Video: “Put the Green Cape On” by Jedward (aka “Why Joyce Left Ireland”)

Spotted by Footie and Music.

We also would like to take the time to reflect upon the oft overlooked underdog story at City. We speak, of course, about Sheikh Mansour.

Make no bones about it – before buying Manchester City, the Sheikh was an unknown quantity in the EPL and the world of soccer. His proper name is Mansour bin Zayed Al Nahyan, and his past guaranteed no success for City. Yes, he was born into the ruling family of Abu Dhabi, but he was the fifth son of Emir Zayed II and Fatima. Fifth. Not first. Not eldest. Fifth. A baby of the bunch. Last in line at the family dinner table. His huckleberry hound face left City fans skeptical – could this equestrian even do the minimum amount of pushups to pass the incredibly demanding EPL ownership “fit & proper” test?

Neutrals were even more doubtful. Few expected this Arabian stallion to be little more than a dark horse. We scoffed at his emaciated wrists, more befitting a heroin addicted ballerina. Gary Neville rightly asked: did he have the hand stamina to cut enough checks? Could his middle school girl thumbs grip the pen as he signed off on million dollar transfers? Yeah, he’d cut some serious checks while Head of I.P.I.C. and Chairman of the Emirates Investment Authority, but those for-profits ostensibly produced returns & results. Could he send check after check into a black hole? Would he have the courage to sign Sergio Aguero and Samir Nasri after signing both Emmanuel Adebayor and Roque Santa Cruz?

In sum, did City have at the helm a MANsour Sheikh or a Sheikh-boy that would sour after a year or two?

That question has been answered. We cynics must now shut up. Pundits point to the consistency of Nasri and the goalscoring reliability of Aguero. However, few forget the untested boy from the Emirates. Despite rumors of carpal tunnel syndrome and endless speculation in regards to his two (!) wives, the Sheikh has overcome physical limitations and the English tabloids to consistently cut checks that would make Roman Abramovich revise his monthly bank statement. Before our eyes, Sheikh Mansour has grown into the Kobe Bryant of EPL owners – only a stray bullet could take him down. He has earned the right to wear the smug grin of a champion.

Of course, the boo birds grasp at straws and paint a different picture. They believe Financial Fair Play will reign in the Sheikh’s all mighty power. Me? Ha. A man who is the head, CEO, President, and board member of several billion dollar businesses and million dollar charities can find a way, nay, will find a way to fudge five figures in the half-assed UEFA audit. Expect lots of gulf-tied sponsorships. I doubted the Sheikh before, and I won’t make the same mistake twice. The fifth son has finally made good, and made a lot of Eastlands fans happy.

So, congrats City. Me, like many others, lacked faith in your untested and underdog owner. We doubted he could adapt to the Isles’ unique rough-and-tumble league of owners, but Mr. Mansour laughs last. And he may laugh a long time, barring no wrist injury or dislocated fingers.

Elliott is kickstartering for his 2nd eBook- “Real Madrid & Barcelona: the Making of a Rivalry.” Snag an advanced copy and help him raise $1,000 by June 6 by clicking here

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.

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”

And you? Well, North American ostrich, I have bad news. You belong to a very confused, defensive, and at times reprehensible nativist community. Allow me to explain why myself and European soccer are better than you and MLS. The evidence will astound you.

Most European soccer snobs never give MLS a chance. I acknowledge this. Those folks are either total fools or have incredibly good supernatural instincts. However, I have given MLS more than a hundred chances to win over my heart. I have gone to games. I have followed teams. I have followed entire seasons. However, every time MLS starts to find a place in my heart, it trips over its own two feet. Each time MLS approaches respectability, a hideous adolescent error undoes all the prior smoothness.

For example, about a year ago, I took my son to see a Sporting KC game at the new Livestrong Park. Without a doubt, the accommodations were quite posh. However, about ten minutes into the game, a serious snafu happened. I called over the roaming vendor and asked for a simple food item that is a staple in all world class European venues: a banana. To my shock, he said: “Sorry sir, we don’t sell bananas.” I was flabbergasted. Pretzels. Peanuts. Popcorn. Hotdogs. Hamburgers. They were all for sale. But no bananas.

“What are we supposed to throw at the minority players when they touch the ball,” I inquired. He offered no response. Red-faced, I insisted on speaking with his manager. I tried to give Sporting KC the benefit of the doubt: perhaps a supplier had played hardball on banana prices in the offseason. Maybe they had freezer problems and the recent batch went bad. None. Of. The. Above. The manager said Sporting KC never offered bananas, but he would take our suggestion into account. Tsk tsk.

I’m still shocked that they simply do not sell bananas at Sporting KC games. However, Sporting KC is not alone. I did some digging, and I’ve heard they don’t sell any bananas at any MLS games. Not even the stray plantain or two. Nor much fruit for that matter. No wonder childhood obesity ravages North America. This would never happen in Europe, were ultras basically place a banana in your hand and guide you arm as you throw it at a player. So much for “credibility.”

Slightly changing topics to atrocities of the beverage kind, I did like the variety of beers being sold at the Livestrong Park. However, the wine offered was appalling both in terms of quantity and quality. Based on a sniff test, the house wine was a Merlot of the cheap Australian variety (not even California!). I dared not take a sip, and the vendor couldn’t even tell me the year of the Cabernet Sauvignon. Sacre bleu! In the apparel store, they did offer a nice range of scarves, but had no size small berets. Can you believe it? As if all fans of soccer had Neanderthal-sized North American skulls. Uff. The fabric also felt of cheap acrylic fiber, not crocheted cotton (as used in berets sold at most upper tier European grounds).

However, none of these sins stack up to the worst stadium experience yet. The restrooms. At halftime, my young son had to go to the bathroom. However, he had the urge for number two, so naturally we looked for a properly equipped restroom. We walked the entire length of the stadium, but did not find a single bathroom…with a properly enclosed bidet. Not one.Granted, I understand that bidets are a bit expensive. However, surely one or two wouldn’t break the bank. Thus, my little boy had to resort to cleaning himself with paper like an orphan. Shameful.

To make matters worse, we soon thereafter did find a most unusual bidet. It was elevated much too high, even for an adult! It also shot out cold water with no handle to adjust the temperature! And, the worst part, it was very much in the public. Still, I tried to stay positive. My little boy dropped his strousers, I lifted him up with one arm and turned on the bidet with the other, and….the police arrived. Stadium security tried to tell me that the bidet was actually a fountain! A fountain? Where’s the statute of Adonis or at least Ananke? This a Dikembe Mutombo vanity bidet that needs a layer of paint, I protested. Eventually, my little boy and I returned to our seats. I promised that as soon as we got home, he could sit on the bidet as long as he wanted. Still, the little bugger squirmed in his seat uncomfortably. I can’t blame him.

So, there you have it. MLS is the total backwaters of the soccer world. It certainly has its charms, just as the Congo River offers brilliant panoramic views when guerrilla forces aren’t shooting AK-47′s at one another. I could definitely see myself watching and enjoying some sort of “MLS: Survivor” TV program, at least for a half a season. However, until they provide nutritious projectiles and resolve the outstanding issues with the beret, cabernet, and bidet, don’t expect to see me or my son at a game anytime soon. I’ll just stick to Piers Morgan most Saturday mornings, thank you very much.

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)

Thus, we’ve sifted through a few key historical and Manchester-related alleged “signs of weakness.” Some are obvious. Some, not so much. Please keep them in mind as you watch Mario Balotelli either score a winner or get red carded during the derby.

 1184 BC: The Trojan Horse & The Glorious Defeat of the Greeks!

After ten years of fighting, the Greeks had little to show for their efforts. The City of Troy remained well-fortified and well supplied. Basically, the Greeks attempted a siege but left their siege tanks at home. Definitely not a bright idea. So, the Greeks devised a plan. They pretended to retreat, but left the gift of a wooden horse to the Trojans. Inside that horse, soldiers carefully hid and hoped the ruse would work. Despite warnings from the priest Laocoon, the Trojans saw this really large wooden horse and thought, cool, bastards left town and aren’t sore losers. Smell ya later Greek geeks!

We all know what happened. The hidden Greek soldiers came out at night and and sacked Troy. Pwnage. Instead of being a conciliiatory gift or sign of weakness, the horse was a trap. The Trojans’ hubris betrayed them. Today, many people hear the word “Trojan” and think of either family planning or nasty computer viruses. Yet we should always keep in mind this false portent. Beware gifts of thy enemy.

June 18, 1815 AD – Napoleon Totally Has This One In the Bag

Napoleon did more for little dudes than the entire cast of Pit Boss combined. He forever lowered the height requirement for emperors of Western European nations, won some battles, and showed great things come in small packages. In fact, his own “package” has been the subject of considerable debate & is a highly sought private auction item. At his peak, nobody dissed Napoleon, nobody.

By the time 1815 rolled around, all the pundits picked Napoleon for some serious decisive conquest. The Anglo-Allied army? Ha. Everybody heard the name “Gebhard von Blucher” and just kinda giggled quietly to themselves. Still, the Seventh Coalition featured some typically ferocious tackling from the Duke of Wellington’s forces, and Gary Neville would probably have picked them to overpower Napoleon’s continental dandycakes. And, just like with the EPL, Neville would have disagreed with you, ended up being right, and caused some major consternation and self-doubt. Napoleon lost. But why?

Bottom line: Napoleon’s own confidence was his sign of strength and he only saw signs of weakness in his foes. Hubris clouded his judgment. He initiated the Battle of Waterloo to try and strike early before the Seventh Coalition formed, but, on game day, he waited until midday for the fields to fully dry. For the first but not last time in history, a shitty pitch and questionable match scheduling contributed to the fall of a continental power. Napoleon lost and resigned himself to being the Pep Guardiola that never was. What-er-looser!

March 21, 2012 – Vieira Totally Predicts Paul Scholes to Flop

During Christmas break, Sir Alex found himself short on midfielders: Anderson was either partying or “recuperating” in Brazil, depending on which of his drunk bodyguards you asked. Tom Cleverly was also crocked. Manchester United needed help in the center. Thus, Sir Alex convinced Paul Scholes to come out of retirement. Manchester City’s director of dumb remarks, Patrick Vieira, immediately seized on the action and declared it a “sign of weakness.” What happened next?

Since then, Scholes and Carrick have rekindled their midfield bromance and United are level with City on points. Scholesy has even scored one of his trademark “how the hell did this happen” header goals. Thus, Vieira saw the recruiting of a veteran player as a sign of weakness. However, the Frenchman failed to realize that class is eternal, especially when you never really tackled all that much as a youth. Scholes’ game centers on snap decisions and precision passing – neither of which has atrophied with time. And the ginger just may be essential in the game vs. City.

March 23, 2012 – Sir Alex Calls out City Desperation Over Tevez Return

You didn’t think SAF would let another coach or media figure get the last word, did you? Thus, mere days later, in the heat of the Premiership title race, Sir Alex pointed out that Carlos Tevez had basically blown off Mancini for half a year yet now the Italian caved & took him back. Surely, Sir Alex stated, this reeked of desperation. Eastlands fans asked: could the calmer heads in the City locker room, like Mario “veteran presence” Balotelli, cancel out Carlitos’ antics & petulance?

Thus far, Sir Alex looks wrong. In addition to increasing City’s sex appeal quotient, Tevez has combined well with Sergio Aguero and scored goals by the bucket load. In a bizarre twist, his six months of golf only marginally improved his handicap, yet left him with fresh legs for the stretch run. In the upcoming Manchester derby, Tevez is a key player/heartthrob. His smile may show weakness in the Eastlands’ players dental plan, but nobody can deny his goalscoring & dribbling exploits. He’s the poor man’s “post-car accident” George Best that can’t afford facial surgery. Tevez has returned as a spark plug, not a weak point.

From the Trojan horse to Tevez’s teeth, so called signs of weakness dot the landscape. However, beware the hubris of the speaker. If he says that “X is a sign of weakness,” then….that statement is probably itself a sign of weakness.

Get all the Futfanatico goodness on your iPhone with the FutFanApp here.

The Frank Lampard preservation society offers another glance into the complicated mind of Chelsea’s aging midfield genius. In this chapter, Frank teeters between depression and elation. He also re-brands himself as the walking man’s player, not to be confused with the thinking man’s player.

APRIL 7, 2012

It’s been less than a month since Mr. Manager Gopher left, yet the clouds have parted and the attitude at training has totally changed in Chelseaville. For example, before, the younger players would gather in a circle around that Villas-Boas turd and listen to him. Meanwhile, we the veterans would just kinda roll our eyes and make faces. Now, however, the young players gather in a circle around the veterans. JT and me will lead them in stretching and then tell them what to do. Then, Di Matteo, the “coach”, will repeat what we say verbatim. It’s a lot less confusing this way.

And our league form has improved for it. Today we beat Wigan 2:1 and now lurk super close to the top four. I didn’t play or make the bench for obvious tactical reasons: Wigan is a bottom club and not worthy of kissing the mud off my boots. I also was still exhausted from orchestrating our 4:2 demolition of Aston Villa a week earlier. I didn’t play, we won, but more interestingly, I’ve really taken to this “regista” role that Di Matteo has me playing. Basically, I walk around next to a midfielder that tackles, wins the ball, and then passes to me, and then I pass to an open teammate. I definitely miss my dashing box-to-box walks of years past, but I always welcome a new challenge, especially when it sounds foreign and exotic and Italian. I’m no native speaker, but I believe “regista” translates to the present tense of “he who stands still.”

So, yeah, no “regista” for Wigan, but that little Juan Mata scored a screamer, so all’s well. I’m even getting along well with Ka-loser!

APRIL 15, 2012

Ahh Spurs. What can I say about Spurs that is not immediately communicated by saying very slowly the word “Spurs”? We won today at Wembley and I, of course, scored a goal. Granted, Juan Mata scored a non-goal, but when you win 5:1, you can’t really go complaining about phantom goals and whatnot. It’s not like Juan Mata is Luis Garcia and that errant call decided an important Champions League semifinal. Although, it is kinda odd that Spaniards do that. Very unsporting, if you ask me, like how Barcelona just pass the ball to teammates instead of trying to dribble and score goals. Regardless, little harm, no foul.

The big news, of course, is our looming date with Barcelona. We’ve beaten them a few times before, but they look really really tough. A glance at the roster shows why: Thiago Alcantara, Victor Valdes, Cristiano Tello, Something Cuenca, the list goes on and on. It’s basically like they have a magical factory inside La Masia that produces world class talent each and every single year since the dawn of time and until the end of time. However, if La Masia is Willy Wonka’s wonderful chocolate factory, then Di Matteo has shown us a plan to break open that glass elevator (apologies for the crappy sequel reference).

Basically, our game plan is to defend with 10 and hoof the ball to Drogba. During practice sessions, we all stand around in our own box and practice booting it to Drogba. Then, Didier tries to trap the ball, falls down, and rolls around for a few minutes. Repeat: Boot. Trap. Drop. Repea:. Huff. Touch. Fall. Repeat. It’s mentally exhausting, yet also takes advantage of my unique ability to stand in pretty much the same place for 90 minutes straight. Now, I don’t want to say that I’m the greatest “standing” midfielder that England has produced in the last decade, but a glance around shows I just may be. Scholes is a quick walker and Gerrard runs (ran) well enough, but standing? Everybody imitates my posture, but few can match my erectness.

If I have to stand for 180 minutes straight without even blinking to beat Barcelona, then so be it.

NOTE ADDED APRIL 18, 2012

 I am ever so elated! We beat Barcelona 1:0 on a glorious goal by Drogba today! I was so happy that I couldn’t even wait to get home so I pulled you out in the locker room and started journaling immediately! Kalou saw me writing in you and didn’t even make a joke – I think losing that African Cup of Nations on penalties and having been a shitty human being for every prior year of his life really changed him. He’s much more mellow, and there’s even talk that we may be friends on Facebook. And no, not my “public image” account, but my real life personal Facebook account for my friends and acquaintances. 

However, David Luiz still sucks at life and even still exchanges texts with that Villas-Boas turdbag. However, Luiz-er didn’t even make the bench for the Barca game. Whew. I even helped with the goal – from my deep lying “regista” position, I picked Messi’s pocket, fed Ramires into space, and he crossed for Drogs. It was gorgeous. Plus, the best part is that I didn’t even have to do any of the running. This Di Matteo guy really knows what he’s doing. Watch out Camp Nou!

APRIL 24, 2012

It’s funny how much has changed so quickly. Last November, I was talking to my friend Michael Ballack about life in Germany. A move seemed inevitable. My agent fielded a call from Bayern or Borussia Something-ichzen. I even bought myself some lederhosen! In December, I heard a few offers from Major League Soccer of America. I thought for a moment that my time was ending. I was wrong. If I have one flaw, it is those milliseconds of insecurity that sometimes break through my titanium shield of confidence. I listened too much to the Luso-idiot. He said I was old. Now I realize that age is just a number, and a number is really just a letter that isn’t a part of the alphabet. Yes, the number would like to be a part of the alphabet, who wouldn’t? But the important thing is for that number to train hard every day and not listen to idiot letters that look down their nose and say the number is old and washed up and will never be a part of the alphabet.

In case you didn’t follow, we tied Chelsea today at the Nou Camp! Things started a bit poor – Gary got crocked, JT knee’d that little Chilean dude and got a red card (perhaps deserved), and then Barcelona scored two goals. Granted, we got a bit of luck when Messi missed a penalty, but I can understand why a weaker and inferior player could miss a penalty in such an important situation. I myself used to miss penalty kicks like that back when I was weaker and inferior. Today, though, I was my normally brilliant myself. Why, you ask, you inquisitive diary, you?

At 2:0, most teams give up. Not Lampard. I turned my walking into speed walking overdrive. Just before the half, I got a bit of the ball and saw Javier Mascherano running at me. Before I could say “didn’t you play for scousers,” I instinctively used every pound of my massive frame to hip check him to the ground, and then my Ramires radar reached red alert. I, of course, saw him making a run, served him on a platter, and that crafty little Brazilian chipped Victor Valdes! I was so shocked to see Valdes come off his line indecisively. Normally he does not do that and does not allow soft goals. Regardless, they made a mistake, and we capitalized. Ice. Cold.

In the second half, we defended bravely. I stood in our own box and used every ounce of my remaining strength to point at teammates and tell them to tackle. My voice got hoarse by the 70 minute mark! By the 80 minute mark, I had to ice down my forearms during breaks. But we held on. And Fernando Torres scored to seal the game! Once again, Victor Valdes oddly came off his line indecisively and Torres rounded him with ease. It was so odd, to see Valdes off his line. But, that’s life.

And now we have a major super big important date in May! No, not Mayday silly diary. Something even more special. Rest assured, I will be hitting the elliptical and doing one thousand curls a day to be ready to walk and point us to victory!

 Elliott’s eBook, An Illustrated Guide to Soccer & Spanish, is available via iTunes on your iPad, iPhone, and iPod touch for only $5.99 right here.

Fourth, and hopefully lastly, the highest EU court issues a decision that undercuts the copyright holders. In a landmark decision, the Court upheld the right of a UK pub owner to broadcast a game from a cheaper foreign telecast. Basically, folks in the UK now unquestionably enjoy the legal right to watch free Digisport Romanian broadcasts of games on their Sopcast Player. Cool. Granted, some fear this will eventually lead to expensive pan-European rights. However, these critics overlook key arguments in the decision that may usher in a new era of “public rights.”

The key issue from the Court’s perspective was the scope of a live soccer game copyright – the Court found that the EPL did not own the copyright to the actual action on the field, but rather only owned the crappy graphics, overplayed anthems, and ages old videos that run before, during, and after games. In sum, the Premiership owns everything you dislike about the live broadcasts of games. They do not, however, own the actual game itself. What could this mean?

Well, I’d love to see a graphics & video free live-stream of games that includes no commentary. This would be a pretty rad public viewing option. It also appears to have some legal support. Also, if the EPL does not own live broadcasts to games, then arguably they couldn’t own originally edited video clips from those live broadcasts. Thus, could we actually see recent game highlights on Youtube? I hope so, but remain skeptical.

If the RojaDirecta legal battle has taught us anything, it’s that multinational corporate monopolies will scratch one another’s backs in order to screw consumers. These big businesses have created flawed copyright policies in the US, pushed for SOPA, eviscerated the safe harbor provisions of the DMCA, and now push the US government to negotiate similarly stupid global policies with other countries. Up until this point, the tech giants have held the copyright hostage holders at bay with a stick and kept consumers somewhat in mind. However, it’s always possible that they get in bed with each other.

Or not. If the EU decision spreads and US copyright policy gets rejected by the world at large (as I pray), then we could enter a cool new era of public viewing of sport. The pay per view model would disappear. Consumers could select a viewing experience sans obnoxious commentators & cheesy graphics. Yes, American Football fans may miss Terry Bradshaw in a tie and robots exploding, but the price will be right. A lower price will lead to more eyeballs, and teams can charge more for shirt sponsors.

Revenue will always follow popularity, even if old & flawed models must change. In the short-term, expect the copyright hostage holders to fight tooth & nail. Their survival depends on it. If your golden goose was flying away, wouldn’t you hold on? In the mid-term, I’m excited by the possibilities. Assuming, of course, that no other country follows the US copyright law lead. Keep your fingers crossed.

Elliott’s soccer eBook, An Illustrated Guide to Soccer & Spanish, is available on the Nook for only $5.99. Get a copy here.