Alright folks, time for a pat on the back. We are getting into some really advanced Spanish. This is stuff that your high school Spanish teacher could only dream of understanding. You would have had to have lived in Guatemala at least four weeks to get this. So kudos to you, the reader, the learner, the student.

Today we will focus on the Spanish word for a corner kick. In the States, we say corner. In Mexico, we say “un corner.” End of lesson. Continue reading “Spanglish 105: El Corner” »

Alright class, it has been brought to my attention from a group of cantankerous students that I have not taught you the darkest of arts- referee complaints. While normally I would bite my thumb at the mere hubris of a student requesting an addendum to my carefully planned curriculum, I realize my oversight has hindered a key aspect of pro soccer enjoyment.

First things first, the referee is the “arbitro.” No, this is not some multi-million dollar arbitration between multi-national corporations. Rather, it is an arbitration of sporting disputes between multi-million dollar athletes and their multi-billion dollar corporate owners and sponsors. Continue reading “Spanglish 104: Arbitrary Arbitroooo” »

Alright folks, I have some bad news. Sortof. The Spanglish classes are just a tad too popular and the hosting company has sent me some emails. I am also weary of being “the cool professor.” Are the notes written and passed in the back of the classroom concerning schoolgirl crushes? Pay attention! And also, share your computer. Instead of emailing this article to a friend, invite that friend over and the two of you can sit and read at the same time. It will be awkward at first but…

Today we begin with an air of uncertainty. One of my favorite offensive maneuvers, known in the UK as “the slide rule pass” and the US as “the split,” similarly has confounded Hispanics both sides of the Atlantic. While the Spaniards prefer the elegant sounding “pase entrelineas,” (pass between lines),  in Mexico and South America there is lots of talk of “huequitos.” Hueco means a hollow space between two solid objects. I am not referring to your rib cage and the absence of a heart, but rather the five feet between Ricardo Carvalho and Bosingwa. It is prime real estate.

Finally, we move to a  point of confusion. You no doubt have heard the term “goooooooool.” But what does the term “golazo” exactly mean? Sadly, the Real Academia sheds no light in their shadowy nether region. So I will. Golazo is not merely a long-distance blast; that would be “a distancia” or a “zapatazo.” Rather, golazo is a beautiful, fantastic, amazing goal.

Okay, no more optional assignments. Your homework is to watch episode after episode of 12 corazones until you can correctly guess the number of “parejitas” formed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, this is a beginner’s class for English speakers who want to learn the basics of filthy soccer spanish. A caveat – I am  second generation Mexican American (aka “white”) engaged to a gorgeous Nicaraguan woman, and thus these posts will not be a glowing fountain of pristine Castillian Spanish.

This is the stuff your high school Spanish teacher heard in the streets when he studied abroad in Guatemala for two weeks, and it made him nervous. REALLY nervous.

We will begin with the basics. You must crawl (gatear) before you can walk (caminar).

Soccer ball – balon, pelota

Take a shot – tirarle, disparar

Make a pass - pasar, entregar

The word for free kick is a point of confusion among Hispanics and I have heard about 1,000 different variations. In fact, even in English, some people call it a deadball and others call it a setpiece. Thus far, the Real Elliott-emia has discovered these words: balon parado, bola parada, pelota parada, tiro libre. Which is the correct one? Good question.

I propose a congress for a meeting of all Hispanic soccer fans so that we can come to a general consensus. My place. Tomorrow. BYOB. In the meantime, your homework (tarea) is watch half a Mexican league game on Telemundo or a La Liga match on Goltv.  No copying other classmate’s notes (apuntes)!

Do not fret – this is the beginning of a series and I promise plenty more lessons. Just take a moment to digest “pelota” and say it over and over and over.

Note: the Real Academia was not consulted in relation with this article.