The Best Soccer Award Is Waking Up & Being Xavi Hernandez

Awards are for the vain folk that feel the need to be rewarded for greatness. An award, usually a piece of precious metal, is handed to an individual, usually a sentient homo sapiens, based on that individual’s contributions to a particular endeavor. Subjectivity underlines the entire process. Humans clasp at the material to the detriment of the abstract. In soccer, we look at goals and dribbles and sometimes assists. Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo scored a boatload of goals last term. In the attacking third, both cause havoc. However, neither Messi nor Cristiano is a Champion of Europe nor the World with his national team. Both offer immediate impact at various moments during a game, yet disappear for spells.

I don’t think that Xavi deserves a soccer award because this material token would cheapen his accomplishments. Xavi is transcendent – we ironically love him as a footballer for transporting us to a place outside football while we watch him play football. He is the consummate non-footballer footballer.

And here is some proper praise (from a Real Madrid fan, no less). Continue reading “The Best Soccer Award Is Waking Up & Being Xavi Hernandez” »

The Baffling & Blessed Grace of One Argentine Lionel Messi

I’ve heard there was a special chord

That Ray Hudson sang when Messi scored

But you don’t really care for pundits, do you?

It goes like this

The fourth, the fifth

The Xavi pass, the Andres split

The baffled d decomposing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Continue reading “The Baffling & Blessed Grace of One Argentine Lionel Messi” »

The Gerard Depardieu Appreciation Society Proudly Draws Your Attention to X Player…

Genius is not always recognized in its time. Genius is not even always recognized in its own language. We of the present must sometimes toil to correct the omissions, slights, and errors of the past. But above all, we must live fully in the present.

We can never turn back the pages of history to correct the sinking popularity of acting genius Gerard Depardieu. We can never re-write the critical reviews which widely panned Green Card, perhaps the greatest and most accurate immigrant love story of all time. But we can draw your attention to the fact that Gerard, after a personal request, did provide the dubbed French voice of John Travolta in the 1981 film Blowout. You probably didn’t know that before. And now you do. And that’s an important first step.

In terms of soccer, many steps need to be taken. Thus, we have formed a society to sing the praises of players who likewise will be or have been slighted by history. And today we sing the prose equivalent of a melancholic tune for X Player. Continue reading “The Gerard Depardieu Appreciation Society Proudly Draws Your Attention to X Player…” »

Paul Scholes: the Brilliance of Lightning Sans Thunder

There’s only one Paul Scholes. And after his testimonial game, we probably will never see him don a red jersey ever again. To categorize Scholes is to do him cosmic injustice. To describe a talent beyond words is a fool’s errand. Yet the player, who meant so much to so many different fans and players, deserves a tribute. And a tribute he shall receive. Continue reading “Paul Scholes: the Brilliance of Lightning Sans Thunder” »

Michael Carrick: the Ghost Hides Himself Behind Success

Dearly beloved, I am honored to have been elected to deliver this eulogy for a man known to some, seen by few, and widely ignored by most. In fact, he is not dead. Nowhere near. In actuality, his career probably has several blissful and successful years left. Regardless, this man has decided to live a life of anonymity, of lurking in the shadows of giants. Can we fault him for avoiding the limelight? Shall we decry his patience for passivity, his methodical approach for a snail trail?

I speak, of course, of the living ghost that haunts the successful Manchester United midfield of the last few years. Michael Carrick. Continue reading “Michael Carrick: the Ghost Hides Himself Behind Success” »

Zlatan Ibrahimovic – In a League of His Own Making

Zlatan’s year at Barcelona was the most disappointing 21 goal campaign in history. The reason was simple: square pegs, no matter what the quality of wood, will never fit into a circular hole. For all his individual brilliance, Zlatan struggled to fit into the cohesive Catalan attack. But his return to the Serie A with AC Milan has shown that when the Swedish striker is given free reign to play by himself against the opposition, he is unstoppable. Why, you may ask?

There are several reasons, but, simply put, Zlatan physically plays in the Serie A, but spiritually exists in a league of his own making. Continue reading “Zlatan Ibrahimovic – In a League of His Own Making” »

Pandora's Box of Chocolates: Why We Love Chicharito

Brian Phillips of the Run of Play wrote a wonderful portrait about Pato a few years back, focusing on the fine line between potential and accomplishment. He articulated the “Lolita theory of fanlove” – we as fans project dreams and hopes upon a talented youthful player, long before we’ve seen proof or evidence to support our assertions. This Lolita love of youth often creates crushing expectations; we watch our young pup wallow on the bench behind thirty year old strikers, asking ourselves – why? What went wrong?

Yet for every “Lolita”, there comes a “Lolito.” Or, in this case, a “Chicharito.” A manager makes a signing that blows our mind – a young player with little hype explodes to prominence; a blinding spark shoots up from dead stone striking stone. While Chicharito is a Prometheus for fans and the United attack, he is a Pandora’s Box of problems for opposing defenses.

Let’s look at why we love Chicharito, and more importantly how our love is not based on affection for a theoretical “Lolita”, but rather the reality of pleasant surprises. Continue reading “Pandora's Box of Chocolates: Why We Love Chicharito” »

Feel the Wrath of Andrei's Arsha-Vengeance

Arsenal sits top of the English table and the fleet-footed Frenchman Nasri dances to the praise of pundits the world over. Including me. However, a stocky and quick-thinking Russian also deserves some love. Other blogs would debate about Andrei’s recent withdrawn, central role by talking about “false nines” or “attacking tens” or “9.75472′s.” We prefer to praise while playing on words, not numbers.

While Andrei has not scored goals like years past, his assists have been a major asset to the Gunner cause. One must ask: will this be the year of Andrei’s Arsha-Vengeance? Continue reading “Feel the Wrath of Andrei's Arsha-Vengeance” »

The Pide Piper Pippo: A Bale Comparison

Yesterday everybody screamed the praises of one Gareth Bale, one week after a certain disreputable website sang his praises by comparison to the Garbage Pale kids. That disreputable website was this one. And I admit my mistake. Gareth Bale is a shining example of athleticism, a white knight, the hero at the end of the fairy tale who smooches the princess, slays the dragon, and lives happily every after.

But Pippo Inzaghi is not. Which is why I love him. Continue reading “The Pide Piper Pippo: A Bale Comparison” »

A Tribute: Tottenham's Garbage Bale Kid

In the mid80′s, a plague descended upon the land of children toys. The Cabbage Patch kids were as popular as they were antiseptic – ubiquitous in the toy bin of any middle class child, they oozed politically correct proclamations that would makeĀ  Camille Paglia gag. At the outset of the second decade of 2000, debt, administration, and a shift towards the Continent threatens the Premiership’s hold on the world’s imagination. In response to the Cabbage Patch Kids, the folks at Topps trading cards created a rebellious concept – the Garbage Pail kids, a collection of miscreants and misfits to ooze all over the cookie cutter Cabbagers.

And as for the English Premier League? Gareth Bale. Garbage Pail. Gareth Pail? GARBAGE BALE. Because the two are so similar, enjoy our Garbage Pail kids themed tribute to rising star Gareth Bale… Continue reading “A Tribute: Tottenham's Garbage Bale Kid” »