Anatomy of a Game at The Pub

THE BUILD-UP:
Sleeping is a struggle the night before. Lying in bed in eager anticipation of the camaraderie and joy (or heartbreak) one is about to experience, potential line-ups, match-ups, outcomes and table permutations run through the mind. It's going to be a great way--or a terrible way---to start off the day.

WAKE UP:
I don't wake up before the alarm; not for school, not for graduation, not for transatlantic flights, not for job interviews (note to potential employers: this is an exaggeration). Sometimes, I don't even wake up  when the alarm goes off. But come game day I'm up minutes before the game and out the door, teeth unbrushed and face unwashed; decorum counts for nothing when you're headed to the pub at 6 a.m.


ARRIVAL:

The smell of stale beer and last night's sin waft out of the pub as the commentator's voice echoes through the empty streets. Armed with my arsenal of facts from the week's soccer news, I'm ready for some pub chat. Ideally I've made it before kick off and the line-ups and formations have yet to be announced, otherwise I hope I haven't missed an early goal.

OPENING MINUTE NERVES:
The first few minutes of a game are telling; it's a cagey and nervous time. Despite your absolute belief in your team, anything can happen at any given moment, which is why I never order a drink right away. Ordering an alcoholic beverage first thing in the morning suggests an alcohol abuse problem, but more importantly the opening minutes of a match demand my uninebriated attention.

"FILL ME UP":
Having waited a full ten minutes to order a drink, it's time to ask for the best: Magners Cider.

Magners is an ideal game day drink in many respects: it's so fruity it's practically a breakfast drink (this completely justifies drinking at dawn), its refreshing effervescence doesn't bog you down like beer and 20 ounces will last you a long time when poured over a big glass of ice.

HALF-TIME ANTICS & SECOND HALF SUBSTITUTIONS:
Half-time. 20 minutes between halves provide for ample time to refill drinks, smoke 'em if you've got 'em, conduct a gentlemanly debate as to how the team has been playing ("like shite" and "f****in brilliant," are popular arguments) and share an anecdote or two about the game we all love.

I hope to one day have anecdotes like those so artfully recounted by my fellow pub patrons. Unfortunately, growing up in the United States the most exciting soccer tale I can aspire to share is: "I was at the Home Depot Center when Landon Donovan crossed for Juan Pablo Angel to score the winner in the 2011 Western Conference Finals." That just doesn't have the same ring to it as some of the ridiculous stories the guys at the pub tell about being at Old Trafford or Wembley.

As the second half gets underway the managers have noted our recommendations via telepathy and duly make the proper substitutions.

CATHARSIS (OR NAUSEA):

It would seem that everyone in the pub has just worked together to score the goal, but watching it happen is just as rewarding--just as watching a goal being scored on your team is equally dejecting.

THE LONGEST (OR THE SHORTEST) FOUR MINUTES EVER:

Depending on whether or not your team is winning the stoppage time at the end of a match can feel like an eternity or a millisecond respectively.

As the final whistle sounds, the winning fans leave jubilant and the losing fans with a sour taste in their mouths (that could be the aformentioned lack of oral hygiene); attentions are already turning to next week's game. 

Big Business FC, Pay to Play

In 2004, I bet a friend $100 that the U.S. men's national team would never win the World Cup in our lifetimes. If my friend won he would get the cash, and if I won...well, I'd be dead.

Until recently, the conventional wisdom suggested that I had made a safe bet, but the arguments against soccer's potential popularity in the U.S. are beginning to sound less persuasive. In their book Soccernomics, sports economist Stefan Szymanski and soccer writer Simon Kuper argue that American soccer dominance is inevitable given our population and per-capita income. In light of this data, I am starting to doubt that I will be pushing up daisies before our boys bring home the gold statue. 

We have often been athletic trend-setters thanks to our vast resources and large talent pool, but is world soccer dominance really in our future? The U.S. is at the forefront of sports science and sports medicine research--European clubs send their players to our trainers and doctors. In true American fashion, foreign coaching talent is being recruited to drive growth and we now have more youngsters playing Soccer than any other sport in the United States; in fact, we have one of the highest levels of youth soccer participation in the world.

In the professional sphere, MLS is growing in popularity and after years of austerity looks stable enough to surpass the 16-year benchmark set by its predecessor the NASL. The "designated player" rule, the building of soccer-specific stadiums and expansion teams have all signaled that MLS is planning for aggressive growth. Yet while soccer has begun to stake its claim within the American sports culture, our men's national team still does not stack up. There is something standing in the way of talent development in the U.S. and that something is Big Business FC. 

Big Business FC is your local soccer club; it has a name that pays homage to the great clubs of the world, something like "Real Rancho Cucamonga." The club has a board of directors, hundreds of eager parents willing to pay top-dollar for their kids to play forward--even if they're overweight and can't run--and it's ruining youth development in the United States. Often, it is not so much the club that is at odds with player development as the parents who pay for their kids to play for the club. 

Soccer clubs started with a decent enough premise: an environment in which gifted youth could develop their talent throughout the year. Somewhere along the way the evil seeds of money, greed and politics supplanted this premise. At youth clubs playing time is not necessarily awarded on the merit of a child's ability (say positional awareness, technique or vision) but on how much their parents have shelled out for them to be there. Club soccer today is not as much a meritocracy as it is an aristocracy. Sadly, this corrosive system has contributed to the stagnation of our national team by feeding our youth development program for years. 

Practicing is not the main goal for many clubs, winning is, thus player development goes largely ignored. A club team can play more games in a weekend tournament than it has practice sessions in a whole week. There are clubs that hire respected coaches who understand the importance of training over winning at the youth level, but parents want to see immediate results for their money. How then, can the focus of a club be development when coaches and trainers have to operate in such a politically-charged environment? 

The authors of Soccernomics state that in addition to population and per-capita income there is a third factor that determines a country's soccer potential: soccer knowledge. Soccer knowledge is gained by studying European training methods and a pass-centric playing style. The U.S. has already begun to adopt many of these methods and is trying to implement European tactics, but it has largely ignored the building-block of the European game: academies.

U.S. soccer has been making great strides over the last decade. USSF president Sunil Gulati and his underlings realize that the youth system has to change; entrusting local clubs to feed our Olympic Development Program is not enough. The revamped U.S. Development Academy, in following the European model, depends on MLS clubs to develop talent through their academies, thereby moving youth soccer development in the right direction. 

I used to think that MLS was an afterthought, that if the U.S. was ever going to produce world-class players they would have to go abroad at an early age. However, if we are to produce a team of world-beaters that can compete with Brazil, Spain, Ghana et al., we cannot entrust the development of our players to other countries, it simply isn't feasible. We need stronger MLS academies to begin nurturing players in a training-intensive setting that is paid for by the team. It would be great to see an extensive academy system spread across MLS because I want to lose that bet I made seven years ago.

Swiss Surprise: A Strange Night in Zurich

...well, perhaps not so much strange as it was telling. All of the awards were handed out as most pundits had predicted; from coach of the year, which went to the undeniably deserving Jose Mourinho, to women's player of the year (Brazil's Marta). The FIFA World XI was, as anticipated, a reflection of Spain and Inter Milan's successes over the last year:

Iker Casillas (Spain/R. Madrid), Maicon (Brazil/Inter), Lucio (Brazil/Inter), Gerard Pique (Spain/Barca), Carles Puyol (Spain/Barca), Andrés Iniesta (Spain/Barca), Xavi (Spain/Barca), Wesley Sneijder (Netherlands/Inter), Cristiano Ronaldo (Portugal/R. Madrid), David Villa (Spain/Barca), Lionel Messi (Argentina/Barca).

There was only one surprise and it took until the end of the gala to be unveiled. The most eagerly anticipated award, the men's Ballon d'Or, which so many were so sure would go to either Xavi or Iniesta, went instead to the night's dark horse: Lionel Messi.

Any other year and the mention of Messi as a dark horse would have been met with laughter and ridicule. However, as the diminuitive Argentinean lumbered slowly up the steps and slouched onto the podium to humbly accept the award, even he could not hide his astonishment

"The truth is that I didn't expect to win it [the Ballon d'Or] today," said Messi.

Both Messi's demeanor and his impromptu speech hinted that he was genuinely shocked to have won. As he wrapped up, Europe's top scorer in 2010 (60 goals in all competitions) said that he would like to share the award with his fellow Barcelonistas and Argentineans and left the podium with a look of bewilderment on his face.  

Throughout La Pulga's acceptance speech his Barcelona teammates put on their best smiles, but were visibly crest-fallen as they sat in the auditorium. It seemed particularly difficult for Xavi to hide his disappointment as Messi was announced the winner, and rightfully so.

If Iniesta appeared to be the more magnanimous in defeat of the two runners-up it was because he was probably already thinking that he would come in second to Xavi. Instead, Iniesta came in as runner-up to Messi while Xavi was left scratching his head in third place for a second consecutive year.

What took place was a split vote. With the voters torn between which of the two Spaniards should take home the prize, Messi was able to edge it by roughly six percent of the vote.

The numbers are important, but the more critical element is that Messi is widely considered to be the best player of his generation. This reputation, in addition to the goals he scored in 2010 (many of which were scored as a result of Xavi's vision), are what won Messi the most coveted individual award in soccer.

The papers in Spain, particularly AS and Marca, were seeing red this morning (consternation sells). Conspiracy theories ran abound and continue to do so. Guatemala's captain is crying foul that his vote for Xavi was miscounted for Xabi Alonso. In any event, one vote does not a difference make; Sepp Blatter cannot be blamed for this one--the things he can be blamed for are topics for another post.

The real elephant in the auditorium at this year's gala was that goals and image win individual accolades not goalkeeping, defending or play making. Soccer's greatest prize has seldom been bestowed upon players plying their trades in less glamorous positions--when it has, voters have had no other option. Fabio Cannavaro won in 2006 because he was instrumental in Italy's unlikely run to the final.

This also marked the first time that FIFA's top prize has gone to someone other than a world cup winner during a world cup year, which is a testament to the sheer volume of goals that Messi scored in 2010.

The Ballon d'Or was Spain's to lose and everybody knew it. Speaking after the gala, Iker Casillas expressed the fallen hopes of a nation and of many true connoisseurs of the game.

"It's a great disappointment to me as a fan of the game," said the Real Madrid and Spain shot-stopper, who as Spain's captain was allowed a vote.

Casillas clearly had  not voted for Leo Messi "...I would have liked it if a Spaniard had won," said Casillas.

The Real Madrid captain went on the say that Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo are the two best players in the world on current form, but that Xavi and Iniesta were a cut above the rest in 2010.

Even 2008 winner Cristiano Ronaldo voiced his displeasure at the disproportionate attention paid to goal-scorers. The Real Madrid hit man said that he would be happy if one day a goalkeeper like Real Madrid teammate Casillas won the award.

No one disputes Lionel Messi's greatness. Watching a highlight reel of Lionel's mesmerizing runs is awe-inspiring. The Barcelona ace's ability to dribble at pace, the ball glued to his feet as he beats opponent's tackles by the most precise of margins, is simply amazing. In fact, it is Messi's very greatness over the last few years that won him the Ballon d'Or in a year in which it should have gone to someone else.

Xavi Is Golden

In late October, FIFA and France Football Magazine released their predictably Spaniard- and German-laden list of 23 finalists:

Xabi Alonso (ESP), Daniel Alves (BRA), Iker Casillas (ESP), Cristiano Ronaldo (POR), Didier Drogba (CIV), Samuel Eto’o (CMR), Cesc Fabregas (ESP), Diego Forlán (URU), Asamoah Gyan (GHA), Andrés Iniesta (ESP), Julio Cesar (BRA), Miroslav Klose (GER), Philipp Lahm (GER), Maicon (BRA), Lionel Messi (ARG), Thomas Mueller (GER), Mesut Oezil (GER), Carles Puyol (ESP), Arjen Robben (NED), Bastian Schweinsteiger (GER), Wesley Sneijder (NED), David Villa (ESP), and Xavi Hernandez (ESP).


And now three remain: Xavi Hernandez, Andrés Iniesta and Lionel Messi.

Those three will contest this year's FIFA and France Football Magazine Ballon d'Or in Zurich on January 10th.

Wesley Sneijder must feel a bit aggrieved not to have made the short list, which begs the question: In lieu of which of the finalists should Sneijder have made the list?

It would have to have been La Pulga. The Argentinean flea is undoubtedly prolific but it can't be denied that Sneijder had a more successful year than Messi, both domestically and internationally. That being said, nobody is going to argue with Messi's inclusion based purely on the merit of his technique and goals ratio. Add to that Messi's glittering form in the latter half of 2010, and the small matter of his being the reigning world player of the year, and the argument for poor Wesley fizzles.

This will be the first year that the Ballon d'Or and the FIFA awards have been merged (whether it's an austerity measure or FIFA wielding its power unethically once again is a topic for another debate), and with the world's football journalists, national team coaches and captains all voting we will have just one undisputed winner. That winner should be Xavi Hernandez. If Xavi does not win the award this year then he is destined never to win it given that he will turn 31 shortly after the FIFA gala.

Xavi has been on the 23-man shortlist for three years running. In 2008, despite his masterminding Spain's European Championship and being named tournament MVP, Cristiano Ronaldo carrying Manchester United to the EPL and Champions League trophies proved to be greater accomplishments in the eyes of the voters. In 2009 everyone decided Messi was the major reason Barcelona won the Treble and Xavi finished third in the voting (the closest he has ever gotten). This year those snubs, and the fact he has been the common-denominator in Barcelona's successes over the last decade, should work in his favor.

The man is a five-time Spanish league champion, two-time Champions League winner and reigning European and world champion. Hernandez finished the World Cup with an 89% completion rate of an incredibly high volume of passes that kept Spain's offense ticking. And did I mention that the guy can play defense? Despite this impressive resume, which includes a number of other team and individual honors, Xavi has yet to be named world player of the year.

The dilemma that most voters will face this year is that Andrés Iniesta has also been instrumental in Barcelona and Spain's recent successes.  Iniesta, like Xavi, exhibits intelligence, vision and poise to match his technique and raw ability that very few players in the history of the game can be said to possess or have possessed. The two players have an understanding on the pitch that borders on telepathy, and their sickening degree of humility on and off the field only serves to endear them to fans of the game even more.

People are going blue in the face arguing the tangibles and intangibles in support of who should win the Ballon d'Or. Sadly, the only certainty is that only one person can lift the award, and that someone should be Spanish. Xavi Hernandez holds the trump card as the heart and soul of two of the most dynamic teams world soccer has ever seen. But no matter who is given the golden ball in Zurich, the true winner has already been shown to be Barcelona's youth academy.

"Who is this 'we' Yank?"

At the risk of exposing my bias so early on in the game I'm going to go ahead and just say it (follow the insults as they may): I'm a Manchester United supporter. I'm talking four A.M. game days at the local Manc-owned pub, scouring the dodgiest neighborhoods in developing countries looking for places to watch the match, missing countless classes to catch noon-time Champions League fixtures and screaming like a raving lunatic and running around in circles after John Terry infamously placed his penalty kick wide right in the 2008 Champions League Final. A win on the day and you can't bring me back to earth; a loss and you'll have to hide the rope.

My girlfriend once said: "He won't get up at nine to go to class, but he'll wake up before the alarm at five in the morning to watch the f****** game!" A roommate in college pulled me aside earnestly a day or two after he heard my post-Champions League exaltation and said, "I'm really happy for you dude. I knew you liked soccer, but I didn't realize you liked it that much." If money was not an object I would be a season ticket holder at Old Trafford (Santa, are you reading?).

I could type until my fingers fall off trying to prove my devotion to a club that I have followed closely for six years, but it would be in vain. Why? Because I would assuredly be the laughing stock of not only greater Manchester but the U.K. in its entirety. I suppose that there is something about a guy from California taking in the game on a nice 70-degree day that just doesn't scream die-hard Red Devils supporter.

Being a soccer fan in Europe--in England above all other countries--is a tribal affair. The British concept of supporting your team transcends any that we Americans have of being a fan. Your team affiliation is part of your identity and is defined not only by where you live but your family history and socio-economic status. So where do we as American fans of the game fall into this? We don't and that is my burden.

In March of 2009, I was in China, on the first-leg of a six-month trip through Asia. United were chasing the Treble that year (as they tend to do), and I ended up in a smoky Beijing bar sitting next to a couple of boys from Northern England, one of whom happened to be a Manchester United fan. I asked the guy if we had a shot of winning all three trophies and he looked at me with a smirk as he asked, "We?"  

Getting quietly scoffed at by Manc expats who discount my opinions at the pub is par for the course and I'll suffer that quietly, but I will not stand for being told by bitter British fans of less successful clubs that Manchester United doesn't have any fans in Manchester, that they all live abroad. I have it on good authority that those people are lying--a nice fellow with a Manchester United crest tattoo on his calf told me so--and I further reject the implication that I'm a bandwagon fan; success breeds hate and green is an ugly color on you gentlemen.

Come this Sunday I'll be at The Press Room sans United crest tattoo--maybe one day, but I'm not ready for it yet--watching United put Chelsea to the sword, while my British counterparts sit in their over-priced seats at Stamford Bridge freezing their bollocks off. I'm in limbo, considered odd by Americans for liking soccer so much but unable to sit at the cool table with the chanting masses from Manchester. I'm alright with that I suppose. Maybe one day they'll let me slide my tray over and talk about who is going to replace Fergie when he finally retires.