a pretty move

a season in 'Little Mexico'

2010-09-19T08:59:00.013-04:00

Woodburn High School, located in Woodburn, Oregon just outside of Portland, consistently produces hugely talented soccer players--most of them children of immigrants or immigrants themselves--who have grown up playing the sport "in the street"--that is, with players of all ages, sizes, and skill levels, which often leads to better, more well-rounded players. Yet they lack the privileges of students at richer, whiter schools, whose parents have the time and money to send them to private soccer clubs throughout the school year to refine those skills. In his book The Boys From Little Mexico, Steve Wilson writes of the clash between the Woodburn High School students and the wealthy pupils of Lakeridge, from the affluent Portland suburb Lake Oswego:

Only 5 percent of Lakeridge students are eligible for a free or reduced lunch. At Woodburn High, 75 percent of the students are eligible for a free or reduced lunch.

...The one place the two communities come together on equal footing is on the soccer field. Not coincidentally, the two demographic groups represented on the field--upper-middle-class Anglos and working-class Hispanics--are also the two groups in the United States for whom soccer is a real sport and not a punch line.

Wilson hails from apm's old headquarters of Portland, Oregon, and he recently took the time to answer some questions from us about his book, one which seems to me particularly significant in a time when the anti-immigration voices in the US have grown especially shrill and hateful. He uses Woodburn's soccer team, the Bulldogs, to tell not just a story about soccer, and American soccer in particular, but a story about a new generation of immigrants in the US--who, like persecuted Irish immigrants and loathed Italian immigrants and other groups before them bear the brunt of a nation's collective insecurity and wholesale identity crisis.

Steve and I talked about immigration, and the need for better recruitment of soccer players among Hispanics, and, of course, footy. So, without further ado, here's our conversation:

At the beginning of the book, you mention seeing and then losing an article about the Woodburn soccer team, but what made you decide to write this book in the first place? Are you a soccer fan? What aspect(s) of the story compelled you to take on this project?

I have been writing essays and nonfiction articles for years, mostly about travel. That stemmed from a fairly footloose period in my twenties, when I traveled a lot to inexpensive countries, including Mexico. During my travels I became very interested in the way that people from different cultures interact, and I was looking for a story about that kind of cultural clash when I read about the Bulldogs.

So, I was not a soccer fan before I began following the Woodburn team. I had been to some professional games, dating back to the old NASL San Jose Earthquakes when I was a kid. I also attended some games overseas. But the soccer aspect of the story was for me, initially at least, simply part of the larger story of being an outsider in America. As soccer fans in the U.S. know, enjoying the Beautiful Game is enough to set you apart from all the usual football-baseball-basketball sports fans, even if you grew up in America. Since soccer is such a big part of Mexican culture, the mostly Mexican and Mexican-American kids in Woodburn not only had a different language, different social roles, and darker skin than the stereotypical "American," they also were passionate about a sport most Americans don't follow.

With that said, I became a big soccer fan by the end of the season. Partially this was because I was around the Bulldogs so much, and I began to care about the things they cared about, but also it came from standing on the sidelines. Seen on a TV screen, soccer can appear to be slow and not very physical. But as I learned standing just feet away from the action, it is a tough, physical, and exciting game. I think it's a great sport.

What were the most difficult/frustrating aspects of researching and writing this and the most enjoyable/rewarding parts?

The most difficult aspect was that Woodburn is about an hour from my house, and I did the research while in grad school. I also had a part-time job and a small child, so I was constantly rushing to get to games and rushing to get to class and back home. It would have been better to move to Woodburn. These practical concerns also limited the amount of time that I had to poke around town, and so limited the number of people I could speak to during the season. This is why the book is structured the way it is structured, giving over sections to the larger life stories of Carlos and Octavio, because these stories I could get through interviews at any time, rather than just during the season.

The most enjoyable part was definitely hanging out with the Bulldogs at practices and before games. I was in my late 30s when I was doing the research, so it had been a while since I had been in high school. Spending time with all these 16 and 17 year-old boys reminded me of how much fun it can be to be that age. They were mostly cheerful and fun-loving in that very particular teenage-boy way, lots of physical humor and jokes about girlfriends. They weren't stressing out about paying the mortgage or picking up their kid from day care on time. They just wanted to have fun and play soccer. It was nice to be around that kind of energy.

I came to this book as a huge soccer fan, of course, but I think this is also an important book given the state of the immigration in the US right now. Have you had any feedback regarding that aspect of the book?

Readers are quick to pick up on the immigration aspect of the book, and the most insightful reviews that I have seen point out that although there is a lot of soccer in the book, Boys is not really a soccer book. It's really about these kids trying to find their place in a country that isn't really ready for them. I've had several radio interviews where time was spent on this topic and hopefully, with the current immigration debate, that will continue.

Are you still in touch with any of the people you wrote about in the book?

We had a team reunion in July, which was the first time I had seen many of the kids in years. I am in touch more regularly with the people who have very central roles in the book: Coach Flannigan, Omar, Carlos, and Octavio. Mike Flannigan is coaching again, a youth club team this time; Omar is still trying to sell his house and move to Texas, Carlos is about to start his senior year in college, and Octavio is back in the U.S. ready to start his junior year at college.

Do you read soccer books, or did you read any soccer or more general sports books in preparation for writing this one? Any that you particularly recommend?

For background information on soccer, I relied heavily on Soccer Rules Explained by Stanley Lover, and The Simplest Game, by Paul Gardner. I found Offside: Soccer and American Exceptionalism, by Markovits and Hellerman, to be very useful, as well as Soccer Against The Enemy by Simon Kuper and How Soccer Explains the World by Franklin Foer.

I read quite a few sports narratives in preparation for organizing the narrative of Boys. The two that were most useful to me were Friday Night Lights by HG Bissenger and Fall River Dreams by Bill Reynolds. Anybody who hasn't read Friday Night Lights should run out and do so immediately--it is the prototype for taking a sport and using it as a lens through which to examine a community. It is also at times beautifully written.

As someone who’s very frustrated with US soccer’s continued inability to effectively reach out to Hispanic/Latino communities and recruit beyond the upper middle class private soccer clubs, I really like that you addressed this issue in the book. I think we’ve got a wealth of soccer talent in this country which is simply going to waste. Do you have any further thoughts on this, or how it might be more effectively addressed?

Common wisdom is that the mostly Mexican and Mexican-American soccer talent in the U.S. has not been tapped because we scout our future professionals through elite (and expensive) club teams and colleges. I agree with this. I also don't see that American teams will expand their scouting to include high school and adult men's league teams (where most Latino teens play) until soccer is a much larger sport in the U.S.

I equate this to basketball. We have all heard stories of young black men scouted on the playgrounds of American cities, usually by people with relationships to private high schools. This happens because of the incredible wealth that is generated by the NBA and college basketball, and by the prestige high schools receive that produce top NBA and college players. (No doubt there is money making its way to the high school as well, although I have not done any research on that.)

Soccer in the U.S. doesn't have that kind of money or infrastructure, and until it does, I expect that we will continue to miss talented Latino players.

On the other hand, as we have seen recently, Mexican teams do have that kind of scouting system, and Mexican scouts have been traveling the U.S. looking for potential players, especially those with Mexican passports. What is interesting to me about this is that for the first time we are seeing some of those players making the decision to return to the U.S. to play, after getting their start in Mexico. We saw this on the U.S. National team, with Herculez Gomez and Jose Torres, both of whom slipped though the MLS cracks before finding success in Mexico. Here in Portland, we're seeing another example of it with Omar Salgado, who is trying out for the Timbers in preparation for the MLS Superdraft. Salgado is from El Paso, but has been playing for Chivas's U20 team and could have decided to stay in Mexico. With our growing Latino population mostly fueled by Mexican immigration, I expect to see more kids with roots in both countries choosing to play in the U.S. because of non-soccer reasons, such as family or lifestyle. As soccer continues to grow in the U.S., that decision should become an easier one to make.

Is there anything else you’d like to add?

Soccer and immigration in the U.S. are bound together in the U.S. I see our country's changing demographics reflecting that bond through soccer's ongoing growth in popularity. However, I think that growth will take place over generations. Soccer fans need to be ready for a long, slow road to acceptance in this country, just as immigrants do.

Thanks for the questions. Go Timbers!

true heroes of the pitch

2010-07-11T18:56:00.000-04:00

My two longtime favorite players. Whether it's at Barca or for Spain... they are true heroes of the pitch. After their performances in this World Cup, I don't think they'll have to pay for another meal or drink for the rest of their lives.

These goofy photos are FC Barcelona postcards that I purchased in Barcelona in 2008. I carry them with me at all times. Is there something wrong with that? Why are you looking at me so funny?

Onward!

2010-07-07T20:09:00.000-04:00

I'll post my own idiosyncratic thoughts about the Spain v Germany match tomorrow... until then you can read Jonathan Wilson's excellent and cohesive article about the match instead. He's spot on. Also, German coach Joachim Low was a total gentleman after the match with his comments. Not always the easiest thing to be. As usual, Germany were good, difficult opponents.

I'm more relaxed now than I was a few hours ago, but my brain is still squiggly. But I'm happy. Very, very happy.

may his pernicious soul rot half a grain a day! he lies to the heart...

2010-07-03T19:59:00.008-04:00

I have no idea why I got in the car with him.

She promised me that she'd use the $20 for food.

If you had seen his eyes when he asked me... would you have called him a liar?

She seemed so sincere. I really did think she had changed.

He said someone must have stolen it when he wasn't looking.

Why the hell did I sleep with her again? After everything she's done to me!

I believed her. I believed him.
I hate you.

I can't believe what a fool I was to have trusted Diego Maradona. There's no question regarding the brilliance of Maradona the player. But the coach? I had suspicions from the start. In fact, I thought he was a terrible choice. I wasn't alone. Numerous Argentinians, and admirers of the team from around the world, voiced similar outrage over his role as head of the national squad. How could this crazy artist of the pitch, this holy fool of the beautiful game, command a team into the most prestigious of all football arenas... the World Cup? Well, obviously he can't. We know this now after Argentina's severe beat-down by Germany. We know this now, because some of us still can't get the images of the assault out of our heads. I know this now because I trusted this man to lead the charge when I knew deep down, even at the beginning of the tournament, that Argentina's road to glory was folly.

Thankfully, this incident doesn't hurt like the 2006 loss to Germany in the quarterfinals did. Not sure why. Maybe it was because Argentina didn't even score in this one. If we had put up a real fight, if Messi had actually connected with the net, it would perhaps be a different story. But punches still bruise and I feel achy all over.

Over the last few weeks, Maradona had convinced me that maybe this team really did have it in them to go all the way. Like I said, I initially wrote them off. Argentina, because of the way they approach the game, are dear to my heart. But so is Spain and I've been praying for a realistic Spanish run for the cup since 2008 when pretty much the same squad won the European Championship, a treasured moment in my football-watching life. Beautiful football won the day, style and short tidy passing conquered Blitzkrieg strength and power, and there was free money and booze for everyone! Ah, yes, it was wonderful.

Argentina couldn't figure out how to diffuse the German onslaught. I hope Spain can remember how they did it to them in the Euro final. It's not impossible, as Serbia reminded us all when they clipped Germany's passing game. But Serbia was all about defense... and Spain don't truck with that anti-football bullshit. So... we'll see in a few days.

In the meantime... I'm going to keep my hate on for Maradona. Pendejo!

i see the devil gloating as arjen robben writhes on his deathbed in an agony of remorse for a life of crime and cowardice on the football pitch

2010-07-02T11:48:00.007-04:00

Arjen Robben is one of those humans who make me hope there is indeed a Hell. If there is, he will burn relentlessly and eternally in that deep and terrible circle reserved for diving crybabies. He is the poster-child for those loathesome, cynical footballers (many of whom, not coincidentally, have been too long associated with Jose Mourinho) who would rather win not through hard work, CERTAINLY not through beautiful play (such a man scoffs at the idea), but through manipulative power-plays and orchestrated hysterics aimed at convincing referees to do the bulk of his work for him. Which, too often, they do.

All the hype about Holland, all these years... Maybe they were beautiful once. There is no beauty now. Although you do have to love Sneijder's first goal, that long ball from nowhere that curled into the top corner. Even I enjoyed that. The rest of the Orangeness... Well, they can go to Hell.

So, next, Uruguay. (Alright, I'm jumping ahead here a little. It's possible Ghana may provide Forlan with his inevitable martyrdom, but I hope not, since Ghana v Holland is not a match I want to watch.) I am interested, in an oddly detached sort of way, since there will be little beauty involved on either side, to see what the crusading Saint Forlan can devise for these fellows.

Brazil was never my favorite team, but they've seduced me some in this tournament with their confidence and flash. I fell in love with Luis Fabiano, mostly for that extraordinary, double-handball goal against the Ivory Coast. It looked like such a gorgeous move until you watched the replays and saw the sleight-of-hand. Still, one marvels at the art of it, since even the defenders around him seem to have missed its illicit aspect. Does it seem like hypocrisy, loving Brazil for a gorgeous cheat and hating Holland for ugly cheating? Well, call it that, then. It's the aesthetic that makes the difference. Beautiful football is beautiful football; there's an art to it, even when you're exploring its shadier sides. Brazil has always known this, as has that epitome of lovable cheats, Diego Maradona. If it makes you laugh, if you can marvel at it, take a moment home with you and examine it joyfully under the light, then that was a moment of great football, and Fabiano's goal provided one such. Arjen Robben I think has never in his life done a thing of beauty. I suspect he would not know beauty if it bit him in the ass.

He would, however, writhe around howling on the grass until some referee, beaten down and exhausted by Robben's tireless chicanery, gave Beauty a red-card.

world cup 2010: usa lose to ghana

2010-06-26T18:14:00.000-04:00

The US team lost to Ghana 2-1 in their knockout round World Cup match. It was fierce at times, but fatigue and wear and tear were obviously taking a toll on the Yanks. It was only Wednesday when Landon Donovan boldly won the match for the US in stoppage time against Algeria. The soccer gods blessed the team that night... but you can only cruise with their blessings for so long. 32 teams enter into the World Cup... 31 leave with hearts broken.

Our hearts are broken. But the US team played bravely, honorably, and will no doubt improve on this inspiring World Cup run.

Onward!

Love,
apm

glenn beck is un-american and hates soccer

2010-06-26T00:05:00.002-04:00

Glenn Beck is a douchebag and a phony. I'm not stating anything new or shocking here. Many of you probably think the same thing or worse. If you do actually like him, though, I'd seriously question your judge of character, your morals, and your ethics. It's a safe guess that you're a douchbag yourself with horrible tastes in music, humor, and movies. You're also probably an illiterate, scared, racist, homophobic, superstitious, jingoistic, and deeply disturbed person... just like your hero Beck. You're a dung cretin.

Why am I going off on weirdo Glenn? I seriously don't give a shit about him. I've never seen his FOX show and the only time that I've really seen him in action was when I accidentally tuned into his old show on some other network years ago and he was babbling about his sky god and the "End of the World" with some oily televangelist. It grabbed my attention for five minutes and then he was forgotten. Who knew he would be such a malignant cultural presence a few years later?

But now he's grabbed my attention again. It seems that Glenn Beck is un-American. On the eve of the US national soccer team's last 16 match against Ghana in the World Cup, the leper messiah of crackpot television wants you to know that he hates soccer, doesn't think it has a place in this country, and insists that Americans don't like it either... despite repeated evidence to the contrary. He's probably praying for the US team to fail. That doesn't sound very patriotic, does it? Why does he hate this country so much? Sounds like something only a douchebag would do.

usa supporters react to landon donovan's last minute goal against algeria

2010-06-24T19:50:00.001-04:00

How can you not love this? And they say football isn't popular in the States. It's a niche market... and football is doing just fine. Just because you're not paying attention (no, not you... I'm talking about that other one over there) doesn't mean that football madness in this country isn't going on. You're just clueless. A friend of mine (who is otherwise intelligent) on Facebook yesterday actually equated the US win over Algeria and the subsequent reaction of supporters to how it feels to watch the NFL every year, as if non-tackleball football supporters don't know what it feels like to... win? Yeah, I'm trying to figure that one out, too, a day later. Also, I didn't realize that the NFL played in their own World Cup. Huh. How... utterly... amazing. You learn something new every day.

Lastly, if you haven't seen this yet... you must. Weezer's unofficial anthem for the US soccer team. Turn it to eleven!

landon the hero, heart attacks, and keeping it steady

2010-06-24T02:23:00.000-04:00

What an exhausting day yesterday was... wake up, warm up the ol' typing machine, get the Twitter ready (that sounds dirty, I realize), and turn the TV on for the first World Cup match of the day. And as the US v Algeria match stretched on, I suffered through heart attacks, vomiting, and delirium. Around the 80th minute, I thought about abandoning the match and taking a long walk. The US was going to lose the game, I thought. I had to start preparing myself for the grim reality of crushing disappointment.

I'm not the most realistic person, though. Part of me still believes that crazy shit can happen in a football match. Twice I thought of Andreas Iniesta's incredible destructo shot in the last minutes of the 2009 Champions League semi-final against Chelsea. The goal was a miracle from the football gods (I may be an atheist, but when it comes to football... I'm a believer) and sent Barcelona on their way to become champions of Europe. Sadly, the US national team is not Barcelona. So when I thought of Iniesta, I also thought what a fool I was to even entertain such masochistic thoughts.

But Landon Donovan obviously felt a calling to turn it on. Incredible moment. 2/3 of apm screamed, clapped, stomped, sent our cats racing through the room, our neighbors dialing 911... then the tears flowed... and the laughter. The US is through to the last 16 and will face Ghana on Saturday. The African team booted us out of the 2006 World Cup in Germany, but this ain't Germany, and we ain't the same squad we were back then either, mate.

Here's the legendary Donovan goal. Speaks for itself. I didn't tape this, just so you know. Some other dude did. What a professional he was, too. You can't hear him crying with joy, screaming, or cursing at all. Pro.

The Algerians have been screwed before in the World Cup, but at least they went out this time fair and square and with their heads held high. They're a good team. Not all of their players took the loss well, though.

Also, here's a link featuring a few after the game video interviews with US coach Bob Bradley and hero Landon Donovan. Pretty damn cool. If you're a US supporter and their emotion doesn't move you... I don't want to know you.

And on that note... sleep. More big matches await.

random thoughts about the swiss, spanish, and united states teams

2010-06-22T16:09:00.001-04:00

In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed - but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.

-- Harry Lime (Orson Welles) justifying his murderous amorality in The Third Man (1949).

The Swiss have given us much more than the cuckoo clock and being the punchline to one of the finest films of all time: actors Ursula Andress, Irene Jacob, Bruno Ganz; painters Henry Fuseli, HR Giger, Paul Klee; sculptor Alberto Giacometti; philosopher/writer Jean-Jacques Rosseau; psychiatrist CG Jung; revolutionary Jean-Paul Marat, just to name a few of the more notable individuals, all hail from Switzerland. Oh, and Celtic Frost. Aren't they Swiss? If not, they should be.

But when it comes to football, the Swiss are duds. Yes, they routinely make the World Cup (they've appeared nine times, reached the quarter-finals three times, and hosted it in 1954), though they play a sort of unimaginative, defensive-oriented football that only a countryman could love. Yet somehow... they managed to beat Spain in the first round of this year's World Cup.

The Swiss "style" is not the sort of football that aims to win the hearts and minds of neutrals or lovers of an attacking, progressive style. Current Swiss coach Ottmar Hitzfeld is not interested in dazzling the crowds with some new alchemically-laced hybrid of Brazillian tiki-taka-style with Northern European strength and power with the Dutch Totaalvoetbal ideal (which, to be honest, the Dutch don't really play any longer). He's simply interested in grinding out results by forsaking the width of the field for the claustrophobia of the inside, clipping the opposing team's ambition for flight on the wings, and only risking an offensive move on the counter-attack when there's nowhere else to go but forward. Only score when you've run out of all other options. It's a tactic that oddly, brilliantly works against teams like Spain, as the strict Swiss taught them in that first round 0-1 shocker. It's the Swiss version of catenaccio, the legendary and infamous Italian style of football obstinacy.

Hitzfeld, though, did not swipe his version of the defense-first tactic from the Italians' playbook... he got it from US men's national coach Bob Bradley. Specifically, studying videos of the 0-2 US victory over Spain in the 2009 Confederations Cup semi-finals, a shocking defeat for the current European Champions. In that match, Bradley--who has never been at the top of anyone's list of all-time great football tacticians--managed to stymie the living gods of fluid, creative, gyroscopic football with American grit and teeth-gnashing defense. But the US team not only managed to kill off the Spanish offense, they managed to score against them as well. This was no ordinary win. This was a shockwave of mammoth proportions. Bradley's boys did something that no other team had managed to figure out the previous summer during Euro 2008--they toppled the greatest football team on earth. Forget Dunga's squad of efficient though lackadaisical Brazilian hitmen, who are labeled "The Greatest Football Team" by every ignorant fan and announcer who wouldn't know brilliant tactics if they mainlined them. Luis Aragones's Spanish squad, a team deep with talent and ingenuity, proved to the skeptics that imaginative, devil-may-care football could work during large and important tournaments, contradicting all of the unbelievers who regurgitate like clockwork the old line that only defensive-minded, ugly football wins championships.

Aragones abandoned Spain for managing Turkish side Fenerbahce immediately after the Euro 2008 triumph, but new coach Vicente del Bosque has continued the team's breakneck style of precision passing, possession, and midfield majesty. The team has loads of talent, a deep bench, and is attractive to watch. It's art of a kind and puts the over-hyped Brazilians to shame. But since losing against the US and now the Swiss, supporters and admirers of the Spanish team are now faced with a horrifying reality--Euro 2008 might have been a one-time deal for this line-up. The team may have effectively broken the curse of not having won a major title since the 1964 Euro Championship, yet Spain is currently finding it difficult to tap into that wellspring of ingenuity and flashing inspiration that has served them well. Bradley and Hitzfeld have both shown that it is possible to flush out Spain's love of commandeering the sides of the pitch by boxing them in the middle, then making them pay on the counter-attack when Spain finally loses possession.

It's a good tactic, though one that isn't foolproof. As with playing a progressive, forward style of game, this stubborn anti-football also comes with risk. If the bus you park in front of the net isn't strong enough to take the onslaught of shots, if all eleven devils don't step up bravely and defend, defend, defend (anti-Total Football)--a team like Spain will eventually exhaust you, and eventually crush you. Your defense must be just as bold, aggressive, and dexterous as the opposing team's forward momentum.

After watching Spain win against Honduras yesterday (2-0), I'm still not sure what to think about them. I came into the tournament swaggering with confidence, just like them, sure that they would sweep on through the group stage like true champions. But that hasn't happened. Striker Fernando Torres can't connect with anything (such a petulant, brittle player, but lethal when the blood is up), the cerebral yet brave Iniesta is still not in the best form, and the team seems... well, uninspired. They look like all of the Spanish teams that have come into previous World Cups and underperformed. The US, on the other hand, are playing with passion and, despite some cautious openings that have cost them goals, real confidence. I'd love to see them not concede early goals... but the fact that they've bounced back with real American gusto gives me more than hope that they can beat Algeria decisively and make it out of the group.

Switzerland... hmmm. They're technically still in the Cup despite losing to an energetic though sloppy Chile yesterday (1-0), although in their match against Honduras they will be missing their midfielder Valon Behrami because of a red card. No matter. All the Swiss need to do to beat Honduras is park a bigger bus in front of the net and hope Spain lose to Chile. This Cup has been full of surprises. Hell, Greece could beat Argentina (the game I'm watching while I type this). It's nil-nil at the moment (68') and I don't really think it will happen... but you never know. Stranger things have happened. And as this tournament has shown us... anti-football is once again on the march.

tweeting the world cup

2010-06-19T12:10:00.000-04:00

Yep. We here at apm (well... me) is tweeting most all of the World Cup matches. Come on over, say hello, and watch the matches with us me. Read our scintillating sarcasm, trivia, and things you need to know.

http://twitter.com/aprettymove

the battle of algiers

2010-06-18T20:38:00.002-04:00

What a day. From heartbreak for German supporters to frustration and outrage for us Americans to depression and resignation for England's weary fans--it's been an exhausting and emotional day.

And we're only one week into this thing.

But if you're an Algerian supporter, you have a lot to feel good about. After a dismal performance in their first round match losing to Slovenia (0-1), Algeria bounced back in today's game with England, drawing with the football powerhouse 0-0. But unlike England's draw last week with the US which felt more positive, today's draw is a huge disappointment for the team and their supporters. England, equipped with their star players, looked ragged, lead-footed, and flaccid. Algeria, as the game stretched on, looked more capable and confident with each nifty one-touch pass and ability to strip England of the ball. There were a few minutes in the second half when Algeria seemed to lose focus, but for the most part the Desert Foxes, as they're nicknamed, looked good. They could give the US some problems.

How did this happen? How did a team that everyone thought England would stomp on not only hold their own, but actually look as if they belonged in this tournament.

The Battle of Algiers, my comrades. Yes, Italian director Gillo Pontecorvo's classic chronicle of political revolution and warfare was reportedly screened for the Algerian squad before today's match. It's an incredible film and if you've never seen it, apm highly recommends you check out the three disc Criterion set released a few years back. It just might inspire you to topple your own Goliath of choice. Or, at least, even the score.

Below are featured the film's trailer from the 2004 theatrical re-release and Ennio Morricone's memorable title track.

more misc. links

2010-06-18T14:07:00.001-04:00

Just some quick links before the Algeria v England match gets under way in a half-hour or so.

The first one is bit about how the Swiss beat Spain in that first round 0-1 match. Seems that Swiss manager Ottmar Hitzfeld has Bob Bradley's tactics to thank. Strange but true!

Second... work isn't getting done around the world. I could have told you that was going to happen.

And last but certainly not least... in preparation for their match against England, the Algerians watched Gillo Pontecorvo's brilliant The Battle of Algiers (1965). Brilliant. Let's hope they practiced their offensive "skills" as well.

diego forlan v el mundo

2010-06-18T00:43:00.003-04:00

"That thin, angular face with its burning eyes could never have belonged to the great race of compromisers..." -- a historian describing Savonarola, but he might as well be describing Diego Forlan(1)

My grey-haired mother, no football fan, has been converted to the Church of Forlan. Diego won her heart in his South African campaign with his quiet mastery, ruling, spiderlike, his web from that moveable place at its center, the center that travels with him wherever he goes. (It seemed funny to me that the announcers were frustrated with his insistence on taking all the free kicks when he ought really have been in goal to finish them. One day he will find himself a Tesla who will build for him a teleportation device so that he can do both.)

My mother is now prepared to follow Uruguay resolutely to the ends of the earth, or the ends of the World Cup, anyway. After watching those dogged Mexicans disassemble France today (France are what my brother's Portuguese parishioners call "heavy-shirts": big-leaguers, champions of old. They tell him that Mexico always does better against heavy-shirts than light-shirts like South Africa), she's rabid to watch her Diego disassemble them... which, of course, he might. I tried to warn her that a draw might benefit both teams and she should not be too disappointed if her new hero takes the duller strategy and locks down his goal. With any luck, though, we might see that warrior glint in the eye once more before his group stage is done.

(1) De La Bedoyere, Michael. the Meddlesome Friar and the Wayward Pope, Hanover House, NY 1958

misc. links

2010-06-17T14:13:00.000-04:00

While I wait for the France v Mexico match to start, I thought I'd post a few cool links of things that caught my attention today.

First... World Cup: Science Fiction. Stunning images from space of the countries participating in the world's favorite sporting event.

42 photos of the action on the pitch and of supporters around the world. Excellent stuff.

The Spanish media is not giving the national team any breaks after their shocking loss to Switzerland. As with Lisa, I'm not too concerned about Spain's performance. It happened. No need to panic... yet.

"Here’s a few numbers that the site EPL Talk put together from various sources on the tv audience that the England v USA game drew:

Around 17 million people in the United States watched the game at home — a number bigger than any of the first four games of the current NBA final.

The England match drew more US viewers than every game of the 2010 Stanley Cup hockey Final. The June 9 broadcast of the Stanley Cup Final on NBC was the most-watched NHL game in the United States in 36 years with 8.28 million viewers — about half of the amount that watched an opening round group match in the World Cup.

Overall, the first five matches of this year’s World Cup drew around double the audience that tuned in four years ago. How’s that for growth?"

That above quote comes from a great article on how well the World Cup and football in general is doing in the US. Pretty damn well. The sport is here... we're here... deal with it.

round one down

2010-06-16T22:03:00.000-04:00

Five days... 16 matches... 26 goals. I know people are bitching about the lack of goals, but I think things are going okay for the most part. Of course I'd love to see more goals. There have been plenty of scoring opportunities--did you see Spain in the second half, people?--and plenty of bad luck tagging along. Damn these capricious soccer gods. These are early days... it'll get furious soon enough.

Today, for instance, in the South African v Uruguay match, the first match of the second round. Uruguayan striker Diego Forlan finally came to life delivering two goals--one a spectacular, powerful long-range strike that rebelled against a deflection and still found net; the second one a lethal penalty kick--which magnificently commandeered the midfield like the intelligent veteran player he is. Bravo. I was sorry to see that Uruguay's victory came at the expense of the South Africans (the real underdogs of this tournament), but this is football and football is frequently heartbreaking. If your heart isn't breaking now, odds are that it will be by the end of this thing.

So I'm not worried. I bristle watching so many teams resort to defense first measures, but those sort of tactics are to be expected during big tournaments like this. I'll probably do a post at some point about the different styles on display here... for now, though, I just want to prepare for Thursday's matches. And try to put the Spain loss behind me. From elation to concern to worry to horror in the span of 90 minutes. You know... football.

you wouldn't call it fast and furious, exactly, but things are starting to move

2010-06-16T16:18:00.008-04:00

SPAIN V SWITZERLAND (0-1):

Oddly enough, I'm OK with this, mostly because I had the grandest time yet just watching the lovely passing between my Spanish fellows. Once the substitutes were in (Torres joining Villa up front with the very promising Jesus Navas from Sevilla out on the wing), things felt like they were tightening up, getting the right proportion, coming on balance. Not that Torres did much. As I was just telling Derek, as a Liverpool fan you learn that if you expect nothing from Torres, he'll surprise you with extremes of joy; otherwise, he'll put you in a scowling mood more often than not. If you can catch a glimpse of his face early on, it's a good indicator: if he's looking petulant, forget about it; look elsewhere for your goals. If he's smiling and confident, you may be in for some brilliance... but for God's sake, don't let him catch you EXPECTING anything from him or he might collapse under the pressure.

The other reason I'm OK with it is that, as my brother was just reminding me, the teams that shine in group stages are, more often than not, utterly different from the ones who wind up shining later on. How well I remember Spain cruising blithely through the group stage in 2006, like young boys at ebullient play, and how crushing the disappointment (of which, incidentally, I had been well warned by those more wizened in the ways of the World Cup, and which warnings I, in my naivete, happily disregarded) when they bottomed out.

ITALY V PARAGUAY (1-1):

This may rate as my second favorite match, as Paraguay bitch-slaps Italy from their customary group stage torpor with a stunner of an early goal. To their credit, the boys in blue met the challenge (albeit, I suspect, reluctantly), shaking off the last remnants of their pre-tournament gloom and hibernation (the gloom, I read somewhere, is customary for the Italians when defending a title, and that makes all manner of sense to me) and diving headlong into the fray to grasp that all-important equaliser.

DENMARK V HOLLAND (0-2):

Frustrating, maybe over-cerebral (am I giving them too much credit here?), certainly rather dull win by the Dutch. As a Liverpool fan, I was looking forward to it as Daniel Agger v Dirk Kuyt, and while Kuyt came away with a late, well-won goal and the commentators' praise for his continuing hard work (and, whatever you think of him, he is certainly one of the hardest working men on any given pitch), Agger emerged with a bad miskick and an own-goal bounced off the back of his head; not a good day for my favorite Dane.

The man of the match for me, however, was Simon Poulsen, the young Danish defender who came back from the infamy and horror of having bounced that own-goal off Agger's head to redeem himself with the most beautiful save I've yet seen in any match, a forceful bicycle kick off the line to keep out Afellay's zinger in the 88th minute.

BRAZIL V NORTH KOREA (2-1):

A slow start but an entertaining second half. I've been interested in the North Koreans since reading a piece in Time by a Liverpudlian who saw that match they played against Portugal in 1966 when they took a 3-0 lead only to be foiled by that paragon of scorers, the magical Eusebio, who led his team back to a 5-3 win. And they played well here. I wouldn't be utterly surprised if they were the other team to rise up to the knockout round from the ashes of the Group of Death. The Brazilians, like the Spanish and the Germans, look easy and fluid, not quite to standard yet, but who knows how much of that is getting used to this silly ball? or the astroturf? In any case, they look far more comfortable than they did in 2006 with Ronaldo lingering rather clumsily up-pitch and Ronaldinho never quite finding his samba. They look to be, as in days of yore, a joy to watch.

PORTUGAL V IVORY COAST (0-0):

The Ivorians look the better side, but one senses the Portuguese are playing it safe until they meet Brazil. Ronaldo had one of those near-gorgeous moments of his with an early screamer pounded from distance off the post, but after that it was yawns all around. Funny: I hate that guy, that Ronaldo guy, but I do love to watch him play.

...AND, LASTLY, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I GIVE YOU THE JABULANI:

OK, OK, we've had enough grousing about the ball... except that I haven't got my two cents in yet. Are we all sick of watching the ball fly over the bar every third minute? Adidas says (see above link) that the point is the difference in playing at higher elevation, not the ball at all. It's also stated, interestingly enough, that the ball has had preparatory use in France, Argentina and Germany. Smart lads. You'd think everyone else might've got in on a piece of that action as well.

My boyfriend's theory is that the thing's got no spin. I wonder if future generations will look back on the Jabulani Kerfuffle and laugh at the old geezers who couldn't keep the ball down; the difference being, of course, that they'll have been raised with it. Anyway, I expect that from the Round of 16 forward everyone should have found sufficient familiarity with the Official Villain of the Tournament that we might have one or two free kicks that don't wind up in the rafters. Here's hoping.

my teutonic ephiphany

2010-06-14T08:37:00.004-04:00

We here at apm have oft noted amongst ourselves a rather (to us) odd-seeming phenomenon among American football novices: they turn into Germany supporters. As someone who's always been attracted to the elegant passing game and grace of La Liga and Spain and the 2006 Argentina squad, this has been a bit of a mystery to me. People whose acquaintance with the country extends about as far as looking up a wiener schnitzel recipe on the internet once suddenly discover Teutonic roots in their family tree. (And we Americans, as is often noted, are very much into our individual national origins.)

But it suddenly occurred to me today while watching the German team rout poor Australia yesterday: Germany plays the way Americans imagine the US squad would play if we were actually really good. Powerful, offensive, creative, ruthless, efficient.

I'm normally not a fan of the German team myself (and can never forgive their ugly dismantling of beautiful Argentina in '06--that's the kind of heartbreak that leaves you with baggage that hardens your heart in any future relationships with other national teams), but in a tournament that has thus far been goal-poor, I did find their clean, methodical strikes and steady accumulation of goals pretty exciting to behold.

photos from usa v england match (athens, ga & berlin)

2010-06-13T23:28:00.030-04:00

I didn't know what to expect from my new home Athens, Georgia during World Cup. American tackleball is huge here... a religion... and something taken very seriously. So I figured only a few places would be showing matches. Much to my surprise there are quite a few pubs, restaurants, and cafes doing so. Places were generally packed, which made me very happy. If you don't think football is popular in the States, you're simply not paying attention or you're being intentionally obstinate.

Here are a few of photos from The Globe, one of my favorite pubs here in town, taken before the match. The staff seemed a bit overwhelmed... and way too slow... but overall it was just cool to see so many people packed in wanting to root on the US squad. The upstairs was packed, as well as downstairs. A few people wandered around wearing English kits, including a little tyke who broke into tears during half time just minutes after English keeper Robert Green committed the blunder of the series so far. Cheer up, kid. Being an England supporter, you'll have a lifetime of disappointment and punishment to look forward to.

And these two bottom photos are taken by my friend M in Berlin who watched the US v England match in the Mitte district at a little outdoor pub. Pretty cool.

germany v australia: it's getting cold in this room

2010-06-13T22:49:00.005-04:00

A few things occurred to me early on in the match: one is that now Michael Ballack and Jens Lehmann are gone, the German squad is not nearly as loathesome as it used to be. It's difficult to dislike a coach like Loew, a man who looks like he's carrying the weight of the world on his haggard shoulders, a man who obviously cares more than is healthy. The players, although still tall and humorless like frozen ents, did not immediately repel me, not until those spine-chilling victory yells began. The other thing that occurred to me, and I shiver as I speak it, is that Germany is going to win this damned World Cup.

Granted, the night is young. I have not yet seen the form of many strong contenders: Spain, Italy, Brazil, Portugal. Messi might still manifest some beautiful, chaotic miracle for that beautiful, shambolic Argentine side. That said, I was completely stunned at the confidence and cohesion of this teutonic team. They have a perfect play, and they keep at it, over and over: they begin by passing the ball around at the back in a leisurely fashion until the Aussies are lured out of their caution and dart forward to challenge. Then the ball is threaded through the middle and someone makes a sudden and lightning-fast run while someone else makes a parallel run, so that when the two reach the area, defenders trailing at their heels, the first runner passes to the second runner and one or the other has a terrifyingly good chance at goal. Over and over they lured the Aussies out and with their passing skills moved among them silent and untouched; over and over came the sudden charge on the goal-mouth. Over and over the Australians fought bravely to regroup, and Schwarzer in goal seemed sometimes downright unnerved.

Everyone has a favorite underdog. Mine is Australia. There's not a human in the world who thought the Socceroos would beat Germany, but they're still a burly, physical side, not easily outmuscled. They were far too respectful, though, for the first bit, too intimidated, and they have nowhere near the ease and surety in one-touch passing that they'd need to get past a team of this quality. Around the half-hour mark, my boys began to get mad and more aggressive; not downright Croatian, but more physical, less cautious, and it boded well. When it came time for Tim Cahill's red card, which I thought was harsh but by no means scandalous, they coalesced at last. You have to a love a team that doesn't fold, that does the OPPOSITE of folding. You throw them a piece of disaster, they pull together and fight harder. I do not give them up yet; this is their hardest match in group stages by far.

And I have to give credit to the ref, who gave not one but TWO yellows to diving Germans. It's a bold move, a card like that; both calls were spot-on correct, he did not hesitate, and I was very grateful for it. Especially the one toward the end. You're winning 4-nil over a side that's a man down, and you're pulling a blatant dive? Man, how low is that?

world cup 2010: usa v england 1-1

2010-06-13T12:38:00.000-04:00

It shouldn't have happened at all. Football, though, is filled with impossible imaginings, especially during World Cup. Having trailed 1-0 since the 4th minute when Steven Gerrard delivered a beauty of a shot past US keeper Tim Howard, the Yanks nevertheless kept their composure for much of the first half, biding their time until an advantageous opening was conjured. Clint Dempsey, the rough-hewn yet dangerous US forward, eventually stepped up in the 40th minute with a bold yet speculative strike at best, lacking that special spark of invention. It shouldn't have happened at all. Not much power or finesse fueled it... an easy save for England keeper Robert Green to make.

But Green bumbled it--the football gods deciding that it was time to make an example of the West Ham keeper, reminding us all that the ball is capricious as much as it is functional. 1-1.

England pressured Howard plenty in the second half. Heskey, Lampard, and Johnson all tested Howard--arguably the US's best player--but no opening could be exploited. Rooney, who had been invisible for most of the game, reasserted his vocation to scoring, though the ball remained unconvinced. And in the end, both teams walked away with a point each. For the US, it was a fair result. Something to work off of and the players' confidence should remain high. For England, it must feel more like a loss, a bitter gob of spittle at the bottom of the pint glass.

diego forlan: there's a berserker lurking in there, you mark my words

2010-06-12T12:26:00.009-04:00

So we all learned something new about the offside rule from Mexico v South Africa! Well, I did, anyway. Now that you SAY it, it seems so obvious...

The most compelling part of the opening day for me was not Tshabalala's splendid goal, or even our lovely Rafa's surly, practical response (he's a great one, Marquez, for the snarling, no-nonsense equaliser, sometimes without celebration, although he did that thumbsucking thing this time, didn't he? which seems to be off-putting to a lot of us yanks for some reason). The match lacked the pace and drive I wanted. Bafana Bafana showed some hunger, but why are El Tri so easily discouraged? Why don't they ATTACK? I kept thinking in the second half. Is it possible they were pouting?

No, the really intriguing part of the day for me was Uruguay v France, which I had to tape (WHY do they make me go to WORK?) and watch late last night, while I was hallucinatory from lack of sleep. I'm the spitting, hissing enemy of catenaccio as much as the next guy, that ugly lockdown strategy that results in 90 minutes of boredom and frustration and very little football. At first that looked to be the way of it, with Uruguay stoppered at the back with a massive defensive plug and France careening around the edges trying to find a way in. What gave it life (for me... it may have been all sleepless hallucination, I admit that) and fluidity was that two-man danger-squad up front, Forlan and Suarez. I never got bored. If I hadn't known the outcome already (my supervisor, --cruel, cruel man,-- announced it to me while I was stuck football-less at my computer), I'd have thought at every moment that Forlan was going to score.

I've been aware of him, of course, since I started following Barca five years ago. He was with Villarreal then, and his name comes up a lot now he's with Atletico (as it does when you score more goals in a season than anyone but Lio Messi and maybe one other guy in the whole world), but I think this is the first time I ever really watched him, and he seemed to me like a man possessed. Like he's going to haul Uruguay to that trophy single-handed if he has to. There's something almost scary in that steely gaze; it puts me in mind of Joan of Arc. How she really must have looked, I mean, not soft and misty-eyed like they make her in movies. Hard, steely, obsessed, fanatical: these things come in handier than soft and misty-eyed when you're going into battle, and I suspect Forlan is a man on a mission. I think villages might get burned in the wake of his fanaticism, old stalwart religions might fall and new, terrible ones rise. I'm keeping an eye on this one from now on.

As for France, how on earth do they do it? They swan around and swan around and don't look very interesting and then suddenly they're in the final. Charmed lives. Maybe it's all the red wine, or possibly the prostitutes. Keeps you young and beloved of decadent gods.

where to watch the World Cup in Athens, Georgia: update 1

2010-06-12T10:35:00.006-04:00

We've had some great feedback in comments and email on other places in town to watch the World Cup and are happy to report there are more of us soccerheads than we thought out there in Athens. Here's what we've learned so far. Original post on where to watch the World Cup in Athens, Georgia is here.

First of all, @UrbanHaiku has dedicated an entire blog to where to watch the World Cup in the Classic City. She's got some great suggestions I didn't know about and is updating lots, so be sure to bookmark it to keep up.

Normal Bar, on the corner of Prince and Oglethorpe, is opening early for at least the afternoon games. This new bar is an awesome, friendly little neighborhood place. The staff is super and the inside is gorgeous and they have this great-sounding summer cocktail I'm getting the next time we're there which includes Pimm's and ginger and lemon and other refreshing summery things.

From the comments, Agua Linda on Prince was open for the 9.30 Mexico match, and Anonymous reports about 17 or so people, staff and customers, turning up. We'll definitely be checking in here for a Mexico match at some point. Also, Las Conchitas, the Peruvian restaurant next door, is also believed to be showing games. (That place never seems busy, but I had lunch there once and my food was really good.)

Farm 255 is bringing a huge TV screen into the bar for the viewings and @UrbanHaiku reports that the Globe has brought in a TV for the downstairs bar.

I'm so pleased and pleasantly surprised to see many local places joining in the party with the rest of the world!

and so it begins...

2010-06-11T19:43:00.000-04:00

We here at apm--like most of you, I imagine--couldn't wait for the 2010 World Cup in South Africa to start. The opening ceremonies got things started with the requisite flourish and... well, you know, the usual artistic choices that accompany these sorts of things: gorgeous dancers, brilliant musicians, conceptual celebrations of team and country, the honorable Archbishop Desmond Tutu getting his groove on, a giant dung beetle kicking at a soccer ball, and R. Kelly. Something for everyone.

And then there were the games. South Africa doesn't have the best squad in the world--although they did perform well at last year's Confederations Cup in South Africa--but they held their own against a Mexican side that should have done... oh... so... much better. The first half was mostly in El Tri's favor, though the poor finishing by former Barcelona player Gio dos Santos and former West Ham jobber Guillermo Franco was aggravating for the team's supporters. South Africa simply looked out-classed. But come the second half things turned around with a fabulous rocket of a goal from South Africa's Siphiwe Tshabalala (we'll all be able to spell his name fast by the end of the tournament, you just wait) in the 55' minute, sending the Mexican players into a tailspin. Rafa Marquez evened things up in the 79' minute, but El Tri was unable to do anything other than give South Africa more space, options, and ultimately a couple of wonderful chances at winning the match. But it wasn't meant to be and the soccer gods bestowed upon the teams a fair draw. Decent, relatively exciting football to be sure.

The next match, between Uruguay and the ~~Republic of Ireland~~... sorry, France... was a whole other beast. I don't know much about Uruguay other than that they've won the World Cup twice before--at the first tournament in 1930 and again in 1950--and they feature one of my favorite players, Diego Forlan. I had high expectations for this one, but other than a few moments of inspiration here and there, it was mostly a game for lovers of defense and clogged-arterial football. Not my thing. It was skillful, tactical football on Uruguay's part, and the way they stymied France was something to behold--a squad that failed to show any enthusiasm for playing except for when Thierry Henry made his appearance in the late second half. But it was dull, frustrating play as well. A midday sedative of the worst kind for anyone craving a good dose of progressive, creative football. In the end, it was 0-0. Uruguay got a point for parking the bus in front of goal and France received one for their public shame. Now, if only Forlan could create some magic with his finishing... showing the rest of the world who don't watch his brilliance every week in La Liga why he matters.

But it's just the beginning. The tournament is long and there are always duds like the latter match. There will be a couple more... and games that remind us why we love this sport in the first place. I have a feeling the real good stuff is about to get rolling tomorrow. A dung beetle promised me.

follow apm on twitter during world cup 2010

2010-06-11T00:03:00.000-04:00

Hunkered in our living room(s) or drinking at inappropriate times in our local pub(s)... apm will be watching and blogging about every World Cup game.

We'll also be Tweeting! And if you want to follow us there while we vent our spleen or wax poetically about some player or team who defies the script of the tournament... we'd love to have you aboard.

http://twitter.com/aprettymove

where to watch the World Cup in Athens, Georgia

2010-06-10T21:15:00.004-04:00

I did this in 2006 for Portland, so here's another round for Athens. That's Georgia, not Greece.

Portland is a football-mad city--more than 10,000 people turned up for the Italy v. France 2006 final shown on a giant screen downtown in Pioneer Square. I confess that 2/3 of us have been more than a little worried that we'd spend the month watching every single match alone in our living room. That's better than nothing, of course, but half the fun of the World Cup is the camaraderie, the party atmosphere. Slinking out of your house at 9 am to sip Guinness with other football-loving commie reprobates and furriners. In the US, the love of soccer is like a secret handshake. An instant icebreaker. One of my Portland Timbers Army comrades with a respectable identity in the real world but known in local footie circles as Bickle once described it more or less thusly: you like football, you are my friend, and it's true.

Anyway, we've identified a few local places so far that have definitely caught World Cup fever, and we'll be updating this list throughout the tournament. We'll also visit as many of these fine establishments as possible, just as we did back in Portland in 2006, and provide you with reviews.

Also, if you are local, and you love footie, I urge you to get out and try to support as many of these places as possible, particularly the ones that are opening early and going out of their way to promote themselves as World Cup venues. It's not easy being a soccer fan in the US; it's even harder to be a football fan in the American-football-mad South. Let's show them that fans of the "other" kind of football are here to stay.

Here's what we have for you so far:

Transmetropolitan -- No website, but this well-regarded pizza joint at 145 E. Clayton Street in the heart of downtown has been advertising in Flagpole that they will open at 7 am throughout the tournament, providing a special brunch menu, showing matches on seven giant TVs, and running a beer special--$2 pints of Guinness. We'll be taking in the England v. USA match there on Saturday and I'm so excited I'm ready to start camping out in the sidewalk in front right now. Fortunately, that probably won't be necessary.

Casa Mia Tapas -- Also right downtown, 269 N. Hull St. (stumble up to the Manhattan afterward to drown your sorrows if your side loses badly). Also another restaurant I haven't gotten round to trying yet, and want to, so we'll be checking it out soon too. There's nothing on their website about it, but they tweet that they'll be up early for the game tomorrow morning and running $2.50 specials on all beers.

Farm 255 -- Also downtown. 255 West Washington St. Farm 255 just posted (literally, as I'm writing this) to their facebook account that the Farm Cart in all its glorious goodness will be open at 10 a.m. and 2 p.m. with World Cup specials including $2 PBR and Highlife Tallboys. I'm assuming you'll be able to get your food and drink at the cart and watch the TVs at the bar inside? Anyway, I've eaten at both the restaurant and the cart and the food is phenomenal and it's a great space inside; we'll definitely be hitting this spot too.

The Globe -- Pretty sure they're showing games at the upstairs bar. Love this bar on the corner of Clayton and Lumpkin beyond reason as it's barely changed since my university days here (added food and an upstairs bar). Will confirm and provide more details later.

The Royal Peasant -- 1675 Lumpkin Street. Despite their hopelessly outdated footie calendar, this British-style Five Points pub is also a pretty safe bet, as they promote themselves as a place to watch the Premiership and I notice their TVs are always tuned to football when I stop off at the liquor store next door (what?). This is another place I've been wanting to make it to and haven't -- Hillary Brown, food critic at Flagpole, raved about their food not long after they opened.

Agua Linda Tacqueria -- This picture, worth at least 100 words if not 1000, came via Athens Feed's twitter account (worth following if you're local), so clearly that's another spot. Not sure what their hours will be. That's the Atlanta Highway location (I can't find the address), not the one on Prince Avenue. We won't be visiting this one for a review as we are dirty commies without a car and I am kind of allergic to the Atlanta Highway, but it will probably be an especially fun spot for Mexico games.

More to come!

anxious and confident... waiting for the world cup

2010-06-09T17:40:00.000-04:00

With less than two days to go before the 2010 World Cup in South Africa gets rolling, it's probably safe to say that I'm not the only football fan out there anxiously surfing the net reading blog posts, news stories, and tweets regarding the tournament. Also, I'm glued to the television watching old World Cup matches on ESPN Classic... trying to manage to get some work done in the process as well. Though honestly, it's been more of the former than the latter.

Of course, once the tournament ends in a month, I'll be relieved, exhausted, and anxious to forget about loyalties to country for a welcome return to league play. As Lisa posted last week, despite my anxiousness for it to begin and my sometimes unfortunate romance of the game and the tournament... the World Cup is rarely pleasurable, hardly comforting in the manner that being hopelessly in love should be. It's agony, pain, and masochism of the highest order. What that says about my personality... well, I'll leave it at that.

But unlike previous years, I actually have confident, though cautious, optimism for the US team. Still not a fan of the lumbering defensive-minded hybrid of catenaccio that coach Bob Bradley favors, but we look fit, solid, and confident. Not overly-confident, mind you, like Ingerland, bloody Ingerland. Confident in a good way. So I have high hopes that we'll beat England on Saturday. The World Cup rarely goes as predicted, though, so take my wish-fulfillment with plentiful salt, lime, and the tequila of your choice.

The last time we played England (I believe) was on May 28, 2008 at Wembley in London. Two of us had just returned from three months in Spain and had plans to go see the game live... but we ended up watching the match at a pub down from our B&B instead... in a room full of English supporters. We were roundly humiliated, as was the American team who lost 2-0 against a slovenly English squad.

Last year's US appearance at the Confederations Cup in South Africa was a big improvement and I found myself falling for our scrappy Yanks in a way that I've never felt before. Not only did the US look like they could beat Brazil in the final, the guys seemed to feel it as well. This wasn't a fluke, this was the fulfillment of years of promise. The US lost the final 3-2, but it was a line in the sand for me. We weren't going back, we weren't going to return to the dark days of the 2006 World Cup embarrassment.

We've done well in the big tournament before. The 2002 World Cup for instance. But our brutal assault at the feet of the Czechs in 2006 left some long-lasting bruises on many fans and will hopefully remain merely an aberration in the overall history of the national team. Probably not, I know, but I'm trying to be optimistic these days. Hopeful.

I know we can beat England. They don't have any fear... but that's just a sad reminder of their arrogance, naivete, and penchant for self-delusion. Crazy island dwellers, you know. I don't for a second think we can win the whole thing, but I do know we can take down Ingerland. And that's all that matters at this point. One game at a time....

The Boys From Little Mexico

2010-06-08T10:57:00.007-04:00

So how's everyone doing in the last breathless run-up to World Cup? Checking out some of those friendlies? Obsessively filling out wall charts, making predictions? Chewing your own arm off in crazed anticipation?

One of the ways we here at a pretty move have been coping is by acquiring a stash of footie books to keep us going before, during, and in the aftermath of World Cup 2010. We've got some old classics and some great new reads, and we'll be writing about some of them in the coming months. But in the meantime I wanted to give readers a heads-up on a new book we'll be talking more about next month after World Cup, The Boys From Little Mexico:A Season Chasing the American Dream.

This may be of particular interest to Portlanders--the story of the mostly-Latino soccer squad at Woodburn High School. Like some of the best footie books, it looks to be one which is about so much more than the game itself--not that the game isn't enough, but it also acts as such a great lens for everything from politics to sociology and beyond. And in the wake of the Arizona hullabaloo, this is a book about the real America--you know, the one that's full of immigrants, the America that we all came from (unless you are of indigenous descent).

We'll be featuring an interview with writer Steve Wilson in July, but in the meantime, pick it up! After all, what else are you gonna do with yourself in between matches for the those 31 days?

the agony and the... well, the even more agonizing

2010-06-02T14:41:00.016-04:00

Some months back over Indian food, I suppose it would've been just after Beckham's big injury, my brother asked about Portugal v England in 2006, asked if it was true that Becks had wept when he was sidelined.
Yes, I said, he'd pulled a Gaza act, but I'd suspected at the time that he knew the Lions were going to be humiliated and was exaggerating his wound so he wouldn't have to be part of it.
There was a silence while my brother looked at me with his eyebrows raised. "Is that a little cynical?"
"In my defense," I said, "you have to remember that by that time in the World Cup I was completely insane."

Which is utterly and absolutely true. Not just neurotic, but bughouse mad. I'd quit my job so I had nothing to ground me into the earth during the month of footballing hysteria. I had no cable so I spent the bulk of my days up at dawn crawling into dark, smoky pubs where I drank gallons of bad coffee and ate (when I had to) terrible, greasy food. Many of these places had no windows. The only reason I knew it was summer was because after two or four or six hours I would have to stumble outside, snarling and vampire-pale, and make my way to a computer where I could unload into words on this very blog all the emotions of the day.

And the emotions were high and many. At the time I was still newly in love with football (newly enough that when I heard the Bill Shankly quote about football being far more important than life and death I thought yes, yes, that's exactly it) and had not grown a skin thick enough to separate myself from whatever absurdities were occurring on-pitch in Germany. When my teams were knocked out (all five of them) I experienced it as heartbreak as true as any I've felt at the hand of man. Successful cheating and diving left me breathless and gasping from the lack of justice in the world, and over-aggressive fouls I experienced as pure evil. In short, I had no perspective.

I have, naturally, been reviewing the events of that last World Cup in my head, and it seems to me, even over the distance of the years, that for every high and soaring moment I experienced there were nine or ten truly excruciating ones. Let's take a little trip down memory lane, shall we?

May as well start with Portugal v England, and get it over with: the stomp, the wink, and that horrible penalty shoot-out. The awful, gut-twisting humiliation when Jamie Carragher took his shot too soon and had to do it over. And Cristiano Ronaldo kissing the ball before he kicked it: was there anyone in the English-speaking world who didn't want to fire-bomb Ronaldo's house after that match? Lucky for him I'm a democrat and have no real training in weaponry.

Speaking of Portugal, travel with me now to Portugal v Holland. I remember sitting in the Marathon, I think it was, with Lynda, and I'd been kind of talking up Portugal as an interesting team... And then for the next two hours it was like watching through one-way glass at a nursery school while kindergartners tore into each other during some ferocious Romper Room. How many red cards were there? I think each team had maybe nine players each left on the pitch, keepers included, at match end. Mark Figo head-butted Mark Van Bommel, Deco PICKED UP THE BALL during play while arguing with a Dutchman... It was mass chaos, one vast embarrassment. We were exhausted afterwards, and I've never yet shaken my mistrust of either Portuguese OR Dutch footballers since.

France v Spain was a heartbreak for me, as La Furia Roja is the great love of my life. In it, Carles Puyol was accused of fouling Thierry Henry, leading to a French penalty and goal and giving France the edge they needed. Puyol came at him from an awkward angle, but Henry went down clutching his head (which Puyol had not touched) and until Puyol stands here and tells me otherwise I will always think of it as a successful dive. The interesting thing is that a month or so previous, following Barca's defeat of Arsenal during the 2006 Champions League Final, Henry (then of Arsenal) had been vociferous in the press about Barca's (Puyol's team) propensities for diving. "Next time I'll learn to dive maybe," he said, "but I'm not a woman." Guess he learned to dive, possibly becoming a woman at the same time.

These are just a few of many. Remember Brian McBride bloodied and dazed from the elbow of Daniele De Rossi? Remember Croatia v Australia, during which the Croatians were so very savage and unruly that poor Graham Poll lost track of his cards and gave one fellow three yellows? Remember the sickening crunch of Michael Owens' knee in the first minutes of England v Sweden?

Then there are two memories that I will never forgive. First, you have not known hell until you've sat in a college bar watching Germany take out the Argentine keeper with a knee to the ribs then win in penalties while frat boys (why do Americans who know crap about football always root for Germany?) roar with vicious Schadenfreude all around you. The other, the worst, was when Fabio Grosso put an end to Australia's hard-won and bravely-fought hopes by diving across Lucas Neill's prone body in the area and drawing the penalty. Although I later forgave the bulk of the Italian team during their rather wonderful humiliation of Germany (my enemy's enemy is my friend), Grosso will know my wrath until the day he dies and beyond.

That was the bulk of the bad. But there was also good.

I remember a miracle corner by Beckham that bent around into the net... was that England v Ecuador? Gorgeous. There was Argentina v Serbia-Montenegro, in which La Albiceleste showed us all what a beautiful passing game looks like. There was that lovely run by Tomas Rosicky against the U.S., and the best, most joyful, buoyant run ever by Carles Puyol, of all people, all the way down the pitch with the Ukrainians helpless at his heels, then a tap over to Torres who finished: perhaps the most playful, lovely goal of the tournament.

And that's pretty much it. When I try to think of more beautiful things, instead I think of more awful ones: Peter Crouch climbing up the hair of Trinidad's Brent Sancho to head in his goal, for instance. Sometimes it's downright embarrassing to be an anglophile in public.

I know you're thinking I left a bad point out: that OTHER head-butt, the one that got so much attention. I omit it on purpose, because I don't consider it a low point of the tournament. Quite the opposite. Consider: think what a long, excruciating match that final was. Neither side were playing in a scintillating fashion. It dragged on and on, as so many of the matches had, into penalties. Had Materazzi not goaded Zidane into action, had Zidane held his temper, I suspect we'd have all gone home feeling itchy and dissatisfied at the anticlimax of it all, and perhaps felt depressed and enervated for several days. As it was, thanks to Zizou, the 2006 World Cup went out with a bang, and I thank the football gods for it.

Anyway, it was Materazzi. Were he standing here right now, I'd head-butt him just for standing here being Materazzi. You see how violent I am already? And World Cup 2010 is still more than a week away.

ouch!

2010-06-01T10:52:00.001-04:00

Ouch.

Though I think that Arsenal player Theo Walcott was a ridiculous choice to be named to the England World Cup squad four years ago (the main reason being he was too young, too inexperienced) it seemed realistic to think that England manager Fabio Capello would name him to the 2010 squad. Walcott has matured over the last four years and shows great promise. Capello obviously thought so too, calling him up to play for his country for qualification... but alas, not good enough to name to the final 23.

More later....

countdown to euphoria... anxiety

2010-05-28T12:07:00.000-04:00

In exactly two weeks the 2010 World Cup will begin in South Africa. For soccerheads, Christmas comes only once every four years. But it lasts a month.

These two weeks are going to feel interminable, though. It can't come fast enough. The trick is to stay busy until kick-off... not to give into the anxiety. That will come soon enough once the tournament begins.

So this morning, while trying to keep my mind off the fact that I have to wait yet another two weeks before the start of the matches, I came across these cool World Cup murals done by the am i collective based out of Cape Town, who were hired by Portland, Oregon ad agency Wieden + Kennedy through ESPN. The 32 murals, inspired by wonderfully cheesy Ghanaian movie posters from the 1980s, symbolically show the respective warriors of the pitch ready to take the ultimate crown of the only game that matters. Vanity Fair magazine also did a piece on it and you can see more of the murals here.

ja! ja! ja!

2010-05-28T00:03:00.002-04:00

Now where's my scotch?

bradley's boys at the white house

2010-05-27T20:55:00.000-04:00

Yesterday coach Bob Bradley announced his 23-man World Cup squad live on ESPN--generating plenty of controversy at the same time--and earlier today Bradley and the squad were guests at the White House. President Obama, former President Clinton (who is a US Bid Committee Honorary Chairman), and Vice President and all-around shit disturber Joe Biden met with the team and... well, it bodes well for the sport in this country, I think. You keep comin' a long way, baby.

one born every minute

2010-05-26T23:34:00.005-04:00

asshole

Main Entry: ass hole
Pronunciation: \'as-,(h)ōl/
Function: noun
Date: 14th century
1 usually vulgar : Anus
2 a usually vulgar : a stupid, incompetent, or detestable person b usually vulgar : the worst place--used in phrases like asshole of the world

-- Merriam-Webster

In William S. Burroughs's classic novel Naked Lunch, there is a scene, a routine really, about a man who taught his asshole to talk. It's brilliantly funny, upsetting, and acidic in that Burroughs way. Monty Python on smack. For years I thought the piece was nothing more than fiction. Yes, the world is full of strange, unbelievable wonders. But surely this was just Burroughs riffing off of some make-believe routine he used to do for friends.

I was wrong.

A man named Barney Ronay has mastered the trick. Unbelievable indeed!

And after you read about that incredible piece of human ingenuity, you can read a measured and thoughtful reply.

one door closes...

2010-05-26T16:36:00.002-04:00

Looks like Real Madrid have axed Manuel Pellegrini as manager of the team. Madrid performed well last season in La Liga and gave the reigning champs Barcelona trouble throughout the year. But when "The Special One" makes it clear that he would love to manage the team... not to mention stick another shiv in the hearts of Barça and their supporters...you don't deny him. No one puts José Mourinho in a corner! No one!

apm on twitter

2010-05-26T16:01:00.001-04:00

Oooh... fancy. Although we're pretty good with the typewriter/computer thingy, we're not the most tech-savvy. We're stubborn. Somehow apm managed to get a twitter account started up. I know, I know, baby steps. What next? A facebook page?

So if you're at all interested... follow us over at that place where everyone talks about eating a sandwich and sexting and all those other things the kids are doing.

http://twitter.com/aprettymove

materazzi and mourinho: a tearful farewell

2010-05-26T14:23:00.005-04:00

Whoa. Does this mean the hearts of Jose Mourinho and Marco Materazzi aren't two sizes too small? This may force me to recalibrate my entire worldview.

Expect to hear word of Mourinho's appointment as Real Madrid manager any day now, natch.

2010-05-25T23:35:00.001-04:00

We are coming back... just in time for the 2010 World Cup. Take it as something to look forward to or just another thing to make you angry. But it's gonna happen.

Hope to see you here too.

Cheers,
the apm gang

Racing Santander v. Barcelona

2009-09-22T18:59:00.001-04:00

Three goals in seven minutes from three different players. And by the 27th minute of the first half, it wouldn’t have been arrogant to consider the game over. I’m surprised that Racing Santander didn’t just turn out the lights in the stadium during half-time so that their shell-shocked supporters could split to feed their sorrows with plentiful plates of boquerones and mugs of Estrella Galacia. Surrender now before things got even worse and Barcelona really started getting their groove on.

But this is football. Teams, especially good and respectable teams like Racing, don’t give in even when they’re obviously outclassed by the flashier more powerful Barça. Still, it’s got to be rough for their fans. I don’t think anyone would have blamed them if they’d ditched their team and headed for the exits.

But this is football and supporters don’t do that. Ever. Thankfully, Óscar Serrano gave the home fans something to cheer about in the 72nd minute when he slipped the ball through defender Rafa Marquez’s feet and scored one past keeper Victor Valdes who seriously didn’t have much to do before then.

It’s been a good four weeks of La Liga and it’s difficult to imagine but Barça look even stronger than they did last season. I wasn’t sure how Ibrahimovic was going to fit into the squad—he seemed selfish and petulant to me while playing at Inter and for the Swedish national team—but his kinetic repartee with Messi, keen vision, and physical strength up front is excellent and he’s fun to watch. He’s also more dependable than either Eto’o or Henry when it comes to finishing.

I know it’s early still, but I think Barça are realistically on their way toward another brilliant season.

Racing Santander 1, Barcelona 4.

Bring Me the Head of Diego Maradona

2009-09-10T16:26:00.004-04:00

One of the great heartbreaks of my soccer-watching life was watching Argentina lose against Germany in the quarter finals of the 2006 World Cup. But I knew that with so many great players in the squad--Messi, Riquelme, Crespo, Aimar, Cambiasso, Coloccini, Tevez, Mascherano, Zanetti, Milito, Heinze, and others--that they'd arrive in South Africa ready to make things right. Unfortunately, many of the above players (Riquelme, Crespo, Aimar, Cambiasso, Coloccini) are no longer on the team for various reasons. Messi, so brilliant with Barcelona, is played as a striker instead of the gadfly forward Pep utilizes, and Tevez and Palermo (Palermo!) are disappointing to say the least.

So what's it going to take for the once-great player to step down from managing the Argentinian national squad? With the team currently in fifth place in their World Cup qualifying group and at risk of not making it into the tournament next summer, is Maradona so untouchable that he can't be fired? Is he so arrogant that he can't see that the best thing for the team, for his country, is to walk away after last night's defeat against Paraguay?

Don't answer the last question. I should know better than to ask it.

a few thoughts on the confederations cup, part four (and the end): New Zealand and Iraq

2009-07-01T10:08:00.004-04:00

And now we come to the two teams I saw the least of in this tournament. (It was a scheduling issue, not deliberate avoidance!)

New Zealand. You know, as a sometime-supporter of the US team and an always-supporter of the Portland Timbers, I have an inkling of what it felt like to be a New Zealand fan in this tournament. These guys' reward for winning the OFC Cup (Oceanic Football Confederation) was to be sent to South Africa, where they were pummelled by Spain (5-0), kicked for good measure by South Africa (2-0), and hung on screaming by their fingernails for their most respectable showing against Iraq (0-0). They never looked like a strong squad, and aren't terribly likely to turn up in the World Cup given the difficulties of qualifying from Oceania (the generous .5 spot for a team from the region means a 3rd place Asian team must be beaten to make it in), although they did make it in back in 1982, and stranger things have happened.

Iraq. You always want Iraq to do well because, well, it just sorta seems like the average Iraqi soccer fan has enough angst in their life these days without the footie sucking as well, you know? And their success story at the 2007 Asian Cup won everyone's hearts, unless you possessed one of Grinch-sized proportions. But the team has some strikes against it, not the least of which is their inability to play home games on their own soil. They're already out of the running for next year's World Cup, having fallen third place to Australia and Qatar in an earlier group round. And like New Zealand, they exited the Confederations Cup without having scored a single goal. Serbian manager Bora Milutinović, who actually coached the US in the 1994 World Cup, has been there less than three months. If he sticks around perhaps he'll be able to shape them up a bit for 2014.

a few thoughts on the confederations cup, part three: Brazil and Italy

2009-06-30T11:00:00.002-04:00

Brazil. To anyone who follows world soccer, it's not news that Brazil doesn't samba across the pitch any longer, and hasn't for a long time. These days they look like a talented team, but not one with a style that sets them significantly apart from other talented teams. But while joga bonito may have seen better days in Brazil, this is also not the leadfooted defensive-minded Brazil that shocked many of us in the 2007 Copa América. Whether or not Dunga, their coach, cared about the criticism leveled at his dull-but-successful squad at that time, he's definitely fielding a more attacking and creative team these days.

And yet Brazil doesn't rouse an ounce of passion in me--I'm an Argentina girl myself, and somehow the magic of Kaká and Robinho, Alexander Pato, Gilberto Silva and Dani Alves (when he's not at Barça) and all the rest fails to move me. Or maybe I'm just stuck in the past, missing that Ronaldo and Ronaldinho magic. (And yeah, both of those guys, past their heydays much too early, have been guilty of wholly uninspired performances on the pitch as well.)

They were champions in this tournament; they'll do well in the World Cup. But they're not invulnerable, and for a little while on Sunday it looked like the US might beat them. However, the 3-2 scoreline was a little bit of a lie; the disallowed second goal was entirely legit and the score ought to have been 4-2. Had the US won that match the result would have always been tainted with that unfortunate call.

Italy. I like several of the Italian players, I've enjoyed quite a few Serie A matches in my day, and Joe McGinniss's Miracle of Castel di Sangro, about one Terza Categoria's team improbable rise to Serie B is one of my favorite books ever. And yet watching Italy never fails to make me mad sooner or later. Maybe it's the reputation (no longer deserved) for catenaccio, or the ease with which they go to ground; then there's Daniel DeRossi's elbow-in-the-face to Brian McBride in Germany in 2006, Marco Materazzi's goading of Zidane in the final, the unpleasant association of some Italian players with fascist ideology. I don't know; I can't explain it.

I was sorry the US couldn't exact a little payback for the World Cup brawl, but I took satisfaction in Italy's departure following the group stages. Will the world champions look more formidable in a year's time? Eh, probably. But they're an older squad, and they need to inject some more youth into their ranks if they want to go all the way again in South Africa.

And speaking of young talent, I know a lot of Americans are all het up--in varying degrees of seriousness--over young Guiseppe Rossi's decision to play for Italy instead of the US. Jaysus, people. It's not as though he grew up here and obtained foreign citizenship through some long-dead great-grandparent or something. He was born in the US to immigrant parents and moved back to Italy to play for Parma when he was 13. I'm not surprised he doesn't have particularly strong ties to this country, and I don't blame him one bit for choosing a national team that's likely to get him a lot more playing time at a much higher level and is probably, at this point in his life, closer to his heart culturally.

(And yeah...if Italy faces the US again in South Africa next year, and Rossi ends up being decisive in an Italian victory, all my high-mindedness is likely to evaporate in a spittle-crazed vindictive rant about traitors and deserters. But that's football for ya. Watch this space.)

a few thoughts on the confederations cup, part two: Spain, South Africa

2009-06-29T08:30:00.005-04:00

Spain. Spain started out cool, calm, and collected, tiki-taka-ing right on over poor New Zealand with a 5-0 blowout. Here I confess that it really never occurred to me that they wouldn't be in the final. They entered the tournament with a winning streak of more than 30 games; who was going to defeat them en route? Certainly not the US! Mea culpa. In retrospect, it's quite clear to me I was guilty of that very arrogance I despise in other fans and players: the assumption that my team possessed some sort of entitlement to victory. That'll teach me.

You might say that the Spain we saw in South Africa this month was the Spain we're more accustomed to seeing on the world stage, the Spain everyone predicted in Euro 2008: starting out strong and gorgeous, hardly seeming to break a sweat, followed by utter disintegration. Some pundits have said in the past that Spain can't win because the Spanish team, like Spain itself, is hopelessly divided by regionalisms: they are Basques, perhaps, or Catalans, before they are Spaniards. I don't know if that's true, or ever has been, but I don't think it was the case in South Africa on June 24.

I've been puzzling over what went wrong there. The short version is that the US defeated Spain because the US played superior football that day, and it's true--Xavi was slightly off throughout the game; David Villa and Fernando Torres were terrible, incapable of finishing (and the pressure Torres was placing upon himself in the third-place match as a result was unmistakeable). But beyond that--and here I'm looking for reasons, not making excuses--Iniesta, who plays so well with Xavi, was missing, still recovering from late-season injuries. And a number of the key players were Barca boys--and thus at the end of an exhausting season in which they claimed the triple.

At any rate, the pressure's off Spain now to maintain that winning streak. Here's hoping they've been reminded of their vulnerability and they'll learn from their mistakes in time to claim their first-ever World Cup victory in 2010.

South Africa. These guys were probably my happiest surprise of the tournament. Well, okay, besides the US's excellent run into the finals. I don't get to see African teams play nearly as much as I'd like, and I enjoyed watching Egypt play a lot, but I knew they were good: South Africa was spirited and much better than I expected, and along with Spain certainly provided the most thrilling five minutes of the entire tournament in the third-place playoff on Sunday. It was looking like a sure 1-0 defeat for Spain right up to the 88th minute when Daniel Guiza sank the ball home to ensure overtime. But wait! One absurd minute later, Guiza did it again! Oh, the stricken faces of the South Africa fans! Shock, despair, tears, departures in the stands. But wait--here's stoppage time and in the 93rd minute Katlego Mphela (who'd also scored the previous goal) leveled the scoreline again. I was rooting for Spain but I screamed "Oh yeah!" Apparently as the roar went up within the stadium, the fair-weather fans who were on their way out went running back in. South Africa fell anyway in the end, to Xabi Alonso's overtime goal, but this time you felt they'd had a decent chance versus the cruelty of those last-minute shockers, and while the fans looked sad again, there was less of the punched-in-the-gut air about them. I loved this team and I can't wait to watch them again next year, and I like their capable coach Joel Santana, a Brazilian ex-defender with a history of saving clubs from relegation in Brasileirão, Brazil's top league.

to be continued...

some thoughts on the Confederations Cup, part one: Team USA

2009-06-28T19:25:00.008-04:00

Wow! That was fun!

For those of you wondering what the heck is going on with this international-tournament-that-isn't-a-World Cup, the FIFA Confederations Cup is played every four years in the year before the World Cup, hosted by the same country that will host the following year's World Cup. Eight teams participate, generally the champions of their respective continents as well as the previous World Cup winner and the host country national team. It's a great trial run for the participating teams and for the host country. The tournament is not without controversy; it used to be held every two years, which was, as many argued, a bit much, given how many demands are made on top players as it is, and in 2005 FIFA wisely changed it to an every-four-years affair.

You'll also hear differing opinions as to its importance. My own view is that it's somewhere in the middle; I wouldn't call it a major tournament, necessarily, but neither is it a lot of meaningless friendlies as some might try to argue. It's definitely lower-key than the European Football Championships or the Copa América or--certainly--the World Cup, and for that very reason, I find it a lot of fun to watch without a lot of the angst and stress that accompany more significant championships.

So, without further ado, here are my thoughts on the teams from the 2009 Confederations Cup in South Africa.

USA. Now you all know how I feel about the US Men's National Team--our checkered past, my brief flights of infatuation followed by a refusal to commit, my dissatisfaction with their style of play and attitude. But--but--but! This team did what no other US team has yet managed: they won my heart. Oh, I cursed the day they (rightfully) trounced a disarrayed Spain, but seeing them transform from the ineffectual squad that limped through matches against Italy (1-3) and Brazil (0-3) into the scrappy underdogs who clawed their possibly-undeserving way out of the group stages with a rather astounding win against Egypt (3-0) and then to organized and spirited finalists--well, now, that's a narrative to fall in love with! This US team has struggled in some regional World Cup qualifiers and at the start of this tournament I commented that I thought this was a poorer side than the US fielded in either 2002 or 2006. Today, I think that the US might actually make their most respectable showing yet at next year's World Cup.

Among the things the US needs to work on now is consistency, communication (let's work on those passes!), and a lighter defensive touch. They were sent off in three out of five matches and while one or more of those calls may have been questionable, the fact remains that factions in the US are overfond of the "professional foul," that tactical maneuver which says it's okay to cheat, potentially injure an opposing player, and sacrifice yourself in the interest of stopping a goal. Sorry, I call bullshit; I consider the professional foul the most egregious of footballing sins, far worse than the handball or the dive.

Having said that, I was particularly pleased with Jonathan Spector's defending and some really skillful tackles he made. A few years ago, I was at the Marathon in Portland watching an Arsenal v. West Ham match with my fellow apm-ers Lisa and Derek. I was a neutral, rooting for West Ham for my Hammers-supporting friends' sake. At one point, I commented that Spector was making some rough tackles. Two heads swivelled; drinks in hand, my comrades both snarled at me defensively "He's doing his job!" "Right," I whispered meekly, sinking back behind my pint of Guinness.

Other observations on the US team: I'm not yet convinced by the Jozy Altidore hype and I'm waiting for him to impress me. In the early stages, when the US was playing so poorly, I really wanted Bob Bradley to put in Freddy Adu and see what he could do--not because Adu's impressed me in recent memory, but because the squads Bradley was fielding in those early matches played in so astoundingly mediocre a fashion I figured hey, might as well give ex-wunderkind Freddy another shot at it. Now this Charlie Davies, on the other hand, had some fantastic plays and I'm looking forward to seeing more of him. Tim Howard, after a shaky start (was he really the right choice for the national team keeper, I found myself asking) just got better and better and absolutely deserved his Golden Glove.

Poor Clint Dempsey, and indeed the entire team, looked absolutely devastated following their 3-2 loss against Brazil in the final. And good for that--I want a team that plays with every single ounce of courage and heart and feels broken by anything less than a win. My love of Argentina and Spain, those players and that style of beautiful passing football, will always trump my support for the US team, but this was a great week for US soccer. Bob Bradley and his squad should be very proud of themselves indeed. The US team made history; let's do it again in 2010.

To be continued...

FA Cup: Chelsea v Everton

2009-05-30T12:13:00.003-04:00

Well... I don't have a lot to say about this because I only caught most of the second half. But what I saw (that second Chelsea goal from Lampard was brilliant) seemed to favor Chelsea all the way. Malouda was robbed of that goal in the 79 minute too, so the scoreline should have been greater. But Chelsea is used to disappointment of late.

Not today, though. Not today.

Congratulations!

Chelsea 2, Everton 1. And I'll have to check out the replay to see the fastest FA Cup goal ever (25 seconds!) courtesy of Everton's Louis Saha. Good stuff.

Visça Barça!

2009-05-27T17:30:00.004-04:00

Don't have a lot to say right now. My head is still spinning. But damn, Barcelona did it right.

Congratulations to Pep and the team!

More later....

Aftermath

2009-05-07T12:41:00.005-04:00

The aftermath of the Chelsea v Barca Champions League semi-final game yesterday has been... well, nasty. I can understand why Chelsea supporter's feel crushed and I won't dig the shank in deeper. But I have to say that Drogba's and Ballack's performances after the game and the supposed "handball" incident with Eto'o respectively, as well as manager Hiddink's comments about some kind of UEFA conspiracy that prevented Chelsea from winning, were ridiculous.

We won. They lost. We didn't play up to our standards but we didn't blow it either. Great teams don't self-destruct and we didn't. We held on, we kept our composure, even after the red card against Abidal, and we pulled off a miracle. Chelsea scored that incredible goal early on, but they were never able to build upon it. It happens. So they dive, dive, dive, and then whine to the ref when the calls did not go their way. Barcelona have been accused countless times of doing the same thing. Drogba should consider himself lucky he didn't get a yellow card for diving. We won. They lost. It's over.

But a conspiracy? Please. The sense of entitlement from Chelsea, but from most of the top Premiership clubs in general, is astounding. It's difficult for me to believe that anyone would want to see another England league match disguised as the Champions League final again, but a conspiracy by UEFA to prevent Chelsea from winning their due European crown? I mean, they're entitled to win it! Suitcases of money had been exchanged beforehand cementing their victory! Roman Abramovich promised that it was a done deal! How come the ref didn't abide by the deal?

See how silly it is? Ah, cheer up Chelsea. You still have Everton to molest and take your frustrations out on.

For a more reasoned approach to yesterday's game, you can read Nic's great reflections over at FCBnews here.

live blogging: Chelsea v. Barcelona, Champions League Semi-Final, Second Leg

2009-05-06T14:16:00.049-04:00

Derek: Wow, is right. Thanks to everyone and anyone who stopped by for this. We've never done a livblogging thing before, so it was fun. I think we'll do it again and get better at it. Damn, it was hard! Anyway... cheers to you all.

Lynda: Wow, that was . . . that was grueling. Chelsea played a better game than they did at Camp Nou last week. It's true, I too have seen them snatch a soul-crushing stoppage time victory more than once (and was afraid of them doing it this week).

I'm looking forward to the Messi v. Ronaldo showdown in Rome.

I think I'm in shock. Over and out.

Derek: GAME OVER. With all due respect to my friends who are Chelsea supporters... I feel nothing. I've seen Chelsea kill off teams just like this in the last minute. Brutal, though. No doubt about it. All in all, I don't think Barcelona played up to their usual standards, but this is the craziness football. And no, Eto'o did not touch the ball with his hand. He was obviously turning away from the ball and the ball hit him in the upper arm (I think it was; haven't seen the replay). That's not a handball, sorry. It wasn't intentional.

I have to take a breath. My head is spinning.

Chelsea 1, Barcelona 1; 1-1 aggregate with Barcelona moving on to the final with that mean away goal.

Lynda: Iniesta in stoppage time. I think I just had a heart attack.

Derek: GOOOOOOOOAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lynda: 85.00 My Bojan Krkcic in for Busquets.

Derek: 80:00 Pique gets plenty of touches and movement on the ball and makes a good shot on goal. Hard to believe that this was the same team who destroyed Real Madrid on Saturday.

Lynda: 76.00 Remember what I said earlier about wanting two goals? One would be good.

Also, when I said I wanted John Terry to cry, by "John Terry" I did not mean "me."

Lynda: 71.20 Former Barca man Belletti in for Drogba.

Lynda: 68.00 The ref, Tom Henning Øvrebø, has done this before.

Derek: 66:00 This is ridiculous. I'm stunned. Red card for Abidal, who made no contact on Anelka. This is wrong, wrong, wrong. And I'm now officially in favor of instant replay.

Lynda: In fairness, I've seen Dani Alvez shot by snipers from the stands in more La Liga games than I can count.

Derek: 61:00 This is horrifying. I've never seen anything like it before. It looks like... the ball... assassinated Drogba. I guess crime really is on the rise in London.

Derek: 56:00 And Drogba dives again! Beautiful. Clean tackle by Toure.

Derek: 48:00 Pep is understandably pissed at Alves. What the hell is Dani thinking by taking that shot?

Lynda: HALF. I may spend the second half lying down in a dark room far from the TV. But in the meantime, yeah, I'm with Derek--I want to see two goals from Barcelona. Chelsea are too good at those stoppage time, dream-crushing goals for me to comfortable with a 1-1 scoreline.

Derek: HALF. Frustrating first half, no doubt about it. Eto'o, Iniesta, and Messi have been absent for large portions of the game. Hopefully Pep will get 'em focused for the second half and we can get two goals. I know all we need is one, but two is insurance against a Chelsea squad who know how to kill off an opponent at the last minute.

Derek: Stoppage. Excellent shot by Xavi... but to no avail.

Derek: 41:00 Looks like Barca is slowing it down a bit more, inching closer to goal, but still they can't connect.

Derek: 32:00 Hate to see my man Puyol seated in the stands.

Lynda: 30.00 Yellow card for Alvez. It's unsurprising, but Dani, chill out. Seriously. And now Lampard's down on his hands and knees with a split lip. Not sure what went down there.

Derek: 29:00 And Messi finally appears....

Lynda: 26.45 Tommy kept bragging about how this was going to be a "physical" game and how La Liga just isn't used to such a "physical" game because La Liga refs don't allow it and now he keeps complaining when Barca gets "physical" and Chelsea doesn't get the call....

Lynda: 22.53 Free kick for Chelsea after Alvez fouls Malouda. And it's a miss. I can't argue with the ref's decision.

This is getting nerve-wracking. Barca need to score.

Derek: 22:27 Great save by Valdez. Close though.

Lynda: 15.00 Yes, rather than watch the game, please treat us to a montage of shots of Essien's goal. There's still a game going on. Anyway, 15 minutes gone and there's my first prediction shot down--the wrong side scored! No more predictions. Come on, Barca.

Derek: 9:30 Nice goal from Essien.

Lynda: 8.50 Goal for Chelsea, Michael Essien. Valdez should've had that. Damn.

Lynda: 7.30 I can't really argue with Tommy's remark that Dani can be "a bit of a cheat and goes to the ground too easily." Heh. That Dani.

Derek: 4:30 Some really nice forward movement from Barca. Didn't see the supposed handball by Messi. I'd like to see Terry cry again too.

Lynda: 3.30 I've got nothing against John Terry, or even Chelsea for that matter, but that doesn't mean I don't want to see Terry cry again this year.

Derek: 2:25 Nice "shot" Lampard. Or was that a pass? Only he knows.

Derek: Looks like Toure is playing in Marquez's position and Pique has shifted over to Puyol's place. Watch out for Busquets... he's the unknown factor for Chelsea.

Derek: And we're on.... Visca Barca!

Lynda: To their credit, all three ESPN pre-game commentators predicted a win for Barca. 1-1 except for Shaka Hislop who thinks it'll be 1-2. I'm scared to make any scoreline predictions.

Derek: Glad that Pep has pulled Toure back into Puyol's normal position too, shifting Pique into Marquez's. Caceres has simply been too unpredictable to start.

Derek: Still pre-game. Did Tommy Smyth just say that all Chelsea had to do was win? What a genius. No wonder I can't stand to listen to these guys.

Derek: So enough of the ESPN half-informed commentators. Let's get this thing going. I hate predicting anything at this point but I agree with Lynda that Barcelona will score within the first 15 minutes. Iniesta is going to be trouble to defend again. I think it's funny that the four commentators on ESPN keep talking about Barca as untested and that they have trouble getting past the semi-finals. Does no one remember that we won just three seasons ago with many of the same players? Stupid.

Lynda: We'll be liveblogging until the end or until our heads explode from the ESPN announcers' slavish adoration of the Premiership and All Things English (question: if a loss for Barca means La Liga is a second-rate league, does a loss for Chelsea mean the same about the EPL?). Looks like Henry's out with that knee injury he sustained this weekend during El Clasico. Guardiola's made some interesting shuffles in the lineup to account for the lack of defenders--he's got Toure in Puyol's position (who's out on accumulated yellow cards). For Hiddink's part, he's added Anelka as a striker alongside Drogba.

Hang on tight. We're just minutes away from the start.

Champions League Semi-Finals Biased Live Blogging

2009-05-05T22:22:00.003-04:00

We've never live blogged before, but Wednesday afternoon we'll be hunkered down in front of the telly trying to keep our lunch down while we live blog the Barcelona v Chelsea match.

It will be biased and we'll probably make fools of ourselves trying to keep up with all of the action. But it will be fun.

Drop on by if you're so inclined.

See y'all tomorrow!

Barcelona Pictures

2009-05-03T13:25:00.004-04:00

Over at the FC Barcelona official site there are some absolutely fabulous pictures of supporters celebrating in the streets and welcoming back our Blaugrana heroes back to the city. Oh, to be there in person.

Check it out here.

Memo to Amy Lawrence

2009-05-02T17:17:00.003-04:00

Memo to Amy Lawrence: guess you didn't see Barcelona's 2-6 man-handling of Real Madrid today. The arrogance and ignorance of the English footie press never fails to amuse me.

a few thoughts on three world cup qualifiers

2009-03-30T11:06:00.005-04:00

I haven't seen this Spain team play since their exuberant rout through Euro 2008 and was more than a little apprehensive about how the team would fare without Luis Aragonés, who's moved on to coach Turkey's Fenerbahçe. Vicente del Boque, however, has maintained their streak of 30 undefeated matches, and they're at the top of their group. The team that took the pitch this weekend seemed a bit subdued, and the goalless first half was worrying. Gerard Pique was the surprise hero of the match, scoring his first-ever goal for the national team and the only goal of the game. Iniesta, Puyol, and Fàbregas were all injured, so that may have contributed to the relatively lackluster performance, but I'm hoping to see more fire and flair out of La Furia Roja in later matches--and this summer at the Confederations Cup.

Longtime readers of apm may recall my ambivalent feelings toward team USA, which I cannot help but likening to a boring boyfriend in tan slacks--who, on occasion, suddenly shows this astonishing burst of passion, causing me to regard him (them) in a new light. For most of the match against El Salvador on Saturday I was frankly appalled at the performance of the US team--they should not have struggled this hard against El Salvador, ranked 106 in the world (for whatever FIFA's rankings are worth: not much, plenty would tell you, but still). This wasn't boring; this was shambolic! And then, in the last fifteen minutes, that will and passion suddenly blazed and the squad managed to level the 2-0 score and pull at least a point out of the match. It's always nice to see the US play with that kind of heart, although the 75 minutes that preceeded it were unfortunate, to say the least.

There are always rumblings that the US only makes it into the World Cup because CONCACAF qualifying isn't that difficult compared to some of the other regions, and it's true that we aren't exactly facing the giants of football on the road to South Africa. And partly because of that, I always feel like the US turns up at the World Cup with unrealistic expectations of what they can do and what they're up against. It's disheartening to see this kind of performance against a team they should have defeated handily; at this rate they're not going to see much of South Africa before they're sent home after the first rounds. The US national team will never replace my beloved Spaniards and Argentinians in my affections, but I feel about them the way you do about your relatives: I can trash talk them, but I don't want to hear anybody outside of the family doing it, you know? So I always hope that at the very least they don't embarrass me in public.

Apropos of nothing, it's kind of hilarious to see the pre-game ads; there is such an emphasis on aggression. O the fear of being labeled pansies for handling the ball with your feet, not your hands!

Finally, Saudi Arabia defeated Iran at home 2-1 in a shocker; I only saw the last part of this match but Iran looked shaky and manager Ali Daie's been fired as a result. I couldn't help thinking of the film Offside and hoping women fans didn't put themselves to too much trouble sneaking in to this disappointing match. With a mere six points in five games, sitting fourth place in their group, Iran has a struggle ahead to qualify. One of the announcers for this game mentioned that Iran doesn't get many friendlies and so the squad doesn't play together as often as others; they did seem to lack cohesion. Is it too late for a new coach to come in and turn things around?

Welcome to WPS!

2009-03-29T18:12:00.006-04:00

Women's professional soccer is back in the US, and I'm writing this as I watch the inaugural WPS match on Fox Soccer Channel. The WPS website is billing this as Abby versus Marta--that's Abby Wambach---

GOOOOOAAAALLLLL! LA Sol defender Allison Falk scores the first ever WPS goal in the sixth minute!

As I was saying, that's Abby Wambach, familiar as a forward to fans of the US Women's team, and Brazilian forward Marta Viera da Silva, who I wrote about a little bit a couple of years ago (check out the Alex Bellos article I link from that entry).

Right now seven teams make up this fledgling league: today's dueling LA Sol and the Washington Freedom (who comes up with these names?) as well as the Boston Breakers, the Chicago Red Stars, FC Gold Pride (Bay Area), Sky Blue FC (NY/NJ), and St Louis Athletica. Next year the league will expand to Philadelphia and--Atlanta!--so next year I'll be able to blog some live matches from here in the deep South. This will go some way (only some) toward mitigating the pain of being so very far from my beloved Portland Timbers.

I've blogged off and on about women's soccer and issues surrounding women in the sport, though never as consistently as I've wanted to I'll be doing my best in the coming months to write about WPS, the players, and the matches. If you didn't click my link up above, check out the new league's website here. And now I've got a match to follow.

Timbers Enter MLS In 2011

2009-03-20T13:55:00.002-04:00

http://portlandtimbers.com/newsroom/headlines/index.html?article_id=1108

More later....

green is the color...in MLS!

2009-03-20T13:31:00.003-04:00

This seems as momentous an occasion as I can think of to restart our footy musings on apm:

Fellow soccer blogger Zach Dundas reflects on the history of the Portland Timbers as the announcement comes that we're moving up to MLS in 2011.

I'm feeling giddy, speechless, excited, apprehensive, relieved, terrified, and really damn proud. Back on the US side of the pond but far from the Rose City, as much as ever I'm Rose City til I die!

Zoinks!

2008-10-03T20:35:00.002-04:00

This is just too hilarious to even try to describe. Simply read it... and weep with uncomfortable laughter. Man, it must suck to be a Magpie supporter right now:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/football/2008/oct/03/newcastleunited.premierleague

Zidane Comes to Portland!

2008-09-05T09:46:00.004-04:00

I've been dreaming for the great one to journey to my hometown of Portland, Oregon, for many... well, two years now. Not as a member of my club the Timbers, not in the flesh, but in 24-frames per second. Moving pictures... in the hyper-reality of cinema... in the celluloid guise of the brilliant film Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait. I've written about this film a couple of times before (here and here), and was frustrated that it had never received a proper theatrical release in the States.

Thankfully, mad soccer fan and p.r. man for the Portland Institute of Contemporary Arts Brian Costello felt the same way and has managed to get a print of the film for several screenings at this year's 2008 Time Based Arts Festival. Sadly, I'm not currently living in Portland... so I'll have to wait some more before I can finally see it on the big screen. But lucky Portlanders with a taste for the Beautiful Game and/or great cinema are in for a treat.

The film will play as part of the festival's On the Screen program. Don't miss it!

The details:

Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait

2008 Time-Based Art Festival

screenings at Northwest Film Center Whitsell Auditorium at Portland Art Museum

1219 SW Park, Portland, OR

$6 PICA Members / $7 General

Sat . Sept 6 . 9-10:30 pm

Thurs . Sept 11 . 7-8:30 pm

Fri . Sept 12 . 6:30-8 pm

Fri . Sept 12 . 8:30-10 pm

Sun . Sept 14 . 7:30-9 pm

a farewell to Oleguer

2008-07-31T15:10:00.000-04:00

I know some people find the political stances taken by Barca and/or its players particularly irritating, because, I don't know, it's so much cooler to, you know, act like you don't care about anything* (or, alternately, that anyone who claims they do give a shit about anything past their own nose must surely be lying). But it's one of the things about Barcelona that makes my little commie heart just swell with pride and joy. I've written before about my affection for the principled Oleguer, and I know he's made mistakes and not been Barca's best defender, but I'm still sorry to see him go. But his farewell letter is written with all the class and humility I've come to expect. Goodbye, Oleguer. I'll be checking out Ajax when I'm able, just to get a look at you on the pitch again.

*I can't help hearing Rik from The Young Ones: "I don't care what I do! I don't care if I live or die!"

Euro 2008 Celebrations in Madrid

2008-06-30T20:54:00.005-04:00

Here in our little village in rural Ireland... no one seemed to care about the Euro final but Lynda and me. And certainly no one cared about Spain. Looks like we planned our exit from Spain all wrong. Oh, how I wish I'd been in Madrid yesterday. Well... there's always 2010.

Xavi

2008-06-30T07:26:00.005-04:00

Those of us who regularly watch and follow Barcelona are well aware of the craft and alchemical transcendence that Xavi and Iniesta can conjure up on a weekly basis. They work as a team within a team--quick thinking, fleet of foot, unselfish, and daring enough to slip passes through a clomp of defenders when it seems most unstable, almost ruinous to do so.

Both players had an outstanding Euro 2008, and obviously UEFA thought so as well, as Xavi was named best Player of the Tournament. Brilliant. Nine Spanish players in all were named to the 2008 team of the tournament as well: Casillas, Marchena, Puyol, Senna, Iniesta, Xavi, Fabregas, Torres, and Villa.

What a great, great tournament. I need some space and time to think, to soak it all in before writing about it more....

In the meantime, you can read more about the player of the games here.

Euro 2008 Final: Spain Victorious At Long Last!

2008-06-29T16:42:00.004-04:00

Spain 1, Germany 0

Football romantics of the world rejoice!

Euro 2008 Half Time: Spain v Germany 1-0

2008-06-29T15:42:00.001-04:00

Euro 2008 Final: Spain v Germany

2008-06-29T14:29:00.003-04:00

And so... here we are. It's all come to this. It's sundown and good luck to you both. Keep it clean and keep it pretty. Or else....

See you at half time.

Villa Out of Euro Final

2008-06-27T08:21:00.004-04:00

For fans of Spain, the horrible news has been confirmed... forward David Villa is out of the final against Germany (to be played on Sunday) after suffering a thigh injury early on in last night's semi-final match against Russia.

So Villa is out... and lone striker Torres will probably remain damp and uninspired. He really has had an awful tournament. But better he than the whole team. Regardless, there is still plenty of fire power and crafty goal scoring options from the midfield (Iniesta, Xavi, Fabregas, Silva), as well as from reserve striker Dani Guiza. He still looks nervous on the ball at times, but his goal last night is perhaps what he needed to loosen up.

You can read more here.

Spain v Italy: Negativity Will Always Get You Killed

2008-06-22T17:19:00.004-04:00

Italy played for penalties (anti-football) and... well, you saw how it ended.

Bravo!

Halftime: Spain v Italy 0-0

2008-06-22T15:36:00.002-04:00

So... how much has the ref been paid off by the Italians?

Now, back to the match....

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly: Spain v Italy

2008-06-22T14:04:00.003-04:00

Not even thinking of football, both Spain and Italy have long held dominion over my imagination to varying degrees. It has something to do with cinema. Has there ever been a more potent combination than the seductive synthesis, the cross pollination of aesthetics, than the so-called Spaghetti Westerns? I don't think so. It's a subjective argument, of course. But for me... I know what films would be bursting out of my desert island suitcase. The great Sergio Leone, the Italian master of the European Western and one of the great pop stylists of all time, was probably never better than with The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, his 1966 classic with Eastwood, Van Cleef, and Wallach filmed in Almeria, Spain, and set in some weird mythical America that never existed. Brilliant. Leone's fellow countryman and artistic collaborator, composer Ennio Morricone, I don't think ever composed a piece of music as beautiful as the "Ecstasy of Gold" sequence.

This is cinema. This is the Spain and Italy of my dreams....

Let's hope the match, which should beginning in just a few minutes, is something wonderful to behold as well.

waiting for Spain

2008-06-22T05:20:00.001-04:00

It's a truly blustery day here in Ireland (summer*? what's that you say?) and from the moment I woke up this morning all I've been able to think about is Spain's quarterfinal match against Italy tonight. Earlier this week Sid Lowe examined Spain's angst around the match and today Paul Wilson takes a look at just what each squad is up against. Let's hope Aragones' boys don't leave it as late as they did in the match against Sweden, which we suffered through at the pub up the street in the company of two English tourists and an Irish family who turned up for a meal and randomly ended up sitting by the TV but were drawn in and cheered for Spain along with us. No one around here appears to be much interested in the tournament (save for some betting losses), perhaps because neither the Republic of Ireland nor any UK squads made it in this year, perhaps because they'd rather be watching Gaelic football.

Russia's lads, meanwhile, don't play pretty but their passion on the pitch is a beautiful thing indeed. They'd be my second team now if not for the fact that my Spanish boys will have to knock them out of the semifinals.

A little more than nine hours till match time and yes, I am counting. As Paul Wilson predicts, I'll be watching most of it peeking through my fingers.

*Summer. That's a thing they have down in Spain, you know. Ah, Spain.

Brilliant Orange Peels

2008-06-21T17:07:00.003-04:00

Unbelievable.

I was so anxiously awaiting tonight's Euro 2008 match because I hadn't watched the Dutch team yet the entire tournament. Why? Don't ask. So tonight, Lynda and I went over to the neighbor's cottage to watch some television while she's out of town for a couple of days. We don't have a television at the moment, and yes, our neighbor knows we're in her place. It's not like we break into other people's homes just to watch television while they're away! Anyway...

Unbelievable.

But the "brilliant orange" Dutch squad, the neo-Total Football team of lucid dreams... flopped. They've done it before, of course. History is littered with them peels.

But Russia? Yes, Russia! They were anything but pretty and half-way through the game I was completely won over by Hiddink's tenacious lads.

The Dutch Sorceror takes out the Apprentice Van Basten.

Unbelievable.

And now Spain (my pick to win it all and break that stupid curse once and for all) and Italy. I'll be there... right in front of that television and happy that my wonderful, lovely neighbor is still gone for another night.

a beautiful effort by xabi alonso and the sheer awfulness of watching italy v france

2008-06-18T18:41:00.002-04:00

Anyone who remembers Spain v Saudi Arabia in the last World Cup will recall how positively laissez-faire the boys from the Spanish bench can be in throwaway games. Maybe it was the heat on that particular day, or maybe they had something more to prove in a seemingly no-stakes match against the already-ousted Greeks today, but it was a good game. I wouldn't say it was enjoyable, since the Greek side was broken-hearted but dignified, its silver-haired keeper retiring from International play after this final match, but both sides fought well and truly to a respectable result. Yesterday during France v Italy (brr. I shudder just to speak it), ubercommentator Andy Grey said that "a biscuit ending" is the term for a lopsided match outcome resulting from a team already assured of its place in the next round relaxing and letting a still-struggling team win. Although I think because Greece had no hopes this could not have been an honest-to-pete Biscuit Ending, I was half expecting... who am I kidding? I was COMPLETELY expecting some lackadaisical playing from the men in red. I'm pleased to say I was dead wrong.

Luis Aragones, the Man with the Perpetual Scowl, rested ten of his starting eleven, with only Andres Iniesta carrying over. Still, any B-team that has Cesc Fabregas and Xabi Alonso in its midfield is what my Uncle Roy would call a bench so good it feels like cheatin'. And it looked like the Xabi-and-Cesc show for a long time in. There were many rushed shots flying wide and high from strikers eager to prove themselves to the boss, but at the heart of it were Cesc and Xabi, calm and confident, delivering perfect passes right to the feet of their forward men, setting up dangerous plays which eventually paid off. Xabi himself very nearly got in one of those fantastic thunderstrikes he likes to deliver from his own end of the pitch (against Luton Town in the 2006 FA Cup third-round tie from 65 yards, and again in a Newcastle match in September of that year). This one flew just barely wide, and it was so fast, hard and unexpected that Antonios Nikopolidis wrapped himself around the post trying to reach it, nearly knocking himself out.

The final score was 2-1 Spain, with goals by Angelos Charisteas, an unstoppable header for the Greeks in the 42nd minute, equalised by Ruben de la Red of Real Madrid (he does one of those Luis Garcia thumbsucking celebrations, alas) in the second half, then won with a header in by Dani Guiza of Mallorca in the 88th.

The bad news is that Xabi Alonso seems Juventus-bound. Nice for him. Bad for me. I always loved the pairing of Gerrard and Alonso in the Liverpudlian midfield.

As for France v. Italy, let's say as little as possible, shall we? I've now seen these two sides meet exactly twice. In the first, Thierry Henry got an inauspicious thump to the head within the first twenty minutes, and that lovely Zidane fellow came to a rather bad end before the day was out with a different sort of head-thump. Yesterday was hardly better. Riberry was out on a stretcher before ten minutes was gone, there was a flurry of bookings for both sides (Pirlo and Gattuso will both be sidelined in the match against Spain. Feels like cheatin' if we win that way, but I can't say I'll mind) including a dreaded red card for Eric Abidal who made a terrible tackle on Toni in the box. Much as I dislike Luca Toni, he'd stretched out with a grace nothing short of balletic to get a lovely touch on a pass in the area and Abidal saw no recourse but to barge into him from behind. It was one of those red cards that was so inevitable that even if the ref had been on the French payroll, he'd still have had to give it.

Anyway, it got worse from there, with Henry and his Gauls limping across the finish line with few or no good moments to show for it. Pirlo got the initial penalty with one sweet, short stroke and I don't even remember who got the second goal. It's possible I'd turned it off before then. Les Bleus are not a team I care about, not since Zidane is retired, and it was STILL like having a tooth out to watch it. Brrr. I'm shuddering again.

So on to the Quarterfinals: Germany v Portugal on Thursday (I'm hoping for some of the hellish good Schadenfreude fun I had during Italy v Germany during the World Cup), Croatia v Turkey on Friday, Russia takes on the Brilliant Orange on Saturday, and then the big one: Spain v Italy on Sunday.

duende! carisma! and don't forget the hat-trick

2008-06-11T13:53:00.002-04:00

I asked my co-worker from Madrid what the Spanish term for hat-trick is and he said there isn't one. Thinking maybe he just doesn't care enough about football (when I asked him his favorite team, he said he didn't have one... although he was perhaps being gracious, as he already knew my Catalan proclivities), I searched online and found the word SOMBRERITO. Possibly this is an invention by Englishers who cannot, like me, imagine a culture in which there is no common word for a hat-trick.

In any case, how about that "el Guaje" and his "little hat" against the Russians?

I watched the Spain v US friendly last week as a warm-up to these very Euro 2008 festivities, jumping in around the interval. I had expected a fair-to-middling football match, and I got that, just barely, but I had forgotten about La Furia and how it affects me. Not having seen the list of the starting eleven, the players came clear to me slowly, and I started to feel that familiar passion from the old World Cup days: a heartfelt pasticcio of warm affection, excitement, and awe. From Iker Casillas at the back all the way up, this pitch is full of men of playful genius.

In my pre-World Cup days of heady optimism (naive, so I was told on this very blog by some world-weary soul who'd seen it all before... "they'll crap out by quarterfinals," he intoned like Eeyore, and, indeed, he called it spot-on), I saw all that brilliance packed into all those kids and worried that the granddads, the Puyols and Rauls, would have to shoulder too much of the burden from their rambunctious charges. Now I look out across that pitch at all those ultra-promising kids... Torres, Ramos, Iniesta, little Cesc... and they're all, without exception, becoming magnificent in adulthood.

And, with ominous familiarity, I say to myself, "How can they possibly NOT win?"

Dangerous words to speak, always, in the hearing of the capricious Football Gods. So I'll try and sit as quietly as possible through the rest of the tournament, except for those times when La Roja play with such joy and elan that I can't help but laugh and holler.

Against the US, they weren't fusing properly. Probably the Spaniards were giving it all the weight of a practice session. Ramos was having a hard time getting his crosses in to Torres, and the sheer height of the Americans was proving a difficulty, which doesn't bode well for a match against Joachim Low's towering huns. Xavi's goal, off one of Cesc's perfect passes, was stubborn and utilitarian, no frills, but it did the job. Yesterday was a different matter: Aragones tucked a second striker up front alongside el Nino (these fellows need new nicknames. What happens when you're forty and stuck with "The Kid" as a moniker?) and the two went to work. Villa's finishes came off lovely set-ups from Torres, Iniesta and Fabregas, and Cesc's late and sweet diving header came off Villa's foot by way of Xavi's then the Russian keeper's punch-out.

Oh, to be in the Alps right now. Weather conditions are bad: even as we speak, Turkey struggles against the formidable Yakin and the Swiss in a sort of grassy swimming pool. But nothing in the world is shining more beautifully than the Spaniards in the Alps right now, and oh, to be there to see it.

Euro 2008 Hocus Pocus

2008-06-06T13:19:00.005-04:00

With tomorrow being the first match day of Euro 2008, apm will do its best to cover as many of the games as we can, though our internet connection for the next couple of weeks will be spotty. Luckily, there is a pub down the street that will be showing all of the games and we’ll do our best.

Spain is my fave to win it all. Of course, they’ll probably burn out in the quarter finals… just like they always do. Regardless, I’m following my heart, though my intellect isn’t betraying me on this one either.

But you can’t count out Germany or France. Italy, I’m not so sure about this time around, what with Cannavaro being sidelined. Are they ravenous to prove that they can take the cup? I’m not convinced. The home countries, Switzerland and Austria, who normally should do well… won’t. Austria weren't even in FIFA’s 100 world ranking as of April (they were 102) and Switzerland, despite having some good players, will probably only make trouble for Germany if they make it out of the group stage. But don't count on it.

Of course, this is football and anything could happen. Off the top of my head, my picks for the teams who'll make it out of their respective groups are as follows:

Group A: Portugal and Turkey

Group B: Germany and Croatia

Group C: France and Italy

Group D: Spain and Russia

I'd love to see Romania make it out of their group instead of Italy, but I honestly haven't watched them enough to feel confident about that. I'd also love to see the Czech Republic storm out of Group A, though I'm not sure they'll be able to hold it together without the presence of Tomas Rosicky, who is injured.

Anyway... tomorrow all of this conjuring and hocus pocus guessing will start to become flesh. And the tears, cheers, and jeers will no doubt follow.

Onward!

in which Team USA embarrasses us in public

2008-06-01T12:31:00.011-04:00

We had planned our return from beautiful Espana to the Anglo-Saxon world specifically to coincide with the US v. England friendly on May 28, but that was before the tickets actually went on sale. Thanks to the appalling exchange rate, the cheapest seats were going for a cool $60 apiece. That's far more than we paid to see Barcelona (and not even in the cheapest seats), and we really do not like either of these teams nearly enough to shell out that kind of cash. Why, what with current inflation and the weak US dollar against the pound, that's like five or six pints down the pub!

So it was off to the pub we went indeed, a fine establishment located literally steps from our London B&B, which was a bonus--in case things turned ugly, we didn't have far to run. Had we only known--the only running we'd need to do would be fleeing from the humiliation of seeing the Euro-dropouts run roughshod over Team USA, all to the accompaniment of sneering announcers making smug comments like "England showed America up for what they really are--a very very poor side!" They chortled over footage of Becks' recent 70-yard shot right into goal in the LA Galaxy vs Kansas City Wizards game a few days earlier ("Does America even have goalkeepers?") and following John Terry's (admittedly fine) header thirty minutes in announced that "it's taken England a little over half an hour to assert their superiority!"

Speaking of John Terry...did he look a bit teary-eyed after making that goal? John, you've got to watch out or you're going to get a reputation as a crybaby. He didn't do himself any favors afterwards by announcing that "I'm a man for the big games and I've shown that"--Jaysus, John, so the Champion's League final was just an insignificant blip and this was the match you've been preparing for all season? Perhaps the next time he opens his mouth someone ought to stuff a Jaffa cake in it. Might help with any future sobbing fits, too.

Anyway, as anyone who watched the match already knows, things went from bad to worse as Gerrard scored a second goal and the US were shut out all night. Worse, both goals were fine ones, so we can't take any satisfaction there either. English football announcers are just as annoyingly hyperbolic as American ones as they all but anointed the England team champions of the world based on the result. (You can't have it both ways, lads: either they defeated a poor side and therefore the result was meaningless or the US team is actually a bit better than you claim they are.) The patrons and staff of the bar were kind enough not to point and laugh at us like Nelson Muntz but perhaps only because, as is always the case with us when we travel, no one suspects we are American. We aren't really Team USA fans (as many of our readers know), but man, talk about letting down the side! It's embarrassing sitting in a pub in another country listening to announcers and patrons snicker and mock your national football team! Like being stuck in a room enduring an endless live reading of those tiresome "Yanks can't do football" articles from the Guardian! We drowned our sorrows in another round and slunk back to our room. Thanks for nothing, Team USA!

Three Lions Support Espana!

2008-05-28T04:27:00.004-04:00

It's almost Euro 2008 time and apm is gonna try its best to cover most of it. We can't wait, especially since we haven't been able to watch a lot of football while abroad. But hey, no complaints. We're abroad for crying out loud!

Anyway... although I have found myself tearing my hair out over the sometimes dire exploits of England's grand inflated superstars, and have wished them ill-will many a time just to... well, I guess to prove some kind of point... it does feel weird not having them around to beat up--I mean, to watch self-implode.

But supporters of the Three Lions wake up! There's another national squad that you can watch loom large for those early matches and then burn out in spectacular fashion.

The Guardian, in leading up to the tournament, has been running a series of columns with accompanying video informing England's shut-out supporters that there are options for their allegiance... at least for a month. In today's post, Colombian writer Juan Gabriel Vasquez, author of The Informers, talks about why Spain should garner the favor of England fans.

This morning, while scarfing down a plate of egg, rashers of bacon, beans, toast, and tea (ah, Spain, I dearly miss you already, but I do love me my English breakfast), the morning DJ on the radio said that a majority of English fans will be following Italy for the title. That's too easy, I think. That kind of certainty is too simple, too alien for an English fan. What will the average English fan do if Italy win? How do you expect them to celebrate? A Three Lions supporter only knows hope then blistering defeat! An English fan has only seen mass celebrations, like the ones in Italy after the last World Cup, from television. They won't know what to do if Italy wins.

But they'll know how to act when Spain sputters out. That alcohol-fueled self-hate and misery will be all too familiar to a Three Lions supporter.

Support Spain, fans of England. Support another world class bunch of over-achievers who will under-achieve when their country needs them the most.

I know who I'm rooting for.

Comares CF

2008-05-07T11:16:00.003-04:00

Here in Comares, a tiny village high in the Axarquia region of Andalucia (where I'm fortunate to be staying for the month), there is no official football team as far as I know. The closest professional team is Malaga CF, who currently play in the Segunda Division.

But don't tell these lads there's no team in Comares. I caught them playing a fast and ruthless game upon the hot stones a few days ago.

Salut!

Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait... Redux

2008-04-21T19:34:00.004-04:00

Why is this brilliant film still not available on DVD in the U.S.? If we can take down Uwe Boll, we can surely get this released in Region 1!

so far away

2008-04-18T05:35:00.007-04:00

As we vagabond around Europe, I have been homesick exactly one time, and it started sometime after midnight last night, knowing you all back in P-Town were gearing up for the season opener and the retirement of Timber Jim. I told myself I wouldn't--couldn't--stay up till game time, 4 AM for us, but as the hand on the clock crawled past 3 AM I was trawling the official site and the Timber Mill until it all became too much for me to bear and I went to sleep, with dreams of the Greek chant dancing in my head. Now it's late morning here in Granada, Spain, blue sky and fast-moving clouds after heavy rainshowers and it's not yet 3 AM where all of you are, fast asleep most of you, my beloved Timbers, all the TA and supporters, and Timber Jim. I just read over this thread at Soccer City USA and looked at the pictures and now I'm crying at my keyboard.

The new turf (thank you again Merritt Paulson!--and oh, yeah, I think I love you, too) in the Timber Jim memories video over at the official site looks gorgeous and it sounds like we taught those Islanders a lesson, despite the ref's best efforts. 1-0 Timbers! You cannot stop us! We are the Rose City! I can't wait to see more of your pictures and read your accounts. We sent a man in ourselves to get some pics and video, so we should have a guest post up here soon. Timbers fans, y'all are the best anywhere. I miss the hell out of you.

Check out Allison Andrews' Timbers Jim memories, a four-part series beginning here.

Edited to add: Great pics and match report from The Offside here. Look at the size of the North End!

AC Milan Ready To Purchase Unknown Kid from Barcelona

2008-04-12T06:40:00.006-04:00

The writing has been on the wall all season: will Ronaldinho leave Barca at the end of the season? Should he leave? When will he leave? Isn't he gone yet?

It's not official, but supposedly the player's agent/brother Roberto de Assis is blabbing that the carioca/footballer is on to AC Milan.

You can read tidbits here and here. More later when FC Barcelona and AC Milan make official announcements.

Shaka Hislop blogs MLS

2008-03-28T16:03:00.003-04:00

Dear to me for his service with the Trinidad & Tobago squad in 2006 (and to some readers and my fellow apm contributors for his West Ham goalkeeping), Shaka Hislop will blog weekly on the Guardian throughout the upcoming MLS season. I'm happy to report the vast majority of comments so far are of the pleasantly-surprised-and-anticipating variety as opposed to the tiresome "blah blah blah Americans can't play footba..." God, I got so bored thinking about it I couldn't even finish the sentence.

You know the drill: I can and will trash talk MLS, American soccer players, and Team USA till the cows come home, but as I once heard the great Texas author Joe Lansdale say*, "It may be junk, but it's our junk."

At any rate, I'm excited that US soccer is getting some decent, knowledgeable coverage in the Guardian. It's long overdue.

*Mr. Lansdale was in fact referring not to American soccer, but to crap horror movies. Which is not to say that either horror movies (another of my favorite indulgences) or American soccer are really crap. Have I equivocated enough here? Good. Moving right along...

mala noche

2008-03-21T05:55:00.005-04:00

The little girl, maybe nine years old, at the tapas joint/restaurant/cerveseria yesterday was going to have a good night, like the rest of us gathering for Barca's Copa del Rey match against Valencia. She wore her blue Barca away kit and sat up front next to her dad, or on the lap of her mother, who stopped in briefly. She knew everyone in the restaurant, including the staff, who doted on her, kissing her and supplying her with bottles of Fanta with the straw sticking out the top. When Valencia scored the first of what would be three goals, she tore off the jersey and shouted at her squad. The two old women next to us flung their napkins down in disgust and stormed out. Valencia's second goal, in the final moments of the first half, had the slow-mo, I-can't-believe-this-is-happening quality of a nightmare. Anger and commiseration at watching your team go down like this has a common language of its own and we all cried out and shook our heads at one another. It was too much for the youngest fan present, who leapt up, lip trembling and eyes brimming with tears, and raced into the square outside. Her dad went out to try comforting her and bringing her back, but to no avail. We last saw them trudging up the narrow Barcoleneta street towards home.

I'm normally idiotically optimistic during soccer games but given Barca's performances of late I wasn't holding out a lot of hope for them to come roaring back in the second half. Our goal celebration for Henry was short-lived as Valencia's devastating response came only seconds later. We exchanged wordless sympathies with the old man behind us who got up and began pacing around the bar, unable to sit still for the remainder of the match. Hope surged back with the late Eto'o goal in the 80th minute, and Valencia began to show signs of wear. Yet it was all to no avail, and in the end Barca went down with scarcely a whimper.

Barca's won only a single match--the Champions League leg against Celtic--since we arrived in the city, and that at the expense of Leo Messi for the rest of the season. Now, it seems, they're on track to lose the season along with the Copa del Rey loss, and what will become of them in the Champion's League is anyone's guess. It seemed the night couldn't get any worse, but then Derek reached for his wallet and discovered that Barca wasn't the only thing around getting its pocket picked. Down one Copa del Rey championship, one fifty-euro note, and one debit card: the costliest football loss we've endured. Mala noche, indeed.

Nic's been writing some good stuff lately about the team's struggles of late and here's his match report from this game.

US Team Will Play England in Exhibition Match

2008-03-20T08:49:00.005-04:00

It's been rumored for awhile, but it's been confirmed by the bigwigs at US Soccer that the US Men's National Team will travel to Wembley to play England (for the first time since 1994) on May 28. The US team had already been lined up to play Poland on March 26 and Spain in June. The match up between the Three Lions and the Uncle Sam is great news for fans of the US team and should be a fantastic prelude to World Cup 2010 qualifying which begins later in June.

You can read more about it here.

Maradona

2008-03-17T14:59:00.003-04:00

Bad Guy. Icon. Hero to the Downtrodden. Bum. There’s always been a little of Tony “Scarface” Montana in Maradona. Beloved by millions… loathed, mocked, and just plain hated by everyone else the world over… Diego Maradona is a football superstar no one can be passive about. Sure, it’s easy to laugh at his eccentric on and off the field buffoonery, drug and alcohol excesses—but it’s impossible to deny the man’s talent or the importance of his legacy. It’s been a little over ten years since the rotund and fierce juggernaut of the pitch retired amidst scandal due to his drug addiction and the notorious 1994 World Cup incident in which Maradona was accused of taking the drug ephedrine and was subsequently booted from the tournament after playing only two matches, and so it is perhaps a bit convenient to forget the marvels the young boy from the slums of Buenos Aires graced the world with.

For anyone who still has their doubts, Maradona: The Autobiography of Soccer’s Greatest and Most Controversial Star should help jar the memory. It’s all here: the rags to riches story of the precocious young Maradona’s rise to stardom in Argentina playing for a number of clubs, including his beloved Boca Juniors, the inevitable big money tease and lure from the fat cat European clubs, his short and less than glorious time with FC Barcelona in the early 1980s (where he also picked up his cocaine habit), his stellar and controversial time playing for Napoli in the Serie A, where he took the club to heights undreamt of before his arrival (two domestic league championships, a Coppa Italia championship, a UEFA Cup championship, and a Supercup championship), and Maradona’s World Cup appearances. This, of course, is what most fans will want to read about and Maradona doesn’t skimp on the details or excitement of the tournaments. The 1986 World Cup quarter final against England is classic stuff and has been written about ad nauseum. But here, as told by Maradona to his two ghostwriters, El Diego’s idiosyncratic syntax snaps us to attention in all its coarseness and exuberance. The audaciousness of the “Hand of God” goal and the pure brilliance of the second, more entrancing goal are appropriately lavished upon, as is the complete burnout of the 1994 World Cup games held in the United States.

All of that is worth picking up the book in and of itself, but I found the rise and fall of Maradona’s time playing for Napoli to be the most interesting. The team, which had always performed respectfully though permanently in the shadows of the bigger, more lucrative Serie A teams, snatched Maradona up from Barcelona for a then unheard of 6.9 million pounds and transformed the squad into a spectacular new era. For bringing glory, revenue, and championships to the team and the city, Maradona was heralded as a living god of the pitch. Of course, the downfall came like a bullet—rumors of friendship with the local Camorra (the Neapolitan mafia), cocaine abuse and fathering an illegitimate son. Regardless, El Diego’s appetite for self-destruction knew no bounds….

For some… including myself as a child… Pele was the perfect embodiment of football—he had the grace, charisma, good humor, and the style to fuel a million adolescent daydreams. But Maradona appeals to the adult in ways Pele unfortunately never can. Maradona certainly proved on the pitch—the only thing that matters in the end—why he was Pele’s equal and nemesis. Certainly, his life off of the pitch fascinates as well. For all his prowess as a football superstar… he seems so desperate to impress, oblivious to his frailties yet such a willing victim to his own inflated ego. He seems so utterly human and sadly recognizable. His fleet-footed gifts were so spectacular and he had a prodigious personality to match. But underneath the showbiz gregariousness resides something so painfully weak and essentially identifiable to us lowly mortals. Locked in the perpetual cycle of ascension, ruin, and suffering that seems to be his lot, one day it will all cease. And then… everyone will speak of him as if he were the brightest star that ever burned.

Maradona: The Autobiography of Soccer’s Greatest and Most Controversial Star is available from Skyhorse Publishing for the first time in English and should be obtainable from the usual suspects.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

2008-03-17T06:42:00.003-04:00

The air was thick with smoke and Catalan curses. Unlike the night of the Champion's League match against Celtic a couple of weeks ago, half the neighborhood hadn't stopped in beforehand to reserve seats in front of the giant projection screen, so by arriving unfashionably early by Spanish standards--a whole ten minutes before match time--and, luckily, showing up hungry and promising to order food along with our cervesa, we were granted seats in the VIP section of the bar. Said seats appeared to be parceled out in a strict hierarchical fashion, which allowed old men who'd been coming there for years to sit wherever they liked, order nothing, and smoke profusely for the duration of the match; the handful of outsiders who trickled in were largely turned away or sent to the other half of the bar with the regular-sized television. Only one table of nonregulars besides ourselves passed the mysterious test and were allowed to stay. Once you were in, though, you were treated as well as anyone, and the pub grub enough to make you weep when you thought back to what you'd uncomplainingly consumed in similar situations in America. How can we ever go back to frozen fries and indifferently assembled sandwiches when a neighborhood dive in Barceloneta delivers to us--as a series of well-orchestrated courses, even--little dishes of anchovies and olives, pa amb tomaquet (that's bread rubbed with olive oil and garlic and tomatoes), and pinxtos--succulent little skewers of still-pink beef accompanied by still more olive-and-garlic drizzled bread? The old men around us shouted and cursed the referee and Almeria and debated the lineup with passion; behind the bar a bell pealed to celebrate each Barca goal. Soon we were standing room only. Outside children boosted themselves up on the sills and pressed their faces against the windows, while a lanky youth followed the radio broadcast with his headphones while watching the action on the screen and smoking a languid joint. The place erupted with young Bojan's goal, and again when Eto'o scored, and cried out in anguish each time Almeria leveled the scoreline, as Milito was sent off, as things went from good to bad to worse for the Catalan side. It might have been a dream come true of a night if not for the final score, the impotent 2-2, Barca's inability yet again to capitalize on a Real Madrid loss pushing a victory for the season still further out of reach. The place finally fell silent after Almeria's second goal, though we all hung on till the bitter end, hoping for a miracle. Afterwards, though, the place cleared out in seconds, and we tumbled into the street, torn between infatuation with this city and, yet again, frustration with our team. We said, "We've still got Champion's League." But a lot of disappointed old men made their way home along our neighborhood streets last night.

Follow the Timbers at The Offside

2008-03-14T15:20:00.002-04:00

It's just all The Offside, all the time around here, and if you follow the Portland Timbers you probably know this already, but: via Dave Knows, the news that Bob is back and blogging about the Timbers at the Offside has us long-distance Timbers fans jumping for joy. If we can't be there at PGE Park this season to watch our boys win the season (right, lads?), following them via daily updates from Bob is the next best thing.

erratum

2008-03-10T09:53:00.002-04:00

We here at apm spent many months basically living under a rock, so we've been a little slow to figure out Bob doesn't appear to be running The Offside any longer. Still, he nurtured that baby into what it is today, and the crew in there now is keeping up the good work. So, to cover all our bases, we're offering our congratulations to all involved, past and present!

It rained... it poured.... Barca v Villarreal

2008-03-09T21:01:00.005-04:00

It was a terrible night for FC Barcelona despite hosting Villarreal at the Camp Nou. What happened? Ah, the proverbial question whenever Barca need the big league win of late. Oh well. We still have the Champions League, right? We'll have a full write-up within the next couple of days... 'cause apm actually attended the match live. It was a big deal for us--our first time ever attending a Barcelona match.

Anyway, here are two video clips. More later!

The Cant del Barca!

Ronaldinho free kick attempt on goal.

local boy does good

2008-03-09T12:59:00.002-04:00

We here at apm are delighted to see the indispensable football blog The Offside by P-Town's* very own Bob/Roberto named as one of the world's 50 most powerful blogs by the Guardian (even if they did call it "UK-based" and yes, we already emailed them to let them know they made a mistake, because we are nothing if not hometown boosters, as well as fans of Bob). Is it just that the Guardian can't bring itself to admit that Americans can actually write about football, and well?

(We kid because we love. We read the Guardian every single day.)

Check it out. The Offside is #35. Congratulations, Bob! World domination can't be far away!

*The Offside is, in fact, a part of the also invaluable Portland-based BootsNAll travel network. Don't leave home without checking them out!

Messi: Six Weeks

2008-03-05T15:49:00.006-05:00

It was enough to make any Barca supporter toss their cava. The blaugrana may have beaten Celtic 1-0 and moved on through to the quarter finals of the Champions League, but it came at a huge price. 38 minutes into the first half, kid fantastico Leo Messi inexplicably (at first) broke his sprint, hopped a few steps, then laid down on the pitch clutching his thigh... wracked in pain. And when the tears streamed down the young Argentine's face, us here at apm (2/3 of us nestled in a small tapas bar in Barcelona that strangely enough had reserved seats for patrons wanting to watch the match on the big screen; all others, i.e. us and a few other lowly fans who didn't know the secret handshake, were relegated to the other side of the joint to watch it on a much smaller TV) had to breathe deeply and pray to the football gods that this wasn't yet another injury setback for the brilliant player. Not now; not again.

But in the morning, with various images of the player splashed across the front pages of the football newspapers, it was impossible to deny the reality of the situation. Messi would in all probability be out for the rest of the season. Six weeks are what the doctors are saying. There's a slight chance that Messi will be back before the end of the league season (I wouldn't bet on it, though, especially considering the flak Riijkaard is receiving for rushing Messi to play last night, which he did because he received criticism for not playing the kid last weekend in the league match against Atletico Madrid), but the semi-final of the Copa del Rey against Valencia is out of the question as is the final if Barca indeed get there. Still... we can hope for the best.

The win was tainted, but Barcelona are through. But does the squad, who are playing well at the moment, have the momentum and focus to do what they accomplished in 2006? Do they have the resiliency to be champions once again?

On a much happier note... cheers to all of the Celtic fans that flooded the city (supposedly some 20,000!) over the last few days. Due to circumstances purely of my own making, I was unable to get downtown yesterday to snap more pictures of the Scottish supporters. I did see plenty of them still hanging out today sightseeing around the Barri Gotic and quietly nursing their hangovers with more drink at various watering holes. From all accounts, these were traveling supporters that any club should be proud to have.

You can read more about the invasion of the Celts here.

It's a world of laughter, a world of tears, it's a world of hopes, and a world of fears...

2008-03-04T06:14:00.012-05:00

Yesterday, on the eve of the big second leg match between Barcelona and Celtic, I spent the day wandering around the Ramblas hoping to find some obvious Celtic fans. I didn't have far to look. These aren't great pics, by any means. I had to snap fast! But I hope to get some more (better) ones today in the hours leading to the game... and while it all unfolds.

I think the most refreshing thing I noticed was the genuine camaraderie I witnessed between "rival" supporters. And though I couldn't snap a picture, last night I heard the drunken, jovial singing of Celtic fans echo through the streets of Barceloneta more than a few times. There was also a nice moment along the Ramblas when a group of teenage Celtic supporters and Italian ones were sharing their knowledge of the sport and Italian clubs. Very cool. Supporting a club is not exactly a pastime for the meek, but it sure doesn't have to be mayhem either.

Cheers! And may the best team proceed! More later.....

Riijkaard Maybe... Possibly... Thinking of Making Big Move!

2008-02-28T05:06:00.003-05:00

"Although Rijkaard remains acutely aware that there is currently no position at Chelsea to discuss"... we here at The Guardian refuse to allow that reality to stop us from pursuing the hypothetical situation that the 45-year-old Dutch manager may, possibly, be interested in a job that is so far not available to him. Word on the street from our reliable gobshites is that the ridiculously handsome and cool as a cucumber Dutch cat may also be favoring a move to AC Milan, Aston Villa, Valencia CF, New York Red Bulls, or the most likely spot commandeering the Portland Timbers to USL championship glory. More news as we dream it up!

A Night With Galway United

2008-02-18T16:28:00.011-05:00

Not one minute inside the grounds of Terryland Park, the home of Galway United FC, and we take a wrong turn. We were late getting to the game, thanks to the extra pint of Galway Hooker Derek ordered in the pub beforehand. And despite the precise directions to the park given to us by our host Jim at the Dun Aoibhinn Guesthouse, it was a bit more of a hike than we anticipated--not so much far away as it was, as Jim described it, "awkward," including navigating a stretch of dark road with no lights or shoulder to walk on. And if you've ever been to Ireland, you know that drivers here are not what you'd call cautious.

But late is late and we were tardy at the wrong time. The home team scored as we bought our tickets. We raced in and tried to get our bearings. The stands were nearly empty, so we headed toward the rowdiest group, only realizing our mistake when I spotted the banner "Limerick Ultras" on the wall behind them. Good thing we're starting our football pilgrimage in Ireland and not, say, Italy. This ground of ultras numbered about thirty, all lanky young man, and they terrorized the Galwegian side by standing throughout the match and smoking the occasional banned cigarette. They even managed to start the game's only chant--"You'll ever be a wanker," we think, directed at the opposing keeper during a penalty kick. At any rate, we managed to hightail it to the other side of the pitch before someone forced us to stand or smoke as well!

Once settled in the bare stands, with only a couple hundred home side fans scattered throughout, we were able to focus on the match. Galway United FC is not a bad team. They seemed to have better ball control than the Timbers (though who could control the ball with that crap turf of old?), and a couple of pretty fast players. The Timbers could definitely give them a run for their money though, and would provide a pretty fair match-up. Galway was also better about attacking the goal (particularly in the first half) than the Timbers of late. They did seem somewhat predictable and lacking in creativity; however, a late-night perusal of the fan board revealed that some, at least, found the match a bit dull due in part to some key missing players. Apparently, Galway United FC does have some prettier moves. The keeper--we think it was their first string guy Alvin Rouse--made a couple of great saves, while defender Wesley Charles packs a powerful header. (We hope we are identifying players correctly here; Galway supporters please correct us if we're wrong.)

The final score was 3-2 with the tie broken in the 89th minute by a Galway penalty kick. A few moments earlier, unrelated to the penalty, a melee erupted on the pitch when a tussle in the midfield led to a Galway United player grabbing a Limerick player in a headlock. Much shouting and shoving ensued. Something to keep the blood up in the bitter cold--and speaking of the bitter cold, that's why we don't have a picture. Fingers too frozen to retrieve camera in time. It had been a long time since that halftime cuppa.

The crowd consisted mostly of men, either with friends or kids, and some teenagers, including a few teenaged girls. We spotted exactly two grown women. Galway seems to have an enthusiastic fan base online, but at this friendly there were no chants, no instruments, no singing, no tifo. No TA atmosphere in other words. The lack of women did mean that for once the line for the women's toilet was shorter than for the men's. In fact, I walked into a deserted toilet--deserted, that is, save for the one man in there pissing with the door wide open, as my mother would say, in front of God and everybody. I beat a hasty retreat so as to avoid embarrassing us both and tried to look nonchalant when he emerged sheepishly.

All in all, an interesting night, and we'd certainly attend games regularly if we lived there. One can't help wondering what it would be like to go to a match on a warm summer night, as opposed to a cold February one. But the lack of a vocal and visible fan base for this friendly, at least, made us long to stand shoulder to shoulder with hundreds of crazed Timbers supporters.

this was written by both Derek and me, even though my name is the only one on the post

questionable attempt at being hans van der meer

2008-02-15T11:53:00.005-05:00

I snapped these in Galway a couple of days ago... before the weather turned soggy again.

An Afternoon in Galway....

2008-02-13T15:25:00.004-05:00

Walking along the beach in Galway yesterday, we noticed a pick-up game of football going on with a group of mostly African gents. A joyous sight indeed. Score was 2-0 when we left.

Captain Caveman

2008-02-11T12:20:00.000-05:00

There are numerous reasons why Barcelona captain Carles Puyol is my favorite player--the heavy metal locks and constitution to match, his relentless drive to try and play all positions at all times while still being a team player, and most importantly, his loyalty.

Read more about why he's so damn cool here.

Fever Pitch

2008-02-09T16:48:00.000-05:00

Okay, not "better than ever" but back all the same.

My first full day in Dublin wasn’t supposed to be like this. But here I am, sick in bed at the bed & breakfast, watching the Sunderland v Wigan match secluded in our little room. No big deal, though. I’m happily out in the world again, where watching or attending a match is routine… just like catching a tackleball, basketball or baseball game is back home in the States. While seated in a shitty, overpriced bar at the Newark International Airport just before closing, there was a table crowded with a bunch of American soccer fans heading overseas as well. Exclamations of “Fulham” and “fuckin’ Dempsey” boomed across the room. I quietly shared in their excitement and thought to myself that yes, we (as in American soccer supporters) are slowly and furtively winning the battle of hearts and mind in our country. Many of the reactionaries in the mainstream American sports press would love for you to think that the battle was lost or better yet, that there isn’t one even being waged. But when I look and hear dudes like that (and they were truly “dudes”), I know that the roots of soccer in the US are strengthening.

Speaking of how the culture of soccer is slowly gaining hold in America, last weekend I spent Saturday afternoon watching Barcelona v Osasuna in rural Georgia (smack down in Bulldog country) with my mother-in-law, a rabid college football fan (Auburn in particular). She loved it, and though I don’t think she’ll be relinquishing her allegiance to tackleball anytime soon (not that she has to or anything), I think the sport gained yet another convert.

Anyway, I digress. And frankly, now’s the time to simply indulge in the ordinariness of having football culture surrounding me.

We arrived in Dublin from Atlanta on Friday. Once I found out that Keane’s lads were playing on television, I made prospective plans to venture to some Irish local and catch the game with like-minded souls, Sunderland being Ireland’s unofficial fave Premiership club.

Alas, it was not to be. Sure, I would’ve loved to have been standing, sitting or slouched in some pub watching the gritty and intermittently entertaining on-field play instead of lying in bed clammy, phlegmy, and doozy from my cold and that full Irish breakfast I managed to wolf down. But there will be other matches down the line to suffer through via television or in the flesh.

Okay, enough of my ramblings. My thoughts will… hopefully… get more focused as my cold abates and we start catching some matches in person.

In Transit

2008-02-02T23:50:00.000-05:00

Adaptation is a profound process. Means you figure out how to thrive in the world.
-- John LaRoche (Chris Cooper) in the film Adaptation

Although things have been quiet online... 2/3 of apm have decided to uproot from their rainy Pacific Northwest enclave and head back out on the road... and search for football life beyond the walls of fortress America. We figure it won't be that difficult to find.

So for those of you out there who enjoy our weird, idiosyncratic little blog... we promise we'll be back soon and hopefully better than ever. We're going to dearly miss watching our hometown club the Portland Timbers live in the North End. But perhaps some talented, cavalier, opinionated and like-minded soul will come forward to help apm out and keep the spirit of the green & white vibrant on this site. We can hope.... If not, I guess we'll have to do the best we can and figure something else out. If there's one thing we know how to do, it's how to adapt.

In the meantime, cheers to anyone who's visited and liked our site. Stay tuned, as they
say!

PGE Park Update: Timbers Secret Weapon, I Mean, Crap Turf, Replaced

2008-01-12T17:45:00.000-05:00

Owner Merritt Paulson promised, and the happy day has come to pass. Replacement has begun on the godawful turf that has been threatening to maim players for years. There is, I suppose, a downside to this, which is that "home field advantage," for the Portland Timbers, has not only meant enduring 90 minutes of screaming and singing by hundreds of beer/soda/adrenaline-fueled fans, but that however bad the turf was on our players' legs, at least our boys were used to it. Visiting teams from Europe, MLS, and the like have regularly blamed draws or losses during friendlies on the appalling concrete-like playing surface. It will be delightful to see how the big visiting teams explain away their losses to a little backwater USL squad now....

For spectators, the crap turf was frustrating because players, ours as well as others, tended to slip around on it and controlling the ball was difficult. Sometimes it bounced wildly. New turf means better football, fewer injuries, and greater possibilities for exhibitions from major international teams played right here in the Rose City. And it also means Merritt Paulson really is willing to invest in this team, which is one of the best things to happen to soccer in P-Town in a long, long time.

playing the field in the Prem

2008-01-01T14:45:00.000-05:00

I haven't had nearly enough time to watch much soccer over the last few months, much less write about it, but after only half-joking in my last post about a growing affection for Man City over the past half-season, I realized it was time to go ahead and admit what I am when it comes to the Premiership: a promiscuous tart. I cannot settle on any one team. Over in La Liga, Barcelona demands, and has, my absolute loyalty and undying love, despite my roving eye. How can you not have a roving eye in La Liga, what with all the short passes and complicated plays and pretty flicks? From my two Davids (Villa and Silva) at Valencia to Robinho deep in the belly of the Real Madrid beast, any time my Barca boys are not on the pitch I'll happily gad about with the rest of the league.

When you are a soccer fan living in the United States, choosing a Prem side to support can seem almost de rigeur. It's certainly the easiest league to follow in the US since the games are televised on the readily-available Fox Soccer Channel. So I kept thinking, you know, that one day I'd look at a club and I'd just know. But it's not going to happen. Year after year, I'm affectionate about a number of teams and faithful to none. My affection waxes and wanes for a many reasons, often fairly inexplicable ones: a handful of players I love from various national teams play with this club, I like the keeper at another, the manager at a third, the fans at this one and the brave struggle against relegation from that one. None of these affections are particularly deep or meaningful. I like Sir Alex but not Man U, most of all because I can't bear Cristiano Ronaldo's smirk; I like Arsene Wenger and keep thinking his flash squad ought to win me over, but it never does. Some Senegalese players lured me to Bolton for a spell, while my attraction to Fulham was only partly explicated by its roster of American players. Sunderland, of course, have already become legends in the annals of Portland Timbers supporters, all on account of their fantastic fan base, traveling here in the hundreds to drink and sing with us. Plus, Roy Keane! Of course, I support the Hammers by a sort of osmosis, and there was a point at the start of the season when I thought Liverpool might settle me down--despite the presence of the loathsome Crouch--but then my eye went wandering again almost immediately and I couldn't remember what I'd seen in them in the first place.

Maybe this is part of why I enjoy watching the FA Cup so much. I always swear loyalty to one side or another, early on. It helps if one side is the underdog--twenty levels down? that's my boys!--and/or has a heartfelt fan base shouting them to victory. It's always so giddy and exhilarating, that first meeting with some club I've never heard of. For ninety minutes I remain entranced; there never has been and never will be another English club for me. Then the whistle blows, the match ends, and slowly I come to my senses. I swear that the next time I'm in town I'll look them up but of course I never will get around to it; within days I'll have forgotten their name. There's always another struggling and charismatic club to win my fancy.

this one is really about soccer...

2007-12-30T15:54:00.000-05:00

So, if you were paying attention or read apm on feeds or from various soccer sites, you probably saw the last thing I posted here which was actually intended for my personal blog and totally not soccer-related, because here at apm we are nothing if not 100% professional. I just wanted to come back with an embarrassing bang. I swear, I haven't even been hitting the holiday eggnog or anything, but having potentially subjected footie fans to my ramblings on everything but, I feel obligated to actually provide you with some content now.

One week, on, I am still reeling from Real Madrid's thrashing of Barcelona, and while the scoreline may have merely read 0-1, it was indeed a thrashing. Our boys looked awful and for the first time ever, I am ready to concede that it's probably time for Ronaldinho to move on. However, the first team debut of Serbo-Catalan new kid Bojan Krkic is easing a lot of that pain for me: he's hungry, intelligent, and gifted beyond his years. With the addition of both him and Mexican Giovani dos Santos--also wildly talented but more so than Krkic right now in need of focusing, better communication skills, and maybe a touch less arrogance--suddenly my wonder kid Leo Messi stops being the wonder kid and starts looking like the grand old man of Barca. Okay, I exaggerate, but their performance on December 23 left little doubt as to just how crucial Messi is to Barca's success. Meanwhile, I like Rijkaard's use of Eidur Gudjohnsen as a hardworking midfielder: he's a player I've never stopped rooting for despite his inability to really succeed for us as a striker (and I wish Rijkaard had used him last week).

Speaking of Rijkaard, what is with the absurd speculation that Jose Mourinho is going to replace him? Enough with this nonsense.

In other news: another player, Motherwell captain Phil O'Donnell, tragically collapses and dies on the pitch. There aren't really words for this one: we all imagine how we'd feel if the same happened to one of our beloved players. I don't understand why this happens--what players' physicals screen for, if there's any way to prevent this.

And in news of the bizarre, if Man City doesn't stop their meteoric rise (they're 5th place as of this writing and a mere point behind Liverpool), I am going to end up a fan of both the team and Sven-Goran Eriksson. And that will just be silly. I can't help pointing out that gosh, it turns out Sven-Goran really was a decent coach and that, well, maybe the England team just sucked. It would have been interesting to see whether Mourinho could have turned them around--and if he couldn't have, I don't think anyone could. Fabio Capello? I haven't made up my mind.

FIFA Club World Cup Final and Third Place Match Tonight!

2007-12-15T21:11:00.000-05:00

Just a quick note: FSC here in the States will be broadcasting the Club World Cup third place match between the Urawa Reds from Japan and Etoile du Sahel from Tunisia live at 10:30 pm. It should be a great match. Urawa played well against a slightly more fluid AC Milan earlier in the week and unfortunately lost. But the Japanese side had nothing to be ashamed about. Milan, who are more experienced at pulling off the big wins were nonetheless tested by Urawa's technical and attractive style. Don't let the 1-0 result fool you--the match was exciting throughout.

Later in the evening... or morning... AC Milan will face Boca Juniors in the final. The last time these two clubs met in the tournament (in 2003), they drew 1-1 and then went into penalty kicks in which Boca triumphed. Boca's semi-final win over Etoile last week left plenty to be worried about, and they are desperately missing the genius of Riquelme (who is in Japan but unable to play for his beloved club due to legalities) in the midfield. I'm figuring Milan to avenge their previous defeat, but you just never know. More later....