However, just like with Alan Thicke, jealousy, suspicion, and incredulity cloud the public’s image of Manager W. So, we humbly ask you, please leave him alone.

Gerard Depardieu. Scott Baio. Society gobbles and spits out our TV and sport celebrities whole. When Growing Pains first aired, nobody knew what to make of this dashing Jason Seaver. Was he really a hard-ass? Or a softy on the inside? For a so called psychologist, he used some pretty stern words with his three mischievous kids. And his alleged journalist wife really didn’t seem to travel all that much to cover major stories. Even in the pre-internet days, fictional TV show newsroom budgets were tight. Still, Dr. Seaver soon found himself thick in the heart of a prosperous TV series run – lasting a glorious seven years. Yes, the 2004 Return of the Seavers disappointed, but they at least killed the series before Ben or Mike Seaver had to ride a surfboard and jump over a shark.

Sadly, though, not everybody recalls fondly Dr. Seaver. The vitriol for Alan, though, pails to the verbal assaults launched at Manager W.

Foreign dandy? Not quite. Yes, Manager W has enjoyed his share of time on the continent. In fact, he’s hauled a few trophies from the land of land-locked and multilingual mini-countries. On the Isles, not so much. Still, far away from the UK press and the gossip hounds, Manager W placidly led teams to championships in various different countries. ‘Tis a renaissance man in every respect of the word. Yet still you don’t respect him.

Sure, Manager W coached a mid-tier team to unreached heights. Manager W acquits himself publicly quite well and never seems to ruffle his players’ feathers. However, Manager W gets alot of flak for his brief stint at troubled & past its prime big club. The weight of history. Unrealistic expectations. Uncertain ownership. Aging roster. Manager W’s only mistake was accepting the job. He didn’t see the iceberg before buying his Titanic ticket. Still, that’s not exactly a mortal sin.

Now Manager W finds himself in an odd place: where he wants to be. Near the end of his managerial prime, he must grasp at half-chances to coach major teams. Nobody pities him. Big club fans merely point to his lack of “big club” experience, whatever that means. Pep Guardiola had reserve team experience before taking over Barcelona. Should Manager W wear more dapper outfits? Probably. Should he also take a serious look at rosters before signing a deal? Maybe. However, the clock is ticking on Manager W’s legacy. He knows it. He may never get another half-chance. One fell on his plate, and he’s taking a bite. Much to your dismay.

Manager W’s greatest crime is probably his manner of speaking. At every press conference, he provokes the 2nd grade bully in all of us. Some find his spoken word endearing, like an under-oiled engine trying to start really really hard. Others, of course, prey on his words in an infantile manner. They write blog posts and Guardian comments that would make a kindergartner blush. The internet’s anonymity brings out the worst in them.

Yet Manager W tries to stay above the slings of his managerial career. And we, the Alan Thicke Historical Legacy Society, ask you to be less of a d-bag. At least for the next three months.

Want an advanced copy of Elliott’s 2nd eBook, “Real Madrid & Barcelona: the Making of a Rivalry”? There’s only 1 way to make it happen: go here.

Here are the links.

Americans rejoice: you can now order and buy Spiel magazine online via Paypal. In Issue Two, I deconstructed 80′s notions of hyper-masculinity by taking a super close (like really really close) look at US President Ronald Reagan and Mexican/Real Madrid icon Hugo “Hugol” Sanchez. It’s a fun read and big hair is mentioned. Really big hair. (Spiel Magazine)

At FBM, I spilled out some words on the limited local Pilsner options in Nicaragua. I also wax a bit on Real Esteli, the king of the Nicaraguan crop and regular Concacaf Champions League entrant. Just for the record: Tona is better than Victoria, and that pic of a dude eating nachos in the Sandino airport is not, in fact, me. However, nothing says Mexican in Nicargua like a dude chowing down nachos in the Sandino Airport. (Free Beer Movement)

Lastly, at IBWM I documented the history and recent rise of soccer in Nicaragua. From the early glory days of Diriangen FC to the national team’s 2009 Gold Cup qualification to Real Esteli’s ascent, things look great…until you look under the surface. Then, a frightening specter presents itself: a quasi-dictator one day manipulating barra bravas for violent political ends. (In Bed With Maradona)

Elliott’s eBook, An Illustrated Guide to Soccer & Spanish, is available on your iPhone, iPad, and iPhone Touch by clicking here.

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

Theories abound. Some claim that Messi relies on the midfield brilliance of Barcelona players Xavi and Iniesta. Others point to generational talent gaps in his national team. A decade ago, Argentina rode a wave of creative midfielders with Veron, Riquelme, and Aimar. Now, however, they feast on forwards like Tevez, Aguero, and Higuain. This lack of balance complicates team formations, especially since Ever Banega plays enganche about as well as he sets his parking brake. Some point to the long shadow of Diego Maradona. The pulga cannot escape the legacy of the pibe diez, they speculate.

All these theories are quaint. They are also wrong. Why? Because they are myopic. The soccer universe has constructed an elaborate lexicon and discourse to explain itself, yet this closed system chokes off alternative explanations. Messi, and Argentina, won’t win anything for the foreseeable future and it has nothing to do with soccer. Allow me to explain.

I had the pleasure of living in Argentina several years ago. I enjoyed life in Buenos Aires, and even caught a few so so games. Many Mexicans & chicanos feel a weird inferiority complex towards Argentines based on general stereotypes of soccer-skill. Many other folks from Latin America hold Argentines in low regards – they view their confidence and demeanor as borderline “brash and arrogant.” I definitely didn’t get that vibe, but I was raised in the US, so perhaps my arrogantly brash blinders clouded the view.

Regardless, at the time Argentina beamed with promise. Pekerman had recently constructed a gorgeous team that played possession soccer and lost to Germany on penalties at the latest World Cup. A young Mascherano snapped into tackles, a wiser Riquelme spread passes to and fro, and the reliable Abbondanzieri stood around like a patient father. Things could only get better, right? Right? Wrong.

Flash forward several years. I live in Managua, Nicaragua, and now have two young children. Young children watch programming geared towards young children, as you can imagine. Network TV in Managua offers very little of said programming. I cave, we get cable, and, one day, a program that would forever change the course of Latin America enters our living room.

In the novel 100 Years of Solitude, various characters from the town of Macondo wander around mirrors at key moments. Why? Because the mirrors reveal humanity’s two most prominent and polar opposite traits as a species: genuine reflection and self delusion. Mirrors can show us who we really are, but they can also fool the eye with ease. Our capacity to recall the past is only matched by the power of the present to re-write the past.

Tragedy can foster reflection and recollection, or delusion and amnesia. Thus, nobody in Latin America remembers much about the short-lived Argentine TV show “Patito Feo [Ugly Duckling].” Nobody, except for me, the only person brave and strong enough to recount the horrors. As a premise, Patito Feo revolved around a nerdy girl that didn’t fit in at high school. Practically, Patito Feo combined the worst aspect of Disney’s High School Musical, lackluster singing and dancing talent, with the worst stereotypes of Latin American telenovelas, catty girl and guy fights. It was toxic.

Yet the kids gobbled it up. In fact, Patito Feo became such a phenomenon that it toured all over Latin America, holding concerts and even dance competitions for kids. Like the plague, it spread and disregarded sacrosanct national boundaries. Once airborne, it easily circumvented routine airport screenings. What could spark such insanity? What fueled this propitious and cancerous reproduction?

Well, here’s a brief glimpse. I really am torn about showing NC-17 content on this site, but here goes. Watch this clip, if you can stomach it:

That video has received over 1.8 million views. In Chinese prisons, peasant farmer rights activists are forced to watch entire episodes and write original Patito Feo spec scripts until their brains dribble out their nose. Most commit suicide before the first commercial break. Luckily, though, the universe is a just place. The world will never forgive Argentina for unleashing this monster. Therefore, Messi & Argentina will not win, and it’s not because of players or tactics or luck, it’s due to the Maldicion del Patito Feo [Curse of the Ugly Duckling]. This pop culture curse plagues all that don the baby blue and white jersey.

And this isn’t some quaint Bambino curse where, like the Red Sox, you can just hire a sharp & young GM that will steal Billy Beane’s spreadsheets and multiply the sums by a million dollars. To break this spell, Argentina must resort to human sacrifice or instill a new dictatorship and win another shady World Cup at home with dubious 6-0 “victories.” Short of bloodshed or bribing a Peruvian goalie, don’t expect to see the pulga lifting a World Cup trophy anytime soon. The universe’s sense of righteousness simply won’t allow it.

So the next time some TV pundit speculates as to Messi’s failures with Argentina, just recall the Maldicion del Patito Feo and the from-the-gates-of-hell damned dance of las divinas. Then, go to your bathroom, wash your face with cold water, and try to remember to forget what you wish we never knew.

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

I ask a simple question. Did anybody ever truly love Fabio Capello? Yes. I did. And here’s why:

Yes, some will point to his marginally better winning percentage to defend him. Others will point to a simple fact: Capello has been fired/resigned from more jobs than most of us will ever have in our lifetimes. His skin is so thick it would make a decent soccer boot. If you seek job security, the coaching carousel is not the ride for you. Don Fabio does it with a smile on his face. However, I will miss Capello more for his personal touches than his professional qualifications. He was an eccentric. He was courageous. He was an innovator. Examples of his ingenuity and bravery abound.

First, Don Fabio had the courage to draw first blood against the liberal media conspiracy that forces ankle socks upon skanky young men the world over. For years, men of loose morals have paraded around parks, beaches, cantinas, and speak-easies, and showed off enough ankle to cover the continent of Africa five times over. Us regular Joes pulled up our dress socks, lowered our heads, and muttered to ourselves in disgust. Who am I to lift my hand and stop a hurricane? But Don Fabio, from his place of privilege, used his celebrity to support our cause. No more leg hair glare! Save it for Spring Break! Calves are baby cows, not body parts mean to be shown off every passing hour at work!

I still get goosebumps.

Second, Don Fabio displayed a knack for new age meeting structures. In Silicon Valley, the plague of lazy & unskilled brogrammers has led to daily morning meetings where folks have to give a one sentence project update & daily productivity goal. At many offices around the US, standing up while meeting is the norm, not the exception. Don Fabio implemented similar efficiency procedures. For example, at an emergency team meeting during World Cup 2010, Capello eliminated a major drag on all business meetings: the speaking of idiots. The meeting went swimmingly, John Terry said nothing, and England advanced out of the group stages. Here’s to England NT Meetings 2.0!

Third, and I don’t want to stereotype, but, ahem, many of my Italian guy friends can be quite assertive when attempting to attract the attention of a lovely lady. Whistling. Piropos. Stares. Heaven hath no fury like a Continental European man in love. Fabio knows a thing or two about the full court press, especially when it comes to players. Still, he also realizes that subtlety goes a long way – everybody loved getting “crush notes” in middle school, especially when delivered by a third party. Thus, when Fabio had his assistant Baldini call Paul Scholes, ask him to come out of retirement, and gave him only two hours to decide, it was the perfect mix of Continental aggression and subtlety. Scholes declined, but later admitted to regretting his poor decision. Wouldn’t you?

Fourth, Fabio knew fashion. The utterances on ankle socks, the cardigan sweaters, the Buddy Holly glasses – we saw the smoke before the fire. Still, nothing could have prepared us for these pictures. Confidence is comfort, and comfort is confidence. Capello always exuded a brash flavor of arrogance with a unique ability to withstand heat. He was a lion of a coach, and pretty well suited for the Three Lions. The English media tried to grill him alive, but, like a martyred Saint, he stripped down to a speedo and defiantly exclaimed without words: “Here I am. Are you not entertained? Are you not ashamed? [Coughs] Be sure to get a closeup of the shaved, hairless calves.”

He will be missed.

Photo Credit: AP

Elliott’s soccer eBook, An Illustrated Guide to Soccer & Spanish, is on sale for under $5 at Amazon for a limited time. Check it out here.

The first two sites are admittedly not sport-specific. They are still excellent. Openculture has movies, TV shows, and books with a very tempting price tag: free. Yes, it is basically an online library with none of the hassle of filling out a membership card. You check out what you want. You enjoy it. That is all. The film section is fantastic and here’s a recently unearthed TCM clip contrasting Kubrick with Spielberg. You can follow them on twitter.

Brainpickings is also pretty amazing. The curator for the site scours the web for cool and creative collaborations. It has existed for 6 years, yet remains gloriously ad-free. A recent post does a great job of summarizing a recent Robert Levine book about balancing the nature of creativity with SEO churnalist sites that steal original content without giving credit. You can follow them on twitter here.

In the soccersphere, I encourage you to open you ears and give a relatively new soccerpod The Best Soccer Show a listen. The hosts, Jason Davis and Jared DuBois, offer lively and insightful takes on the news of the day and they regularly get A list guests, like me. And John Harkes. You can follow the show on twitter.

Soon to arrive sports website The Classical has some tasty preview articles. Be sure to subscribe to their RSS feed here and follow them on twitter here. Launch is scheduled for December. Stale chips be damned!

Also, we were sad to hear about the passing of Gary Speed this past Sunday. The Telegraph had a nice tribute section for him, albeit the section was originally poorly misnamed a “liveblog.” Ian of the excellent 200% had an insightful article on the perils of depression, including our collective failure as a society to recognize its symptoms or take it seriously. In Bed with Maradona had a nice post on Mr. Speed, as did FourFourTwo.

We also have a “Best of” eBook anthology for 2011 that is available on the Kindle for only a buck. Basically, I’ve selected my ten favorite soccer writings from around the web and put them in one nice place. My altruistic, artistic, and capitalist motives are more fully explained in the brief intro. Purchase here.

When ESPN debuted their new red-own-goal icon a few weeks back, it was one of those moments. Since then it has proliferated, appearing in both the Ireland European Cup qualifying game and the Brazil-Mexico friendly. But what does this little red soccer ball say about us?

Since the Roman empire, red has always been associated with Mars, the planet and God. That is to say, red can mean love and war, peace and hate. Red represents two sides of the same passionate emotional coin. Red provokes rage in bulls but also taints the blood that flows from our body. Red is a powerful color. Red is destruction, but destruction due to our own human frailty. Soeth is they Own-Goal Icon.

Not convinced? Well, let’s take a glance at some other places where we’ve seen this ESPN Own-Goal Icon or similar images before…

Hal from 2001: A Space Odyssey
Did you find Hal from 2001 kinda creepy? Even before he killed a few of the astronauts and tried to lock out another? Why? Well, he definitely had a Microsoft Mr. Paperclip vibe about him. And you got the feeling that perfection could run into a perfect loop of a shit storm. Just as defenders fight to get a foot or head to every cross in the name of the defensive mission, Hal took any means necessary to advance his own shuttle. Yet perfection applied to an imperfect world is a recipe for self-destruction.

A brief transcript of the Ireland-Armenian game:

-Open the Armenian goal, Hal. OPEN THE GODDAMN ARMENIAN GOAL!

-I’m sorry, Robbie Keane. You got injured playing for the LA Galaxy. I’m afraid this mission is too important to….
Creepy Verizon Droid Bionic Ads
Nowadays, the young people like to trot about with super computers in their pocket. They play Angry Birds instead of paying attention to adults, but rest easy at night – the radiation will hopefully render their genders a mutilated mess by their mid-forties. Assuming the brain cancer doesn’t kill them.

What has led them to hold small beeping cancer boxes so closer to their ear? This.

Yes. I don’t get it either. This is the future, what the world will look like when our bodies have long been frozen next to Joe Dimaggio’s. The winking red eye seduces them, the promise of instant gratification too great. If David Luiz spent a bit less time texting, perhaps his vision would be clearer when trying to cut out crosses. We all see Death before he takes us; some just stare at him cross-eyed.

The Eye of Sauron

I’m not a big fan of Hobbits or three hour movies or trilogies when the second film just kinda repeats the first one. Yet, as painful as those films were, nothing quite burns the eye like watching 90 minutes of effort evaporate due to a defensive miscue. Was Sauron worse than Morgoth? Is an early own-goal worse than a late own-goal? These are the riddles that puzzle philosophers and ate away most of your youth spent sifting through used fantasy graphic novel bins and comicons.

Sauron’s eye was emblazoned on his warrior orc’s shields and helmets because his own sentry dared not utter his accursed name. Even to this day, Colombians tremble at the mere mention of the term autogol. Brutal images of US ’94 snap into mind. When Frodo saw the eye, it was a yellow slit and the pupil was a window into nothingness. Yet in soccer, the red eye of the Gamecast Icon is a window into eternal sporting damnation. Ye dare not stareth too long….

The Masque of the Red Death

In Edgar Allen Poe’s short story, the rich protect themselves as best they know how – cloistering themselves far away from the poor and hollowly paying lip service to the conventional god of the day. Yet, despite their efforts, one by one, the Red Death comes to them as a stranger and leaves them as a killer. Similarly, no matter how many times a team practices set pieces or defending crosses, the prospect of self-destruction lingers.

As you watch the game, probably from work, you flinch as you click re-fresh. You immerse yourself in the match to forget the toils of the day. Yet, deep down in your heart of hearts, you dread and fear and anticipate that little red ball appearing. Then, horror of horrors. The Gamecast play-by-play is a few minutes behind, but you already have seen the red writing on the wall. The dot of Mars sears your eyes and leaves a profound mark on all it touches.

Less they be damned….or own a smartphone.

Elliott’s soccer eBook, An Illustrated Guide to Soccer & Spanish, is available on the Amazon Kindle for only $5.99. Check out a free preview here.

On the other hand, I have written a delightful guest post at FistedAway. And the topic is truly something to celebrate – England’s heroic completion of the group stages at the Under-21 European Championships. Try not to let the salty tears of joy spill onto and ruin your new tablet computer.

At the critically acclaimed FistedAway I wrote a guestpost on England’s midfield dilemma. No, I did not regurgitate the decade-long lament of “Lampard + Gerrard = failiure.” Rather, I speculate on the alternative: what happens when the Three Lions can’t blame their failure on this midfield tandem?

Terrifying, isn’t it? Read here.

Now let’s look at what some smart people have to say. And, lastly, an idea.

Jennifer of From a Left Wing painted a picture of contrasts. On the one hand, Barcelona played an almost perfect game to defeat Manchester United. The Red Devils did not resort to hack-a-Xavi tactics, instead attempting an open game but getting ran over. In contrast to this defeated spirit of fair play, FIFA’s “internal investigation” of corruption reeks of a desperate political power play. It appears that Sepp Blatter only instituted this inquiry to run off his opponent and get his friends to clear his name. I doubt the suspensions of Warner and MBH will lead to expulsions. Pathetic. But fully expected.

The English FA recognized this election for an utter farce and is not voting in protest. MBH criticized the English FA for not voting. Then, he withdraw his candidacy after the corruption probe. Why? Well, as noted in that CNS article, the last man to challenge Sepp Blatter, IssaHayatou in 2002, at least retained his job and allegedly received a delightful $1.5 million bung to vote for Qatar recently. If MBH seriously challenged Blatter, he may lose his current perch….and the related graft. Can you blame him?

Granted, England’s abstaining from voting was more symbolic than functional. When you don’t vote in an election, you obviously lose your ability to influence it in a miniscule way. But given that MBH has withdrawn his candidacy, the no-vote was arguably even more symbolically powerful. It’s a nice little finger to Sepp Blatter and his era of briefcases full of cash.

Ian from 200 Percent detailed the “Warner allegations” and rightly points out – corruption is but a question of degree, not “if.” Ian points us rightly to ChangeFifa, a website with some good ideas for corporate government reforms. But how can we ever achieve reform with such a rotten center? There is hope. Just follow the trail of cash.

Brian from Sportingnews did some great leg work to track down and contact the corporate sponsors of FIFA. Some of them were willing to give a direct comment, but then came retractions. Still, for your records, they are ADIDAS, VISA, EMIRATES, and COCA-COLA. Since Brian’s article, Adidas and Coke have released statements expressing concern. So did the Emirates. But was that just PR? It seems so. But I also see an opening.

Here’s my idea: a consumer preference power play/boycott. In my last post on human trafficking in youth soccer, people rightly asked: what is the nuts & bolts solution? My vague response was “don’t settle for the superficial best product/cheapest price.” I’m still chewing, folks. But the FIFA dilemma has a simple response.

In Jennifer’s excellent aforementioned piece, she cites a concept called “interpassivity” made famous by Slavoj Zizek. Basically, everyday we make consumption choices with nary a thought. These choices add up big time. Corporations fight to turn us into amoral and unthinking zombies who consume. Hence, marketing. So I recommend some “inter-action.” In what form, you rightly ask?

While ChangeFifa has started a facebook and twitter to propose concrete reforms for FIFA, we also need to hit them where it hurts: sponsorships. Sponsors associate with an entity to sell products and establish good will with the public – we must flip this association on its head. And the marketplace offers plenty of lovely non-FIFA sponsor alternatives. Thus, here are a few general principles….

Instead of using VISA, prefer MASTERCARD. If you apply for a credit card or choose which one to use, choose the latter.

Instead of using COCA-COLA products, use PEPSI. If you drink carbonated beverages, opt for Pepsi.

Instead of using ADIDAS, opt for NIKE. If you are buying a new soccer ball, jersey, or cleats, then purchase Nike or Pumas.

And so on. This is basically a Fifa Sponsors Pledge.

Note: you could also simply not use credit cards, consume carbonated beverages, or buy sporting equipment.

I really don’t have the tech savvy or traffic to start a decent online petition. This is also more of a piggyback to changeFifa. Thus, if you know about online petitions and/or run a behemoth soccer site and like the idea, please spread the word. If enough people slightly tweak their consumer preferences, then these companies will take a major hit. And if there’s a Facebook page explaining why, then all the better. And if not, then at least no FIFA dollars-for-Sepp-diamonds will stain your next soccer shoe purchase.

Thus, I, for one, am going to heroically use my Discover card to buy a new pair of Nike cleats. And no more rum & cokes. Only rum & Pepsi. Viva La Revolucion!