered the net. Check out a GIF. (101 Great Goals)

Racism and ethnic tensions have almost always simmered below the surface of soccer. However, the popular “death to Arabs” chant in Israeli soccer games is both disturbing and needs to be stamped out. For the curious, I recommend this read on the history of this popular yet poisonous anthem. (Turbulent World of Middle Eastern Soccer)

Messi has scored a ton of goals, and his individual brilliance has left us all with shaking pens and mouths agape. Can we even hope to describe his continual brilliance? Luckily, at around age 27 he will start to descend and appear a homo sapien. Until then, enjoy this glossary of Messi terms. (Catch 22 Soccer)

Often, instead of addressing the team we face, we suffer thinking of the team behind us. Barcelona. Four points. Not ten points. Four. Six less. Less than half. Oh, and Atletico de Madrid.

If I learned anything from the FutSail Online University fiasco, it’s how to write SEO headlines. Morally, though, I also learned that many other fine big media outlets spew our churnalist previews better than these parts. Sadly, they spin the same tune. Blah blah. Real Madrid must win. Blah blah. Feel pressure from Barcelona. Blah blah. Strikers dip in form. Blah blah. No truly dominant midfield presence. Blah blah. Alexis Sanchez is God. Blah blah. Oh, and Atletico de Madrid.

I dare not follow these enormous footsteps of giants. The shadow would swallow me whole. Thus, I will say that Atletico de Madrid are having a tidy season after selling star strikers Diego Forlan and Kun Aguero. Falcao, when on form, is dazzling. The Brazilian Diego, when on form (which is almost never) also offers a few tricks. The Vicente Calderon stadium is less than hospitable, but is slightly better than that crappy Madrid hostel you stayed a few summers ago that smelled of unshaven European female armpits.

That is to say, this game is a must win for Madrid because they feel the pressure from Barcelona because they used to have a ten point lead but now only have a four point lead and will play Barcelona at the Nou Camp in a few weeks.

Ignore the fact that, for the first time in a few years, Madrid has a deep roster at each position. Ignore that, for the first time in ages, Madrid leads La Liga and has done so for months. Ignore that Madrid’s last three matches at the Nou Camp, last season’s UCL second leg, the SuperCopa second leg, and the Copa del Rey second leg, Madrid played much better than at the Bernabeu. Ignore that Madrid’s defense has done pretty well against quality teams like Malaga and Valencia.

Buy the dread hype. Listen to Chicken Little. Set your hair on fire. Sell the family heirlooms. Build a steel bunker and fill it with enough Cap’n Crunch to feed all the animals on Noah’s ark for a week. Or two. The most important thing you can and should do ahead of the Madrid-Atletico game is think about one thing and one thing only: Barcelona.

Elliott’s ebook, An Illustrated Guide to Soccer & Spanish, is available on the Kindle for under $5.00. Check out a free preview here.

Thus, I present some super cool ways to get your paws on my eBook while only feeling slightly evil, not totally evil.

First, and for the people who hate to download e-reader for pc crap.

I caved and you can get a PDF version at Smashwords. Check it out here.

Another good option is Goodreads, a great community of readers. Think Facebook but slightly more literary and/or vampirey. You can purchase the book at Goodreads and read it on their lovely ereader, no download necessary. All you have to do is join. Check it out here.

Second, and for you folks that are willing to download a free e-reader program or plugin.

Step One: You have four good PC e-reader options. For your PC, I recommend either Adobe Digital Editions or Calibre. For a simple browser plugin, EPUBReader for Firefox is amazing. Check it out here. For Chrome, check out MagicScroll here.

Now, once you have this PC ereader or plugin, Step Two: you can buy and download an ePub version of my book. You have quite a few indie options.

First, if you want to support an awesome and proudly independently ran website, I suggest grabbing the book at the Pitch Invasion store here. This version is bundled and you get both Mobi (for Kindle) and ePub versions.

Second, you can support Smashwords, a pretty cool collection of indie eBook publishers. They also have a bundle option, so you get the eBook in several formats, including: HTML (for limited browser reading), PDF, Mobi, and ePub. Check it out here.

Third, Google Books now allows you to buy my eBook in ePub format while supporting brick and mortar indie bookstores. Here are a few of the participating places: Powell’s in Portland, Oregon is supposed to be amazing. Support them by buying my book here. In my hometown of KC, Rainy Day Books is an agoraphobic’s not too messy wet dream. Support them by purchasing my book here. Lastly, I burned away my twenties in Washington, D.C., and was known to frequent a happy hour or two at Busboys & Poets. Support them by buying my book here.

So there you have it: the greatest eBook about Soccer & Spanish ever written at your fingertips and with none of the guilt. Well, at least not all of it.

As a starting point, please have a copy of Zizek’s “The Sublime Object of  Ideology” handy. Why? Well, only Hegel and psychoanalysis can shed light on the deeper meanings and reaches of this “advertisement.” This film, ahem, actually reveals a fissure point that divides the idealistic concept of the “All” from the materialist notion of the “apparent All.” We derive pleasure from seeing it, but ultimately it revolves around the Freudian death drive’s attempt to grasp the totality of reality. Here’s how.

We know that Iker and Andres are not really fans of the pedestrians. The pedestrians also know. But Iker and Andres know that we know and also that the pedestrians know. Thus, we also derive pleasure from our participation in the “ironic act” – an obvious sketch that everybody gets as a joke. We the discerning consumer, the skeptical pedestrian, and the good-natured but contractually obligated celebrity athletes all play our predetermined roles.

The film is not the “apparent ALL” in the sense that visual medians like documentaries attempt to expose an unfiltered reality. Rather, the movie works as an unfiltered expose of filtered reality. We laugh at the obviously preposterous premise. However, a purist would argue that, like the “Real World”, the “Bachelor,” and other such programs, this film is a half-assed deconstruction of genre, is perhaps even more deceptive, and therefore the most poisonous pill of all to swallow.

To fully understand the criticism, it’s important to attempt to formulate a baseline of “reality” and “nonreality.” After decades of television, cookie cutter suburban homes with wives, husbands, kids, schools, scripted dialogue, picket fences, laugh tracks and nosy neighbors have become the standard and easy-to-see “not ALL” non-reality. We smell a situational comedy a mile away. The four young single friends live in large metropolis and regularly meet in cafes to discuss amorous escapades, workplace grievances, and career moves. Goofy slapstick character says goofy something and performs amusing & awkward physical act, to our delight. We don’t want to feel left out, so we follow the studio audience and laugh track’s lead. Our face forms a smile, but we don’t smile. That is obviously the “not ALL” non-reality.

But where is the “ALL” reality?

We thus encounter Zizek’s favorite topic: the gap between the transcendental “ALL” and the materialist “not ALL”. In laymen terms, the gap between knowledge as perfect & explanatory versus what we as an individual can see, taste, touch, and smell. Television has always tip-toed in this nether region. In terms of the “not ALL” material world, we plug in the glowing box and press an on switch on a remote control. We see human beings, professional actors, that speak sentences and make gestures to the approval of first, a director barely off screen, and second us, the audience sitting in front of the screen. But where does and can the transcendental “ALL” fit in?

The Casillas-Iniesta video superficially attempts to push us, the athletes, and the pedestrians away from the scripted TV world and closer to reality with an ironic premise. However, you have to ask – are we really totally inside this inside joke? For example, were those really pedestrians? Or paid extras? Or actors? Also, how many pedestrian clips were filmed? How many were cut out? Obviously, not every take made the final video. To flesh out the point, was it mere coincidence that attractive but moody people always got selected (“casted”) to be in MTV’s the Real World? Directors’ hands have altered this reality. It’s as filtered as instant coffee. The Casillas-Iniesta video is thus the most dangerous kind of “not ALL” reality – the kind that sells itself as “ALL” reality. Or at least an approximation.

Therefore, this film succeeds at tugging our emotions because of the Freudian death drive. As Zizek notes, we grasp, claw, and strive to push our sense closer and closer to reality. We long to jump over the grand canyon from the “not ALL” side to the “ALL” side. We have watched Iniesta and Casillas play some scintillating soccer and become Champions of Europe and the World. We’ve seen shitty TV. This film lowers our defenses by mocking TV premises and allegedly reversing the role of fan/athlete. What could have been cooler than to have walked alongside the camera man, filming those guys on the street? Or, even better, getting asked by Casillas for an autograph! Cue swoon-track.

This film amuses, but is no transcendental formation. It’s just the latest flavor in union-scriptwriter-busting neo liberal reality TV 2.0 meets viral internet marketing 101.  Don’t let Casillas’ charms fool you, even if he is a handsome son of a gun.

Video: Dirty Tackle

I decided to fill that hole in the best way possible.

Of course, I wasn’t going to just recycle the same old WAG-of-the-week filth. Rather, I took a step back in history. I asked myself – where I can find a vein of that raging NSFW pre-suffrage wanker underground river? The 19th century. That’s where. And the early 20th century. That’s right. This is some pre-WAG flapper hotness. So, if you’re at work, I suggest you continue reading this post on your phone. I’d hate for you to be fired for downloading some of the hottest and steamiest 20th century Footy Flapper Pics on these here interwebs. You have been warned.

Now, let the tour begin.

Is it just me, or where things so much simpler in the 19th century and pre-World War I? Archdukes traveled without fear of assassination. The telegraph had not yet been invented to ruin Christmas vacations by making work from home possible. Electricity and running water were the next big thing, but hadn’t gone all mainstream and corporate and shit. Horseless carriages were not called horseless carriages. They didn’t even exist. They were just carriages. And they were pulled by horses.

Things may have been simpler, but they were just as sexy, if not more so. Soccer had recently made the jump from amateurism to professionalism in the UK. In the 1890′s, Notts County FC reached various FA Cup finals and won it all in 1894 thanks to a hat trick by Jimmy Logan in the final. However, I want to draw your attention to his lovely acquaintance, Lisa Logan, a rapacious social climber that bathed in the spotlight like an alligator under the midday sun.

If you stare close enough and long enough, you can see a sliver of ankle that would make an 18th century nun blush. Sinful! Her hair, a tasteful pre-Princess Leah Princess Leah bun, only serves to distract from the fact that her skin-colored under-dress dress is quite form-fitting (as I’m sure you already noticed). Now, I’m not one to make up historical individuals or fake celebrity scuttlebutt, but rumor has it that Lisa Logan is the great great aunt’s nephew’s neighbor of none other than Lindsay Lohan! Just goes to show you that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. It falls very far. Yet remains similar. Somehow.

On a fashionista note, the historians consulted in researching this piece were unable to reach agreement as to whether the item on her left forearm is an a) timepiece, b) wristband, or c) scrufflenurg. For those not in the know, a scrufflenurg is like a scrunchy, but was actually used at the time to fend off yellow fever, the plague, smallpox, and scurvy. In that order. Those silly & superstitious fashionistas of old, no? The safe money is on timepiece.

Historical debates aside, we now jump forward a few decades to the land of Charlie Parker, jazz, and the Football Flapper proper. World War I came and went. But that was the last Great War, so everybody just wanted to forget about it, drink contraband (in the US) alcohol, and pay minorities to play improvisational music in back alley speakeasies. I hope your eyeballs are nice and warmed up, and you don’t plan on blinking for the next twenty minutes, because the pics are about to go from incredibly hot and steamy to really truly incredibly hot and steamy.

We again turn out attention to Notts County, who were sadly relegated from the top flight of English Football in 1926. However, don’t shed too many tears – they will cloud your view of Margaret Iremonger, the apple of the eye of legendary goalie Albert Iremonger. Before you scream “hussy”, recall that her and Al had a lovely son, Al Jr., who served for the Royal Air Force and made the ultimate sacrifice for his country at age 23. So don’t get too dirty nor too judgmental while gawking at this Footy Flapper mamacita.

If you stare long enough and hard enough, you can see a freckle just above her right knee. Skirtdancer! A true feast for the eyes, no? The slanted cap tactfully covers her carefully plucked right eyebrow, while exposing the raw, un-plucked left eyebrow. Highkicker! Mrs. Iremonger was truly the Medusa of her era and, rumor has it, while walking through the town square, would leave many a young man stuck standing to the ground and staring in awe like a statue of stone. Go ahead, take another gander, I’ll wait, I understand. Breathtaking.

Yet Mrs. Iremonger was not the only hen of the early 1900′s making the cocks crow before sunrise. Now, I just want to issue a very very stern warning: the following picture is immediately post-women-suffrage in the US. The emancipation, the experience of freedom, the liberty of it all, the writing of candidates’ names with quill pens on parched paper and then depositing said paper into leather boxes – you can see it in every inch of the following flapper. And it is hypnotizing.

Bethlehem Football Club, later known as Bethlehem Steel Football Club (BSFC), was the cream of the US soccer playing crop in the early 1900′s. They did lots of very important historical stuff that probably distracted you from the hot wife of one of their star players. I don’t want to dwell too much on the history crap, but BSFC was owned by Charles Schwab, he had money, he turned the team pro, they won titles, and….one of their key players was Harry Ratican. Yes, that’s right, the husband of none other than famed speakeasy singer Mary Jo Ratican!

Soak it in. Eyes are made to look, aren’t they? Still, like a solar eclipse, don’t stare directly at the mink scarf or you may go blind. And remember, the next time some other site spits a misogynist WAG picfest your way, the ladies of today have nothing on the Footy Flappers of yesteryear.

Get the Best of Futfanatico 2011 for only $1 for your Kindle here.

In that respect, I present the first ever Futfanatico Caption Contest with the grand prize being the honorary title of “First Ever Champion of a Futfanatico Caption Contest.” Put that on your Linkedin Profile and smoke it! But seriously, here are the rules:

You have seen the above picture. Now, write something funny. More specifically…

1) Be Good-Natured.

I don’t want to ruin your view of life, but I heard that this one time a fan got angry about something about his or her soccer team. In reality, said fan hates his or her life and projects that aggression onto unsuspecting and well paid professional athletes. Pity them. This blog is a well guarded preserve of the passive aggressive, so an unacceptable entry would be “Xavi and Iniesta suck and shit.”

Here are some acceptable entries: “Win at the Bernabeu & Three Thumbs Up!” Or perhaps: “We won, & now we dance….the Macarena.” Also: “Xavi Silences Madrid Crowd; Goes for Swing in Banana Hammock.” You can cut a little closer, perhaps with: “We Lost the League…But Won the Bernabeauty Contest Hands Down.” And lastly: “Greg Lougannis Eat Your Heart Out.”

2) Don’t be Heterosexist.

The key aspect of this picture is a short, hairy dude in a speedo giving the thumbs up. Xavi might as well be on Semana Santa in Monaco. I don’t want any gay jokes and I will be moderating the comments to that effect. All sports involve some degree of same sex bonding, but displays of affection should not be construed or misconstrued to prefer one sexual orientation over another.

3) The Contest Closes At An Undefined Point In Futureland.

My real job has deadlines. I hate them. Thus, this pic caption contest will continue ad infinitum. I prefer that you add your entry to the comments of this post. However, you can send them to me at futfanatico (at) gmail (dot) com. You can also tweet me them, you lazy bastard you. In one weeks’ time, special guest judge Dr. Moschlavius Gumperteer will return to name the top entries and winner. And maybe even give some useful SEO tips! So put on your creative thinking cap and then be ready to dust off that black hat!

Note: this pic was spotted by the eagle eyes of Neil Sandwich. He regularly contributes to the collection of artists formerly known as Surreal Football: the FCF.