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.

Video Credit: Chris Farley, Saturday Night Live

Last time we opened up our Spanglish pocket-sized dictionary, we focused on a young hotshot United striker by the name of Javier Hernandez. I explained the crucial difference between the palomitas you eat at the movies, the palomitas that plague city parks, and the palomitas (diving headers) that the Young Mexican scores. We now focus on another United striker, slightly older.

And the curious Spanish name for his wonder-strike.

First things, first. A video of the wonder goal. In a tense 1-1 game between United and City, Wayne Rooney reacts to a blooping Nani cross in the least predictable fashion – an astounding and jaw dropping bicycle kick. (Via our friend Nacho Briso at the excellent Chile based mepongodepie)

In English, Rooney’s goal could be called either a “bicycle kick” or an “overhead kick.” The first term, bicycle kick, comes from the kicking motion, akin to pedaling a bike. The second term, overhead kick, comes from the location of the striker’s leg as he makes contact with the ball. Spanish also offers several terms for this trick.

One of these terms is bicicleta, a literal translation. However, more recently “bicicleta” has come to be associated more with step-overs. The other term, “chalaca,” is used by Peruvians.  Nevertheless, it sounds like “boom-shaka-laka,” and thus would fit in very well with an NBA Jam-soccer edition. Uruguayans call it a “trizaga,” because it should be a three point shot. However, the term we shall focus on is “la chilena.”

The Real Academia Espanola defines “chilena” as a female citizen of the country of Chile. However, Wikipedia, that ever reliable fountain of knowledge, defines “chilena” as a bicycle kick. Urban Dictionary also confirms this definition. Thus, it is therefore eternally coded in open source stone. The RAE must bow before peer-edited websites. Right?

But academic squabbles aside, why did “bicycle kick” come to be named “chilena”? The obvious explanation – a Chilean performed it. Kinda. The etymology is much more complex. Actually, the first individual to perform a bicycle kick was a Spaniard that naturalized as a Chilean, Ramon Unzaga Asla. He first performed the feat in 1914 in the Chilean port city of Talcahuano, and it was called “chorera” in homage to the city’s nickname.

The name “chilena” did not appear until Mr. Asla played in Buenos Aires, with the Chilean national team, in 1916. The Argentine press referred to the complex maneuver as a simple “chilena.” In 1920, David Arrelano, founder and player for Chilean club Colo Colo, observed Asla’s move and later took it with him to the motherland, popularizing the trick and term “chilena” in Spain in 1927. With Argentina and Spain, the two barometers of fashionable Soccer Spanish, in agreement and accepting that term, “chilena” came to predominate over “chalaca” and “trizaga.”

Thus, “chilena” is named after a Spaniard that moved to Chile, invented a soccer trick, got noticed and nicknamed by the Argentine press, and then got exported to Spain by a native-born Chilean. Deliciously confusing and convoluted? Absolutely. However, despite the delightful roundabout beginnings, the term has somewhat stagnated recently.

By that, I mean, two distinct types of chilenas have evolved. The first and most impressive, as executed by Rooney, involves a first time volley on a teammate’s cross. The timing and skill is exceptional. Hugo Sanchez performed a similar chilena sobresaliente a few decades ago.

Since then, several Brazilians have pulled off a few media chilenas. By that, I mean they chest a pass with back to goal and then execute the volley kick. This version still requires exceptional skill, but also relies on slack defending around the opposition’s box. While I can appreciate Rivaldo’s goal, it belongs to the second category.

And that has nothing to do with me being a Real Madrid fan.

Video Credit: Sky Sports

Factual Research: Wikipedia

Be sure to check out BetUS for soccer predictions, recent news, and plenty more.

Well, for those of you not in the know, Hernandez actually descends from a long line of Mexican footballing aristocracy. His grandfather and dad both played for Chivas, a Mexican league club based in Guadalajara and usually one of the top teams. Usually. His dad, also named Javier Hernandez, was nicknamed “Chicharo” during his playing days because of his green eyes, a rarity down South.

So what more can we learn from this little pea?

Well, I hate to contradict your high school Spanish teacher that spent a summer in Guatemala a decade ago, but the term “palomita” does not mean little dove. Well, it does. But it also has another meaning. Popcorn. Yes. The next time you go out to see a midnight 3-d Avatar screening, and drown your popcorn in coconut butter, you are actually drowning little doves. And then eating them. Of course, the civilized folk in South American refer to popcorn as “pochoclo.” How kind of them to spare the little doves.

But palomita also means “diving header.” The term is gol de palomita.  And in a short span of time, Javier Hernandez has scored several of them for United. Observe.

The outstretched arms, the inclined head, Chicharito soars two feet off the ground like a graceful dove. And no, I don’t think he’s available for weddings. Although he is quite skilled. People ask how Sir Alex knew he would make it in the EPL. The English-pass-muster-hypothetical is simple – when given a pass two feet off the ground and ripe for a sidefooted volley, would Hernandez instead dive to use his head?

Chicharito even finds a way to use his head to score goals when the pass stays ground-bound. Observe.

As a lover of Inzaghi, who has scored more professional goals with his pelvis than 90% of strikers do with their feet, I can appreciate some deflectionary. But, in Spanish, when intentions do not match reactions but get results, the proper term is “culo.” Yes, from your extensive studies of the Daddy Yanked lexicon, you know that culo also means heiney. But it also means lucky.

So there you have it – the next time you see Javier play for United on Telemundo, you can munch on palomitas and talk culo. Your welcome.

This treat of an impromtu lesson comes to us from the boca of one Chilavert, perhaps one of the greatest goalkeepers in the history of the sport. “Chila” was known for spectacular saves and also for scoring a few goals himself from spotkicks. He played for Paraguay, a country in South America near Argentina, Brazil, and Uruguay. He was and is their talisman. But anger problems plagued his career.

Recently, on a flight from Argentina to Paraguay, Chilavert saw an Argentina sports agent/businessman. Chilavert believed that the Argentine owed him money. Chila approached the Argentine and inquired into said funds. And the Argentine replied with some select terms that require elaborate explanation. After the jump.

As you may have guessed, the incident caught the media’s attention because it ended in blows. Chila punched the crap out of the Argentine at the Asuncion airport. And these blows got caught on camera. Did the funds at stake provoke Chila’s wrath? Not exactly.

The Argentine’s words to describe Chila were “Paraguayo muerto de hambre.” Literally, this is translated to “Paraguayan dead from hunger.” Among Mexicans, the term “muerto de hambre” can be used playfully to describe a friend that is a cheapskate. Normally, the waiter brings the bill, and your friend who is “muerto de hambre” never has enough cash for a decent tip. He will always get you later. Yeah. Right.

However, in South America, between Argentines and Paraguayans, the term is much more loaded.

The relationship between Paraguay and Argentina is akin to Mexico and the US. Lots of Paraguayans immigrate to Argentina in search of work, taking jobs as day laborers and domestic help, among other professions. Also, many Paraguayans are more noticeably descendants of the Guarani indigenous peoples, both in terms of physical appearance and the fact that several Paraguayans speak both Spanish and Guarani. Thus, there is a socioeconomic and cultural divide.

Argentines have not helped their cause. In South America, you can measure a country’s unpopularity by the number of negative jokes pertaining to that country. Right now, off the top of my head, I can think of three-four Argentine jokes. Basically, Argentines get the American rap – a select proportion is ignorant of other cultures and incredibly arrogant, and it ruins it for the rest of ‘em.

Thus, given this backdrop, Unprofessional Foul hit the nail on the head when they compared this term to a US person calling a Mexican a “wetback” or “mojado.” And it should come as no surprise that Chila’s outrage has…only endeared him more so to his countrymen.

So the Spanish lesson is simple – even if somebody is drowning in a pool or literally starving from hunger, do not call them mojado or muerto de hambre. And also, if you owe Chila money, pay up. Now.

Still, Junito’s national team selection has one distinct advantage – I am not a candidate, as I am a human being, not a nation state. Thus, I reasoned, no evil can come of this. I was wrong. The expected and the unexpected merged into a vortex so profound, so deep and convoluted, that if you wiped your pink finger on the surface’s rim, you’d be elbow-deep in abyss in the blink of an eye.

Allow me to explain.

As you may recall, Junito is a brilliant goalscorer, handsome playboy, and future champion. Thus, his success at the World Cup is a surety. However, his national team is a question mark. Junito lays claim to three different nationalities: Mexico, the US, and Nicaragua. Rather than place the burden of this huge decision on a still developing three year old, like any responsible father I polled a group of strangers on the internet so that they would decide for us. You were one of those strangers. And you voted.

I then painstakingly counted each and every ballot, even the handwritten ballots that were mailed from as far away as Guam. I also tried to get a read from Junito on his personal preferences. The other day, he alleged that he took a taxi to Mexico, obtained a magical stone, and then gifted said magical stone to his mother. Only upon further investigation did I realize that no such taxi ride took place, and Junito’s claims to the stone remain unproven. He has alleged that the stone turns into a huge giant that is larger than any dinosaur, but thus far no eye witnesses have corroborated said transformations.

Still, I read between the lines and interpreted his creative musings as an affection for his Aztec roots. BUT, he still prefers gallo pinto, the traditional Nicaragua dish, to any combination of hot cheese-hot tortilla-ground beef-jalapenos. He also dislikes hamburgers and french fries, so the US is out of the question. Although, to be honest, he does enjoy the caja feliz toys.

Could Junito play for three different national teams like Real Madrid all-time great Alfredo Di Stefano? Unlikely. I anticipate him getting capped before his older sister’s quinceanera, which means no U15 or U17 shenanigans. Nope. Junito will burst onto the scene like Michael Owen, but with the lasting power of Paolo Maldini.

While Mexico loves players that skirt the nationality lines, I have one big problem with Junito following in my chicano footsteps: the word “raza.” Nobody has every satisfactorily defined this term for me. I hear it all the time as in “hoy hay un juego en la tarde, pura raza“, and I think – if I said the term “pure race” in English and had a shaved head, I would probably be talking about a minutemen meeting or something. Shudder.

More importantly, the contours of the raza have not been sufficiently elucidated. Is my Nicaraguan wife a member of la raza? Or is la raza just a synonym for Mexican? Repeated emails to the Real Academia have not been answered.

Still, I cast but one vote in this election and let the majority speak. And speak they did. Drum roll please….The winner of the Junito’s-future-national team-election is…..

Pitchinvasion.Again. Yes. You read it correctly. Pitchinvasion? Pitchinvasion. Again. Check out the results:

I know what you’re thinking because I had the same thought – isn’t Pitchinvasion a website, not a nation state? But our analysis can’t be so shallow – in the 21st century, as technology blurs the lines between nation-states and non-state actors, isn’t it entirely possible that Tom Dunmore will rule a big chunk of the universe? After all, he has a soccer blogger trophy case to make Ryan Giggs blush.

Plus, Pitchinvasion has a scarf. And the line between a scarf and a flag is a very fine one, one that is begging to be crossed.

So, there you have it, I try to run a fair & square election in the hopes my readers can guide my toddler son’s future professional career, but Tom Dunmore’s excellent Pitchinvasion gobbles up the votes like a meth using cookie monster. At least unlike the UK, there was a clear majority. And don’t worry, no legal wrangling on my part. I know how twisted anything resembling an election or award can become when it involves the soccer blogosphere.

Junito has traded in his Huggies for calzoncillos (underpants)! The new influx of cash has led to an all important purchase – a Real Madrid jersey. However, I have come under criticism in some quarters for my treatment of Junito – am I inculcating him in some sort of blanquillo-obsessed cult?

Keep shooting, people, because the arrows fall off this iron-thick skin like a drop of water. The word “culto” means “cultured, educated,” in Spanish, so I will just pretend that instead of cult, you wanted to say culto. Yes, I am indoctrinating my son to be cultured and educated. What an astute observation!

Still, due to some financial distress, I was unable to get Junito an official Madrid jersey. Additionally, there were some cleaning concerns. The all white shirt must not be sodden, and Junito has not yet mastered the use of the silverware. Granted, the important thing is that Junito wear the shirt with pride and aplomb. But the fried cheese stains probably make the spirit of Puskas cry.

Despite a nose for goal, I have a confession to make – I still harbor hope that Junito can develop into a withdrawn striker/false nine. The shining example of grace for my money is Dennis Bergkamp of Arsenal fame. The Dutchman struck a fine balance between the amazing assist and the elegant goal.

There’s just one little stumbling block: the Ajax academy generally does not accept youths under the age of 5, but I do have their number on my cell phone. I haven’t cared call them, but it would be a shame to miss such a call because I thought it was a solicitor and didn’t answer. I could return the phone call, but I would hate to imperil Junito’s development in anyway.

And yes, I know what you’re thinking – the star of Real Madrid…at the Ajax Academy? Right now I am not impressed by the Madrid youth system. The “cantera” is appalling. Granero? Come on. Thus, Junito’s initial career path has two possible projections – either the Eredivisie, ala Ronaldo, or the Portuguese Liga, ala Ronaldo. He could dabble in the Premiership or maybe Serie A to cut his teeth, but nothing long-term. A post-35 deal in Qattar is also a distinct possibility.

Still, seeing as Junito is too young to start lifting weights, I have focused heavily on his cognitive development. Recently, he was able to recite the entire “burrito song” with no assistance. For those of you anglos, the burrito song refers to a “small donkey” who does not know the vowels. It is an excellent method to teach the kiddos the “vocales” in Spanish. Junito has excelled, as expected, but I am not sure he is ready to dive headfirst into the stormy ocean of consonants.

For now, to ensure he becomes a student of the game, I am emphasizing an exacting and rigorous approach to writing his own name in cellophane blocks. Absolutely, positively no taking a bite out the blocks. Not even a little bit. Junito, to his credit, has responded positively to my draconian, Fabio Capello, taskmaster tactics. As you can see…

Junito: English for “Mata-Barca”

Plus, inspiration came in the way of an amusing Landon Donovan commercial in which the Toffees man took a break between German and English loan spells to shoot a lottery commercial.So, to get this reconciliation started properly, I get down on my knees (me arrodillo) and began for forgiveness (pido disculpas). I swear Spanglish, those Portuguese lessons at livemocha were only short-term (de paso), I never….I never meant to hurt you! Please, please take me back.

Okay, now we move to the task at hand. Donovan did a lottery commercial for the Mexican lottery. The premise: Donovan tries to sneak himself south of the border to play the lottery! He is stopped by Mexican border patrol, a prospect as likely as Neil Armstrong walking on the Moon a second spell. Make that Neil Young. And Saturn.

But still, a pretty riske move on Donovan’s part. And I laudit him for finding international sponsors and starting his acting career pre-retirement, unlike Eric Cantona. And here’s the clip…

So here is your super scientific translation.

First line: Soy Mexicano. I am Mexican.

Donovan loses 1 point on the mocho scale for saying the “x” in Mexicano. But he gets a bonus point for saying “soy” instead of “yo soy”, a common error that while grammatically correct is a giveaway you come from anglolandia.

Second line: Es que…ganar en Mexico es mas facil. It’s that…to win in Mexico is easier.

Donovan loses 1 point for the tone, which does not descend like a native Mexican. Still, the pronunciation and the pause were spot on, so he gained 4 bonus points.

Third Line: No No No, hablo de ganagol. No No No, I talk of ganagol.

This is a draw. On the one hand, you can hear him think about saying the “h” to start of “hablar.” On the other hand, he tried so hard! Err, so “ard.

Fourth Line: Es la mas facil que ganar porque son once partidos. It is the easiest to win because there are only eleven games.

I give Donovan a bonus point for saying such a long sentence without taking a breathing break. However, I deduct points for misleading content – from a statistical perspective, the quantity of games does not alter the probability of winning. Thus, Donovan is an accomplice to the ganagol scheme, which inevitably has some link to dirty cartel money.

Should he be throw in jail and have the key placed on the collar of a menacing rottweiler? No, just a friendly but easily distracted miniature schnauzer. And it is more than a coincidence that he leaves to England when this commercial comes out…

Allegedly, the ladies posed for a scandalous soccer calendar to raise funds. Yes, Simone De Beauvoir rolls in her grave and my postmodern-liberal-radical feminist mind races in circles and circles. Is this a good thing? Do we problematize sexuality by ironically portraying the gender roles? Or is this master-servant with one whip firmly in one party’s hand? (And we assume that’s a bad thing)…

Then comes the skeptical aspect and a regional linguistic element – the concept of a town named “Naquera” to my Mexican ears elicits a laugh. Why? Well, because “naco” is the word used to describe somebody who, ahem, lacks culture. Think redneck, but without intellectual stalwarts Jeff Foxworthy and Larry the Cable Guy defending the cause. It is an even worse (and homophobic) perjorative in Nicaraguan Spanish.

And thus I began my search for the truth from the comfort of my desk but in a surreal state of disbelief and suspicion. And then things got interesting…

I begin with the most astounding revelation: Naquera is indeed a Spanish town. Granted, this is no Madrid or San Sebastian, but confirmed existence is the first step towards greatness for any entity, be it person or place.

Still, things fall apart after that. The UD Naquera website is in the 404 twilight zone. Could that be due to financial difficulties? Maybe in Spain the clubs don’t focus as much on the online stuff; I recalled it impossible to find a Jozy Altidore jersey at the Villareal website last year. But a quick search showed even they had improved the tiendita online. And the second division,-Real Madrid beating-Acorn State site was totally money.

The most credible citation in the original article, to Superdeporte, led to another dead end. A search for the term “calendario” bore no fruit. The unoffical UD Naquera website has only existed since this December. The email on the “unofficial site” also oddly makes reference to the calendar and is udnaquera (at) hotmail. I am afraid to send an email….

And then another turn out of a dead end. I am not a member of fotolog, but the pics of young children when looking for “UD Naquera” makes me think this is way too poorly put together to be an elaborate hoax. I also found some old recaps of UD Naquera games. Additionally, Spain has had a pro women’s league since 1988, although the mighty Naqueras have been absent from the primera. But maybe it’s because they never made it to the lucrative topflight, instead trading charter flights for hitchhiking via semi-trucks?

I know what you are thinking – this wreaks of an elaborate internet hoax so it must be the work of…my younger brother. But there’s just one problem – Wikipedia remains un-scarred. The only entry on the Valencia region in Wikipedia mentions Naquera once in a segment on the Moorish conquest. This is either a poorly trained copycat, my little brother is losing his edge, or maybe, just maybe, this calendar exists and the “women + suffrage = non-stop perpetual linear advancement” equation is out of serious whack.

I have decided to let Susan B. Anthony rest in peace for now, be content that a real world town exists called “Naquera,” and hope that the calendar concept is some sort of hoax or a radical brand of postmodern feminism inspired by Judith Butler but beyond my liberal comprehension. And when me and the lady rock the Camino de Santiago in a few months time, rest assured we may first head southeast to visit this mythical town where Mexican and Nicaraguan pejoratives meet the harsh practicalities of a sport in recession.

Basically, in many Latin American countries, once folks hit the age of 16 your ma or pa takes you to the civil registry and you get your national id card – kinda like a social security card in the States, but with a picture. But sometimes things don’t work out so simply…

In the beach resort town of La Plata, Argentina, there brews a fierce rivalry between Gimnasia de La Plata and Estudiantes La Plata. Plata means silver in Spanish and refers to the ocean waters. I would have used the terms “icky” or “disgusting” instead, but hey I only spent one weekend there a few millenia ago. Maybe the water cleans up come Christmas. But yeah, fierce rivalry.

And in 2006, Estudiantes beat Gimnasia 7-0 in a goleada historica. The wounds still fester. And a young chap went to get his id card, and he wore a Gimnasia jersey – the problem? Such fashion items are expressly prohibited in official government photos. Draconian? Well, let me give you an example – one of my friends in Buenos Aires had his dad kicked out of a hospital because he smuggled in a tiny Boca Jrs. jersey and insisted in placing it on a premy baby. With that cultural context, yeah, not so draconian. Still a bit dungeonian, but necessary.

Does the upstanding government official demand a bribe or insist the individual take off his jersey for the pic? No. He allows the pic to go through. only for a special surprise to appear weeks later…

Did you catch that handwritten note? The one below the pic which says “7-0.” I wonder if that is maybe the date in Argentina time or some special code. Of course, when questioned, the authorities pointed the finger at other government agencies. And, to further complicate things, his public school refused to admit him because he presented an adulterated document.

The passion, the emotion, the hinchada, don’t you wish you were living the dream in South America? Missing class by government decree, all due to a soccer jersey and an incompetent, low-level government official?