About this FIFA 2010 World Cup: I love the game, and I love the tournament, but I am weary of having to watch poor match officiating. I think we all are. I think the limitations that most of the officials have displayed come down to one thing: pressure. Officials feel it just like players and managers do. As much of a cock-up as Howard Webb was through much of the Premier League season, he performed admirably in the tournament and I think his composure was due to the fact that he has been in big games and handled the pressure before. Sometimes it just seems to me that officials from small confederations go mad in big matches, brandishing cards like party favours and missing big calls. I'm not implying that referees from big nations are immune from making game-changing blunders, but I think it's easier to find quality officials from those nations. Does this kind of social democracy belong in the World Cup? I ask you this, man from Mali.
About Team USA: It's true that we don't have much of a defence. It's true that our forwards don't score much. We're limited, certainly. But...think of this: Most of this squad weren't even 10 years old when the USA returned to the World Cup in 1990. That team was made up of a bunch of college players, journeymen, part-timers--21-year old keeper Tony Meola was given the captaincy, the most senior players were three players aged 27. Their clubs? Three players were based in Europe, playing for the giants Győri, Volendam, and Meppen. All the rest played in what passed for domestic clubs in the USA. It was three-and-out for the Yanks that summer.
So in one generation, the USA went from THAT mess to this squad that was one disallowed goal away from two victories and a draw in the group stage and extra time against a fine Ghana side away from the quarterfinals. Not quite as good as the 2002 side, but then again not quite as experienced as that side either. I don't want my point to get lost by bringing up 2002, however. I'm stunned that in 20 years, the USA went from being a minnow to being expected to move out of the group stage and possibly even make the last 8. And more importantly, I didn't see one minute of the 1990 Cup until the advent of youtube. Italia '90 was a myth. I had seen some of Mexico 1986 due to the fact that I was on holiday and the hotel happened to have Univision (or whatever Spanish-language channel existed back then), but my friends thought I was insane for watching it.
We're becoming much more aware of how great the sport is in this country.
This is one generation removed from ignorance that the Cup was even taking place. I can't imagine how the sport will continue to grow. The advent of web-based content has made it simple to follow leagues all over the world. I truly believe that this has been one of the most important factors in growing interest in the game here--if we can watch it played at the highest levels, if we can see Lio Messi and Wesley Sneijder ply their skills every weekend and in the Uefa Champions League, we'll appreciate it so much more. The appetite for the game is such that Fox has added a second football-based channel. Now people in America can watch league football from England, Germany, Spain, Italy, even France (if that's your thing).
When all that was available 15 years ago was MLS--with its poor play, empty stadiums, whacko rules, ridiculous nicknames and matching uniforms--it was only natural that people might be turned off from "soccer." I couldn't stand MLS. What was with the attempt to copy gridiron? People who really love the game will love it because it's different. Earl the Cleveland Browns fan wasn't going to suddenly start following Columbus because MLS had divisions and a dumb playoff system. The sport should simply try to appeal to people by making it look more like a European league. It's slowly getting there, the quality of play is getting better, but the popularity of the sport in America is directly due to the availability of coverage of the top leagues in the world.
The USMNT is missing a top quality manager. That's the next ingredient. I'm not going to say anything about Bob Bradley as a tactician--I think he's adequate in that department. But he doesn't have the ability to organise the team tightly and they still have trouble killing off games. The early lapses in concentration or lack of defensive preparation in the World Cup cost the USA 3 victories. I sincerely believe that England, Slovenia, and Ghana were winnable matches. If the USA didn't concede early, their athleticism and attacking style would eventually wear down their opponents (Ghana is a different story, I know, but they don't have a Michael Bradley or Clint Dempsey, either). I don't have a problem with Jozy Altidore not scoring when we have three midfielders who score regularly--Jozy's ability to knock the ball down and get it to the wide players and his link-up play are excellent.
The USA's attack doesn't worry me at all; it's the back line that needs much, much work. It's fair to say that Bocanegra, DeMerit, and Cherundolo won't be back in four years. Tim Howard likely won't be around to save their bacon 4 or 5 times each match, either. The priority for US Soccer must be to identify and develop a deeper talent pool of defenders--or else continue to suffer. They also need a coach who can get the team organised and play a little bit tighter when needed. I like to see more players in Europe--I think the nerves that Bornstein eventually overcame could be helped by slugging it out across the Atlantic. If not Europe, then I hope more of our players will consider Latin America. Yes, they get beaten up on the pitch, but that's going to happen wherever we go, so they might as well toughen up now. I thought Gomez might be part of the future but damn, he's already 28. This should have been his World Cup prime--think Brian McBride in 2002.
Ultimately, this World Cup ended for the USA because Bradley couldn't get his starting XI right--and his early subs led to tired legs at the end of the match. If Edu and Feilhaber were the best options in midfield (pushing Dempsey up top in a sort-of free form 4-3-3 in attack and 4-5-1 in defence), then he should have simply started them and junked the rather rigid 4-4-2, thus keeping his subs for late when fatigue clearly became a factor in the 2nd Ghana goal. The transition from attack to defence is what separates the best teams in the world from the rest--what I've seen in this tournament is that Spain, Germany, and Holland do it best. Traditional formations seem to blur with them--Robben and Sneijder aren't strikers but are getting the goals. Podolski and Muller support Klose as forwards in attack but go back to win the ball in defence. Spain--well, Spain are different.
The USA needs a manager who can use that kind of flexibility to support a defence that has yet to come together for our national team. There are promising players in this squad that I expect will come back better in 4 years time--Michael Bradley will only be 26, Stu Holden 28, Bornstein 29, Torres 26, Jozy 24, Edu 28, and Feilhaber 29. That, along with Brad Guzan (he'll be 29) is the nucleus of a strong team. Use it well, along with a few newcomers that we probably don't even know yet, and the expectations for the team could be even higher than this year. Does Jürgen Klinsmann finally get the call?
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
Tuesday, June 08, 2010
The REAL Tea Party
I'm not one for conspiracies, or, at least I hope I'm not. The idea of shadow governments, backroom deals, under-the-table payoffs, and secretive, hush-hush agreements seem exciting, but in the long run there is so little chance that human beings will keep silent that conspiracies will almost always come to light. Not only that, but most conspiracy theories, no matter how elaborate, are really just attempts to simplify difficult outcomes.
Our minds find it hard to accept random events, to believe in the arbitrary nature of the universe. Conspiracy theories are, at their simplest, a god-substitute.
Having said all that, when the 2010 FIFA World Cup draw was made, at least one group looked to me to be fixed. One group, C, and one match: USA v. England, taking place this Saturday, 12 June.
I, and millions of others in America, wanted this match. There's "Something About England," and their supporters, and football, and El Equipo de Todos, as Fernando Fiore called Team USA in 2002.
To follow football in America and be American had until recently involved one method that could be both convivial and contentious: The local ex-pat "English Pub," and making a pilgrimage there each Saturday or Sunday morning to view the Premier League via the bar's satellite feed. The Englishmen in those pubs could never take the Yanks seriously, never listen to their reasonable opinions spoken in American accents, and never miss an opportunity to slate them and their knowledge of the game.
Loud and obnoxious, rude and profane, the English in America took great pleasure in slagging off American football fans, American culture, American ales and lagers, and above all else "soccer" in America. The English, as they may on occasion humbly remind the rest of the world, invented the game! How could their ignorant American cousins know anything about it, or understand it at even the most rudimentary level?
Never mind that in their long history of playing their native sport, the English have won exactly ONE major (i.e., World Cup or Uefa Championship) tournament, that that victory took place on home soil, and that, in case they haven't reminded you lately about it, it took place 44 years ago. No, never mind that. They are the keepers of the game and its traditions. They are the honest, hard-working "lads" who play in the spirit of fairness, who only lose because of cheating referees, diving and conniving "Johnny Foreigners," dodgy pitches, or even the Hand of God!
And we, naive little colonists, despite having beaten England in the World Cup finals in 1950 (before our somewhat self-imposed 40-year absence from the tournament), cannot understand such things. We call it soccer, we weren't steeped in the traditions of the game, Wembley, Alf Ramsey, Bobby Moore, Bobby Charlton, Geoff Hurst, Terry Butcher, Gazza's tears, Gareth Southgate, Stuart Pearce...
The English football supporter cannot see himself as a whinging, myopic, self-absorbed c**t.
The USA is a nation of some 300,000,000 people. If 90% of our population ignore football, 30 million are still following it. When big foreign clubs tour the USA each summer, the grounds--which, I might add, hold more supporters than all but the largest venues in England--are sold out. Suddenly, there are bars and pubs where the customers are more American than English on those Saturday mornings. A large influx of Latin Americans into the country have influenced our tastes. We have professional teams in cities across North America--and I'm not just talking the MLS, as I can go and watch the New Orleans Jesters versus teams from across the southeastern United States.
Knowing all this, I think most Americans who follow the sport are at the end of our patience and willingness to accept that the average loudmouthed Englishman, through his very DNA, knows more about football than we do. I think we are sick of the patronising tone of their commentators and pundits. I think the ignorance of how popular the sport is here in America that they routinely show needs to be enlightened. I think John Motson needs to be taught a lesson.
Before the World Cup draw, I told my football-following friends that I wanted one game for the USA, and that really, only one game mattered. I wanted our boys to take on England, on the world's biggest stage. Strangely enough, the one game that mattered is going to take place, out of a blind draw! A game that will be played at 2:00 in the afternoon, East Coast time. On the opening Saturday of the tournament. Televised on America's largest sports network.
Conspiracy theory? Certainly not. FIFA, those fine, upstanding gentlemen, would never engage in such behaviour!
I'll see you this weekend. If the USA lose to England, so be it. All we wanted is the chance. And thanks to the completely random events of the World Cup draw, we have it.
p.s.--Wayne Rooney, John Terry, Steven Gerrard, and Ashley Cole are cunts.
Our minds find it hard to accept random events, to believe in the arbitrary nature of the universe. Conspiracy theories are, at their simplest, a god-substitute.
Having said all that, when the 2010 FIFA World Cup draw was made, at least one group looked to me to be fixed. One group, C, and one match: USA v. England, taking place this Saturday, 12 June.
I, and millions of others in America, wanted this match. There's "Something About England," and their supporters, and football, and El Equipo de Todos, as Fernando Fiore called Team USA in 2002.
To follow football in America and be American had until recently involved one method that could be both convivial and contentious: The local ex-pat "English Pub," and making a pilgrimage there each Saturday or Sunday morning to view the Premier League via the bar's satellite feed. The Englishmen in those pubs could never take the Yanks seriously, never listen to their reasonable opinions spoken in American accents, and never miss an opportunity to slate them and their knowledge of the game.
Loud and obnoxious, rude and profane, the English in America took great pleasure in slagging off American football fans, American culture, American ales and lagers, and above all else "soccer" in America. The English, as they may on occasion humbly remind the rest of the world, invented the game! How could their ignorant American cousins know anything about it, or understand it at even the most rudimentary level?
Never mind that in their long history of playing their native sport, the English have won exactly ONE major (i.e., World Cup or Uefa Championship) tournament, that that victory took place on home soil, and that, in case they haven't reminded you lately about it, it took place 44 years ago. No, never mind that. They are the keepers of the game and its traditions. They are the honest, hard-working "lads" who play in the spirit of fairness, who only lose because of cheating referees, diving and conniving "Johnny Foreigners," dodgy pitches, or even the Hand of God!
And we, naive little colonists, despite having beaten England in the World Cup finals in 1950 (before our somewhat self-imposed 40-year absence from the tournament), cannot understand such things. We call it soccer, we weren't steeped in the traditions of the game, Wembley, Alf Ramsey, Bobby Moore, Bobby Charlton, Geoff Hurst, Terry Butcher, Gazza's tears, Gareth Southgate, Stuart Pearce...
The English football supporter cannot see himself as a whinging, myopic, self-absorbed c**t.
The USA is a nation of some 300,000,000 people. If 90% of our population ignore football, 30 million are still following it. When big foreign clubs tour the USA each summer, the grounds--which, I might add, hold more supporters than all but the largest venues in England--are sold out. Suddenly, there are bars and pubs where the customers are more American than English on those Saturday mornings. A large influx of Latin Americans into the country have influenced our tastes. We have professional teams in cities across North America--and I'm not just talking the MLS, as I can go and watch the New Orleans Jesters versus teams from across the southeastern United States.
Knowing all this, I think most Americans who follow the sport are at the end of our patience and willingness to accept that the average loudmouthed Englishman, through his very DNA, knows more about football than we do. I think we are sick of the patronising tone of their commentators and pundits. I think the ignorance of how popular the sport is here in America that they routinely show needs to be enlightened. I think John Motson needs to be taught a lesson.
Before the World Cup draw, I told my football-following friends that I wanted one game for the USA, and that really, only one game mattered. I wanted our boys to take on England, on the world's biggest stage. Strangely enough, the one game that mattered is going to take place, out of a blind draw! A game that will be played at 2:00 in the afternoon, East Coast time. On the opening Saturday of the tournament. Televised on America's largest sports network.
Conspiracy theory? Certainly not. FIFA, those fine, upstanding gentlemen, would never engage in such behaviour!
I'll see you this weekend. If the USA lose to England, so be it. All we wanted is the chance. And thanks to the completely random events of the World Cup draw, we have it.
p.s.--Wayne Rooney, John Terry, Steven Gerrard, and Ashley Cole are cunts.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Stuff: It happens to everyone
I recently found a universal truth. Actually, I have found several of them. I haven't decided yet if they are related to one another. I may. I may do some intense research on that possibility.
The first of these revelations is that Colin Cowherd sucks. This blowhard fancies himself some kind of sports radio talk host. He looks like the jerk from high school who thought the band was cool, no, who thought the band was badass. And yes, I am indeed going to make fun of his appearance. Before I had seen him, I thought from the way he talked about himself that he was in some way a smooth dude, but he is obviously a geek who got abused by jocks somewhere along the way and is now taking his revenge on the sports world by pretending to talk about it.
And talk about it with a whiny, nasal, grating voice that sounds more like it belonged on a Hannah-Barbera cartoon as one of their archetypal over-officious boss characters. "Get in here, Flintstone!" you can almost hear him say.
Yet if he had anything even remotely interesting to say about sports, perhaps his numerous other flaws might not matter as much.
Instead, he passes himself off as a "business man." He brays that his audience is made up of "CEOs, entrepreneurs, guys who make decisions." From what I've heard when that audience calls the show, the only decision they make is whether to stay on the couch and piss in their adult diapers or actually make it to the can this time.
He is the ultimate frontrunner. He drones on and on about Kobe, LeBron, the Yankees, the Cowboys, Notre Dame football, and USC football. He spends hours talking about the television ratings of various events. He talks about jersey sales. In other words, he is boring. He can spend entire days telling his audience why TV networks want the Yankees to win.
REALLY? It takes you HOURS to tell people that. Who doesn't already know this boring crap? "Blah blah blah, Duke saved the NCAA tournament because nobody wants to watch Butler."
Hey buddy, do you actually know anything about the sports you talk about? Why don't you go on CNBC or Fox Business? Or better yet, because you would annoy so many people on those channels, Bloomberg TV. Jersey sales? Ratings? What is this, "Daily Variety?" zzzzzzzzzz...
Instead of bleating on and on about the most obvious things in the world, why not tell us who the NEXT Kobe or LeBron is? Why not give some actual insight into something taking place in sport, instead of "Kobe and LeBron is interesting television." Is it? IS IT REALLY? ARE YOU SURE? ARE YOU ABSO-F***ING-LUTELY SURE, NERD? Maybe you could talk about which baseball teams have the best player development systems? No, that would require actual knowledge of your subject, and you have demonstrated every day for years now that you HAVE NONE.
So this jerk gets a radio show that is neither morning drive nor afternoon drive. Does that say anything? There's a reason you weren't given Dan Patrick's spot, goober. It's because YOU SUCK. If you really were cool, you wouldn't have to talk about what a great businessman you are, you wouldn't have to brag about how hard you work, you wouldn't need to remind us how busy you are, because you wouldn't have to. Hard work is obvious. I don't hear Mike & Mike bragging about themselves and how hard they work. Do you know why? BECAUSE IT SHOWS IN THEIR EFFORTS. Your audience is made up of CEOs, huh? Sure. Jack Welch wakes up every day panting at the thought of listening to your grating voice prattle on about the most obvious stories in the world.
Do sports radio fans a favour and please go far, far away from a microphone, and never come back to one again. Thanks!
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
If you go back, deep into the archives of this off-again, on-again blog, you'll learn that 5 years ago I was involved with a girl who suffers from bipolar disorder. It was as much fun as it was terrible, which if you think about it ought to be obvious. Well, last summer she contacted me and told me that she had been working hard to improve her life, that she no longer abused drugs and alcohol, and that she had feelings for me. I pondered the possibility of getting involved with her again, and decided that since we live a good 7 hours drive apart, it couldn't really hurt. And she was indeed doing better.
Just be prepared if you ever decide to involve yourself with someone with a serious mental disorder. It never really gets better. Never.
She is beautiful, strikingly beautiful, she has a good heart and a great sense of humour. But brother, when that wind in her mind shifts direction, it really shifts direction. I went to a support meeting for families of people with mental illness, and at the very end when I was leaving, a woman asked me, "You mean you would willingly get involved with someone who has bipolar disorder?"
So universal truth number two: Crazy people are crazy and they stay crazy. They don't ever stop being crazy. Enter at your own risk. The world assumes no liability for you.
The first of these revelations is that Colin Cowherd sucks. This blowhard fancies himself some kind of sports radio talk host. He looks like the jerk from high school who thought the band was cool, no, who thought the band was badass. And yes, I am indeed going to make fun of his appearance. Before I had seen him, I thought from the way he talked about himself that he was in some way a smooth dude, but he is obviously a geek who got abused by jocks somewhere along the way and is now taking his revenge on the sports world by pretending to talk about it.
And talk about it with a whiny, nasal, grating voice that sounds more like it belonged on a Hannah-Barbera cartoon as one of their archetypal over-officious boss characters. "Get in here, Flintstone!" you can almost hear him say.
Yet if he had anything even remotely interesting to say about sports, perhaps his numerous other flaws might not matter as much.
Instead, he passes himself off as a "business man." He brays that his audience is made up of "CEOs, entrepreneurs, guys who make decisions." From what I've heard when that audience calls the show, the only decision they make is whether to stay on the couch and piss in their adult diapers or actually make it to the can this time.
He is the ultimate frontrunner. He drones on and on about Kobe, LeBron, the Yankees, the Cowboys, Notre Dame football, and USC football. He spends hours talking about the television ratings of various events. He talks about jersey sales. In other words, he is boring. He can spend entire days telling his audience why TV networks want the Yankees to win.
REALLY? It takes you HOURS to tell people that. Who doesn't already know this boring crap? "Blah blah blah, Duke saved the NCAA tournament because nobody wants to watch Butler."
Hey buddy, do you actually know anything about the sports you talk about? Why don't you go on CNBC or Fox Business? Or better yet, because you would annoy so many people on those channels, Bloomberg TV. Jersey sales? Ratings? What is this, "Daily Variety?" zzzzzzzzzz...
Instead of bleating on and on about the most obvious things in the world, why not tell us who the NEXT Kobe or LeBron is? Why not give some actual insight into something taking place in sport, instead of "Kobe and LeBron is interesting television." Is it? IS IT REALLY? ARE YOU SURE? ARE YOU ABSO-F***ING-LUTELY SURE, NERD? Maybe you could talk about which baseball teams have the best player development systems? No, that would require actual knowledge of your subject, and you have demonstrated every day for years now that you HAVE NONE.
So this jerk gets a radio show that is neither morning drive nor afternoon drive. Does that say anything? There's a reason you weren't given Dan Patrick's spot, goober. It's because YOU SUCK. If you really were cool, you wouldn't have to talk about what a great businessman you are, you wouldn't have to brag about how hard you work, you wouldn't need to remind us how busy you are, because you wouldn't have to. Hard work is obvious. I don't hear Mike & Mike bragging about themselves and how hard they work. Do you know why? BECAUSE IT SHOWS IN THEIR EFFORTS. Your audience is made up of CEOs, huh? Sure. Jack Welch wakes up every day panting at the thought of listening to your grating voice prattle on about the most obvious stories in the world.
Do sports radio fans a favour and please go far, far away from a microphone, and never come back to one again. Thanks!
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
If you go back, deep into the archives of this off-again, on-again blog, you'll learn that 5 years ago I was involved with a girl who suffers from bipolar disorder. It was as much fun as it was terrible, which if you think about it ought to be obvious. Well, last summer she contacted me and told me that she had been working hard to improve her life, that she no longer abused drugs and alcohol, and that she had feelings for me. I pondered the possibility of getting involved with her again, and decided that since we live a good 7 hours drive apart, it couldn't really hurt. And she was indeed doing better.
Just be prepared if you ever decide to involve yourself with someone with a serious mental disorder. It never really gets better. Never.
She is beautiful, strikingly beautiful, she has a good heart and a great sense of humour. But brother, when that wind in her mind shifts direction, it really shifts direction. I went to a support meeting for families of people with mental illness, and at the very end when I was leaving, a woman asked me, "You mean you would willingly get involved with someone who has bipolar disorder?"
So universal truth number two: Crazy people are crazy and they stay crazy. They don't ever stop being crazy. Enter at your own risk. The world assumes no liability for you.
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Sports can just suck donkey dong
How bad is it, Antonio?
Ah, well, you see, I recently decided to check out of politics completely. I don't want to think about it. American politics is a waste of time. I am not going to influence anything anyone does. I'd love to think of myself as grand enough to shape events, but I can't, and I never will. I've wasted my life so much that I won't ever be important enough to directly influence the political landscape.
It wasn't just my own ineffectual reality that did me in, however--I wouldn't want you to think that up until that point I fancied myself so important. It was the realisation that people in the USA are childish and stupid and our politics are arrested in some state of permanent adolescence. I'm done with it. People are childish and so easily manipulated, and the negative thoughts I would routinely experience because of this were seeping into my daily routine. I want to think good thoughts (not necessarily "happy" thoughts, mind) positive thoughts, because I have seen that those thoughts influence my life. I cleanse myself of pessimism. I renounce negativity.
I have decided that the best, and for that matter the MOST I can do is try to do the right thing in my small space of the world. I cannot say what is the best thing I can do FOR you or TO you; but I can say that I will try to organise my actions in such a way that they cause you no harm.
I gave up the morning NPR listening because of the negative and frustrating thoughts that would be made manifest each day. In its place I listen to "Mike & Mike in the Morning." Even that can occasionally bug me but I don't see lives in the balance when I hear how wonderful Mr. American Football is.
Sport, you see, can be the cheery little diversion until the sides with whom you've invested yourself become stricken with some sort of disorder. I don't believe we choose the clubs or schools we follow; rather, they choose us.
Arsenal, then, chose me some 14 years ago. This was pre-Wenger, pre-doubles, pre-Invincibles; Bruce Rioch was the manager. So what happened? Was I spoilt by the success Wenger brought? Did experiencing the success of Bobby Bowden's FSU teams in the 1990s ruin me? Would I spend all the years after Leeman Bennett coached the Falcons wishing they were good again? Will I ever get past the success the Braves had for 14 straight seasons? How long did I miss "Atlanta's Air Force" after the Fratello years with the Hawks?
And so that brings me to the team that rescued me during my 1992 divorce from a mentally ill woman--I speak of the University of Massachusetts Men's Basketball team. I did not know that it had been 31 years between appearances in the NCAA tournament for UMass. I did not know the coach was John Calipari. I didn't know the players or the history. What I knew was that one Sunday afternoon in March 1992, I went into my office at City Hall in Atlanta and watched the tournament, long my favourite sporting event in America. And I knew that I hated Syracuse, and I got to see UMass beat Syracuse in an amazing and dramatic fashion, and the players were elated and that was that--as the Christ might have extended his hand and told me to follow, UMass bade me to become a disciple. And there is no devotion quite like that of the convert.
There followed 4 more years of glory and drama, and then the decade of agony. There is agony now with the team in yet another rebuilding year. UMass and Arsenal are perpetually getting ready for the next campaign, and they are probably the two teams with which I am most invested. And for some reason, they are the teams which seem to experience the most angst.
They are not able to solve their problems. They cannot find the resources to compete. They make poor choices with personnel or their personnel make poor choices. Good players go bad or have weaknesses exposed before the entire world. And above all else--and this is truly the way I can tell that the clubs chose me, and not the other way 'round--their supporters are in an eternal state of overwrought emotion.
My support for these dysfunctional clubs stands in contrast to the simultaneous success of those which I despise. It's not West Ham United or Fulham who top the league table, it's Chelsea and ManU. It's not NC-Charlotte or Duquesne running roughshod over the A10, it's once again Temple. The Atlanta Falcons most bitter rivals, the Saints, are "enjoying a magical season." Oh who gives a right proper f***?
Even when I reject politics, sport seem to provide no refuge. Maybe it really is all about "Family Guy."
Ah, well, you see, I recently decided to check out of politics completely. I don't want to think about it. American politics is a waste of time. I am not going to influence anything anyone does. I'd love to think of myself as grand enough to shape events, but I can't, and I never will. I've wasted my life so much that I won't ever be important enough to directly influence the political landscape.
It wasn't just my own ineffectual reality that did me in, however--I wouldn't want you to think that up until that point I fancied myself so important. It was the realisation that people in the USA are childish and stupid and our politics are arrested in some state of permanent adolescence. I'm done with it. People are childish and so easily manipulated, and the negative thoughts I would routinely experience because of this were seeping into my daily routine. I want to think good thoughts (not necessarily "happy" thoughts, mind) positive thoughts, because I have seen that those thoughts influence my life. I cleanse myself of pessimism. I renounce negativity.
I have decided that the best, and for that matter the MOST I can do is try to do the right thing in my small space of the world. I cannot say what is the best thing I can do FOR you or TO you; but I can say that I will try to organise my actions in such a way that they cause you no harm.
I gave up the morning NPR listening because of the negative and frustrating thoughts that would be made manifest each day. In its place I listen to "Mike & Mike in the Morning." Even that can occasionally bug me but I don't see lives in the balance when I hear how wonderful Mr. American Football is.
Sport, you see, can be the cheery little diversion until the sides with whom you've invested yourself become stricken with some sort of disorder. I don't believe we choose the clubs or schools we follow; rather, they choose us.
Arsenal, then, chose me some 14 years ago. This was pre-Wenger, pre-doubles, pre-Invincibles; Bruce Rioch was the manager. So what happened? Was I spoilt by the success Wenger brought? Did experiencing the success of Bobby Bowden's FSU teams in the 1990s ruin me? Would I spend all the years after Leeman Bennett coached the Falcons wishing they were good again? Will I ever get past the success the Braves had for 14 straight seasons? How long did I miss "Atlanta's Air Force" after the Fratello years with the Hawks?
And so that brings me to the team that rescued me during my 1992 divorce from a mentally ill woman--I speak of the University of Massachusetts Men's Basketball team. I did not know that it had been 31 years between appearances in the NCAA tournament for UMass. I did not know the coach was John Calipari. I didn't know the players or the history. What I knew was that one Sunday afternoon in March 1992, I went into my office at City Hall in Atlanta and watched the tournament, long my favourite sporting event in America. And I knew that I hated Syracuse, and I got to see UMass beat Syracuse in an amazing and dramatic fashion, and the players were elated and that was that--as the Christ might have extended his hand and told me to follow, UMass bade me to become a disciple. And there is no devotion quite like that of the convert.
There followed 4 more years of glory and drama, and then the decade of agony. There is agony now with the team in yet another rebuilding year. UMass and Arsenal are perpetually getting ready for the next campaign, and they are probably the two teams with which I am most invested. And for some reason, they are the teams which seem to experience the most angst.
They are not able to solve their problems. They cannot find the resources to compete. They make poor choices with personnel or their personnel make poor choices. Good players go bad or have weaknesses exposed before the entire world. And above all else--and this is truly the way I can tell that the clubs chose me, and not the other way 'round--their supporters are in an eternal state of overwrought emotion.
My support for these dysfunctional clubs stands in contrast to the simultaneous success of those which I despise. It's not West Ham United or Fulham who top the league table, it's Chelsea and ManU. It's not NC-Charlotte or Duquesne running roughshod over the A10, it's once again Temple. The Atlanta Falcons most bitter rivals, the Saints, are "enjoying a magical season." Oh who gives a right proper f***?
Even when I reject politics, sport seem to provide no refuge. Maybe it really is all about "Family Guy."
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